by Syra Bond
Suddenly he appeared in the doorway and told me to stop writing. I wanted to say I had more to do and he would not be satisfied if he read my work in such an unfinished state, but I could see he was in no mood to listen to my excuses. I put the unfinished pages down and stared at them in hopeless frustration. He said he had decided to untie me. He wanted to see how I would react to being free. It had been so long since I had not felt the bonds around my ankles I could hardly remember what it was like. He bent down and slowly untied the thin rope. I looked at the back of his neck as he worked to loosen the tight knot. It was as though he was my servant, as though he was tending to my needs, almost as if he was my captive. I imagined he was worshipping at my feet, holding them in adoration, letting them rest in his upturned palms, caressing their soles and running his thumbs up around my ankles. I thought of him prising his fingers between my toes, gently easing them apart, and pressing his fingertips into the soft indentations between them. I sat up as straight as I could and my head drooped back. I moaned as the tension around my ankles eased, and I let my knees sag apart as the rope finally fell away.
Chapter 11
I spent the time he was away with my thighs apart. I kept the soles of my feet together and let my knees sink sideways until they touched the floor. I did it so slowly I could barely see my legs moving, and the tension caused the muscles in the insides of my thighs to form broad hollows at their tops. I followed the sight of them upwards and stared at the soft, fleshy mound resting there. My pubic hair had grown back a little, but still did not cover any part of the pink shadowy rift of my pussy. I pressed my hands flat on the floor behind me and moved my feet apart, stretching my legs wide and flexing my toes. I continued sitting up straight, of course, but I was determined not to let my ankles touch each other, and when I felt like sleeping, I pulled myself up against the wall so even while I slept my legs would be wide apart and my pussy fully exposed.
I think he must believe I am getting better. His attitude has changed. He is not so critical about my work any more, and although the beatings continue, untying my ankles felt almost like letting me go. I wonder if that will ever happen. I have been resigned to the way things are for so long I hardly think of being released. I do not even know where I am and I cannot remember coming or being brought here. I have begun to wonder how long I have been a captive, but I cannot work it out.
Each period of darkness slips into the next and only the interludes of work separate them, so I do not know how long they last. I wondered how long it had taken my pubic hair to grow back, but I gave up trying to work it out. I must keep on with my story. It is the only way of finding out what has happened to me, and perhaps it is the only way of finding out what is to become of me.
With my head hanging over the edge of the balcony, I flicked my tongue out and ran the tip around my dry lips. I was not aware of focusing on anything. I was simply staring, peering into the mixture of light and dark below me. Slowly my eyes came back into focus, and when I looked into the alley the taxi had gone and there was no one there. I blinked in case I was mistaken, but a nervous emptiness in the pit of my stomach told me the scene had changed. The players had vanished and with them the images inflaming my imagination. I felt like moaning in despair, like striking my fist against the balcony in frustration, but instead I licked my lips again and rocked back and forth on my aching hands and knees.
I felt a hand stroking my bottom, moulding it into its palm, reawakening my senses, bringing me back into the world. I lifted my buttocks to let the hand know I was enjoying its touch; that I was responding to it. The hand slipped between my thighs and lightly fingered the lips of my pussy, which was still aching with desire.
‘After you have slept a while,’ Galen said quietly, ‘you will go in the taxi and do whatever you are told to do by the driver and anyone else. Face your fears and bring out your wickedness. Do you understand what I want from you?’
I nodded, but it was a vague nod and he was not content with it. He wanted to hear me say the words.
‘Do you understand, Syra?’ he demanded gently but firmly. ‘Speak to me and tell me you understand.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ I whispered. ‘I must do whatever I am told by whomever tells me. I must face my fears and bring out my wickedness.’
‘Remember, how bad you can truly be will be tested by the unknown. Do not expect anything to be either as it appears or as you have already seen. Facing your fears will make you confront things you did not even know you feared. It is the only way you can hope to be set free into a world of complete and fulfilling pleasure.’
