by T. Evans
Anita set to her tasks, walking very gingerly on her bruised feet. At least the bedroom, Playground, and living room were carpeted. When she had to cross the hardwood floor of the kitchen to reach the tiled bathroom, each step hurt. Still, she took some time to stand across the room from the mirrors and stood on tiptoe to try and get a good look at the map on the back of her legs of where Sir’s cane had gone. Her shoulders were still a bright, angry red from the slapping she took while giving him head.
Stepping into the stream of hot water eased her tight muscles, but also stung terribly on her freshly worked skin. The combination of shedding stress under the shower and the renewed pain reminded Anita that she had certain needs that hadn’t been tended to, and likely wouldn’t be for some time. She did not allow herself even the slightest thought of tending to that herself, though. She and Sir were in complete agreement that her pleasure was his exclusive possession, for him to withhold and give out at his whim.
Despite the longing ache inside of her, Anita stepped out of the shower feeling very tall and centered within herself. She’d earned back the collar, and Sir seemed to still be taking a great deal of enjoyment from her. The Retreat seemed to envelop her in its solid walls. Even though she was still facing consequences for having to call Alter on Sir’s pleasure, there was a sense of rightness pervading everything in the place.
After she was dried off and she’d carefully made up her face for him, she went to find him. He was sitting in his chair in The Playground, and she counted nine lengths of rope, four blue, three black and two white, on the floor in front of him. The collar was also set out at his feet. She approached with her usual ritual of kissing the tops of his feet before kneeling tall before him.
“The collar, Miss Rhodes.”
Anita picked it up off the floor and presented it to him with her head bowed. As soon as he took it from her, she folded her hands behind her head to hold her hair up for him.
“In the future, if I lay a collar out for you, do not wait for my instruction to present it to me, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, as he buckled it on.
“I’ve noticed you have been trying to trance out at times while I have been using or abusing you. If you would like to practice some more, now would be a good time.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, wondering what he had in mind. He stood up and picked up one of the black lengths of rope.
“Stand here,” he said, pointing to a spot between the chair and the cross. He shook the rope out and wrapped it once around her waist, cinching a quick knot into it. Next, he took two lengths of the blue rope, and hitched one piece to the black rope, on either side of her hips. With three pieces of rope on her body, he slipped the knot on the black piece, and started wrapping it up her body towards her chest. With each wrap, he interlaced the pieces of blue rope into it.
By the time he’d gotten a half-dozen wraps, Anita understood why he’d invited her to practice her meditation. He was being very careful and precise about the work he was doing, and she was likely to be standing there being adorned for quite some time. She decided to accept Sir’s offer, and let herself drift into her chant again of, “Sir. Wants.” Without him doing things to bring her erotic pleasure, she found it much easier to drift away into the words and separate herself from her body. She was still incredibly turned on, especially since she could still feel his fingers on her as he worked the rope, could feel his breath on her shoulders and neck as he stood very close to wrap her up and tie his knots. But the experience was one of a very quietly persistent sensuality, not of overt and hard sexual contact or intentional infliction of pain.
“Miss Rhodes.”
“Sir?” Anita said, opening her eyes. Sir was standing in front of her, surveying the results of his labors. She looked down at the rope on her body. The black rope had been wrapped essential into a corset, from the top of her hips to the underside of her breasts. The blue rope was interwoven into the black, which seemed to make the entire assembly pleasantly snug and stiff enough that she could tell it would resist her slouching over or twisting. The white rope was laced through the front of the corset, then woven into a complex medallion in the center of her chest, then up over her shoulders. “May I see the entire work, Sir?”
“You may, Miss Rhodes. Come to my bedroom afterwards.”
Anita padded on her sore feet, which were happy to remind her that she’d been standing for quite some time, to check out Sir’s work in the bathroom mirror. He’d given as much care to her back as he had to the front of her body. She had no idea how long he’d been working, but she was deeply touched by how long he’d spent on the elaborate project. Anita had never before felt as beautiful as she did in that moment.
