by T. Evans
“That, Miss Rhodes, is a twenty-thousand dollar a bottle Scotch. What sets it apart from a twenty-dollar bottle is certainly the purity and quality of the product, the way the scent and the flavors evolve over time, each sip being a symphony to the mouth and nose instead of playing a single note. Rather impressive, no?”
“Very much so, Sir. I don’t normally like brown liquors, but this was indeed something special.”
“That accounts for one thousand of the twenty thousand dollars on that bottle’s price tag. The other nineteen thousand are just to be able to say you’ve tasted something that maybe only one person out of fifty million will ever taste.”
“May I be slightly crude, Sir?”
“Yes, Miss Rhodes, as long as you are sure your comment will not violate the expectation that you be completely obedient and compliant.”
“Of course, Sir,” Anita said, and paused to consider that before speaking. “I am very happy that the privilege of tasting your cock comes at a price I can afford.”
“There are many, many forms of currency, Miss Rhodes. Precious few people trade in the coin required to purchase a mouthful of my cock.” He took the glass of whiskey from her and indulged in a sip for himself before passing it back. “What say we share this, you finish your port, and then you can enjoy that other privilege in the car on the way back to The Retreat.”
“I look forward to pleasing you, Sir.”
Chapter Six
For the entire ride back, Marshall forbade Anita from finishing him. His instructions to her were to keep him stiff and happy, but to not take him all the way. A block from the building, he pulled her head out of his lap and zipped up.
“There will be security cameras watching us until we’re back inside The Retreat,” he whispered to her as the driver opened the door for them. “So behave yourself until it is appropriate for you to become a wanton little whore for me.”
In the elevator, she asked him, “How exactly does a wanton little whore act, Sir?”
“Like she finds nothing in life so joyous as displaying herself for her Master and she finds fulfillment in nothing at all but worshipping his cock.”
“Is your desire for me to be unrestrained in my need to please you, Sir?”
“Wanton little whore, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, keeping her hands very carefully folded in front of her for the entire ride up to the top of the building, and carefully walking a step behind him as they crossed the rooftop to The Retreat.
“Could you please help me with the dress, Sir,” Anita asked as soon as the door closed behind them, while she dropped her coat to the floor. Marshall unzipped the dress and took off his own coat while she walked away from him, heels clicking on the hard wood floor as she slinked out of the dress. His rope work on her body was still neat and snug. He had noticed that during the entirety of dinner she had not slouched at all, and had kept her back very straight. The careful attention to her posture kept the corset from slipping around her or loosening up.
Anita looked at him over her shoulder, and walked over to his Throne. She bent at the waist, still keeping her spine straight, and opened her legs, giving him a full view. “Would you like more of my mouth, or are other parts tempting you, Sir?”
Marshall walked past her, dropping his suit coat, loosening his tie just enough to slip it off over his head, and unbuttoning his shirt. He leaned against the big windows and unzipped his pants. “Suck it like you’re working for a twenty-dollar bottle of booze.”
“Please, may I, Sir?” she asked, swaying her hips as she sauntered over to him and dropped to her knees. She started giving him noisy, wet, and sloppy head, as if it was some sort of sketchy porn shoot. He looked down at her and smiled, pleased beyond belief at how she was throwing herself into the role he’d given her. She choked and gagged as she slammed the back of her throat against the tip of his cock, in between moaning as if she’d never before had anything finer in her mouth. He was tempted to just let her take it all, just like that. After the skilled service she’d provided on the drive back, he was more than happy to go all the way in her mouth, but he still needed to work on her. She had made the right choice by asking him to switch what he was doing earlier when she was under orgasm denial. There still had to be consequences, though, to reinforce that her pleasure was something always in his possession, for him to give and keep as he pleased. She looked to be immensely enjoying the act of blowing him, but not in a way that would lead her to orgasm. He had to tempt her body again, so he could deny her again.
“You had other options on offer, Miss Rhodes,” he asked, grabbing a handful of hair and lifting her up.
“Would you like to see them again, Sir?” she asked, trying to turn away from him despite his grip.
“Please,” he said, releasing her with a little shove. She went back to bending over The Throne, putting herself on shameless display for him.
“What is your desire, Sir?” she asked.
He made her wait while he removed the rest of his clothing.
“I hope you’re ready,” he said, as he approached her.
“Soaking wet and dying to please you, Sir,” Anita told him.
She was not lying. He was able to slip straight into her and go right to it. Still keeping in character, she gave her voice free reign for the short amount of time it took for him to start bringing her close. As suddenly as he’d dove in, he pulled right out. She didn’t make any sound of disappointment, just asked, “What is your next desire, Sir?”
Marshall looked around the room for something to bind her wrists with. His eyes landed on the necktie. He pointed at it. “Tie your hands together and put yourself right back here.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, hopping up and slipping her wrists through the tie, using her teeth to tighten it. She went right back to bending over in front of him. “Ready, Sir,” she said, with a very alluring shake of her backside at him.
