Smoke

by C. P. Mandara

  “Do you like shoes?” The question made me smile, which pleased him enormously, even though he hadn’t received his answer yet. I’d already thought the answer to this question through. It hadn’t taken a genius to discover that Nieman had a shoe fetish, and it would be preferable if his sexual partner shared his enthusiasm on the subject. At least, I hoped that was the case.

  “I love them,” I purred, crawling forwards towards him, resting my face a few inches away from his very sticky and wet, prized possessions. Besides, I wasn’t really lying. I did like shoes. Jimmy Choo’s, Manolo Blahnik’s, Zanotti’s, Louboutin’s… all of these I adored. Shoe shopping also happened to be one of my number one favourite pastimes, too, after killing people, of course. A girl’s gotta get her priorities straight.

  Nieman growled and came forward with both hands to grab my cheeks. If I was a little taken aback as his fingernails dug into my face, I didn't let it show. Continuing to smile, I reassured him my enthusiasm for all things leather-bound with heels was just as great as his.

  "I would have you parade around naked in heels every damn day. Five-inch heels, six-inch platforms… a different pair for every single day of the damn year. Clothes would never grace your body ever again. Why cover up such beauty? The heels would merely accentuate those amazing curves you possess. You would look fucking amazing strutting about my apartment." Nieman sat there in his own dreamland for a moment or two, and I was waiting for the clock to tick down, so I didn't disturb him.

  "I love what heels do to the female form. They elongate your legs and lift up your ass, pushing those beautiful glutes up high. They also make the leg look slimmer and more toned – and they add a bit of height, which is always a wonderful thing. I have no problem with a woman that towers over me." It was a good thing, too. Nieman looked as if he was all of five foot nine so I wouldn't have to be that tall to tower over him in a pair of five-inch heels. Oh, what fun my psychiatrist would have with this one.

  "Lay on the bench, stomach first, with your legs hanging off the end." My good humour fled in an instant. What now? I didn't make the mistake of hesitating, though. Crawling back towards the bench, a myriad of thoughts ran through my head, and I wondered if this would be the moment I had been dreading. By my estimation, we had around ten minutes left, and as of yet, Nieman hadn't got anywhere near me. If there was any chance of him bidding on me, surely he'd want to test the waters first?

  The cold leather on the bench was not soothing. My clammy skin immediately stuck to it, and I wondered what I should do with my arms. It felt ungainly to have them hang towards the floor, but there was barely any room for them on the bench. What a dilemma.

  "Hands hanging down towards the floor, Thirty-Eight. It's a little hard to handcuff them, otherwise." Of course. I'd completely forgotten about the restraints. How nice it was of Nieman to remind me. Letting my hands dangle freely, I felt my insides clench. What was the man going to do now? Was this where the dreaded zipper would fall, and I would get my first taste of what it meant to serve in a slave capacity? It was ridiculous that I was so nervous about it. If I had a successful evening, very shortly I would be on my hands and knees daily, servicing anyone my master told me to. This would be my life. Playing with Ten earlier hadn't counted. I'd found Ten deliciously handsome, but that almost certainly wasn't going to happen with my new master. I would just have to figure out a way of keeping my libido enthusiastic, and though it would be a challenge, it was nothing I couldn't handle.

  Nieman fastened both my wrists and ankles to the bench with speed borne of experience and skill, and there was nothing left for me to do but wait. For some reason, I was still calm, perhaps because we'd had a few minutes together, and while the prospect of him taking me from behind wasn't going to get me excited, at least the idea wasn't terrifying me, either. Technically, what I was doing here wasn't new to me. On assignment, I'd used sex before as a means of achieving my goal, and I would do so again. The only difference was that this time, I would have to assume a position of weakness for some considerable time before I got a chance to get close to my target. I'd need to get used to being walked all over regularly before I could be trusted around Dumortier – and I was being optimistic that I stood any chance of meeting him. The next buyer was the ‘maybe' of the equation, and there was every chance they might change their mind again by the time their appointment came round.