As she walked to the bedroom, she found herself excited at the prospect of Sir using her body while it was decorated so, but also dreaded it, knowing that she had certainly earned a lot more time holding her pleasure at bay for him. Having to restrain herself from going over while her body was so wrapped up in such involved and attentive decoration was going to be a terrible challenge.
Sir was sitting on his bed, in a black suit of soft-looking wool, a crisp white shirt, and a tie the color of port wine. “I am humbled, Sir,” Anita said after she’d performed her ritual of greeting.
“Stand up,” he said. “Far left of the closet, there’s an outfit for you. Put it on.”
“Yes, Sir.” She opened up the closet and saw a long dress of a heavy, emerald green brocade fabric hanging inside. On the floor below it was a pair of black velvet boots with stiletto heels, and a package of black thigh-high stockings.
She slipped on the stockings while Sir sat on the bed, looking at her with a greedy and wolfish grin. Anita felt a tingle inside as she wondered what exactly he was pondering. It took a great deal of effort, though, for her to put the boots on. The soles of her feet were still terribly tender, maybe even more after the shower than they had been before. She hoped that whatever he had in mind for her next, it involved as little walking and standing as possible.
The dress was very clearly designed to be form-fitting, but had no labels or tags, so she did not even know if it would be the right size. As she slipped it on, though, she could have sworn it had been made for her. She tried to reach back to zip it up. “If I may, Sir, your rope and the current state of my body leave me less flexible than I would otherwise be,” she said.
He stood up and zipped the dress, then pulled her back to lean against him. As he ran his hands up and down her sides, Anita looked down. The fabric was thick and stiff enough that there was no sign at all that she had a lot of rope tied around her body. The dress also had a standing neckline, so the leather collar was hidden all the way around, except at the very front.
“What is your desire, Sir?”
“You noticed there was nothing in the kitchen for tonight’s dinner, Miss Rhodes?”
“I did, Sir,” she said, a tremendous feeling of excitement shooting through her.
“I do not need to warn you that your behavior for the next few hours needs to be completely beyond reproach, do I?”
“Complete obedience and compliance, Sir.”
“Good.” He led her to the coat closet and took out a long, black coat and helped her into it, before putting his own on. The coat he’d put on her fit her very well, but it was not hers. Her coat was no longer in the closet. She looked at him with a question on her lips.
“Yesterday evening, I sent your clothing out to be laundered for you. My personal assistant took note of the sizes, and I gave her a few observations about how I felt the garments fit you. All of your belongings will be returned this evening while we are gone.”
“I see, Sir,” Anita said.
“The clothes you are wearing now belong to you, by the way.” He opened the door and walked her across the rooftop terrace to the elevators. It was a cold night, with a very light rain falling, but Sir wrapped an arm around her and opened an umbrella to cover them. They rode down to the fir
st floor, where they were met by a woman who would have stood eye-to-eye with Sir if her shiny leather boots didn’t have obnoxiously tall heels. Anita found her stunningly gorgeous in a very severe way. Everything about her face was sharp and angular, her cold blue eyes were slightly narrowed at Anita. Even in an overcoat, it was clear she had a strong frame, full and prominent breasts, runners’ legs, and she radiated exotic energy.
Despite the ornate rope work underneath the elegant dress she was wearing, Anita felt insignificant and ugly in the woman’s presence. She was the kind of woman Anita imagined Sir would normally go for. Exotic looks, a perfect sense of style, a naturally elite level of physical beauty. Anita half expected Sir to thank her for her time, and send her away to traipse off with the other woman.
“Miss Rhodes, Katrine Pargould, my Personal Assistant.”
Anita offered a hand, which Pargould took with a brief fingertip to fingertip clasp. “Miss Rhodes,” she said simply, nodding her head first at Anita, then at Sir. “Mr. Marshall.”
