Marianna's Fashion Statement
'I think it's time to unwrap the present, Marianna.' Mark's eyes travelled towards the large box that sat unopened on the dining table. 'You may crawl and fetch it for me, sweetness.'
Jumping around to do his bidding, faster than the proverbial cat on the hot tin roof, she sashayed her pert backside in his direction as she raced to complete her task. Realising she was skating on already heavily cracked ice, she wished to give him no reason to find further fault.
'There's no hurry, take your time; I rather enjoy watching your ass,' he drawled provocatively.
Marianna dug her fingers into the heavy wool pile of her carpet and slowed her body down. She wanted to race about. Her heart rate was thundering and there was plenty of nervous energy that needed to be burnt off, but alas, she had been issued with instructions and they needed to be followed. Letting her fingers wallow in the soft strands of the wool carpet, she wiggled for him. Giving him a chance to look his fill, she made a meandering path towards the pale legs of the dining table and wondered what might greet her in his fancy box. She levered herself upright on her knees and pulled the shiny black rectangle towards her. The red satin bow that adorned it was almost as big as the package itself. It screamed 'expensive!', but then she suspected everything Mr Matthews bought hailed under that tag. He had little need to worry over the cost of living.
Taking her present in two hands, a little surprised at how light it was, she lowered it to the carpet and wondered how she would deliver the thing back to him. He had not ventured off her sofa and she had not been given permission to stand on two legs. Looking up to find his aquamarine eyes staring down at her in an amused fashion, she cursed inwardly. If Matthews hoped to best her so early in the evening, he was bang out of luck.
Placing the box on the floor in front of her, she used her nose to gently push it forward in little bursts with as much grace as she could muster. Marianna was well aware that he was laughing at her, but needs must when the devil drives. With her head dipping and diving and her flyaway hair dragging along the carpet and picking up an awfully impressive static charge, she hoped he put his hands on her and got the shock of his life when she reached him.
'Just leave it on the floor in front of you. By the state of your hairdo you can keep well away from me for the time being.' He bit his lip as she accidentally touched the bow in front of her and a crackle of electricity shot through the air. 'Ouch,' he murmured. 'Perhaps we should hurry this along, considering we have a long evening ahead of us. 'Go ahead and open it, Marianna.'
The box loomed large and dark on the beige carpet. The fact that it weighed nearly nothing should have been enough to calm the worst of her fears, but with Matthews nothing was ever that clear cut. She had no idea what could be horribly dangerous, weigh next to nothing and reside in a reasonably sized box? Trying to breathe normally, she gently swore at herself for overreacting and then swore again as she got another shock from the sparkly red bow. Damn. Ignoring his laughter she tore at the ribbon, which thankfully came away easily in her hands, allowing her to remove the lid.
She was greeted by a mound of pink tissue paper and an elegant black sticker bearing the expensive motif of Chanel. He'd bought her something to wear? Intrigued, she gently tore away the tissue paper to reveal an item of clothing nestling snugly beneath its folds. The colour of the garment was a beautiful bright teal green and it begged to be touched. As she suspected, the material was as smooth as silk, and strangely rope-like. Scrunched up in the box it was a solid block of colour, but as she picked it up she was surprised to find it almost fell apart in her hands. Long woven strands of material clung together, inlaid with miniature sparkling sequins only slightly bigger than a pinhead. As it was stretched wider tiny glistening diamond shapes appeared and her fingertips ached to caress them. What on earth was it? Unravelling the see-through material to its fullest, she discovered she was holding what appeared to be a dress. Her eyes widened.
'Beautiful, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she whispered, 'but what on earth would you wear underneath it?' Judging that the dress would fall only a few scant inches past her backside, she guessed that a simple slip with fine spaghetti straps would suffice. It might spoil the gorgeous effect of the dress somewhat, but if worn in its current state it would be positively indecent, and people had been arrested for a whole lot less in these parts.
