“I’m sorry, Gordon. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I lowered my gaze and looked up at him through my eyelashes, batting them innocently as I waited for his response. Gordon smiled and reached toward me, placing his hand gently on my arm.
“Good morning, my Goddess,” his dark eyes met mine, a sultry heat burned within. My body responded by sending a jolt of electric heat below. I squirmed in place as I attempted to gain control of my sudden desire for him to throw me up against the counter and take me from behind. Like he had done in his office the day before.
“Ah, any more talk like that and I shall conjure up round two. Your bacon will surely burn,” I threw my head back and laughed heartily. It felt good to laugh again. If I thought about it, it was hard to remember the last time I felt true joy, except when I was amongst my people at the Red Velvet Room. They truly adored and worshipped me, I was their Goddess, and that was tantamount to everything. In Gordon’s arms, I felt the same warmth. I was glad that he had come back to me, to at least give our beginning a chance, despite the unusual circumstances that surrounded our relationship.
In response, Gordon simply bowed his head and gestured toward the table, indicating I should take a seat. I made my way across the space and lowered myself into the modern-style, metal framed chair with actual marble seats. I was impressed by Gordon’s taste in decorating and he, as always had spared no expense. My fingers absently trailed the silverware as I watched him struggle to drain the bacon grease into a glass receptacle marked “oil” on the side. He saves his bacon grease, he definitely can find his way around a kitchen, my mind interjected. It instantly made me wonder what other skills were hidden up his Armani sleeves.
Gordon continued to prepare my meal after setting a tall glass of orange juice in front of me. His serious look informed me that I had better drink every drop. It was touching how he suddenly appeared to be trying to impress upon me how much I meant to him. I felt the intense energy between us growing and pondered how our future together would be. My fantastical thoughts of a happily-ever-after were diverted when a plate full of morning goodness was plopped down in front of me. Steaming eggs, scrambled and fluffy nestled up against two pancakes smothered in butter. Four strips of bacon and a massive pile of hash browns should have been enough, but Gordon had gone all out. Rye bread, toasted to perfection, melting butter swirled into the pores along their surface. When Gordon took his place across me, I glanced up at him. Considering what to say, I decided to start with an ice breaker.
“Shouldn’t you be in court, young man,” I teased him. A smile found its way to his lips, his eyes actually sparkled as he returned my banter.
“Well, it is my company. I do call all the shots,” his eyes lit up at that phrase, a touch of his old, narcissistic self, lurking in the background. “They already have their instructions for this morning, Leila. Rest assured, you put together a great team over the few years you were working for me.” His last statement struck a chord with me, a tinge of sadness settled in my chest briefly .
Instead of a reply, I pierced some eggs with my fork and began to ingest the wonderful sustenance that had been prepared for me. Glancing around the penthouse, I noticed that Gordon had added additional items to the play area adjacent to where we were seated. I was excited to see him going all out and dedicating himself to the idea that my role as Goddess meant more to me than superficial, sexual desire. It was a deep-rooted sense of identification that I had forged over the years, my power drawn from deep within. Once a scared and fragile being, Goddess rose from the ashes and has taken precedence ever since. Now that Gordon has seen and felt the power of his Goddess, I had no doubt our bond would outlast anything that the world could throw at us. I was sure of it.
One piece in particular caught my eye. Dark leather stretched across what appeared to be a chaise lounge, but a closer inspection would reveal that the furniture had a much more useful purpose. Underneath, barely visible from the angle I was looking at it from, were several miniature eyebolts, fastened to the corners and the center of the frame. It was bondage furniture that could be hidden in plain sight, such a novel idea. The overstuffed cushion would be perfect for a kneeling subject or, if I was feeling vanilla, to have my ankles held above my head while Gordon pounded me with his hard cock. I had to shake my head to clear the last image from my head as I tried to concentrate on eating.
“Where did you find that wonderful piece?” I pointed toward the chaise with my fork before spearing another mouthful of eggs. Gordon’s eyes lit up as his gaze followed mine in the direction of the play area.
