Picking my purse up from the floor under the bench in front of me, I pulled my cell phone from the side pocket. I glanced at the face and saw the light blinking that indicated I had received a message. Pressing my finger to the screen, it came to life and revealed a text message had come in from Gordon. A hint of irritation surfaced as I pressed the message to open its contents.
* * *
Leila,
Please forgive me for not saying anything to you. I was advised not to be seen speaking with you, as that could call your testimony into question later. Meet me at the penthouse this evening, please, and we can talk. I will be waiting with baited breath for your response.
Gordon
* * *
I stared at the screen for an eternity, not moving from the place where my feet had landed and planted themselves. It wasn’t until I heard someone behind me clear their throat loudly in attempt to get my attention. Turning my head in their direction, I apologized without words as I stepped out into the aisle and to the side, allowing them to exit. Several people spilled out into the walkway and made their way toward the exit as I continued to digest Gordon’s message. I was deciding how to reply, when it suddenly came to me what to say.
* * *
We shall see...
* * *
It was a simple, yet powerful response. It was my intention to indicate that I was not pleased with my situation, that I was quite upset with Gordon for putting me through all of this, and that I would not be swayed that easily by kind words and emotionally charged gestures. I was to be forced to testify against someone who had served me with heartfelt dedication for years, and I was beside myself with grief over it. Of course, it made sense after Gordon and I had talked about it, hell, if it was me, I may have done the same thing. It was still a painful and complicated place to be, and I was coping with it as best I could, all things considered.
When I finally reached my vehicle, still parked where I had left it in the parking lot at the Los Angeles County Courthouse, I was physically exhausted. I was taxed already by the two lives that were growing rapidly inside my body, and the added pressure of having to appear in court several months from now had me reeling. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, I gripped its surface with my hands, wrenching the rounded arch of the wheel so tight my knuckles had turned white. In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that I would be very large by the time the trial convened, closing in on my sixth month of my pregnancy. That was cutting it pretty close as I had heard Gordon complain on more than one occasion that trials could drag on and on, with seemingly no end in sight. I was very displeased with the entire ordeal, and Gordon would definitely hear about it when I saw him.
I started my Jaguar and carefully eased it backward from its parking slot before turning the wheel and heading toward the exit. My mind raced as I drove, leaving no time for any thoughts other than those that were centered around the trial. I had no idea what they would ask me on the stand, but I hoped I could convince them to provide me with a list of questions they may ask in order to mentally prepare myself to answer them. Pre-trial preparation was something that attorneys often did to prepare those testifying on their behalf, I was sure that this case would be no different. By the time I was ready to exit the freeway and take the surface streets home, I was also mentally exhausted.
Dragging myself from the comfort of the car’s cabin, I locked the door with the remote as I walked toward the stairwell that would allow me to gain access to my building. I entered the dark space of the stairwell and allowed my eyes to adjust from the bright, natural light of the outside to the much dimmer lighting provided by small fixtures on the wall that graduated upwards and eventually out of eyesight along the wall above the stairs. I held tight to the handrail as I forced myself to climb the stairs, each step becoming more tiresome than the last. When I reached my floor, I was relieved that I was finally home, finally back in the safety of my private world. Gaining entrance to my apartment using my key, I rushed inside and shut the door swiftly behind me .
The still air of my apartment was immediately noticeable, not a sound surrounded me except for the beating of my heart in my ears. As I stood motionless in the center of my living area, my phone chimed from inside the pocket of my purse. I pulled it out and touched the screen to reveal Gordon’s response.
* * *
Thank you, my Goddess, my Leila. I will see you this evening. Get some rest, if you can.
Eternally Yours,
Gordon
* * *
I smirked at the phone, as if he could see my facial expressions in reaction to his reply. It occurred to me that I would have my reprieve that evening. Gordon would, without hesitation, submit to my onslaught and I would take out my frustration on his flesh. Wandering into my bedroom, visions of him kneeling in front of me, hog-tied, gagged and even blind-folded, gave me instant relief from the emotional turmoil that I was facing .
The dress I was wearing was removed and discarded as I changed into something more comfortable for lounging around the house. Oversized sweats and a baggy t-shirt, and I was ready to sink into the couch and watch some television. My head was slowly starting to clear, distracted by the delightful image of Gordon taking strike after strike from my crop. Smiling to myself, I turned the television on and waited for the tube to come to life.
Several channels later, I settled on a reality show that featured expectant women and followed them through their labor and delivery. It was a welcome distraction. The woman that was currently being filmed explained her medical issues with that particular pregnancy and how being pregnant with twins presented so much more of a challenge than just one baby. I couldn’t agree with you more. My mind lamented inside my head. Not that I had any other basis for comparison, but if it was already this difficult to tolerate, I could not help but wonder what I was in store for.
-23-
The afternoon faded into evening as I continuously watched delivery after delivery. I noticed that it was getting late and decided I should prepare to meet Gordon at the penthouse. Wandering into my bedroom, I crossed the floor toward the bathroom; a long, hot shower would no doubt help me feel better. Steam started to form quickly on the mirror as I waited for the hot water heater to kick in and dispense heated water. Once I was satisfied with the temperature, I cautiously stepped into the enclosed space. The heat was a little too intense. Reaching up with my hand, I adjusted the hot water side of the faucet until the temperature was more tolerable.
