Rave pulled his cock. “You’re one helluva fuck, Mel, I’ll give you that,” he chuckled.
“I love you, baby,” said Mel, going to Rave where he’d sat himself back on the couch.
“Not until you clean up,” Rave pushed her away. “You got fucking come all over your face.”
“Sorry, Rave.”
“Lee, lick my dick off,” he said, watching Melody’s ass shake on the way to the bathroom.
Humiliated, crushed, Liandra crawled to him, using her tongue to remove the other woman’s fluids. She cleaned Rave’s cock thoroughly, sucking his balls, as well. Fresh tears dotted her eyes. There had to be a better slavery than this.
“What are you simpering about? Get me another beer,” he growled.
“Yes, Master.”
Liandra wiped her eyes and staggered to the kitchen. She tried to keep her mind clear. This couldn’t go on too much longer could it?
She re-emerged into the living room to find Melody, modeling one of her blouses from her closet. Melody was wet from the shower. She was soaking the silk through, the material sticking obscenely to her skin.
“Please,” Liandra protested weakly. “That’s very expensive.”
Melody whirled on her. “Are you saying it’s too good for me—slave?”
Liandra didn’t want to anger the young woman, but she was afraid the garment would be ruined. It was far too tight for her as it was, her huge, tight breasts stretching the buttons far beyond what they were make to take.
“N-no, Mistress,” Liandra degraded herself. “I...I just meant that it’s one of my work blouses.”
“Your work should be whoring,” she sneered. “Ten dollar blow jobs downtown.”
Liandra lowered her eyes.
Melody smiled in triumph at Liandra’s easy subservience. “Get over here and kiss my feet, slave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“No, walking,” Melody stopped her. “You can crawl. On your belly.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Liandra abased herself, her belly and pussy to the floor. The carpet fiber rubbed her sensitive nipples.
“I’m making her crawl like a worm,” Melody giggled.
“You’re a natural mistress,” said Rave. “Of course it helps to have a pushover cunt for a slave, right, Lee?”
“Yes, Master,” she called up from her place of utter abjection.
Liandra slithered until she reached Melody’s feet. Melody put one foot down on her neck. “Kiss it all over,” she pushed the other to Liandra’s lips.
Liandra pressed her mouth, as servile as possible. Melody ground her heel cruelly.
“Y—you’re hurting me,” Liandra complained.
“Shut up, slut, and suck my toes.”
Liandra was forced to take the foot in her mouth. Melody made her open wide, fucking her face. Liandra slobbered and sucked obediently.
“I’ll bet she won’t mind if I wear her clothes now, will she?” Melody asked Rave.
“I don’t know,” he said sardonically. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Melody released Liandra’s mouth. She stepped up, pressing both feet on her back. “Hey, slave, is it okay if I try on your clothes?”
“Yes,” Liandra groaned, barely able to breathe.
“Beg me to.”
“P—please...try on my clothes.”
Melody laughed. “Nah, you have old lady clothes.”
“Come here,” said Rave, talking to Melody. “I want those tits.”
“They want you, too.” The girl went to him, eager, the perfect slut.
Liandra lay face down on her floor, bathed in sweat, listening to them make out. Eventually their breathing grew heavier. She heard Melody moan.
“Oh, yeah, fuck me, you goddamn stud.”
The springs of the couch were creaking.
“You fucking, horny, gorgeous little slut,” he growled, pumping her.
They came together, a wild swirl of voices and sighs and gasps.
“Lee, get us some towels,” she heard Rave order.
Liandra had to clean them up from sex. After that they made her serve as a footstool, on her hands and knees while they watched some TV.
“It was nice to meet you,” said Melody at the door as they left some two hours later. “You have a great apartment.”
The sudden politeness was surreal.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, not knowing what else to say.
“See you around, kiddo.” Rave gave her a peck on her cheek that burned far deeper than any lash of the belt.
“Yeah...around,” she replied hoarsely.
Still numb, Liandra went to take a shower. Melody had left towels on the floor along with her shampoo and conditioner. There was no point in caring anymore. She let the water take her weary body...if only her mind could be washed as easily. She’d not forget tonight, not for a long, long while. But what was it she’d remember precisely—the pain, the degradation...the arousal?
Any outsider would tell her she’d just been exploited, abused in the wrong way that had nothing to do with BDSM.
But she’d orgasmed and more than once.
Wasn’t that a bottom line of sorts?
Virgil might have the answer, but she was sure now, more than ever that she must never see him again. Wherever she found herself tomorrow night at their scheduled rendezvous time, it could not be at the coffee shop.
CHAPTER FOUR
Liandra should have known it would happen. A man like Virgil was not likely to take being blown off without some kind of response.
But to show up on the morning after their missed date to the very construction site he’d walked off the job at the day they met...that she hadn’t seen coming.
“Hello,” he said, leaning against his motorcycle on the street outside the construction site.
