by Finley Blake
I shivered in his arms, not from the cold, but from those orders. With a nod, I waited until he placed me on the floor, and then walked upstairs to comply. The warm floorboards were hard beneath my knees, but I waited without question, naked and alone in his room. Or had it become our room now?
When Nicholas arrived, I kept my eyes lowered as he walked around me. It was the first time he had done that – really assessed me and stood silent over me. Only this was not his brooding, petulant silence. There was a different quality to this calm moment as he stood beside me, his hand on my head, and his thighs at my shoulder. A blush suffused my face as I realized all I had to do was turn my head for my lips to make contact with his crotch…
“Do you trust me, Violet?” he asked.
“Yes.” The answer was low, nearly a whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think the headmistress would match me with someone I couldn’t trust.” It was a simple way of thinking. Naïve too, especially after my initial reservations about the match.
He let out a chuckle. “I don’t think you realize yet what a schemer your headmistress is, but you are right. She knows what she’s doing for both her courtesans and her clients. However, I want you to change the reason for your trust and we’re going to start from the beginning. For you to trust me just because I am me, you need to know every choice I make is because I have your best interests at heart. Do you understand?”
I closed my eyes at his words and nodded. For someone who had once been president, he had a surprising knowledge of the language of the Dominant-submissive relationship dynamic. Of course, he had also told me he wanted to pursue it with his wife and she had refused.
“You are giving away your control and your power, and I want you to know I will treat you with respect. So we’re going to play a fun little game right now. Are you ready?”
With a shuddering breath, I said, “I think so.”
“You either are or you aren’t, Violet. Which is it?” His voice was firm, but he didn’t sound angry.
I took another breath and said, “I’m ready.”
“I’m going to give you a rule to follow. It’s a basic one. Day to day, you may still call me Nicholas, but when I tell you to come up here, remove your clothes, and kneel for me, you will call me Sir. You will always answer with ‘yes Sir’ or ‘no Sir,’ or whatever is appropriate at the time. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir.” Now I felt moisture pooling just at the entrance to my pussy. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it dotted the floor, leaving dark, damp little spots beneath me as I knelt.
“Good girl. Get up on the bed and spread your arms and legs.”
“As you wish, Sir.” I rose to my feet, not at all ashamed of my nudity. Nicholas had done nothing but cherish me since his confession of who he was and I knew in my heart that no harm would come to me as long as I gave him control.
Settling in the middle of the bed, I extended my arms up and out, and spread my legs for him. It was a vulnerable position that left me completely exposed, and for the first time I felt nervous in a sexual situation. Nicholas approached me and ran his hand along my front, down over one breast, across my belly, to my thigh. “Does this bother you?” he asked.
“A little, Sir,” I answered.
“Good. I don’t want you to get too comfortable. I want to play in ways that will test your limits.”
His words made me quiver with both fear and delight.
“You are mine,” he continued, “and I need you to never forget that I am the person who will protect you, who can make all the uncomfortable feelings go away.”
As I watched, he brought a length of rope out from beneath the bed. It looked smooth and new, but I still shrank back a little from it as he approached me. Bondage was one of my soft limits. To me it represented a complete loss of control, instead of giving up that control willingly.
When he saw my reaction, Nicholas set the rope on the bed beside me and stroked my hair away from my face. “I won’t hurt you. You know that.”
“I do, Sir.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“Because…” I closed my eyes as I worked on formulating my answer.
“Because you don’t trust me,” he said. “Because you want to kneel and submit, but not completely. Not yet. This kind of submission is different than feeling like you still have some control, isn’t it?”
“They taught us…” I stuttered and started again. “They taught us that the submissive has the control.”
“They are right. You do have the control and if you tell me to stop, I will stop.”
I turned my head to look at him, to look deep into those hard, but loving eyes. Did I want him to stop? What would he think of me if I did?
“Violet, I won’t think any less of you for not giving in to this. We don’t need to prove anything to each other. Like I said, tonight is about earning your trust. Whether I earn it by showing you I respect your needs or by showing you there is pleasure to be found in some of the most uncertain places, it doesn’t matter. The point is that I earn it.”
With a deep breath, I steeled my resolve and shook my head. “You have it and I want you to know that, so go ahead. Do it.” I lifted my wrists off the mattress to offer them to him.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I want to give you everything,” I answered.
With a small smile, Nicholas took the wrist closest to him and looped the rope around it. As he pulled it taut, I expected to feel pain or discomfort, but the rope felt as smooth as it looked, almost like silk. He tied it around one of the posts of the bed and I tested the knot by tugging at the binding. My arm wasn’t going anywhere.
Now I felt more curiosity than fear as I watched him do the same to my other arm, and then both my ankles. The moisture gathering between my legs was almost uncomfortable now, exposed as I was to the air. Would he see it glistening on my pussy? What would he do to me in this position that he couldn’t do to me when I was unbound?
“How does this feel?” he asked when he was done.
“It’s not bad at all, Sir.” I tugged a bit more, but the ropes held fast.
