When I got there, the big metal door was locked. I knew the room was soundproofed, but I thought I heard the muffled sound of a single scream. I chalked it up to imagination and walked back to the elevator. If I didn’t see him tonight, I could always thank him during the party tomorrow. Maybe I could thank him after the party, too.
I spent the rest of the day trying on outfits from the fully stocked closet in my bedroom. He, or his personal shoppers, had done an amazing job. Everything I tried on fit perfectly. The clothes were all expensive. Their price tags bore numbers that were too large for my poor brain to process. The entirety of my previous wardrobe cost the same amount as a single brassiere or pair of panties. I couldn’t help but feel that he overpaid. No one needed underwear that pricy.
If I had a complaint, it was that the clothes were a bit too conservative for my taste. Less than a week ago, I was a scandalously dressed cocktail waitress with a pocketful of tips and a bevy of male admirers who appreciated the generous curves of a plus size woman. Now I was facing a closet filled with outfits that looked like they belonged on a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints.
I was used to a little more flash in my wardrobe. When I moved from my old apartment, I left the vast majority of my outfits behind. Facing the luxurious, but dull, attire in front of me, I wondered if that had been a mistake. I turned to the crimson Halloween costume. It was more my style. I couldn’t wait to wear it.
Halloween couldn’t come fast enough. I took the car to pick up Sarah, directing the driver through the city streets until we reached Sarah’s apartment. She was waiting on the doorstep and carrying a large duffle bag that presumably held her costume.
I was delighted to see my friend again. We weren’t that close when we worked together, but I was really beginning to appreciate Sarah’s friendship. I saw the look of surprise in her eyes when the driver leaped out of the car to open the door for her. She climbed inside.
“When you said you were taking the car, I didn’t know you meant the limousine,” she exclaimed.
“You mean this old thing?” I asked. We both giggled.
“Wow, you look different,” Sarah said. “I’m not used to seeing you with so much clothes on.”
“I know,” I said. “I feel like a nun. Maybe I should see about getting some of these necklines lowered and some of the hemlines raised.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Sarah said.
We chatted amiably on the ride back to the mansion. Sarah was mid-sentence when we pulled up to the front door. “This is ridiculous,” she said when she finally found her voice.
“Welcome to my world,” I said. We climbed the marble stairs to the front door, and I placed my palm on the glass panel set into the wall. The door slid open, and I smiled happily. I still couldn’t believe that Master trusted me enough to allow my access to his home. It was like living in a post-modern fairytale.
I took Sarah on a tour of the first floor, but we didn’t take the elevator to the basement. The dungeon was kept locked anyhow, and it was the one room in the house that I couldn’t access without Master. Speaking of Master, where was he? We didn’t see him anywhere on the grounds. Either he wasn’t home or he was in the locked room in the basement. I figured he must not be home.
Sarah and I retreated into my bedroom and began getting ready for the party. She opened her duffle bag. In addition to her costume, she had brought a full array of dramatic makeup.
It only took a second to slip into the crimson gown that formed the base of my costume. The garment was sleek and sexy. It was totally unlike any of the dresses hanging in the enormous closet set behind double doors in my bedroom.
I loosened the black velvet ribbons on the front of the stiff corset and struggled to slide it over my upper body. Once it was in place, I straightened it out and made sure my breasts were situated above the top of the corset. Then I tugged the ribbons until they were tight and snug against my body, typing them off into a big bow between my ample breasts. The costume already looked amazing and sexy. I felt adventurous and very, very naughty.
“That looks amazing,” Sarah said. “You’ve got boobs for days.” She laughed.
I pulled on the fingerless lace gloves and inspected my reflection in the mirror. “Does it look like it’s missing something?” I asked.
“Well, it’s got plenty of cleavage, but it could use a little more thigh,” Sarah said. She rummaged around inside her duffle bag and retrieved a small metal sewing scissors. Without asking, she deftly cut a slit in the flowing red fabric from my ankle to the top of my hip. “That’s much better,” she said.