He entered her again, and went right back to taking her for a vigorous ride. How she was managing to keep her climax at bay while making the racket she was for him, fluttering her feet, throwing her head side to side, smacking the back of the Throne, Marshall did not know. But making it work was her problem, not his. He went back to enjoying what he was doing, setting just a little bit of his attention to making sure she did not sneak one through, using her display to camouflage it.
He finished up, matching her noise and thrashing about with plenty of his own and a few good, hard spanks for good measure.
“Are you happy, Sir?” Anita asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Very much, Miss Rhodes. Thank you,” he said. “You may unbind your wrists whenever you are ready.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, but made no immediate move to free herself from the ersatz restraints. He understood exactly why. He was still inside of her, letting his hips drift slowly. If the conditioning was starting to take, she must have known she was at risk of going over as soon as she removed the physical cue to not orgasm. When he finally stepped away from her and nudged her off of The Throne so he could sit, he noticed that her knuckles were white as she still dug her nails into the palms of her hands.
“Go clean up, get us some water, and come kneel down beside me, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir.” She got up and returned a couple minutes later, handing him a tall glass of water with ice cubes clanking in it.
Anita knelt beside him, and he put his hand on the back of her neck. “Are you ready to kill me, yet, Miss Rhodes? Speak freely, please.”
“Almost, Sir. One more round of that and I will be.”
He smiled at her, took her by the hair and playfully shook her head a bit. “You really shouldn’t tell me things like that. I’m likely to use them against you.”
“I suspect you knew that already, Sir.”
“Yes, I did. I like having it confirmed, though.”
They drank their water in silence, looking out over the city on a Saturday night. The office bui
ldings were mostly dark, the residential towers lit up, and there was a steady flow of cars going up and down the streets.
“It is time for me to undo my work,” Marshall said when his glass was empty.
“It has been a great honor to wear this, Sir.”
“It was a pleasure having someone so lovely as you to put it on.” He stood up and walked her close to the windows. He bent her slightly at the waist and had her rest her hands on the metal structural beam that crossed the wall of windows halfway between floor and ceiling. Marshall then put his hand on the back of her neck to guide her closer, so she was resting her cheek against the glass, putting her in the position of her fantasy about what she’d really love him to do to her.
She kept her mouth shut, but the look in her eyes let him know how cruel he was being to her. Knot by knot, Marshall reversed the process of building the corset, ending up ten minutes later with a pile of rope on the floor. “One of the most wondrous things about rope is the marks it leaves on the skin afterwards,” he said, hooking a finger under her collar and standing her upright. He used a touch to her shoulder to prompt Anita to slowly spin for him, to show off the tracks. All around her body, but most pronounced over her ribs and shoulders, the memory of the rope was still imprinted on her. Not only were the wraps of rope and the knots clear, but in some places, even the twist of the rope itself was visible. “Go. Admire what I’ve done to your canvas, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, walking to the restroom. “Sir. I cannot believe how beautiful this is,” she said a few moments later.
“I had good materials to work with. Now come in here. Clean up the rope and the mess of clothing you left all over the place. You have ten minutes to have everything put up and orderly.”
When Anita was finished with that task, Marshall followed her to The Playground while she put up the rope. “Remove the rest of your clothing.” He pointed to the rolled futon pad. “Put this on the floor at the foot of my bed. You may use a pillow and blankets if you’d like.”
“May I please request your assistance, Sir? Due to the caning, I don’t know if I’ll be physically able to get the boots off.”
“Your feet have swollen?”
“Yes, Sir. And I have lost even more flexibility from other things this weekend.”
“Sit,” he said, pointing to the top of the spanking bench. He unlaced the boots with as much care as he’d put into untying the rope corset. As he pulled each one off, he could feel her entire body wince. While he had her in the position, he also stripped off her stockings, leaving her wearing nothing but the collar, the impressions of rope, and a variety of welts and bruises. He was struck by just how well she wore the marks, how she made no move to hide them, and was actually looking over her body just as he was. There was a small, somewhat sly smile on her face, until she realized he was watching her and she let her expression go blank.
“I am going to read for a while, Miss Rhodes. Perhaps an hour, and then I will turn in. You are free to move about, find something to read yourself, look around at the other items I keep in here, but you will not disturb me. If you think you will need it to help you get to sleep, you may take the vibrator and give yourself one silent orgasm. Just one, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“I understand, Sir. May I go to bed when I am ready, or would you like me to remain awake until you turn in, Sir?”
“You are relieved from tending to me until I wake up in the morning, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Marshall took his book to the living room and poured himself one final glass of wine for the night. In the corner of his awareness, he could hear Anita set up her bed and crawl right into it. When he was done reading, he shut the lights off in the living room, and navigated his way to the bed by just the ambient light of the city outside the windows. He paused at the futon on the floor, to watch Anita sleeping soundly for a minute before tucking in himself.