“An old friend who owns a bondage equipment business just recently opened up an entire warehouse in Florida. You couldn’t believe the contraptions he has there. Every inch of the space is consumed by gags of every kind, harness sets, and this neat furniture that folds up and stores out of sight. In case you need to keep it under wraps from the little ones,” he looked back toward me, his voice trailing off as he spoke the last sentence.
“It sounds like you have yourself a good friend. Maybe you can show me his website so I can check it out,” I spoke quickly to distract him from his sudden thoughts of impending fatherhood that had him drifting away on a sea of thoughts. He snapped back to the present and smiled at me widely.
“Oh Goddess, that is the kind of thing you definitely need to see in person. Mike, that’s his name, has a magnificent set up. It is truly a wonder,” Gordon’s eyes twinkled with delight, “and he has invited us out whenever we wish to visit. He and his girl, Katie, would love to host us.” Gordon stopped speaking and regarded me with a hopeful look.
“Perhaps, I am not sure I would be able to fly out there until the babies are born,” without a thought, my hand drifted to my abdomen and the growing bump that took up residence there. It felt like I was speaking a foreign language to say that, babies , plural. Gordon’s face lit up at the prospect of our future visit to Florida, ignoring my last statement all together.
“That would be wonderful, I would love to show you around his place. He even has rooms with some of the equipment set up that you can test out. Like demonstration, or floor models,” his last phrase was followed by a deep chuckle as he looked up at me. A hint of longing shadowed his eyes. I was very joyful that Gordon had come so far in his training that the mere thought of such tantalizing pieces of bondage furniture had him so obviously distracted. Most likely, thoughts of how I could tie him to the various objects in the private rooms of Mike’s warehouse, and find the perfect pieces for us both to enjoy. I was pleased .
I finished eating and Gordon immediately sprung to his feet, clearing our plates in one swoop. He placed the dishes in the sink after removing traces of food from their surfaces and running the garbage disposal for a few seconds to wash down the remainder of any pieces that remained. Satisfied with his work, he strolled cheerfully back toward the table. He looked pointedly at the orange juice I had barely touched, his eyes wide in an exaggerated fashion. It was quite obvious I was not getting out of drinking it. I tipped the cup up to my mouth and swallowed the rest in large gulps. Handing him the empty glass, I looked up at him, my gaze meeting an approving stare.
“Is that better, Mr. Roth?” I playfully mocked him. He nodded firmly in return, satisfied that I had ingested everything he had placed in front of me. I wanted to tell him, just because I am pregnant doesn’t mean I am a huge pig and can eat anything in sight, but he appeared to truly enjoy serving me, I could not bring myself to burst his bubble. “Thank you, Gordon, for the wonderful meal,” I was genuinely thankful. It had been a while since I had been doted on, with Matthew missing in action, and Gordon off on the pity party train, I had missed the royal treatment I had become accustomed to. All was right with the world now, or at least it appeared that way on the surface .
The morning had flown by. I barely noticed the hour and instead, turned my attention toward the chaise lounge. Suddenly, I wanted to test out the new piece, I wanted to see Gordon’s form kneeling in the center, bou
nd to the surface with soft, silk bondage rope laced through the eyelets underneath. I rose from my place at the table and motioned for him to follow me, a hint of wily energy was now beginning to stir inside me. Gordon realized that I was making my way to the play area, his face quickly lit up with excitement. I rounded the partition with him at my heels and came to a stop in front of the beautifully crafted piece of furniture.
I turned and looked Gordon up and down, raising my eyebrows in an exaggerated way, he must have understood as he swiftly removed the apron he wore. Gordon stood in front of me completely naked in all of his glory. I cleared my throat loudly and, without a word, he dropped to his knees, bowing forward to kiss each of my feet in turn before coming to rest in front of me. Snapping my fingers, Gordon lifted himself into my favorite presentation, elbows pulled far back so his chest was forced forward. Walking around him slowly, circling my prey, my fingernails trailed softly across his shoulders and around to his chest as I admired his form .