“Now you can see my underwear.” I scowled at the silky cream panties. They didn’t match the Little Red Riding Hood costume one bit.
“There’s no need to be glum. Just take them off,” Sarah said.
I only hesitated for a moment. They really didn’t look right peeking out from beneath the swirl of scarlet that made up the skirt of my costume. I pulled them down and kicked them aside. “You’re right. That really does look better,” I said.
“It does,” Sarah agreed. “Just try not to make any sudden movements or stand downwind. You don’t want to show the goods to everyone. Speaking of everyone, who’s coming to this party?”
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “He didn’t tell me. He just said that it was a small party and I was free to invite a friend.”
Sarah was busy pulling her costume over her head. It was the sexiest Snow White costume that I had ever seen, all ruffles and bows. The red, white, blue and yellow satin shimmered against her tanned skin. The costume even had flouncy little matching panties that showed even time she leaned over even the slightest bit. For the briefest moment, I regretted inviting her. She looked too damned good.
“Do you have any fishnet stockings?” Sarah asked. “They would look amazing underneath that costume.”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. We rummaged through the drawers in the walk-in closet until we found the stockings. There weren’t any fishnets, but there was a pair of thigh-high black lace stockings with an amazing spider web pattern. “How do you think these would look?” I asked.
“They would look as sexy as hell.” Sarah smiled wickedly.
I sat down on a chair, and Sarah dropped to her knees in front of me. She took the stockings from my hands and lifted one of my feet to slide the black lace over my toes. It tickled. Sarah pulled and straightened the stocking expertly as she brought the lace up my calves over my knee and up my thick thigh. The elastic on top was concealed by a black ruffle shot through with silver thread. “I’ll be Little Red Riding Hood never felt this wicked,” I said.
“Or looked this naughty,” Sarah replied.
That’s when I realized that her position on the floor gave her the perfect view of my bare crotch. Curse Master for buying all my panties in beiges and creams, I thought ungratefully. There wasn’t a single pair of black or crimson panties in the bunch.
Sarah pulled the other stocking up my skin as I struggled to maintain my composure. Fortunately she didn’t say a word about my naked womanhood being level with her pretty face. When she was finished, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know why I was being so silly. I pulled on the red cowboy boots. The spider web stockings and crimson cowboy boots looked somewhat anachronistic with the Little Red Riding Hood costume, but it was Halloween. Anything goes.
We had just finished applying crimson lipstick and thick black eyeliner when there was a knock at my bedroom door. “Master requests your presence in the dungeon,” a voice said.
Sarah looked at me questioningly.
“My friend is here,” I said through the closed door.
“Yes,” the voice said. “Master is well aware of her presence. Please don’t be too long.”
I listened for the retreating footsteps to fade away before I spoke. “Are you ready to meet him?” I asked.
“Meet who?” Sarah responded.
“You know who,” I said
. “John Goldman.”
“Master?” she asked.
“Well, yes, he asked me to call him Master, but I don’t think he would expect you to call him that.”
“The girl in the hallway called him Master,” Sarah said.
“Um, I think that was the housekeeper.” We finished the final touches of our makeup in silence. I put on my hooded cape and Sarah slipped into her stiletto heels.
When we were finished, I led the way into the hall. “I have a private elevator,” I told the other girl. “It’s right around the corner.” We turned the corner and got into the metal tube. Within seconds, the doors were opening into the red hallway.
“Oh, this looks interesting,” Sarah said as she struggled to remain upright against the tide of plush red carpeting that threatened to snag at her stiletto heels and send her crashing to the floor. “This carpet is ridiculously plush, she complained.”
“It feels amazing barefoot,” I countered.
Sarah took off her heels and sank her toes into the deep pile. “It does feel nice she agreed. Lead the way.”
