 |
|||
|
|
By C. A. Taylor
5 The Collar
A few days later, William was in the large, sunny kitchen of his home, opening his mail. Amongst the bills and junk mail, he found a black and white invitation with no return address. Opening it, it read, ‘Meet me Friday at the head of Cypress Trail in Rock Creek Park. 9pm. Wear old clothes.’ There was no signature.
Throughout the rest of the week, William debated with himself on whether to keep the appointment Friday night. Still smarting from the beating, he had spent countless hours thinking about the mysterious police officer, trying to understand his fascination with her. A part of him really didn’t like the way she controlled him and ordered him around, but the sex was absolutely fantastic. And another part of him reluctantly concluded he liked it just fine. She turned him on like no other woman he had ever known, and he had never had such intense orgasms in his life.
When Friday night arrived, William determined to keep the appointment, but he decided he would set some new ground rules—rules that involved him being on top for a change. Armed or not, he was determined to have it out with her.
Arriving half an hour early, William parked and locked his car and scouted around for a vantage point from which to await the arrival of the woman whose name he still did not know. Dressed in a dark suit and tie, he found a location to the right of the path. Leaning against a tree trunk screened by several tall bushes, he was so intent on watching the path he failed to notice her until she turned on her flashlight…right behind him.
Whirling around, he was immediately blinded by the light she had aimed at his face. Slowly raising his hands he quipped, “Is there a problem, officer?”
Dressed in a thin white silk blouse and straight black skirt tonight, the policewoman was again wearing high-heeled black leather boots that tightly encased her curving calves and thighs. She seemed to have been expecting him. “Face down, on the ground, and spread ‘em,” she directed.
“Now look here—,” William began.
“Are you that eager for another headache?” she asked, cutting him off and raising the Maglite menacingly.
“No,” William responded. “I just want to talk about this.”
“Get down on the ground, spread-eagled, right now, or I walk away and you will never see me again,” the officer said evenly.
The Mistress knew William was potentially dangerous to her at this moment, if his control slipped and he responded violently. Despite what she had told William, she had no doubt he could overpower her if he chose.
Slowly, William complied, and then asked, “Can we at least discuss this once I’m cuffed?”
The Mistress released the breath she had been holding and replied, “Yes, we will talk about the ground rules later tonight. Right now, put these on.” She dropped a pair of handcuffs on the ground near his face. Startled, William slowly reached up, took the cuffs in his hand, and awkwardly fitted the bracelets to his wrists behind his back.
“Roll over,” she ordered. William obeyed, and then stood at her command. Taking his elbow and aiming the flashlight at the dirt path, she guided him up the trail through the dark woods.
“No talking until we reach our destination,” the Mistress ordered. The path climbed steeply, twisting and wending its way through the dense trees. After walking briskly for more than thirty minutes, the woods petered out into a rough clearing. The dark outlines of a building slowly took shape, and the flashlight finally revealed it to be a modern log cabin. Although no light was visible from outside, once the door was unlocked and opened, a wedge of bright light spilled out into the night, welcoming them inside.
As she busied herself with closing and locking the door, William looked around the spacious main room. Comfortably if sparsely furnished, the room had high ceilings and walls of smooth wood timbers. A large wood-framed bed dominated one corner of the room, a long oak table another. A small galley kitchen, a comfortable seating area, and a small, but well-equipped exercise area rounded out the living space. The far wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling glass panels, no doubt showing off a magnificent view.
Turning back from the door, the Mistress placed the flashlight on the farmhouse table and walked over to William, looking him up and down, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She was amused, in spite of the fact that tonight she would risk the entire venture involving William.
“And here I thought all lawyers could read,” she commented.
Confused, William turned back to her. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“My instructions to you were to wear old clothes, not a Versace suit.”
“Oh, well, I worked late and didn’t have time to change. Now, we need to talk,” William began, his own agenda firmly in mind.
“We will talk, William—when you are properly prepared.” So saying, she placed a hand against his chest and pushed. William staggered back a step, where the wooden bed frame collided with his calf and he fell heavily backwards onto the rustic, quilt-covered bed. As he tried to raise himself up on his braced elbows, she straddled his thighs and pulled a long, gleaming knife from her boot top. Viewing it up close for the first time, William could see that the seven inches of oiled, wickedly curved blade was honed to a razor edge.