###
Marshall woke to the sound of water running in the kitchen, and the pale light of a cloudy morning. He sat up and looked around the bedroom. The futon pad and Anita’s bedding were already cleared from the room. By leaning over a bit, he could see her in the kitchen, wearing her robe and setting up the coffee maker.
“Start the coffee now, Miss Rhodes. We will take a shower before you start breakfast prep, though.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes for a little bit, until he heard Anita come into the room. “The shower is ready, Sir.”
Marshall did not need to give Anita any instruction. She automatically started with the same routine as the first time they’d showered together, silently washing his hair and body for him, taking him in her mouth until he tapped her on the shoulder to let her know he was satisfied with the bit of worship she had given. Anita stood up, and asked, “Shall I wash myself, Sir?”
“Just your hair, Miss Rhodes. I will need to inspect the rest of you this morning.”
“Of course, Sir,” she said, putting her head under the stream of water. When she was ready, Marshall started to wash her, beginning with her face. As he rubbed soap into her, he used his fingertips to feel for anything unexpected on or beneath her skin. He watched her eyes and listened to her breath as he went, looking for particularly sensitive spots. She figured out pretty quickly what he was doing, and would tell him if there were any places that seemed more tender than she’d expected.
“This has been a very intense weekend so far, Miss Rhodes. I would thank you for how whole-heartedly you have embraced this experience.”
“I am happy to be pleasing you, Sir.”
“Still, all indications are that you’ve never had this much play in such a short period before. I should abstain from beating you any more today.”
“I trust your assessment, Sir.”
“Does that mean you don’t necessarily agree with it, Miss Rhodes?”
“If you ordered me onto the cross or the horse or the bench again, I go without hesitation, Sir.”
“I’m not done with you quite yet, Miss Rhodes. I’m just not going to beat on you.” He stood up and shut off the water. “Dry me off, then dry yourself off. Put on your pants and robe. Pour my coffee, set it on the table, and start preparing breakfast.”
“Yes, Sir.”
When Marshall got to the kitchen, Anita was busily working. She was reading a card with the instructions for preparing batter and had found the waffle iron while some thick slices of Canadian bacon quietly sizzled in a skillet. She had also remembered how he took his coffee from the day before.
From the way she still stepped very lightly and carefully, she was clearly going to remember the caning for a few days more, but there didn’t appear to be any actual harm done. She looked quite content as she moved around the kitchen, actually.
“Miss Rhodes,” he asked. “Are you humming to yourself?”
“Sorry, Sir,” she said.
“No, please. Continue. It will be that much more enjoyable to crush your joy after breakfast.”
Anita turned and looked at him, with that furrowed brow look he was realizing was her trying to figure out if somebody was pulling her leg or not.
“Yes, Miss Rhodes, I am still planning on doing something cruel to you in a little while, but I am also genuinely enjoying your happiness right now as well.”
“Or course, Sir,” she said, and returned to her work, letting herself start humming again. Self-consciously as first, but slowly easing back into it.
Over breakfast, Marshall asked what she had been humming, and encouraged her to talk about her favorite music. When he could get her to forget herself just a little bit, he found himself enamored of how passionately she felt about it. Only once he had to correct her about forgetting to address him as Sir when she spoke.
As he finished his last sip of coffee, he instructed her to clean the kitchen, undress again, and report to The Playground.
Chapter Seven
When she’d
reported to Sir in The Playground, he had a sheet laid out on the floor. There were two sheathed knives beside it, several lengths of twine, a pile of some light chain, and an unnervingly large number of wooden clothespins. Before she could even start to count them, Sir had the blackout mask on her, and was lowering her down to the floor, laying her on her back.
Almost immediately, she found the head of his cock brushing against her lips. She certainly did not need to be told what was expected of her, and welcomed the distraction from dreading whatever it was he had planned. She remembered him warning her that he had some sort of cruelty in store. Anita also recalled that on Friday, he’d mentioned wanting to do something to her that would leave persistent marks for several days. It seemed like whatever he had in mind was above and beyond the bruises and welts he’d already covered her with.
While servicing him kept her from obsessing too badly about his plans, she could not forget the sight of the two knives. He had mentioned persistence for days, not permanent, but that still seemed to leave a lot open.
Anita felt Sir move around a bit, careful to not get too far from her mouth. Something cold and pliant fell on her belly. She suspected it was the bundle of light chain.
“I need you to open your legs for me, Miss Rhodes.”
Anita complied, and he finally pulled out of her mouth. She heard him move down to her waist. A hand settled on her left leg, over the muscle at the front of her thigh. He pinched the skin, and she felt a sharp pressure. Enough to make her suck her breath in, but not terrible.
“Good, Miss Rhodes. Good.” He pinched her other thigh, and she felt the same bite on that side. “Can you guess what these are?”
“Clothespins, Sir.”