“Gladly,” I said. I led my friend to the big steel door and raised my hand to knock. It swung open before my knuckles had a chance to connect with the door.
Master was standing in the doorway. He was barefoot and shirtless. His thick hair was slicked back, and he wore thick kohl liner around his almond-shaped eyes. Master wore tight black leather pants that were like a second skin. They revealed the bulges of his muscles and the fascinating shape of his manhood trapped behind the leather.
I glanced at Sarah. She was spellbound. “Who are you supposed to be?” she asked.
“Well, I’m supposed to be John Goldman,” he said. “In honor of the occasion, feel free to call me Master.”
“He’s hot,” Sarah hissed in a stage whisper that Master clearly heard.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said.
Although I supposed I should be happy that they were getting along so well, I couldn’t help feeling a sharp needle of jealousy pierce my heart at the way they were looking at each other.
“So where’s the party?” Sarah asked nervously.
“You’re the party,” Master replied.
Sarah nearly fainted.
“Relax, Sarah,” I said. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a man before.”
“Honey, I’ve never seen a man who looked like that,” she said.
“You’ve seen him before. You met at the bar. Remember.”
“Come on, Terry. He wasn’t dressed like this.”
“Annabelle,” Master interrupted. “There’s no need to bicker with your invited guest.”
“I wasn’t bickering,” I pouted.
For the first time, I noticed that the room was illuminated by an insane number of candles. The candlelight danced and flickered over the floor, walls and ceiling, giving the room an otherworldly glow. Soft electric lighting augmented the flickering wicks. The melting wax reminded me of the last time I was in this room.
“What’s your friend’s name, Annabelle?” Master asked.
“Her name is Sarah. You met at the bar,” I reminded him helpfully.
“Sarah, you look lovely tonight,” he said.
“Thank you.” She smiled happily, seeming to forget that this was my man she was simpering at.
“You’re not quite as voluptuous as I like, but you’re a pretty girl nonetheless,” he added.
Sarah’s smile faded a notch at the comment, but her eyes were still glued to Master’s bulging crotch. So she couldn’t have been that insulted. She was holding her shoes in her left hand, gripping them so tightly that her fingers were turning white.
As for me, I felt completely ignored and forgotten. I wished that I hadn’t invited Sarah. The longer I looked at her, the more comparisons I made between her long leggy figure and my titanic curves. Despite Master’s comment that she was not voluptuous enough, I felt lacking. I cursed my insecurity. Where was my typical bravada?
“Are you hungry?” he asked Sarah.
“Well, maybe just a little, but not for food,” she said, batting her eyelashes. She giggled in a way that I found ingratiating and annoying. Was she really flirting with my kinky billionaire?
Master took her by the hand and led her to a cross that jutted out of the darkness in the corner of the room while I followed like a puppy dog. He released her hand and gently took her shoes from her other hand before looking into her eyes. “Would you like to play a little game?” he asked.
“Sure,” Sarah said. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight.
“This is called a St. Andrew’s cross,” Master said. “I’m going to strap you to it. Then I’m going to turn you upside down and whip you.”
Sarah giggled. “Okay,” she said. She stepped up to the x-shaped cross and turned around, backing up to the device.
“Not so fast,” Master said. “I want you to take off your dress.”
Sarah barely had the decency to look surprised before she pulled her Snow White costume up over her head. She stood naked except for white thigh-high stockings and ruffled panties. Her diminutive breasts barely poked out above the surface of her ribcage.
“You’re so skinny,” Master said, shaking his head. “If you belonged to me, I’d feed you cupcakes and cheeseburgers until I couldn’t see your ribs anymore.”
“I don’t eat gluten or dairy,” she said, turning around and backing up to the cross once more.
“Perhaps you should take off your drawers,” Master said. It was more like a command than a suggestion.
Once again, Sarah moved away from the saltire. She pulled off her panties and faced him. “Shall I take off my stockings, too?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “You may leave them on.”