His words chilled me. There was something menacing about them, as if he was pronouncing a sentence on me I might not survive. I shivered and tensed my arms in an effort to lift myself up. His hand moved caressingly up my back to between my shoulder blades. He pressed down and I lowered myself again, crouching like an obedient puppy, my face hanging over the edge of the balcony, waiting until he decided to release me. He kept me there with only the gentlest pressure. I needed nothing more. In fact, I did not even need his touch or his commands. His will was strong enough to hold me and I was helplessly subject to it. But it was not merely the pleasure of humiliation driving me on. Subjecting myself to his will ultimately would lead me to my freedom, to the release of my unconfined wickedness. The chill I had felt faded, warmed by a hot wave of expectancy surging through my body as I wondered what lay in store for me.
At last he let me go, but I did not move until he held my arm and encouraged me to get up. I stood in front of him, but I was a different person than the last time I faced him this way. I had changed since I knelt before him and clung to the unprotected edge of the balcony while he smacked my bottom and I trembled in the throes of a violent orgasm watching the brutally sensual scene down in the alley. Now all I wanted was to go out into the world and test the limits of my sexuality, of my wickedness, of my self.
‘Go and sleep,’ my master urged, ‘and then, when you awake, dress like the girl you were watching in the alley and go down and wait at the front door. The driver will pick you up there.’
I went obediently through the green doorway, spread myself on the small bed in the corner of the shower room and went to sleep.
When I awoke, what felt like only a short time later, my limbs were uncomfortably stiff. I got up and stood in the shower letting the heavy stream flow down over me like a waterfall, relaxing my stiff muscles as I languidly washed. The cold dousing refreshed me, and afterwards I did not dry myself, but let the water drip from me as I poked amongst the clothes in the wardrobe. I found a short blue pleated skirt very much like the girl’s from the alley, and a white blouse. There were also some white cotton panties, smooth and delicate, that hugged my bottom when I pulled them on. I stroked my hand across them, feeling their softness encasing my buttocks, and then I slipped a finger beneath the elasticised edge, testing their tension as they pulled snugly against my flesh. I smoothed the gusset against my labia and relished the way it moulded to the soft lips.
I then combed my hair back while it was still wet and put on the rest of the clothes. I found some light-blue high-heeled sandals, and then I stepped out onto the redwood floor of the upper level and looked around for Galen. He was not around, so I walked down the spiral staircase and across the ground floor terrace to the front door.
It was a lovely night and the air outside was warm and fragrant with the scent of citrus and camellias. The taxi pulled up at once. The driver leered at me through the window before leaning back and opening the rear door from the inside. ‘Senorita?’ he said, with mock solicitude as he pushed the door open.
I slipped into the back, feeling different to when I was last in the vehicle; more confident, more assured and more determined.
He drove off and I spread my bare arms across the back of the seat. The warm air blowing in through the window fanned coolness beneath my armpits, and the del
icate perspiration dewing my skin was blown dry by the buffeting breeze. I felt as though I was the principle player in a drama, as though I was acting something out, as though Galen had written a story for me and I was simply following the script. First I would dress like the girl I had watched in the alley, and then the cab would pull up at the door and drive me to another alley just like it. There I would lean against the bonnet of the car and be tied and thrashed and fucked in every imaginable way by men waiting to take their turn with me. My stomach churned with excitement. I hoped I could do it. I knew this was my ultimate test. I knew this was what Galen had planned for me. I knew I must not fail him, because failing him would also mean failing myself, and I could not bear that.
We drove through tree lined streets in which large houses were set back from the road behind high stone walls. The smell of citrus was everywhere and I tilted my head back and inhaled it deeply. Its freshness filled my senses and I felt energised, as if the tangy scent transported me back to when I was an innocent girl with nothing to fear or to worry about. The cab came to a stop and I heard the laughter and shouting of teenage girls. Over the low wall of a convent school, lissom female students were taking advantage of the cool night air and playing netball under the supervision of two nuns, the fading light, and that coming from a few windows overlooking the yard, just enough for them to play in for a little while yet.