  The sound of something tearing made my ears prick up, but I just managed to stop myself craning my neck around to see where the noise was coming from. It sounded like a condom wrapper, and the last thing I needed was to see Nieman with his cock out, wrapping a large circle of plastic around himself. Instead, I concentrated on relaxing my body, so whatever was about to happen would go a little more smoothly.

  When something thudded into my ass, it gave me quite a shock. This was not what I had been expecting.

  “I bought these especially for today.” There was another thud upon my ass, and I whimpered.

  "I'm using Converse sneakers, and although they're not particularly glamorous, they deliver just the right kind of ‘thud.'" He stopped for a moment, to bring the shoe in question round to my face so I could get a good look at it. "Do you approve?"

  The sneaker was a soft, baby-pink, and when it caught the light, it shone. Somehow the material had been threaded through with glitter, and it would have been the perfect footwear for a little girl. Nieman had pressed the tongue and upper inside the shoe, so it was easier to wield, and I had a feeling my poor ass was not going to be happy in a few minutes.

  "Absolutely," I lied. "It's gorgeous. Please, would you spank me again, Sir? It feels amazing." The slutty tilt to my voice was just right, and I was proud of myself. Perhaps I would get into the swing of things here, after all. Now feeling rather happy at the thought of a spanking, rather than full-blown sex, I felt the weight of dread in my stomach lift a little.

  A firm rap at the door then sounded, and while I was rejoicing at the thought of my final few minutes, Nieman sighed.

  “How is my time with you over already? We’ve only just started,” he moaned. I figured that was a good sign. If I could just see my last five minutes through without a hitch, there was a good chance I might get a bid later. “But seeing as how you asked so nicely, it would be wrong of me to leave you without paddling your ass first, no?”

  The sneaker pummelled my left ass cheek and then my right, over and over again. All the while, Nieman was talking to me. “When you belong to me, I think we’ll get you your own pair of sneakers with your name printed on the side. Would you like that?” Although I nodded, he didn’t seem concerned with my answer because he kept on talking. “I will spank that beautiful ass every day, Thirty-Eight. Perhaps I’ll even have a collection of shoes to use upon those delightful curves. Hmm, that reminds me. There’s one final thing I want to try with you.

  Here it comes, I thought. The moment I had been dreading had arrived, but I didn’t feel too bad about it now. I knew we had less than five minutes left, so whatever he was about to do would be quick.

  He came to stand in front of me with the sparkly pink pump and held it in front of my face. "Kiss it," he demanded, and I happily complied. At least this one was fresh out of the packet. It still had that factory ‘new' smell, and there wasn't a speck of dirt on it. If I did end up with Nieman, one thing was abundantly clear – while my clothes shopping would be put on hold for the foreseeable future, I would probably own more shoes than Imelda Marcos - though half of them might be for spanking my ass.

  “Good girl,” he said, and then patted my head. When he pulled a condom out of his pocket, though, all of my good humour immediately evaporated. This was it. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Close your eyes and think of Ten. How bad can it be? He’s got three minutes left at best.

  The tear of the foil wrapper was much quieter than the earlier noise I had heard, so I figured the sneakers must have been in some kind of plastic packet. Nieman had obviously had to free them from a wrapper. This sound was
far more dangerous though. My eyes were glued to that little packet, and as he released the small circle into his hand, my breathing stopped entirely.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this next bit,” he purred, bending his head down to give my ear a nip. I jumped.

  “Skittish little thing, aren’t you?” Smiling shyly, I played my part to perfection. Just a couple of minutes to go, I told myself. Hang in there. Nieman then moved back behind me, and my ears strained for the sound of a rasping zipper. Any second now, I thought. My body tensed in preparation, but no such sound came. Then I heard the wet, plastic snap of a condom being applied, so I figured my ears weren’t quite as good as I’d thought. Trying hard not to brace myself for something nasty, I kept as calm as relaxed as was humanly possible - considering the circumstances.

