by Anarie Brady
You will arrive at four p.m. precisely. Enter my home and proceed to the playroom. Remove all of your clothing except for the shoes. Attach your silver ring to the pole, back to the pole. Await my arrival.
Mr. Devonshire
Alicia read the note twice. She glanced quickly at the clock—three-thirty p.m. already! By the time she cleaned herself—inside and out—and drove to his home, she would be late. Well, there was nothing to do but hope for the best. With her hair in this style, she wouldn’t have to mess with it. Still, she hated disappointing Maverick. The man worked hard. The least she could do was comply with his wishes.
Arriving at his home at four-fifteen p.m., Alicia rushed up the stairs toward the playroom, removing clothing as she went. When she made it to the room, she flung open the door and quickly went to the pole, reaching up to attach the carabiner to her silver hoop. Only when she was in position did she notice the other girl—Megan—kneeling on the floor, ready to greet Mr. Devonshire. Again glancing at the clock next to the bed, Alicia noted the time—four-eighteen. Eighteen minutes late.
Barely three minutes later, Maverick entered the playroom and walked directly to Megan.
“Greet me,” he commanded.
Megan immediately began removing Maverick’s clothes and greeting him—as any good companion should. Alicia watched in silence, aware of her tardiness and her still marked arse. Within a few minutes, Maverick gently pushed against Megan’s head and held out his hand. She placed her own hand in his and stood. The two of them walked hand in hand to stand before Alicia.
“I understand you met with Ivory today,” Maverick said.
“Yes, Sir,” Alicia answered.
“I’m glad. She is a good friend and a lovely model. I hope the two of you form a friendship,” he added conversationally.
“Thank you, Sir,” Alicia responded, glancing at Megan and noting the malice in her eyes.
“When did you arrive?”
“I’m very sorry, Sir. I was late. I did not arrive until four-fifteen, and I did not make it to the playroom and attach myself properly until four-eighteen,” she answered truthfully.
“Too bad,” he said with a smile. “Megan, what do you suggest?”
Alicia quickly looked at the other girl. Megan smirked a moment, seeming to savor her victory over Alicia.
“Well, Sir,” Megan began, “a companion’s only purpose is to serve you. Alicia, obviously, has failed. She completely disregards your simple directives. This isn’t the first time she’s been late, is it? She has also made many other mistakes. She might be purposely rebelling against your authority. I suggest, with due respect, that she be severely punished.”
“How so?” Maverick questioned.
Megan thought for a moment then brazenly answered, “Brand her.”
“That is severe,” Maverick commented.
“She must learn her place somehow. With all due respect, perhaps you have been too lenient on her, Sir,” Megan answered.
“Interesting.”
Alicia’s eyes widened and she shook her head in denial, but remained silent. Surely Maverick would not punish her so severely for being a mere eighteen minutes late!
“Alicia, what do you have to say?”
Alicia gulped. “I do certainly deserve a punishment, and I will abide by whatever you decide, but in truth, branding sounds far too severe! And I am terrified of being burned.”
“Still, are you willing to trust me to decide what is best for you?” Mr. Devonshire asked.
Alicia noticed a hesitation in his question and a glimmer of kindness in his eyes. Remembering her conversation with Ivory, Alicia considered a moment. Megan glared at her with malice-filled eyes, but Mr. Devonshire held the final word. Did she trust this man?
“Yes, Sir. I trust you,” she answered.
“Megan, heat up the iron,” Maverick commanded.
Alicia allowed a small sound to escape as she watched Megan’s smile grow more menacing. The other girl opened a cabinet and took out what looked like an electric curling iron. On the end of the device, however, was a small emblem—MD—molded in metal. Alicia remembered seeing the mark branded onto several wooden frames gracing Maverick’s photographs. Megan plugged the device into a wall socket and Alicia watched as the metal slowly turned red with heat.
“Do you want to use the safe word?” Mr. Devonshire asked.
Alicia met Maverick’s eyes. “I am yours. Do with me as you please,” she answered.
