by T. Evans
“Is that a solid boundary that you are asking me to respect, Miss Rhodes, or are you telling me that if it comes out again you are willing to endure it but you won’t enjoy it.”
“The second, Sir. Right before you put yourself into my mouth, you told me that you adore what you were about to do to me. I assumed you meant using the spider gag, Sir.”
“I did.”
“And I have given you full consent to my body. I hated every second of having that thing in my mouth, and the way you used it to use me, but it did not cause me actual harm, Sir.”
“You say, ‘The way I used it to use you.’”
“Yes, Sir. The spider gag allowed you to use my mouth as…a passive vessel. I have never had my mouth used that way before.”
“Go on. Explore the feeling,” he said, leaning a bit over to kiss the top of Anita’s head.
“I really love to give head to a deserving partner. I love to be able to give someone pleasure like that. It is a very active way that I can give a partner pleasure, I can suck and lick and use my tongue and tease and play. It’s more than something I can give, it’s something I can do. That spider gag took that one part of my body that I can most actively use to give pleasure and turned it into nothing but a convenient wet hole for you to shove yourself into. I understand that was the point, Sir. That doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”
Sir handed her his water glass. “It’s better if you don’t like it. That’s what makes it useful as punishment when your behavior is unacceptable.”
Anita took a drink of water. Whatever it was that had numbed her was wearing off. She could feel the cold liquid washing around the inside of her mouth and sense the sweetness of it. “Or course, Sir. I also very clearly heard you say that you adore doing that right before you put yourself in my mouth. Is it correct that you meant using the gag on someone, Sir?”
“Yes. What you hate about the experience is exactly what I love. Turning a woman’s deliciously agile mouth into ‘a convenient wet hole’ really gets me going.”
“Would I be expected to endure it even if I weren’t being punished, Sir?”
“As long as it is not beyond a solid boundary for you.”
“It is not, Sir.”
“Good. It makes me very happy to hear that, Miss Rhodes.” Sir ran his fingers through Anita’s hair and pulled her over so she was leaning against the padded arm of his chair. “Tell me about having your body used in general. Have you ever before been completely passive during sex?”
“You mean like passed out drunk or sleeping, Sir?”
“Partially, yes. But also like I just did to you, restraining you completely, or you choosing to not participate, just let somebody have their way with your body.”
“Never in a consensual encounter, Sir.”
“But non-consensually?”
“Yes, Sir. A few times in college I’d had way, way too much to drink. Once I actually did wake up next to the guy, twice I could tell the next morning that somebody had been inside of me, but I had no memory of it. Are you asking if I would consent to you using me like that, Sir?”
“In a word, yes, Miss Rhodes. Either by ordering you to be completely non-responsive, or by taking you when you are incapacitated.”
“May I have some time to think about that, Sir?”
“You may. As much time as you need. Thank you for being clear with me about your experiences this evening, and for giving my question due consideration.”
“Of course, Sir,” Anita said.
“We had dinner very early. I’m quite hungry again, and I suspect you may be as well.”
“I am, Sir.”
“Good. We have a very nice and substantial dessert for tonight. Go get it from the refrigerator and set the table. Water glasses only this time.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said. The key to the apartment, The Retreat, she remembered he preferred to call it, was still sitting in the center of the table. Sir had just asked her to open herself and her body a little bit farther for him. He had asked her to give him an even deeper level of trust, permission to use her at any time, under any conditions. She looked at that key for a long time before she was able to continue on to getting the dishes out. Ultimately, she realized, Sir was asking Anita how much she trusted him.
She recalled a thought she’d had earlier. ‘In Sir’s cage, we are safe.’
Anita turned to look into the living room where he sat in his chair, looking out over the city. It was getting dark enough that she could see lights in offices and apartments in other buildings winking on and off. He sat there calmly, occasionally sipping from his water glass.
“Sir?”
“You have not set the table yet, Miss Rhodes.”
“I know. I was distracted by my answer to your question.”
“Go ahead, Miss Rhodes.”
“I gave you full consent to my body when you first brought me in here. I still trust you with that, Sir. I trust you more now than I did when I gave it, Sir.”
“Excellent, Miss Rhodes. I shall endeavor to always be worthy of it. Now finish the task I gave you.”
Chapter Two
Anita had set the table as she had for dinner, affording Marshall the view through the living room to the grand floor-to-ceiling windows, while she sat to his right looking toward the kitchen. The other thing he noticed was that the key to the apartment had been moved all the way over to the left side of the table, far from her seat.
“You deserve a reward,” he said, before sitting down. “There are small cordial glasses on the shelf above the wine glasses. Get two of them. The liquor cabinet is to the right of the refrigerator. There’s a bottle of 1963 Tokaj Kereskedohaz in there. Bring it to the table.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said. She set out the two glasses very precisely on the table, then went to the liquor cabinet.
Marshall was pleased to see that she also brought a corkscrew with her. It only took him a simple gesture toward the bottle for her to understand she was to open it as well.