William froze.
“Good, William. Very good,” the Mistress said, the edge in her voice indicating this was no time for games.
Grasping the knot of his tie in one hand, she smoothly sliced through the folded fabric. Dropping the severed tie on the floor, she held the knife up at eye level, admiring the beauty of the deadly blade.
“Now would be a very good time for you to be still and quiet, William,” she murmured softly as she unbuttoned his suit coat. Silently agreeing with her, William complied. He was also quickly reevaluating the advisability of taking a stand with her. At times, this woman was absolutely terrifying.
Gripping his shirt collar, the Mistress flicked her wrist and the top button of his shirt flew across the room. Another flick and another button was severed from the cloth. She continued to methodically un-button his shirt. Breathing shallowly, William clenched his abdominal muscles as the smooth blade of the knife brushed his skin as she freed the last button from its moorings.
“In the future, William, pay more attention to my instructions,” the Mistress commented as she grasped his shirt sleeve and jacket sleeve and smoothly sliced the fabric of both garments from wrist to shoulder. William’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Repeating the process with the other sleeve, she removed the tattered remnants of his clothing and carelessly dropped them on the floor.
Apprehensively remembering the last time they were together, William moistened his lips and asked, “Are you going to beat me for not following your instructions?”
Smiling down at him, she answered, “No, William. I think having a two thousand dollar suit shredded before your eyes is punishment enough in this case.”
Now moving to stand in front of him, she unhooked his waistband and unzipped his fly. Still holding the knife, she commanded, “Spread your legs for me, William.”
Alarmed, William shook his head and tried to pull back from her.
Cupping his face in her free hand, the Mistress gently responded, “William, it is not wise to make me repeat myself. Now do as you are told.”
William averted his eyes from her gaze, but said, “No.”
Sighing, the Mistress asked, “No, what, William?”
“No, I won’t spread my legs.”
Narrowing her eyes, her voice took on an edge as she repeated, “No, what, William?”
Catching on, he mumbled, “No, Mistress.”
Gently gliding the edge of her knife along his throat, she asked, “Do you remember our previous encounters, William?”
Mutely, he nodded.
“Think, William. How many times during our sessions did I have you helpless? I could have hurt you many times over. Have I done you any permanent damage? Have I caused you any true bodily harm?”
As William considered her questions, he slowly relaxed his tensed muscles and shook his head.
“Now, William, spread your legs.”
Slowly and warily, he did as she commanded. She slipped her hand inside his fly and softly cupped him. She gently kneaded his sensitive testicles until he let out a soft sigh, and relaxed his thighs completely. Now that she has ready access, the Mistress quickly slit the inseams of his trousers and severed the zipper at its base, then peeled the ruined pants from his body. Two fast slices across his outer thighs and his boxer shorts lay in ruins as well.
Looking down at him, she surveyed her work, and a smile spread slowly across her face. “You are beautiful, William,” she murmured.
Leaning back on his braced elbows with legs parted and not a stitch on, William’s body was lean and lithe, with good muscle definition, but not overbuilt. Seeing where her attention was focused, William’s cheeks heated at her studied regard, and he felt even more vulnerable than usual.
“Well, then, tongue-tied and uncertain must look damn good on me. I think it’s becoming my natural state around you,” he replied boldly.
Hiding a smile and returning her knife to her boot top, the Mistress walked over to the chair at the head of the oak dining table. Turning it around and sitting down, she looked over at William. “Come here,” she ordered, pointing to the floor immediately in front of her.
Still bemused from his recent ordeal, William rose awkwardly, and obediently walked over to stand in front of her. Snapping her fingers and pointing, the Mistress sharply told William to get down on his knees. “You will never stand in my presence without permission. Now kneel.”
Knowing she could compel his compliance, William avoided the argument and obeyed. “Now may we talk?” he asked, his voice rich with sarcasm.
“In a minute,” she replied absently. “Spread your knees a little wider. Straighten your back and tighten your stomach. Lower your head and keep your gaze on the floor.”