“Ma’am,” Anita said, instinctively lowering her eyes to the floor and sidling closer to Sir and slightly behind him. Paragould frightened her in a way no other woman ever had. It was like she had all of Sir’s power and presence, but there was also something very menacing about the way she carried it.
“You are obviously acquainted with Miss Rivera, my Personal Assistant at Marshall Capital.”
“Yes, Sir. She is well known throughout the company.”
“Miss Rivera is beyond compare in that capacity, but I do like to keep this part of my life very separate from that part. Besides, I suspect Miss Rivera would find many aspects of this lifestyle to be highly distressing. Katrine here is an active participant in the sorts of activities you and I are partaking in this weekend. No need to feel any embarrassment or shame in her presence.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Your car is ready, and Santos is holding a semi-private table,” Paragould said. “Is Miss Rhodes dressed to your satisfaction?”
“Perfectly, thank you,” Sir said. “Come.” He led both women out the front door to a waiting limousine, sending Anita in first, followed by Paragould. Anita felt terribly intimidated by the presence of the other woman in the car, and tried to make herself very small and invisible.
“You can relax, Miss Rhodes. Katrine is definitely judging you, but you two are not in competition.”
“Sir?”
“Katrine is my closest confidante in many respects and I value her perspective in many personal matters, but we definitely have an employer and employee relationship. I believe I’ve already explained to you how I feel about dalliances with people on my payroll.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Besides, Miss Rhodes, Mr. Marshall and I have almost identical tastes in partners and proclivities in what we like to do to them. He and I would be supremely incompatible within the confines of The Retreat.”
Anita furrowed her brow as she tried to parse out what Paragould was getting at.
“Katrine is also a very sought-after dominatrix, Miss Rhodes.”
“Ah. I see, Sir.” Anita glanced up at Paragould, who was still watching her appraisingly. “Ma’am.”
“If Mr. Marshall and I ever tried to ‘dally’ with each other, we would either both throw up our hands in frustration within the first couple of minutes, or things would rapidly escalate to pretty extreme levels of violence when neither of us was willing to submit to the other,” Paragould said.
Anita glanced up again, but could not tell if she was joking about the violence or not.
“Katrine will accompany us to Santos, and then the car will take her to tend to some other matters,” Sir said. “I had her ride along so she could get a quick in-person impression of our interactions.”
“Mr. Marshall has made some unfortunate decisions in the past.”
“She acts as my quality control.”
“Of course, Sir,” Anita said.
“You can relax, Miss Rhodes,” Paragould said. “I mean you no ill will or harm. And I have already determined that you are not one of Mr. Marshall’s less fortunate choices.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Anita said, carefully lifting her head to face the other woman. Paragould’s face had softened, and her eyes no longer looked like they were trying to bore a hole through Anita’s head.
“The dragon lady act was a professional mask I put on when first meeting somebody in certain contexts.” Paragould reached out and took Anita’s hand in hers. “I had to test your reactions.”
“Don’t let the kinder and gentler Katrine fool you, though,” Sir said. “I can be hard on a submissive at times. Katrine is a positive sadist. Believe me, you are lucky I offered to punish you myself for trespassing on the rooftop garden, instead of handing you over to her.”
Paragould smiled in a very predatory manner at Anita, then turned to face Sir. “You keep promising to send me a toy to break someday, Mr. Marshall.”
“Miss Rhodes is not for you,” Sir said, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. Paragould’s softer smile returned, and Anita tentatively leaned back in her seat.
Sir and his assistant made small talk until the limousine pulled up to a stop in front of a relatively non-descript restaurant, with a small brass sign above the door reading ‘Santos’. “Set The Retreat up for tomorrow, take care of the other tasks we’d discussed on Thursday evening, and you are off duty until tomorrow at dinner time,” he said to Paragould after he and Anita stepped out of the car. The driver held an umbrella over them while he walked them to the door of the restaurant. The maître d’ seemed to know exactly who Marshall was. He took their coats and led them directly to a small table in a side nook that was mostly shielded from view of the other customers.
