Calliope's Master

by Melinda Barron

  From time to time she heard him clean the razor under water, and then there was a warm cloth placed between her legs. Her pussy was now bare. He’d groomed her according to his specifications.

  “Good girl,” he whispered as he ran his finger up the seam of her lips. He pushed a finger inside and stroked her clit. If he’d done it a little harder, she might have climaxed. “I like this, all naked for me.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her eyes popped open. Had she just called him Sir?

  “You’re welcome, Calliope.” He continued to move the cloth over her skin. “I like playing with your plump pussy. Very soon I’ll claim it for my own.”

  Calliope moved her head up and down rapidly, resisting the urge to tell him to do it now, to fuck her despite the fact she was so sore. He used the rag to wipe his hands before tossing it in the sink. Then he picked up a mirror and held it between her legs.

  “Look.” She looked down at her newly naked skin. She hadn’t seen it this way in quite some time, and it was a little shocking. It also reminded her of Henry, and how he’d flick his finger over her and say, “What a good slut you are for keeping my pussy so bare.”

  “Thank you, Silas.”

  She saw the disappointment on his face that she hadn’t used a term of respect again, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Take a shower, then go into town. Call me when you’re headed back. You have my cell number, right?”

  She told him that she did, and he gave her directions to the historical society. “Tell Gloria I sent you. She’ll want to be helpful, I’m sure.”

  “I will.”

  He leaned over and gave her a gentle peck on the lips. Then he stroked his thumb over her cheek. “Be careful, and I’ll see you tonight. I’ll cook again.”

  She giggled, wanting to say she would cook, but knowing it would upset him since he took such pride in his cooking. He left the bathroom without saying anything else, and she sighed deeply as she ran her hand over her bare skin. Body modifications like this were the first real sign of ownership. She had some hard thinking to do this afternoon.

  “Freaking construction.” Calliope tapped her fingers on the wheel and glanced at the clock. Construction had slowed her traveling time. Traffic had been down to one lane at times, which meant she’d sat for a while. But it had given her a chance to think about this morning.

  Having Silas shave her pussy had been so intimate, so personal. It was unlike anything she’d ever done with Henry. When they’d started dating he’d told her he wanted her to shave her pussy, and he’d expected her to do it. He’d never offered to stand between her legs and take a razor to her most private parts.

  The morning experience made her wonder how else Henry and Silas were different. What could she expect from him if she went into a D/s relationship with him? She could tell him what she was used to, let him know that’s what she expected. She hadn’t done it with Henry, but then again, she’d had absolutely no experience at the time. Now, she knew the ins and outs, and what got her off.

  Maybe it would help things out if she told him that. Or would it piss him off? Would he think she was trying to control things too much?

  “What does this have to be so fucking hard?” The traffic started to move again, and when she got to the intersection, she saw that it wasn’t only the construction that had halted traffic, but an accident that authorities were still clearing up.

  She followed the directions from the GPS unit as she thought about what she would say to Silas tonight.

  So, I like whipping, which we’ve already established, but I’m not really big on bondage. A little rope is okay, but not all the time.

  That didn’t sound good, since he’d already mentioned that he wanted to bind her breasts. She’d have to approach it delicately.

  And I don’t want to suck any cock but yours.

  That had been Henry’s thing. It wasn’t something she hated, but it wasn’t something she wanted to get into again, if at all possible.

  Also, I’d like to wear clothes at the house. Sometimes it gets cold. And then there’s…

  The mechanical GPS voice admonished her for missing a turn. She went down a block and turned left, then circled the block to come back to her destination—an old house with a very discreet sign in front of it. She parked next to an older SUV and then went into the building.

  The door jingled as she entered, and a woman looked up from a desk.

  “Hi.” She stood and offered her hand. “Gloria Oakes. Welcome.”

  “Thanks. I’m Calliope Ingalls, a friend of Silas Hope. I’m here to look at cemetery records.” She examined the woman that Chuck had termed, “hot.” She was short and plump, with long, blonde hair. Calliope guessed her to be in her early forties. She had bright blue eyes that flashed with humor as she talked, and a smile that would brighten a dark room.

  “Oh yeah,” the woman replied. “Abigail told me he had a friend staying with him. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  The woman was definitely perky. And how could she go about tactfully saying she was at Augstown as an employee, and not as Silas’ girlfriend? “Abigail?”

  “His mother. I take it you haven’t met her yet.”

  “No, not yet.” Hopefully not for a while. “I’ve just been in town for a few days.”

  “This is your second trip, though, right?”

  “Yes.” And I’d rather not talk about the first one. “Silas said you might have some burial records for Augstown.”

  “Actually, I do. I went through a lot of things when I started and found out my predecessor didn’t exactly keep things tidy, if you know what I mean. I found a few items Silas might be interested in. I was going to call him, but I never quite got around to it.”

  She stepped out from behind the desk. “Come on, I’ll show you a place you can do some research.”

  “Thank you.” Calliope followed her down a hallway that opened into a dark room, with coverings over the many windows.

  “The natural light hurts the old paper,” Gloria said. “I’m going to give you gloves and ask that you not touch any pages with your bare hands. If you want copies, I’ll make them for you.”

