by Anarie Brady
“Something similar, I think. Go to the post and hold out your hands.”
Alicia did as she was told, holding out her hands and hanging her head as Maverick secured the rope. Having left the heels beside the bed, she had to stand on her toes as he attached her wrists to the top of the post. Maverick’s hands moved around her, unhooking the corset. She closed her eyes with pleasure as he peeled both it and the stockings from her body. She barely restrained herself from turning her head when his hands left her and he stepped back.
Despite preparing herself, Alicia jumped and cried out with the first caress of the whip, but controlled herself for the following blows. Her ass warmed as Maverick increased the intensity of each blow. She clenched her teeth against crying out when her arse burned from the flogging, but she did not pull away. After what seemed like a very long time, the flogging stopped. Alicia braced herself for the cane, but instead Maverick grasped her braid and pulled her head back.
“Good,” he whispered into her ear. “You accept your just punishment as a companion should. Because of that, I see no reason to punish you further. I’m going to release your arms. Bathe yourself—be sure to use very warm water. I don’t want that arse to lose its redness too soon.”
“Yes, Mr. Devonshire, and…” she hesitated.
“And?”
“Thank you,” she added.
Maverick kissed her neck and said, “You are very welcome, my dear.”
Alicia looked up as Maverick released her wrists and was startled to see Megan, still tied to the other side of the post, glaring at her. Hadn’t the girl learned anything? Surely the ever-observant Master would see that glare and punish her further. Inwardly, Alicia cringed at the thought but realized that Megan was choosing her own fate.
While Alicia bathed, Maverick poured himself a drink and lounged in a chair, flipping through a book. If not for the corseted woman with the abused arse tied to the post in the center of the room, Alicia thought this would be a lovely, perfectly normal domestic scene. As it was, she thought this was a perfect scene. At one time she desperately wanted what society labeled normal, but now she found herself most content with this alternative lifestyle.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of the water relaxing her muscles, heightening the burning of her arse cheeks. When the water began to cool slightly, Alicia stood and dried herself, applying the lotion Maverick had provided.
“All done then?” Maverick asked.
“Yes, thank you, Sir,” Alicia replied.
“Good. I would expect you’re tired. Why don’t you hop into bed—go on now, under the covers with you,” Maverick said pleasantly.
Alicia smiled and gratefully complied. She was indeed tired. That morning she had prepared an elaborate meal for a client—minestrone to begin, baked lasagna, spinach salad, fresh Italian bread to be served with a garlic dipping oil, and for dessert—a raspberry mousse. Before arriving at Maverick’s home, she had been on her feet a full six hours.
Shockingly, Maverick climbed into bed beside her.
“Oh my, this is wonderful,” she said as she snuggled against him.
“Yes, it is,” he responded as he wrapped his arms around her.
“But, Sir?”
“Yes?”
“What about Megan?”
Alicia glanced at the other girl and met her gaze as Megan turned to look in the direction of the bed.
“Megan still has some things to learn. I saw the look she gave you when I released you. She will remain where she is for the night,” Maverick decided.
Alicia remained in quiet thought for a time.
“Mr. Devonshire?”
“Yes, my dear?” he drowsily answered.
“What about her arms? Won’t they become terribly sore by tomorrow? I know it’s not my place to question, and whatever you decide I’m sure is right, but her arms, Mr. Devonshire. They’ll be dreadfully sore by morning. Isn’t denying her the pleasure of your company enough of a punishment?” Alicia asked, hoping he would not find her suggestion offensive.
Maverick remained quiet for such a long time, Alicia worried she had truly offended him and would herself be subjected to another consequence.
“You make a good case, Alicia. And you make it respectfully,” Maverick said. “Go, release her from the post, but leave her hands tied. Megan,” Maverick said louder, “you may sleep on either the rug or the couch, but you will remain tied. You have Alicia to thank for your release. Be grateful,” he added.
But as Alicia released Megan, the other girl whispered to her, “You think you’re special, you slutty bitch. I’m his favorite—not you. You’re just a cheap, American whore. Remember that.” With that, Megan stalked to the rug, curled up in a ball and was soon snoring softly.