'Well, normally you would be allowed to wear something to cover up those obviously amazing charms of yours, but seeing as how you've been such a naughty girl this evening, you're going to wear it as it was meant to be worn. As you can't seem to follow instructions I feel the need to spell that out to you, so here goes: you are to place that dress over your head and you will be allowed to wear nothing else upon your body bar a pair of earrings and, perhaps, a necklace.'
It was Marianna's turn to smile. He wanted to play naughty, then? 'Should I go and model it for you, Sir?' She had no qualms wearing the dress indoors. She was surprised he wished her to dress up in order for the evening's proceedings to begin, but who was she to question her Master?
'Go and model it for me now, Marianna. I have a feeling you're going to knock my socks off in that outfit, if you hadn't knocked them off already with your delightful nakedness.' He smiled down at her and nodded, which indicated she had permission to leave his presence. Placing the dress in her teeth, which was the easiest way to carry it whilst crawling, she wiggled her bottom once again for his pleasure. Having not received permission to walk, she arrived at the open door of her bedroom and quickly hid herself in the corner. As soon as she had manoeuvred herself safely inside, where his prying eyes could not find her, she got to her feet and rushed to the mirror.
When Marianna tried the dress on in front of the floor to ceiling art deco mirror, it wasn't quite as opaque as she'd feared. It clung to her body like a second skin, with a tenacity that surprised her, and covered up all of the important parts. That was, until she made a move. Then the diamonds quivered, stretched, sparkled and revealed naughty glimpses of skin as they pulled this way and that. As it shifted around her the dress became a walking advert for indecency. Twisting this way and that at the mirror she caught a flash of nipple, watched the curve of her breast as it moved softly against the material, and if she moved her legs, well, that was another story.
Standing with her legs shoulder width apart the mound of her naked, hairless sex was clearly revealed beneath the delicate triangles. Turning around to view the back, she could see the outline of her toned backside and, if the material was stretched further, the valley between her ass cheeks was clearly revealed. It felt sinfully invigorating.
Taking a few practice steps around her bedroom, she smiled as the tiny threads of rope rubbed against her nipples, breasts and sex, and she found that the faster she walked, the more exquisite the sensation. As she moved the dress slithered in tiny stimulating whispers all around her body. It would make her acutely aware of her nakedness with every step she took, which was the idea, she guessed. Mark Matthews was indeed a master tormentor. No foreplay would be necessary with an outfit such as this, if foreplay had been necessary - which it wasn't.
Deciding to humour the boss she sat down at her dressing table and reached into the top drawer for a thin strand of freshwater pearls, which she fastened carefully behind her neck before pinning the matching earrings in place. Picking up her wooden hairbrush she began taming her long brunette locks into a semblance of submission, before fastening them up in a sleek chignon. Holding a can of hairspray she used it to subdue her flyaway ends and in this particular exercise, she maintained complete control. Her hair didn't stand a chance. Before long she was elegantly garbed, coiffed and with a quick lick of paint on the errant toenails, ready to present herself to Master.
Wiggling her toes around rapidly to dry them, she wondered if she should don a pair of high heels to complete the look. Even though they were not going anywhere, it would give her a few extra inches of height, slim down her legs
and elongate her calves. She had a pair of stilettos in just the right shade, too. It would be a shame not to give them an outing with one of Chanel's finest creations. Opening the doors of antique oak armoire, she quickly found what she was looking for. They were still in their original shoebox, as they had never been worn. She'd bought them at the beginning of her career with Zystrom, hoping the statement colour might attract the eyes of her boss the day before she had learnt that only blonde hair would achieve that miracle. After that her wardrobe had remained dull, staid and boring, so she could blend into the background and shadows, attracting the least amount of attention possible, for Marianna wanted Mark and Mark only. She had little wish to be a plaything or toy for his colleagues. Entertainingly enough, that would change now she had his attention. He often enjoyed watching the other girls as they were used by his colleagues and friends. The thought scared her a little. She didn't know whether she would like being the object of another's hands, tongue and lips. She suspected it wouldn't be long before she was put to the test, though, and as she would have little choice in the matter, she would be wise to do exactly as he asked.