Walking around him, the Mistress made a few more minute adjustments in his position, then told him, “From now on, this is the position you will assume any time I tell you to ‘kneel’.
“And now, William, it is time we talked. For purposes of this discussion, I give you leave to omit the proper replies of ‘Yes, Mistress,’ and ‘No, Mistress.’ However, keep a respectful tongue in your head or I will introduce you to one of my less pleasant gags.
“Look at me,” she directed. Looking him over, she asked, “What have you thought of our encounters, William? This is the fifth time we’ve been together, and for all but the first time you knew what to expect and could have put up a fight. Why didn’t you?”
Shifting uncomfortably, William didn’t know what to answer. Finally deciding on the truth, he replied, “I don’t understand it myself. I thought about it. After our encounters, I’d kick myself for not taking control, for allowing you to master me without a fight. But at the time, it just seemed I didn’t have a choice. That I had to do what I was told. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how it is.”
Nodding her head, she then asked, “Have you enjoyed our sessions?”
“Parts of them,” William responded with a wry grin. “I don’t know why, but with you I’ve had the best sex of my life. You turn me on every minute I’m with you.”
“That’s good, William. That was the point of our sessions,” she smiled.
“I’m not so sure what I feel about other parts, though,” William admitted. “Intellectually, I hate being bound and following orders, but somehow it all seems to be tied up with that great sex I mentioned. Even the beating you gave me turned me on in a strange way. At any rate, the sex afterwards was fantastic. And I can’t seem to get our encounters out of my mind.”
“Thank you, William,” she said gently, “for your honesty.”
“Very well,” a more formal note entered her voice. “In that case, I have an offer for you. You remember asking me what game we were playing? What our sessions have really been about is exploring the sexual arena sometimes called BDSM. In particular, Dominance and submission. This arena is largely about the balance of power between a Master or Mistress and their slave.
“I would like to offer you a chance to continue our encounters, but with a more formal arrangement, and more specific goals. In short, I’d like to offer a trade: you get the great sexual experiences you mentioned, and a chance to explore a darker side of your sexuality in a safe environment. In return, you give me your services as a sex slave. What that means is you offer me your submission and obedience during our sessions. I want your will and your body completely subservient to me when we are together. Do you understand?”
Stunned by her terminology, William answered slowly, “I'm not sure I do.”
“In some ways, our association will continue as it has. I may appear unannounced as I have been doing, and provide various experiences similar to those you have already encountered. I may also schedule time with you in advance, giving you specific directions on what to do, where to go, et cetera, like tonight.
“There will be training sessions where you will learn what I expect from you. We just had one where I taught you how to ‘kneel’. I will also have homework assignments for you that are designed to enhance your ability to serve me.
“This type of relationship relies more heavily on trust than anything you have experienced before. In essence, you agree to give up all control of a situation to me. To do that you must trust me not to exceed your limits or boundaries; because once you are collared you will not be allowed to refuse me. Part of the thrill you have experienced stems from giving up control and pushing that trust to new limits. Are you interested?”
“I don’t know,” William said slowly. “Do you need an answer right now?”
“Yes, William, I do. Let me explain it this way. You can think of me as a recruiter. I have a position to fill, and you look like a promising Candidate. You can think of our previous encounters as job interviews, and now I am offering the position to you. I have spent considerable time and energy recruiting you because I think you are a good fit, but if you are not interested, I need to move on to other likely candidates.”
“If I choose to accept your offer, what, exactly, is the extent of my commitment?”
“The commitment is for one session at a time,” the Mistress explained, picking up from the table a thin collar made of rolled tan leather. In the center was a brass setting with a ring about an inch in diameter. At the back, the circlet appeared to close with a flat combination lock much like those used on old-fashioned bicycle chains, only smaller.
“Each time we meet, we will go through a ritual where I offer you this collar. You must accept the collar of your own free will. Doing so symbolizes your willingness to submit to me for the duration of our session. Only you can place the collar around your neck and lock it in place. Conversely, only I can end our session by unlocking and removing the collar.”
“And how long would these sessions last?”