Soapy water spiraled around the drain before finding its way down into the unknown abyss. I watched it for several moments until the water started to change to lukewarm, instead of properly heated. Begrudgingly, I turned off the flow and grabbed a towel as I stepped out of the shower. The steam still hung in the air like a misty curtain. I made my way to the sink and used a comb to untangle the length of my hair.
From the numerous outfits that hung in neat rows in my closet, I chose an adjustable corset with lace finish around the edges. Hand beaded details swirled around the neckline. I untied the knot that held the corset in place in the back and loosened the area round the abdomen, in anticipation of the need for more room. I wrapped the silk around my body and fastened it into place, pulling on the laces in some places to adjust it around my growing belly.
I pulled fishnet thigh-highs over my knees and fastened them to the garter belt I wore. Making sure the seam was straight in the back. I twisted them back and forth on my thigh before settling on a comfortable location. I pulled a black thong over the top of the straps of my garter belt, followed by a black pencil skirt. Humming lowly to myself, I smoothed the skirt downward, the hemline coming just above the knee. As opposed to the last several weeks, I decided to attempt to tolerate spiked heels and slid my feet into my patent-leather, pointed-toe high heels.
Turning side to side in front of my full-length mirror, I admired my completed look. I left the closet and made my way back to the bathroom, where I applied a thin layer of makeup. Bright r
ed lipstick completed my façade. Still feeling a little dejected that Gordon completely dismissed me at the courthouse earlier that day, it was admittedly difficult to discharge the feeling that I was stuck into this situation because of him, and he hadn’t even bothered to look at me.
Shaking off the irritation that surfaced, I looked into the mirror. I pulled my hair back in sections into a French braid, a few strands left hanging around my face. A gentle smile played on my lips as I went back into the closet to choose my mask. My fingers trailed over the surface of the gift Gordon had secretly sent me months ago. I picked it up carefully and gazed at the rhinestones that outlined the top of the eyeholes. Sighing out loud, it seemed like ages ago, when things weren’t so complicated. I carried it out of my room and into the living area.
I was ready to leave before eight so I busied myself with cleaning out my purse. Several receipts were tucked into the envelope fixed to a corkboard on the wall near the stove and two empty gum wrappers finally found their way into the trashcan. Killing time was never my strong suit. As I moved around my apartment, I was stopped in my tracks by a sudden movement deep inside my lower abdomen. At first, I thought I had imagined it, until it happened again, in the same place as before. A distinct tapping from within. Holding my breath, I waited, hoping it would happen again. It didn’t. I sighed out loud to my empty apartment, my hand finding its way up to caress my midsection. That was the first time I felt one of them move and it made it more real. Positive pregnancy tests, morning sickness, even the picture of the two little darlings on the screen, none of them solidified my situation more than feeling the actual movement of another being inside me. It was surreal.
Shaking my head to clear my mind, I glanced at the clock on the microwave across the room and decided it was time to leave. The digital display declared it was 8:30, I had delayed long enough. Gathering my purse, cell phone, keys, and of course, my mask, I started toward the door. I was looking forward to seeing Gordon at the penthouse, if for nothing more than to punish him for his actions earlier. In my mind, his excuse that his attorneys advised him not to be seen speaking with me in court, made perfect sense, but it still stung and had reverberating emotional consequences. I secured my apartment and carefully descended the stairs toward the parking structure that housed the residents of the buildings’ vehicles.
My Jaguar purred as it came to life, automatic headlights glaring against the concrete wall of the parking structure in front of it. I guided the car backwards and pulled out of the exit toward the street. Easing my car into traffic, I headed toward the coast and my final destination. As I crept past each mile, my anticipation and excitement grew. It always had that effect on me, the knowledge that I was about to seize control of my world, take back the reigns, even if it was only temporary, gave me the grounding I needed to get through the rest of life. I was elated and continued on my path with an air of confidence I rarely exhibited in reality.
As always, when I pulled into the parking lot of the tallest building on that block, Gordon’s limousine was already in its usual spot. I looked up at the expanse of the building, and noted the moonlight glowing off of the windows gave it an eerie appearance. Add in the unusual experiences I have had in this building over the past few months, and the structure took on new life as a dangerous place. It was all in my head, I knew that, but I could not shake the uneasy feeling I now got every time I arrived at the penthouse for the evening.
I grabbed my mask from the passenger seat where it waited patiently to be worn. Tying it around the back of my head, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Nodding in approval, I picked up my purse and exited the vehicle. As I walked toward the entrance of the building that now loomed before me, I clicked the button on my keyless remote over my shoulder. A satisfying double beep sounded in response. I slid through the glass doors as they opened in front of me and eased my way through the lobby toward the elevators. A young receptionist behind a desk observed me crossing the space and nodded in my direction. It was the same one as that fateful night, and I was sure that the employees of the building had plenty to say about me behind my back. They would never really know what happened, but at least they were entertained over their bologna sandwiches and cheap coffee as they lamented what really transpired that night.