  When something pressed for entry at my pussy, the shock of it made me jump again. Nieman laughed. Even though I'd been expecting it, it still came as a surprise. Whatever Nieman was slowly pushing inside me was not a cock. It was too hard and too cold. It could have been made of wood, or perhaps metal, but because a condom was wrapped around it, it was hard to tell. It felt amazing, though.

  Growling out in lust, I lifted my hips up off the bench and moaned in appreciation. Now that I knew it wasn’t Nieman who was thrusting inside me, the game had changed. I was completely on board with this side of things.

  “See. I told you you’d like it. What a pretty little pet you’d make, sweetheart.” He slowly pushed the object inside me, in and out, soft, long, thick strokes that had me panting in mere seconds. Although I was dying to know what it was, I wasn’t curious enough to want him to stop. This was exactly what I needed right now.

  “That’s it, Thirty-Eight. Push those hips up to meet me, and feel the length of it sliding inside you.” I groaned again in heat. “You’re so damn tight, and the sight of you all slippery and wet is fucking incredible. What say I take your ass as well?”

  Groaning in agreement, it took me a second or two before I could swallow and say, “Yes please, Sir. Take my ass. Please fuck my ass.” This talking dirty wasn’t quite as hard as I’d thought. When you were aroused to melting point, it came rather easily.

  “My, what a naughty mouth you have, Thirty-Eight. Normally, I would have to punish you for saying things like that. Fortunately for you, there isn’t enough time this evening, but as soon as I get my hands on you – I have a feeling I’ll enjoy punishing you every damn day. Now brace yourself, slave. It’s going in.”

  My ass was a little more reluctant to accept the brutally hard object, but Nieman applied more lubricant, and with his thumb, he began to slowly stretch me open. Working quickly, he then used two fingers, repeatedly diving in and out until he was satisfied I was relaxed enough for round two.

  “You ass feels almost virginal. You are incredibly tight. What a sight you are, Thirty-Eight. I feel like I could fuck you for days.” Hmm, we had mixed feelings about that, but right now I wasn’t going to complain.

  When the object came at me, at first, it had me whistling in pain. The initial entry was a little brutal, but Nieman helped me through it with his finger on my clit.

  “That’s it, slave. Relax and push out. Take it all inside you like a good little girl.” Not that I had any choice in the matter, but I did as instructed.

  "Perfect. Just a little further, slave, and you'll be there. One last push and it will be buried up to the hilt." He was as good as his word. There was a final push, and my ass began to contract wonderfully around whatever he had hidden back there. With his fingers working my clit, I was seconds away from orgasm. It felt amazing. Maybe life with Nieman wouldn't be so bad, after all.

  Another knock then came at the door, snapping us both into the here and now.

  “Damn it,” Nieman swore, and slowly removed whatever he had stashed in my ass. He came round to squat in front of me, and there, lo and behold, was the object he’d been fucking me with. It was a black, ladies court shoe. He had used the flared, Cuban heel to penetrate me and I was impressed I’d managed to take it inside me at all.

  “I can’t believe our time is up so soon,” he moaned, and the petulant little frown on his face almost made me laugh. “Never mind. You’ll be mine soon enough.” Peeling off the condom, he then held the heel of the court shoe to my mouth and guessing he wanted me to kiss this, too, I obliged.

  “You are absolutely perfect, Thirty-Eight. I’ve got to go now, but I promise I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

  With that, Nieman strode out of the room, leaving me horribly frustrated and desperate to come. I swear there was no justice in the world. Now I had to get ready for interested buyer number two. Would they be as crazy as Nieman? Time would tell.

  Chapter Eleven

  The room burst into activity then, with Cassie and Lisa flying around me. They tidied up, undid my restraints, and began to run the shower again.

  Cassie was the first one to speak to me.

  “You feeling okay, hun?” she asked. I nodded. All in all, the whole thing had gone rather well, I thought.

  “He seemed happy enough when he left. Well done.” Cassie gave me the thumbs up sign and looked pleased. “Now you have one more interested party to impress, and then you can rest for a bit. If you can get a bidding war going, then you’re going to make quite an impression.” I nodded my understanding. I’d already figured that one out.

