I want his love. I want myself freed from my bonds so I can hold him. Beyond his great bravado, I know there is a smaller more vulnerable being inside the man. At these moments when he opens up to me, I’m not so needy. This is my chance to give back with all the love I feel for him. But we move on and I’m still bound.
I feel the pulsing of his cock beating against my snatch, and with every throb, another spasm in my belly travels outward. Even my hands and feet tingle with sexual joy.
His naked hips rise slightly, he parts his legs and touches the head of his long eight inches of cock at the shaved doorway of my cunt. He took such time with me today. From my asshole to the bush of hair covering my pubic bone the flesh is now smooth as a baby’s. I’m reduced, made less womanly but more sexual—a contradiction, but true. Is this like fucking a young virgin? I wonder. Does my nakedness make me more vulnerable? It would be hard to read why my master does what he does. But I’m sure the effect is as he wants; there are no impediments, not a speck of hair to get in the way of a smooth entry into my interior. He lunges forward and I gasp:
“OH … MY…GOD!”
The exclamation comes out like a bright burst of sheer wonder. My chest arches to greet him as he slowly lowers himself and we meet skin to skin. Another shiver of arousal moves wildly through me. His face dives into my neck and he lightly kisses me across the collar bone. For a moment, he rises enough to take my breasts in his hands and kiss those gently too. If only I could give back the passionate affection he gives me!
Again, he drops down and his chest presses into mine. My legs draw up as best they can while bound, and my master begins to move, slowly at first, then with ever increasing speed, driving himself deep into my clenching, creaming, cumming hole. His every thrust speaks with passion, with devotion to our mutual pleasure. I feel his powerful need rise up all around me, swallowing me inside the shroud of his being. I want more of him, I want him deeper than I’ve ever experienced a man. I want him to drive out all the other men and masters who have taken my portal as theirs. I want this to be his alone, solely the property of my Locksley.
The sustained fucking always alarms me. After the first spasms of a fiery cum clench my belly tight and I finally relax, he’s still thrusting hard and I begin to feel the teasing arousal mount up again, this time a fiercer beast. Even though it takes more effort, I know I’ll cum again … soon. I feel as if my soul is in tatters, lifting into the sky toward the sun like a discarded piece of paper, ready to burn up in the heat. When the second orgasm crashes my body, I am delirious. I thrash outrageously, jerking my wrists against the fierce restraints until I feel them cutting into me. My legs thrash too, awkwardly because they are held wide by the bar. I cannot hold him when my body seeks with all its might to hold him, and my heart desires to soothe and comfort him. Is there something about me that displeases him, that even now he must keep my body from loving him back with the same sincerity, the same power, the same determination that comes from him?
Something I wonder, though, if I would so fervently desire to love him if I were not bound? Are my emotions just a creature of the sexual games we play? The end result of our monstrous fantasies? Is this love real, not just an act?
I have to believe it’s real; this is all I know of love. What more could there be?
I have to trust that Locksley feels my love and shares it. Now if we could only complete the act of love we have begun, take it from the D/s games we play and bring it into the big wide world outside this private but narrow realm. If I were to mention this to him, I know he’d say I’m being too romantic. I should get the fancy notions of true love out of my head.
He calls himself a pragmatist. And isn’t that just like a man?
“I wish I could stay,” I tell Locksley as he unties the ropes that bind my hands.
“Hmmm, look at these,” he says. He carefully massages the indentations around my wrists. “I wonder if anyone will notice.” His blue eyes laugh, and his blonde hair is all sexily disheveled.
“I doubt that anyone will notice.”
“These are deep.” He kisses the rope burns and the wounded flesh.
I see that they are, but I love them. “I’ll wear bracelets then, a bunch of bangles, so no one will see them. How’s that?” It’s nice, for once that he’s so concerned with how I present myself to the world outside our kink. He was, in fact, encouraged by reports of my reformed work ethic. ‘Discipline, self-discipline,’ he continues to assure me, ‘is the answer to what troubles your life.’. It’s been sweet of him to have taken such an interest. And now this. It almost feels like a real relationship.