  “Sounds good.” Calliope placed her camera bag on the wooden table. She wished she’d taken the time to download the photos of the gravesites, but she’d been so—distracted—that she hadn’t thought about it before she’d left. She took out the camera and called the shots up on the LED screen. Even at the maximum zoom she couldn’t read the names, which meant she needed to copy all the burial records Gloria could give her.

  She relayed her request to the woman, who responded with a bright, “Sounds good.”

  Gloria picked up two old books and used them to indicate a chair. “You have a seat, and we’ll chat while I make your copies.”

  “I hate for you to have to do all the work.”

  “It’s no problem. That’s what I get paid for.” She turned on the machine and then glanced back at Calliope. “Abigail tells me you’re a widow. How old was your husband when he died?”

  Calliope swallowed back the shock at being asked such a personal question by someone who was a complete stranger.

  “He was thirty-four,” she said, her voice very soft.

  “So young. My first husband died a year after we were married. Car accident. My second husband had a heart attack about six months ago. It’s so sad.”

  Calliope couldn’t imagine losing two husbands to death. Losing Henry had almost killed her.

  “Of course, you pick yourself up and move on, right?” Gloria gave her a sad smile. “I miss them both, but the memories are so good. The worst part is about six months after, when you realize it’s real. Then you tell yourself it’s time to get out there and live again.”

  Do you? Exactly how did you do that? I’m still having trouble with it. Calliope gave her a tight smile in response. Gloria didn’t seem to notice. The copier whirled as she pressed buttons and copied pages.

  “You know, when my fir
st husband died I was so young, a little over twenty. It was my mother who told me I had to get out there again. She reminded me that a person could love more than once. It’s hard to think of it, but when I met Luke I realized that you love differently, you know? Of course, you’ve already figured that out.”

  She lifted the book from the machine and turned a page. “I remember the first man I slept with after Vaughn, my first husband, died. I cried, and he thought I was crazy. It was then that my mother said, ‘Gloria, lovers are like snowflakes—no two are the same’. That taught me that you love everyone differently, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you feel.”

  Lovers are like snowflakes. “What an intriguing concept.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  Calliope sat up a little straighter. She must have muttered her thought out loud. “I was just thinking about what you said, that’s all.” And I was thinking about the fact that my feelings for Silas didn’t have to exactly mirror the feelings I had for Henry, the first, and so far, only, man I’ve ever loved.

  “Silas is such a hunk,” Gloria said as she flipped the pages on the book. “I tell you, if I was a little younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

  A giggle escaped before Calliope could stop it. She was tempted to tell the woman she should be looking at Deputy Chuck, who thought she was “hot.”

  “What’s so funny? I’m too old to compete with you?”

  “No, I just was thinking about…” A ringing phone saved her from completing the sentence. Gloria gave her an odd look as she pulled off her glove and took a cell phone from her pocket.

  She answered brightly, then gasped. “Abigail! How strange you should call right now. I’m talking to Calliope.” There was a pause. “That’s right, that Calliope. Okay. Okay. Okay. See you in a few.”

  Gloria flipped her phone shut, then winked at Calliope. “Abigail’s going to bring us an afternoon snack, some coffee and pastry. I need to get all this done so we can sit and chat.”

  She turned back to the copier at the same time Calliope’s stomach jumped out of her throat and fell to the floor.

  Chapter 8

  “Pick up… pick up… pick up.” Calliope glanced through the door, wondering when Abigail Hope would come in. Gloria had finished making her copies. She’d handed them to her, then shown Calliope to a small room with a tiny refrigerator, a coffee pot, and a microwave. After a chipper “be right back,” she’d left.

  And Calliope had tried to call Silas twice now. The first time had gone to voice mail, and she’d left a frantic message. This call was on the second ring. She was about to hang up when he said, “Hey, Calliope, I’m here.”

  Relief flooded her as she looked to make sure no one was listening. “Your mother’s here.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you get my message?”

  “No. I’ve been driving. I had to bring the damaged stones into town. We can meet for dinner.”

  “Your mother is coming here, to bring coffee and meet me. What should I do?”

  “Ask for sugar and cream?”

  “Silas! This isn’t funny.”

  His chuckle unnerved her, and she thought about throwing the phone across the room, but all that would do was break the phone. “Silas, I barely talk to my own mother. I have no idea what to say to yours.”

  “Okay.” His voice had taken on a soothing tone. “Relax, take a few deep breaths. I’m going to run my errand, then I’ll come by.”

  “No, come now. Please.”

  “Hush. You’re letting your nerves get the best of you. If this were our first whipping, and you were nervous, what would you do to calm down?”

  What the hell? Was he losing his mind?

  “Answer me, right this minute.” There was that rough, demanding tone she loved so much.

  “I’d take deep breaths, try and center myself.”

  “That’s right, and that’s what you’re going to do now.” There was a short pause. “Imagine that you’re over my knee about to get a spanking, a hard one, with a crop, or even a cane. You’re focusing your mind on what’s about to happen, you’re relaxing because, if you don’t, the tension will make the spanking more painful. That’s what you do now. She’s just a person, Calliope. You may not have much experience with mothers, but you can talk to people. If she tries to grill you, answer her with sarcasm. I think I’ve heard a zinger or two come out of your mouth. She’ll love it. Do you understand me?”