  Lisa popped her head out from the bathroom door and beckoned me over. Great. I was all for being ‘squeaky clean,' but this was turning into an OCD. Sighing inwardly, I did as instructed.

  Now that time was of the essence, I had a very quick shower while Lisa helped me put my hair up and get it under a shower cap. After I'd had two rounds with a pink, scented bath sponge and an evil loofah, I was already being towelled off with a thick, fluffy, bright white Egyptian cotton towel. Then it was back to the beginning for more scented body lotion, and a redo of my make up, and hair. Before I almost knew what was happening, I was back on the bench awaiting my next buyer in an empty room. Although I wasn't wearing restraints just yet, I felt like a sitting duck, and my apprehension arose accordingly. While they were working, Cassie and Lisa spoke to me, gently, soothingly, and in soft, hushed tones that were supposed to relax me. I barely heard them. My stomach was tied up in knots so tight that it would take someone in the merchant navy to get me out of them.

  I had got off lightly with Nieman. I didn't expect to be that lucky the second time around, and I was going to have to figure out a way of dealing with my sexual apprehension. It was something I'd managed to do before, and I would do it again. It would just take a little ‘adjustment' on my part.

  When the girls left me, it was almost a relief. I didn't need to keep eye contact or make polite noises of understanding anymore. The eerie quiet of the empty room was no more comforting, though. The wait this time was much longer than the last. It had my insides crawling with a thousand insects, all of which were mean, hungry, biting, and desperate to find a way out. I suddenly felt terribly claustrophobic, and the room appeared to get smaller and smaller the longer I was left in it. Inching closer towards the door with every second that ticked by, I couldn't help but wonder if I was about to lose it. All I wanted to do was run. There was a sixth sense screaming at me to get the hell out of here, and fighting the urge to flee was exhausting. I had never had this on an assignment before, and I took it as a bad omen. My fingers had just reached out, shakingly, to close themselves around the door handle, when it suddenly moved in front of me. Immediately spurred into action, I jumped back as far as my feet would allow and hit the ground in my slave pose, banging my head in the process. Hopefully, whoever was coming through the door wouldn't be paying enough attention to notice.

  The door opened sending a waft of cold air rushing over my skin, and then closed quietly, with a tiny click. There was no other sound in the room, bar the furious thump of my heart pumping, and I wondered if my buyer had walked in only to walk straight back out again.
For the longest moment, I knelt with my head pressed into the floor, wondering if I should rise up to take a peek or not. After another minute had passed by without a sound, I decided to lift my head a couple of inches off the floor and have a discreet look around.

  "Ahh. So you are alive then." Banging my head on the floor yet again, I nearly cursed out loud. The reason was two-fold. One, it had bloody hurt, and two, the accent was English, and I'd been hoping against hope for a French one. Disappointment washed through me, and the taste was thick and unpleasant. Telling myself sternly to step up to the challenge, as I would need a bid if I wanted a chance at Alain in the future, I decided that I was going to pretend that this man was him. If I didn't look at him, I could imagine that he was the most attractive man on earth, and that couldn't hurt my chances of a successful auction, surely?

  Thinking quickly, I tried to remember all the advice I had been given in order to tackle Dumortier. What had James told me again? The same thing, Cassie had, if I remembered correctly. Show a bit of attitude and don't be afraid to answer him back. It was a somewhat perilous game when there were restraints made of cold, hard steel in the room, but I guessed I could give it a shot.

  Deciding that it was about time I set eyes on the Englishman, I relaxed my shoulders and began to sit up. No sooner had my back arched, than a foot came crashing into my neck, pinning me back towards the floor.

  “Did anyone say you could move?” All of a sudden the temperature in the room dropped to below freezing. The calm, jovial voice I had heard on entering had now taken on a brittle, nasty edge and it warned me that there would be consequences for my actions. Too bad. Cassie had told me to give this jerk some attitude, so that’s exactly what I was going to dish out.