READING ALLOWED

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

       She thought, for perhaps the 1oth time since getting into the car, Just play it cool, but the more she admonished herself to act natural, the more self-conscious she got.  When she parked her car at the bookstore and got out, she looked like any other undergrad with her backpack, jeans, and flip flops, bent on a night of study at the Barnes & Noble.  No one had any reason to look at her—but she couldn’t help feeling that everyone in the parking lot, and then in the store, could tell that her pussy was already warming and twitching in anticipation. 

       She could feel it throbbing as she casually strolled down one of the aisles.  Without meaning to, she saw her own plump pussy lips in her mind’s eye, delicately enclosed in her most adorable pair of panties, the pink lacy pair with the matching bra that she’d put on earlier in the evening—though she wasn’t quite sure why she had.

       No one was going to see her lingerie.  Marie didn’t have a boyfriend, wasn’t even dating anyone.  In fact, she’d been spending more time with her professors lately than the students her own age.  She was doing brilliantly in school—had turned in a paper just last week that her English Lit professor wanted her to try to publish.  It was a particularly inspired explication that pointed out the rape imagery in the poetry of John Donne.  Yes, that was her focus right now—school, and her backpack loaded with assignments.

       There was just one thing to do first.  Marie lingered in the literature section, letting her fingers skim along the rows of titles, pausing every now and then to take out a book and examine it, as if browsing.  Except her heartbeat kept getting louder and louder as she progressed through the rows of alphabetized authors’ names… Porter… Pyle … Ratliffe … There.  Ann Rice—The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty.  With a quick look around, making sure she was unobserved, Marie soundlessly slid the slim book off the shelf with hands that had gone clammy.  She clutched it against her chest, her arm effectively obscuring the title and plot synopsis on the back cover.

       Marie made her way to a cluster of armchairs grouped invitingly around a little coffee table.  There was an elderly woman already there, and Marie experienced an agonizing moment of indecision about whether to make eye contact with her.  The old lady looked up and nodded at her, and Marie managed a weak smile as she slipped off her backpack and slid into the chair opposite.  She carefully spread open her book on her knees, leaned forward, and began to read.

          Despite her precautions, Marie hadn’t been entirely unnoticed by the staff and customers at the bookstore.  Despite her unremarkable clothes, her blonde hair pulled back into two French braids, her petite, slender figure, and her pretty green eyes behind her glasses were enough to catch the attention of at least a few of the males present.  Then there was the way her expression changed as she read.  While Marie was reading about the Prince making Beauty walk naked alongside his horse, or tying her naked outside a tavern for the villagers to fondle and gawk at while he slaked his thirst inside, her eyes would grow rounder and rounder, and her skin would flush perceptibly.  She appeared utterly absorbed in her dirty story, and to at least one interested observer, she seemed to be squirming a bit in her chair.

            He knew exactly which book she was reading—and even had a fair idea of where she was in the story—because this wasn’t the first time he had observed her reading it. 

           And he was quite familiar with the book himself.

          He wondered if she had any idea how obvious she was.  The rhythmic way her legs moved slightly apart and then together, slowly or quickly depending on what she read, her occasionally ragged breathing and the way she unconsciously rubbed her palms against her thighs made her arousal evident to anyone who was paying attention.

          He had been paying attention.  Oh, yes.  And he thought this might be the night he’d allow her to know it.

        

       Marie finally tore herself away from the book, telling herself sternly it was time to get to work studying.  But she was feeling pretty desperate.  Her pussy was so hungry it was all she could do not to put her hand there and press for even just a moment to get some relief—and she knew she’d already been moving her hips while she read, wriggling her ass like some whore.  Maybe she could step into the bathroom for just a minute…  Get a grip, she thought. 

            She was ashamed at herself for feeling so out of control.  Normally she managed everything and was so responsible, completing her assignments early, always making it to class on time—hell, she even ate a balanced diet.  What was it about this book—this fantasy, the bound, naked, and helpless princess, that so obsessed her?  Why didn’t she get this excited when boys her own age kissed her or fondled her, in their fumbling way, at parties or during the few dates she’d been on?

       Pressing her hands against her burning cheeks for a moment, Marie prepared herself for the next challenge—putting the cursed book back where it went with no one the wiser.  The old lady had left, but there was a middle-aged woman sitting next to her now, and a mother arguing with her teenaged daughter in an aisle nearby.  One night, when there was a bigger crowd around her in this same store, she’d made a show of getting something out of her backpack and then discreetly shoved the book into the chair cushions out of sight rather than risk putting it back on the shelf.  She’d agonized for days about what the store employee who’d found it must have thought, prayed whoever it was hadn’t noticed her sitting there earlier.  But tonight the store seemed empty enough for her to risk it.

       Taking care to hold the book so as to conceal its cover, Marie stood, shrugged her backpack on, and walked carefully in the direction of the Fiction section.  With her arms crossed across her chest, she had to resist the urge to squeeze her own breasts—and was disgusted with herself for having the impulse in the first place.  Truly, the sooner she got the book back in place and had some dry school text in front of her—preferably seated on a cold, hard chair—the better off she’d be.  But she couldn’t rush this.  She’d die of shame if anyone found out what she’d been reading so raptly.

       Marie was relieved to see that the Ann Rice row was empty.  Without relaxing her guard, she made straight for the telltale gap where she’d removed the Beauty story from the tightly packed shelves.  No one was in sight—this was not the moment to take her time pretending to browse.  Gingerly, without making a sound, she reached up and slid the book back into place—and suddenly knew there was someone right behind her.

       Her breath catching in her throat, Marie spun around in panic, only to find herself staring at a very near, very male chest.

           Above that chest was a dark, close-trimmed beard, shot through with gray, within which was a mouth with a slight, ironic smile. 

           But it was the eyes that gripped her and held her there, speechless.  Not that there was anything particularly special about his eyes, in and of themselves; they were blue-gray and bright with intelligence beneath heavy eyebrows and a broad forehead.  Their expression was friendly, with a hint of amusement.

           But what was making it difficult for Marie to breathe was the overwhelming sense she had, from the way he was looking at her, that this man knew her—knew her in a way nobody else did; knew her better than she knew herself.

           She knew who he was, though not by name.  This was his store and he was usually there.  He had often been at the register when she had bought books so there had been the kind of brief exchanges that accompanied such transactions.  But she had never paid much attention to how he looked, other than finding him vaguely attractive in an older-guy kind of way, and wouldn’t have thought he had ever taken particular notice of her either.

           Until now.

           His voice, when he spoke, was casual—but somehow intimate, as if the two of them had had many conversations before.

           “I see you’re an Ann Rice fan,” he said, glancing briefly at the shelf behind her.

           Marie’s sense of panic ratcheted up a notch.  Had she put the book all the way back onto the shelf?  Had he seen?

           “…And not an ordinary Ann Rice fan, either,” he continued, reaching over her head and plucking The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty from its place.  “A…connoisseur, shall we say.”

          And with that he flipped open the book, leaned towards Marie and to her astonishment read her a paragraph from the very page she had been reading.  A paragraph that had made her flush when she had read it to herself, but now, hearing it read out loud to her by a man she hardly knew, struck her absolutely white.

           Marie wanted to run.  Brush past this man who knew too much about her, hurry out of the store and never return.

           But then he closed the book and returned it to its place behind her.  And when he lowered his hand he rested it lightly on her shoulder then placed his other hand on her other shoulder.

           Holding her in his gaze he used his thumbs to slide the straps of her backpack off her shoulders.  The sudden noise as it hit the floor made her jump, but he steadied her with his hands.

           He leaned in close and said, “Stay here.”

           Then he turned away from her, walked to the center of the store and announced, “Closing time, ladies and gentlemen.  Closing time.”

       Marie stood rooted to the spot, numb with shock.  Good Lord, the worst possible thing had just happened.  Not only had she been caught reading porn, but she’d been caught by him, the store owner, this—this magnetic man who was not going to let this go.  She felt shaken to the core, recalling his voice in her ear, reading aloud the words, the images, that made her feel such powerful arousal.  Oh, God, how did he know?

       Suddenly Marie realized that she was standing there with her mouth hanging open.  She became aware that the store’s customers were trickling out, some grumbling, but no one attempting to question the man’s announcement.  And they were leaving her… alone with him.  How much time had she wasted standing there like an idiot?  He was close, but his back was to her.  She should be long gone—surely there was a back door, or an emergency exit, or something.

       Feeling strangely weak, Marie forced herself to move and started edging towards the opposite end of the aisle, away from him.  That last command of his—stay here—kept echoing in her head, and she thought she could still feel his hands on her shoulders, holding her still.  It had been a gentle touch, but, combined with the heat of his intense gaze, a compelling one.  She had almost reached the end of the row, and was just about to duck around the corner and make a run for it, when he turned around and looked at her.

       Marie felt pinned.  And when he started striding purposefully towards her, she couldn’t help letting out a little squeak of terror.  But he just reached down and grabbed her backpack off the floor where she had left it.  Giving her that same twisted smile, he walked off with it, out of her sight.

       Oh, shit.  Now what?  How could she have forgotten to pick up her bag?  It had everything in it—her wallet, her keys, not to mention her expensive textbooks.  She couldn’t just leave it here, even if she found another way out of this damn store.  Get a grip, Marie, she said to herself.  She was acting like a frightened child.  So he embarrassed you—so what?  She was just going to march right up to him and demand her stuff back.  Just as soon as she could breathe again.  She could hear the last couple of customers going out the doors.  And then the lights went off.

       Or most of them, at least.  The soft, spot lighting in the café area and the children’s section stayed on, plus a few scattered fluorescent lights, left on for security, she imagined.  For a brief, crazy moment, Marie wondered if he’d just left her in the store alone—locked the door behind him and gone.  But no, he’d told her to stay put, implying that they had unfinished business.  Well, she wasn’t going to stay here, cowering in this dark aisle, for one second longer.  She was taking control of this situation right now.  Squaring her shoulders, she took three determined steps out into the store—and was promptly caught by the arm.

       Jesus, how did he just come out of nowhere like that? Marie thought wildly as the store owner, who now seemed bigger and even more enigmatic in the dim light, hustled her back to where she had been standing.  To where she had been told to wait.

       He positioned her exactly as she had been.  Dropped the backpack at her feet.  Then simply stood and held her in his gaze for a long moment before reaching up and pulling Beauty from its shelf again…and handing it to her.

          “Your turn,” was all he said.

       For a moment, Marie just stood there, clutching the book and staring at it as if she didn’t know what it was.  Then she looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise, her eyes wide.  “You… you want me to read it?”  Her voice, barely audible before, now dropped to a whisper.  “Out loud?”

       He smiled by way of reply.  He thought it was telling that the first words out of her mouth were not a protest.  She was looking down and fidgeting, and her face was red, but she wasn’t running away, and he could sense the simmering arousal in the sound of her quick breathing and the tension in her body.

Marie was thinking fast.  Maybe she could just get it over with, and then he’d let her go.  If he was just trying to humiliate her, maybe she could thwart him by finding some perfectly innocuous passage to read out loud—but who was she trying to kid?  There was no innocuous passage in the whole stupid book.  That’s why she had to be so careful about reading it, and why she kept coming back to it, truth be told.

She’d been staring at her feet, but now Marie risked a quick look at the man’s face, to see if he’d changed his mind.  He was still looking at her, hemming her in, waiting patiently, as if he knew she’d eventually give in and do just what he asked.  For the second time, Marie felt a flare of indignation, and she latched onto it eagerly.  She’d show him she wasn’t intimidated.  He’d probably lose interest if she acted like she wasn’t embarrassed.  With one defiant glance up at her tormentor, Marie opened the book at random and started to read.

To her horror, she’d selected the chapter where the Prince makes Beauty crawl on the floor at the inn and kneel at his feet while he eats.  So much for not being embarrassed—although her voice started out strong, she hadn’t gotten through a paragraph before her face flamed and her throat dried up.  Good Lord, this was not the kind of stuff she would have shared with anyone, let alone a strange man!  For them to be reading it together like this was obscene!  And yet the images were working on her, the way they always did, and she saw herself again as Beauty, cringing and ashamed as she crawled naked in front of the villagers and the soldiers.  As always, her skin seemed to tingle as if she were the one so mercilessly exposed, her nipples hardening, heat rushing to pool between her legs.  Marie knew a terrible desire to take one step closer to the man, just to bring her itching, tingling breasts into contact with his hard chest. 

She tried to continue reading but her voice had now completely vanished and all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strangled, incoherent whisper.  She was sure he knew exactly why, too.  But when she dared to glance up at him his expression was sympathetic.

“You’re throat is dry.  Wait a moment.”  He left her and Marie watched as he disappeared behind a door marked “Employees Only.”  Again she considered the possibility of escape…but now the thought seemed irrelevant.  She felt as though her feet were rooted to the spot and that she wouldn’t be able to move from it.

Unless he said she could.

So Marie simply waited--not reading the book, not thinking about anything—just staring at the door and waiting for him to return.

And in a moment he did, carrying a paper cup of water.  But instead of simply handing it to her he held it up to her lips, his eyes on hers.  Marie eagerly opened her mouth to drink but something about the way he was making her drink from his hand and the way he was holding her in his gaze seemed to arouse her even further.  She fought to control her breathing as she drank, to not let him see the effect he was having on her.

But she was sure he knew.

When he took the now empty cup away from her lips he simply asked, “Better?”  And when she nodded he nodded slowly in reply, as if agreeing with her, and said, “Continue.”

Marie hesitated.  She knew that, just on the next page, the princess was going to be spanked.  She couldn’t possibly read that part out loud!  Please, let him stop me before then, she thought.  Taking a deep breath, she read a little farther, in a halting, whispery voice, then trailed off before the prince gave the fatal order for Beauty’s punishment.  She closed the book defiantly, with a panicky little snap, but kept her gaze on the floor, her face red.

“What happens next?”

       Marie felt her face get even redder as he spoke in that quiet, commanding voice.  Damn the man—he had no mercy!  But she realized vaguely that her embarrassment was now vying with some other feeling, some other impulse, which had everything to do with the man in front of her and the fact that she’d been waiting for years for someone to come along and give her orders, just as he was doing.  And yes, she was still a little afraid of him, but she was also experiencing the most delicious anticipation, could hardly wait to know what he’d make her do next.  So she took a deep breath and started to stammer, “She—well, she, um—”

       “Look at me.”

       Marie was startled into doing just that, and when she encountered the heat in his gaze, her breath failed her again.  Somehow, she managed to squeak, a bit desperately, “She gets spanked, Sir!”  And then she clapped a hand over her mouth in astonishment, her face so dismayed it was comical.  She couldn’t believe she’d just called him that!  But she realized that she was hornier now than she’d ever been in her life.

           Completely flustered now, her face burning, Marie dropped her hand to grip the book again and watched to see if he would smile at her slip of the tongue.   

           Instead, he nodded again, gravely--the nod acknowledging not only the correctness of her statement but of the way she had addressed him.  And that gaze…damn him, he knew exactly what she was feeling, she was sure of it; knew the effect he was having on her, knew she was just waiting for him to…

           “That’s right,” he said, interrupting her thoughts with his matter-of-fact voice, “She gets spanked.”

          Marie knew he was no longer talking about the princess even before he lifted Beauty from her now trembling hands.

           “Pull down your pants,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

       Her instinct was to obey him, and Marie’s hands went almost immediately to the button on her jeans.  But then she froze, as it suddenly occurred to her that they were in public.  The store was empty of people, but anyone walking past the giant windows facing the parking lot could see into the store, might even notice the man’s head where it showed above the bookshelves.         

       He saw her eyes flick nervously towards the windows at the front of the store and responded with another brief, sympathetic smile.  “Let’s go somewhere more private,” he said, and caught her arm again, leading her, unresisting, towards that same door he’d gone through earlier. 

       Marie’s relief that the man had understood her fear only lasted a moment, before she was overcome with confusion.   Oh, God, could she really about to willingly submit to a spanking from this total stranger?  Was she really on the verge of pulling down her pants for him?  It was not as if she was with a boy her own age, both of them disrobing while they made out in her dorm room.  This was different—he was controlling the situation, controlling her, pushing and prodding just the right way to make her weak with desire.  What would he do next? She couldn’t help but wonder.  Surely he’d make her bend over...the thought made her so hot she let out a little moan.

       She tried to muffle it, unsuccessfully, and was mortified when her tormentor stopped in mid-step and turned to face her.  The knowing look in his eyes made her want to melt into the ground. 

           He released her arm, stood close to her and said, “I see you’re in a hurry.”  His voice was as calm as if he was discussing the weather. “Pull down your pants.  Now.”

           They were still out in the store, at the very back, just outside the “Employees Only” door.  But Marie knew that he was right: that she was going to do what he told her to do; that she was so aroused now that she would do it even if they were standing in the store window.

           She looked down and watched, hypnotized, while her hands unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans…then tugged them past her hips.  Then, unable to help herself, she raised her eyes to his, desperate to see him watching her as she slowly lowered her pants to her thighs…then her knees…and finally to her ankles, the very act of bending, then crouching in order to do so while holding his gaze sending a shudder of pleasure through her as if he were the one bending her over.

           Which he was, Marie realized.

           She stood up as slowly as she had bent, her arms hanging by her sides, her gaze never leaving his for an instant.  When she was fully upright, however, she watched his gaze travel downward to take in the lacy pink panties she was now displaying to him—and for the first time that day she was very glad she had worn them.

           His reaction was a laconic, but appreciative, “Mmmm.” 

           Then he simply turned and disappeared through the door, leaving it open and calling “Back here,” over his shoulder as he went.

           Marie was stunned for a moment.  Was he expecting her to-- Yes, obviously he was.  Marie stood, clenching and unclenching her fists.  Then, with her pants still around her ankles she shuffled through the door after him, cursing him—first for humiliating her this way, and then for knowing it was exactly what she wanted.

       He didn’t even have the decency to look away while she awkwardly made her way into the room.  No, he had turned to face her and stood there staring unapologetically.  He seemed amused.  He indicated with a gesture that she should continue to come forward, and as she did, Marie furtively looked around.  They were in the employees’ break room.  There were a couple of vending machines, a refrigerator, a sink, and two long folding tables, pushed together end to end.  A few boxes of new merchandise and promotional materials for the store were stacked around.

       Marie stopped when she was still a few feet away from him and looked up uncertainly.  He was staring at the wispy pink triangle that covered her mound.  She quelled an obscene urge to push her hips forward, give him a better view.  He met her eyes, then said, “Turn around,” making a pirouetting motion with his finger.

       When she hesitated a bit too long, reluctant to resume her awkward shuffle, he suddenly snapped, “Now!”

       Marie jumped and rushed to spin around, but when her back was to him he said, “Stop.”  She obediently froze.  Her heart pounded.  She could feel him staring at her ass.  Her skin tingled, and again she had to resist the impulse to push it towards him.  She knew he’d be able to see how damp her panties had gotten if she did that, and her embarrassment made her stay still.

       “Turn,” he said again, and Marie started to complete her circle, but he stopped her again before she was through, and she found herself facing the table.  She gave a startled gasp as she felt his hand on her back, warm even through her clothes, and she let him guide her a few steps closer to the table. 

“Put your hands on the table.”

Marie did, bending forward at the waist.

“Now, put your nose to the table,” came his voice, and God help her, she did that too, aware that her ass was now sticking obscenely up into the air.  She was barely aware that she moaned again, and that she was breathing loudly out of her mouth.  She felt his breath brush her ear as he said softly, “Good girl,” and a surge of intense pleasure went through her at the praise.

She heard his footsteps retreating…then the loud click of the door as it latched closed.  Marie suddenly wished they hadn’t come into this room.  The door closing seemed to say to her, No turning back now.  She started to shake.

He was coming back towards her.  Marie heard his footsteps approaching and gritted her teeth against what she was sure would be an immediate, open-handed slap to her behind. 

The footsteps stopped just behind her.

There was silence.

Marie imagined him studying her behind as if deciding on the most sensitive place to land his first below.  Slowly raising his hand to shoulder height…then back, ready to strike.  She felt the muscles of her behind tensing in anticipation and at the same time was shocked to feel tears well up and begin to run down her cheeks and drip from her quivering chin.

The silence continued.  And continued.

Oh Christ, why didn’t he begin?  The waiting was killing her!  What the hell was he waiting for?

Her entire body was shaking now.  She couldn’t stand the torture another second.  She lifted her head and prepared to push herself upright…

…Only to be shoved back into position, hard enough to bang her nose on the table, by his hand on the back of her head.  She cried out with the pain of it and struggled briefly to free herself from his hand, but to no avail.  He simply continued to hold her in place until she subsided.  Only then was his hand removed.

The silence continued as she calmed herself and allowed her anger—some of it, anyway—to drain.

Only when Marie was completely settled into her position again did he finally speak.

He said only one word:  “Ask.”

Marie’s whole body stiffened.  Ask to be spanked by him?  He had to be kidding.  She couldn’t possibly—she opened her mouth to protest, got as far as “But—” before she caught herself.  Of course.  It fit the pattern.  That bastard wasn’t going to let her pretend, even for a second, that she didn’t want this, that she was an innocent victim.  If she wanted him to spank her, and oh, God, she did, then she was going to have to beg for it.

With a valiant effort, Marie choked out, “Please…Sir, will you…”  Her voice came out a trembling whisper, and it didn’t help that she was talking into the table, so it wasn’t surprising when he said, “What?”

She turned her head to one side and tried again.  “Please, Sir—”

“I can’t hear you.”

In that moment, Marie hated him.  She felt her hands fisting in frustration and suddenly growled, in a much louder voice, “I want you to spank me!”

She couldn’t see his face, but could picture him raising his eyebrows at her outburst, smiling in that supercilious way.  She blushed.  Before he could admonish her, she quickly added, “Please,” in a softer tone.  After another pause, she gritted out, “Sir.”

He must have leaned down from her blind side because suddenly his lips were almost touching her ear as he said, softly, “I know.”

It was such a stupid, obvious thing to say.  Of course he knew that was what she wanted—why else would she be in such a ridiculous, humiliating position?  Hadn’t he just forced her to ask for it?

But something about the way he’d said it –intimately, caressingly, so close to her—implied a depth of knowledge far beyond those two simple words.  Knowledge of her, Marie, and her most secret, shameful desires; needs she’d never dared to admit even to herself.

He knew.  Oh God yes, he knew—and that simple fact sent Marie right to the edge of orgasm; would have sent her right over the edge if she hadn’t clamped down on herself, biting her lip, to prevent it. 

She fought it down… and then wondered why she had done so.

His hands were gently lifting her head, returning it to its nose-down position.

Because he didn’t tell me I could, she suddenly realized—and had to fight off yet another orgasm at this sudden knowledge of his power over her.

Power she had surrendered to him. 

Gladly.

Oh God, her panties were sopping wet.  She felt his hands releasing her head and wanted them back.  She wanted…she wanted…Oh Christ…

She began to beg, realizing dimly that she’d lost the last shred of her self-control.  She was babbling, nearly incoherently, “Oh, God, please do something…please help me…I need—I need…”

He silenced her with a hard swat to her upraised ass.  “Be quiet,” he snapped.  Marie, still trying to catch her breath after the shock of that first blow, was incapable of speech, but she felt a little shiver of pleasure at his firm tone.

And then, all at once, it had begun.  Whack!  Whack!  Marie started to weep again almost immediately, although she tried to stifle her cries.  Her arousal momentarily lessened with the pain of the spanking.  In all the years she’d dreamed of this very thing happening to her, she’d never thought it would hurt this much.  He certainly wasn’t going easy on her. 

Whack!  Whack!  Whack!

When Marie started to wiggle desperately, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and squirming under his hand, the man paused.  He ran his hand over her reddened cheeks, slipped one finger under the edge of her panties and followed the line of the fabric down…down…

Marie held her breath.  Please, please, let him touch me…  All her desire came flooding back, stronger than before.  She closed her eyes.  She moaned out loud.

Suddenly he grabbed her braids, pulled her head up, and slid the book under her nose.  In dismay, Marie saw that it was open to the same page she’d been reading out loud in the store.  She’d forgotten he had it.

“Now, read.”   

What?

Oh God, she had been so close, so close…and now he wanted her to read again?  Jesus H. Fuck, she was so horny she couldn’t focus her eyes, let alone read. 

There was no way, and she started to turn her head to tell him so...just as he grabbed hold of her panties and jerked her up until her feet left the floor, the crotch digging painfully between her legs.  Then with his free hand he landed another vicious slap on the now exposed cheeks of her behind and roared, “I…said…READ!”

The flare of anger Marie felt this time was brief and promptly faded.  Her predominant impulse was to obey him as quickly as she could.  “Okay, okay!” she gasped out, relieved when he lowered her feet back to the floor.  He didn’t let go of her panties, though, and the thin fabric felt delicious pressing against her pussy, and, ever so slightly, against her hungry clit.  She wanted badly to rock against it… Focus, she told herself, and determinedly turned her eyes to the open book.