The driver opened my door and pointed to the wall. I widened my eyes, not knowing what he meant at first, and then I realised he wanted me to bend over it. I saw one of the girls lazily toss the ball into the net and a loud cry of joy went up as the victorious team embraced each other, giggling happily. The nuns blew their whistles and shepherded them back to the centre of the yard as I emerged from the cab and stood against the wall. The rounded top rose to the middle of my thighs and the stone felt warm as I pressed against it.
‘Inclinate,’ the driver told me sternly. ‘Here.’
Another goal, more shouts and the scoring team ran elatedly around the yard hugging each other. The nuns blew their whistles, but this time their charges were too excited to come to order immediately.
‘Inclinate!’ the driver snapped.
With relief I realised we could not be seen in the shadows, so I bent forward over the wall and felt my lower tummy curve over the rounded stone ledge. I stretched my hands down to the ground and touched it with my fingertips. The girls were shouting excitedly and the whistles were blowing as the driver lifted the hem of my blue pleated skirt. I felt the exposure as he revealed my white panties, and I imagined him glaring lustfully at the fine material pulled tightly across my smooth buttocks. He held the hem of my skirt up and I knew he was looking at me closely, staring at the shadowy crease in the centre of my panties and gazing down at the gently bulging flesh of my pudenda squeezed firmly into the tight cotton. He took the hem of my skirt and laid it down across the small of my back, exposing the top edge of my panties along with the thin strip of flesh between them and the waistband of my skirt. I braced myself on the ground with my fingertips and strained to look up so I could watch the nuns and their wayward students. The sisters were still struggling to bring them to order and one of them was tussling with a knot of excited girls in an attempt to pull them apart.
I felt the driver’s fingers slip beneath the waist of my panties, lifting it away from my skin and peeling them down over my buttocks. He used both hands to expose my bottom, little by little. As he pulled the soft cotton away from my vulva, I felt the warm juices of my pussy making the material stick to my labial lips, and when it came free, I relished the cool caress of the evening air against my nakedness. He drew the panties down my thighs, twisted the material and wedged it just above my knees before letting it go. My nipples hardened against my blouse and I swallowed hard as my mouth went dry with anticipation.
I saw one of the nuns pulling two of the girls apart; they were fighting each other for the ball. She looped her arm around the waist of one of the girl’s and spun her around, then grabbed the rebellious student’s pink panties and tugged them down just far enough to expose firm young buttocks. I licked my lips and gasped as the first smack landed on my waiting bottom. I felt every part of the driver’s open hand as it made contact with my flesh, each finger a burning, smarting strip stinging me, and I clenched my cheeks to absorb the pain. Then, before I had time to recover, he spanked me again even more viciously. I sagged over the wall as I watched the nun reprimanding the two disobedient girls. As the driver spanked me I watched the sister raise her own hand and bring it down on the bare bottom of her squirming, wilful pupil. The driver kept spanking me and the nun was nearly as relentless with her charge. My fingertips clawed at the ground in an effort to brace myself against the ecstasy flowing through my body and culminating between my thighs in a breathtaking climax.
Then I heard him opening his trousers, sensed him pulling out his erection, and an instant later a flood of semen coated my burning buttocks, cooling them wickedly. With the sight of the nun holding the girl in the crook of her arm and spanking her fixed in my mind, I stiffened and closed my eyes as I suffered another explosive convulsion of pleasure between my thighs.
Eventually I wearily turned, sank to my knees and sucked the driver’s diminishing cock until it ceased pulsing between my lips, and I had swallowed the last seepings of his ejaculation.
About an hour later the cab stopped at the junction of two busy roads. The driver turned his head to one side and spoke without looking at me. ‘Bajate,’ he commanded.