Plucking the shiny green stilettos from their box, she inhaled the wonderful scent of new leather and took a moment to appreciate their shiny curves and lines. She loved shoes, she loved shoe shopping, but most of all she loved standing tall and proud in them. Slipping them on her feet she took a few tentative steps around her room, to get used to the feel of them, before summoning up the courage to go outside and display herself before the boss. It took a few deep breaths before she had managed to achieve the brave frame of mind she was looking for. Puffing her chest out and holding her head high, creating the epitome of elegance in her posture and stance, she silently glided across the carpeted floor to her awaiting tormentor.
When Marianna waltzed back into the lounge, poised and almost regal in stature, Mark felt his breath catch in his throat. The Harrods personal shopping assistant, who advised him on all of his purchases, had really outdone herself on this occasion. The dress was scandalous, outrageous and damn near perfect to his mind. Each tiny flash of generously tanned flesh served to titillate his senses and the outfit managed to accentuate all her ample charms, if that were possible. It was a beautiful frame for a near perfect body. He would never tell her that, of course. He needed to keep this one on her toes.
'Not bad, Miss Morreau,' he drawled, cocking his head to one side as he appraised every inch of flesh from top to bottom. 'You have made one small error, however. I wonder if you can tell me what it is?'
Marianna's face took on the appearance of a little girl for a minute, lost and confused. It took her a moment before she remembered where she was and who she was with. Her eyes flared in understanding before she let out a strangled sob. Getting down to her hands and knees once more she whispered, 'I'm sorry, Sir. Please forgive me.'
Mark clucked his tongue. She was giving him the 'lost puppy' look and it was all he could do to stop from smiling.
'So many indiscretions this evening, Miss Morreau. We really must start addressing them.' He appeared to consider the matter, while his eyes were devouring the way her breasts wobbled slightly as her breathing quickened. His naughty little girl was aroused. So much the better. 'Hmm. I have just the thing. How about we go out for a drink? I know a lovely place in the centre of London. Fancy a gin and tonic, my dear?'
He stifled another laugh as her face dropped. He wondered if she would ask the question or whether he would just give her 'the look' and stifle it in its tracks. He decided that would be a little mean, so he waited expectantly. Marianna's mouth opened and closed several times and she looked not unlike a goldfish gasping for air. She even got to the point where she anxiously raised her finger in the air, and Mark gave her an encouraging smile.
'Something on your mind, Marianna?' Her mouth snapped shut. Damn the woman, she was spoiling all his fun. She'd obviously figured out his game. What she didn't know was that they would have been going out had she been a good girl or not. He wanted to see how she would handle the idea of being in public not only nearly naked, but with a dress that would slay the average male mortal at ten paces. It was going to be an entertaining evening.
'Before we go, Marianna, I feel that certain aspects of your behaviour need to be addressed. So you may place yourself over my knee, hands on the armrest of the sofa. I think we should make that backside take on a pleasant, cherry-red hue before we let the general public lay their eyes on it. What say you, sweetness?'
Marianna had still not come to terms with the fact that she was about to display all of her most intimate charms to any member of the public who might care to look at them, so it took a moment before her eyes connected with his. Her pupils had dilated dramatically and she was running scared. It wouldn't do her any harm.
'Now, Marianna. I am not a patient man.'
His sharp tone had her rushing to obey. She laid her slight body over his thighs and he felt his trousers crumple as she moved forward. It was probably a good thing. He'd need to look a bit rumpled if he wanted to fit in at the bar they were going to. Sliding her body forward her cheek rested on the arm of her sofa, tilted to the left, and she draped both her arms either side of her head.