The problem was, even if she were alone in her own room, Marie would have trouble reading this particular section out loud.  It included Beauty’s second spanking, ordered by the Prince and administered by the innkeeper’s daughter—with a paddle.  In the scene, the Prince’s soldiers in the room watched with interest, while the curious villagers, pressed up against the windows outside the inn, had a perfect view of the mortified Beauty’s crotch as she lay across the other girl’s lap.  The cool way the Prince handed her over to another, the use of the paddle, the crowd—why did these details make it so much worse?  Marie licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath.

Whack!

She yelped, but got the message.  She had hesitated too long.  Hurriedly, Marie read out the first sentence.  She’d always been good at reading aloud, but now her voice came out shaky and quiet.  When she came to the word “paddle,” it dropped to a whisper and she stuttered.

Whack!

So this is how it’s going to be, Marie thought grimly.  It made sense.  If she were “in trouble” for reading BDSM erotica in public, spanking her while she read it out loud was an appropriate punishment.

But the punisher was not going to play fair, she soon discovered.  As she recovered herself and tried to go on reading, his free hand started to explore again, stroking the silky skin of her inner thighs, brushing ever so lightly over the tight bulge of her pussy lips through the stretched fabric of her panties.  When he did that, she completely lost her focus.  She stopped in mid-sentence, gasping, “Oh!  Yes…”

Whack!

And so it went, for several paragraphs.  Whenever she managed to focus on the page, he’d start touching her, and when she got distracted, or made the slightest error in her diction, he’d spank her hard until she was back on track. 

After a while it no longer seemed to matter whether he was spanking her or stroking her, whether she was reading correctly or stumbling over every other word, whether she was Marie or Beauty.  She had entered a beautiful, hazy dimension where every sensation was an erotic one, where she was always just seconds away from reaching an orgasm of life-altering intensity--if she could just…surrender…a little more deeply.

So she read and she was stroked and she stumbled and she was spanked and she knew that it would go on like that forever, and it made her very happy.

But eventually, with no idea of how it had happened or how long it had taken her, Marie reached the end of the chapter.  She hesitated for a moment and was about to go on when the book was whisked away from beneath her face.  Then his hands were on her shoulders and she was flipped over onto her back as easily as if she were a feather pillow.

Her legs would no longer support her and slid backwards beneath the table.  Marie slithered downward and would have landed jarringly on her knees if he had not continued to hold her and let her down gently. 

But the sudden change in position had shaken her awake.  She opened her eyes, which had been half-closed, the better to enjoy her erotic dream-world…

…And found herself facing, at a distance of a few inches, the front of his pants.

She stared, transfixed, at the distinct bulge there.  Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut and she licked her lips nervously.  She didn’t see the grimace, as if in pain, on the man’s face when she did that.  She reached out one hand, but just as she was about to touch him she suddenly came back to herself, yanked her hand back, and peeked nervously up at him.  It occurred to her that she should have his permission before she grabbed his cock.

He smiled to reassure her, then his face was serious again as he said, “Take off your shirt.”

She did, showing him the pretty, pink push-up bra that matched her panties.  She couldn’t resist watching for his reaction, and was gratified to see his eyes heat in appreciation.  She felt suddenly powerful, on top of the world, even though she was on her knees and her pants were still bunched around her ankles.  She suddenly wished he had tied her hands.  She put them behind her back.  She smiled up at him, and he nodded solemnly.  She leaned forward and put her lips to the bulge in his pants.

They both moaned, and Marie felt her sense of power ratchet up another notch.  She was submitting to his will--and loving every second of it--but right now she was in charge.  She kissed him again, a little harder, right at the very top of the bulge and began working her way down, a kiss at a time, adding a little more pressure and lingering a little longer with each one.  When she reached the bottom she opened her mouth and tried to reach his balls with her tongue through the thick fabric of his pants, her open mouth pressed against the crotch, her breath gasping through her nose.

“Ahhh…Christ!” she heard him moan.  But even as she was savoring the effect she was having on him she felt her head being seized in his hands.  And before she knew what was happening he had shoved her face against the front of his pants and was rubbing it back and forth and up and down, grunting like an animal as he crudely rutted against her.

Marie was shocked for a brief moment.  Then she had an idea, and to her own amazement she managed to catch the tab of his zipper in her teeth as her mouth passed over his fly.  When he pushed her head back down, the loud unzipping sound made him freeze.  He looked at her and she released the zipper and gave him an impish grin. 

He looked so enthralled that Marie almost giggled.  She leaned forward again and carefully drew his zipper the rest of the way down, using only her teeth.  She pressed her face into the gap and reached out with her tongue again, his thin cotton boxers the only barrier now between her mouth and his cock.  She would have worked the button on his pants undone, too, but he made a sound of impatience and did it for her, pushing his boxers down at the same time and stepping out of his clothes. 

Marie gulped.  Now that she was faced with his cock, it looked huge.  Huge and… delicious.  She leaned toward it, as if mesmerized, and took him in her mouth.  As if from far away, a little voice in her head was trying to tell her that she was crazy, that this was a total stranger, that they were in the back room of a bookstore—but she resolutely pushed those thoughts away.  It felt so good to taste him, to please him, and she loved having his cock in her mouth.  What would he do next, she wondered vaguely.  Would he hold her down and fuck her hard, the way she was dying for him to?  The thought made her pussy throb.  She felt the wet spot in her panties growing and growing, and she went a little wild, sucking and licking him frantically, trying to swallow the whole length of him.

With a growl, he grabbed her arms and yanked her up and off her feet.  He sat her down, none too gently, on top of the table, so that her ass rested at the very edge.  He pushed against her shoulders and she obediently lay back.  He was in control again, she thought, and felt exhilarated.  Before she could bring her legs up to keep her balance, he was grabbing the waistband of her panties and yanking them off of her, finally divesting her of her pants at the same time, her flip flops having fallen off long before.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, a bit hoarsely.

Marie closed her eyes, shuddering with lust.  She bent her knees and brought her heels up to rest on the table on either side of her ass, aware that her pussy lips stretched apart a little with the extreme position, aware that he could see everything.  Yes…yes… her hips started to pump uncontrollably, and Marie knew that she was going to come.  Oh, God, she was so close…

A sharp pain brought Marie back to earth.  Her eyes flew open.  He had reached into her bra and was pinching one of her nipples hard, looking into her eyes.  His face was so close she gasped in surprise.

“You…do not come, unless I say you can,” he growled. 

He seized her bra in both hands and tore it apart, then yanked it from beneath her and threw it on the floor, leaving her completely naked.  He grabbed her braids again with one hand and began slapping her breasts with the other, just hard enough to make them tingle and burn.

“You…belong…to me—is that understood?” he went on.  “Your tits.” He slapped them again.  “Your mouth.”  He shoved three fingers so deeply into her mouth that she began to choke, and then just as quickly removed them.  “Your ass.”  He inserted his middle finger up her passage to the knuckle of his hand, making her scream with the shock of it.  “And your pussy,” he concluded, using his thumb to press down on her clitoris.

Marie cried out and writhed and groaned and whimpered nonsense as he went on tormenting her ruthlessly…wonderfully. 

“You…belong…to me!  You…are my property!”  He jerked her braids upward until her face was literally touching his, and his eyes burned into hers.  “Say it,” he told her.  And when she didn’t immediately respond he jerked her head back and forth by her braids.  “Say it!”

Marie was a little frightened by his intensity, but the thing was, she agreed with him.  At that moment she wanted nothing more than to be his, to have him continue to torture her so deliciously, to have him put his cock in her.  She’d do almost anything if only he’d fuck her.  “Yes!” she cried, her voice trembling with passion and a little bit of fear.  “Yes, I’m...yours.  I—I—” Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “I belong to you.”  She closed her eyes, feeling herself blush once again, wondering if he saw her pussy spasm as she said the words. 

He let go of her hair, and lowered her head back to rest on the table.  But he stayed leaning over her for a moment longer, standing between her spread legs, his face close to hers, and she opened her eyes and looked at him.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “You...your cock—it just makes me so horny.”  She thought she saw his lips twitch as if he were holding back a smile.  “It’s so hard to hold it back, Sir,” she finished, dropping her gaze.

As apologies went, it was pretty damn good, he thought.  He was secretly charmed.  He brushed his lips over her forehead, her closed eyelids, and murmured, for the second time, “Good girl.”

Again, Marie felt joy and relief wash over her at his words.  She thought she’d do anything, anytime, to hear him praise her like that.  The feeling was quickly replaced by trepidation, however, as he returned his attention to her pussy.  She was already burning and wet; how was she supposed to avoid climaxing under his skillful hands?  She’d never in her life attempted not to come when she was this horny—if she’d ever even been this horny.

The first thing he did was use both hands to pull her outer lips apart, and then just stood, looking.  Marie immediately felt herself coming close to the edge.  She moaned, loud and long, and thrashed her head from side to side.  He looked up.  “I haven’t even started yet,” he said.

Good Lord, he was teasing her!  Didn’t he know how hard she was trying to obey him?  Couldn’t he see how desperate she was?  For God’s sake, her pussy was practically dripping.  She whimpered.

“I can help you,” he said, “but it’s going to hurt.  Do you want that?”

She took a deep breath.  “I want...I want to please you,” she stammered, hoping that was the right answer.

He stood up and walked away from her without another word.  For Marie it was if he’d thrown a bucket of ice-water over her.  Had she given the wrong answer?  Was this how it would end—he was just going to leave her there?  She started to raise herself up on her elbows…

Just as he returned.  He saw what she was doing and without breaking his stride simply pointed a forefinger at her…and Marie collapsed back onto the table as if he had physically pushed her down.  She gasped with relief.

And then she gasped with pain, and then shrieked out loud as it suddenly doubled.  She tried instinctively to reach for the source of her agony—her breasts—but found her wrists pinned to the table under his hands.  She began to thrash wildly on the table as she looked down and saw the two large paper-clamps--the spring-driven, sharp-edged metal ones for thick bundles of paper—that he had attached to her nipples.  For a moment she panicked, afraid her nipples would be damaged irreparably, but then she looked at his face as he stared, fascinated, at the clips, and she calmed somewhat.  For some reason, she trusted him.  He must know what he’s doing, she thought.  And she realized how sexy she must look to him, writhing helplessly in pain.

Somehow she’d managed to keep her heels up on the table, maintaining her spread position.  When her wild struggling subsided, and she was just whimpering helplessly at the burning pain in her nipples, he released her wrists and stroked her wide-open thighs.  “You’re doing great,” he said soothingly, and Marie felt absurdly proud.  “Don’t move your hands,” he added.

The initial pain had lessened, and Marie thought she could stand it now.  He’d been right, though, about it taking her mind off of her pussy.  Her concentration was divided between her clamped nipples and her hungry pussy as he returned his attention to her crotch.

She was able to hold still as he stroked her outer lips, and even when he slid one long finger into her, though she panted and grunted with the effort to keep from humping it.  But then he used his other hand to pinch her clit, and her whole body jerked.  Crying out, she instinctively grabbed for his hand, trying to force him to release the horrible pressure on her sensitive bud, which was making intense sensations of pain and pleasure shoot through her body.  “I told you not to move your hands!” he snapped.  “Put them back—now.”  Sobbing, Marie obeyed, and felt him release her clit at last.

But then he started rubbing it, simultaneously sliding his finger in and out, and she arched her back.  It seemed now that the clips on her nipples were not distracting her, but only allowing her arousal to climb higher, the pain somehow blending with the crazy pleasure of his hands on her.  “Oh, please!” she wailed.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table then clawed at its surface as she tried desperately to obey his command to keep them still.  But it was so fucking hard when he was standing right there between her legs with his huge erection plainly visible as he stroked her to madness—and her entire being was overwhelmed with the desire to seize him by the shoulders and pull him down on top of her.

“Please!” she cried out again, knowing that she couldn’t hold out much longer without her entire body shaking itself to pieces.

He continued to work on her, but allowed a tiny hint of a smile to cross his features.  “Please…what?”

“Please…”  Oh god, she didn’t know!  Let me come…keep torturing me…make me beg some more!  “Please…”

And then it burst out of her, from a place of need so deep that it seemed her whole life had been building up to this moment.

“Fuck me, Sir!  …FUCK ME!”

He hooked his arms under her knees to push her legs back towards her chest then entered her with a single, powerful thrust.

That was all it took for Marie.  She screamed as her entire body tightened in rapture. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her toes curled and uncurled, her hands clawed at the table, and then she had no more breath to scream, but kept coming and coming as he fucked her violently, his cock touching her womb, his pelvis mashing her clit with each thrust.

He had never felt anything like it.  She was clamped down on him like a vise, her vagina clenching with relentless pressure as he plundered it.  Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to hold back his own orgasm, but he soon realized he couldn’t hold out and allowed himself to speed up, pistoning in and out like a jackhammer until finally he felt it begin.

He grabbed her throat in one hand and squeezed just enough to make her open her glazed eyes.  “Fuck, I’m coming in you!” he growled.  “You…are…MINE!”  As his cock began to spurt, he yanked the clips off of her nipples, and, unbelievably, the sudden pain as the blood rushed back to them sent her into a new series of spasms, prolonging his climax, until finally he collapsed on top of her.

When Marie came back to earth, his head was on her chest, nestled between her breasts.  His cock was still inside her, and her legs were wrapped around his back.  She ran her hands through his peppery hair, over his back, stroking.  She’d just had sex with a total stranger in the bookstore.  Not only that, she’d submitted to him, begged him to spank her, to fuck her, to let her come.  She smiled.

When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, she was still smiling in satisfaction.  Her eyes shone with adoration.  He smiled back, and they both savored the moment.  Then his smile faded and he said sternly, “You came without my permission.”

He abruptly stood up, his cock sliding out of her with an audible slurping sound.  He reached down to the floor and picked up her panties.  He used them to wipe off his cock, still glistening with their combined juices, then did the same for Marie’s pussy, roughly, as if wiping down a piece of furniture.

Then in the same brusque manner he proceeded to use her panties to wipe their juices all over Marie’s face.  Then he seized her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet, saying, “Don’t wash your face before tomorrow night.” 

He held up her panties.  “I’ll keep these in the cash register.  Every piece of change I hand out tomorrow is going to smell like your cunt.  Tomorrow at closing time you will meet me at the register.  You will apologize for coming without permission and then beg me to punish you.”

And with that he scooped up the rest of her clothes with one hand, seized her wrist with the other and dragged her out of the break room and down a short hallway to a door.

He jammed her clothes under his arm and pushed the door open.  Marie barely had time to register that it was an unlit alleyway that ran behind all the stores on that block before she was yanked in front of him and then shoved, stumbling, naked, out onto the cold asphalt.

He threw her clothes after her.  A moment later her backpack followed. Then without another word he slammed the door.

READING ALLOWED, Part 2

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

       The day was endless and agonizing for Marie.  She’d been tempted to stay in bed.  Surely, if she went to class and work and followed her normal routine, everyone who crossed her path would somehow be able to tell that she’d been a very, very naughty girl the night before.  Recalling her behavior made Marie groan and bury her head under the covers.

       There was no way she could blame anyone but herself—he’d made sure of that.  No, she had made the choice to stay behind in the store, to pull down her pants for him.  She had begged him—begged him! —to spank her, to fuck her.  She couldn’t help imagining how her mother, her grandparents, or her professors would react if they knew.  The thought made her physically cringe.  Why, she’d been shameless, a total slut.  She was supposed to be a nice girl, date some nice boy here, and eventually marry him.  She was a nice girl—but for as long as she could remember, there was this part of her, some deep, mysterious, primitive part of her, that had craved being dominated, being in someone’s power.  When she was very young, she hadn’t known that her fantasies of being tied up, held captive, or enslaved were sexual, just that they brought her pleasure.  Now she knew—but until last night she had only been able to guess just how thrilling it would be when one of her fantasies finally came true. 

       It had taken the bright light of morning to bring on her regrets.  Last night, after she’d hurriedly dressed in the dark alley behind the bookstore and driven back to campus, hyper-conscious of the fact that she wore no panties, Marie had flung herself on her bed and masturbated feverishly.  Recalling the whole evening in detail, what he’d said to her, what he’d done to her, she’d come three times before finally dropping into an exhausted sleep.

       At first, when he’d shoved her out the door without a single affectionate word, Marie had been hurt.  Is he really that eager for me to be gone?  But then she remembered how he’d praised her, how he’d told her she belonged to him, and how he was going to keep her panties with him all day, and she smiled.  And he wanted her to come back.

       Now, going through the motions of her ordinary routine, this was the question that tortured Marie: Was she going to go back, or wasn’t she?  She was tempted to hide in her room tonight, take a solemn vow never to set foot in the bookstore again.  He’d told her to ask to be punished.  What would he do, she wondered.  Would he spank her again?  Or would he think up something… worse?  She shuddered.

       But Marie’s body knew no hesitation.  Every time she thought about going back, her pussy would heat, her nipples start to tingle.  She was so horny she had to fight down the urge to blow off her afternoon classes in order to masturbate back in her room. 

       In the end, it was the thought of his reaction to her absence that decided Marie.  She pictured him, glancing at her panties throughout the day where they lay nestled in his cash register drawer; she pictured him thinking of her.  He expected her.  She imagined his disappointment and anger if she didn’t show up.  No, she wouldn’t disappoint him like that.

       But Marie also decided she had to talk to him.  He had seemed so wise, and he had seemed, somehow, to know the very core of her.  Maybe if she told him about her conflicting feelings, her confusion over her own behavior, he’d be able to reassure her.  She just couldn’t spend another day torturing herself like this.  She needed some answers.

           Somehow she managed to make herself wait until just before closing time before driving back to the bookstore.  She spent the time pacing back and forth in her room, trying not to think about the events of the night before or imagine what might happen when she went back.  Because she knew that if she did she’d be unable to resist the urge to masturbate.  And even though she had done so the previous night she somehow knew that he would disapprove if she did so now.

           And that nagged at her too.  How could he possibly know whether she had masturbated or not—and why should she care if he approved or not?

            But he would…and she did.

           She agonized over what to wear.  Should she dress the same way as yesterday?  Should she wear something girly and feminine?  Something slutty?  And why did she want so desperately to please this man she hardly knew?

       In the end, Marie obeyed her strongest instinct and went for “cute.”  She was hardly a femme fatale, after all.  When she stepped out of her car in the bookstore parking lot, she had on a short, fluttery skirt, a pale pink top, and sandals with a low heel.  She’d left her straight blonde hair down and wore minimal makeup.  Her bra and panties were both white, and the panties had a little pink bow on the waistband in front.  She’d always meant to cut it off and had never gotten around to it.  Now, she was hoping her intuition was correct and that he’d like it.

       It was late when the bookstore closed, and long past dark outside.  But he saw her from the windows when she crossed through the bright pool from a streetlight in the parking lot.  She was walking somewhat stiffly, as if propelling herself forward out of sheer determination, and hugging her purse to her chest with crossed arms.

       He allowed himself to feel a measure of relief.  He’d known he hadn’t been wrong about her, but if she hadn’t shown up, it would have meant she wasn’t ready.  He thought of the wisp of pink lace buried in his cash drawer.  Yes, that would have been a shame.

       Then she was there, standing quietly across from the checkout counter, waiting for him to finish with the last couple of customers.  Their eyes met once, and she gave him a trembling little smile which he thought was adorable.  He didn’t smile back, and after that she waited with her eyes on the floor.

       She kept her gaze lowered, still hugging herself nervously, as he went through the routine of closing the store.  No one seemed to have noticed that she had stayed behind as he locked the doors.    When he had finished the close, he walked past her, and without saying a word, headed for the staff room at the back of the store.  He’d stashed some supplies from home in there early this morning, and now he retrieved them, started arranging them neatly on the long folding table where they’d fucked last night.

       A minute or two later, she appeared in the doorway, and he watched her eyes go straight to the stuff on the table.  They widened as she took in the sight of the handcuffs, several different lengths of rope, nipple clamps connected by a short chain, three different types of gags, a leather belt, and thin, menacing wooden paddle.  She stared, transfixed, until finally he got impatient and snapped, “Look at me.”

       When she did, dragging her eyes reluctantly away from the fascinating and forbidding array of toys, he said, “Come here.”

       He mentally held his breath.  This second encounter was crucial, and he wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t going to flee at any moment.  She wanted it, yes—he could see the temptation and longing in her eyes when she looked at his supplies.  But all her reactions last night had been those of a woman experiencing BDSM for the first time, and she’d had twenty-four hours to convince herself that she’d done something sinful and dirty.  In all probability, they were going to have to have a serious talk.  But first he wanted to test her.  If she submitted to him now, while she was still plagued by uncertainty, it would bode well for the future.

       

       Marie hesitantly came forward.  She was trembling.  At the sight of the stuff on the table, she’d felt a surge of excitement and arousal that had gone straight to her pussy.  She wanted so badly to let him use that stuff on her… but she was confused, and a little scared.  What if it was more than she could handle?  Wasn’t she crazy to even think about letting a total stranger tie her up?  Her heart pounded.

       When she stopped a few feet from him, he said, “Now, don’t you have something you want to ask me?”

       Marie’s mind raced.  She had never worked out how to bring up the subject of her doubts about last night, about what she was doing back here again.  Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure she wanted to interrupt this fascinating game they were playing—if it was a game.  She wasn’t sure about that either.  Just play along for now, she decided finally.  If it gets to be too much, then you can make him stop.  At least, she hoped she could make him stop—she was relying heavily on that instinct that told her she could trust him.

       She tried to look into his eyes, but her gaze slid away as she said haltingly, “Please—please punish me.”

       “Punish you?  For what?”

       Blushing furiously, Marie stammered, “For—for coming… without your permission.”

       He took two steps forward, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look at him.  “And why can’t you come without my permission…princess?” he asked softly.  He released her chin and was pleased to see that she kept her eyes on his a little longer this time before they dropped to the floor.

       Distracted by the name he’d called her, Marie cast about in her mind for the right answer.  He had called her princess—and suddenly all the things he had made her read out loud the previous night, all the images of that princess’s humiliation, came rushing into her mind and stopped her breath.  Her arousal began to soar as the answer to his question became obvious.

            “Because—because—I’m your property,” she finally managed, her voice subsiding to a strangled whisper.  Her pussy heated, and she felt her nipples harden as she said it.

       She looked so vulnerable, standing there with her face flaming and her body trembling, and he could hardly wait to get his hands on her.  But he wasn’t quite through toying with her.  What else could he make her do for him? 

       He took her purse from her and tossed it onto the table behind her, then turned back to her and said.  “Show me your panties.”

       Marie almost moaned out loud.  God, she just loved the sound of his voice when he gave an order like that.  Her hands went to the hem of her skirt and she raised it slowly to her waist, letting him see her white panties with their little bow.

       “Lift it higher.”

       Marie obeyed, bunching the fabric in her hands and lifting it high out of the way, baring her legs and ass.  She suddenly wished her breasts were naked, too.  They felt swollen and confined in her shirt, her nipples tingling.

       “Turn around.”  She turned her back to him, letting him look his fill at her pert, panty-covered bottom.  “Now bend over.”

       This time Marie did moan.  She bent at the waist, hyper-aware suddenly of the way her panties stretched over her cheeks.  She had the urge to spread her legs, to make the fabric even tighter.  She shuffled her feet a little further apart.  She thought maybe he would touch her, thought all at once that she might die if he didn’t touch her, but before she could moan again he was saying, “Stand up and turn around.”

       She did, and he noticed she was panting slightly.  Her face was still flushed and her pupils were dilated.  “Those are very nice panties, princess,” he said, and watched her close her eyes, take a deep breath, then open them again.  “Did you wear them just for me?”

       “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, without hesitation, and he was pleased that she was sinking deeper into her role.  But then, abruptly, she gasped, and her whole body went rigid.  She clapped her hand to her mouth, a gesture he remembered from the night before. 

       Marie felt her stomach sink as it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t obeyed all his orders.  When he complimented her panties, it had come back to her…  After she got out of bed this morning, she’d taken a shower and automatically washed her face, as she did every morning.  She had completely forgotten that he’d told her not to!  “I washed my face!” she blurted out, confessing before she could stop herself.  She saw him raise his eyebrows and looked away, wondering that she felt so ashamed of herself.  “I just did it without thinking,” she added miserably.

       He’d been momentarily nonplussed by the outburst, but he hoped he hadn’t shown it.  Now, as she stood there obviously waiting for him to rain condemnation down on her, he just said mildly, “Did I tell you could drop your skirt?”

       She blanched visibly and groped for her hem, hastily yanking her skirt back up to her waist.  He couldn’t help smiling.  It was very gratifying to have her at such a disadvantage.  “You’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you?”

           Ohhhhh…  Marie felt a sudden spasm in her pussy at his words, followed by a moment of sheer terror as she felt herself teetering on the edge of orgasm.  She bit her lip, hard, as she began to hyperventilate.  Oh, God, if she came now, without his permission…

           “Look at me!”  His voice was a lash and Marie forced herself to meet his glance.  Having to look into his eyes, to see him watching her while she fought down her orgasm, knowing that he knew exactly what was happening to her made it so much more difficult…oh, God, impossible!  She was losing control, she was going to…  NO!