“That will vary, William. Part of the trust you place in me includes trusting me not to materially interfere with the other aspects of your life. Think back on how carefully I selected the times for our earlier sessions. You didn’t see me when your workload became heavier than usual, or when you had an evening event scheduled. I will continue to respect most of your time commitments, but ordinarily you will not know how long I plan a session to be.”
“And I can call off our agreement at any time?”
“Not during a session, no. And I can’t guarantee you can prevent me from picking you up and taking you to a location of my choosing, but once there I will offer you the collar. If you refuse it, you will immediately be taken back to the original location, and allowed to go on your way.”
The lawyer in William counseled him to refuse. There were too many unknowns in this picture, and trust was not his long suit. Previous experience, plus countless clients had taught him there was no percentage in it. And a relationship that began with his kidnapping didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
“Why did you kidnap me? That first time,” William asked.
“I didn’t kidnap you, William. You accepted my invitation. You called me.”
William shook his head in confusion.
“I told you I knew what you needed. That statement is still true, and I am offering you what you need.”
The Mistress held her breath. She had honestly laid out the agreement to the best of her ability, and now waited for William to decide. He didn’t know what a life changing decision he was about to make, and there was no way she could explain it to him. She could only try to ensure he didn’t come to regret it.
The light finally dawned on William. It was the Mistress who had sent the anonymous note to him all those weeks ago. Annoyed, he considered saying no, but the passionate side of his nature had been roused by these encounters, and was not interested in being put back on a leash. He was fascinated by her, and by his responses to her. Thinking back over the sessions they had already had, William definitely felt the pleasure outweighed the pain. ‘And I can stop the arrangement any time I want, right?’ he said to himself.
“I accept,” William agreed.
“Good, William. I’m glad,” the Mistress smiled.
“I do have one condition, though,” William continued.
“What’s that?”
“I want to know your name.”
“It’s Grace,” she said, rising and going to him. She leaned down and removed the handcuffs.
Picking up the collar on the table, Grace walked back over to William, where he still knelt on the wooden floor. “William, I offer you this collar as a symbol of my pledge. While you wear it, I demand your obedience and submission. In return, I will treat you as my valued possession to guard, care for, and use as I see fit.”
Brows knitted, William slowly took the collar from her. “What do I say?” he asked.
“Your response is ‘I accept your collar as a symbol of my bond. While I wear it, I offer you the obedience of my will and the submission of my body. I acknowledge your right to use me as you see fit.’”
Blushing, William repeated the ritual phrases, and closed the collar around his neck. At the quiet snick of the lock, his gut tightened and something deep inside him stirred. He knew the game was over, and something much more serious had begun. He looked up at his Mistress, the trepidation clear in his eyes. “What now?” he asked.
“For starters, William, you will cast your eyes down unless ordered to look at me, and you will address me properly,” Grace snapped.
Bowing his head, William quickly replied, “Yes, Mistress.”
Placing her hand under his chin, she gently forced his head up. “Look at me, William.”
William looked up, and the vulnerability in his expression was exquisite. She marveled at the strength of him, at his acceptance of this strange arrangement.
“It’s all right, William. I am not angry,” she said. “Now, go over to the bed, remove the pillows, place them in the blanket chest at the foot of the bed, and then position yourself on your back in the center of the bed.”
William rose to comply, only to be stopped by his Mistress’ voice.
“William, a collared slave does not stand without permission in the presence of a Master or Mistress,” Grace lectured. “On your knees. Now, try again.”
Humiliation flooded William’s cheeks at her words. ‘A collared slave.’ Is that what he was? His cock hardened painfully at the thought, causing his blush to deepen. On his hands and knees, he crawled across the floor to the bed. Climbing onto it, he quickly removed the pillows as directed, and then obediently lay down on his back.
Standing still, Mistress Grace allowed William to lie there in silence for a few minutes, studying him. She could see his confusion grow, as his muscles tensed and a look of consternation appeared on his face. Relenting at last, she smiled to herself and walked over to the foot of the bed.
“Spread yourself for me, William,” she directed.
Self-conscious and squirming with unease, William slowly parted his legs, baring himself to her. His muscles taut and breath shallow, he waited tensely for her next command.