He let her rest there for a moment in contemplative silence. Anticipation was the mother of desire, and he would see to it that she had more than her fair share of the fickle creature. She began squirming before he had laid even a single finger upon her. He let her wriggle. It served to arouse him as well. He watched the little glistening diamonds as they danced sinuously upon her body. His hand itched to slam into her flesh, but he waited patiently. There was a time and place for everything and he valued every last little aspect of control. Another twist of her groin, grinding into his pants made him catch his breath, but still he waited. When she finally cried out, a muffled little gasp of arousal she could no longer keep inside, he took pity upon her and slowly slid the pathetic wisps of silk covering her ass cheeks up towards her waist. Her sharp intake of breath was delightful. He could hear her fingernails digging into the soft suede of the sofa and her toes scrape against the carpet. Yes, she was ready for a little pain. She had certainly earned it.
Letting his fingers slide over the soft mounds of her buttocks he felt the taut muscle there. It was no surprise she was a little apprehensive, but he wondered if she would be wet and ready for him. His fingers walked a path down her butt cheeks. Hearing Marianna moan at even that light pressure he was pretty much assured of the outcome of his exploration, and when his fingers reached her sex they almost skidded. She was drenched. Perhaps it was a good thing there wouldn't be much dress to soak. Plunging two fingers forth into her core, he watched as her back strung itself tight as a bow and her hips bucked against him.
He whispered, 'You're ready for my hand, aren't you Marianna?' There was no immediate response. To make his point clear, his hand grasped an ass cheek with a fearsome grip and squeezed.
She gave out a high-pitched yelp and whimpered, 'Yes, Sir.'
Well, that was a bit more like it. He raised his hand in the air, palm facing down, and unleashed himself.
The first few smacks were a gentle warm-up both for Marianna's backside and for his hand. He needed to get a good pattern and rhythm going. The idea was to slowly build up the heat so each spank was a little bit harder than the last. At the end of this session both his hand and her backside would be sore, but there was no question that she would have the worst end of the deal.
To give her credit, she settled into the spanking after the shock of the first two slaps had left her and then raised her buttocks to welcome each new slap as she had been taught. She didn't move her hands or her head, and she kept her dazzling green eyes wide open even though she couldn't look at him with them.
Alternating from side to side, he admired the twin peaks of firm flesh and the first spots of colour that had just started to encourage her ass to blush rather beautifully. It would take a good few minutes to develop something ha
lf-decent and long lasting, but he was on the right path. Each slap saw a slight quiver as the orbs tried desperately to recover themselves before his hand descended again with another fresh attack.
'I've been thinking about your punishment for this evening's "panty" debacle. As you have already realised, parading you around central London in that dress will be a part of it. It should help you lose that innate sense of propriety you seem so keen to hold on to. You need to learn that when I lay down the law, I mean for my instructions to be obeyed immediately and without question. Failure to do so will result in penalties. These may be moderate to severe, depending on my choice, but I shall make sure that the lesson has been learned.'
As his hand continued to fall he increased the strength of the stroke. She whimpered in protest, but there was still little movement on her part.
'You will be pleased to know I am going to allow you the privilege of wearing panties to work.' He did not miss the puzzled frown that graced her face. She had every right to be confused but he intended to clear up her misunderstanding quickly. 'When you arrive at the office, however, you will bend over and push your panties down so they rest around your ankles. That way, I will be assured you are not wearing underwear while you're working under my roof.'
Marianna's jaw dropped in horror and he knew it had nothing to do with the effects of his spanking, even though her backside had just begun to wiggle in the most charming fashion. 'You may speak.'
Marianna did the goldfish thing again. He hadn't slowed the pace of his spanking so it was going to be a little hard for her to concentrate, but she'd get there in the end. Women were renowned for their multi-tasking skills, he'd heard.
A Rough Ride: Pony girl training in latex and leather (Pony Tales Book 5) Page 11