       She fell to her knees.  She threw her arms around his legs and hugged herself to them.  Then she burst into tears.

       “I’m…I’m so sorry, Sir!” she sobbed, her voice muffled against him.  “I’m a ve-very b-b-bad little girl…S-Sir!” 

She felt the orgasm retreating as she spoke and almost fainted with relief.  She continued to cry for a moment, her chest heaving, then made herself look up at him.  With tears still streaming down her face she begged,  “Please…  Please p-punish me, Sir!”

       He stared down at her, his face expressionless, for a long moment, and Marie was sure he was going to order her to leave and never return, which only increased her sobbing.  But she held his glance and waited.  And when he finally spoke his voice was warm and even held a touch of humor.

       “Well, for starters you can lick your snot off my pants.”

       Marie was so relieved she felt weak.  He wasn’t disgusted with her.  A little bemused, maybe, but he wasn’t going to kick her out of the store.  Well, she was bemused by her own behavior, too.  What possessed her to grovel at his feet like this, crying like a little girl?  She should be worried about it, but the truth was, Marie felt better now than she had all day.  Maybe she just needed an emotional release.  Maybe he wouldn’t reduce her to a sobbing wreck the next time they met.

       But for now she had to figure out if he was serious about licking her own snot.  She peeked up at him.  He certainly looked serious.  Well, she was in enough trouble already, she thought.  She should at least try… Gingerly, she stuck out her tongue and leaned towards the big wet stain near the knee of his jeans. 

       She looked so disgusted when her tongue made contact, her eyes squeezed shut and her nose wrinkled, that he was hard pressed not to laugh.  Like Marie, he was also feeling relieved.  It was obvious that something in her had snapped, allowing her to transcend her inhibitions in his presence.  And now, bless her heart, she was valiantly trying to clean up the mess she’d made crying all over him.  He was pleased.  But he wasn’t about to go easy on her.

       “Get up,” he ordered, and again had to fight off a smile as she stood, then belatedly remembered to hold up her skirt, grappling with the hem and glancing at him with trepidation.  He was going to have to make her do something sexy right away, because if she kept being cute, he was going to start grinning and that would ruin the mood.

       He began unfastening his belt.

       Marie stared, fascinated.  She felt a little foolish and very vulnerable standing there holding up her skirt, especially since she could tell without even looking that the crotch of her panties was visibly wet.  And what was he going to do now?  Unfastening his belt could mean any number of things—was he going to fuck her?  Whip her?

       She watched the thin black leather sliding out from his belt loops.  Watched him double the belt in his hands and flex it a couple of times.  She waited to be told to bend over, her breath beginning to accelerate again.

          She was mystified at first when he slid the end of the belt through its buckle again and pulled the belt into a small loop.  But then he seized her wrists and brought them together in one of his hands so that she had to drop her skirt.  With a quick, dexterous move he slipped the loop over her hands and tightened it around her wrists, binding them tightly together.

       He quickly looped the belt around her wrists a couple of more times then threaded the end through the entire loop and pulled it out to its full length.  Marie’s attention darted back and forth between what he was doing and the intense, focused expression on his face.  If she hadn’t felt like his property before she certainly did now.  Oh, God, what was he going to do to her?

       She found out immediately, as he used the end of the belt to jerk her arms up over her head then dragged her over to a set of metal bookshelves bolted to one side of the hallway.  They reached all the way to the ceiling and were filled with haphazardly stacked books and a few cartons.  He spun her around and pressed her back against the shelves, then pulled up on the belt that tied her wrists until she was forced to stand on her toes, gasping.  Only then did he loop the end of the belt around one of the supports and tie it off.

       When he was satisfied that his knot would hold he stood back to admire his handiwork.  Marie watched his gaze travel slowly from her wrists to her face—she didn’t dare speak—and linger momentarily on her breasts before continuing on down to where she was practically dancing on her toes.  The backs of her sandals were flopping in mid-air and he bent down on one knee to remove them, placing them to one side.

          He stood again, his face close to hers now.  He studied her closely for a moment, his eyes intent.  Then he said, “I thought I told you to hold up your skirt.”

       He was so deadpan in his delivery that for a moment Marie thought he was serious.  But then she saw the glint in his eyes and had to repress a smile.  “Sorry, Sir,” was all she trusted herself to say.

           He made little tsking noises as he raised the front of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband.  Then he made her gasp again by thrusting his hand between her legs and roughly fondling her there for a moment, his eyes on hers the entire time.  Then he withdrew his hand saying, “Your panties are wet.  Are they wet for me?”

       “Yesssssss….  Yes, Sir.  My panties are wet for you, Sir,” Marie managed to say, in a cross between a whisper and a groan.

       He walked away.  This time, though, Marie knew he would return, and he did.  He stopped in front of her. 

“Have you ever seen these before?”  He held up the short chain with the nipple clamps at either end.

       She hadn’t, but she could guess what they were for.  She recalled the pain of the binder clips on her nipples the night before and shivered.  “No, Sir,” she whispered.

       “What do you think they’re for, princess?” he murmured, his face very close to hers.

       “They’re so you can—can—cla—” she began, but her voice dried up under the heat of his intense gaze.  Her nipples throbbed as if they knew they were under discussion.  She squirmed in her bondage, instinctively trying to cover her breasts, soothe the ache in them with her hands.

       “I suggest you finish that thought,” he was saying, quietly, silkily, “or you’ll wear these for twice as long.”  He opened one of the clamps and let it spring shut, demonstrating the force of its rubber-covered jaws.  He reached for her shirt and started to pull it up.

       “They’re so you can clamp my—my nipples!” Marie finally cried out.  He paused to look into her eyes, the wicked gleam back in his own as he said, “Exactly.”

       As he was pushing her shirt, then her bra, up above her breasts, Marie was thinking how diabolically clever of him it was to force her to narrate this experience, to make her beg for everything he did to her.  She was allowed no chance to escape into sensation.  How easy it would be to get drunk on her arousal, on the very idea that this was her deepest, truest fantasy coming to life.  How easy to be innocently swept away by lust, to not think about exactly what she was doing.  But he wouldn’t let her.  He was forcing her to be totally present in this moment, forcing her to feel everything—the lust, but also the uncertainty and the fear and the shame, all of it swirling together to make her feel so intensely alive, making her body tremble…

       Her thoughts evaporated as he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

       She moaned, and her back arched of its own accord as he held her nipple between his lips and teased it with the tip of his tongue.  But he continued just long enough to bring it fully erect then withdrew, leaving her gasping for a moment before he turned his attention to her other nipple.

       Oh, she wanted to cradle his head with her hands, run her fingers through his hair, press herself more deeply into his mouth.  But she was completely helpless.

       It was wonderful.

       She tried to watch him as he teased her with his lips and tongue, knowing that he wanted her fully present for him at all times, but as she became more aroused she was unable to stop her eyes from closing as she began to drift off into a world of pure sensation…

       “UHH!” she cried out, as a shock of pain traveled from one nipple straight down to her loins.  Her eyes flew open and she looked down just in time to see him attaching the second clamp to the nipple he had just been teasing.  The shock repeated itself but this time Marie was more prepared and managed to confine her reaction to a small grunt.  It wasn’t nearly as bad as the binder clips he had used on her last night, she thought…

       …Until he seized the chain between the clips with his hand and began lifting it straight up, slowly.  Her nipples and then her breasts began to stretch, and then burn with pain, and she began to dance on the very tips of her toes in an attempt to lessen the intensity.  She whimpered with the pain.  Her eyes began to water and she stared beseechingly into his eyes, but his expression was merciless.

       He put his face against hers. “Pay…ATTENTION!” he whispered harshly.

       Without moving his face or releasing the chain he shoved a knee between her legs and kicked her feet apart, causing her heels to sink to the floor and the pressure on her nipples to increase to a level of pure agony.

       Then with his free hand he began to spank her pussy.

       He wasn’t hitting her hard, and when Marie cried out it was with surprise.  Her body jerked with his first slap and the movement increased the pain in her nipples.  She did her best to hold still, even though her nipples were on fire, even though tears ran down her face… but the spanks between her legs were coming regularly, rhythmically, and she suddenly found herself wishing he would spank her harder.  Her pussy felt swollen and hungry, and she found herself torn between the two sensations, the sharp ache in her breasts and the dull, pulsing ache between her legs.  The tension was unbearable.  Her eyes had been squeezed closed, but now she opened them to look at him and gasped out, “Oh, please… I’ll pay attention, I promise, Sir!  Please let go—it hurts!”

       His hand kept spanking her, a little harder now, his words coming in rhythm with the blows.  “Tell me what a bad girl you are.”

       She hesitated, and he suddenly gave the nipple clamps a hard yank.  She squealed and shook her head desperately, but she cried, “I’m—I’ve been a very bad girl, Sir!”  Her voice broke.  “Please—please punish me!”  God, she’d beg him all day as long as he’d keep spanking her like that, giving her clit what it wanted…

       But he stopped.  Instead, his hand cupped her through her damp panties, his fingers pressing, stroking, but avoiding the one place she most needed his touch.  He let go of the nipple clamps, but didn’t remove them.  Marie was on her toes immediately, shamelessly trying to arch her hips and press her crotch against his hand.  He deftly avoided her, whisking his hand away.  He leaned in close, lightly brushing her ear with his lips as he murmured, “Oh, I intend to punish you, princess.  I intend to punish you very well.” 

He ran his hands lightly over her body, unable to resist giving the clamps a little twist, making her flinch.  When he reached her hips he snagged the waistband of her panties and jerked them quickly down and over her feet.  As she stood there, stretched and unable to resist, he pried open her jaw with his thumb and shoved them deep into her mouth.  “Don’t you dare spit them out,” he warned, then walked away without another word.

Marie was confused.  He promised to punish her—so spanking her pussy, putting clamps on her nipples, and gagging her with her own panties, wet with her arousal, wasn’t punishment?  The nipple clamps had sure felt like punishment.  She looked down at her breasts, at the angry purple color of her nipples as they were crushed securely in the clamps.

Or maybe this was the punishment, being left here to suffer in frustrated arousal, the desire he had so cruelly and efficiently roused to a fever pitch.  Marie thought to her shame that at this moment she would probably hump anything that came near her crotch.  Her nipples seemed to have gone numb and she even wished for that pain to return, just to have some kind of sensation.

       No, Marie thought as the long minutes passed and he did not return, this is the punishment.  Being left here, alone and exposed, defenseless—it was horrible.  She couldn’t help picturing what she must look like with her shirt and bra pushed up over her breasts, her nipples clamped, her pussy naked and a wad of panties poking out of her mouth.  Oh, God, if someone from school were to see her like this…  She shuddered.  It didn’t bear thinking of.

       It was getting cold in the hallway.  Marie’s mouth was dry from the gag and goose bumps rose on her skin.  She felt tears prick her eyes.  Why didn’t he come back?  Didn’t he know she’d do anything he wanted, as long as he didn’t leave her alone here any longer?

         She quieted her breathing as much as she could and strained to listen, hoping desperately to hear the sound of his returning footsteps. 

Nothing.

       She was cold now, and her calves and shoulders ached terribly.  Suddenly she heard, through the wall, a barely audible sound.  The cash register opening, she thought.  But he had already closed out the register, why would he… 

Suddenly she smiled, as or came as close to smiling as she could with her mouth stuffed with her panties.  Her panties!  The pink ones he had taken from her last night!  He was going to bring them back here…to do what, she wondered.  But she didn’t care what as long as he came back to her.

She heard the register drawer close, and suddenly she wished she had her hands free just long enough to straighten her hair and maybe somehow straighten her clothing without actually changing the way it was.  She wanted desperately to please him, to be as pretty for him as she possibly could under the circumstances.

There!  The employees’ door, opening!  His footsteps coming nearer!  Marie felt suddenly, blissfully happy, as if he had been away for weeks instead of a few minutes. Her…her Master!   Yes, her Master was coming back to her!

And yes, there he was, walking towards her, carrying her pink panties in one hand and in the other a large shopping bag with the bookstore’s name printed on it.  Again Marie tried to smile as he approached…

But he passed her by without a glance.

Marie sagged in place.  She heard him throwing things into the bag—the ropes and paddles and other things he’d brought, she realized. 

And then he was there, facing her.  He dropped the bag to the floor beside her then reached up and, still not paying the slightest attention to her, unfastened the end of the belt from the bookshelf and let her drop onto her heels.

Her knees were so weak that she almost collapsed and had to lean back against the bookshelves for support.  Her shoulders screamed in agony as she lowered her arms in front of her. 

He quickly loosened and removed the belt from her wrists and held it in his hand.  He bent her forward and pulled her shirt and bra over her head and tossed them on the floor. 

He stood her upright again then unfastened her skirt and allowed it to drop around her ankles.  He took her by the shoulders and pulled her forward so that she had to step out of her skirt, naked now but for the chain and clips she wore on her breasts.

He pushed her down to her knees and then onto all fours. He pulled her pink panties out of the bag and fitted them over her face so that the crotch covered her nose and she was looking out through the leg-holes--the other panties, bulging from her mouth, keeping her nose free for breathing.  Though what she was able to breath was mostly the funk of their stale juices from the night before.

He looped the belt in his hands once more then placed it over her head and around her neck, pulling it snug.

He picked up the bag with his free hand.  “Come on,” he said gruffly, then pulled on the end of the belt and led her down the hall.  Marie crawled after him as fast as her aching limbs would allow.  He led her to the same door he had pushed her out of the night before and opened it.  He switched off the lights.

Then he led her outside to the alley. 

He paused long enough to close the door behind them and make sure it was locked, then led her down the alley, her hands and knees scraping and painful on the rough asphalt, until they reached the sidewalk.

Without hesitation he turned to the right and continued along the street.

Marie glanced frantically around her.  Oh god, she was being led down a public sidewalk on her hands and knees, naked except for the chain on her breasts and the panties over her face!  There was no one around, thank God—it was late and this was a small connecting street with little traffic even during the day, but still!  Someone could drive by, or be taking a late-night stroll, or who knows what? 

This was too much--she had to beg him to stop, to take her back to the store and return her clothes, even if it meant he never wanted to see her again.  It was one thing to be his slave in private—she would gladly submit to any humiliation he could think of as long as they were alone—but she couldn’t….

He stopped, so suddenly that she nearly ran into him from behind.  He put down the bag and fumbled in his pocket for a moment before coming up with a set of keys with an electronic beeper attached.  He pointed the beeper at a van parked at the curb in front of them and Marie heard the doors unlock. 

He dropped her leash and opened the passenger-side door.  “Get in,” he said, then picked up the bag, walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door and climbed in. pulling the door shut behind him.  He threw the bag onto the rear seat, then turned and looked at her expectantly.

Marie hesitated only an instant before scrambling up onto the seat beside him and closing her door.  Anything was better than being left out on the sidewalk as she was.

“Sit up straight.  Hands behind your head.”

Marie complied as he started the van and drove off.  She glanced over at him several times, wishing he would speak to her, if only to tell her where they were going.  But after a few minutes it became apparent:  He was heading downtown.

       

       Every streetlight made Marie cringe.  It took all her willpower not to scrunch down in the seat, but she held her position, sitting up straight with her hands behind her head.  She was trembling.  She looked at him beseechingly, pleading with her eyes, but he kept his eyes on the road.

       They stopped at a red light.  He turned to her and said, “Spread your legs.”

       The words sent a pulsing, hot rush of lust straight to Marie’s pussy, making it throb.  She gave a little sob as she obeyed, terrified by this exposure but helpless to defy his voice, his evocative commands.

       “Wider.”

       Whimpering, Marie parted her legs as far as she could, so that her right knee pressed up against the passenger door and her left knee against the center console.  Her pussy gaped slightly, the moisture there gleaming in the dim light. 

The light turned green.  As he accelerated, he slid his right hand gently up her thigh, murmuring, “You look very sexy right now, princess.”

       Marie wished she could say thank you.  He’d barely acknowledged her since he’d left her tied up in the hallway in the bookstore, and she’d been gradually losing her courage.  He seemed to know just when she needed reassurance.  She felt a little better now about sitting here like this, her breasts, with their clamped nipples, thrust forward, her legs spread obscenely wide—but she was still deathly afraid of being seen.  They passed a few cars going the opposite direction, and while Marie tried to tell herself the glare from the van’s headlights would prevent the other drivers from seeing her, her body shook with the effort to hold still.

       He must have noticed her flinching, for he suddenly reached over and yanked the panties further down over her face, covering her eyes with the seat of the fabric. 

       This time she didn’t know whether to be thankful or not.  She couldn’t see a thing, and for a moment it made her anxiety worse, but after a minute or two she was able to relax slightly, telling herself that the panties, at least, would keep anyone from recognizing her.  She imagined her Master studying her exposed body, her body that he had positioned this way.  He thinks you’re sexy like this, she reminded herself…and she was able to focus on her arousal instead of her fear.  She didn’t dare let herself imagine where they were going, or what would happen when they got there.

       She felt his hand slide up from her thigh and onto her stomach, where he began to massage her in slow, comforting circles while he continued to drive.  The sweetness of it, the tenderness, made her want to weep with relief.  Mmmmm….  She felt the tension begin to drain away and she sat up straighter, the better to lean into the warmth of his hand.  And when he said softly, “You’re doing very well,” the happiness that welled up inside her made her feel like melting right off her seat and onto the floor.

       He began using the back of his hand to caress the underside of her breasts and she shivered with pleasure.  Her nipples, which had long since gone numb, began to tingle painfully.  He encircled her left breast with his hand and began squeezing it in a slow, gentle rhythm, teasing her with the tips of his fingers.  She moaned aloud.

       She heard the window next to her beginning to lower, felt the cool air rush over her naked skin, giving her goosebumps.  The van began to slow.

       “Put your head out the window, princess.”  Marie immediately leaned over and did as instructed, feeling the wind press the fabric of her panties against her face.  He had kept his hand on her breast, however, and now began massaging it more deeply.  “Let everyone hear how much you’re enjoying this.”

       Everyone? The word conjured images of crowds of curious onlookers, driving on all sides of them, straining to hear her helpless moans.  Marie firmly suppressed her imagination.  She knew there was probably no one near enough to hear her; this was just his way of further exposing her, testing her submission, and delighting in his mastery over her. 

But it made no difference whether the streets were empty or thronging with people—he had told her to do something and she would do it.  She began moaning out loud, as loud as the panties in her mouth would allow, in rhythm with the motion of his hand on her breast and the waves of pleasure that were rippling through her.

       He’d said she was enjoying this.  Even as his hand reached for her other breast, his comment distracted Marie for a moment.  She thought about it, her mind racing.  The pain of the nipple clamps when he jerked the chain, the hurt she felt when he ignored her or treated her roughly, the humiliation of being leashed and naked in public—all of that was very real.  But there was no denying that these same things made her pussy wet, made her deliriously horny, more wildly aroused than she’d ever been.  And then when he praised her, or told her she was sexy, or even just smiled at her, she felt such blind, irrational joy, and so strangely fulfilled.  No, she didn’t enjoy it, Marie thought, it was more like a need.

       Her thoughts fled as his hand slid down to cup her pussy.

       Marie’s whole body went rigid; her head whipped back into the car and her hips rose.  “Yes, please!” she cried, forgetting about the gag, and the words came out muffled and garbled.  She heard him laugh and flushed with humiliation.  She was acting like a sex-crazed maniac.  She forced herself to hold still, but he only gave her pussy a light squeeze and took his hand away.  She heard his signal click on, felt the car turning, and then they were slowing, and then stopping.  There was a rustling sound as he rifled through the bag he’d brought with them.  “Don’t move,” he said.

       She heard his door open and close, and for a heart-stopping moment was afraid he was going to leave here there.  She fought down panic, knowing that if he left her in the van, alone and blindfolded, she’d never be able to hold her position…

       …But he was still there, opening her door, and Marie felt weak with relief.  “Hands behind your back,” he said, and she obeyed.  He pulled the panties on her head back and off, pulled the damp wad of white panties out of her mouth and dropped them to the floor of the van.  Marie’s hair fell over her eyes and without thinking she reached up to smooth it.

       He immediately grabbed the chain between her breasts and twisted it, bringing her numb nipples painfully back to life.  She gasped and her eyes filled, but she understood and put her hand behind her back again.

       He fixed her hair himself, running his fingers through it, then arranging it over her shoulders.  He leaned back and looked critically at her, as if assessing his handiwork.  It made Marie feel objectified, like she was his toy, his plaything.  She loved it.

       Finally he looked her in the eyes.  Hers were wide with apprehension and a bit teary.  “No talking unless I give you permission,” he said sternly.  “Understand?”

       “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, and he smiled and said, “Good girl.”  Marie’s heart soared.

       He stepped back and gestured for her to get out of the car.  When she did, stepping carefully down onto the pavement, he pushed her in front of him and grabbed her wrists, gripping them together in the small of her back with one of his hands.  A second later she felt cold steel encircling her wrists.  The handcuffs, she thought.  That’s what he got out of the bag.  Now her hands were cuffed behind her back, palms out.  The cuffs were tight, she realized, too tight for her even to think of sliding her hands through them, but not painful.

       While he was cuffing her Marie had a moment to look around.  They were nowhere she recognized—a small parking lot in an alleyway, behind a row of buildings, it appeared.  Suddenly she recalled her nudity, and all her fear came rushing back.  Her heart pounded as he came back in front of her and grabbed the end of the belt that was still hanging loosely around her neck.  The leash!  She’d forgotten she had it on.  Leashed, with her hands cuffed securely behind her back, she’d have no choice but to follow him anywhere he chose to take her, Marie realized.  The thought made her knees weak and her pussy flood with heat.

       It was like one of those intense dreams where she knew she was asleep but couldn’t make herself wake up.  Two days ago she’d been a normal girl, albeit one with more than slightly kinky fantasies.  And now she was naked and handcuffed in a parking lot, with nothing to identify her and no idea where she was--completely in the power of this man who was leading her along by means of a belt around her neck.  She had to be crazy, she thought as she stumbled along behind him, watching carefully for broken glass or worse on the ground.  She didn’t know this man; he could be taking her somewhere to murder her or sell her into slavery or allow her to be gang-raped.

       Then she smiled.  Liar, she said to herself.  You do know this man—and he knows you, better than you know yourself.  Looking at his strong fingers wrapped confidently around the makeshift leash, she realized suddenly that she no longer felt any fear.  She was his and he would take care of her.

       They were approaching the row of buildings.  He stopped and knocked on a non-descript metal door which might have been painted red a long time ago but now seemed vaguely brown in the dim light from the parking lot.  Looking over his shoulder, Marie saw that someone had scrawled the word “Erothèque” on the door in large, uneven block letters with a black marker.

       After a moment the door opened and Marie heard him say, “Hi Theo, thanks for waiting.  You go ahead, I’ll lock up.”  Marie cringed behind him for a moment, thinking she was about to be displayed to a total stranger.  But there was no one there when he led her inside.

       They were in a dimly-lit hallway.  Marie noticed a vaguely familiar, rubbery smell.  He dropped her leash and pushed her gently in front of him.  She heard the heavy door to the alley closing loudly behind them, and then his warm hand was on her back, nudging her forward down the hallway, to the left, and out into the store.

       For that is where they were—a sex shop, Marie realized.  She’d been in a couple of stores like this before, with girlfriends, when they were in a silly mood and felt like doing something risqué, so she wasn’t shocked by the sight of the wall of dildos and penis pumps.  However, as she looked around, it became obvious that this wasn’t an ordinary sex shop.  Half the store seemed to be devoted to bondage and punishment devices.  Marie’s heart beat faster as she quickly took in the racks of paddles and whips, ropes and leather straps, and several mysterious pieces of furniture, some with signs on them that said “Try me.”  All the lights were on in the windowless shop, but there seemed to be no one else present.

       Marie became aware of him standing behind her.  She could practically feel his eyes on her ass.  All at once she felt more naked than she had in the car or in the parking lot.  Nervously she turned to face him, and was taken aback by the hot intensity of his gaze.  He looked like he wanted to ravish her on the spot.  He stepped closer and closed his fingers on her jaw, tilting her face up and running his eyes over it as if to memorize it.  “I was going to wait to bring you here,” he murmured, and his voice had a wry tone to it.  His hand moved to the back of her neck, up against her scalp, and he clutched a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat.  He went on, “But I find I just can’t wait to possess you, sweet princess.”  Marie wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but this was the first time he’d revealed any of his feelings to her.  She wanted to consider the meaning of his words, but her thoughts fled as he kissed her for the first time.  It wasn’t a gentle kiss, and as he plundered her mouth Marie was very conscious of her nakedness, his firm grip on her hair, and her bound hands, glorying in his power over her. 

When he broke the kiss she was shaken and gasping.  Her mouth felt bruised.  Words seemed to bubble up in her; she was dying to tell him how good he made her feel, how much she wanted him, but when she opened her mouth to speak she suddenly remembered he’d forbidden it.  She snapped her mouth shut and hurriedly looked at his face to see if he’d noticed her close call.  He definitely had—he was smiling that ironic smile of his, and he said, “Good girl.”  The smile faded as he added, “On your knees.”