“I really do have to run… be on time, remember?”
“Then scoot,” he says, pushing off the bed, and pulling me with him to my feet. He kisses my nose and gives my ass a fierce spank that makes me giggle. After a long, deep kiss, I’m on my way. I’m dressed in minutes and out the door.
***
The old building where I work was once an enormous warehouse before Randall Tyler gutted it, remodeled the interior, and split it into four separate suites. The bulk of it is still used for Textile Trading, Inc., my company, well, at least part mine. As much as I liked Randall’s ideas for renovation, I insisted that he keep the old brick intact and some of the other elements that give the building its shabby charm. I know he hated my using the word shabby to describe the look I was after; although I assured him that shabby chic was definitely a millennium style, and far more appealing than a lot of white, plasterboard walls and low ceilings with ugly fluorescent lighting.
I’m feeling especially lighthearted turning the key in the lock at 8:45 am—the time I’m supposed to be in, and rarely am, at least until this week when I rolled out the ‘new’ me. The incident with Randall Tyler walking in on the middle of a hard and guttural ass-fucking was my wake-up call. I’m just waiting for him to notice how much I’ve changed; but then he hasn’t been in the office since that day.
I think even Sally has been impressed with my change. I’ve beat her to the office all five days this week. This Friday feels like a grand triumph. I’ve finally turned the corner on the messy state of my life and begun to set things right.
I close the metal warehouse door behind me and move up the flight of stairs, juggling a briefcase full of papers in one hand, a coffee mug in the other, all the while my bangle of bracelets getting in the way of smoothly executing this balancing act. My thick high-heels are no picnic to walk on either, but they looked so good with the turquoise stockings and lavender mini-dress, I couldn’t resist. Yes, this is a little more outrageous than the ‘new, organized me’ would ordinarily wear. But, so what? I doubt if anyone will be stopping in today, and if so, I’ll just call it ‘casual Friday’. Locksley would approve of such an edict coming from the boss—although I did not let him see how I was dressed! Feeling so especially good about myself, there’s even a smile on my face as I enter the office.
But I stop short just inside the door, and my brave persona vanishes. Shock and wonder hit me like a ton of bricks. My briefcase drops from my hand; the coffee spills and I clumsily stumble back against the door to catch my balance in the heels, while the garish bracelets jangle discordantly. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Time warp? Imagination? A dream? No, not a dream—a nightmare!
“What the fuck?” the first words out of my mouth are blurted out before I have time to think straight.
“Good morning, Dana.”
“Benjamin, what the hell are you doing here!” It’s obvious what he’s doing; he’s rifling through folders on Sally’s desk, like he might have three years ago when he actually worked here. I haven’t seen him in nearly three years and the shock to my system has my heart jumping to my throat, my stomach queasy, and on top of all that, I belch in very unladylike way.
I finally stand up straight, noting how the heels seem to level the playing field. He’s tall, I’m short and normally staring up into his brown eyes. His eyes look a little sadder, a little droopier
than I remember. Wasn’t that what gave them their sex appeal? He reeks it now, as always, but I fend it off with a shield of emotional armor forged by memories of how we split. I’m happy to find that the fire behind my violent passion for this man has now cooled to a simmer I can hardly feel.
“Randall, didn’t call you?” he asks. I almost think he’s mocking me.
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked my messages this morning.”
“He hired me back,” he says coolly.
“What!” I’m so stunned that if I weren’t standing with my back supported by the closed door behind me, I’d simply wilt to the floor.
“He said the business was in crisis, and if I didn’t show, I’d be losing what little I own. Perhaps I could help rectify things before—” he hesitates, then stops altogether.
“Before what?” I finally have to ask.
“Before Dana throws the whole blasted thing away. I think that’s what he said.”