Going to the side of the bed, the Mistress picked up a soft, black leather restraint that was already attached to one corner of the headboard. Moving slowly, giving him a chance to resist, she pulled his arm up, attaching the restraint to his left wrist. Walking around to the other side of the bed, his right wrist received the same treatment. Two restraints at the foot of the bed were then closed securely around his ankles, pinning him to the bed.
William was now stretched across the bed, his limbs splayed wide. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to relax his muscles, but his bounding pulses throbbed through his body, singing with tension.
“Get used to this position,” the Mistress counseled. “We will use it often.”
“Why?” William asked.
Ignoring the break in etiquette, she responded. “Because, spread-eagled is one of the most vulnerable positions there is. It leaves you totally exposed to me and helpless. And that is how I want you, William. I want you to be aware of how vulnerable you are. That I can do anything I want to you, and you are powerless to stop me.”
A soft moan escaped his lips as William closed his eyes and tilted his head back, surrendering for the first time. His emotions roiled as he accepted his powerlessness, and offered his submission for the first time to the mysterious woman who had claimed him. A strange stillness was his reward as he relaxed into the inevitable and ceased struggling to control the situation. His cock throbbed its need for her.
The Mistress smiled as she watched the small telltale muscles at the corners of his eyes and mouth finally relax. She allowed him to luxuriate in the feeling of surrender for a few moments, and then recalled his attention.
“William, it is time for your next lesson. I am going to ask you to comply with my wishes. I will not tell you what your reward will be, but I will show you the punishment you will receive if you fail to comply. I wish you to be completely silent until I tell you that you may speak. That means no words. None at all. As you are a beginner, groans, gasps, and whimpers will be permitted,” she smiled.
William felt his heart pounding in his chest. This didn’t sound good.
“If you fail in this, you will be gagged. And I think it is time to introduce you to one of my special gags.” Mistress Grace walked over to a cabinet set against a wall to the side of the bed, pulled out a device, and held it up for William to see. From the outside, it looked like a large baby’s pacifier, made of white plastic, with a plastic ring in the center. Attached to it on either side were two black leather straps joined about four inches out, forming a hollow triangle, each of which then joined a single strap, which could obviously be buckled behind the head. To his horror, the inside of the gag showed a flesh-toned rubber penis, more than an inch in diameter and about two inches long. William began unconsciously shaking his head in denial.
“This, William, is the gag I will use on you if you utter a single word without permission.”
“Before we start, do you have any questions? You have my permission to ask them now.”
“How long?” whispered William, unable to tear his eyes away from the abomination in her hand.
“How long what, William?” Grace asked patiently.
“How long do I have to submit to avoid that thing?” he clarified.
“Until I am finished with you, of course,” she said, smiling wickedly.
William groaned at her answer, and tensed involuntarily, a hollow sensation blossoming in his gut. From the drawer in the nightstand the Mistress pulled yet another black swath of fabric and bound William’s eyes. He took a deep breath and relaxed into it, allowing his head to fall back against the pillow. He was truly helpless now, and the threat hanging over his head if he failed to obey was horrifying to William. Swallowing, he clamped his jaw shut, and tensed, awaiting his Mistress’ pleasure.
Without warning, he felt a whispery soft caress floating over his body. Identifying it as a scarf of some sort, it caressed his skin, causing the hairs on his body to rise in response. Soon, her soft hands gently touching and stroking his body replaced the light fabric. He responded to her, sighing and squirming away from the light, tickling touches. Her touches gave way to the gentle scrape of her nails, unexpectedly traveling the length of his body. His skin was now so sensitized that he jerked in response to her breath blowing across his skin.
Satisfied with his responsiveness, Grace went to the small kitchen in the far corner of the room and retrieved a metal bowl from the freezer. Returning, she placed it on the nightstand nearby, removed her boots, and climbed up onto the four-poster bed, straddling William’s waist. Her dark wool skirt rode up on her thighs as she sank down onto his bare stomach, and William felt the tickle of the short hairs concealing her sex. She was again wearing nothing under her skirt.