Maverick thought for a moment, then reached up to unhook her braid. Still holding the silver ring, he forced her to walk to the St. Andrew’s cross.
“Prepare yourself,” he commanded. “Megan, bind her.”
Alicia placed her wrists and ankles directly in front of the cuffs. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of Megan’s demonic smile just before the girl bound her arms and legs so tightly that Alicia could not move.
Oh shit! What have I gotten myself into? Alicia wondered. With Ivory’s warning fresh in her mind, she trembled. She did not want to be branded! A stern whipping—well, that was one thing. But a branding! The pain would be incredible and the mark would be permanent. Surely Mr. Devonshire wouldn’t go through with such a thing.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Will you put the mark on her arse, Sir? It’s used to being beaten, so a little more pain in that same area won’t hurt,” Megan remarked.
“Where I choose to place the brand is no concern of yours, Megan,” Maverick answered sternly. “Alicia?”
“As you will,” she answered in a trembling voice, tightening every muscle in her body.
She felt the heat between her thighs and she screamed. She smelled an acrid, burning scent and heard Megan’s gasping intake of breath. Shockingly, she felt no pain.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“But you didn’t touch her! You just pressed the iron into the leather between her thighs!” Megan whined.
“As I intended. You have just failed a test, Megan. That makes twice that you have sought to harm Alicia. Alicia, on the other hand, was willing to accept this barbaric punishment if only to please me. Do you really think I am so cruel as to permanently mark another person without her express permission? Megan, I am terribly disappointed in you,” Maverick said, a note a sadness entering his voice. “Unbind her. Now!”
Alicia nearly fainted with relief. Once Megan had released her, Alicia knelt before Mr. Devonshire, tears flowing from her eyes.
“Sir, thank you. I must admit, I was doubtful for a moment, but thank you for your mercy,” she said quietly.
Mr. Devonshire reached down and, grasping the silver ring, gently tugged, raising Alicia to her feet.
“You’re welcome, my dear. But I do have a punishment in mind,” he replied.
“Of course, Sir.”
“Bind Megan in your stead.”
Alicia looked quickly at the other girl who stood in shocked silence. Following his orders, though, Alicia did as requested and bound Megan face first to the cross.
“Choose your implement,” Mr. Devonshire commanded.
Alicia looked at him questioningly. “I don’t understand, Sir.”
“This companion wanted to physically harm you. I expect my companions to be accommodating, gracious, adept and honest. I also expect them to be considerate of each other. She has failed at all of these simple tasks. You, my dear, will administer her consequence. Questions?” he asked.
Alicia shook her head slowly as understanding dawned on her. Walking to the implement wall, she perused the display of whips, paddles, canes, floggers and cats. Fully realizing the effect of each device, Alicia chose a cat—one made of soft suede and lacking the end knots. If properly delivered, the lashing would leave Megan’s arse sore and red, but unmarked.
“Proceed,” Mr. Devonshire encouraged.
Reaching back her arm, Alicia delivered the first blow and jumped almost as much as Megan did.
Goodness! Being on this end of the whip is
certainly a different feeling.
“How many stripes would you like me to deliver, Sir?” she asked.
“As many as you choose. Just try to keep them even,” Maverick directed.
Alicia nodded and kept going, enjoying the power she suddenly was wielding. After only ten blows—five to each cheek—Megan began to cry. Alicia ignored the girl’s rantings and continued until her beautiful arse glowed red. After fifty strokes, Alicia dropped the whip, exhausted.
“Release her,” Maverick suggested.
Alicia looked over at him, sitting in a wing-backed chair, casually sipping a Bloody Mary.
Breathing heavily, Alicia did so then stood aside, awaiting further direction. She felt incredible. While she couldn’t say she enjoyed administering the consequence, she had experienced a surge of power, control.
“Come before me, both of you,” Maverick said.
The two women complied, one with tears streaming down her face, both with bowed heads.
“Megan, what do you have to say now?”
She raised her head and addressed him. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Sir. I will do whatever necessary to redeem myself.”