The elevator doors slid open and I stepped inside. Turning toward the doors, I noticed that the receptionist’s stare was still transfixed on me. I smiled and waved at her in an exaggerated fashion. Suddenly realizing that she had been staring and I had caught her doing so, she shook her head slightly and looked down at the papers she pretended to sift through as a distraction. The doors slid shut and I was hoisted upward, the familiar feeling swirling in my belly as the elevator took me into its bowels and traveled along its path toward the top floor .
When the car came to a stop and the doors slid open, it was the smell that reached me first. The sweet scent of fresh flowers assaulted my nose. Stepping past the threshold and into the penthouse, the low lighting enveloped me. I took a moment to allow my eyes to adjust before walking farther into the space. As I looked around, I noted the source of the heavenly smell that permeated the room. Dozens of fresh roses had been placed into the vases around the room, and more vases had been added, making the entire place smell like a florists’ shop. Scattered about were rose petals, the same color as the roses that were in the vases. They appeared to form a pathway in the direction of the play area. Gordon always made such a to-do over our sessions, it was quite pleasing to have him take his role so seriously and I was seldom disappointed with his efforts. My feelings of angst toward him quickly dissipated when I saw him poised across the penthouse, completely naked and ready for me, staring out the large window toward the ocean.
I tried to approach him without disturbing him, he was obviously deep in thought, however, the marble floor did not agree with me and my stiletto heels. The sound of my heels clicking on the floor caught his attention quickly and he turned to meet my gaze. For a brief moment, his eyes found mine and held them prisoner. There was something behind his eyes that evening, something deep within that I could not quite put my finger on. It was not anger or resentment that I was used to seeing in his gaze, this time, it was something different. Something softer, something sincere.
As I drew nearer to him, he turned toward me and dropped slowly to his knees, his eyes still on mine until the last second, when he finally diverted them to the floor. Surprisingly enough, I was not angry at him, I was intrigued and curious. I would definitely have to find out what was grinding the gears inside that beautiful, bald head of his. He was usually guarded and did not discuss his internal musings, but I felt that this new air about him was definitely something I needed to discover.
Gordon bent forward, lowering himself toward the floor, showering my feet with kisses as I reached him. I smiled down at him and waited until I had my fill of the wonderful vision of him worshipping at my feet. Taking several steps backward, Gordon took it as his cue and lifted himself upward. Without a word, without an order or direction, he pulled his arms up and back, lacing his fingers behind his neck and thrust his chest outward. Such a good slave. I smiled at my silent admiration and walked slowly around his form, cemented in place by his sure will to please me. Definitely a welcomed distraction from the chaos my life had become.
As I stepped slowly around his kneeling figure, Gordon’s eyes flitted toward me, attempting to get a glance of me out of his peripheral vision. I reached out and placed my hand on his head, stroking his hairless scalp with my fingers several times before dropping to his neck and shoulders. His skin felt hot to the touch, muscles quivering at my contact. It was a delicious sight. I took it in longer than I usually would, enjoying his figure kneeling in the position I had taught him I preferred. He took on the look of Atlas, eternally shouldering the burdens of the world, only Gordon’s burden was not physical. Perhaps that is what I saw behind his eyes, the look of a man holding an immense burden upon their shoulders and never willing to admit defe
at or ask for help. It seemed he would be willing to handle any burden for his Goddess, at least for now.
Smiling wickedly down at him, I turned toward the play area and made my way to the console table that Gordon had prepared. On its surface, as usual, implements of punishment and desire were laid out for my choosing. I touched the handle of each one in turn, waiting for that tingle of energy to reach my hand, indicating that was the item I should use that evening. The flogger, the crop, the cane. They always spoke to me that way, begging to be used, crying out to punish the flesh of my subject.
The strongest energy emanated from the cane that evening. Not my usual choice, but easy to wield and it always left a lovely pattern on the skin. I wrapped its handle in my hand and lifted it from the table. As I turned and faced Gordon, I twirled the cane around like I was leading a parade across the dark, marble floor as I went. Gordon’s head tilted slightly to the right, evidently attempting to steal a glance of me in the reflection of the windows.
Tap…tap…tap…
I started to warm the surface of his skin with light taps of the cane. Gordon responded by pulling his elbows back and pushing his pelvis forward, his glorious erection making his excitement evident. I twirled the tip of the cane across his skin, goosebumps formed in its wake. A soft moan escaped his lips as I continued to tap his backside with the cane.
Tap…tap…tap …
“Who am I?” I asked, a demanding tone taking control of my voice. I stared down at him, continuing my path with the cane, I waited for his response.
“You are my Goddess, I am your faithful servant, your devoted submissive,” Gordon whispered. His voice was low and husky as he uttered his words of dedication. It was enjoyable to hear and I rewarded him by finally arching my arm up and striking him across both sides of his buttocks at once. He drew in his breath quickly through clenched teeth and steadied himself for another blow.
Leila: Goddess The Second Coming Page 18