“All right, William. We are going to begin. Remember, no words,” Mistress Grace cautioned. Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out two small ice chips. One in each hand, she carefully placed them against the sensitive skin just behind his ears. William’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a groan as she slid the ice chips down along his neck, to rest in the hollow of his throat. Slowly the ice melted and pooled at the base of his throat. Grace leaned forward and delicately lapped up the water.
As her tongue touched his skin, William tensed his body, clenching his jaw tightly. When she finished, William released the breath he was holding and relaxed his muscles.
Reaching for two slightly larger chips, Grace next applied them directly to his armpits, watching carefully as William cried out and arched his back, tensing his muscles again. Slowly, she moved the ice, spiraling up his biceps and forearms to rest in the palm of each hand.
“Don’t spill, William, or I will punish you,” she whispered softly. William’s hands trembled as the corded muscles of his neck, shoulders, and arms strained to hold perfectly still. Once the ice melted completely, she again laved his skin free of moisture.
Watching William relax and sigh in relief, Grace knew that he would continue to tense and relax his muscles throughout this exercise. His breathing and heart rate were already beginning to climb in response to the stress, and she knew that by the time this was over he would feel like he had run a marathon.
William felt his body temperature rising, and sweat breaking out between his shoulder blades. Not knowing where to expect the ice next caused his body to remain fully tensed. But his biggest fear was that he would inadvertently call out a word, and earn that repulsive gag as a punishment.
Shifting her position to the foot of the bed, the Mistress next ran the ice between his toes and across the instep of each foot. William hissed and jerked in response, trying to get away, but there was only so much slack in his bonds. She slid the ice up each instep to the inside of his ankles, then the backs of his knees, leaving lacy patterns of moisture as she traced across his inner thighs. He thrashed against his bonds as she continued to torment his limbs, face and neck, avoiding his groin and torso, watching as he repeatedly tensed and relaxed in the wake of her ministrations.
Fists clenched, a strangled groan escaped William’s lips and he clamped his jaws tighter, fighting the urge to beg her to stop. The Mistress waited for his breathing to slow, then shifted her position again to give her attention to his bare torso.
Two ice chips simultaneously connected with his nipples, drawing a gasp of shock from him as he arched off the bed. He writhed under her as she traced circles around each one, meandering across his ribs and sides, then back over his abdomen, to melt and pool in his navel.
William felt each slow, decadent stroke of her tongue as it swirled in and around his navel, lapping up all traces of moisture. He imagined her tongue on his cock, and groaned as it jerked in need.
“Very nice, William,” she praised, caressing the side of his face and trailing her hand down his chest. “Since you can’t speak, let’s see if we can put your mouth to some other use.”
Moving up his chest, she sat on him and slid her feet up to rest on either side of his head. Bending her knees, her feet reversed direction and slid under his outstretched arms, her knees pressing against his shoulders as she straddled his face.
Understanding what she wanted, William tentatively nuzzled the soft lips guarding her core. Hesitantly, he ran his tongue over the tender folds of skin, dipping between them and tasting her. He stroked his tongue slowly and gently over each lip, then slipped the tip of his tongue inside her wet heat.
Impatiently, Grace rubbed herself against his face. William’s tongue began a slow dance, sliding in circles around her sex, dipping in briefly, and then shyly pulling away. The Mistress tolerated the pace briefly, then rose up and began working herself. Rubbing herself fast and hard, she quickly climaxed. Sinking back onto William’s chest as the waves of pleasure subsided, she commented, “You could use some practice in this skill.” She added, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get it.”
Climbing off him and the bed, Mistress Grace reached for the bowl of ice chips on the side table. Gathering a large clump of ice in her right fist, she held it until it began to melt, then, releasing it, reached down with her wet, cold hand and cupped William’s testicles. As he jerked his head off the bed and opened his mouth in a raw scream, she plunged her tongue into his mouth, silencing him. Delving into the deepest recesses, sawing her tongue back and forth across his, taking his breath away, she left him dazed, his blood pounding in his ears, his cock stiff and throbbing.
Almost sobbing, William tried to gain control of himself and his ragged breathing, but the blood and adrenaline coursing through his system had set him on fire. Straining and writhing on the bed, he tried to capture her lips, kiss her skin, anything to show his need for her. Leaning forward, she took his mouth, ravishing him, sliding her hands up and down his exposed body.