While she set to that task, he said, “This is a very fine dessert wine. It is made from grapes grown only in a specific region of Hungary. They are left on the vine until they are overripe and dried out, and fermented for several years by a specific process before bottling. I find these wines are unlike any other, except for certain of my favorite aged ports.”
Anita poured them each a small glass before corking the bottle. “Is there anything else you require, Sir?”
“Nothing at the moment, Miss Rhodes. You may join me now.”
The evening’s dessert consisted of cheesecake made from goat cheese, with a glaze of tart berries. The goat cheese gave it a solid and heavy texture and a more savory flavor than such a rich cheesecake would normally have. Combined with the berry glaze, it was not as cloyingly sweet as one would expect. This made it an excellent base for the very sweet wine.
Anita ate in silence, keeping an eye on Marshall and his place setting. When he finished his wine, he slid his glass barely an inch toward the bottle. Anita picked it up. “Just half a glass, Miss Rhodes,” he said as she started to tilt the bottle.
When she finished her own wine, she neither went to refill it nor asked if she could have more. She also paced Marshall with the dessert, finishing precisely as he did. That kind of attention to detail was something he hadn’t had to instill into her. Sure, she would occasionally make an error and miss a cue from him, or fail to intuit what she should do next in a situation. On the other hand, she still caught a lot of small things and was very clearly always trying to make her service to him as smooth as possible.
When they’d sat down to dessert, he had two different things in mind for their last session before bed. Her grasp of the small details and the grace with which she took the reward of the finest Tokaj he had in The Retreat led him to choose the kinder of his two options.
“Clean up the table, then use the restroom to refresh yourself and come to me in The Playground, completely undressed, Miss Rho
des.”
Marshall undressed and went to prepare for Anita, selecting the necessary items for what he intended to do to her. A few minutes later, she reported to him, dropping to hands and knees to kiss his feet as was his habit, then assuming a kneeling tall position before him. Her eyes went directly to his cock, which was already stirring and stiffening as he anticipated what was coming next.
She glanced up at him, quick, but very clearly seeking some sort of protocol for the moment. He gave her none, waiting to see what she would do. Would she just start to service him, or wait for direction?
“What is your desire, Sir?” she finally asked.
“To finish what we’d started earlier, when you’d failed at the task of holding off your orgasm until commanded to release it.”
To her credit, Anita tried to not to react, but he saw a hint of a smile cross her face at the thought.
“I shall do everything I can to please you this time, Sir.”
“Yes. That would be best, Miss Rhodes. Your punishment will be much more severe this time if you fail me a second time. Severe enough that you’ll find yourself begging me to use the spider gag instead.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Stand over there,” Marshall said, pointing to a spot near the spanking horse. There were several pairs of leather restraints laid out on the padded top. Again, Anita tried to hide her reaction, but she was clearly excited at the sight of them. He really hoped her excitement would not overcome her self-control, because while punishing her would be an awful lot of fun for him, he really wanted to just take her, slip in between her strong, shapely thighs and just enjoy the experience.
He started by putting cuffs on her ankles and calves. Next was a leather arrangement that was not unlike the waist harness a rock climber would use, a belt with attached thigh straps and various adjustment points. He also slipped a chest harness onto her that brought two straps crossing in front of her chest, between her breasts, and then wrapped around her upper arms.
The final step was putting wrist cuffs on her. “You are to consider any leather, metal, or rope around your wrists to be the equivalent of me holding onto your wrists. You recall your orders when I hold your wrists, do you not, Miss Rhodes?”
“I may not, under any circumstances, have an orgasm while you hold my wrists, Sir.”
“Correct. You understand the task in front of you right now?”
“I do, Sir,” she said.
He could see the disappointment in her face, and smiled broadly at her.
She lowered her eyes, and nodded slightly. “I shall do everything I can to succeed in this task, Sir.”
“I know you will. Now, sit.” He patted the very edge of the padded top of the spanking horse. She looked briefly perplexed, since the horse was clearly designed for somebody to lay on their belly upon it, with shelves for the knees and elbows. But she did as she was told, and hopped up so she could sit upon it. The top was narrower than her hips, and she had to actively balance herself on it. “Lay back,” Marshall said, putting one hand on her chest, one behind her back to slowly guide her down. “You may use your feet for now to steady yourself.”
There were several metal rings riveted to the undersides of the top and the shelves of the horse. Marshall had a collection of buckled leather straps with clips at either end. One by one, he strung them between a ring on the horse and one on her body, effectively immobilizing her, and also stabilizing her on the top of the horse. Once he had her strapped down from collar to hips, he lifted her feet up and rocked her side-to-side by her ankles. “You’re not going anywhere, see?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
Marshall had three metal rods with clips at either end, in addition to the straps he had already applied. He took one rod to either leg, clipping the straps on her calves to the ones on her thighs, bending her knees and fixing her legs in that position. The third rod he ran between the two thigh straps, which opened her legs wide and kept her from closing them. Another couple of straps from her ankles to the horse and she was solidly fixed in place.