“What! I am not throwing the whole blasted thing away. The gall of the man.” I’m functional again, hopping mad, storming to my office, before I remember that the papers and my briefcase are strewn across the floor. I turn around, dropping to my knees to pick up the mess, fuming the entire time, red-faced and blushing like an unmasked thief.
I have no appreciation for sanity now, but I’m so embarrassed by the silly incident that I march into my office and slam the door.
After the storm of sound, there’s utter quiet in both offices. I wonder what Benjamin is doing? Should I wait him out? Should I pretend this never happened? Should I assume it’s just a bad dream from which I’ll eventually awaken? A few minutes stretch into ten, maybe twenty. Finally, there’s a knock at the door, and just like in the past, Benjamin opens it without my answering. Knocks are just a friendly warning he’d be quick to explain.
“I don’t have time for this, Benjamin,” I say flatly.
“You should.”
“I don’t. I have work to do. And, no, you’re not hired back. I don’t care what Randall Tyler says.”
“I don’t think you have any say in this, Dana,” he says. So calm. So cool. “It’s his decision; whether you like it or not, he has the power to close this place down and you know that.”
I take a deep breath while trying to remain calm. “Well, isn’t that just swell. As far as I’m concerned, if he wants you here, I’m gone.” I rise from my seat with every intention of walking out.
Benjamin’s eyes flash hot. “Don’t you do it, Dana!” he snarls.
I stop in my tracks.
“I swear, if you even try to get beyond me, I’ll blister your sorry behind.”
I greet this threat in the same old way—with a tingle of desire tickling that part of me that loves to be spanked. I know the threat is real. How many times have I heard that sort of warning before?
Still, I’m pissed.
“Oh, no, you won’t!” I smolder. “You don’t order me around.” My hands clench into fists and it takes all the power I have not to attack him. I would pummel him into the ground if I even knew I had a chance at hurting him.
But then, his glare, those intensely hot brown eyes go straight inside, climbing through my body and fermenting my sexual juices. Damn him! His threatening look has the power to calm my wrath and I back down.
“Tyler has no right to do this without consulting me.”
“He is a primary partner, Dana.”
“The silent partner, Benjamin!”
“Not when you’re ruining the company.”
“That’s impossible. How can I ruin what I love!”
“It’s okay to admit you’re not capable of doing the job,” he says so with a condescending air that makes me flinch.
“Well, aren’t you the great advisor? And who could run it better than I could? This is MY company!”
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
“But obviously that’s what you think, what Tyler thinks.”
He’s rattled. I can tell. There’s a vein in his neck that tends to throb when he’s upset. Good!
“You’re tubing the whole bloody thing, Dana. It’s about time you saw that.”
“I suppose he mentioned the incident last Friday?”
“Incident?” He looks at me innocently, maybe he doesn’t know.
“Just as well,” I say, dropping the matter and relieved that I didn’t have to reveal that sordid little episode. “So what have you been doing, hanging around waiting for me fail, so you could come back and gallantly save the day? You have nothing better to do than to show up where you’re not wanted?”
“I wouldn’t have come. But I’d just finished a consulting job and had the time to spare.”
“I see. And exactly what are you supposed do?”
There a shuffling noise at the door. “He’ll be assuming the managerial role he had before.” It’s Randall Tyler speaking, cool as a cucumber, impeccable as always, suddenly there when he wasn’t there before. What is he? Some kind of magician?
Tyler walks in and smiles. “I thought it best, Dana, for you to get some help with some of the problematical matters at hand. He’s consulting; I’m paying him. For my agreement with you to continue, for Textile Trading to continue to use this building, he’ll be in charge until your current crisis passes and you can put some life back into this business. While Ben’s here, you can go back to your old position, which you were much more suited for. You should see this as a positive move. I could have hired someone new, but I knew that Ben knows Textile Trading better than either of us, and I don’t think that’s changed. He’s still working in the mercantile business in Seattle. It shouldn’t take too much to have him up to speed. He’s going to get a good grasp of the problems here today. He’ll return to Seattle tonight and be here ready to dig in on Monday morning. I’d suggest that you find a suitable spot for him where he can get organized.” He stares around. “In fact, you might want to offer him this office; it would seem to be the logical thing to do.”
