HAVEN

The crush of snow, dirt and oil outside the drab building, combined with the almost unnatural quiet, belied the warmth and faint, deep heartthrob of drum-and-bass that leaked from the metal door, intensifying as a window slid open with a faint, rusty screech at his knock.

The eyes inside looked suspiciously over the two standing in the cold, the man standing broadly, confidently in the fresh powder, his thin, but not scrawny frame wrapped in the Designer’s latest double-breasted wool overcoat, top buttons open to reveal the lapels of an equally expensive suit and silk tie. The exquisitely tailored pants fell in an unbroken line to brush the tops of handcrafted, Italian leather wingtips and his closely-cropped auburn hair peeked out from under a matching fedora. The woman on his left and a barely noticeable half-step back stood maybe four inches above his shoulder; long, orange-red hair cascaded uncovered over a matching black overcoat, hers belted at the waist to accentuate her eye-catching hourglass figure. Sheer black, back-seamed stockings extended down her shapely legs into round-toed stilettos fastened at her ankles, fashioned of the same supple leather as his wingtips.

Their inspection finished, they waited in the soft fall of white until the eyes simply stared at the man. He shifted the case he carried to his other hand, both sheathed in butter-soft black leather. He lifted his left hand, exposing the triskelion ring he wore over the glove, to the door. The eyes flickered over the symbol for a moment, then the viewport slid closed again. A latch-noise later, the door swung open, letting out a gust of briefly-steaming warmth, this time attached to the gagged mouth and shapely body of the doorkeeper, nipples of her round, perky tits tweaked by clamps attached to her collar with lengths of thin chain holding them erect, her sex covered by a locked chastity belt and feet supported by impossibly tall-heeled point shoes, all of a sweet pink vinyl. Wrists and ankles cuffed together then chained to her waist, she still managed a surprisingly graceful curtsey and ushered them in.

The heavy door closed behind them and as the soft thud faded, the inner door, made of finely polished dark cherry wood opened into the antechamber, decorated in rich reds, polished silver and jet black. The schoolgirl who greeted them was more conservatively dressed, white shirt and dark green tie matching her black and green plaid skirt, hemmed at her upper-mid thigh. Sheer black socks dipped into conservative flats, and her fire engine red lipstick set a striking contrast. Her arms were stretched out horizontally, fine black leather cuffs attached to the twisted iron bar extending from either side of her collar. Bobbed black hair barely brushed the tops of her shoulders and swished delightfully as she walked them into the room.

“Hello and welcome, Sir. I’m Delilah, and on behalf of Master Christopher, I am most pleased to welcome you both to Haven.” She dipped into an eye-drawing curtsey that hiked her skirt up even further, then straightened. “May I take your coat Master? Or your companion’s?” At the man’s slight nod, she eased him out of his overcoat with the ease of long practice, then walked over to a couch and facing away from him, bent at the waist to lay it across the arm, skirt sliding up to reveal a bare bottom, crisscrossed with the fine pink lines of a recent caning, the bare shave lips of her exposed pussy peeking out from between her crossed thighs. Straightening and turning in time to catch the man’s appraising look, she blushed flirtatiously and walked over to help his companion.

The redhead, still not having said a word, unbelted and unbuttoned her coat. At a nod from her escort, the opened the coat and let it slide from her body. The coat pooled at her feet with the liquid rustle of fine wool, revealing breathtakingly bare breasts; the black silk brocade corset cinched around her middle supporting them weightlessly, nipples firm and flushed from the cold. Delilah gasped in delight at the sight of them, then abashedly composed herself and dipped in a curtsey to retrieve the coat, walking back to the couch to lay it next to the other.

While the schoolgirl was occupied, the man dipped into his pocket and retrieved a leather collar, beautifully stitched and banded with silver in the middle, an engraved ring dangling from the middle front. At the sight of the collar, his companion knelt gracefully on the richly patterned rug, tilting her chin up to expose her slender neck, skirt hiking up over her buttocks to reveal a delicate black lace garter belt and matching thong. Holding her hair off her neck with one hand, he deftly slipped the leather around her throat and latched it, securing it with a micro padlock. Letting her hair fall back against her shoulders, the man caressed her cheek lovingly with his still-gloved hands, smiling affectionately at the adoring smile she graced him with in return.

“Sir? Mustn’t keep Master Christophe waiting.” Delilah ventured, immediately trailing off when she saw that she’d intruded on the moment. Without saying a word, the man straightened, turned to face the woman and snapped, pointing to the arm of a couch, and gesturing for her to bend over it. Eyes downcast, Delilah complied. Once she had assumed her position, the man spoke in a soft, kindly voice, “What is your normal punishment for interrupting?”

“F-Four strikes sir, normally with Master Christophe’s cane.”

Without responding, he tugged the glove off his left hand, catching the ring as it fell and dropping it into a pocket. With his right he flipped the back of her skirt off her ass and smoothed the skin for a moment, gripping the leather glove in his left hand. With a sudden movement he struck her ass loudly with the glove on the left ass-cheek, immediately followed by one to the right before pausing. Delilah “Eep!”-ed in pain with each strike, but her slit began to get damp, belying her discomfort. Stroking her with his right hand for a moment again, he repeated the left, right strikes, earning two more outbursts and more moisture. Tapping her lightly a final time right on her cunt, he spoke, “That was your reminder from me not to interrupt. Make sure you don’t give a bad impression of your Master’s training. I know he taught you better than that. You may stand.”

Delilah stood, wiggled her hips a moment to resettle her skirt and opened the inner doors to the building, dipping into a deep curtsey as they passed her.

END CHAPTER ONE