“Wait here,” he said.
He wasn’t going to leave her!?
“Master?” she called out.
Kyle left the room. Fuck, now what?
Several moments later, the door opened again.
It was another one of the chefs, pot bellied with a thick mustache. He chuckled at the sight of her. “Someone’s been a naughty girl.”
Liandra flushed with embarrassment. She was completely helpless. Kyle’s will held her down as surely as the thickest chains.
“Who’s your Master?” the man asked.
“Kyle,” she said.
The man was shocked. “Kyle Lampert? No way.”
She assumed it was the same Kyle. “Yes, but the arrangement is temporary.”
“Damn, I don’t believe it. Kyle hasn’t been with anyone since...well, it’s been a long time.”
“Since Vanessa, you mean?” It was odd having a conversation like this, bent over bare assed, looking up at the man.
“Yeah. You never saw two people in love like those two. I don’t think he’ll ever love another like her.”
Liandra had a sinking feeling. Was Kyle just being polite, telling her he loved her? Was he just role playing for the weekend? This chef was right, it was all too shocking.
What if Kyle had left, what if he’d woken up from whatever dream state he was in and come to his senses? He’d probably been too embarrassed or ashamed to talk to her directly. Rather than let her down or disappoint her he’d just made a quick exit.
Liandra got up and found her skirt.
“Where you going?” the chef asked.
“I need some air.” She was out the door, looking for her own exit.
Like a rat in a maze, but which way to go? She opted for further back, deeper into the kitchen. There had to be a back way, into some alley preferably.
The fire exit let out into a parking lot, but that was just as good.
She was free.
Too bad she didn’t have her wallet, purse or cell phone. Fuck, now what?
Liandra ran to the corner, trying to orient herself. There was something familiar about the location, but what?
The address on the paper from Virgil; that was it! She was on Fox and Fourth, just two blocks away. She prayed someone would be there. It was odd she’d memorized it; she usually wasn’t good with things like that.
Fate, she thought, her heels clicking down the lonely sidewalk.
Lonely, like her and Kyle and the whole fucking world.
What difference did anything make? You loved people and they died or else you didn’t have anyone to love at all.
CHAPTER TEN
A pretty little Native American woman opened the door. The place was a brownstone, tightly wedged between a dozen others on the residential street. “Can I help you?” she said.
Liandra took a moment, spellbound by her beauty. She had smooth brown skin, large almond eyes, a perfect oval face and carved red lips. Her nose was a button. She was wearing cut offs and a fringed vest that barely covered her proportionate, well shaped breasts. Her belly was perfectly concave. She had nice legs and tiny bare feet. She wasn’t any taller than five feet. Her lustrous black hair was braided down her back.
What caught Liandra’s attention most, though, was the collar, high and beaded. It looked like one of the ones Virgil had shown her. Was this girl one of his slaves?
“I’m looking for Virgil,” Liandra said.
The little woman cocked her head. “You know him?”
“In a manner of speaking...”
“Come in,” she extended her hand. “Please.”
The smell of incense was in the air. There was a bear skin rug on the floor and colorful horse blankets over a threadbare, but very homey looking couch. There was a wood coffee table with shellacked tree limbs for legs and lots of wall hangings, weavings like in the place where she’d made love with Virgil.
“Won’t you sit down? I will tell him you’re here.”
Liandra sat down on the couch. She knew she wouldn’t want to get up again.
“You’ve been crying,” the woman said.
“A little...”
“I will bring him quickly,” she said.
Penayway walked through a beaded curtain in the doorway. She was barefoot, she moved with perfect feminine grace.
Virgil had to duck to come into the room. Penayway was like a doll beside him. He wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. “Liandra...” His face was full of concern.
She burst into tears at the sight of him.
He allowed her to press her body against him, her cheek to his bare chest. He circled his arm about her tightly. Turning to Penayway he said something in a language she could not understand.
Her answer, however, was clear enough.
“Yes, Master,” said the little Indian woman.
Penayway left them alone. Virgil had Liandra sit back down on the couch. He sat down on the edge of the table, facing her. Leaning forward, he took her hands in his. “Tell me what has happened.”
She took instant comfort from his tone of voice and from the clench of his huge fingers, calloused, but full of wisdom and mercy. Breathing deeply, she told him everything that had transpired, blow by blow since the last time they had seen each other.
Virgil’s brow pinched deeper and deeper as she relayed the events, from Rave’s usage of her to the chance meeting with Kyle. When she’d come full circle, describing how she’d run from the restaurant after being rejected by Kyle he began to ask her questions.
His main interest was in the arrangement she and Kyle had made. Was she indeed to be his slave through the weekend and had he pledged to be her master, had he in any way released her?
She answered painstakingly, feeling like she was talking to some BDSM lawyer. Virgil nodded at last, as though satisfied on some score.
“Liandra,” he said. “You are not a free woman at this moment. You made a pledge of submission from which you are not released. I am honor bound to treat you as what you are.”
She swallowed. “But...what does that mean?”
“You will find out,” he said. “Kindly rise and remove your clothing.”