He knows this was Benjamin’s office before. But am I going to give it up now? Like hell I will!
“Now, I have lots to do today. You two can figure out the rest.” He starts to leave, but stops, and drops this little crumb, which I supposed he intended as a peace offering: “And, Dana, I know you’re a proud woman. I know this company means a lot to you. Let this work and you’ll be glad you did. And please, please, don’t let your relationship get personal again. Keep it out of the office, if you know what I mean.” He punctuates the remark with a knowing twinkle in his eye that refers directly when he saw me last. I try not to blush.
Once Randall is gone, it takes some time before either Benjamin or I can speak. I know he’s waiting for me. I’m trying to calm, trying not to act like a fool, but my heart’s just beating too hard, and my temples throb with the ferocity of a jackhammer drilling concrete.
I stand at my desk gazing down at the disorganization. My attempts at order now seem rather stupid; even more stupid that I believed I’d made some headway into the mess. I’m a disaster just crying out for another fuck-up, which I’m sure was about to slap me down again.
“I’m not giving up this office. We’ve used my old one as a storeroom. I’m sure if you move the furniture around a bit, it will work.” My voice sounds hollow and disconnected. My emotions are strangely flat as if I’m speaking from a wound I know is there but cannot identify now.
“Where I work is not a problem,” Benjamin says.
I finally look him in the eye again. “And if you think you’re going back to anything resembling the relationship we had before you left, you are mistaken.”
“I have no intention of going down that road again, Dana. Besides, the love of my life lives in Seattle. I’ll be commuting here during the week, going home on Friday afternoon, returning Monday morning.”
I greet this news as passively as I have played out the last few minutes, although I know this line about the ‘love of his life’ will haunt me later.
“That’s good. I just wondered, especially when you started making threats about blistering my ass,” my belly spasms as I say this, “as if you have the right to do that.”
He gives the message some thought, then answers cryptically, “Knowing the kind of woman you are, I would still have no problem blistering your ass if your bad behavior warrants it. It would have nothing to do with a personal relationship, sex or anything else but punishing your foolishness.”
“What do you mean, ‘knowing the kind of woman I am’?” I can feel my ire rise again.
“Gee, I thought if we settled anything about you, Dana, it was that a good hard spanking is often the best way, the only way, to turn a ranting woman into a sane one.”
I should fly off the handle at this remark. At many times in my life, I would have. But I remain surprisingly cool—I’ll be pissed later.
“You know, if you’re going to be here, I should show you what needs to be done.” I smile.
We move about the office as I introduce him to all my failings with as few details as possible. I figure he’ll get the gist of the problem on his own. And if he asks Sally, she’ll give him an earful. I’m actually anxious to withdraw from the whole matter; that’s what Tyler wants; that’s what Benjamin wants; and if it weren’t for my pride, that’s what I want too. I’m sure Sally and the warehouse staff will be ecstatic to have the man back at the helm.
I allow myself to breathe a bit and my body warms, and some of the tightness in my chest and throbbing in my temples eases.
“You dress this way a lot?” he asks.
“I was actually going to call it ‘casual Friday’.”
He stares at me from head to toe. “It’s very you.”
“Thank you.”
“And I see you have a new master.”
“What?”
“Your wrists.”
I realize now that the bangles that have been jangling softly behind the day’s events couldn’t sufficiently hide the marks of my early morning bondage sex, not from a man who’d know what those indentations mean without having to spend a lot of time inspecting my wrists. Wouldn’t you know on this of all days, the truth would be so plainly evident.
A Master For A Desperate Slave Page 4