Face red from exertion and totally out of control now, he twisted his hips, trying to rub himself against her soft curves. Small animal sounds caught in his throat, as his need raced through his veins like fire.
“You may speak, William,” Grace allowed, as she removed his blindfold.
“Please,” William ground out breathlessly.
“Please, what?” she asked.
“I can’t take any more. Please.”
“Please, what?” Grace demanded relentlessly.
Moaning, William whispered, “Please, Mistress.”
Smiling gently, Grace ran a finger across his jaw, down his throat, and over to circle his left nipple. Pinching it, she said, “Good, William. Very good. But you can take more. And you will. For me.”
Pinching and rubbing both nipples, she ran her tongue along his neck, nipping and sucking his ear lobe. Her hands wandered, tracing slow, small circles across his ribcage and abdomen. Feeling his muscles contract, Grace slowly drew her hand lower. William’s shaft quivered, his thighs and buttocks tense with anticipation. Brushing her hand through the tangled curls, she circled him at his thick base with her thumb and forefinger. Sighing, William luxuriated in the feel of her hand on him. Slowly, she ran the palm of her hand up the length of his shaft, then drew light circles around the head. Clenching his fists with longing, William thrust his hips up, pressing his cock into her hand, wordlessly begging for his release.
Chuckling, she took pity on him. Smoothly applying a condom, she straddled his waist, cradling his face in her hands. Leaning down to capture his lips, she angled back and in one smooth movement encased him with her sleek wetness. Inhaling sharply, William’s circuits promptly overloaded. God, he kept forgetting how good she felt on top of him. He longed to make love to her, taking his time until she was the one writhing under him. As she slowly started riding him, rocking back and forth, he arched his back, thrusting upward to drive himself into her more fully.
Releasing his lips, she nuzzled his neck and her fingertips slid lightly over the delicate skin from armpit to wrist, raising gooseflesh all the way. On the return trip, her nails gently scraped along the sensitized skin, sending shudders through him. She pinched his nipples gently in time with the rhythm of her hips. As her pace increased, he braced his heels against the mattress and drove himself into her faster and more forcefully, slamming his hips into her thighs and finally sending her over the edge into her orgasm. Feeling the shuddering aftereffects of her release, he increased the pace, driving toward his own relief. “No!” she commanded sharply, slapping his chest with the palm of her hand.
Quickly rising from the bed, she left him straining and unfulfilled, pulling futilely at his bonds. “Please, Mistress,” he cried.
Shaking her head, Grace denied his pleading. “No, William. Your release is at my pleasure. You have done nothing tonight to earn such a reward.”
“Damn it, woman!” William exclaimed. “This is what we need to talk about. There are two of us here. Who died and made you God?”
“For the record, that’s Goddess, and one more outburst from you, William, and I will use that gag on you. Now, I’m going to release you, and you will come here and kneel at my feet. You have many lessons to learn before you may be rewarded.”
After releasing his bonds, Grace turned to move away from the bed. William leapt up and grabbed her waist from behind, swinging her around and tossing her face first onto the bed.
As Grace raised herself to her hands and knees, William was already on her. Arms reaching around from behind to catch her wrists, he placed one hard thigh between her knees, pressing her forward and splaying her legs wide.
Grasping both her wrists in one hand, he spread her legs farther apart, her skirt riding up high on her hips. Then, bracing himself against the side of the bed, he impaled her on his throbbing shaft. Reaching up with his free hand, he placed it on the nape of her neck, gently pressing her into the mattress.
Grace froze, and then went limp, but William, in the throes of his own passion, was so far gone on a sea of sensation that he failed to notice her reaction. With her pinned between his hips and the bed, William reached around and cupped her breast, gently squeezing it, and circled the rough pad of his thumb over her crinkly, erect nipple, drawing a soft sigh from her as he pounded his shaft deep into her hot, wet center. When he came, the explosion was so intense it rocked him to the soles of his feet. Breathless, sweaty, and spent, he collapsed atop her, unable to support his own weight.