Anita felt like she was on top of the world as she followed Sir across the restaurant, feeling the eyes of several of the guests look her over. One caught sight of the collar, mostly hidden by the dress, and gave her an approving smile and nod.
“This place caters to a very specific and discreet clientele,” Sir said, after they’d been seated. “I could have brought you in here with a strapless gown, the rope under your clothing on full display and the collar out loud and proud for everybody to see, and not a word of it would have been whispered outside these walls. You are expected to hold the same standard about everybody else you see here.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“So you can enjoy dinner knowing that anybody who recognizes either of us will pretend they’ve seen nothing. Obviously, for my professional reputation, this is very important, but I assume you would appreciate our current situation remaining our secret for personal reasons as well.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Provided you do not give me any reason to punish you severely, I have no plans for any further hard use of your body tonight. No need to dine daintily, since I know you will not seek out a reason for me to punish you, correct?”
Anita touched the collar around her neck. “Completely obedient and compliant, Sir,” she said.
“Good girl,” Sir said.
Anita lost her breath for a second. If it weren’t for the complex wrap of rope around her, she would have leaned forward a bit. She’d had people call her that before, but never before had it come from somebody that she so powerfully craved hearing it from. Even after a lifetime of putting up with her mother’s abuse and neglect, of trying to excel and exceed to gain the woman’s approval, Anita suddenly realized she had never wanted to hear those two words from her mother as much as she had been wanting to hear them from Sir. For her mother to have ever said it and meant it, it would have just been a little bit of something tossed into an empty void Anita had inside. To hear Sir say it, it filled her with pride at knowing that he was using those words to build her up.
She realized she was blushing terribly, and put the menu up in front of her face to hide. Sir took a finger and lowered her cover. “I mean it,” he said. “You have earned it.”
�
��Yes, Sir,” Anita said, letting herself smile fully. “So, anything on this menu is fair game, Sir?”
“Indulge to your heart and stomach’s content, Miss Rhodes.”
An hour later, she and Sir were sipping hundred-year old port after a full dinner of astoundingly good steak and a dessert of honey jasmine gelato. “What does a bottle of this cost, Sir?” Anita said, taking a long sniff of the dark, heavy liquid in her glass.
“A good, long-aged port is not as expensive as you might expect. This one is probably under a thousand dollars for a small bottle.”
“Which is still a considerable expenditure for my means, Sir.”
“I understand, Miss Rhodes. But in contrast, it is very easy to lay out more than twenty thousand for a rare bottle of Scotch, brandy or cognac.”
Anita took a sip of port, and held it in her mouth so she could experience the panoply of flavors that developed. “This is very good, Sir. I can appreciate the quality. I’ve never tasted anything even remotely comparable. But twenty thousand a bottle for liquor? Even at your budget, is it really worth it, or just a conspicuous indulgence, Sir?”
“I don’t budget for food and liquor, Miss Rhodes,” he said, laughing. “There isn’t anything in the world that can be put on a plate or in a glass that I cannot very easily afford.” He leaned a little forward, looking into the main body of the restaurant and raised his hand slightly. A server appeared very soon afterwards.
“The Balvenie 1971, neat, please,” Sir said, then turned to Anita. “Take a few good drinks of water to clear your palate.”
Anita did, and the server shortly arrived with a small glass of amber liquid. Sir held it to his nose and breathed deeply with his eyes closed, leaning his head back before offering the glass to Anita. She followed suit, taking in a powerful woody and spicy scent, with undertones of dark, tart fruit and honey.
“Sip,” Sir said.
Anita took a small drink. Everything on the nose was there on the tongue, but as she held the liquor in her mouth, bitter oak became prominent, followed by dried fruits, all the while with the flavors of spice danced around her tongue. She swallowed, and enjoyed the lingering sense of honeycomb that remained in her breath. With the rope corset on, Anita could not breathe very deeply, and that seemed to lengthen the amount of time the effect lasted.