Alicia was shaken by the venom in the other woman’s words. What had she done to incur such hatred from her?
Chapter Six
Sugar Free Apple Pie
Two pastry crusts
4-5 cups sliced golden delicious apples
1 cup apple cider
1 Tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon each cinnamon and nutmeg
Line a deep dish pie pan with one crust. Fill with apple slices. Meanwhile, in a saucepan heat cider and spices. When it begins to boil, add the corn starch, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Pour over apples. Add top crust carefully, pinching the edges together. Cut slits in crust to allow steam to escape. Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees Fahrenheit) until golden brown, about 45 minutes.
Late the next afternoon, Alicia found herself sipping a glass of wine and staring out her front window. She had been proud of her performance last night, but something about Megan had left a bad taste in her mouth. Trying to take her mind off the situation, she had begun to flip through an old cookbook that had once belonged to her Aunt Helen. Mr. Phillips, another client Maverick had recommended, was a particular eater. He had a definite sweet tooth but was also a diabetic—a challenging combination. Perhaps if she could replace the white flour in her pie crust with whole wheat, she could make him an apple pie for dessert next week. She remembered a recipe from her aunt, who had also been a diabetic, for a sugar free apple pie. Ah! Here it was. The recipe called for apple cider thickened with corn starch. To this she would add her special blend of spices and pour the mixture over the raw apples then top the pie with a lattice upper crust. The cider acted as a natural sweetener, negating the need for processed sugar. Deep in thought, Alicia jumped when the telephone broke the silence of the room.
“Hello?” Alicia said
“Good evening,” a deep voice answered.
After the final incident with Megan the night before, Alicia had gratefully crawled back into bed with Maverick. She had been rather disappointed that rather than making love to her, he had simply gathered her in his arms and drifted off to sleep. Still, he enjoyed the right to do as he wished. Nonetheless, that morning she had been further disappointed. When she finally awoke, both Maverick and Megan had been gone. She had found a note from him stating that she had performed well and that he would call her soon. She had swallowed her grief, donned the dress she had packed and left for home.
Alicia smiled in recognition. “Good evening to you,” she responded.
“Be ready for me in fifteen minutes. Leave your door unlocked,” Maverick commanded.
Alicia’s eyes widened as she replaced the phone. Fifteen minutes! Good Lord! She flew to the bathroom and prepared an enema. She had no idea if Maverick would want her arse or not, but she intended to be clean—inside and out—just in case. She quickly administered it, cringing slightly as the cool water entered her bowels. Next she pinned her hair on top of her head and stepped into the shower, lathering and shaving her legs, underarms and pubic area. Maverick had made it clear he wanted no hair between her nether lips and him. By the time she had released her bowels and slathered lotion on herself, her time was up. Still, she rushed to the bedroom, placed a pillow on the floor and kneeled, facing the doorway.
She glanced at the clock before lowering her forehead Damn! Five minutes late. She could easily lie if Maverick asked about the time, but she knew she wouldn’t. He had said fifteen minutes, and she had taken twenty. She had disobeyed, albeit unintentionally. Therefore she would be punished. Her bottom still throbbed slightly from last night’s consequences. No matter, her pussy began to pulse at the thought of this.
Forty minutes later, Maverick walked into her flat. Still she patiently remained in position. She heard him walk to her sitting room and pick up the glass of whiskey she had waiting for him. She listened for his footsteps until he finally stepped in front of her.
“Greet me.”
Alicia did so, applying all he had taught her. She moaned with joy as his staff filled her mouth and his hands caressed her head, silently commanding her to continue in her service. Ignoring her aching jaws, Alicia pressed her tongue against his shaft, tightening the tunnel for him. She sucked with renewed vigor, pulling him deeper and deeper into her mouth and down her throat. Valiantly she fought against the gag reflex, consciously relaxing her throat muscles. She slipped a finger into her own mouth, covering it with saliva. As she continued to suck, she slid her moistened finger along Maverick’s balls, seeking his anus. Keeping one hand cupped around his balls, Alicia dipped her middle digit into Maverick’s body. Judging by his growl of pleasure, Maverick appreciated this new move. With more confidence, she worked his arsehole in synchrony with her mouth. Within moments, Maverick cried out and pushed her head deep against him. Alicia, trembling with emotion, gratefully swallowed all Mr. Devonshire gave to her.