Liandra beeped her car shut, determined to walk right on past him. “You don’t have any reason to be here, I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“We had a date,” he reminded her. He looked scrumptious and powerful in his white muscle t-shirt and tight black jeans. She glanced at his motorcycle boots, covered in dust.
A slave girl should lick them clean with her tongue...
“You had a date,” she said, trying to stay strong. “You had it all worked out, but it wasn’t what I wanted.”
He pursed his lips, full and dark, like wine, every bit as devastating as she remembered. “I didn’t have you pegged for a brat.”
“I’m not a brat,” she insisted. “A grown woman.”
“A brat is a submissive female who tests and challenges a male, particularly a new one until he puts her in her place.”
She tried to walk past him. “You don’t know my place. You don’t know me. You’re not my type, so let it go.”
“No, girl.” He stopped her with his voice. “You’re not running anymore.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. She realized they’d never exchanged names. How funny. “It’s Liandra, and I’m a woman.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t a woman, Liandra. Girl is a term of affection, devotion.”
She flushed to her toes. “When will you get it through your head, I don’t want your affection.”
“How quickly can you finish your work here?” he asked, ignoring her entreaty.
His singular poise caught her off guard. As always. “Huh? I don’t know,” she replied. “A half hour, maybe?”
“I will wait for you here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing. That’s out of the question.”
Virgil leaned back against his motorcycle, oblivious, a mountain, a rock of total assuredness. It drove her mad. How could he be so sure of what she was going to do when she herself had no clue?
“Do you hear me?”
His face was expressionless.
“Don’t ignore me, damn it!”
In keeping his cool, he was multiplying his control. “A half hour, Liandra. I’ll be waiting.”
The next fifteen minutes were a blur. She barely heard what Tom was saying to her. She kept on smiling, nodding, but she must have had some kind of a vacant look on her face that caught his attention.
“Are you all right, Liandra?”
“I’m fine, Tom, really, let’s keep going.”
Tom frowned, rolling up the blueprint. “I think you need some rest. Frankly I’m worried about you. First it’s that building climbing thing and now you’re acting like some kind of zombie. Maybe you need a vacation or something.”
“I’ll be just fine.” She tried not to sound too brittle. “Really, Tom.”
He nodded, though she could tell from the knitted brow he was still worried. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’ll rest in the meantime?”
“Yeah, sure.” Leave the state, more like. Anything to get away from Virgil and his unwanted advances.
But they weren’t unwanted, were they?
She’d been aroused and flattered by his attention and she’d been thinking of him almost non-stop. Rave’s appearance at her apartment with his silly twit of a girlfriend had barely registered on her radar. It was Virgil in her fantasies; Virgil’s image, his burning eyes, at once compelling and forbidding her. In the dark of night, she’d masturbated, bringing herself to the wildest orgasms of her life, moving her to tears, leaving her with an unspeakable emptiness.
Shivering, filled with heat and cold, she’d crawled into her closet, depositing herself in a ball, shutting herself away as though put there, by him...for his use. Her Master, her world.
And now he wanted to pick her up at a construction site and do know god knows what at ten in the morning?
Like hell.
I’ll use the back way out, she thought, I’ll wander around a while until I’m sure he’s gone and then I’ll come back to my car.
She figured she’d made a clean get away when she heard the motorcycle behind her. Engine revving, he pulled up along side her. She tried to ignore him. Her legs were rubber as she walked.
“Get on,” he said.
“No, Virgil.”
He stopped the bike. “Get on, Liandra.”
She turned to face him. “What is your problem, anyway?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he said.
“Well you obviously do,” she shook out her hair. “Or you wouldn’t be stalking me.”
“You want me to go?”
“Yes...no...I don’t know.”
Fuck, why did she have to be so indecisive?
“Climb on the bike,” he said with a gentleness she couldn’t deny. “I will take you for a ride.”
“How can I trust you?”
“You look in your soul and do what it tells you.”
Liandra considered. “I need to be back here in half an hour.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t promise that.”
She bit her lower lip. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she could feel it.
He helped her over the seat, the leather pressing her straddled thighs. Of all days to wear such a short skirt...
She felt the vibrations through her panties. She was going to leave a wet spot.
“Hang on tight,” he advised.
“I don’t think—,” she was cut short as the bike lurched slightly. Liandra cried out grabbing for dear life.
Her arms circled his waist. His back was solid. He smelled fresh and clean and pure...and very, very male.
His booted foot depressed the accelerator. The machine tore down the street. Liandra closed her eyes, exhilarated...alive. She felt like some kind of princess on a horse’s steed. Better still, riding the back of a dragon.
The wind took her hair. Her heart raced. Almost unconsciously, she rubbed her nipples. There was an aura about the man, some kind of energy he was exuding. It was more than the horsepower he was commanding. It was his heart, his will.
The need to succumb to that will was mounting by the second.
How could a woman do anything but surrender to a man like Virgil?
No wonder he’d owned slaves.
I am going to have to ask him...no beg him to make love to me, she thought.
But how? It didn’t seem appropriate. He was the one to call the shots and he’d already made it clear she wouldn’t get what she wanted necessarily...but what she needed.