Turning toward the chaise lounge, I patted the surface with my hand. Gordon nodded in silent understanding and crawled up onto its cushioned top. His knees sunk in slightly as he adjusted himself to find a better balance. Spreading his knees wider, Gordon appeared to settle into a relatively manageable position before he laced his fingers together behind his neck again and pushing his chest forward, elbows pulled as far back as he could accomplish.
I retrieved several pieces of silk rope from the console table that was staged in the center of the play area. When I approached Gordon, I wrapped one end of the rope around one wrist several times, securing it with a knot that was tight but could release quickly. Guiding his arm down and around, I placed it at his waist, behind his back, he appeared to understand my intention as he held his arm there while I repeated my actions on the other arm. Once his arms were tied tightly together, bound at the wrist, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation, I wrapped the rope around his waist twice before circling his ankles with either end. I tied my knots with skill and precision before threading the ends through the corresponding eyebolts on the bottom of the chaise lounge. The red color was a stark contrast against his skin. I admired my work as Gordon strained against his bindings and the unusual position he now assumed. Turning back to the console table, I looked over the surface and observed its treasures.
Still on the table from the night before, several implements of punishment were laid out parallel to each other. My fingers trailed the handles of the flogger I used the last time, a long, leather clad paddle, two canes in different lengths, and finally, my favorite, a mid-length crop. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and plucked it from the surface before spinning around on my heel to face Gordon, who remained still on top of the chaise lounge. His eyes cast downward, his face etched with concentrated effort to stay still.
Upon approach, and without warning, I began to warm Gordon’s skin with the crop. The leather tapped his skin, causing him to stiffen slightly before relaxing into submission. Tipped with a triangle of leather, the crop made pale red markings as I worked it across his awaiting flesh.
Tap…tap….tap…
When I finally arched my arm upward and brought it down squarely onto his exposed buttocks, Gordon drew in a sharp breath. Breathing it out slowly through pursed lips, his eyes trained on a fixed location on the floor, he shifted his weight and settled back into his position. Alternating sides, I continued to strike him, counting down inside my head, his skin taking on the appearance of the artful canvas that I adored. Red welts formed on the surface everywhere I had found my mark. Beautiful.
“I want you to count down out loud for me now, backwards from ten as I render your flesh as mine to do with what I will. Do you understand, slave?” Gordon nodded vigorously in response. Smiling down at him, I ran my hand across his bald head, soothing him before I started again. The crop whizzed through the air as I swung it forward and struck the back of his thighs.
“Ten,” Gordon breathed out. He had learned obedience well and I was pleased to hear his voice as it reached my ears. I struck him soundly on the other thigh, the welt forming almost instantly as his skin had been properly warmed up with my last onslaught. “Nine,” he trembled slightly, resisting the urge to drop his arms. The crop danced across his body, an array of crisscrossed patterns left in its wake. Each time the tip found its target, Gordon responded by counting down as instructed. When he reached one, I let the crop fall, swinging from my wrist by the loop that was fixed onto the handle.
I reached forward with my hand and stroked his skin gently, Gordon hissed, his tender flesh awakened and responsive. Leaning forward, I brought his head into my arms and cradled him there until his breathing had recovered sufficiently. Pleased with his resolve, I decided to give him what he deserved. Releasing his head, I dropped slowly to my knees in front of him. Tempted to look down at me, as he surely was, he diverted his eyes quickly, focusing his gaze into the distance.
When I started to stroke him slowly with my hand, a low moan escaped his lips. His phallus standing proudly erect, angry-red flesh stretched to full capacity. Leaning forward, I teased the tip with my tongue, as I continued my rhythmic movement. I took him into my mouth, deep into my throat, his pre-cum salty to the taste. As I withdrew, my tongue rubbed his length in undulating movements, creating a wave motion along his shaft. Gordon responded with a much louder, uncontrollable groan, his head falling backward as his eyes rolled upward and out of sight. I hummed as I plunged forward again, taking his entire length into my throat, his muscles tensed repeatedly as I relentlessly stroked him.