The stern tone sent a little shiver through Marie.  How can his voice sound so tender some of the time and so commanding the rest of the time? Marie wondered as she tried to gracefully sink to her knees.  She bent her legs as low as she could, then leaned forward slowly, but she still landed jarringly on her knees on the thinly carpeted floor, and wobbled a bit, almost tipping over.  “You’ll get better at that,” he said, sounding amused, and her face turned red.

He leaned back against the doorway they’d just come through and studied her for a moment as she knelt at his feet, leaning back on her heels, her eyes demurely lowered.  “Now,” he said firmly, “you can ask me three questions.”

Marie was startled and her eyes flew to his face for a moment, to see if he was serious.  He looked like he meant it.  Her mind raced.  She remembered how she’d come to the bookstore tonight intending to talk to him about what they were doing, about what it was doing to her, but somehow that resolution had gotten lost in the heady excitement of being with him.  Now that he’d given her permission to talk about it, though, all her burning questions came urgently back.  She considered for a moment, then quietly asked, “Why do I like this?”

She fell silent, and when he didn’t answer right away uncertainty welled up inside her, uncertainty and the sense of shame she’d been suppressing all evening.   Suddenly she leaned so far forward that she nearly fell over as the question burst out of her again, almost as a sob, “Why do I like it…oh god, so fucking much?”

Tears sprang to her eyes and her mouth fell open as she began to sob in earnest, staring up at him, begging him to answer.  To her shock she saw a look of confusion, or doubt, cross his features.  Then, in a moment Marie knew she would remember for the rest of her life, he fell to his knees in front of her and took her by the shoulders.  He looked deeply into her eyes for a long moment and Marie saw there a depth of tenderness she would never have imagined possible. 

He reached up and gently brushed her tears away with his thumbs, shaking his head slowly as he said, “I don’t know, princess. I don't know why you're like you are or I'm like I am.”  He combed her hair back with his fingers then leaned forward and kissed her for the second time--a warm, comforting kiss that continued as he pulled her into an embrace.  When he pulled away there was a twinkle in his eye as he added, “But aren’t you glad we are?”

Marie sobbed again, but this time with relief, and she smiled at him through her tears.  “Y-yes, Sir, I am.”  Her lips trembled a little as she added, “I’m glad I’m yours, Sir.  Thank you.”

He smiled back at her as he thumbed away her tears again.  “That’s right, you’re mine, princess,” he said softly.  “So I think you deserve something nicer than this.”  He loosened his belt from around her neck and lifted it over her head. Then he dug the handcuffs key from his pocket, reached behind her and expertly unlocked them, sliding them into his back pocket.  He pulled her gently forward onto her hands and knees, then stood and walked past her and down one of the aisles, calling “Come over here,” over his shoulder.

Marie understood that she was supposed to crawl and started after him, keeping her head up so she could see where he went.  He had managed to bring her closer to accepting her sexual desires and where they were leading her, and calmed her turbulent feelings to a great extent.  But now she had new things to wonder about.  He didn’t have to take the time to reassure her.  He must have known she’d go along with him, obey him, anyway the way she had up to now.  And then there was the way he’d looked at her and held her, so gently, and knelt with her, rescinding some of his dominance—what did it mean?  They’d known each other for just over 24 hours, even though it sometimes seemed he knew her intimately, somehow.  Surely this didn’t mean he was in love with her…did it?  Was she in love with him?  Marie only knew that she’d meant it, had never been more serious when she’d said “I’m glad I’m yours.”  She wanted to belong to him, to be his possession.  Was that the same thing as love?  She didn’t know.

She was almost relieved that he’d switched gears again, becoming her stern Master once more.  Tenderness from him was wonderful, but confusing.  She didn’t want to think about anything right now.  She just wanted to be here, in this strange store, crawling for him.

She reached his side and peeked up at his face.  There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he said casually, “Turn around and do it again.  And this time arch your back more.  I want to see that cute bottom sticking up.”

Her face flamed, but Marie obediently turned around and started crawling back the way she’d come, trying to push her ass out and up as she went.  She knew he had a perfect view of her pussy as her thighs moved, propelling her down the aisle.  The chain between her breasts swung as she went.  The humiliation made her pussy start to throb again.

When she had come full circle, she hesitated there on her hands and knees, looking up at him for approval.  The hopeful expression on her face was enchanting, but he just said briefly, “Good.  You can sit up.”        

She leaned back on her heels, her thighs modestly pressed together, and he frowned.  “Spread your legs more,” he ordered, sounding impatient.  “I shouldn’t have to keep telling you I want to be able to see your pussy.”

Marie’s flinched at his hard tone and hastily parted her thighs.  It was hard to keep her legs open like this, but she realized she loved kneeling before him.  It felt natural somehow, and it made her feel safe.  She saw that he’d stopped next to a display of collars, many of which came with a matching leash.  There were big, menacing iron and steel collars, dog collars—some with words printed on them, mostly “Slave,” or “Slut,” plus a few that said “Bitch”—leather collars, and some delicate metal ones that could almost pass for necklaces, if it weren’t for the shiny loops, made for attaching a leash, that hung from them.  “Choose one,” he was saying.

Her eyes scanned the selections.  To be perfectly truthful, she liked the thick steel collars the best, the ones that looked like something a real slave would be forced to wear.  But she didn’t know how often, or where, he was going to make her wear it—maybe she should pick one of the more discreet items.  She was reminded of a question she hadn’t voiced yet.  Hadn’t he said she could ask three questions?  She looked up at him, remembering not to talk, but trying with her expression to ask permission.  Amazingly, he knew just what she wanted.  “Have another question?” he asked.  She nodded eagerly, and he gestured for her to go ahead.

But now she couldn’t figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say.  “How often—I mean, will you want—” She broke off and started again.  “Can I still keep my normal life?”

For a moment she wasn’t even sure what she’d meant—and then, only then, did she realize how much her entire life had been shaken to its roots.  That there was now a before and after, and how sharp the divide was between them.  She was afraid he’d take offense at the question and watched carefully for his reaction.  To her relief, he was calm and direct and seemed to have understood perfectly what she was asking.  “I have no desire to interfere with your studies or your social life,” he said.  He smiled evilly.  “But I will demand a lot of your free time.”

Well, that didn’t exactly mean he wouldn’t make her wear her steel slave collar to class, Marie thought, but she was somewhat reassured.  Timidly she reached up and touched a package containing one of the shiny steel models, not the largest one, but not the smallest, either.  She saw him raise his eyebrows and blushed again.

There was only one kind of leash that could go with the collar she picked out, so Marie wasn’t surprised when he slid a four-foot chain leash, with a leather loop for a handle, off its hook and over his wrist.  She watched him sort through the collars she’d pointed at until he found one he thought would fit her and removed it from its packaging.  She didn’t question his expertise or his right to take what he wanted from the store. 

“Stand up,” he said, and she did, feeling very small next to him.  He tilted her chin up, making her look at him.  “Last question.”

She swallowed, trying to think.  She knew he was about to collar her, asking for a commitment.  She thought it would be a long time before she got tired of being his—right now she could barely imagine going back to her quiet, vanilla life of two days ago.  But she needed to know what she was letting herself in for.  “How—how long?” she stammered.  She tried to turn her face away but he held her chin firmly.  His expression, however, was benign as he replied, “We’ll just see how it goes, princess.”

She smiled waveringly, the endearment as always making her throat tighten with tears.  She nodded.

His face turned very serious then and he shifted his grip, closing his hand lightly over her throat.  “Do you want to become my property, princess?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, without hesitating.

“Think about it,” he growled, his hand tightening slightly.  “You’re going to be mine, to use however I want to, when I want to.  I’m going to humiliate you,” he warned, watching her flushed face closely.  “I’m going to punish you.  Are you willing to suffer for me, princess?”

His words enflamed Marie.  It was as if he were reading off a list of her deepest, most secret urges, the things she’d always wanted someone to do to her, for her.  A little cry of lust and joy escaped her as she closed her eyes and swayed on her feet.  He held her up, and when she opened her eyes he was staring at her intently.  She opened her mouth and started to say, “Yes!”…just as he grabbed the chain at her breasts and ripped the nipple clamps off.

       It was as if the scream had been ripped from her at the same instant, the pain jumping from her nipples directly to her throat.  It hurt so much that she would have fallen to her knees—except that he seized her hair and yanked her upright, making her shriek again.  He made her stand on her feet then thrust his face into hers.  “Do not make this decision lightly…princess!”  He spat out the last word, his saliva spraying her face.  “This is not a game!”  He released his hold on her hair so suddenly that she staggered slightly.  He slapped her pussy, hard, with his open palm, then shoved his thumb inside her and worked his middle finger ruthlessly up her ass so that she seemed to dance, whimpering, in the palm of his hand.

       He brandished the collar in her face with his free hand.  “You put this on and you’re mine, do you understand? Not just when you feel like getting laid.  Every…second…of every…day!”  He jerked the hand, the one she was skewered on, up hard to emphasize each word, making her cry out each time.  “You put this on and you do what I tell you, the instant I tell you to do it.  Your only purpose in life will be to serve me.  I will give you pain, pleasure or humiliation as I please, use you or ignore you as I choose, and you will thank me for all of it.  Is that…what…you…want?”

       He jerked her up even harder with each of his final words, then tore his hand away and watched as she collapsed to the ground.  Marie fell in a sobbing heap at his feet and cried piteously for a long time. But eventually, slowly, she calmed and became quiet. Then she raised her face, still streaming with tears, to his and whispered,  “Yes…Master.”

READING ALLOWED, Part 4

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

       He made her put the collar on herself.  He showed her how to open the clasp with the Allen key and watched her fix the steel band around her neck.  It fit perfectly—snug against her skin but not tight enough to constrict her breathing in any way.  He pocketed the key and just watched her as she knelt at his feet, feeling the collar with her hands and getting used to its weight.  After a quiet, tense minute, during which he was sure she was contemplating the seriousness of the decision she’d just made—and, he had no doubt, getting hornier by the second—he reached down and clipped the chain leash to her collar.

       He took a step back and gave the leash a vicious yank, pitching Marie forward onto her hands and knees.  She gasped and her hand went involuntarily to her neck.  She looked up at him and her face, small and pale above the shiny uncompromising steel, revealed her hurt feelings.  “Just making sure it works, princess,” he said in reply, smiling cruelly.  He pulled steadily on the leash and she followed him, crawling, over to a padded spanking bench assembled in the middle of the store.  He sat down and she settled at his feet.

       Marie was exhausted.  Her thoughts and feelings had been rioting since that morning, and it was taking its toll on her.  She knew she’d made the right decision when she agreed to wear his collar, but her life had changed so irrevocably and so fast—she couldn’t assimilate the joy and confusion that flooded her.  Her pussy and asshole burned where he’d so roughly fingered them.  The slight pain only made her hornier.

       For she was horny again, almost unbearably so.  The way he’d manhandled her, the feel of the slave collar around her neck, the crawling, all had their inevitable effect and by now she could feel her wetness starting to coat her inner thighs.  Her nipples, still recovering from having been clamped for an hour or more, were hard and throbbing.  How badly she wanted him to touch her again, to hold her like he had before…  She rubbed her head against his leg, instinctively seeking comfort.

       “Sit up and look at me,” he snapped, sounding irritated.  Marie rushed to obey him, remembering to spread her thighs, hoping he’d notice and be pleased. 

       But his voice was cold as he went on, “Now for your punishment.”

       She looked so dismayed it was comical.  He would have laughed if this hadn’t been an important moment.  He had to make good on his promise to make her suffer right away, or she might not take him seriously. 

       Marie felt her stomach sink.  She’d been so hoping he’d take her in his arms, hold her down and fuck her thoroughly.  Hadn’t he punished her well enough for her two transgressions?  She’d thought the panties over her face and in her mouth, the clamps on her nipples, being left uncomfortably bound and alone in the bookstore hallway had been her punishment.  What had she done now?

       As if reading her thoughts, he was saying, “I think you learned your lesson about following my directions precisely, and maybe even about coming without permission.”  He paused for effect.  “But you’ve completely neglected to thank me for your gift.”

       Marie’s hands flew to her collar and grasped it tightly, afraid he might take it away from her.  An instant later, however, she threw herself down, her forehead touching the tips of his shoes and her palms to the floor on either side of him.  “I’m so sorry, Master,” she said to the floor, “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.”  She raised her face to look up at him.  “Thank you, Master,” she whispered, “for the most wonderful, precious gift I’ve ever been given.  I know I don’t deserve it, especially now when I’ve been so thoughtless.”  She rose up onto her knees and seized his hands.  “Please, please punish me, Sir, as I deserve.”  She released his hands and prostrated herself before him again.

       He was glad she wasn’t looking at him, because he was a little shocked.  He never expected her to attain this level of submissiveness this soon.  He didn’t know if she was just being clever, trying to think of the right things to say to mollify him, or if she really meant it—but either way, it was an impressive apology.  It also made him hard as a rock.

       He stood up and said, “Get up,” and to his relief his voice sounded disgusted.  She rose shakily, keeping her eyes downcast.  He studied her face for a couple of seconds but he still couldn’t tell if she’d been sincere in her apology or what she was thinking.  Well, in a few minutes all her thoughts would be focused on the pain of her ass.

       In truth, he wasn’t angry with her, or even really disappointed—she’d learn.  But he’d been waiting all evening to really enjoy his new little submissive, and now his body was straining to possess her.  “All right, princess,” he said finally, indicating the spanking bench.  “Climb aboard.”

       Marie looked at the contraption with trepidation.  He had been sitting on a cushioned platform, about three feet off the ground.  To one side of it, about a foot lower, were two skinnier, longer platforms, about two or three feet apart and angled outward.  On the other side were another two platforms, a little shorter and about shoulder-width apart.  An intimidating collection of straps and cuffs dangled from several points.

       Satisfied that she’d figured it out, Marie gingerly approached the bench.  Kneeling carefully on the long padded rests, she aligned her hips with the middle platform and bent forward until she could place her forearms on the arm rests.  As soon as she was in place, her instincts screamed at her to jump up and get off this thing.  She’d never felt so exposed, even when she’d been bound and naked in the parking lot earlier.  She started to tremble.  Why, once he strapped her down he’d be able to do anything he wanted to her, and she would be helpless to resist.

       He, on the other hand, was delighted with the way she looked on the bench.  His friend Theo had adjusted it to his specifications earlier that evening, and her petite frame fit perfectly.  Her arms were supported from her hands to her elbows, her legs from her knees to her ankles, while her small bare feet hung in the air off the end of the leg rests, her toes pointing at the floor.  The main platform supported her hips and stomach, but her breasts hung free, almost beckoning him to do things to them.  The arm rests were low enough that her ass was pointed enticingly upwards, while her legs were kept spread and angled apart, giving him access to her crotch and inner thighs.  His heart pounded at the sight, and he knew she’d look even sexier when she was strapped down.

       With that thought in mind, he began to efficiently fasten the straps and cuffs to her body.  There were cuffs for her ankles and wrists, pinning them securely to the arm and leg rests.  Additional straps went around the backs of her knees, her arms near the elbow, and her waist.  He pulled them all very tight, knowing that when he was done she wouldn’t be able to so much as wiggle.  When he was done he stepped back and looked at her, slowly circling her helpless form.  The black cuffs and straps contrasted delightfully with her pale skin, the dusky pink color of her nipples and pussy also standing out.  The angle of the leg rests pulled her buttocks and pussy lips apart slightly and tightened the skin over the whole area, making it more sensitive to punishment.  He swore he could see her pussy twitching, clear moisture seeping slowly and steadily from it, making her plump labia look shiny and enticing.  It was a vision.

       He stepped around to her front, where she kept her head down, her hair falling around her face.  “Look at me,” he commanded and she did, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks betraying her nervousness and her arousal.  “Do you remember reading me your favorite book last night?”

       “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her stomach tightening as she wondered where this was leading.

       “In that chapter, what happened to the princess?’

       “She—she was sp-spanked, in the tavern in the inn,” Marie stammered.

       “Spanked with what, princess?”

       Her heart pounding, Marie struggled to get her voice to cooperate.  He reached out and pinched one of her sore nipples.  When he started twisting it, she finally cried, “A—a paddle, Sir!”

       He released her nipple, saying, “That’s right.”  He smiled wolfishly, adding, “I’m sure you can guess what’s going to happen to you.” 

He took a step towards her, adding,  “But not just yet.”  He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face with his hands, pausing to massage her temples gently with his thumbs, soothing her.  “Not…just…yet,” he repeated softly, as if to himself.  He opened and unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his thighs.  Then he took his cock in his hand and began to rub it across Marie’s face.

       “Mmmm…”  His eyes were intense, his expression deeply focused as if he was an artist and her face the canvas he was painting.  Sometimes he used just the very tip to make delicate little patterns around her eyes and other times he would press its entire length against her face, seizing her head and grinding it roughly back and forth against him.  Marie knew she had to be utterly still, to continue to meet his gaze, even though she was dying to take him into her mouth, especially when he began to rub the head across her lips.

          She got her wish, although not in the way she had hoped, when he used his hands to pull her jaws apart and shoved his cock into her mouth--as if she were not a person at all, nothing but a convenient hole for him to fuck. 

His face was as cold and dispassionate as his movements were brutally lustful.  He pushed his cock down her throat and held it until she began choke and gag, then withdrew just long enough for her to gasp for breath before pushing into her again, over and over.

       Marie whimpered, tears running down her face, as she choked and tried desperately to relax her throat enough to accommodate him.  Her body of its own accord writhed helplessly against her bonds until she felt as if every muscle was about to be torn loose.  And her pussy…oh god, her pussy was dripping!

       At the very edge of her peripheral vision she could still make out his face during those few seconds when her head wasn’t being forced up and down on his cock.  She saw his eyes blaze and his jaw tighten and knew instinctively that he was about to come.  So when he pulled out of her mouth and released his grip she raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze as he reached his orgasm and with no more than a single grunt of pleasure began spurting his come onto her face.

       Thankfully, he missed her eyes, but Marie could feel the globs of come sliding down her cheeks and forehead.  Bound as she was, she couldn’t wipe it off.  But he had no intention of it coming off, she realized as, recovering himself, he used his thumbs to gently, carefully smear the deposit across her face, rubbing it into her skin.

       “Maybe this time you’ll remember not to wash your face.”

       Tears filled Marie’s eyes at the thought of having the sticky residue of his come on her face for hours, days maybe, but she reveled in his cruelty—now only wishing he’d get on with it and fuck her as roughly as she was longing for him to do.  But he was going to paddle her first.

       He had refastened his pants and walked away, out of her sight.  She could hear him touching something on one of the store’s racks.  Her body tensed at the sound of wood knocking into wood; her muscles struggled in vain to close her legs.  He came back, holding three different paddles by their handles.  He thrust them toward her face, saying gruffly, “Choose.”

       The sight of the frightening instruments had Marie flexing involuntarily against her bonds again.  All three paddles were made of wood, but their properties varied otherwise.  One was long and skinny, about an inch thick, with holes bored through it at intervals.  The second was broader and shorter, with a long handle.  She looked at the third one with distaste.  It was dyed a lurid purple color and the paddle at the end of its long handle was shaped like a heart.  She remembered vividly her spanking from last night, so she had some idea now of how painful a spanking could be, but that had just been with his hand.  This had to be much worse.  She wished she had some idea of which would hurt the most.  She wished she could read his mind.  Was there one he wanted her to pick?

       It was taking her too long, she realized suddenly, frantically, just as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up and back.  “Didn’t I tell you I expect instant obedience?” he growled, and she hastened to say, “Yes, Sir, I’m sorry… the middle one.”

       Without releasing her hair, he brought his face close to hers and said, “Beg me to punish you.  Be specific.”

       Marie gulped.  She squirmed nervously against the straps.  “Please…” she whispered, then paused and took a shaky breath.  “Please punish me, Sir, for… for forgetting to thank you for my gift.”  Her eyes closed as she braced herself for the rest.  “Please paddle me, Sir.”

       It hardly gets better than this, he thought as he watched her pretty, expressive face, still shiny with his come; saw the eager, apprehensive look in her big green eyes as she begged him to hit her bound, defenseless body with a wooden paddle.  He was glad he’d fucked her face just before; otherwise, it would be a struggle not to take her right now.  She was so tempting when she begged.

       But first things first.  He dropped a kiss on her forehead, murmuring, “Good girl,” then released her hair and stepped around to her rear.  He dropped the other two paddles and hefted the one she’d picked in his hand.  He wondered if she knew that the longer handle would allow him to swing with more force.

       Marie hoped he wouldn’t make her wait forever like he had the night before… but as soon as she completed the thought she felt the smooth wooden edge of the paddle stroking her inner thighs, which were spread and stretched by the spanking bench.

       He slid the side of the paddle up against her pussy, making sure to stroke it over her clit, then back up between her buttocks and over the little star of her asshole.  He loved the way she gasped and squirmed in her bondage.  He’d pulled the straps so tight she could hardly move, only her head remaining free.  He stopped teasing her with the paddle, stopping only a moment to notice the gleam of moisture on its surface, and said loudly, “Now, since you obviously need some instruction in manners, princess, I think it’s appropriate for you to thank me after each swat.  Don’t you agree?”

       “Yes, Sir,” came her quiet, strained voice.

       The next sound that came out of her mouth was a yelp of pain-- “OWWwww!”--followed by the hiss of her breath through clenched teeth.  He had given her no warning whatsoever beyond the whoosh of the paddle just before it struck and she’d been completely unprepared.  Oh christ, it had hurt much more than any of his previous spankings.  And he was just beginning.

       Even though she was still gasping with pain and shock she forced herself to speak.  “Th-thank you, Ssssir,” she whispered.  “Thank you for p-punishing m-” The second blow cut her off before she could finish, making her head jerk back, and before she could lower it he had seized her by the hair again, yanking it tightly in his fist.  “Speak up, you lazy fucking whore!” he yelled.

       “Y-y-yes…YES SIR!” She spoke so loudly that her voice echoed in the empty store.  She sobbed a couple of times, then continued.  “THANK YOU FOR PUNISHING ME, SIR!”  Her scalp was on fire, her ass…her…oh god, her pussy was literally throbbing, she could feel it!  Then, before she knew what she was saying she burst out, “PLEASE PUNISH ME SOME MORE, SIR!”

       If he’d had any remaining doubts about her sexual nature, they were eradicated by her surprising plea.  He’d been a little unsure about how she’d take those first couple of blows—they were delivered at about eighty percent of his strength, hard enough to slam her hips forward into the padded bench.  The skin on her ass was already glowing a lovely shade of red.  But she was enjoying it—glorying in it, even.  She looked so incredibly sexual right now.  Her eyes were closed so that her long lashes fanned out over her cheeks; her head was drawn back by his grip on her hair, exposing the smooth lines of her throat and accentuating the slave collar she wore; her breasts with their swollen tips were thrust forward as her back arched.  There were little beads of sweat at her hairline.  His innocent little submissive—she was lost in pleasure as he punished her.

       He released her hair, taking a step back for better aim.  “You greedy slut!” he growled, a touch of humor in his voice, but she didn’t notice it, too busy absorbing the blow that followed his words.  And then another, before she’d managed to choke out a thank you.  As she started to gasp out the words, he swatted her again, and she lost her breath.  Finally he paused and she cried out, “Thank you, sir, thank you thank you!”  She didn’t know if he was counting, but Marie wasn’t taking any chances.

       He dropped the paddle and put his hands on her ass cheeks, feeling the heat of her skin.  He ran his fingernails lightly over them and watched her struggle in her bonds, her feet flexing helplessly.  “Tell me you’re my slut,” he ordered, his voice roughened by his burgeoning arousal.  He looked at her asshole, exposed and surrounded by the bright red skin of her ass.  He eased his thumb into it, unable to resist.

       Marie moaned at the invasion, her ass clamping down on his thumb as her pussy clenched involuntarily, grabbing at the empty air.  She’d die if he didn’t fuck her.  “God, yes, I’m your slut, Sir, I’m your slut!”  She almost screamed the last words.  “Please, please fuck me!  Oh, fuck me, Sir, PLEASE!”  She pictured him standing behind her, between her helplessly spread thighs, looking at her, casually raping her ass with his hand.  She heard him unzipping his pants again and strained against the strap, trying to push her ass back towards him in invitation.

       He positioned his cock, leaned over her and got a grip on her hair again.  “Don’t you dare come,” he snarled close to her ear, then drove into her in one hard thrust.

       It was impossible.  Marie screamed as his cock filled her all at once and she tumbled into the most intense orgasm of her life.  Her body thrashed against her restraints as of she were having a seizure or receiving a huge electrical shock.  She screamed again and again.  It was too much and it went on, wave after wave, for so long that she was almost afraid that he had somehow triggered an endless orgasm; that she would continue to come like this until she died from it. 

       He held himself perfectly still, his hands resting lightly on her hips as she jerked and gasped and screamed beneath him.  He had been reasonably sure that she would be unable to stop herself from coming, given how utterly, mindlessly aroused she was—which was why he had told her not to, of course.  But he was slightly shocked by the how quickly it had happened and by the incredible intensity of her orgasm.