She needed sex, though, didn’t she?
They drove on the highway, out of the city. An hour or more, with her snuggled, nestled, dreamy...happy. They stopped for gas at a service station, after exiting just outside a state park, well known for its winding forest trails and breathtaking canyon views.
Virgil dismounted in front of the pump. “Want to stretch your legs?” He lifted her off the bike. “Watch out, you may feel a little woozy at first.”
She nearly collapsed onto the ground. She felt like a newborn babe.
“You have to get used to riding,” he explained.
Liandra went on tiptoes in her heels. She had to crane her neck...
He did not refuse the kiss.
She gave it her all, letting him know she was available...his for the taking.
His lips claimed hers, searing, hard, but not nearly as hard as they could have been. Liandra trembled, thinking how much the man must have been holding back.
Grasping her upper arms, holding at her bay, he asked. “What is it that you want, Liandra?”
She knew at once the question was far from superficial.
“I...I’m not sure,” she replied honestly.
Why do I have to know? She wanted to scream. Wasn’t he the dominant? Why wasn’t he just taking what he wanted, like Rave, like all the ones before him?
“A woman can’t submit if she doesn’t know her heart.”
“She can try,” Liandra quipped.
That was something she really enjoyed with Virgil...being able to make little jokes.
“If we make love,” he said—emphasis on if. “The first time there will be nothing kinky. It will be entirely vanilla.”
She ran her hand boldly over his pectoral muscle. “It doesn’t have to be. I’ve had experience.”
He grasped her wrist, gently removing it and pinning it to her side. “It does have to be,” he said firmly.
“Yes,” she whispered, wanting it to be now, over his motorcycle.
She watched him as he filled the gas tank. The way he inserted the gas nozzle made her think of his cock inside her. He’d be very big. She’d spread very wide, she’d take him. But when...when? What did he want to wait for? Did he want to show her the canyons; big deal. She could do that alone. Why not fuck her before one of them changed their mind.
“You made it sound like you weren’t sure we’d make love, Virgil. Why is that?” she asked.
“Because you might yet change your mind.”
“I don’t see how,” she said boldly.
He pursed his lips, giving no further hints.
They were back on the road without any further conversation.
To Liandra’s surprise, they bypassed the park.
Another half hour or more passed. The road became more and more remote. Finally they came to signs, another gate, flags and some ceremonial carved tree trunks, the faces stacked one upon another.
The sign read “Free Nation of the People of the Hawk Fish.”
Beneath the English were words in another language.
There was a gate house, unoccupied, in obvious disrepair. They flew past, having crossed the border into the Hawk Fish Indian Reservation. Her pulse raced. What did he plan to do here? Tie her up and make her his squaw? Stake her out on the ground and whip her? Give her to a dozen braves to fuck at will?
No...
He’d said there’d be only vanilla sex.
Liandra hadn’t done vanilla since high school. It had been a bore then. What if it was a bore now? Virgil would be disappointed in her. He’d reject her. Oh, god,
why not just tie her and beat her, make her do what he wanted? Then she’d be hot enough, wet enough to get him off.
If his aim is to make me insecure, she thought, he’s certainly found a unique way to do it. No man had ever dominated her like this; and he was doing it without domination.
The secret, she realized, lay in his ability to outguess her. He was outflanking her expectations, zigging when she expected zags and all the while her hormones were raging, the suspense building. She was going to be begging for the sex, just you watch, whatever kind she could get.
They drove past a series of wooden houses, some small individual ones and a few long, barracks style structures. There were also stores, a library and a diner. All in all it looked like a small town. The buildings thinned out, and they were back in the woods.
He took a sharp left onto a dirt road. At the end of it was a structure of wood and bark, very primitive but sturdy-looking.
Virgil parked the bike and helped her off again. “This place belonged to my brother. He died last spring.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she could do something.
“Things are as they are,” he said simply. “Can you walk unassisted?”
“I’m not a cripple,” she laughed.
He took her hand nonetheless. She did not mind this one little bit.
“In here,” he pointed, opening the small, round door. “Is where I will love you, if I do, for the first time.”
“You make it sound like I’d run away,” she exclaimed.
“Some women would.”
“I’m not some women.” She stood on tiptoes again, reaching for his shoulders.
He studied her for a moment, as if to gauge her seriousness, or perhaps her readiness. “So be it,” he said throatily.
Liandra’s stomach tightened, filled with butterflies. It was real. It was going to happen. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”
He read her mind, sparing her the need to say it aloud. “You’re not sure you’ll respond in a vanilla situation.”
She blinked. “Should I be scared of how well you know me?”
“Yes.” His lips were curled the tiniest bit, indicating he was speaking tongue in cheek.
“So what’s your answer, all knowing one?”
“I said it would be vanilla,” he elaborated. “That means no leather, no chains, none of the accoutrements of master and slave. We will meet as man and woman, pure and naked. But that does not mean we will not exchange power; we will find our places, as nature intended for us.”
Yes, Master! Page 5