Rather than draw back when he had completed his orgasm, Alicia continued to tenderly kiss and caress Mr. Devonshire. After a time, she pulled back to kiss his thighs, running her tongue along his groin, lapping and licking each ball. Finally she drew his cock into her mouth to again suck and kiss its length. Maverick ran his hand along her braid, small sounds of pleasure emitting from deep within him. Exhausted, Alicia sat back on her heels, gazing up at her Master. Maverick drew his hands to her throat, gently running his thumb along her jawline, cupping her cheek in his hand. Like a contented kitten, Alicia rubbed her face against his caress.
“You have no idea how incredible you are,” Maverick said.
Alicia glowed with pleasure.
“Come,” he gently persuaded, “sit with me on the bed.”
Alicia followed, perching herself on the edge of the mattress. While she felt pride in having successfully given Maverick his release she also knew a fountain of contained energy swelled within her.
“I have a proposition for you, Alicia,” he began.
“Yes, Sir?”
“According to our agreement, your two roles in my life are completely separate. But I would like to alter that situation slightly,” Maverick said.
Alicia frowned. “What do you mean, Sir?”
Maverick patted her knee. “No need to worry, my darling, I am well pleased with both your cooking skills and your other…abilities. Your position with me, both of your positions, are secure. I have, however, a friend,” he stated, bringing his hand up to massage her thigh.
Alicia wondered if he realized the effect his touch had on her. She could barely concentrate on his words with his strong, gentle fingers stroking her skin.
“This friend, Paul,” Mr. Devonshire continued, “is a remarkable man. An artist of the finest caliber. He is a painter, creates abstract works that move with vibrancy, full of color and texture.” He paused momentarily.
Alicia wondered if he was referring to Paul Tenegal.
She had attended an opening of Mr. Tenegal’s a few months prior. His work, while abstract, had indeed appeared vibrant and alive. She had caught a glimpse of the handsome artist but had not been introduced to him. Still, a man of average height, he had exuded a quiet charisma and charm. She remembered how his light brown hair had fallen over his eyes, and how he had brushed it back. She had longed to run her own fingers through its softness. His physical attraction aside, if she’d had any spare cash at all, she would have purchased one of his tantalizing, smaller paintings. The abstract vibrancy of his work radiated sensuality.
“Paul is afflicted, however, with shyness. He lives alone and would benefit from a few good, home-cooked meals. I would,” Maverick said as his hand worked its way up to her nether lips, “appreciate the help of your combined talents.”
“Of course, Sir,” Alicia answered, willing him to touch her wet opening. “I will do whatever you like.”
“This is not a command,” Maverick insisted. “This is of your own free will. Still, if you would go to his home, prepare a lovely meal for him and…administer to him in any other way he would like as well, I would be…appreciative, shall we say.”
Alicia closed her eyes as Mr. Devonshire gently flicked her clit. “Mr. Devonshire, I would be pleased and honored to serve your friend—in any way he would like—simply because you ask it.” She opened her eyes and smiled. What she said was the truth, not just some line. The very idea of servicing a stranger, and a handsome one at that, offering both her cooking and her body to someone of Mr. Devonshire’s choosing, thrilled her.
“As it should be,” Maverick whispered into her ear. “Still, the choice is yours. You may represent me, or I could easily send one of my other companions, complete with a take-out dinner of some kind. But somehow, Alicia”—he grasped her ear lobe in his teeth for a quick nip before continuing—“I think you and Paul would suit each other. You will find him far less demanding than Spiro, and you did an exquisite job of pleasing him.”
