by Jaye Peaches
She had been educated by him. Taught how to please him. When to move and when to lie perfectly still. Positions she had not known she could put her body in had been accomplished, and the art of controlling her orgasm was nearing completion.
There was the powerlessness of being taken and used. Dreams and fantasies that had once frequented Casey’s mind were regularly acted out with care and control. She had the ability to end it all if she chose, and although she had occasionally struggled and had to dig down deep within to remain obedient, she generally enjoyed his toys and implements. Little sensual things, like nipple clamps, which had driven her wild and wet, had caused Rob’s cock to swell. There had been moments when masterful words had seeped into her ears as he brandished his vocal chords. He had known when to cajole her into something she found humiliating and when to praise her for trying hard with her burgeoning sexual skills. Conditioned to respond to his voice, especially to certain tones, she now complied without hesitation to his instructions.
When the playtime was complete, they ended in the fashion they both had come to adore—simple lovemaking with no embellishments. There were no blindfolds and no spanking or denying her orgasms. Instead, they explored each other in a subdued state of erotic hedonism. Casey loved to rise up and down on him, impaling herself on his cock and beholding the sight of Rob’s ecstatic face. Casey’s resolve was nearly destroyed by his actions that night, and yet she managed to surrender to him with no fear or anxiety about her future.
* * *
The next day she signed a new contract with a new employer and began the next stage of her life. Little did her new employer know what she did at night and on the weekends. Why, on certain days, she sat gingerly at her new desk and smiled covertly, or how, on the odd weekday, Rob would sent her a text message with a certain instruction, which she immediately carried out. That her flushed features were not necessarily due to the heat of the office but due to her being sent to the restroom to finish another task she had been allotted by her previous employer. Rob never let go of Casey completely. The contract for her role as personal assistant may have been rescinded, but the one as his loyal lover and submissive remained wholly intact and immovable—until one bitter day.
Chapter Fourteen: The Breakdown
A new job meant a different routine for the day. At breakfast Casey made a packed lunch and ensured there was food set aside for Rob’s lunch. Next, there was the commute to the neighbouring town, which varied in length according to the traffic but was generally easy. Work initially had been a joy, but then as she moved out of her probationary period, it grew demanding. Her confidence had taken a knock as she found that juggling multiple tasks, ensuring all the solicitors and clients were happy, and familiarising herself with the special legal jargon used by the partnership required an enormous amount of concentration.
Fretting over evening meals, Casey was grateful for Rob’s reassuring comments and advice. However, she did not have him by her side. She had to manage on her own. His training had proved invaluable though. She concentrated on preparation, learning about her colleagues’ requirements and being polite to those about her. Her administration skills were complimented and generally found approval. Her legal knowledge was sufficient and growing in breadth. All seemed well, even though she occasionally slipped down the slope of self-doubt and anxieties.
The day ended with a drive home along various roads in her Mini. The archaic automobile continued to judder and rattle, yet Casey loved her little car. Its interior was battered and tarnished, the gearbox needed lubricating, and the clutch slipped occasionally, but she would not part with it. The radio was tuned to her favourite station, and with a warm glow in her heart after a particular productive day’s work, Casey had a thought pass through her head that some almighty bubble was about to burst in her life.
It was not a bubble that burst. It was her front tyre.
The car ground on the tarmac and swerved slightly to one side. Fortunately, the car found a path to the side of the road where it was broad, leaving the Mini out of the way of the traffic. Casey switched off the engine and slammed her hands on the steering wheel. It took a number of steady, deep breaths before she could face looking at the ruptured tyre. She kicked it and then winced. Her shoes were not suitable for punishing the tyre.
Her membership to the breakdown club had elapsed months ago. Many of her trips were as a passenger in Rob’s Bentley convertible, and she had not paid attention to the renewal letter. She contemplated ringing Rob and asking for help. However, he was supremely busy and buried deep in the final draft of his latest book. The most attention he had given her over the past few days, if she dared to enter his study, had been grunts and dismissive comments.
No, Casey with her newfound independence could manage on her own. Opening up the trunk, she found the spare—it looked roadworthy, she thought. Then she saw the jack, and it became immediately apparent that she had no idea how to use it. Her ego ruptured as she fingered the cold metal, trying to imagine how it fit under the car.
Rob entered her mind again, but she dismissed him. It would have to be the breakdown club, and she would pay the call out fee. Rummaging through her handbag, she found her mobile and began to search for the number. She failed to notice the small white van which pulled up in front of her Mini. Emerging from the driver’s seat was a young man with tousled red hair. Casey froze with one hand on the door while the other held her mobile. She watched him move to stand by the bonnet of her Mini.
A bright football shirt emblazoned with a popular team emblem combined with jeans covered in flakes of coloured paint were his attire. Casey surmised he was good with his hands. The face, with soft red stubble about the mouth, seemed friendly.
“Hi, do you need help?” The voice was deeper than Casey had anticipated.
“Er, I’m going to call the breakdown service,” she explained.
“Let me change your wheel. Save you the hassle of waiting.” The redhead looked up at the sky. “Looks like rain. I’m Ben, by the way.”
“Er, Casey.”