She stood against the cross, facing us.
“Turn the other way,” he said.
She obediently turned and faced the cross.
Master finally seemed satisfied. He bound her to the cross by her wrists, waist and ankles. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said.
He slowly spun the cross on its axis until she hung upside down with her hair brushing the floor. I couldn’t see her face, and I noticed that he didn’t ask her if she was still comfortable. She probably wasn’t.
Master pulled a long-tailed whip from the wall and cracked it in the air a few times. At that moment, I was exceedingly glad that it was Sarah tied to the cross and not me. He turned toward her and cracked the whip again. It made a loud sound, and I fully expected Sarah to cry out, but she didn’t.
I stood closer, but still out of range of the whip’s path, and watched as Master expertly brought just the tip of the whip into contact with her creamy white back and buttocks. In the wrong hands, the whip could easily have sliced the thin flesh from her prominent bones, but Master’s hands were well-trained.
He whipped her repeatedly, drawing only the faintest blush of pink from her flawless skin while I marveled at the skill it took to make her twitch and shudder without breaking the skin. I couldn’t help but wish that I were alone with him. Why had I invited Sarah?
Every time the whip cracked, I cringed at the sound. It was an involuntary reflex that I couldn’t control, just like the jealousy.
Finally, Master stopped showing off his skills with the whip and spun Sarah to an upright position. He released her from the St. Andrew’s cross and supported her body as she flopped off the device. Her face was an alluring shade of bright pink and the blood had flowed to her neck and chest, turning those body parts pink as well, not to mention the pinkness the whip had drawn from her back and buttocks. She looked like an Albertine rose.
My mouth was dry. “I’d like to try, too, Master,” I said hopefully.
“Sorry, Annabelle, the waist restraint isn’t large enough for your generous curves.”
“Okay,” I replied meekly.
Sarah was beginning to dress. She had already slipped into the ruffled pantie
s and was preparing to slide on the red, white, blue and yellow dress. Her hair was tousled, and she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.
“I didn’t say you could dress,” Master scolded.
“Oh,” she said, stopping in her trunks.
“You do look rather appealing in just your ruffled panties. It’s a shame your mounds aren’t bigger like your friend’s.”
“Annabelle, strip for us, and let us see those massive mountains of yours.”
Despite my growing discomfort at the attention Master was showing to Sarah, I did as I was told. I removed the hooded cape first, attempting a flourish and failing. Next, I drew off the corset, loosening the black velvet ribbons to accommodate the garment’s passage over my mountainous breasts.
The crimson gown was rumpled beneath the corset. I hurriedly drew it over my head and stood in just my bra, spider web stockings and red cowboy boots.
“Annabelle, you’re a naughty girl. After the considerable fortune that I spent on expensive panties, you decided to go bare beneath your costume. I really had no idea. Please climb aboard the spanking horse. I feel the need to show you what a dirty girl you’ve become.” He indicated a padded bench. It was different from the one that I had fallen over on a previous trip to the dungeon, and I had no idea how to position myself on it.
Master helped me into a facedown position, straddling the bench with my upper body elevated above my knees, which were in turn supported by struts along the main body of the bench. “I’m going to trust you to remain very, very still. Otherwise, I shall have to restrain you. For now, I would prefer to see whether you can follow instruction. Don’t forget, no moving.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him retrieve a paddle from the wall. It was large and flat with perfectly round holes bored through it. That was all the thought I was able to give to the situation before he drew it out of my sight and lowered it through the air until it made contact with the flesh of my considerable buttocks with a smack that he likely found supremely satisfying.
When the paddle struck my flesh, I nearly bit my tongue. Unlike the crack of the whip in the air, the crack of the paddle was made only when it resounded against my rump. After only one bout with the paddle, I was done. Unfortunately, Master was not. He smacked me no fewer than a half dozen times before halting.
Cocktails and Curves: A BBW Billionaire Romance Page 6