Alicia noted she had not apologized for her actions but rather for disappointing Maverick.
“Good. I have a special assignment for both of you. It will take cooperation on both of your parts as well as a bit of research on yours, Alicia.” He set down his Bloody Mary. “I would like you to prepare a very special meal.”
“Certainly, Sir. I’d be honored,” she answered truthfully.
“You will prepare this meal for next Friday night. I will be expecting five guests, but you should prepare enough for seven since you and Megan will also be in attendance,” he continued.
“I understand,” she responded, though with an uncertain note in her voice.
Megan had also raised her eyebrows and cocked her head, clearly confused.
Mr. Devonshire leaned forward and began to tweak Alicia’s nipple while he continued his directives.
“The meal will be made up entirely of aphrodisiacs. I know the scientific world does not support the validity of such foods, but even if their value cannot be proven, the psychosomatic effect will, I’m sure, prove to be quite interesting, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Sir, I do.” Already Alicia’s mind was spinning with possibilities. “I’ll need to do some research, but I believe I can do it.”
Maverick continued to twist her nipples into erectness while never taking his eyes off her face.
“Mr. Devonshire,” Megan asked quietly, “what will be my role?”
Maverick shifted his gaze to her and said, “You, my dear, will serve the guests—in any way they desire.”
Megan lowered her eyes quickly and nodded. “Of course, Sir.”
“You are dismissed, Megan.”
Megan’s eyes flew to him and she began to open her mouth then obviously thought better of it. She nodded once and turned to leave. Alicia kept her focus on Mr. Devonshire, barely noticing the sound of the shutting door.
“Did you enjoy the consequence?” Mr. Devonshire asked, his fingers continually rubbing the pink buds.
“No, Sir, I can’t say that I did,” she answered truthfully.
“Then why continue as long as you did?” He released her left breast and ran his hand along her side.
“Because,” she whispered, “a good companion must learn her place. She must admit her mistakes”—she gasped as his hand found its way to her clit—“and willingly accept reprimand.” She closed her eyes, allowing the warmth to circulate throughout her body.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Megan erred. Besides”—Alicia fought to formulate words with the delightful distraction of Maverick’s fingers probing inside her—“she has a lovely behind. I knew you would appreciate the sight of it nicely reddened.”
“Very interesting,” he said, nibbling on her ear. “So even in the dominant position, you sought to please me.”
“Please, Sir, please,” Alicia begged, “take me.”
She heard a low chuckle deep in Maverick’s throat. Suddenly he stood and swept her up in his arms. Alicia’s cry of surprise was swallowed in the deep kiss Maverick drew from her. He carried her to the bed, gently placing her onto the soft mattress. He moved on top of her, positioning his legs between her thighs. With excruciating slowness, Maverick eased himself into Alicia’s welcoming tunnel. She tipped her head back, a primal sound growing in her throat. Not one to waste an opportunity, Maverick swooped down and ran his tongue along her neck, moving his hips to meet hers. The world dissolved. She no longer felt the cold silver hoop pressed against her back. Her still tender arse, gripped by Maverick’s strong hands, no longer hurt. The features of the room faded as Maverick took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it to life.
“Gentle and sweet can also be tortuous, my darling,” Maverick said as he released her bud and pulled out of her. Alicia grasped his shoulders, protesting his loss. Maverick began to kiss her stomach, her hips, her thighs. Without thought, Alicia thrashed on the bed, clenching and unclenching her hands. Just when she knew she would lose her mind, Maverick plunged his tongue into her, sucking the warm juices, tasting her soul. Purple, pink and magenta exploded in Alicia’s mind as the orgasm washed over her, and she bucked against his mouth, her body seeking more. Suddenly it was no longer his sweet, soft tongue inside her but his hard, brilliant staff. Maverick supported himself with his hands and loomed over her, driving his hips into her over and over again, throwing his head back and crying out as he spilled his seed deeply inside her.
Collapsing on top of her, Maverick rolled to his side, exhausted. Alicia needed a moment to catch her breath.