“Pretty name,” he smiled, and Casey blushed. She glanced about. There were cars going by occasionally and nearby houses in walking distance. What harm could be done by letting him help?
“I like Minis,” said Ben. “My mum had one. Changed her wheel now and again.”
“You must be on the way to some place,” said Casey.
“Finished for the day.” He tapped his fingers on the bonnet. “Take it or leave it,” he said with a note of finality.
“Sorry,” said Casey. “Yes, I would be grateful for the help.”
She watched helplessly as he, with relative ease, began the task of changing her tyre. To help, she passed him things and kept an eye on the traffic to ensure they were not impeding it. The two strangers started to overcome their shyness, and talk ensued. Ben lived locally and was a painter and decorator. He chuckled at the state of her car, and she defended her dilapidated Mini with a passionate tone.
When he was nearly done, Casey received a text from Rob: where was she? She answered, briefly explaining her flat tyre. Rob immediately replied, offering to come and rescue her. Casey tapped a response: she already had a rescuer. A fine young man had pulled over to help.
The next response was terse and wanted to know who her roadside assistant was. Casey foolishly stated she had no idea but that the job was nearly complete. Putting her phone in her pocket, she returned the jack to the trunk alongside the wrecked tyre. Ben brushed the dust off his jeans and stood up. There was the awkward pause as they realised they were about to part company.
“A million thank yous,” said Casey graciously.
“No problem. Glad I came by.” Ben shifted uneasily on his paint stained boots. “Look, we both live locally. How about we meet up for a drink? You can say where—”
“Please,” interrupted Casey nervously. “I’m very grateful, but it would not be appropriate.”
“Oh,” sa
id Ben disappointed. “It’s not payment. I just, you know wondered…” his voice trailed off, and his face flushed the same colour as his hair. “I didn’t stop by because I wanted to pick you up.”
“No, I believe you,” said Casey earnestly. “I’m flattered, but I’m not single, you see.” She waved her mobile before her. “He wants to know where I am.”
“Oh,” said Ben again, and then with a resigned shrug, “Lucky bloke.”
There was nothing more to be said other than further words of gratitude. Ben waited for Casey to drive off, making sure the wheel stayed in place. She could see him in her rear view mirror waving a good-bye, with the disappointment still written on his handsome features.
By the time Casey had placed her door keys on the hook by the front door, Rob had appeared in the hallway. He appeared unusually flustered and almost breathless.
“You’re back!” he announced. “I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you answer my last text?”
“What?” asked Casey, surprised. “I was busy changing a wheel.”
“With another man!” scowled Rob.
“A Good Samaritan who stopped, yes. Saved me a fortune on call out charges,” said Casey with a huff. A soon as the words left her lips, she knew they were mistake.
“Call out? You didn’t ring me!” said Rob, stepping back.
“You’re busy,” said Casey quickly. “I mean, I didn’t want to disturb you, and I can manage. I did manage.”
“With the help of some stranger, some man you don’t know!” shouted Rob.
“Oh,” said Casey with her hands on her hips. “You don’t trust me then. What, did you think I would crawl into my Mini and spread my legs for him…? Or maybe in the back of his van. Yes, of course, I’m always on the lookout for a redheaded young man to fuck!” Casey’s mouth ran away from her brain at a rapid speed.
“Raped in the back of van, more like it!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. People are decent. There were plenty of other people driving by,” fumed Casey.
“I take your safety very seriously,” countered Rob.
“No, you take me, that’s what you do. This is about trusting me! My independence from you.” Casey could not look at his angry features any longer. She slammed the front door behind her and charged back to her Mini. Rob did not follow her as she spun the vehicle about the gravel drive and out of the gate.
She travelled no more than a couple of miles before she pulled over. The tears streaming down her face hindered her vision, and nausea rose up from her adrenaline-driven belly. She felt terrible, not just from shouting at Rob, but because she believed she had blown their relationship. Trust was at the heart of all they did. Her trust in his ability to shape and mould her, not to inflict damage or excessive pain on her when he spanked her into her place. His trust in her to be obedient and thoughtful of his needs. All these things were intertwined and bound together. If one strand fell away, the whole tapestry unravelled into loose threads of nothingness.
The rain arrived, cascading down the window screen and adding to Casey’s woes. She sniffed and looked in her rear view mirror. Somebody was approaching in a vehicle. She recognised the make, causing her to wonder if she should start up her engine and hit the accelerator.
Rob’s Bentley parked up behind her Mini. For the second time that day, a man arrived to rescue the forlorn Casey. He curled up into the passenger seat, shaking the raindrops off his shirt sleeves. She had left so quickly, she had no time to collect a jacket.
“I am sorry,” said Rob. “When you started your job, I underestimated how your new independence would impact me. I miss you.”
Casey took the offered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Her black mascara stained the white linen. “You are always so curt with me when I go into your study.”
“Coping mechanism. Really I wanted to take you over my knee. Feel you next to me.”
“Ah,” said Casey, folding the hankie. “Why don’t you?”
“Doesn’t seem appropriate any longer,” said Rob, straining to speak over the heavy drumming of rain on the roof of the car.