“Good.” He trailed his fingers up the inside of one of my thighs, until I was sure he would glide them over my wet core. But he simply lifted his hand from me and walked back to the head of the bed without another touch. “Now I need you to lift your head for me,” he said.
I did as he asked and watched him extract a piece of cloth from the bedside table.
He turned it over in both hands to show it to me. “I want to blindfold you, Violet. Will you allow this?”
Gulping, I nodded without saying a word. If I was going to give up as much control as I already had, what was a little more? The soft fabric rested over my eyes and then tightened as he knotted it behind my hair. My lips parted as he brushed a kiss across my cheek, feathered his fingers over my nipples, and then drew the back of his hand across my belly.
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered.
I was bound.
Blindfolded.
Completely at his mercy.
“You’re going to feel something on your body now,” he said. “It will feel firm, but not hard as it goes over your skin. It’s a washable marker that I am using to write on you. Will you let me mark your body with it?”
Still breathless, I gave a single nod. Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited for his next move. The promised touch of the marker.
“For the next several minutes, the only thing touching you will be the tip of the marker as I use your body as my canvas to write down everything I want to do with you. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice quavered – there was no stopping it.
The first touch was to my right shoulder. I felt something lightly looping along the flesh, almost as if it were tracing shapes on my skin. When he was done writing whatever he wanted to say there, the marker next touched the inside of my upper right arm. Again there was the light s
ensation of him writing on that sensitive flesh.
His next move was bolder – a line and then what felt like two smaller lines along my breast, drawn down toward my nipple. Had he just drawn an arrow pointing to it? Both my nipples tightened and I moaned softly as the words followed…
I don’t know how long it took, but he worked his way from one side of my front to the other, and then down from my collarbone to my toes. By the time the marker lifted off the top of my foot, I was writhing, my hips lifting from the bed in invitation, as I made little noises of need and desire.
“I’m sure you want to know what I’ve written here,” he said and I heard a small click – Nicholas capping the marker. “Maybe you want to know that here on your hip, it says how much I want to turn you over on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind.”
The bed dipped with his weight as he knelt between my legs, nudging at my inner thighs with his knees. He must have remained upright, because he didn’t lay atop me, but instead gripped my hips with his hands on either side.
“Or here where I wrote how I want to go down on you and make you come and come again, until you beg me to stop.” His hands moved up to rest on my pelvis, just above the curly mound of hair. “What do you think of that idea?”
“Not now, Sir,” I said, lifting my hips toward his warmth.
“Oh, so I should just untie you and walk away?”
“No!” I didn’t mean to yell, but my entire body was burning with need. I didn’t want any more foreplay, anymore teasing. I just wanted…
“What do you want, then?” he asked in a low voice, his hands smoothing across my skin, back down over my hips.
“Please fuck me.” It was the most brutally honest answer I could give him.
His chuckle let me know he wasn’t done with me just yet. “I’m sorry, Violet, but you need to ask me properly. Try again.”
Clenching my teeth, I tried to gather my thoughts. “Sir, fuck me, please.”
With another laugh, he drew his hands down from my shoulders, over my breasts, causing me to arch up into his touch. “I want to hear you really beg for it,” he said.
“Please, Sir, if you don’t, I think I will die from how much I need you!” It was an exaggeration that I was sure would make him laugh, but it felt like the truth. The tension coiling between my legs was acute, leaving me frantic with desire. I arched my body toward him again, lifting my hip in invitation like a cat in heat putting itself on display.
“That is just beautiful, Violet. Let me see if I can save your life.” With that, his knees nudged at mine and he sank his cock inside of me at last.
The fullness made me cry out with relief, but it was short-lived. Now that he was there, thrusting his hard, unyielding flesh inside mine, I needed my orgasm. I ached for it.
His palms settled at my hips and then lower until he rubbed one of his thumbs over my clit. With that touch, I was lost, bucking as hard against him as the ropes would allow. Even though he was my dominant, my patron, I felt like the one who had to possess him.
With an agonized groan, I came, my pussy clenching around his driving cock. I had never experienced such raw lust in my life, but I gave in, gyrating against him, riding the wave of sensory overload. Primed for orgasm, I let another release take me just as Nicholas’s hands grasped my hips and his pumping became harder, faster. We met each other, thrust for thrust, and the pleasure was more than I could bear. Somewhere above me, I heard him groan and felt his ejaculate spill inside me, just as I let out one more cry and swiveled my hips to meet his.
It felt as though I were floating, yet my body was so sensitive I couldn’t bear for him to touch me. Each move Nicholas made to withdraw and give me space sent jitters across my skin. He stepped away and every movement sounded distant to my ears, even when he returned to my side. Something warm pressed between my legs – a wet washcloth, I realized. He cleaned my pussy, thighs, and bottom tenderly, then removed the blindfold.
For a moment, I had to keep my eyes shut. Then I let some light filter beneath the lids. I tried to say something, but my mind seemed to be lost in the same floating sensation as my body.