Without thinking, she marveled, “Maverick, that was pure and total beauty.”
“Yes,” he agreed sleepily, reaching for her. “It certainly was.”
Alicia, not wanting the moment to end, scooted downward. Kneeling on the bed, she reverently lifted his dripping manhood and gently licked it clean. Maverick reached down and began to rub her head, lulling her into relaxation. Still Alicia felt the need to show her gratitude, so rather than crawl back up to lie beside him, she snuggled against his stomach, reaching down to massage his legs. There she felt her head rise and fall with each breath from her Master. Only when his breathing became steady and even did Alicia give in and allow herself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Fluffy Scrambled Eggs
2 eggs, separated
Salt
Pepper
1 Tablespoon milk
1 Tablespoon Parmesan cheese
1 dash hot sauce
1 Tablespoon butter
Whip egg whites until light and foamy but not too stiff. Blend egg yolks with all other ingredients. Melt butter in a small skillet. While butter is melting, blend yolks with egg whites. Pour into hot skillet. Cook until firm.
For the next two days, Alicia poured over the Internet and cookbooks, trying to come up with a menu full of only aphrodisiac foods. The obvious appetizer—oysters on the half-shell—was out because of Maverick’s shellfish allergy. After beginning her research, though, Alicia discovered this would not be such a problem. Who knew there were so many aphrodisiac foods out there? So for an appetizer, she decided to arrange figs and strawberries drizzled with honey on decorative plates. This would then be followed by carrot soup flavored with nutmeg, for dessert she would serve dark chocolate petit fours decorated with blue sugar morning glories. For the moment, though, an idea for the main course escaped her.
After an hour of staring at the computer screen, Alicia put her hand up to her forehead. She suddenly felt terrible. Sure enough, her skin felt clammy and hot. Great, just great. She definitely did not need to be getting sick now. She trudged into the bathroom and rummaged about for her thermometer. Sticking it into her mouth, she began to notice her aching body—and this time the pain had nothing to do with pleasure. She groaned after reading the
thermometer—she definitely had a fever. Grabbing a bottle of aspirin, she went into the kitchen for a glass of water. After swallowing two pills, she got undressed and climbed into bed, falling into a restless sleep.
Later that afternoon, the phone rang, jarring Alicia to a shaky consciousness.
“‘Lo?” she said groggily.
“Alicia?”
Her eyes popped open. “Yes, Mr. Debonthire?” she slurred.
“Are you all right?” Maverick quickly asked.
“Fine, jus’ fine. I think. I can’t really remember. I think I might be sick,” Alicia mumbled.
“I’ll be right there.”
“But I can’t come today, Thir! I think I might be thick. I don’t want to get you thick!” she said to a dial tone. Carefully, she hung up the phone. What had he said? Did he want her to drive to his house? No, that wasn’t it. Maybe she should just wait for another call. That sounded like a plan. Soon she’d get up and take a shower, get ready…soon.
A heavy banging roused her. What the hell was making all that noise? Groggily, Alicia stood. Running her hand along the wall, she managed to stay upright long enough to stumble into the kitchen. There she stood in amazement. Standing at her stove was Maverick—cooking.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Maverick whipped his head around at the sound of her voice, a frown forming on his face.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he returned, wiping his hands on a towel and rushing to her. Grasping her by the shoulders, he turned her about-face and walked her back to the bedroom.
“I don’t understand,” Alicia mumbled.
“Simple, my dear,” he answered. “I called with the idea that we could have a night together, but when it became apparent you were ill, I came to take care of you instead.”
Alicia simply blinked at him. Why was he speaking so loudly?
“You’re burning up.” He turned her toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you back in bed and out of these clothes.”
Alicia sat mutely on the bed as Maverick gently removed her clothing and tucked her under the covers. Her mind was swimming in and out of consciousness, but later she vaguely remembered warm broth running down her throat and a cool cloth bathing her body. Most welcome, though, were the strong arms that held her when her body shook with chills and the deep voice murmuring soft words to her fevered mind. Finally she fell into a deep sleep.