       Eventually, though, she settled beneath him and became still.  Her breath, still coming in sobs at first, slowly quieted and her head hung down as if she had fainted.  Only then did he withdraw his now somewhat softened erection and stand.  He tucked himself back into his pants and closed them up again.

       He stood for a moment looking down at Marie, pinned like a butterfly on the bench.  His.  He leaned down and, even though he was fairly sure she wouldn’t feel it, placed a tender kiss at the base of her spine before turning and walking out of the room, returning moments later with a cup of water.

       He walked to the front of the bench, where she still lay only semi-conscious, her head lolling slowly back and forth, her sweat-soaked hair hanging in limp strands around it.  He let her rest a little longer, waiting until she showed signs of stirring before seizing her hair again, lifting her head up and dashing the water into her face. 

As she gasped and spluttered he leaned down, put his face to hers and said harshly, “I told you…not…to…come!”  He waited until her still-startled eyes focused on his before adding, “You are going to learn to do as you’re told if it takes all night!”

READING ALLOWED, Part 5By lamignonne and Zenmackie        All night?  His words reverberated in Marie’s mind.  Did he mean he was going to let her spend the night with him?  She fervently wished he would.  She so badly wanted him to hold her…and maybe he’d fuck her again, for longer this time—for real, if she could manage not to come the second his cock entered her.        She was so out of control with him, so dizzyingly emotional, reduced to a sobbing wreck one minute, on top of the world the next.  Like now—she had never felt so gloriously sated, her body still throbbing, her muscles hot and languid from the prolonged orgasm.  But even as she reveled in the dreamy aftermath of her climax, she began to notice that her pussy, incredibly, was already wanting more.  If he would just let her get off this damn bench, maybe she could manage not to be horny for a few minutes, but as long as she was tied down here with her legs spread wide and her ass in the air, it was going to be impossible to calm down for long.  Her clit was still hard and swollen and needy.  He hadn’t touched it, apart from that brief stroke of the paddle, before he’d spanked her.        The spanking bench suddenly became unbearable.  Marie was dying to stretch her tired muscles and if she could just close her legs maybe she could quiet the throbbing need between them.  The water he’d thrown on her face was still dripping off of her chin, irritating her.  He was busy doing something behind her; she could hear him moving around the store, then the crinkling sound of a plastic bag.  She wanted to get his attention, but recalled his order not to speak out.  She whimpered, pulling at the straps holding her in place.        He ignored her and she remembered his words from before she’d put on the collar: I will give you pain, pleasure or humiliation as I please, use you or ignore you as I choose…and you will thank me for all of it.  She had to change her thinking, she realized.  It was up to him to decide when she could get off the bench; it wasn’t for her to tell him to let her up.  But she still felt agitated, continuing to squirm fruitlessly in her bonds.        When he finally came back over to her, holding his bag full of new toys, Marie surprised him again.  He couldn’t resist giving her captive bottom one last hefty smack, making her yelp, and squeezing her tits for a couple of minutes.  When he stood in front of her to work on the cuffs holding her wrists, she looked up at him, shaking the hair out of her eyes, and said clearly, “Thank you for punishing me, Sir.”        He looked searchingly at her, but she seemed sincere, if a little shy.  Her eyes dropped as she struggled to finish, whispering, “I’m sorry I came without permission.”        He was pleased.  His voice was warm and had a teasing note to it when he replied, “My poor princess.  Always in trouble, aren’t you?”  He finished unstrapping her and helped her stand up.  She collapsed gratefully into his arms and he held her for a minute, loving her little moan when he rubbed her ass, still glowing a fiery red from her paddling.  He had seen the wetness again leaking from her pussy.  All in all, he couldn’t complain, he thought.  His new slave was proving as delightful as he’d hoped.  It was going to be fun torturing her hungry clit with the powerful new vibrator he’d just selected.  It was about one in the morning on a Friday night.  He looked forward to a long, interesting weekend.        He continued to hold her.  His left hand rested lightly on the back of her head, just above her collar.  He had been using his right arm to hold her close but now he lifted it and reached between her legs to grasp her leash.  He pulled it slowly through her legs…and then up, watching her carefully as the chain tightened, first between her ass cheeks and then the lips of her pussy.  He wrapped the end of the chain around his fist, pulling it tighter, bringing Marie up onto her toes as he had earlier.  Only this time, because of the chain, he was pulling her collar tighter and tighter as well, using his hand at the back of her head to keep the pressure steady.        He watched her eyes go wide, staring into his as she began to struggle for breath.  He began to slowly pull the chain back and forth, knowing it was rubbing over her clit.  Then he bent down and kissed her for a long moment, his tongue probing her mouth as she gasped for breath through her nose.        When he kissed her like that, so possessively, it made Marie a little crazy.  She kissed him back frantically, her body straining to get away from the bite of the chain between her legs, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.  The metal of the leash felt shockingly cold against her burning crotch, and her hard nipples rubbed against him.  She was as horny now as she had been before the orgasm.        He broke the kiss and loosened the leash just enough to allow her to catch her breath, though she still danced on her toes from the pressure between her legs.  “Do you have plans for this weekend, princess?”         She shook her head as much as she could with it still in his grip and gasped, “No, Sir—just homework.”        “Good.”  He whipped the leash out from between her legs and pointed at the floor, saying, “Down.”        The shame of being spoken to like an animal sent a renewed pulse of fire through Marie.  She knelt carefully on her hands and knees and he led her, crawling, back out of the store the way they had come in.        Then they were outside again.  Marie waited at his feet while he locked up.  She knew there was no chance that he would let her get up and walk back to the van after coming without his permission a second time.  She just hoped he would go slow enough to let her avoid anything particularly nasty or dangerous on the ground.  As he turned and walked past her he patted her on the head and said, “Good doggie,” before tugging gently on her leash.  Marie followed as quickly as she could, her face still sticky with his come where the water had missed it--and burning with humiliation.        She had barely crawled ten feet however, when she was suddenly overcome with the need to urinate.  She had been so overwhelmed by everything else that had happened that she had forgotten that it had been hours since her last visit to the toilet.  She tried to suppress it but that only made it worse.  She wasn’t allowed to talk without permission, what was she going to do?        She did the only thing she could think of: she crawled as fast as she could until she caught up with him then, feeling like an utter idiot, seized his pant-leg in her teeth and began to whine like an anxious puppy.  And when he stopped and turned to her she sat up, holding her hands out like paws, begging.     His grin when he saw her was so wide that it almost turned into laughter.  “What is it, Lassie?” he said, mocking her.  “You say Grandpa’s trapped in the old mineshaft?”  Marie didn’t think she could blush any harder but she did.  “Please, Sir,” she said, assuming his mocking questions constituted permission to speak,  “Can we go back inside for a minute?  I really, really need to pee.”        He just stared at her for a second then shook his head, bemused, before jerking her back onto all fours.  He led her directly over to the nearest lamppost in the lot, stopped, then turned and looked at her expectantly.        Oh no.  He couldn’t possibly expect her to…  Yes, of course he could.  And he expected instant obedience; she had certainly learned that.  So, holding his gaze as best she could with tears of humiliation filling her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, Marie lifted her leg and urinated against the lamppost.  The sound of her pee hitting the metal seemed to ring through the entire parking lot.The worst part, though, was having to look at him while she did it.        When she finished she barely had time to put her leg down before he jerked on her leash and set off again, with Marie scrambling to keep up, heedless now of whatever might be on the ground beneath her. 

When they got to the van he opened the door on her side and simply said, “Up.”  And when she had scrambled into the seat he slammed the door and told her, “Put your ass out the window.”  Marie clumsily and hurriedly knelt on the seat with her back to the door then put her head down and her behind out the window as ordered.She heard him pawing through the plastic bag he carried…and shuddered.  A moment later she felt him separating her cheeks with the fingers of one hand, then something was shoved rudely up her ass, making her cry out.  “That’s one,” she heard him say. 

One?  Oh god…  Then something—and it was something much bigger this time—was forced between her legs, stretching her pussy painfully.  “That’s two,” she heard him say.  “Now, let’s see…”            There was a tiny click from behind her…and suddenly her entire pussy, from the lips all the way to her womb, seemingly, were vibrating—humming like a gigantic and very angry bumblebee.  Before she could catch her breath—and she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to—he had climbed into the seat beside her.     He threw the bag into the back seat then bent down to her.  

“Don’t…fucking…move.  And if you come once more without my permission I will stop this van and push you out onto the sidewalk.”           Then he started the van and drove off.           At first, coming was the farthest thing from Marie’s mind.  She just wanted this thing out of her.  The vibration was so intense it tickled, and she shifted her hips frantically, torn between hope that the thing would fall out on its own and the desire to obey him.  She grunted with the effort to keep still, too overwhelmed to try to stop the desperate sounds coming from her mouth.

There was one good thing about the vibrator stuffed inside her—it kept her from thinking.  Otherwise she might be dwelling on the fact that the window was still open, the cool night air rushing over her exposed ass; that she had just crawled naked across a parking lot and peed on a lamppost like a dog; that there was something shoved into her ass, intruding where nothing had ever penetrated, except his fingers, briefly.  What had come over her, really?  A few days ago she’d been a relatively innocent, well-behaved girl, her fantasies of submission and humiliation merely well kept secrets.

           Being with him was intoxicating; it was as if the cautious part of her brain was silenced, overwhelmed by the flood of powerful sensation he aroused in her.  There was the heady excitement and anxiety of waiting for him, wondering what he would do to her next, and the shameful thrill of being bound by him, used by him.  There was the torturous, drawn out need she suffered for him, and the blissful gratification when she came on his cock.  All of it made her feel so intensely that her everyday experiences seems like just so much lukewarm water.  In the back of her mind she’d already started to worry that he’d spoiled her satisfaction with her humdrum life; that she could so easily become addicted to his mastery of her.          Thank God the drive was short.  Preoccupied as she was with the buzzing in her pussy, Marie almost lost her balance on the seat a couple of times when he made a turn.  Just before he stopped the car, she had begun to know a new fear, as the relentless vibrator stimulated her unwilling pussy back to extreme arousal.   

           He said nothing as he turned off the engine and got out of the van.  With her head down on her arms on the seat, Marie couldn’t tell if they were in private or just on the side of the road somewhere, but she ceased to care as he opened her door and, without warning, grabbed the protruding end of the vibrator.  He pulled it out a few inches, then slammed it back into her, then again, and Marie gave a strangled scream, it felt so good.  God, didn’t he know that she’d come if he did that, that she couldn’t prevent it no matter how hard she tried?           But he must have known, because he switched off the vibrator and pulled it out of her.  The butt plug he left in place, although he gave it an experimental wiggle, making her grunt, before saying brusquely, “Get out—hands behind your head.”           Marie climbed shakily out of the van and posed as he’d ordered, relieved to see that they were in what appeared to be an underground garage, with no one else in sight.  She cast a furtive look around then glanced back at her Master.  The heat in his eyes as he looked her over startled her, and then gratified her.  Even though she was standing before him naked, wearing his collar and leash, her asshole uncomfortably full of one of his toys, she felt absurdly proud.  She could see the possessive lust in his gaze as he reached for her leash, and she felt all at once that she had an advantage over him.           The feeling was short-lived as he jerked her forward with the leash and she found out immediately that walking while wearing a butt plug was an uncomfortable business.  The thing seemed to shift inside her with every step she took, stretching her.  She made a little sound of distress, wishing he would slow down, but he walked briskly towards an elevator, looking back over his shoulder once so as not to miss the sight of his slave waddling awkwardly behind him, her young body admirably displayed as she kept her hands obediently behind her head.           Inside the elevator, he positioned her with her back to the doors, ordering her to spread her legs and grab her ankles.  He punched the button for floor 5 and turned his attention to his slave, jiggling the butt plug and flicking her swollen clit with his fingers, making her whimper.  “You’d better hope no one’s waiting to get on at the top,” he whispered, enjoying her nervous shiver.  There would be no one there; his was the only unit on the top floor.  But she didn’t know that.

       The elevator arrived and they got off into an austere corridor that Marie barely had time to register as he pulled on her leash, hustling her over to a lone door with the number 10 on it.  He quickly unlocked it and pushed her ahead of him through the doorway, dropping the bag of toys to the floor as he followed her.        Marie stopped and stared.  “Wow,” she breathed, not even noticing she’d spoken out.  This had to be one of those old buildings down at the waterfront, converted into fabulous lofts.  She was a little relieved to have some idea, for once, where they were.  Her eyes roamed over the modern architecture with the exposed brick and beams, the open staircase leading to a half-story above them, and the bright paintings hung everywhere.  One entire wall was given over to floor-to-ceiling windows that commanded a view of the downtown skyline, while another wall was covered by enormously tall bookshelves crammed with books.  There was even a sliding ladder reaching up to the top shelf.        Marie was seriously impressed.  She looked curiously at her new Master, who had moved over to the kitchen, set in an alcove in one corner of the vast space.  Surely he wasn’t this rich just from running the bookstore?  A man of secret resources.        He had filled a glass with ice water, and now he brought it over to a comfortable-looking armchair and sat down, calling to her, “Come here, princess.”        She hurried, as fast as the butt plug would allow her, to kneel at his feet, remembering to keep her knees spread.  She saw his gaze dart to her crotch and couldn’t help smiling.  He thrust the glass into her hand and said, “Drink all of it.”  She watched him as she gulped the water, and it seemed to her that his face, usually so enigmatic, softened somewhat as he looked her over.  This, combined with the way he’d looked at her in the garage, emboldened her to speak more freely than before when he took the glass from her and asked gently, “How are you feeling now, princess?”        “Well,” she said, smiling, “at first I was pretty distracted by your wonderful books.”  Her eyes swept over the wall of books behind him, then returned to his face.  “But now… I’m just horny again.”        “You’re not hungry?”        “No, Sir.”  She was still smiling at him.  He was intrigued by this new mood of hers.  She looked positively impish.  It was something he’d prolong if this weren’t a serious moment.        “Good,” he said curtly, and his tone changed abruptly.  He watched her face fall in response, and then ordered, “Kiss my feet, princess.”  As she bent to do it he added, “I want to see your ass in the air.”  He leaned back and watched her for a minute or two as she dropped little kisses on his shoes, then told her to sit up.        “Hands behind your back.”        She obeyed and he saw that the beautiful apprehensive look was back in her eyes.  He leaned forward and took hold of each of her nipples, noticing that she immediately pushed her chest towards him in invitation.  He pinched slightly—not enough to hurt, but the threat was there.  “What are you, princess?”        By now familiar with this line of questioning, Marie answered immediately, “I’m your property, Sir.”  Her voice was a little breathless.        “That’s right.  And that means your body…” He trailed off meaningfully.        “It—it belongs to you?” she guessed.        “Good.  And what else?”  He rolled her nipples to give her a hint.        “My… my tits,” she whispered, realizing she’d never said that word out loud before.        He pinched hard.  “Your tits what?”        “My tits… belong to you,” she said hastily, catching on.        “What else, princess?”        “My pussy belongs to you,” she whispered.  “And… my ass belongs to you too.”        He wondered if she knew she was spreading her thighs wider as she talked, thrusting her pelvis towards him slightly.  Her eyes had drifted closed as she spoke, so when he suddenly shouted at her she nearly jumped out of her skin.        “So then why—” his voice cracked like a whip “—do you think you can come whenever you want?”        Her eyes filled up.  He could tell she was wringing her hands behind her back.  “I don’t think—I mean, it—I—I can’t help it,” she foundered.  “I’m sorry!”        “It occurred to me,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, “that it might be interesting to see what happens if I give you exactly what you want.”  He looked directly at her, challenging her.  “Well, slut?  Do you want me to make you come?”        Was this a trick question?  Marie hesitated.  She could say something clever, like “I want to please you, Sir,” as she had the first night in the bookstore.  Or she could tell him the truth: that she was dying to have his cock in her pussy again, that she wanted his hands on her again, delivering her to an explosive climax.  “Yes, please, Sir,” she whispered finally.  “Make me come for you, please.”        So be it, he thought, and stood up.  He motioned her to stand too then pulled her leash from the back of her collar up between her legs again, watching it dig into her crotch.  He pulled her along this way across the room and up the stairs.         His bedroom was as impressive as the rest of the loft.  A magnificent painting dominated the wall over his enormous bed.  The furniture was made of heavy, masculine mahogany.  Marie absorbed these details even as she waddled hurriedly to keep up with him, trying to mitigate the pressure of the chain leash between her legs.  It was also pressing against the base of her plug, making her painfully aware of the intruder.  Finally he stopped, pulled the leash free, and unclipped it from her collar.  “Lie down on your back,” he said, and Marie climbed up onto the bed, her body already starting to tremble in anticipation.        He stood at the foot of the bed watching as she followed his orders.  He had to repress a smile, first at the expression on her face as she lay back and realized she would be lying on her butt plug, then at the speed with which she remembered to spread her legs for him.  The bedspread was a rich, dark green that made her eyes stand out in sharp relief from her pale features; they seemed almost to glow as they stared anxiously up at him.  So sweet, so vulnerable, so desperately eager to please him—Christ, she made him hard!  And she had no idea what she had just let herself in for.        “Hands over your head, princess.  Grab the headboard.”  He watched her roll her head back to see behind her then reach up to grasp two of the dozen carved wooden posts that made up the framework of the headboard before returning her gaze to him, her chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly. 

       He’d had no idea when or even if this moment would come…but he had anticipated it.  He reached beneath the foot of the bed and retrieved the lengths of rope he had stored there.  Without a word he fastened her wrists to the headboard. 

       He tied two more pieces of rope around her ankles.  He was sure she was expecting him to tie them to the wooden knobs at the foot of the bed, and he watched her expression carefully as he lifted her left leg straight up and fastened it to the corner post of the headboard, then repeated the procedure with her right leg.  He stepped back to survey his work.  Marie’s legs were now pulled straight back and spread wide apart above her head.  Her hips were hovering over the bed, her ass and pussy completely on display.  Her expression, as she stared helplessly back at him, was one of dismay…and deep arousal.        He casually jerked out her butt plug then slammed it back in, causing her to cry out.  He slapped her ass cheeks a few times then reached between her legs and began stroking her clitoris vigorously, pinning her with his gaze as he did so.  He judged to a nicety exactly when she was on the verge of orgasm, then stopped cold, leaving her writhing and gasping in place.  He came around the side of the bed and leaned down to her.  “Do you still want to come for me, princess?”        Marie was hyperventilating so hard that she was unable to speak.  Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide and glazed.  She managed to nod though, beseeching him with her eyes.        “Very well, princess,” he replied softly, kissing her on the forehead.  “Remember that you asked for this.”  He straightened and started to walk away--then turned and with a hint of a smile said, “Wait here.”  He left the room and Marie heard him walking down the stairs.        She wondered if anyone had stopped just short of making him come.  Goddamn him, didn’t he know how much this sucked?  She was unable to stop herself from whimpering, even though he was no longer in the room to hear her, as her denied pussy throbbed and clenched on empty air.  It was akin to pain, this denial.  She twisted her hands against the ropes without even realizing she was doing it.  How could he ask her if she wanted to come for him and then just walk away?  And why had he said, remember that you asked for this?        Marie closed her eyes, finding the sight of her own body so lewdly on display unbearable.  Not for the first time this night, she longed for a stiff drink.  Would he ever let her have one, she mused, or would that go against his insistence that she “pay attention” every moment?         She heard his steps coming up the stairs.  With her eyes closed, it seemed every faint sound was magnified, and she detected the rattle of the plastic bag from the sex shop.  She felt suddenly apprehensive.  What did he have in there?  Her eyes flew open, and she strained to lift her head enough to see what he was doing, feeling the pull in her hamstrings.  He had paused at the top of the stairs, apparently taking a moment to enjoy the view.  Marie realized she must look ridiculous with her face appearing just above her spread out crotch and hurriedly lay her head down again.  She thought she heard him stifling a laugh, but she wasn’t sure.        He set the bag down on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to her displayed form.  He leaned down and kissed her, very gently.  Marie wanted to kiss him back hungrily but held back, following his lead.  He kissed her breasts next, slowly, almost reverently.  His hair tickled her inner thighs as his head moved between her spread legs.  Then he leaned back and his left hand moved to her pussy.  Using his thumb and middle finger, he carefully spread her labia to each side, then pushed with his index finger on the top of her pussy, until her clit was good and exposed.        Marie was so engrossed in watching his ministrations that she didn’t notice what his other hand was doing.  Then she heard the loud, powerful buzz of the vibrator.  Her eyes went wide and she gasped in genuine horror.  The damn thing sounded like it was on its highest setting!  He couldn’t be meaning to put that on her clit.  Didn’t he know how sensitive it was already--how just the gentle pressure of his finger would make her shake to pieces?  He was bringing it towards her spread open pussy.         Marie panicked, making a desperate effort to wiggle out from under his hand.  He held her down easily with his right forearm across her midsection, bringing the vibrator inexorably closer.  “No, don’t!” she shrieked, “please--” but her words turned into a loud wail as he shoved the buzzing pink monster right up against her clit.        She came instantly, throwing her head back, her whole body jerking, her fingers clawing helplessly at the sheet beneath her bound hands.  For a few moments it was sheer bliss, as her nerves sang with an explosion of pleasure after having been teased for so long.  But she was jolted back to earth as the stimulation of her clit turned torturous--he wasn’t letting up!  He continued to hold the buzzing toy directly against her hypersensitive, swollen clit, and Marie frantically twisted, trying to get away from it.  She opened glazed eyes long enough to see the intent, searing hot look on his face, and then she started shrieking again.  “Take--it--away!” she cried, breathless.  “You can’t--oh--oh, God, yeeeessssss!”                Barely maintaining his grip on her pussy, he watched her spasm for the second time in less than a minute.  Her hips jerked crazily; her legs shook in their bondage.  He watched her skin flush pink, from her face all the way down her chest.  He could even see her asshole clenching on the butt plug as she came and came.        Finally, with one great gasp for air, she looked at him, terrified to see the determined set of his features.  “Don’t!  Don’t!  I can’t breathe, please--”        But he was merciless.  Watching carefully to make sure she didn’t pass out, he forced her to one more crashing orgasm, barely hanging on to the vibrator as her pussy gushed moisture.         When he finally removed the toy, Marie lay limply, soaked in sweat, her face wet with tears, her chest heaving.  Her legs were trembling and her clit protruded obscenely, an angry red.  He could see it twitching as the aftershocks swept through her, gradually slowing, until finally she opened her eyes and looked at him.        She immediately started begging.  “Oh, please, please, Sir, don’t do that again.  I won’t come without permission anymore.  I’ll--I’ll suck your cock whenever you want.  Okay?  You can fuck me, okay?  Yes, please, fuck my pussy instead.  You can fuck my ass if you want--”        He covered her mouth with his hand, stopping the flow of entreaty and negotiation.  He doubted she even realized she was babbling.  “I will definitely fuck you, princess,” he said, “but you’re going to come for me again first.”        Her eyes filled anew; she shook her head, trying again to speak.  He reached for his bag of tricks again, this time retrieving a nice big ball gag.  He was fairly certain she’d let him put it on her, but pried her mouth open forcefully with his fingers anyway, just because he could.  He shoved the ball behind her teeth and buckled the straps behind her head, noting with slight irritation that even on the last hole, the device still wasn’t as tight as he would have liked.         Wanting to give her just a little more time, he ran his hands all over her for a minute or two, squeezing her tits, administering little swats to her ass and the backs of her thighs, enjoying her helplessness.  He twisted the butt plug, reminding her it was there.  Then he switched on the vibrator.        Marie looked at it nervously.  The truth was, being tied like this, with her legs over her head, was making her tremendously horny again, and if he would just fuck her, she knew she’d find the strength to come again on his cock.  But she didn’t think she could stand that awful buzzing toy on her clit again.  Coming this hard this many times in a row--it was exhausting, and kind of scary.  She had no control over her body--he was manipulating it, could make her scream with orgasm at his whim.         And at the moment, that was definitely his plan.  She tensed all over as he spread her pussy with one hand as before, and then brought the vibrator against her.        This time Marie lasted a few more seconds, keening in painful pleasure, before she came explosively again.  As he maintained the pressure of the vibrator, her climax went on and on.  At its peak, she clenched so hard that the butt plug went flying out of her asshole, and she squirted all over his hand.  He would have laughed if he’d seen that happen in a porno, but when she did it, in the throes of a mindless orgasm, it made him desperately hard.  He switched off the vibrator, quickly opened his pants, and then, before she’d even caught her breath, plunged into her.