  “But…”

  “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She wanted him here; she needed him here.

  “Remember, we’re adults. If we fuck, it’s because we want to, and we have the right to. Now, when I’m done with my errand, I’ll come by. Until then, you can take care of yourself. I promise you that you’re capable of handling my mother.”

  Right. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Calliope, do this, and we’ll forget the ‘I can’t’ agreement we had. Your ass will be nice and red and have some very pretty welts on it when we go to bed tonight, as a reward for standing up to your fears.”

  She heard the tinkling sound of the outside door opening. “She’s here, Sir.”

  “Do you realize that’s the fourth time you’ve called me Sir in the last minute? I like it. It makes my dick hard.”

  She giggled nervously, not sure what to say. Then she heard the click of high heels coming down the hallway. “She’s coming this way.”

  “You can handle it. I’ll be there shortly.” She clicked the phone shut and focused her gaze on the doorway. In seconds, a tall, slender woman appeared. She wore a skirt and button-down shirt with a string of pearls completing the ensemble.

  “Well, hello.” She held out her hand and started to walk across the room. “I’m Abigail.”

  “Calliope.” The two women shook hands.

  “Of course, you are. For a month now, you’re all I’ve heard of from my son. He was thrilled that you were coming to take photos. But of course, I could tell his interest was in more than photographs, and now I can see why. You’re very lovely.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that, Mrs. Hope.”

  “Oh, stop that. You’re sleeping with my son, so I think you should call me Abigail, don’t you?”

  Oh crap. If she said Abigail, it would confirm her statement. Her obvious attempt at seeking information shouldn’t have shocked her, given what Silas had said, but it did. We’re adults, not kids. Silas’ words echoed in her mind.

  “You can reel in the big one, Abigail. You caught me, hook, line, and sinker. Consider your fishing trip a success.”

  The older woman blushed ever so slightly, then laughed. “You’re very smart too. Yes, I can see why Silas is attracted to you. An unintelligent woman would leave him cold. It’s terrible of me to try to press information out of you when we’ve barely met. Forgive me. But I’m sure Silas warned you that I ask too many questions.”

  “He might have mentioned it.” Once or twice.

  “Of course, he did.” She indicated the chair. “Let’s sit. Gloria wanted to give us the chance to talk, so she’s staying in the other room for a few minutes. She’s a widow also; did she tell you?”

  “Yes.” Calliope wanted to add that she’d talked more to these two women in the last half hour than she’d talked to people for most of the last year. Instead, she just sat in the chair. “Coffee would be nice.”

  “Oh yes, I brought some, and I have some cinnamon buns from the bakery around the corner. The young woman there makes the most delightful food.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Calliope looked at the door. She prayed that Gloria would feel her desire for more company and come strolling through, tray of food and drinks in hand.

  “There are so many questions I want to ask you, but Silas would be angry with me afterward, and I really should respect his privacy more. But I hope I can talk the two of you into coming for dinner this Saturday. Jim loves to grill, and the weather is supposed to be perfect
for it.”

  “I’ll have to ask Silas.” God, that sounded so coupleish. “Will you ask your questions then?”

  “Maybe. If my son doesn’t stop me.” Abigail flashed a brilliant smile, and Calliope could see how patients would open up to her. She was overbearing, but still exuded warmth. Even with the case of nerves Calliope had experienced earlier, she was feeling more and more at ease. “Gloria, come join us.”

  Gloria looked sheepish as she placed the cardboard container with drinks on the table. She sat down and opened a pastry box that she held in her other hand. The spicy smell of cinnamon filtered out, and Calliope sniffed in appreciation. She took a cup of coffee, then reached inside the box at Gloria’s request and took out a roll.

  She was eating and listening to Gloria and Abigail discuss the problem with a neighbor’s dog when the outside door chimed.

  “That’s probably Silas,” she said after she’d swallowed. “He was in town.”

  “Did you call him as a reinforcement?” Abigail winked at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask the more personal questions until you come for dinner on Saturday.”

  “Saturday?” Silas strode into the room. He leaned over and gave his mother a hug, patted Gloria on the shoulder as he walked by, then sat in the chair next to Calliope. He bent and gave her a kiss—one that definitely showed there was something between them. The look he gave her as the kiss broke warmed her insides. “What’s this about Saturday, Mother?”

  He reached into the box and took out a roll. His mother repeated the dinner invitation, but he shook his head. “We’ve already got plans for Saturday.” Calliope hoped she didn’t look shocked at the information. What were they doing on Saturday? “But we can do Sunday.”

  “Perfect.” Abigail stood. “I need to get back to work. Gloria, you come to dinner too and bring a friend. Calliope, it was wonderful to meet you. Thanks for biting back at me. I appreciate it.”

  “Biting back?” Silas gave her an inquiring glance.

  “I’ll tell you later.” She lifted the stack of papers. “See what Gloria found for us?”