My hand followed the rhythm of my mouth, milking Gordon’s cock from the base toward the tip as I pulled backward, sucking harder as I found the tip and twirled my tongue around it several times, flicking the sensitive area with the tip before plunging forward again to the base. Gordon could not control his motions as his hips began to buck forward with each movement of my head. I felt him begin to quiver in my mouth and finally, he came, releasing his fluid into my mouth. Swallowing every drop, I licked the remnants off his shaft as Gordon tensed every muscle in his body simultaneously before relaxing and allowing his head to roll forward.
Gordon sighed loudly as I released one side of the rope from the eyelet and from around his ankle. I followed by untying the other side and smiled when I noticed the marks the rope had left behind. Just enough of an impression to satisfy me, not overly harmful, that would never do. I untied the bindings from around his wrists, allowing his arms to fall forward and rest at his sides. Gordon straightened up and pulled his arms up, lacing his fingers behind his neck and pressing his chest forward as I walked back around to face him. I was pleased to see that he automatically responded by positioning himself in my favorite position. No instruction, no direct order, he just did it. It appeared that Gordon was still up on a pedestal, only now, that place of greatness was right where he was, on his knees in servitude toward his Goddess. He had come a long way and I could not be happier.
-21-
Gordon and I spent the next few days together at the penthouse. I was enjoying my time with him and had no desire to return to my lonely apartment. We engaged in several sessions, each one more intense than the next, taking the opportunity to utilize every piece of equipment we had. I had to admit, Gordon looked fabulous secured to the x-shaped, St. Andrew’s cross in the corner of the play area. His arms stretched high above his head and his legs spread wide, allowing me complete access to his intimate parts. I even dared to tighten a set of heavy-duty nipple clamps to his chest, the chain dangling down between his pectorals, adding extra pressure to the vice-grip they held on him. The glorious sight was so wonderful that I was tempted to snap a picture with my cell phone, but decided against it. You never know, and I would hate that evidence to leak into the public, for Gordon’s sake, and mine.
When we parted ways that Friday, it was with a heavy heart that I climbed into my Jaguar and headed back to my corner of the world. Gordon apologized profusely for having
to leave, but he had some business to take care of and prepare for court on Monday, begrudgingly I agreed to part ways, considering he had blown off a number of productive days at my mercy. I sighed out loud, alone in the cabin of my car as I guided it in the direction of home-sweet-home.
There was a large pile of mail just inside the door, the product of several days without my presence. I scooped up the collection of advertisements, several bills and a handful of other items. Locking the door behind me as I entered my domicile, I flipped through them as I crossed the living area to the kitchen. I dropped the advertisements onto the counter and began to open the other pieces of mail. Making a mental note that my electric bill was due in a few days, my gas due the following week and my share of the building’s water use butted right up against the gas bill. My heart stopped when I turned my attention to the next envelope in the stack.
“Los Angeles County, Office of the District Attorney,” the return address declared. Addressed to me using my full, legal name. A large, green, Certified Mail sticker was fixed just to the right of the return address. Proof of mailing, I had used it many times during my employment at G. Roth and Associates. My head started hurting the instant I flipped it over to tear through the adhesive that held it closed. Several pieces of papers that resembled legal documents were inside. When I pulled them from their temporary home, my stomach lurched as the words jumped off the page.
It was a summons. I was to appear in a few weeks in the matter of The State of California v. Matthew Chambers. It was perhaps the worst piece of mail I had ever received. As I read the documents attached to the summons, it dawned on me that, as Matthew had suspected and even asked me about, Gordon had indeed pressed charges against him. I was to be present and ready to testify at the hearing to determine whether or not a trial would ensue. Part of me wanted to pull my cell phone from the side pocket of my purse and dial Matthew’s number. I knew he would never answer. If I was receiving these documents, Detective Larson and Mills had done their job well, and Matthew was undoubtedly in the custody of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.
Leila: Goddess The Second Coming Page 16