“Do not forget, your wrists are bound, Miss Rhodes.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Marshall put his hand between her legs. She was fully exposed to him, both to his eyes and to his touch, with her legs forcibly spread wide and lifted for him. Her lips were very warm and wet enough that he was able to effortlessly slip a couple of fingers inside of her. She gasped, and he heard a little creak as her body struggled against the restraints that held her to the table and kept her still. He rotated his wrist to explore the inside of her body, finding the g-spot, and also that other spot toward the back that also seemed to really get her going. “Your wrists are bound, Miss Rhodes. Do not forget this.”
“Of course, Sir,” she said, thickly, voice heavy with pleasure and contentment.
Marshall took his fingers out of her, and rubbed them against the head of his cock, wetting it. “Do not disappoint me, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. He saw her grit her teeth, anticipating what was about to come. As he entered her, he saw her close her eyes and try to throw her head back, resisting the urge to open her mouth and make some sound of pleasure at the feeling of him inside of her. He suspected that she was clamping down on her voice to help keep her from surrendering to the moment and letting herself go.
Marshall was under no such compulsion himself. As he sunk into her, he said, “Ooooooh, my, yes.” While he had immensely enjoyed the two times he’d taken his pleasure from her mouth, including the forced oral encounter, and was tremendously satisfied with how she handled her introduction to sodomy, there was still a lot to be said about enjoying a body in the way that millions of years of evolution had designed it to be enjoyed. There was just something right about being inside a part of a woman that had been specifically created to provide pleasure for a man.
As he slid in and out of her, he relished the subtle perfection in the way her body accommodated him. There was no resistance to him pushing in deeply, no reflexive tightening or gagging at him pushing into a place that was not designed for something stiff and insistent. Just a soft, hot, eager wetness that craved his presence inside of her. Marshall kept watching her eyes and face. Every time it looked like she was perilously close to forgetting her instructions, he would either grab onto her wrists to remind her of the prohibition she was under, or say, “Don’t come yet. Not until I release you.”
Sometimes, she would respond with, “Of course, Sir,” others she would just shut her eyes tight, clench her jaw, and nod her understanding. He had to be careful with how he went at her. The earlier exercise with her masturbating for him let Marshall know how she liked to be filled. If he had wanted to, it would have just been a half-step backwards from her, and he’d be at an angle to hit her just right and hurl her over the edge of the cliff into orgasm. If he were to reach out and squeeze her stiff, perky nipples, or put a thumb on her clit, she’d be unable to hold back the floodgates.
Marshall knew these things, but chose not to take advantage of them. Not because he was feeling merciful and wanted to help her avoid punishment for failing to hold off, but because he himself did not want to interrupt what he was doing to punish her. His desire to dominate her was a very sexual one. It was not rooted in some more abstract sense of controlling her or possessing her. His desire to dominate her grew from a simple desire for her as a person, to be with this attractive, brilliant, naturally submissive woman who had stumbled into his life.
If he were to force her to orgasm before he were ready himself, he would have to forestall his fulfillment of his desire for her and her body even longer. Marshall was simply tired of waiting. He wanted to share that most intimate experience of orgasming with her while inside of her, not while shoving himself down her throat or up her backside. And he was working on his fourth orgasm for the day, which was not going to come easily, so he had to be careful to meter out pleasure to her in a controlled manner.
That moment finally arri
ved for him, when he felt that very different tingle from his cock that told him his release was coming. Watching her sweat and struggle beneath him, gnashing her teeth and shaking her head side-to-side as she struggled to tamp down the rising tide inside of herself started having a definite effect on him, and he started to let himself go.
“Red, Miss Rhodes,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” Anita panted.
“Yellow…”
Anita nodded her head.
“Orange…” He could see definite confusion on her face as she struggled against the leather cuffs around her wrists. Marshall grabbed onto them, to remind her the need for control.
“Green, Miss Rhodes,” he said, no longer able to keep his voice calm and steady as he felt his ability to control his own pleasure slip from his grasp. He had passed the point of no return.
“Blue.” The straps on her wrists were different than the ones elsewhere on her body. There was a secret catch on each that would separate the buckle from the strap.
“Indigo,” Marshall said, putting his fingers on the catches.
“PLEASE, SIR!” Anita shouted.
“Violet!” he said, tripping the catches. He slammed into her and bent over her body, collapsing onto her with a shout. Anita’s voice matched his in volume and intensity, and he felt her every muscle tense and try to lift her up off the horse.
As he came, his hips pumped frantically as he spilled inside of her. She shivered as the tension crescendoed and released, all the while still crying out with joy. Marshall remained inside of her as her body calmed, then he grabbed onto her breasts and squeezed them, digging his fingertips in lightly while he started up a slow, easy rhythm in his hips. A few seconds of that, and he sent her over again. He had a little bit of stiffness left, so he licked his fingertips, and started to pinch and pull at her nipples while he shifted his hips around to find one of the especially sensitive spots inside of her. As he felt her responding to his renewed attentions, he quickly counted down the colors again to reinforce the lesson, and was very happy when a third orgasm shook through her when he hit violet again.