       Oh!  Oh god!  He was finally inside her again!  Nothing else mattered—her aching hips, her painfully throbbing clit, her complete and utter exhaustion; they all faded away, along with the rest of the universe: her Master’s cock was inside her, filling her, thrusting into her over and over, and that’s all there was, all that ever could be.  His hands were under her shoulders, gripping her so tightly that she could feel the joints creaking.  His face hovered an inch above hers, his eyes staring deeply into hers, possessing her soul as completely as he did her body.        Marie wanted to tell him that, tell him again that she belonged to him, right now.  But she couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe in fact, through the ball gag, so she tried to tell him with just her eyes: opening to him, willing him to see all the way down to her heart and know how completely she had surrendered to him.        And once again he seemed to read her mind, reaching up to tear the gag from her mouth and throw it aside without slowing or missing a stroke.  “Say it!’ he commanded her.        “I’m yours, Master!” she cried out.  “I’m your slut, I’m your fucktoy, Master!  I’m your…  Oh god, you’re fucking me, Sir!  Ohhhh, shit yes…  Fuck me, Sir!  Your cock…oh god yes, fuck me with your cock! Thank you for fucking me, Sir! Oh, oh god I’m…I’m…please, Sir, may I come for you?  Please…shit, oh god…PLEASE MAY I COME FOR YOU SIR!”        Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have denied her.  He could feel her pussy tightening on him, the preliminary to another staggering climax, and he growled, "Yes, come for me now!" as he began pounding into her hard and fast, his hips slamming into her defenseless, exposed buttocks.  He heard her squeak as her whole body clenched too hard to breathe, saw her eyes roll back in her head, then threw his own head back as he began to come, his cock shooting over and over, urged on by her pussy's helpless spasms.        He managed not to collapse on her, which would have put strain on her bound joints, but he rolled onto the mattress beside her for a few minutes, breathing hard, his body still singing with pleasure.  When he'd recovered somewhat, he sat up and looked down at Marie, who seemed to be nearly unconscious now that her breathing had slowed and her heart had stopped racing.  Her eyes were closed, and the bright flush that covered her face and chest during her orgasms had yet to fade.  Her legs hung limply from their bonds; her fingers lay still for the first time since he showed her the vibrator.        He quietly began untying the bonds at her ankles and wrists, guiding each leg gently down to the mattress and gently massaging her calves, thighs, and hips.  She didn't stir until he leaned over her and tenderly traced the tear tracks on her face with his finger; then she finally opened her eyes.  She saw him smiling down at her and she smiled back, a little shy all of the sudden.  He'd seen her at her most vulnerable, climaxing uncontrollably, begging outrageously for him to let her come again.  She turned her head away as another thought occurred to her.  "Did I...did I do it right this time?" she asked softly.        He caught the worry in her voice and caught her chin, turning her face back up to his.  "Princess," he said, "you were perfect."        They smiled at each other a moment more, then he stood up and pulled the duvet over her.  They both needed a shower, but she looked exhausted, and he decided it could wait until morning.  He left her briefly to go downstairs for another glass of water, which he made her finish, then stripped to his boxers, turned the lamps off and slipped into the bed next to her.  He could tell she wanted to snuggle up to him, but she very correctly hesitated to do so without permission, so he benevolently held out his arm, allowing her to wiggle up against his side and lay her head in the crook of his shoulder.        Marie sighed with contentment.  She couldn't remember having ever felt so pleasantly exhausted.  A little unnerved by her own boldness, she slipped one naked leg over his, snuggling her still-burning crotch up against his hard thigh.  She could feel her blood start to quicken again in arousal, but before she could get distressed about it, she was asleep.

READING ALLOWED, Part 6

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

            Marie awoke with a start.  This was a shock in itself, as usually for her the transition from sleep to waking was a slow, drifting affair filled with vague half-dreams which vanished as soon as she opened her eyes.  This time she went from sweet non-existence to wide-eyed alertness with a gasp and inadvertently tried to sit up…

            …Only to have every joint and muscle in her body shriek with pain and stiffness, and she groaned out loud as she fell back and attempted to remain completely still in order to calm her raging nerve-ends.  She closed her eyes, and in an instant everything that had happened the night before came rushing back into her mind.  Oh god, the things she had done, and said; the things she had allowed him to…begged him to do to her!

Eyes still shut, she carefully lifted her hand to touch the collar around her neck, and was ashamed to feel a rush of heat between her legs.  Tears began to leak from under her eyelids.  What had happened to her?  How had she gone from being Marie, a nice, ordinary college student with a few kinky fantasies—all right, a lot of kinky fantasies—to this?  In the space of two days she had completely surrendered herself—her individuality, her will, and every shred of dignity—to become little more than an animal.

His animal.

Her eyes snapped open and she found herself looking into the blue depths of his eyes.  He was leaning on his elbow looking down at her.  They looked at each other in silence for a long moment.  He brought his hand to her face and gently wiped away the tears with his thumb.  He leaned down and kissed her forehead.  Then he got out of bed.

Marie followed him with her eyes, still not daring to move.  He walked, still wearing only his shorts, into what was apparently the bathroom and a moment later Marie heard water running into a bath.  She heard the toilet flush.

He came out again and stood by her side of the bed.  He crouched down, then knelt and lifted her in his arms as gently as if she were a newborn baby.  He stood and effortlessly carried her into the bathroom and carefully placed her on the toilet.  He remained standing in front of her, folded his arms and looked at her expectantly.

Marie fidgeted uncomfortably.  It felt very strange to be sitting on the toilet totally naked, and she was suddenly self-conscious.  He'd seen her naked for hours last night, of course, but now, in the bright light of morning, in the brightly-lit bathroom, with him staring at her, it was awful.  She could feel herself blushing as she kept her eyes on the floor, her thighs clamped tightly together.  She knew she'd peed in front of him the night before, in the parking lot, for God's sake, but at least it had been dark…she didn't think she could do it again.  Maybe she could pretend she didn't need to go.  But her bladder was aching…

"Look at me."  His tone brooked no refusal, and Marie reluctantly met his eyes, not wanting to ruin the pleasure she'd felt last night at being back in his good graces.  His eyes were implacable, his face stern and serious.  "Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs—and don't make me tell you again," he added.

Miserably, Marie did as she was told, blushing even more as she saw his gaze dart down to her pussy and back to her face.  When she was exposed to his liking, he smiled, a bit smugly, she thought, and said, "Now, go."

Marie's body obeyed, to her surprise, and released an embarrassingly loud stream of urine into the toilet.  She managed to keep her eyes on his, barely, although she couldn't hold back a little moan of distress as she let him witness this most private of acts.  Only a sheer effort of will prevented her from snapping her legs closed the second she was done—instead, she painfully held her position until he indicated the toilet paper with a nod of his head and turned his back.

Thank God, Marie thought as she finished up.  He was testing the bath water, adjusting the faucets, and she stood up to flush, wincing as her sore muscles protested.  She was incredibly stiff, and she looked at the huge bathtub with trepidation, wondering how she was going to force her body to climb in.  The steaming water looked so deliciously inviting…

Her Master turned back to her, scooped her up, and set her down in the tub all in one smooth motion.

Holy shit, it was hot!  Marie struggled frantically to get out of the scalding water, but with her legs weak and sore as they were, it was only too easy for him to hold her down.  He watched sweat break out on her forehead as her skin turned pink from the heat.  He knew the water wasn't hot enough to burn her, but it had to be uncomfortable.  He smiled as he watched her fight to keep quiet, biting her lip to keep from begging him to let her up, whimpering helplessly instead.  God, he loved making her suffer like this—loved watching her take it without complaint, knowing she was doing it just for him, to please him.

But the water gradually cooled and soon Marie was relaxing in the soothing warmth, the heat easing the aches in her body.  She thought she might die of pleasure when he knelt next to the tub and gently eased her head down into the water to wet her hair, then began to massage shampoo into her scalp.        

He washed her all over, running a soapy sponge over every inch of her skin.  He made her rise to her hands and knees, then spent long minutes washing her ass and between her legs.  He slid soap-slick fingers into her asshole and pussy, loving her moans as his hands reawakened both her soreness and her arousal.  He tickled her armpits, pulled her nipples, and gently washed her face, and she stayed still and obedient.

Marie should have felt pampered and relaxed, but the proprietary way he touched her body made her restless and horny instead.  She tried to sneak a glance at his crotch, to see if his cock was as hard as she hoped it was, but couldn't see it over the rim of the tub.  She realized she was fantasizing about it, couldn't wait to have it inside her again.  But if last night had taught her nothing else, at least she knew it was entirely up to him when she got to experience sexual pleasure, and when she'd only get frustration.  Her mind churned busily as she tried to come up with a way to make him fuck her, without pissing him off.  She pictured him slamming her up against the bathroom wall, driving into her from behind, holding her with his arm across her throat, making her back arch…

"How are you feeling now, princess?"

His voice, interrupting her fantasy, startled her so much that she blurted out, "Oh, God, Sir, I'm so fucking horny!"

He laughed out loud and Marie blushed furiously, then smiled ruefully back at him.  He said, "That's not surprising, princess, but I wanted to know how your leg muscles felt."

"Much better, Sir," she said shyly.

"And what did you think about last night?"

He thought she'd respond with her customary hesitation, and was surprised when she leaned back in the tub, stretched luxuriously, and said, "Oh, it was horrible."  Her sly grin and the way she peeked at him from beneath her eyelashes gave the lie to her words.  Her nipples, hard and pink, rose out of the water as she stretched.  She was trying to provoke him!  "Little brat," he growled, and abruptly pulled the plug, managing not to smile, though his mouth twitched suspiciously.

"Please, Sir, can I wash you now?"  Her voice was back to normal, now, appropriately apprehensive, and, in this case, disappointed that the bath was over.

"No," he said curtly, lifting her out of the tub, trying to ignore the feel of her sleek, slippery body as she fell against him, her wet hands clutching his shoulders as her feet searched for the floor.  He grabbed a towel and dried her roughly, secretly amused by the nervous glances she kept shooting at him.

He hung up the towel and steered her toward the bathroom door.  “Make us some breakfast, princess,” he said, not ungently, and sent her on her way with a hefty swat to her behind.  Then he went to turn on the shower.

Marie hesitated at the top of the stairs.  So she was just supposed to walk around his place naked, in broad daylight, in front of all those windows?  She didn’t even know where her clothes were.

But that was the least of her worries.  Her Master was about to find out that she couldn’t cook worth a damn.

Biting her lip with concern, she looked around until she spied the entrance to the kitchen and hurried in.  It was as well appointed as every other part of the house she’d seen: spacious and sunny, with up-to-the-minute appliances, pans and cooking implements hanging neatly in rows, a butcher-block cabinet in the center and a breakfast table and chairs placed next to a set of windows that reached almost from floor to ceiling.  Looking out, Marie saw that they were in what was once an industrial district, though there were signs of gentrification everywhere. 

She could see the street, but the penthouse was high enough that she needn’t be concerned about being seen.  She was a little disappointed.  On a whim she stood before the windows, legs apart and hands locked behind her head.  The sun felt wonderful on her naked body.  Look at Master’s new slave, she told the world.  The thought troubled her for a moment.  Had there been other slaves before her?  Or—horror struck her—were there others now?

The truth was, Marie still wasn’t sure how this relationship was going to work.  She knew he was calling the shots, and that was how she liked it, but there had to be parameters—right?  She wasn’t sure what the boundaries were, but one thing she was sure of: she wanted him all to herself.  It may not be very submissive of her, she thought stubbornly, but she was not prepared to share her Master.

The sound of the shower shutting off upstairs jolted Marie out of her thoughts.  He was already done showering and she hadn’t so much as opened the refrigerator!  She raced to the fridge and started frantically looking for something she knew how to cook.  He had eggs—but she was pretty bad with eggs.  They always came out too runny, or the yolks would break when they weren’t supposed to.  She found pancake mix in a cabinet, but recalled grimly how dismal her last attempt at pancakes had been.  Toast, she thought desperately, at last.  Surely she couldn’t ruin toast.

But the only bread he had was some fancy kind, not sliced sandwich bread like she always bought for herself.  She tried cutting it into thin, toast-able slices and stuck two of them into the toaster.  She was afraid she’d burn it if she didn’t watch it carefully, since she wasn’t sure what setting to use for this special bread.  She leaned her elbows on the counter and peered into the toaster.  While she watched, Marie started to wonder what her Master might be doing upstairs.  Maybe he’d bring some more interesting toys with him, she thought hopefully.  She wanted badly for him to tie her up again, but she was afraid he’d think she was still too sore from last night.  Maybe she could do something to show him how spry she felt…

Click!  The toaster popped, and Marie snapped to attention, eagerly reaching for the bread to see how it had turned out.  But to her dismay, the bread was stuck down in the toaster.  It hadn’t popped up!  Had she cut it too thickly?  How was she supposed to get it out?  Marie grabbed a butter knife and went to fish the bread out with it, but suddenly wondered if she could get electrocuted if she did that.  She unplugged the toaster, but was still afraid to stick the knife inside. Was there residual electricity, or something?  Taking a deep breath, she finally went for it, but when she’d managed to get one piece of toast out, it was in several pieces, and had made a huge mess of crumbs all over the counter and down inside the toaster.  What’s more, the edges were definitely burned.  She looked dubiously at the other slice, still stuck inside.  She couldn’t just leave it in there.  She started to feel a little panicky.  And what the hell was she going to cook now?

He hadn’t made any particular effort to be quiet on the way downstairs, but she didn’t seem to hear him, apparently completely absorbed in whatever she was doing in the kitchen.  Her back was to him.  He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, and she jumped a foot, gasping in fright.  He continued to hold her by the shoulders until she settled down.

Marie watched him looking past her at the toaster.  Timidly, not daring to breathe, she looked back over her shoulder and raised her eyes to his, trying to look contrite instead of merely terrified.  He looked back at her with one eyebrow lifted and a humorous twinkle in his eye, and Marie, relieved, began to smile back at him.  At which point he slammed her, face down, onto the counter, grabbed her wrists with one hand and began walloping her behind with the other. 

He gave her ten full-strength swats, which were so vigorous that the top of her head bumped into the wall with each blow.  Then he released her just long enough to seize her by the hair and jerked her upright, gasping, before picking her up bodily, carrying her across the kitchen and dropping her onto the table.

It was small enough so that her legs dangled over the edge, and he reached between them with both hands to jerk her thighs apart as far as they would go, giving a slap to the inside of each thigh to remind her to stay put.  He came around to the other end, grabbed each of her hands and wrapped them around the legs of the table there, as far down as she could reach.  Marie didn’t have to be told to grasp them—by now his power over her was stronger than any rope.  She would lie there like that until she was given permission to move, no matter what.

When he was satisfied with her positioning he turned away without a word and began making breakfast.  Marie watched in awe as he cracked eggs, grated cheese, diced vegetables and whipped up a perfect omelet in no time at all.  The smell made her mouth water; she could barely remember the last time she’d eaten—it felt like days ago.  She hoped desperately that he wasn’t planning to eat the entire omelet himself and leave her starving.

He deftly transferred the omelet to a plate then busied himself gathering silverware—Marie noted with dismay that he only pulled out one set from the drawer—and pouring juice.  One glass.

He brought everything over and laid his place setting on the table, between her spread thighs.  He left the kitchen for a moment, returning with a newspaper in his hands before pulling out his chair and sitting at the table.  He picked up his plate with one hand and, using his fork, slid the omelet onto Marie’s lower abdomen.  It was still quite warm but not enough to burn.  He returned his plate to the table then used his fork to cut off a piece of the omelet and lift it to his mouth, watching her steadily as he did so.

Then he unfolded his newspaper and began to read.

Marie struggled not to fidget.  It was a strain to keep her legs open this wide and she was impatient.  How long was he going to make her stay like this?  Why was he eating so goddamned slowly?  And how could he eat with her pussy staring him in the face?

But then, he wasn’t really looking at her, Marie realized, staring morosely at the newspaper that hid his face.  She was nothing but a plate to him.  The sense of objectification this thought produced made her pussy tighten in arousal, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the table, unable to keep from sighing audibly.  She felt his fork scraping gently on her stomach and an answering spasm between her legs.  Her ass throbbed slightly as the heat gradually faded from her punished skin, and she pictured him spanking her over the counter as he just had, taking her by surprise so that by the time she’d overcome her shock it was over—she hadn’t even cried out.  Now, lying spread for him, ignored by him, her imagination started to run wild again.  She wanted him to spank her pussy, too—she could picture his hand crashing down again and again, bringing her just to the edge, forcing her to hold her legs open for him while he did it.  Her hands tightened on the table legs, and her hips rose slightly without her even being aware of it.

Just then her stomach growled, loudly.  Her eyes snapped open, and she looked quickly at the newspaper.  His eyes were twinkling over the top of it, but Marie knew better than to feel relieved this time.  Just because he was amused didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish her.

He was thinking that he’d never had a sub who made him laugh this much.  She didn’t have an ounce of guile in her, and her totally transparent reactions were priceless.  And if her face didn’t give her away, her body did.  He hadn’t missed her squirming as his objectification of her turned her on.

“Good,” he said suddenly, referring to her growling stomach.  “I was starting to think you were enjoying this too much.”  He watched her blush and drop her head back down to the table, avoiding his gaze.  He sighed, looked at the barely-touched omelet and then, to Marie’s surprise, slid it gently off her stomach and back to the plate it had been on.  She went rigid as she felt his beard tickling her, then his lips and tongue were moving over her skin, licking up the slight sheen of oil where the omelet had rested.  Her breath caught.

But all too soon he stopped and said curtly, “Get up.”

Marie scrambled off the table, worried.  Was he mad that her growling stomach had interrupted her efforts to grin and bear it?  Or was he annoyed at her for getting horny when she was supposed to be a plate?

He pointed at the spotless tile floor next to his chair, ordering her to kneel.  She did so as gracefully as she could, remembering to spread her legs and put her hands behind her back, but as usual she got no acknowledgement from him.  Again she noticed the sense of security, of rightness, that kneeling at his feet brought her, but she didn’t get to enjoy it.  His eyes were fierce as they bored into hers, making her nervous.

“Princess,” he began, and his voice was menacingly smooth, “what were my orders to you upstairs?”

“To—to make breakfast,” she stammered, visibly ill at ease.

“Yes.  And why did you fail—” He paused for emphasis.  “So utterly?”

Marie blanched.  “I—I can’t cook, Sir,” she hurried to explain.  “I never could.  I’m terrible.”

He fought back a smile.  He’d seen the evidence of that.  She couldn’t even make toast.  “That’s not what I meant, princess.”

She frowned in confusion, unsure what he was getting at.

“Let me put it this way,” he went on.  “When you came downstairs, did you immediately obey me, or did you take your sweet time about it?”

Marie cringed.  She had been daydreaming a lot.  He was out of the shower before she’d even started.  When he left her body burning and unsatisfied, it was so hard to concentrate… “I was just so horny, Sir…” she whispered, hanging her head.

“That’s not going to work this time!” he snapped, his voice rising.  “I expect to be obeyed immediately, as I’ve told you repeatedly, not when you get around to it.  And I don’t want to hear any excuses.  What you should be doing, slave, is apologizing.”

Marie’s pulse had jumped at the sound of that word, which he’d never used with her until now, but she barely had time to think about it.  Tears pricked her eyes as she realized that, again, she was doing everything wrong.  Instead of begging his forgiveness, she’d been trying to come up with an excuse.  “I’m so sorry, Sir,” she whispered, miserable.  “I—” She’d been about to promise to never do it again, but he interrupted her.

“It’s too late,” he snapped.  Two tears escaped to roll down her cheeks, but he ignored them, continuing, in a calm voice again, “We have a problem, don’t we, princess?  I’m planning to keep you in a constant state of arousal.  I want you to be desperately horny all the time.  But if you can’t follow simple orders because you can’t think of anything but cock…”  He let his voice trail off, laden with meaning. He didn’t guess how disastrously she’d interpret his words.

Marie’s face crumpled.  A sob caught in her throat as she threw herself forward, frantically kissing the tops of his feet, as he’d made her do last night.  “Please don’t make me leave you, Master!” she cried.  “I’ll do better, I promise!”

He grabbed her hair and pulled her upright.  “Calm down, princess,” he said, his tone showing some of his exasperation.  “I wasn’t planning to kick you out.  I just meant that we have some training to do.”

Her tears dried as if by magic.  “Oh,” she whispered, embarrassed.  He released her hair and she settled back into her kneeling position.  He shook his head, bemused.  She was certainly a handful, for a girl so naturally inclined to submission.

“As I was saying, we need to work on this.  Do you agree, princess?”  It was a subtle hint but she caught on right away.

“Yes, Master,” she breathed, “please teach me to obey you better.”

“Very good,” he approved, and she felt her heart swell with the praise.  “Now,” he went on, “spread your pussy for me, princess.”

She’d thought she was ready for this, but Marie swallowed hard.  Jesus, how could he say things like that to her and expect her to respond with equanimity?  Tentatively she moved one trembling hand around to her pussy and used her thumb and fingers to pull her lips out and up, just as he had last night when he was torturing her with the vibrator.  Her heart pounded and her breath came in little gasps.

“Good.  Now, use your other hand to rub your clit.”  He saw her eyes go wide and waited. 

Marie brought her other hand forward, but then she froze.  She’d never touched herself in front of someone before.  She’d thought peeing in front of him was bad, but this was much worse, much more private.  But she couldn’t fail him again—she just had to make herself do it.  Good God, she’d probably already waited too long.  Biting her lip nervously, she brought her middle finger to her clit and started to strum it lightly.  Within seconds her hips were straining to roll, beginning a familiar rhythm, and Marie fought panic as she wondered how long he’d make her do this.

“Good,” he said again.  “Now keep that up.  I don’t care how fast or slow you do it, but I want to see your hand moving.  And keep yourself well spread so I can see.”

Marie moaned, moving her fingers as slowly as she dared, feeling her clit growing impossibly hard already.  Her nipples, too, were hard as diamonds, and her face flamed as she imagined what she must look like to him. 

He had turned back to the table for a moment, and now he held a deliciously fragrant bit of omelet to her lips.  She took it carefully, concentrating on continuing to masturbate while she chewed and swallowed.  Her empty stomach contracted, wanting more.  He took a bite himself, then fed her another one.  He repeated this a few more times, watching her carefully.  When her hand started to speed up without her seeming to realize it, he ordered, “Stop.”  With a cry of distress, she did as she was told, her slippery fingers poised above her aching clit.  “Now finger yourself,” he said.

It was supremely challenging for Marie not to touch her clit now, when she was dying to rub the heel of her hand against it, at the very least.  But the new sensations as she finger fucked herself started to take over, even as she mechanically ate the bites of breakfast he fed her, and even drank some orange juice as he held the glass for her.  “What a hungry little slut,” he commented, and when she just groaned in humiliation he reached out to pinch one of her nipples.  “Aren’t you?” he added, hinting.

“Yes, Sir, I’m a hungry slut,” she choked out, breathing hard.

  When the plate was empty, he looked significantly down at her thighs and said, “Open.”

Marie looked down and gasped, hurriedly spreading her thighs again.  She hadn’t even realized they had been inching closer together, making it easier for her to buck her hips as she humped her own hand.  Her face felt hot, but she knew the shame was contributing to the incredible desire she felt.

“Now your clit again, princess.”

Panting and whimpering, Marie did as he said, her eyes closing, her face a mask of lust.  She had risen up on her knees, her pelvis thrusting obscenely. 

“Stop.”

Marie’s eyes flew open, her hand frozen in mid-stroke.

His gaze bore into her.  “Did I tell you to close your eyes?”

She wanted to hang her head in shame but didn’t dare move.  “No, Sir,” she whispered hoarsely.  “I’m sorry.”

He drew up a chair and sat directly in front of her.  He reached down and batted her hand away from her pussy, then roughly shoved three of his fingers inside her.  With his free hand he seized her hair and jerked her head back.  He leaned into her face.  “You…will…learn,” he said, softly.

       Marie’s heart pounded.  She never felt more like his property than when he had her like this, painfully impaled, held motionless and mesmerized by his fierce eyes.  A helpless little sound came from her throat.

       Hearing her whimper, and seeing the way her body arched instinctively to try to escape the intrusion in her pussy, he had an idea.  One more little game, he thought, then he’d get the day started.  Still staring into her eyes, he ordered, “Now fuck me.”

       He watched her eyes widen and her face heat as she took his meaning.  “That’s right,” he went on.  “Fuck yourself on my fingers, princess… just like a little slut who can’t help herself.”  He felt her pussy clench in reaction to the humiliation and he smiled inwardly.  It was a predictable response, but with her these reactions were so new, so primitive.  She still had no idea what she was, what she needed.  Yes, he thought to himself as she began to grind herself up and down on his hand, grunting as she accommodated the width of his fingers, I’ve got a treasure here.

       

READING ALLOWED, Part 7

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

One hour later, Marie was feeling decidedly cranky.  Her wrists were cuffed securely to her collar, held there by short lengths of chain, so that her hands dangled impotently at the level of her shoulders.  Her ankles were hobbled by an 18-inch length of chain, enough slack that she could walk around, but only by taking ridiculous, mincingly short steps.  And there was an uncomfortably large ball gag in her mouth, pulled cruelly tight and locked into place at the back of her head.

       But that wasn’t the worst of it, Marie thought morosely as she stared into the supply cabinet in the laundry room.  No, worst of all was that he’d ordered her to clean his house--as if she were his maid, or as if this were an appropriate task for her just because she was a woman.  Marie admitted that she loved being subservient to him in bed…but this sucked.  She hated housework.  She barely kept up with cleaning her own apartment, and now she was supposed to make this giant place spic and span.