A few moments went by, and then in a soft, tentative voice that he had never heard from her before, Grace asked, “Are you through with me? Will you please let me up now?”
Thrown by this new demeanor, William carefully turned her over, inspecting her face for any sign of the outrage he expected to see. Inexplicably, he saw a softness and timidity in her eyes, instead.
“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think I will let you up. In fact, I think I would like to see you tied up for a change. Yes, turnabout is fair play. We’ll talk later. Right now, I want to see you spread for me.” So saying, he placed her in the center of the bed, and drew first one wrist then the other up to the restraints that had so recently held him stretched in the same position. Moving to the foot of the bed, he captured her legs and attached the ankle restraints.
Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he saw that she was stretched tightly across the bed, totally vulnerable to him. Her chest fluttered in rhythm with her fast, ragged breaths, and small mewing noises were coming from deep in her throat.
Retrieving her knife from her boot, William cut her clothing from her body, exposing her to him for the first time. Already hard for her again, he climbed on the bed between her legs, and slowly, reverently, began to worship the goddess before him. Petting, stroking, and kissing, he learned her body.
He ran his tongue around her nipple, enjoying the small gasp she released, then slowly suckled her. Cupping her other breast in his hand, he gently pinched that nipple, feeling it harden beneath his fingers. As he explored her body, she was quiet and unresisting. At last, unable to deny himself any longer, he again plunged into her. He rode her hard and fast, delighting in the joy of being in control. Of his power over her. He let out a roar of satisfaction as he came, then succumbed to his exhaustion, curling up next to her with one arm sprawled across her rib cage, gently cupping her breast, his thigh pressed between her legs, and fell asleep.
* * *
Thirty slow minutes went by as William slept peacefully next to Grace. Still tied to the bed, she schooled herself to patience. Then, the back door to the cabin silently opened, and a tall, muscular man emerged. Stepping quietly to the bed, he held a large wad of white cotton before William’s face. Grace turned her head away and held her breath.
“He’s under,” reported the deeply resonant voice.
“Then get me out of these restraints, Richard,” Grace demanded. Once she was free, she massaged her wrists as she glared at him. “You certainly took your sweet time.”
“I had to be sure he wouldn’t wake,” Richard shrugged.
“Well, get him downstairs for processing. I don’t want him to lose more than two or three hours.”
“Yes, Mistress Grace,” he replied, lifting the unconscious William into a fireman’s carry and heading back through the open doorway. Careful not to bump against walls or doorframes, Richard navigated through a large, dark room, then through another door with stairs leading down to a well-lit basement.
The basement more closely resembled a medical facility than anything else, and, indeed, that was part of its function. Placing William gently on a padded gurney, Richard called out, “Ronnie, I’ve got your patient.”
A tall, slender woman appeared from another room. Her dark, wavy hair reached almost to her hips and framed an exotic face with high cheekbones and large, soft eyes, carefully concealed behind dark-framed glasses. She was wearing the two hallmarks of her profession, a lab coat and a stethoscope…over a damp green bikini that revealed her high, small breasts, long, flat torso, and lushly curved hips.
“You’re early,” she said, turning to Grace, who was pulling on a robe as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes, well, our boy’s precocious. I didn’t expect him to turn aggressive until Sunday.”
“Standard lab workup?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, do all the blood work, a brain scan, and a cardiac workup, but I also want a complete genetic profile on this one.”
“Will do. How long do I have?”
“Can you make it in two hours?” the Mistress asked.
“It’ll be close, but I’ll try.”
“Thanks, Ronnie. You’re the best.”
“So you keep telling me, but do I get a pay raise?” Ronnie joked.
“Be a good girl, Ronnie, or I’ll spank you,” the Mistress said, belting the robe and turning to ascend the stairs.
Turning back to her patient, Ronnie looked closely at William. “Mmm, he is a pretty one, isn’t he?” she commented to Richard.
“I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed,” Richard agreed.
“Well, let’s get started. The poor boy is going to have a headache as it is. I don’t want to have to dose him again if I can avoid it.” So saying, they wheeled William out of the corridor and into the state-of-the-art examining room, where they began the most thorough physical examination that he had ever had.
|
|
|