Alicia melted against him. “As you choose, Sir. Just tell me where I should be, when I should be there, and how you would like me to dress and behave,” Alicia said as she unbuttoned Mr. Devonshire’s shirt, easing it off and trailing kisses along his shoulder.
Maverick laughed quietly. “I’ll let you know the arrangements in the morning. For now”—he grasped her braid—“tell me, were you on time?”
Alicia immediately felt the change of timbre in his voice. Maverick had become Mr. Devonshire and would not tolerate disobedience or hesitation. She felt a tremor of apprehension and excitement as she slid to the floor to her knees once more before him.
“No, Sir,” she began. “I was late. I failed to follow your explicit directions.”
“By how many minutes?”
“Five, Sir,” she admitted truthfully.
“That’s a shame,” he said with a smirk. “I have a special punishment for you. Something I don’t believe you have experienced before. This will hurt, but you can take it, can’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Devonshire,” she immediately answered. “I can take it, if it pleases you.” Already her pussy began to swell and moisten.
“And it will also please you, will it not?” he persisted.
“Yes, Sir, it will,” she admitted.
“Stand.”
She did so.
“Put your hands on your head, elbows out.”
Alicia complied. She stood perfectly still, not even turning her head as Maverick walked behind her to retrieve his trousers. He again stepped in front of her, allowing her to clearly see him reaching into the front left pocket. He removed two wicked-looking clamps, connected to each other by a heavy metal chain.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, holding the device in front of her.
“No,” she answered.
“No?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, Sir,” she quickly amended.
“That’s better. Still, I believe you have just added another thirty seconds onto your time,” he cryptically said. “These, my disobedient companion, are clover clamps. I will attach one cold, tight clamp to each of your lovely, tender nipples. As the weight of the heavy chain pulls the clamps downward, the tightness will increase.” Maverick smiled sardonically before continuing his explanation. “For every movement of the chain, the clamps will respond. The weight of the chain ensures a quick response. Every bre
ath you take will raise your breasts, thus moving the metal. You will feel more and more pressure until you will think your nipples will burst.” Mr. Devonshire rolled a tender bud between his thumb and forefinger, tugging strongly.
Alicia gasped in pain as he placed the cold clamp on her tender flesh. Tears sprang to her eyes when he attached the second clamp.
“Nice,” he commented. “You will keep those in place for an equal amount of time as your tardiness—plus thirty seconds, of course.”
Alicia nodded, fighting back the tears. The pain radiating from her nipples was excruciating. Her legs trembled and she fought to control her breathing. Her breasts had always been sensitive and the addition of the tight clamps attached to the heavy chain was almost unbearable. She prayed she could stand still for the required time, lessening the chance of the clovers tightening even more. She should have known better.
“While I watch the time,” Mr. Devonshire announced, “turn down the bed and prepare yourself for entry.”
A small sound of distress escaped her, but Alicia dropped her arms to turn down the bedclothes.
“Ah…did I say to lower your arms? No, keep them behind your head. You must grasp the necessary items with your teeth, your elbows, your legs. Anything but your hands,” he said smugly.
Alicia stared at him. The pain would be terrible!
“Yes, that will add to your discomfort, and I know it will be a challenge for you, but,” he added sternly, “you will not disappoint me, will you?” He gave the chain a small tug.
Alicia, tears flowing down her face, clenched her teeth against the pain. No, she would not disappoint him, no matter how much it cost her. Bending at the waist, she grasped the coverlet of the bed in her teeth and drew it back. Next she kneeled and, again using her teeth, opened the drawer in her nightstand. Knowing she could not possibly lift Mr. Devonshire’s preferred jar of lubrication with her mouth, she took a deep breath and brought her elbows together over the slick, glass container. With infinite care and terrible torment, she lifted the jar and placed it on the nightstand, nearly dropping it once. Fire radiated from her nipples as the clamps grasped her purpled flesh with a fierce firmness. Crying softly, Alicia climbed onto the bed and assumed a position, arse in the air, forehead down, hands still locked behind her head. There she waited, counting the seconds of her allotted punishment.