       “Especially the bathrooms,” he’d said.  “And, princess, make sure you’re thorough—I’m going to inspect.”  He’d shown her the closeted alcove housing the washer and dryer and cleaning supplies.  Then he’d left.

       This was after she fucked herself almost to a climax on his fingers, only to have him pull them away at the last minute.  While she panted in frustration, he positioned her kneeling again, sitting back on her heels.  He placed her hands palm-down on her thighs, nudged her legs a little further open, then said merely, “Don’t move.”

       Marie had listened with dismay to the sound of his footsteps going up the stairs.  Diligently she’d held still, using every ounce of her willpower to keep from touching her aching sex.  But as the minutes ticked by, the restless heat of her pussy became the least of her problems.  Her knees and the front of her ankles, bearing the brunt of her weight, began to hurt.  Her thighs ached from being folded strenuously beneath her.  Before long, Marie wanted nothing in the world but to be able to stand up, or shift her weight at the very least. How long had she been sitting like this, anyway?  Her eyes darted around, searching for a clock, but she couldn’t see one from her position on the floor.  Did shifting her weight from knee to knee count as moving?  Would he know if she did it?  Marie had been sorely tempted, but with her back to the stairs, she knew he could be watching her.  Besides, even if he didn’t witness it, he’d know if she had cheated.  He could read her so easily…

       So, she had waited, and she had obeyed.  It had felt like she’d been waiting there for an hour, her knees and ankles screaming for relief, when he finally came to stand in front of her.  She bit her lip to keep from begging, and when he at last said, “You can get up,” she was so relieved she fell forward onto her hands, pressing her lips to his shoes and gasping, “Oh, thank you, Master!”

       She had stood up shakily, rubbing her sore knees, and to her surprise he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her, saying, “I think I should punish you more often.”  Marie had blushed, knowing he was referring to her effusive display of gratitude, but before she could think too much about his words he had brought out the cuffs. And the chains and the gag.  And then he had steered her over to the laundry closet and left her, hobbled, still horny, and utterly dismayed at the task before her.

           There was a dark blue, rectangular plastic basket of laundry at her feet.  She stared down at it then flinched in disgust as a thread of drool escaped from around the ball-gag in her mouth and fell onto the pile of clothes.  She jerked her head upright, which meant that the remaining drool draped itself over her chin.  She tried to say, “Shit!” but only succeeded in making an imbecilic grunt.  She groaned out loud.  She had been reduced to the level of an inarticulate, chained animal, left alone in the house like a neglected pet.  A pet who was expected to do the housework as well.

           And she was going to do it.  There was no doubt about that.  All right, god damn it, she thought to herself.  The bottle of laundry detergent was sitting on top of the dryer and Marie found that by tilting to the right and leaning down she was able to grasp and unscrew the cap.  She placed it carefully next to the bottle then without changing her stance moved to the right and awkwardly lifted the lid of the washing machine.  She returned to the bottle, grasped it by the neck and managed to pour some detergent into the washer.  Along with another streamer of drool.  Well, so what.

           She returned the bottle to its spot and replaced the cap.  Now, how to get the laundry into the machine?  She knelt and leaned the same way as she had before.  She grasped as many clothes as she could with one hand, then realized it would take forever if she had to pick up a few items at a time, stagger to her feet and drop them into the machine.  She hesitated only a moment…then plunged her face into the pile of laundry.  She was now able to use both hands to scoop up a much bigger batch of clothes and hold them as she rose again to her feet.

           Oh, but now they were all pressed against her face…and they all smelled of him.  Her nostrils filled with the scent of his musk, his sweat and even, it seemed to her, a faint trace of his semen.  She stood, trembling, pressing his clothes more tightly against her face and breathing him in with deep inhalations.  Her nipples popped erect and suddenly, without warning, her loins flooded with moisture.  Oh god, she was going to…no, she mustn’t!  Oh, but she needed it so badly, he had tortured her then left without letting her come…  But he would know, oh god, he would know, she was sure of it!  But it was too late; she could feel the orgasm racing up her spine…  NO!

           She flung the clothes away from her face, half of them falling onto the machine and the rest falling back into the basket.  She clenched her hands into fists, digging the nails into her palms until they bled, falling to her knees again, gasping as she fought off the orgasm she so desperately wanted.  At long last it subsided and she groaned through her ball gag, drool and now sweat running down her face.

           This was going to be really hard.

       After she’d finished the laundry and wiped down the kitchen with great difficulty, Marie was exhausted.  She hoped to God her Master didn’t think she was going to clean the whole place.  Not only did her chains make every task a thousand times more arduous and humiliating, but wearing those same bonds meant that she had no chance of calming her persistent arousal.  Her mind ran riot with visions of him holding her down and fucking her, bending her over the kitchen counter as he had earlier, or perhaps back over the table, pushing her bound legs over his shoulder and ramming himself into her, ignoring her muffled screams of shock, then pleasure…

       Get a grip!  Marie mentally willed herself to calm down.  Wildly she considered humping some piece of furniture—if she could just come, maybe she could focus again.  But despite how much he’d humiliated her just that day, she balked at resorting to such crude, animal-like behavior.  Besides, he’d know, she knew he’d know, and maybe this time he would decide he’d had enough of her.  She’d just have to suffer.

       It would help if she had some idea of when he was coming back, so she could prioritize her chores, but he’d given her none.  Where had he gone, anyway?  To the bookstore?  Looking around, Marie again wondered how owning the store could possibly be lucrative enough for him to live in a place like this.  There had to be more to the story.

       Suddenly Marie spied a door she hadn’t paid much attention to before now, sort of tucked away near the stairs.  His study!  It had to be.  She hadn’t seen a computer yet and he had to be keeping it somewhere.  Heart pounding with excitement, Marie inched her way towards the door.  She was dying to find out more about her enigmatic Master, and there must be some clues in his home office.  He hadn’t told her not to clean in there.

       But even as she bent awkwardly to twist the knob, Marie trembled at her own boldness.  He may not have told her not to go in his study, but somehow she knew it was off-limits—especially since she was sneaking in here to snoop, not to clean.  She didn’t even have so much as a duster with her.  If he should walk in right now…  Marie shuddered to think of his anger.

       But she was dying to find out something about him.  She was at such a disadvantage—he seemed to know her every thought, while she knew nothing about him.  She didn’t know if he had a family, when his birthday was—hell, she didn’t even know his last name, Marie realized.

       Feeling more determined, she eased her way into the room, hardly daring to breathe lest she somehow disturb his things, leaving a clue she’d been here.  Sure enough, there was a massive mahogany desk with a brand-new, shiny Mac atop it.  Three of the walls were dominated by shelves holding, not books this time, but hundreds of CDs and records.  Marie longed to browse the titles, but forced herself to focus so she could get out of here as quickly as possible.

       There was a paper tray on one side of the desk containing a pile of what looked like mail.  Mincing forward as fast as she could, Marie went to examine it.  The letter on top was unopened and had his full name typed on the envelope.  The return address was for a well-known human rights Foundation.  Slowly and with elaborate care, Marie lifted the letter to peer at the one beneath it.  This one was not in an envelope, but it was folded.  Laying the first letter aside, with her pulse crashing in her ears, Marie carefully unfolded it and quickly scanned the contents.

       It was a statement, listing the monetary balance in some type of fund—not a bank account, Marie thought.  Her eyes boggled at the sum.  If this was his account, then the man was filthy rich.  And this probably wasn’t all of it, Marie thought, suddenly putting two and two together.  She hadn’t taken much notice of his last name—it was common enough.  But there was one particular family of that name notorious for their high society antics and flagrant displays of wealth.  The children, now in middle age, were that way, at least.  The family owned a massive media and publishing conglomerate the patriarchal grandfather had been building into an empire for several decades.

       Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that her Master, rolling in money as he seemed to be, shared their name.  Marie tried to recall how many children there were, and if he’d been one of them, but that would have been news for an older generation and she didn’t know.

       Someone honked a car horn on the street below and Marie started guiltily.  She carefully placed the statement and the letter back on the pile and shuffled out of the room.  As she eased the door closed, Marie half expected to turn and find him standing before her, silently watching her digging her own grave through curiosity.  But she was just as alone as before, and she sighed with relief, shaking as the adrenaline receded.  She had a thousand questions.  With that kind of money, what was he doing here in a coastal college town, running a bookstore and driving an old van?  Why wasn’t he freewheeling throughout Europe like his siblings?  What was he doing with all that money?

       Resolving to Google the family when she got home, Marie firmly bent her mind on housework again.  She tried to figure out a way to prioritize, knowing it was unlikely she’d get to every room before he returned.  “Especially the bathrooms,” he’d said.  Marie grimaced.  Of course he wanted her to scrub toilets.  In fact, he’d probably find something wrong with the job she’d done no matter how spotless the bathroom was, just to watch her do it over again.  Why did even the thought of that turn her on?

       As it turned out, he didn’t have to resort to that.  He came home when Marie was still scrubbing away.

       There was a small bathroom on the ground floor, and she’d done that one first.  A search under the sink revealed the toilet bowl cleaner, and Marie managed to squirt some all around under the rim of the bowl.  She grabbed the toilet brush and knelt in front of the toilet.  In order to get any sort of leverage with the brush, she had to lean far over the bowl, so that her head was hanging directly over the water, uncomfortably close.  She blushed hotly even though no one was there to see her.

       She was sure it would be the same story in the upstairs bathroom, but first she had to get up the stairs.  She quickly discovered that her hobble chain was too short for her to climb them normally, by walking.  Sighing in annoyance, she finally turned around and sat on the lowest step, pushing against the floor with her feet to lift her butt up to the next one.  She made her way laboriously upstairs like this, backwards.

       By this point, Marie was starting to get mad.  Goddamn him, she was bored, lonely, uncomfortable, tired, and so horny she couldn’t think straight.  Her jaw hurt, her knees were sore from kneeling, and her nipples seemed to be permanently hard and sensitive, driving her crazy with the need to touch them, though of course she couldn’t.  Meanwhile, he was probably out having a perfectly interesting and relaxing day.  Bound and ignored housekeeper was not the position she’d signed up for.

       Still, Marie didn’t even consider defying his orders.  She’d clean his stupid bathroom and she’d clean it excellently, but if he didn’t give her some attention when he got back she was going to—well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but surely something drastic was in order.

       

       He wasn’t surprised that his little slave seemed completely absorbed in her task when he got back.  He’d seen how abstracted she could get that morning, especially when she was doing something that bored her, and he was sure housework was as boring to her  as cooking.  At the sight of her he smiled in genuine amusement.  She was on her knees on the cold tile floor, bent awkwardly over the toilet, her breasts squashed against the porcelain, her head practically inside the bowl as she wielded the scrubbing brush with her captive hands.  Without making a sound, he leaned against the door frame, watching attentively, unwilling to interrupt the show.

       But something about his presence must have eventually registered with Marie, because she suddenly sat up straight and turned her head, and when she saw him a muffled shriek escaped her gagged mouth.  Jerking in surprise, she dropped the toilet brush, which fell into the bowl, splashing her face.  As she wiped the water off her cheeks, Marie quickly dropped her eyes, but not before he saw the resentment burning in them.  She was mad at him.  Well, that was fine, as long as she hadn’t made herself come.  He’d know soon enough.

       He waited while she struggled into position, the chains just barely allowing her to clasp her hands behind her head as she knelt before him and spread her thighs.  Her anger was now only obvious in her breathing and he looked her over, taking note of the various scratches, red marks and bruises she had accumulated during the day, the dried spittle on her chin.  She had obviously been obedient to his instructions about cleaning the house—but the other?  He stepped closer, almost between her legs, and seizing her chin tilted her face up so that she would have to meet his gaze.

       As always, the instant Marie looked into his eyes she felt completely exposed to him, as if her every thought and memory was on display. For one terrifying moment she was sure he knew she’d been snooping in his office and she felt an irresistible urge to begin babbling apologies and excuses.  But then she clamped down on the impulse and instead allowed her anger to blaze in her eyes, knowing it would distract him.

       She was right.  His face became a mask of mock-concern.  “Oh, has my little pet had a hard day?” he asked.  He placed both hands on her head and began to massage her aching jaws with his thumbs.  It felt wonderful.  Or at least it did until he moved his thumbs to her mouth and began pushing the ball-gag against the back of her throat.

Christ, he was choking her!  Her chained hands plucked ineffectually at his as he pressed harder; she began to gag and gasp through her nose, tears running down her face.

       Then the pressure was gone as he unlocked the gag and ripped it from her mouth, and before she could recover he had seized her by the collar and dragged her over to the toilet.  He pushed her face down into the bowl, right into the water, and held it there while he gave her three extremely painful swats on the behind with the bristled end of the toilet brush.  Then he jerked her out by the hair and dropped her back into an approximation of her original position.  He waited while she caught her breath then seized her hair again and forced her to meet his gaze.

       “Is there something you wish to say to me?” he asked.  He released his hold and stepped back, his gaze burning into hers.

       Marie couldn’t face him like this.  She threw herself down and grasped his ankles, sobbing.  She kissed his feet.  She turned her dripping face up to his and whispered, “Thank you for letting me clean your house today…Master.”

READING ALLOWED, Part 8

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

       Marie felt wretched.  While he was gone, it had been easy to nurture her feelings of resentment towards him for leaving her alone all day, tied up and bored, and suffering acutely from her unsatisfied lust.  As the long day had worn on, her jaw aching more by the hour, her stomach growling, her body cold and bruised and her head more often than not in one of his toilets, Marie’s frustration had grown and grown.  She’d even started to feel like she was justified in snooping around in his study.  After all, she’d given up her whole weekend for him and he hadn’t even seen fit to stay at home! 

       Marie hadn’t been able to form any kind of resolve about how she was going to behave when her Master came home, other than the vague idea that she certainly deserved some attention from him and would be prepared to communicate just that if she didn’t get any.  But her resolution wavered the second she sensed him in the bathroom.  He’d startled her, standing there so quietly while she worked, squashed up against the toilet for all the world as if she were embracing it.  She’d dropped the cleaning brush and it had splashed her, and just like that, she was at a disadvantage.  As usual.

       As she’d struggled to kneel the way he liked, Marie tried to cope with the confusing riot of emotions that she was feeling.  On the one hand, she was still mad at him, anxious to show him that she didn’t appreciate his leaving her; on the other, his presence overwhelmed her, intruded even on her carefully nourished anger, and all her instincts were screaming at her to throw herself at his feet and show him her joy and relief that he’d returned.  Her desire to have her suffering acknowledged by him warred with the desire to suffer still more, to do anything he wanted as long as he would smile at her and tell her she was a good girl.  She could feel him studying her and trembled.  Her urge to grovel grew stronger as he approached her, overpowering her with his presence, torturing her with suspense.  As he gripped her chin and raised her face to look in her eyes, Marie had panicked, terrified he’d be able to see her every disloyal, petulant thought, and then she had made the terrible choice to show him her anger.

       How quickly he’d put her in her place, she thought miserably now.  In truth, he’d had all the power from the moment he’d come into the bathroom, had controlled her more efficiently with just his presence than his chains had been able to do throughout the long day.  He stood before her and her body shook with the desire to kneel; he humiliated her and she craved his approval beyond every other need.  She had tried defiance just this once, confronting him with nothing more than the look in her eyes, and his reaction had been immediate, painful and devastatingly effective.  Marie had realized again, with excruciating clarity, that her attitude was still all wrong.  It was her privilege to be allowed to spend the weekend with him, her undeserved honor that he was willing to teach her.  After all, she hadn’t been a very good slave…

       She clung to his ankles, her forehead resting on his feet, trying to control her sobs and hoping against hope that her obvious contrition would mollify his displeasure with her.  At long last, he spoke.

       “You’re getting toilet-water all over my shoes.”

       The mildness of his tone, with its bare hint of amusement, filled her with such relief and delight that Marie felt like scampering around the bathroom and wagging her tail like the good little doggie she wanted to be for him.  But she made herself hold perfectly still for a moment, then slowly raised her face to his again and, trying very hard not to smile, said, “I’m sorry, Master.”

       Yes!  His expression was now one of bemused affection; he was no longer angry with her!  Oh, thank God. 

       He grabbed a hand-towel from a nearby rack, roughly dried her face and hair with it then threw it down on the floor beside her.  Marie knew he was expecting her to use it to dry his shoes. 

Instead she once more lowered her head….and began licking them clean.

It didn’t take long—less than a minute—to complete the task, but something about it, the complete and utter abasement of kneeling at his feet, naked and in chains, licking toilet water from his shoes, was setting her on fire.  She had no time to analyze it—all she knew was she had to have his cock in her mouth—now.

       She sat up.  Her eyes flickered up to him once—he was frowning down at her, but not angrily.  He seemed intent, as if he was trying to guess at her thoughts.  Feeling suddenly sure of herself, Marie leaned forward and placed a kiss on the front of his pants where his erection strained against the fabric.  She nuzzled her cheek there and looked up at him again, holding his gaze this time.  “Please, Master,” she said, “may I suck your cock?”

       They were both a little stunned.  Marie couldn’t believe how strong and confident her voice had sounded.  Her pussy flooded with moisture at the sound of the words; her eyes sparkled with excitement.  Even though he’d just spanked her, even though her hair was wet with toilet water and she was naked and chained, this felt right. 

As for her Master, he couldn’t get his pants open fast enough.  He’d think about what her behavior meant in a few minutes—right now, he focused on Marie’s hot, talented little mouth as she bent to her work.   Good God, it felt like she was trying to swallow him whole!

       Marie was overtaken by a strange sort of frenzy.  It was as if she couldn’t get enough of his cock in her mouth.  Her captive hands reached for his balls and her fingers lifted them, rubbed them, and squeezed them gently all the while her face was pressed against his groin, her throat full of him.  She massaged the spot below his balls and her tongue went into overdrive on his shaft. 

This was one time he wasn’t worried about coming too soon.  He thought he was going to die of pleasure… He lost control as he came, grabbing her head and thrusting himself violently down her throat.  She swallowed gamely, and when he finally opened his eyes, still breathing hard, she was kneeling there smiling at him.

       He could hardly believe it.  She had just begged to be allowed to pleasure him.  She’d begged him before, to gain her own pleasure or because he’d ordered her to, but this was different.  He’d never have expected her to reach this stage of submission so soon.  And he knew she’d been sincere.  Even now, she was still grinning like he’d just given her a present.

       What was it about this girl that she’d gotten under his skin so fast?  To be truthful, he’d come home earlier than he’d planned, anxious to see how his little slave had fared in his absence.  He’d had to conceal a hard-on quite a few times throughout the day, every time he pictured her humping his fingers as she had this morning or the desperate, pleading look on her face when she realized he was going to leave her bound and frustrated.  What a homecoming he’d gotten!  And they still had all evening to spend together before he really ought to be getting her back to campus.  They’d eat first—and then he had a few things he wanted to try.

       Her Master hadn’t said anything, and he’d only given her the briefest of smiles, but Marie knew he was pleased with her.  She tensed just a little as he reached down and hauled her to her feet—grabbing her elbow this time, instead of her hair—surely that was a good sign.  He tossed her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry and headed for the stairs.  Marie felt a little panicky as she realized that, with her hands bound by her neck, she had no way to break her fall if he dropped her, but his grip was firm and the feeling subsided.  Now, as he entered the kitchen—the scene of her imprudence that morning—she just had to worry about what he would do with her next.

       It seemed that they had both learned a lesson from that morning’s encounter: when they reached the kitchen table he simply put her down next to his chair, lifting the table leg to secure the end of her leash as she took her kneeling pose.  He said not one word to her about cooking, and Marie allowed herself a small grin as she watched him preparing dinner.

       It was a simple meal; he steamed some rice and sautéed a few chopped vegetables, tossing in some bits of cold chicken from the refrigerator.  But he added spices like a master chef--a pinch of one, a sprinkle of another, tasting and nodding to himself.  The air began to fill with a deliciously complex aroma and Marie was forcefully reminded that she’d had nothing to eat since breakfast, unless she counted her Master’s come.  If she still had her ball-gag on, she knew, she’d be drooling all over herself.  As it was she simply swallowed hard, kept her position tight and her attention on him, hoping that her stomach wouldn’t gurgle and embarrass her as it had that morning.

       Yet even though she was famished, not to mention ragingly horny, she became aware that underlying all the physical and emotional turbulence lay a very unfamiliar sensation: serenity.  Her needs were no longer her concern—her Master would take care of them in due time, and that’s all she needed to know.  She felt a contented smile creep across her face.

       Her smile only widened when she saw him reach down into a cabinet next to the stove and bring out a shining aluminum dog bowl.  She knew it was for her, and she brushed away the troublesome thought that it already been there and not purchased especially for her.  Maybe he used to have a dog.  Or maybe…no, she would not think about that.  This moment—now—was all there needed to be.

       She gave him her most loving smile as he set the bowl, filled to the brim with steaming food, on the floor beside her before setting his plate on the table.  She followed him with her eyes and then her body, shuffling around on her knees to remain facing towards him as he pulled out his chair and sat.  She gave not the slightest glance to her bowl of food—it was not hers until he said it was.

       When he was settled in place he turned to look at her, and to Marie it was obvious that he was pleased with what he saw: that his slave was simply waiting, giving him her complete and silent attention.  He actually beamed at her and caressed the side of her face with his hand, and Marie felt as though she would melt with happiness.  After a moment he withdrew his hand and said, “You must be starving, princess.  Please go ahead.”

       “Thank you, Master,” Marie replied, wishing she could kiss him just then.  She turned away and bent down to her bowl…and was quite pleased to discover that he had placed it so that while she ate she would be displaying her upraised ass and pussy for his pleasure.  She began to eat.

       Marie’s hands had reached out automatically to steady herself as she bent over the dog bowl, only to be jerked back by the chains holding them to her collar.  She was suddenly mindful of her discomfort again.  She hadn’t been able to straighten her arms for hours, now, and the urge to stretch her elbows was driving her crazy.  Marie tried to focus on the food, which was fragrant and delicious and which she was eating way too fast, but her mind kept wandering.  Would he let her spend the night again?  She could get all her homework done tomorrow, if she was diligent, and it would be totally worth it if he’d fuck her again tonight, and hold her like he had last night as she fell asleep.

       Before she knew it, Marie found herself licking the bowl clean.  She’d scarfed her dinner down with undignified haste, and blushed rosily as she realized her Master had probably only taken a few civilized bites by now.  She really was just like his pet.  Well, in for a pound...Marie thought, and shuffled on her knees over to his chair to lay her head on his knee.  She held her breath, hoping for some sign of approval from him, and sure enough, a moment later she felt his hand resting lightly on her head.  Another moment passed, and he stroked her hair.  Marie felt her chest expand with happiness.

       Several minutes later, he gently tugged on her hair to get her to sit up.  He held a glass of water for her while she drank, waiting until she had finished it.  He, she saw, was drinking from an expensive-looking bottle of red wine.  A few more minutes passed while he savored his wine, then he stood and retrieved a clean dishcloth, wet it, and came back to clean Marie’s face.  She blushed anew.  She certainly hadn’t been worried about keeping her face clean while she ate, she realized now.  She was vaguely surprised that he did it silently, making no attempt to humiliate her further.  Was that because he had more challenges in store for her later this evening?

       Marie watched as her Master performed only the most rudimentary clean-up of the kitchen.  Leaving the dishes for later didn’t seem like his style, and she smiled to herself, imagining that he was in a hurry to play some more with her—his toy.

       She wasn’t far off, if she’d known it.  The impromptu blow job in the bathroom might as well have never happened for all the difference it made to his cock, which was again hard as a rock.  He deliberately kept the wine bottle in one hand while he freed Marie’s leash from the table leg and led her into the living room.  He knew from experience that if he had a few more swallows he’d be able to last a lot longer, and he definitely wanted to drag this next experience out as long as possible.

       Leaving Marie kneeling in front of his oversized arm chair, he set the wine down on the end table there and went upstairs to get a few supplies.  He was pleased to see, on his way back down, that her eyes hadn’t strayed from the stairway; she was avidly watching for his return.  The apprehension in her gaze was adorable, and as he sat in the chair in front of her he took a moment just to look her over.  Then he leaned forward and unlocked the chains at her wrists. 

He watched her eyes fill with tears as she tried, with excruciating slowness, to straighten her arms for the first time in hours.  He let her struggle for a moment, then he reached for her hands, saying, “It’s easier if you do it all at once”—and yanked her arms straight before she could react.

       Marie gasped, but as the blood flowed freely into her stiff joints, she saw that he was right.  She flexed her arms for a few minutes, unable to keep back a sigh of pleasure as the pain and stiffness eased.

       She wasn’t going to be relieved for long.  “Turn around,” he ordered suddenly, “and give me your hands.”  She obeyed, turning her back to him and holding her hands behind her.  He cuffed them together, then used a leather cinch he’d brought down on her upper arms just above her elbows, pulling it tight and watching her shoulder blades point out and her back arch, hearing her gasp.  He bent to unlock the short chain between her ankles then said, “Face me.”