“I miss it,” said Casey in a tiny whisper. “I miss you lifting up my skirt, checking what is below. The way you tap your lap, telling me where to go. Your warm hand cupping my bottom before you start. The caresses between smacks, dipping your finger in me, and the firm hand resting on my back, holding me down. I even like it when you wrap a leg over me to keep me still. I like the sound, the noise of your hand slapping my tender flesh. It echoes around your study. I didn’t think I would, but I do. When I screw up at work, little things, I half expect somebody to take me over their knee and make me feel better. Wash it all away.”
Rob picked up her train of thoughts. “I miss your flaunting, wriggling your bottom when you come into my view. The little shrieks of pain and the whimpers when I tell you I haven’t finished. The way you baulk at me, then simply acquiesce when I remind you that you are mine. I know we do these things in bed, but I didn’t think I would miss them in the day. Work has been hard these weeks, not having you sitting outside my study.”
“I would resign, come back to you, you know that. I only did it because you asked,” said Casey, turning finally to face him.
“No, Casey. It would not be right. I am not your custodian. What we have is not about curtailing you, imprisoning you in my ivory cage, and simply looking at you for my own pleasure. You have to live, be free to follow your own path in life.”
“I will, but not alone, please, Rob. Don’t abandon me!” Casey spoke in desperation.
The back of his hand ran down her cheek, smearing the dampness of her earlier tears. New ones were forming in her eyes, and she blinked them back in the dim light.
“How could I abandon you? I worry about you when you leave the house. That is why I would have come. I do trust you, of course I do. I was jealous. I’ve never been jealous like that before. I want to save you, look after you, and be there for you.”
Casey moved, and his hand slipped across her lips so she could kiss it. “I love you, Rob,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he replied. “Come home. Let me do all those things you described. Let me show you how important you are to me.”
“Please spank me every day, Rob. Not for discipline, but so when I go to work I will feel you, that connection to you as I sit.”
Rob laughed. “Sweet Casey. I would, but not every day. You have to learn to cope, and so do I.”
* * *
Lips met, and as passing motorists drove by, they may have caught sight of two people in a tiny Mini parked alongside a sparkling Bentley. The more observant might have noticed that her head dipped down and disappeared out of view and that his head leaned back on the headrest with his eyes closed.
Casey was no longer a novice when it came fellatio. What once had been a clumsy attempt at pleasing him was now an accomplished act of adoration. The ‘beast’, as she liked to call his penis, had taken on the status of an idol in the sexual corner of Casey’s mind. Whereas she could rationalise being a fan of a particular sport or pop group, or even to have a longing to read one book repeatedly, she could not fathom how she came to want to spend so much time with his cock in her mouth.
Drawing him up into her mouth, her head rose and fell as if a beating drum was playing in her head. Rob moaned fractionally above her head, and she added the sounds of hard sucks and the occasional gasp to catch her breath. His lessons had taught her well. How to hide her teeth, to use the full length of her tongue, to dip down deep without gagging, and to keep her throat wide open. All of her techniques were brought to bear in the front seat of a cramped Mini while the rain lashed down on the fabric of the roof.
A blissful expression descended on Rob’s face, and hidden from view was his girl, working hard to keep his mood one of pure delight.
Chapter Fifteen: Dining Out
Casey felt very self-conscious as her heels clicked loudly on the ma
rble floor. It sounded like a tiny horse’s hooves, and she tried hard to tiptoe to dampen the sound. Her hand gripped Rob’s tightly as he led her across the atrium towards the double doors. She knew he would hold the door open for her, and he did, ushering her into the waiting room.
Immediately the hubbub of voices and the clinging of wine glasses and cutlery filled her ears. The elegance of the dining room was not lost on her. Cream drapes allowed light through the window but protected diners from prying eyes. Glass chandeliers picked up the light and transmitted it around the room, hitting brass framed mirrors and bouncing back. Everything exuded money and style. Casey’s hand trembled a fraction more, and she turned to see Rob smiling at her.
The table was in a corner, and the waiter helped her slip into her chair, offering her a menu. Casey did not open it but lay it on the table. In the seat at right angles to her was Rob, and he ordered aperitifs. The small measure of alcohol would counteract her nerves. Why she was so struck with anxious feelings seemed to amuse Rob but perplexed Casey. He had told her of his intention to take her to an extravagant restaurant several days previously. The red dress she wore was one he chose, and it fit her like a glove—sleek, tight, and moulded around her bosom and hips. When she moved, it went with her like an extra layer of skin. Rob’s tuxedo was as she expected: the perfect refinement to his lean, muscular figure.
Each dish ordered required the correct cutlery, and Casey watched Rob as he selected the chosen implement off the table surface. She copied and concentrated hard on being an elegant moving statue. No munching loudly and no licking her lips. Instead, she dabbed with a napkin. No slurping water from the crystal glass, and strictly no gawping at the other diners.
She was not permitted to cross her legs, and now and again Rob reached under the tablecloth to check that they were slightly parted for him. The lack of panties was another particular requirement of his that he had imparted an hour before they left the house. Standing in the bedroom closet, she had been about to put knickers on, and he had simply shook his head at her.