I did not understand him. I thought perhaps he was picking someone else up or was complaining about being stuck in the traffic.
‘Bajate!’ he shouted, leaning over the front seat and opening the back door for me. ‘Here!’
I felt confused, but I got out and stood on the pavement.
He smiled mockingly and drove off. People jostled me and my ears were filled with the din of traffic. I felt abandoned and my stomach sank as my heart pounded. Galen had deceived me. He had given up on me, tossed me aside and rejected me because I could not meet his expectations. I looked around, not knowing what to do.
A hand fell heavily on my shoulder. ‘Ah, the little experiment,’ Mora declared, in his thick Spanish accent. ‘So, Galen delivered you as he promised.’
My heart started beating harder and faster, this time not with the anxiety of disappointment but with relief and anticipation of fulfilment. Galen was not rejecting me. This was part of his plan. This was part of his test for me. This was how he was making me face my fears, the way he was teaching me how to let myself go completely. I hung my head and waited for Mora to tell me what to do, knowing whatever it was it would be part of Galen’s plan. I had no reason to feel alone, for my master had assured me he would know everything that happened to me even before I told him about it. A shiver of excitement travelled up my spine as I thought of standing naked in front of Galen and telling him all I had done, knowing that when I finished he would bend me over his lap and spank me no matter what.
‘Follow me,’ Mora commanded as he turned and walked quickly along the crowded pavement swinging a closed umbrella in one hand.
I walked behind him with my head lowered, watching his footsteps and following directly in his path. I imagined I had a rope around my neck and he was leading me to a market to sell me. I was just his chattel, his possession - his slave. I displeased him somehow so he was getting rid of me. He was going to pass me on to someone else, perhaps someone more cruel. My new master would be heartless and brutal. He would begrudge having paid for me, so he would keep me on starvation rations and give me no clothes to wear. My only value would be as an object to sell to strangers for sex. But even that did not raise enough money to please him so he would beat me every night and lock me in a small cupboard. He would leave me there under orders not to move or speak, and he would only let me out to gratify the increasing demands of the men he found to use
me...
Mora stopped at the entrance to a shop. The window was dimly lit, but I could make out a sparse display of several items of women’s underclothing - a pair of pale green panties, a thinly cut suspender belt in what appeared to be black satin, and a bright blue basque made from velvet with vertical ribs and elegant hand-worked suspenders. The double doors leading into the shop were large and constructed from heavy smoked glass, with chrome handles and chromium frames. Mora looked into the window, slowly studying the items displayed there. I waited behind him and felt perspiration breaking out on the back of my neck.
Someone opened an umbrella as they passed by on the pavement, and its shadow fell over me like a threatening spectre. I looked up and saw that no stars were visible through the dense cloud cover. The air was thick and moist and it was difficult to take a deep breath. There was an electric expectancy in the atmosphere, as though the world was about to end in a sudden cataclysm. I felt a drop of rain land on my shoulder. It was heavy and warm, and was followed by another drop, and then another landing on my forehead like a baptismal blessing. I held my breath... and the night exploded in a violent deluge. The downpour stunned me even as it seemed to awaken me, filling me with a charge of new energy, and the warm, pounding water flowed over my skin like a divinely drenching orgasm.
Mora pushed me into the shop doorway and pressed up against me. He wormed his hand between my legs and squeezed my pussy. He lifted me up on his palm, driving two fingers between my sex lips, straining the gusset of my panties and threatening to tear them. ‘I will buy you something,’ he said roughly, and shoving the door open with his shoulder, pulled me into the shop.
He approached a woman sitting at a desk. Although seated, I could tell she was tall, and her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a black suit with a white blouse beneath it. She looked up at him and he spoke to her in Spanish. She glanced at me almost disapprovingly, and then went and produced a box from a drawer in a large wooden cupboard. The box was filled with expensive panties. Mora poked about amongst them, selected a pair of white silk with finely embroidered edges, and handed them to the woman, who was standing beside him.