“Sweet Violet,” he said, reaching up to untie one of my wrists. “Do you want to see what I have done to you?”
I gave an unsteady nod and watched him remove the bindings. When I was free, Nicholas pulled me into his arms and pressed his body to mine. The warmth made me feel safe and happy, and I leaned against him.
He feathered kisses along my temple and forehead, and awareness drifted back to me. The first thing I noticed was the red marker he had used on my skin. Vision finally regained focus and I read, “Lick your pussy until you can’t take it anymore” on the inside of my left thigh. The inside of my right thigh said, “Have you ride me.”
“Do you want to see the rest?” he asked.
I nodded and he took my hands, extending my arms in front of me. Word by word, I took in everything he had written on my body – every loving or intimate thing he wanted to do to me. Some were elaborate and some were as simple as, “Use your body whenever I choose.” Some were sweet and some were about asserting his control. Every last word made me feel wanted, needed, and loved.
When we finished reading his handiwork, he washed my body from head to toe, carried me to bed, and curled up behind me to hold me close.
My patron. My dominant. My lover.
I wanted that moment to never end.
Chapter 8
The loneliness was unsettling. Nicholas had left after all and, with him, so had my confidence that life was as it should be. I still cooked and kept the house tidy, but each task felt meaningless without him.
The radio receiver he left me felt like both a blessing and a curse. Voices crackling with static told of the war – real war once again – in the lower 48 states. Every day they ran through casualty lists, and every day the numbers of the dead and wounded increased. I feared hearing Nicholas’ name on those lists, especially since I did not know where he was.
But what would I do? What could I do? I was trapped here with no way back to L.A., let alone anywhere else in the world…
Someone was pounding on the front door. I nearly dropped the spoon I had been using to stir my oatmeal. It had been two quiet, lonely weeks. Who could possibly be here now? Even though the sound shredded my already fragile nerves, I smoothed my dress and walked to the door. The pounding continued, insistent and…
I paused to listen.
And issuing from a delicate hand; a woman’s.
Without looking through the front window, I flung open the door to reveal a white fur-covered… somebody.
“Violet, quick!” Although the fur piled high around the figure’s shoulders muffled her voice, the urgency in her words was obvious.
I stepped aside and she strode past me into the house. Once I shut and locked the door, I looked at this feminine stranger clad all in white. Then she opened her heavy cloak and pushed back her hood and I gasped. “Adette!”
“They’re right behind me.” Her dark eyes flicked toward the door and then back to me. “Where can I hide?”
As I opened my mouth to speak, I heard the crunch of something heavy riding on top of the snow outside. There was no way to hide her thoroughly in the house – not in what little time I had – but…
“Cellar.” I grabbed her by the arm and led the way into the kitchen, then pointed to the door in the pantry. This was an emergency, no doubt about it.
Adette clambered down the stairs heavily in her furs, while I pulled the door shut behind her, muffling the sound of her flight. I was still not quite sure what was down in the basement. This was a time when ignorance was not bliss. My gaze went to the path of snow now tracked through the house.
For once in my life, I acted without hesitation. Grabbing the mop, I shoved the snow into a pile, then pushed it beneath the sofa where it could melt out of sight. As I rearranged a few of the throw rugs I had made in the past couple of months, hoping to disguise the linge
ring wetness on the floors from the front door to the cellar, there was a new knock at the door. This one was a series of sharp raps in quick succession, issuing from a masculine hand. Toeing the last rug into place in the kitchen, I wrapped an apron around my waist and picked up a dishtowel.
“Coming!” I called, hoping I didn’t sound as frightened as I felt. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. Don’t say too much, I told myself.
When I opened the door, my heart pounded faster at the sight of three men in Regime uniforms. The one at the front snapped, “Stand aside.”
I did as he commanded and watched them tromp into the house, their heavy boots sending snow in all directions. The new mess would certainly help cover the previous one, I thought with a grimace. Then I turned my attention to the soldiers in their heavy black overcoats with the Regime emblem stitched in gold thread over the left breast pocket.
“What do you want?” I asked. When they finally looked at me, I reminded myself not to say more than absolutely necessary.
“Where is Doctor Ferros?” the first man asked. I took him to be the commanding officer, since he stood at the front of their little triangle formation and had gold epaulets on the shoulders of his coat.
“You probably know the answer to that better than I do,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked me up and down, a sneer on his face. For a moment, I realized his features reminded me a little of Nicholas, with his rather chiseled jaw and fair hair, but that was the only resemblance. He looked a little younger than Nicholas, but there was something cold in his flat, gray eyes that made him seem untouchable.
“I suppose I might,” he finally said, “considering the circumstances.”
I desperately wanted to ask, “What circumstances,” but I simply smiled and said, “As you can see, I’m all alone.”
“Actually, I believe that remains to be seen.”
Shit. I had given him an opening.
“There is a woman we followed here, a schoolmate of yours.” The man drummed his fingers against the banister by the stairs, and he sneered as if dissatisfied with his surroundings. “She came this way.”