Liandra was too stunned to disobey. This was hardly the kind of sympathy she expected. “Virgil, what are you going to do?”
“You will address me as Master,” he instructed. “You will not speak without permission. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she rasped. “Master.”
Virgil took the spot on the couch that Liandra had been occupying. He leaned back, arms on the back, legs spread. His casual dominance filled the room. She stood before him weak kneed. She wanted to explain, she wanted to ask more questions, but she’d been given orders.
She had no choice...but to strip. She unbuttoned the blouse as she had for Kyle. She felt numb, but she couldn’t help the tightness in her nipples or the heat between her legs. She was a slut for humiliation, just like Rave said. It didn’t matter what man, what dick, so long as she was being treated like shit.
That wasn’t fair, though, was it? Virgil wasn’t abusing her, just dealing with her as what she was supposed to be...a slave. But why was he making this her fault? She hadn’t run out first, Kyle had. Hadn’t he?
The blouse slipped off her shoulders. She revealed her breasts, tender and ready. She undid the clasp on her skirt and let it slide down her legs. She was naked underneath. Was he surprised, impressed? He didn’t show it.
Liandra stepped from her shoes, setting her bare feet down on the thick, soft rug. Virgil called out for Penayway. She appeared as if out of thin air. He issued another order in their native language.
“Yes, Master,” she bowed.
“Kneel, slave,” said Virgil to Liandra.
Liandra sank down to the carpet.
His lips thinned. “Is that how your master taught you to kneel?”
But he’s not my master; she wanted to scream, not really.
Liandra tried to remember the correct pose.
Back on her heels, legs wide apart, hands behind her head, back arched to push out her breasts.
“You’re going to be punished, Liandra,” he said. “Do you have any questions?”
Did she ever!
“Why am I being punished? What for?”
He arched a brow. The gesture snapped through her like a whip. She repeated herself, more respectfully, like a slave. “Master, why is the slave being punished?”
“You know the answer to that already.”
She flushed red. “I disobeyed my master. I didn’t stay in position. But Master,” she added quickly. “He had already left the room and—”
“Silence!” he roared. “I have had enough of your disobedience.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to his bare feet.
Liandra fell to her palms and pressed her lips. Taking no chances she continued to lick and kiss both feet until ordered to stop. “Back up,” he said.
She crawled backwards, several feet.
Penayway was on hand, waiting for a fresh order. She held a clay jar in her hands.
Virgil nodded, signaling for Penayway to approach him. The girl set the jar down on the floor and knelt between his legs and opened his pants. He had no underwear on. His huge, mouth watering cock flopped out. Virgil raised his ass from the sofa allowing Penayway to pull his pants down his legs. He spread his legs, satisfied, naked.
Liandra could not help noting the strong odor emanating from the jar. Not quite foul, but strong and challenging none the less.
Penayway went to work on Virgil’s cock. Treating it as the tool of a god, she wrapped her small hands about the base, gently stroking him to erection. Liandra watched in fascination as the cock filled with blood, becoming turgid before her eyes. Was Liandra going to have to service him? That hardly seemed like punishment.
There was the jar, though. She had a bad feeling about that.
Virgil’s cock was fully erect. He patted Penayway on the head, murmuring for her to cease. “Liandra,” he said. “You are to receive a very old punishment, one practiced among my people upon disobedient women. I am afraid it will be long and difficult. You will suffer no lasting harm, though you will be uncomfortable.”
Liandra watched as Penayway reached into the jar. The contents were thick on her fingers, a yellowish paste.
“The herb is natural,” he said. “Harmless, as I said. But effective in discipline. Penayway here is a very good girl, I seldom use it on her, but I would not hesitate and she knows it. Isn’t that right, slave?”
“Yes, Master,” she said, applying a thin even coat to her master’s cock.
Liandra was definitely regretting coming here. If only she hadn’t remembered the address...
“There are three phases,” Virgil explained. “You will suffer all of them. For the first, you will taste it from my cock. You will lick it clean and do a thorough job, or we shall start again.”
The paste glistened, mocking her. She’d be sick...
“Master,” she protested. “I can’t do this.”
“Slave, I have other punishments,” he said quietly, “which would make this one seem light.”
Liandra whimpered. She crawled forward, feeling like a contestant on some obscene reality show, only with no fabulous prizes.
She hesitated one moment too long, staring at the dick in her face.
He took her head, pushed her face onto the tip of him.
At once her mouth was filled with a hot, bitter sensation. She moaned in protest. He released her, but his orders were sharp. “Clean my dick, slave, or you will lick it from the whole of my body.”
Tears filled her eyes. Her stomach roiled. Her tongue shook. She moved to plug her nose as the paste coated the back of her throat.
“Hands behind your back,” he ordered.
Liandra had to smell it, like liniment and hot sauce, mixed with ancient mud. It tasted of mud, too, when it wasn’t burning. It would serve him right if she threw up, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She had to take her punishment.
Kyle had called him her mentor. What a joke!
Or was this something mentors did?
I’m through with BDSM, she thought. As soon as I am out of here, I will never yield again, never play with a whip or get on my knees for anyone. I’ll be the dominant, she decided. Men will crawl to me for a change.