       Perfect.  His little pet, arching her back to relieve the strain on her arms, looked as if she were presenting her tits for his pleasure.  He was also surprised and pleased to see that she’d spread her knees apart after he’d unlocked them, and he could already see the telltale sheen of moisture on her pussy.  She was panting, but whether it was from arousal or the pain in her bound arms he couldn’t tell.  He leaned back in the chair and took a sip of wine, then said, “What did you think about today, Princess?”

       Her eyes flickered up to his--then she lowered them modestly.  “I missed you, Sir,” she said quietly.

       He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.  “And did you like cleaning the house for me?”

       Marie only debated for a second—he’d know if she lied, she reasoned—but she couldn’t look at him..  “No, Sir.”

       “Why not?”

       “It was—I was bored, Sir,” she stammered.  He could tell she wanted to add something, so he waited.  “But—but I’ll be happy to do it again, Sir, if you let me.”

       “Why is that, Princess?”

       “Because I like…obeying your orders, Sir.”  Her voice nearly died at the end of her reply, but he was satisfied.  This must be the result of the epiphany she’d seemed to have in the bathroom earlier.  Unquestionably, she’d been angry with him before he came home, but now she seemed to have come to a better understanding, and acceptance, of her role as his pet—all on her own.  However, it couldn’t hurt to give her some additional encouragement.

       “And I like giving them to you, pet,” he said, smiling at her.  “You did very well today.”

       He watched her face glow with happiness for a moment, then he brought out the nipple clamps.  These were a different pair than the one she’d worn last night; they had a gentler bite, but came adorned with tacky pink plastic hearts that dangled on a thin, short chain about an inch and a half long.  Remembering her face as she’d looked at the purple, heart-shaped paddle in the store, he guessed that wearing these would humiliate his princess more than wearing the plain ones had.  Indeed, she looked chagrined at the sight of them, but bravely maintained her posture, her chest still thrust towards him invitingly.  He took advantage of that for a few minutes, fondling and teasing, and she didn’t flinch from him even when he twisted and pulled her nipples, although she winced and whimpered a little.  He even slapped her breasts a few times, noting that they were just large enough to bounce when he did it.  This was going to be great.

       Her face flamed as he attached the clips and she felt the dangling hearts brushing against the underside of her breasts.  He thought he’d never get tired of seeing that blush.  He jiggled her breasts, just to rub it in a little, then very deliberately removed his pants and boxers and leaned back in the chair.  Her eyes went wide at the sight of his fully-erect cock, and she actually licked her lips, making him want to laugh.  “Climb on, princess,” he said, some of his amusement leaking into his voice.

       She looked at him like she wasn’t sure he was serious, then stood up eagerly and way too fast. She teetered for a moment, throwing one foot behind her to catch her balance, then more carefully moved toward his chair.  He helped her, reaching for her waist and settling her over his lap, her knees balanced on the chair’s seat on either side of him.  There was plenty of room for her legs on the wide seat, and she looked down into his face as she hovered there, leaning forward slightly to keep her balance.  Her pussy, visibly wet, was mere inches from his upthrust cock, and they were both breathing heavily already.  “Two rules, Princess,” he said, his voice rough with arousal.  “First, you can come as much as you want—but you have to tell me, every time.  Second, I want to see these—” he flicked the dangling hearts on her nipple clamps “—in motion.  If they stop moving, we’re done.  And, Princess, break either rule, and I will punish you.”

       He watched her shudder with desire at his words.  “Yes, Master,” she said, her voice as hoarse as his.  He gripped her hips and helped her lower herself onto him, inch by pleasurable inch.  As their hips finally met, he felt her grinding against him, finally stimulating her clit, which had been aching all day to be touched.  But, mindful of rule number two, she didn’t linger there, but started to ride him, rising up on her knees, then sinking down and taking his whole length again.  It was hard, because with her hands bound behind her, she could rely only on her leg muscles both for balance and to move over him.  Her tummy muscles clenched with her efforts to keep upright and not tip forward or backward.

       She’d only humped him twice when she suddenly threw her head back, moaning, “Oh, oh God, Sir, I’m going to come!”  Her cry ended on a gasp and he felt her clench on him, felt the rush of moisture where their bodies were joined, and it was all he had not to come himself.  “Keep fucking me—keep going, Princess,” he rasped, restraining himself from grabbing her hips and setting his own rhythm.  She started humping him furiously as she rode out her orgasm, her head back and her mouth open, and he watched a fiery blush spread over her face and down her chest.  She didn’t seem to be breathing, but just as he was going to intervene, she sucked in a huge breath of air and slowed down slightly.

       The slower speed was almost better.  He could have sworn she was clenching on him each time she rose up, her pussy squeezing every inch of him as if it were afraid to let go.  He had no idea if she was doing it on purpose or not, but that, combined with the sight of the clamps bouncing on her chest, had him close to coming again within a few seconds.  He couldn’t resist reaching up to pull on the clamps, and that set her off again, and as she started to come she cried, “Sir, oh, I can’t help it, I’m com—”  Again, she lost the end of her sentence as her whole body tensed in rapture.  It lasted even longer this time, and when it finally stopped he was gripping the arms of the chair in a desperate attempt to hold back his own orgasm.

       She didn’t slow this time, but continued to fuck him rhythmically, at an almost frantic pace.  She was putting all she had into it, slamming her pelvis down onto him with each thrust.  Her whole body was covered with a sheen of sweat and her face was beet red.  Her thighs must have been burning by now, but she obviously had more in her.  He wondered what some dirty talk would do to her, so he tried it, growling, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, you horny little cunt!  You can’t help yourself, can you?  Such a dirty slut!”

       It worked—she howled as she started to come again, just barely managing to gasp out, “Com—coming!” before her pussy contracted like a vise.  He felt her squirting again and suddenly couldn’t help himself any longer.  He grabbed her hips and started slamming her down onto his cock himself, grunting as he neared his climax.  She had recovered somewhat and tried to urge him on, saying, “Yes, Master, I’m your dirty slut!”—and then she felt his hot load filling her, and lost herself again.  He might not have seen it, so lost was he in the throes of orgasm, but that she lost her balance, tipping backwards as she closed her eyes against the surprising onslaught of pleasure.  He had to quickly shift his grip to keep her upright, and even as he experienced his final shudders of pleasure, he was thinking of how much he’d enjoy teaching his slave a lesson about breaking the rules.

       

       

READING ALLOWED, Part 9

By lamignonne and Zenmackie

       Marie was still straddling him, eyes closed and trying to catch her breath, her body still shuddering with the pleasure of her final orgasm, when he pushed her off his lap and onto the floor.  With her arms still cinched behind her she had no way to stop her fall or brace herself for the impact, and she cried out as she fell.  She landed flat on her back, wrenching her shoulders painfully in the process, and cried out a second time.

       She was not the least bit puzzled, however.  She knew she had failed to inform him before she came the last time and that there would now be consequences.  There was a moment of apprehension…which to her surprise dissolved almost immediately, absorbed into the pool of serene acceptance which now lay at her core. She didn’t care about anything just then, as she lay on the floor, still shaking with the occasional aftershocks of her climax.  He would punish her, yes. And that was as it should be and she was glad of it.

       As he stood up, seeming to tower over her as she lay looking up at him, she couldn’t help herself:  she gave him a smile that held all the love she felt for him in that moment.

       Amazingly, he didn’t seem angry.  He looked a little exasperated, maybe, as she shook his head at her, then he made an impatient motion with his hand and said curtly, “Turn over.”        

       Marie rolled, with some difficulty, to her stomach, her heart speeding up again as he stood over her at her feet.  He can do anything he wants to me, she thought, shivering in anticipation.  He knows I’ll take it—and thank him afterwards.  She could feel his eyes on her as they both savored her helplessness and subjection.

       She didn’t know what she expected—blows from some mysteriously-appearing implement to start falling on her, maybe—but she was surprised when all he did was reach down and remove the cinch above her elbows.  She sighed in relief as her shoulders relaxed, but he left her hands cuffed.

       He told her to get up and she struggled to her knees first, craning her neck to look up at him as she said quietly, “Thank you for letting me fuck you, Master.”

       He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond, only took her by the elbow once she’d stood and steered her to the stairs.  Once at the top, he gave her a gentle push toward the bathroom.  Suddenly realizing how badly she needed to use the toilet, Marie scampered in, somewhat relieved that he didn’t follow her.  At least he wasn’t going to watch this time.

       But, a few seconds later, Marie made the uncomfortable discovery that with her hands still bound, she had no way to clean herself.  He’d set out a toothbrush for her, she saw—she must be spending the night, she thought happily—but she wouldn’t be able to use it.  Knowing her Master, this was not an oversight.  Well, she had no choice.  “Um, Master?” she called, but her voice came out hoarse and weak.  She tried again.  “Master, will you come and help me—please?”

       He appeared in the doorway—grinning, the bastard.  Marie hurriedly spread her legs and watched him practically swell with satisfaction.

       “Wider,” he ordered, just because he could, and she obeyed him.  He helped her finish up, brushed her teeth for her, even brushed her hair until she was melting under his attentions.  He stood behind her at the sink, and she met his eyes in the mirror as he massaged her sore shoulders, his strong fingers running over her silky skin.  Suddenly unmindful that he didn’t like her to speak out of turn, she blurted, “You’re so handsome, Master!”

       He turned her to face him and tipped her chin up, his twinkling eyes giving the lie to his grave tone.  “Are you trying to flatter me, Princess?”

       Marie’s eyes widened and she hastened to say, “Oh, no, Sir—that is, I was just—just voicing my thoughts.”

       “Good.  Because it won’t get you out of your punishment.”

       She felt her knees go weak—and not with fear.  “You could spank me, Sir,” she breathed.

       He reacted immediately—grabbing her hair, wrenching her head back and swiftly ripping off her nipple clamps with his other hand.  While she gasped in pain, he growled, “What I should do is leash you to the end of the bed and make you sleep on the floor.”

       Marie felt crushed.  Oh, how could she have doubted for a moment that he knew exactly how to punish her, really punish her and make her suffer?  Not getting to share his bed tonight was the worst thing he could do to her right now, when all she wanted was to be close to him, to have his attention.  “Please don’t do that, Master,” she pleaded.  “I’m really, really, sorry—please punish me some other way, please!”

       He watched her bottom lip trembling. God, he loved making her beg, especially beg for punishment, like she was now.  He pushed her back so that she half-stood, half-sat on the edge of the sink.  He forced her legs apart with his hands and then began to swat her pussy, hard, as he replied, “Then stop…telling me…what…to do with you!”

       Marie held his gaze even as her eyes overflowed.  She bit her lip and whimpered as each slap landed between her legs but she kept perfectly still until she was sure he had finished. Then she slid to the floor and took her kneeling position, wrists still cuffed behind her, looking up at him with tears rolling down her face.  “I’m so sorry, Master,” she whispered.   “I’m your property, to do with as you wish, whenever you wish.  I promise I’ll never forget again.”  And with that she leaned back, sliding down the cabinet behind her until her shoulders, and then her head touched the floor, her legs sliding out from beneath her. 

       He stepped back, uncertain of what she was doing, and watched as she placed her feet on the floor, wide apart, and raised her hips as high as she could, offering him her slap-reddened pussy.

       “Yours, Master,” she said, her voice strained from keeping her position.  “Only yours.”

       Damn, how did she do it?  How did she get to him like that?  He wanted to pick her up in his arms and hold her.  He wanted to drop to his knees and fuck her just as she was.  He felt himself stirring—again!—even though he had just come a few minutes ago.  She brought out things in him he had never felt before…or had felt so long ago that he had forgotten.  He had to fight to maintain his severe expression.

       To distract himself he leaned down and gently separated her pussy lips with thumb & forefinger.  Using his free hand, the one still holding the nipple clamps, he used the tip of his forefinger to stroke her clitoris. Not surprisingly it responded quickly to his ministrations, swelling up like a tiny cock as he watched.  He heard a soft moan from Marie and saw that she had her eyes closed and was beginning to breathe heavily through her nose.  He kept stroking her long enough to make sure that she was under his spell.  Then he quickly opened one of the clamps and used it to seize her clitoris.

            Marie shrieked.  “Oh god!  No!  Please take it off, Master!  Oh god, please!”  …But she held her position.

       He admired her for that—even though these weren’t his strongest clamps, it had to hurt like hell.  And now her legs were starting to shake from the pain and the strain of holding her hips up off the ground.  But he didn’t want her to get complacent, and start thinking she could breeze through a punishment with her dignity intact.  He knew that with time she’d learn not to presume, but for now, he had to put her in her place before he could hold her again.

       He knelt straddling her legs, then, deliberately, he reached down and dragged his fingernail over her engorged clit where it was trapped in the clamp. 

       It worked; she shrieked, collapsed, and tried to roll away, but was prevented when he rested his knees on her thighs, effectively keeping her legs open and holding her in place.  “You say this is mine?” he asked her, his voice low but intense.

       “Yes, Master…”

       “Then ask me to do it again.”

       She moaned, felt herself getting wetter, despite her discomfort, and made an anguished effort to obey him, but all that came out was a whimpered, “Please…”

       He slapped her lightly across the face, and she stopped thrashing her head around and looked at him.  “Ask me.”

       Pinned by his gaze, she choked out, “Please—touch me again, Master!”, and then he watched her eyes widen in alarm as he slowly brought his hand down to her spread open crotch.  When he was millimeters away she lost it, bucking, wringing her hands in their cuffs behind her back, and whimpering, and the feeling of power that rushed through him was intoxicating.  God, he loved this, having this beautiful, vivacious creature entirely under his thumb—so to speak.  He scraped his nail over her again and she broke out in a sweat, and then started babbling apologies.

       Well, there was no hope for it now, he thought.  He was going to have to fuck her again.  Without hesitating he rose and then yanked his wobbly slave to her feet, marching her swiftly into the bedroom.  He pushed her down on her back on the bed, her head near the middle of the mattress and her legs dangling over the floor at the foot.  Moving quickly, he snatched some silky ropes out of a drawer and swiftly and efficiently tied Marie’s right ankle to the tall bedpost, as high up as it would go.  He did the same with her left ankle, so that she was left on her back, her hands cuffed behind her, and her legs spread wide and pointing straight up into the air.  Fumbling with his pants, he took his place between her legs and plunged into her wet pussy at the same time as he pulled the clamp off.

       Marie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a strangled scream as heady sensations overcame her.  Her clit throbbed and stung as the blood rushed back into it, and meanwhile his cock was buried deep inside her.  And then she gasped and started to struggle as he began fucking her, remorselessly rubbing her swollen and sensitive clit in rhythm to his thrusts.  Sweet Jesus, he was going to kill her—the pleasure she felt now was so akin to pain, so mixed up with it, that she couldn’t assimilate it.

       Only his voice, rough with urgent desire, kept her from passing out.  “Whose pussy is this?” he demanded, his fingers squeezing her clit, his hips pounding against her ass as he fucked her.

       “Yours, Master!” she screamed. 

       He was breathing hard, fucking her savagely—“And I can do what I want with it.  Right, slave?”

       “Yes, oh, yes, Master!”  She was sobbing now, as she felt her besieged senses bringing her close to orgasm.  “Yes, punish me, do what you want with me, Master, I’m your—your propertyyyyyy!”  Her cries ended on a wail as she came explosively, squeezing his cock so hard he came himself, then paused just long enough to untie her legs before he collapsed next to her.  Neither of them could move for several minutes.

  Marie drifted away into sweet lassitude, her bodily pains somewhere beyond a distant horizon, coming back to herself only when she felt his hand gently brushing away the hair that had fallen across her face.  She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him.  She loved being like this: laying beneath him, completely surrendered and open, the center of his attention.  She smiled timidly and asked, “Am I forgiven, Master?”

Instead of answering he drew away from her and stood up, and for one terrifying moment Marie was afraid she had offended him again by asking.  He rolled her onto her stomach. She could no longer see, but she heard his footsteps padding across the room and then disappearing down the stairs.  She had offended him, and he was going to get something with which he could whip her, she was sure of it.  She found that she was perfectly fine with the prospect of further punishment if that’s what he felt she deserved…but the thought that she had displeased him again hurt her to the heart.

       She was already composing an apology in her mind when she heard his returning footsteps.  She waited.  The footsteps came to the side of the bed and stopped.  He seized her wrists in one hand and Marie was prepared to be dragged off the bed, or held there and flogged or…. anything but the click of her handcuffs being unlocked and then removed.  Anything but being gently rolled onto her back and taken in his arms as he lay down beside her.  Anything but being kissed tenderly and told, “Yes, you’re forgiven, princess,” and then kissed again.

       Marie had to duck her head, faintly ashamed at the thought of him seeing how powerfully he affected her emotions.  She nuzzled her cheek against his warm chest and tried to blink back her tears.  Would there ever come a day when his approval made her feel only mild satisfaction?  Surely she wouldn’t always be this overwhelmed with joy and relief when she pleased him…  She needed to get a grip.  In an attempt to distract herself, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head: “Are you mad that I can’t cook?”

       He laughed.  “Wouldn’t it have been nice to have a slave who was capable in the kitchen?” he mused, teasing her.  “Fortunately, I’m competent enough for us both, I think.”

       “Yes, Master—thank you for the lovely meals,” Marie hurried to say.

       “How do you manage when I’m not around?” He was genuinely curious.

       Marie grimaced, thinking of how frequently she ate cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—how horrified he’d be to hear of that, she thought!  “You don’t want to know,” she muttered.

       There was a brief pause, and Marie continued to hide her face from him.  Strangely, she didn’t feel at all sleepy now.  There was a sort of tension between them, things they needed to talk about.

       Finally he broke the silence, murmuring, “How are you feeling now, princess?”

       Suddenly realizing she’d been holding her breath, Marie exhaled shakily.  “I feel…well…” she hesitated, trying to put her myriad emotions into words.  Just then he rolled to the side so that she found herself on her back, his weight on her legs and hips, while he braced himself on his elbows, looming over her.  She felt comfortable this way, with his power so clearly defined in their respective positions, despite the way his authority made her heart beat faster.  She put her arms around him gratefully.  He slipped his fingers into her hair on either side of her head, stroking the line of her jaw with his thumbs and tilting her face up, so she finally looked into his eyes.  “I feel like I’m drugged,” Marie finally blurted, the admission coming out in a whoosh of breath.  “It’s—you—are…intoxicating,” she tried to explain.  “I—I really don’t know how I’m going to go back to my normal, boring life.  With you, every minute I’m feeling something.  It’s…dizzying.”

       She searched his face to see how he was reacting to this, but as usual he gave nothing away.  A moment later, though, he moved his hand and idly closed it over her breast, his hot palm brushing her nipple.  Immediately, she gave a little gasp and arched her back, trying to push her chest towards him in invitation.

       “Such passion,” he murmured.  He didn’t tell her this, but his feelings since meeting her were not dissimilar.  This thing between them may have started as a game, as far as he was concerned, but it had quickly become something much more important, something all too real.  He pictured her as she’d been on that first night, passion warring with uncertainty in her demeanor, spread out naked on that table in the back room, her pussy swollen and wet for him even as she writhed in the pain from her clamped nipples.  Even he could not have guessed how easily she would become his slave, how completely she fell into the role once given the chance.

       He wondered how she’d feel if she knew he’d been watching her, on and off, for most of the day; that the ‘security’ cameras installed all over the house provided a live feed to his computer that he could access from his cell phone?  He’d never been able to watch for more than a minute or so at a time, and only when he was alone, of course, which hadn’t been often that day.  But he’d checked as often as he could, knowing that with her hands chained the way they’d been there was some danger of her falling or otherwise injuring herself, and he’d been prepared to rush back to the house on a moment’s notice if need be.  Not to mention the immense satisfaction it gave him to watch his sweet, naked little slave struggling to serve him obediently even when he wasn’t there to oversee her, even when she so obviously hated what she was doing.

       Such sweetness, such passion…such complete surrender.  Yes, he was becoming at least as intoxicated with her as she was with him…and he wasn’t at all sure that was a good thing.  He was glad that the weekend was nearly over.  They both needed to catch their breath.

       He leaned down and kissed each of her nipples in turn, tenderly.  Then he raised his face to hers.  “Your ‘normal’ life is never going to be boring for you again, princess.  From now on, no matter how far apart we are, no matter where you are or what you’re doing you will always be aware of what makes you different from everyone else in the world.”

       He fell silent, and waited.  Marie looked up at him, her eyes shining, and whispered, “That I belong to you, Master.”

       He made no reply, other than to lean down and kiss her on the mouth.  He lingered there, gathering her up in his arms and crushing her to him as if trying to pull her all the way inside his body.  It was a long time before he let her go.  Then he rolled off her and onto his back, pulling her with him so that she nestled into his shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

       They slept.

       Marie awoke, feeling him gently caressing her hair.  It was still dark outside, with just the barest wash of gray hinting at the approach of dawn.  He was standing next to the bed, leaning over her.  As she became more awake she saw the he was fully dressed—and that he was holding her collar and leash in his hands.

       “Time to go, princess,” he said softly.

       Marie’s heart sank within her.  She’d hoped they’d wake up together, snuggle in bed for a while, maybe fuck again, shower together and have a leisurely breakfast—prepared by him, of course—before he sent her on her way.  Oh god, she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him at all—why did it have to be like this?  The life she’d been leading contentedly enough just a few days ago now stretched before her like an endless desert.  Still, he was here now, holding her collar and leash…

       She obediently sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, lowering her head and offering her neck for him to close the collar around.  Instead, she felt his lips there, warm, soft and a little dry, and this show of tenderness, especially when she was already feeling so vulnerable, had the effect of making her burst into tears, fall to her knees and throw her arms around his legs, sobbing, “Please don’t make me go, Master!  Please!  Let me stay here…I’ll clean the house, I’ll…I’ll learn how to cook, I promise!  I’ll…I’ll…”  She dissolved into incoherent sobs, her head against his thigh, her shoulders shaking.

       She felt her arms being gently disengaged as he knelt down to face her, taking her hands in his own. He waited for her to raise her eyes to his.   “You belong to me,” he began, softly.  “You are my most precious possession.”  He reached up to cup her face in hands and used his thumbs to brush away the tears as he continued, “But that’s not all you are…and neither one of us would be happy for long if you tried to be.”  He pulled her forward until her head rested on his shoulder and began stroking her hair.  “I’m going to take you home.  You’re going to do your homework, answer your email, catch up with things.  Tomorrow you’ll go to your classes, talk with your friends, live your life just as you’ve been doing.”  He pulled her away from his shoulder and looked into her eyes.  “You will not contact me or come here or to my store until Friday night, is that understood?”

       Marie, white-faced, her expression stricken, gave the barest of nods and whispered, “Yes, Master.”

       He reached down for the collar, which he had dropped to the floor, and fastened it around her neck.  “You will wear this at all times, except when you shower.”

       Marie felt oddly comforted as the cool steel settled onto her collarbones, and she gave him a tremulous smile as she answered, a little more firmly, “Yes, Master.”  She ignored the tiny voice at the back of her mind asking how she would explain the collar to her friends.

       He stood then, raising her to her feet along with him, and embraced her once more, holding her closely to him for a long moment.  When he released her and stepped back Marie saw that he had picked up the leash as well; she stood meekly while he attached it to the collar.

       He led her downstairs, out the door and into the elevator.  He took her down to the garage and helped her into his van, and they drove in silence through the empty streets and the lightening sky until they reached the run-down apartment building where she lived, near to the college.  Marie didn’t dare to ask how he knew where to go.  She was also becoming more and more aware of the fact that she was still completely naked except for her collar and leash.  That she hadn’t had a shower since…she couldn’t remember how long ago it had been but it felt like days.  That she smelled of sweat and sex…and Him.

       But when the van pulled over to the curb and stopped she simply waited to be told what to do, her gaze locked on him.  He got out of the van, came around to her side, opened the door and indicated, by taking her leash in hand and giving it a gentle tug, that she was to get out.  She obediently climbed down and stood facing him on the sidewalk, naked, arms at her sides, giving him her complete attention.  It was cool enough outside to goosepimple her flesh, and the sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon.  She willed herself not to shiver.  But it was hard not to, standing at the borderline between her two lives like that.

He reached up and unfastened the leash from her collar, wrapping it lightly around his wrist.  He turned away for a moment, sliding open the back door of the van and reaching inside.  When he turned to face her again Marie saw that his arms were full of the clothes she had left behind when he’d taken her out of the bookstore a lifetime ago.  He handed them to her—even her panties, both sets on top of the pile, naturally—then reached into the van again, coming up with her purse, which he added to the pile, much to Marie’s relief, considering that it held all her keys, among other things.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.  He ran his hands lightly over her behind for a moment then leaned forward over the pile of clothes in her arms and gave her a kiss full of warmth and affection.  He pulled back and looked into her eyes and Marie saw that what he had said earlier was true: she was his slave, yes, but she was more than that.  Especially to him.

He left without another word, climbing into his van and driving off.  Marie stood there watching until the van was lost in the glare of the rising sun, then turned and walked slowly to the door of her building, not caring if anyone saw her or not.