Liandra coughed, extra loud so he would feel sorry for her. He didn’t. He made her keep going, working over every miserable little spot, using her saliva to moisten the paste and get it in her mouth. It was gross. And it was making her pussy flood.
She continued to slaver over him, running her tongue up and down, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of mud flavored spit. The whole ball of it sat in her stomach. Harmless, he’d said. Hah. Maybe he should try eating some.
Merciful heavens, why was the man so well endowed? Her mouth was on fire. She felt like she had charcoals in it. The smell had settled into a faint skunk odor. She’d never get clean again, never.
“Sit up,” he ordered when she was done.
She looked at him, miserable, sick.
“You may thank me for disciplining you,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” she choked. “For disciplining me.”
She glanced at Penayway, kneeling across the room, back on her heels. She’d wiped her hands off on a cloth and was doing some needlepoint.
The little bitch.
“You’re interested in my slave?” he said.
“No, Master,” she said quickly.
“A slave should mind her own affairs,” he counseled.
“Yes, Master,” she replied, miserable, the liquefied paste still trickling down her throat.
“Do you know, slave, what the name Penayway means?”
“No, Master.”
“It means obedient pet,” he informed her.
“Oh,” said Liandra.
“She earned the name as she has earned every one of her privileges.”
“But you won’t keep her,” Liandra said testily. “You told me, you’ve had lots of slaves.”
“But she is mine now,” he said pointedly. “And that is all that matters.”
Liandra evaded his eyes. He had just condemned her outright. She was Kyle’s slave tonight, she should have stayed with him.
So maybe she did deserve to suffer.
“Phase Two,” he announced.
Penayway put down her needle point and came back over. She took the jar and re-coated Virgil’s cock. Liandra whimpered, putting her head to the floor. “Please, Master, don’t make me lick anymore, I’ll be a good slave, I’ll be an obedient pet.”
“Stop your whining,” said Virgil. “Phase Two is not Phase One.”
Liandra was only slightly reassured. Clearly he had something in mind...
“You may get on all fours,” said Virgil.
He issued it in the form of a request, though Liandra knew there was no refusing. “What are you going to do?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
Virgil pushed at her ass with his heel, knocking her down on her face. “Were you given permission to speak?”
“No, Master.” She struggled back up onto her hands and knees.
“Phase Two,” he announced, positioning himself behind her. “You will feel the paste inside you.”
“Nooooo...”
He thrust himself deep and hard into her treacherously wet pussy. Almost at once she felt the gritty heat, like popcorn all up and down her canal, like sizzling oil, not enough to burn her alive, but enough to make her cry out.
“This is a disciplinary fuck,” Virgil explained. “A punishment fuck. Phase Two out of three.”
The words, discipline and punishment and fuck made a potent combination, just right to ignite a submissive girl’s heart. “Oh, god, oh god,” she cried out, unable to hold back. “F—fuck me...”
“You are a willful slut, Liandra,” Virgil complained, though he seemed not to regard it as a fatal flaw.
“Yes, Master, yes...�
�� she cried out.
She came all over his pasty cock, not bothering with Penayway hovering nearby or anything else. She was getting off; she was being made to surrender to her true self. As for her behavior, she was being cleansed, forgiven through pain and humiliation. She wouldn’t need to carry the burden about for whatever she had done wrong to Kyle. And for that she would forever be grateful to Virgil.
Virgil punished her a while longer and then he pulled out.
Phase Three.
More of the paste, a fresh layer to his as yet unexpended organ and then, inevitably, into her ass, the one remaining aperture. This time the flames encompassed her very soul, cleansing purifying. She was a wayward, naughty slut, a runaway bitch, a treacherous cunt who didn’t know what she wanted. They should line up to beat her, all the men she’d deceived.
Or maybe just one...the man she wanted to take her heart, to take her body? She wasn’t really a bad girl, was she? Any more than Penayway? Just a simple little submissive, a lost sheep...
Remarkably, Virgil did not come.
It was punishment, he told her, not time for master’s pleasure.
Penayway took her afterwards to clean herself up. A bath was drawn and Liandra was given a warm, spicy drink to clear the taste from her mouth. She was left to bathe herself with a special healing soap. Penayway showed her the robe she could put on afterwards. It was made of silk and patterned with Chinese characters.
She took her time, letting the water soothe her body. So much to think about and reflect on. She felt safe in this home, despite having been punished here, or maybe because of it, she knew that no hurt would ever come to her here. Virgil would give sanctuary.
The robe was heaven on her skin. She could make love to the fabric. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought, to be tied down with strips of it to the bed of some powerful sultan?
She heard sounds from the living room. Peeking around the corner, she saw Virgil taking his slave. Little Penayway was naked on her hands and knees, her master behind her, mounted. Her cunt glistened, glorious, clean shaven and fully penetrated. Liandra marveled how she could take such an enormous cock in her small body. Virgil was driving her hard, expending his full male energies. She held herself obediently, pushing back against him for his pleasure with every thrust. Her small, shapely breasts hung free, available for his caresses or slaps.
Yes, Master! Page 13
