Calliope's Master

by Melinda Barron

  Except Silas. He would tell her the truth, she knew. Did she ask him now, or did she wait until she’d made a decision? If she asked him now, she could tell him she needed his answers to help form a decision. What would happen if she asked him later, after she’d decided she wanted to stay, and he told her things she didn’t want to hear?

  Fear shot through her, and she twitched. The plug inside her ass shifted, and she groaned. The truth was she was frightened of falling for him and then losing him. She couldn’t go through what she’d gone through the last year and a half again.

  She thought of Gloria, who had lost two husbands. How had she managed to bounce back so well? Maybe Calliope needed to talk with her.

  “You’re deep in thought.” Silas stroked the back of her hair, and she turned to look at him. She hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs. “Can you smell the pizza?”

  She sniffed. “It smells heavenly.”

  “It will be, even if I do say so myself. It should be close to done. Let’s go into the kitchen and eat.”

  She was hungry, for food and for information. She felt the need to ask some questions, but now was not the time. He helped her to stand, and she shuffled into the kitchen, wondering if she should ask after dinner and before the whipping, or afterward.

  Don’t push it. Best to just let it take its course. The right time will present itself for your questions, and you’ll know when that is.

  Silas sat in a chair, watching her intently as she washed the dishes. They’d eaten a very leisurely dinner, talking quite a lot about the hotel and the upcoming opening and how he was worried the ghost issue wouldn’t be solved.

  “I think Stacee’s going to figure it out,” she said as she swirled the water around. “Do you agree, Sir?”

  “Yes, I think she’ll help. I just hope it doesn’t take too long.”

  He still had the flogger attached to his belt, and despite the fact they’d just eaten, she wanted nothing more than to bend over the table and feel the hard bite of leather against her skin.

  “There’s something about watching a naked woman, with a fully-stuffed ass, doing the dishes in my kitchen. You make me hard, treat.”

  “Thank you, Sir Silas.”

  “You’re welcome.” He undid the flogger before he sat forward and twirled it in his hands. The strands swirled as his hands moved. “You still want this?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “How much?” Damn, her pussy was now as wet as the water her bound hands were in.

  “Very much, Sir.”

  He continued swirling the flogger. “Then hurry up.”

  She did as he asked, feeling as if she were a superhero as she moved around the kitchen. Before long it was spotless. She dried her hands, then knelt before him.

  “My delicious treat.”

  Now? Should she ask him the questions that swirled in her mind? Or would that ruin the mood?

  “Let’s go upstairs.” She trotted behind him as he walked. It was fine with her that the game plan had changed, that he wanted to flog her rather than relax in front of the TV.

  The first thing he did when they got upstairs was bend her over a spanking bench. He gently caressed both globes, then spread them. His deep groan let her know how much he enjoyed seeing the plug up her ass.

  He thumped on it, moved it around. Her insides tightened as he worked it out, worked it back in. Then, after a few minutes, he took it out totally.

  “Stay here.” She heard him walk, heard running water. And then he was back.

  “Up.” He tapped the flogger strands against her thighs. Then he pointed it toward the fucking machine. “Climb aboard.”

  Calliope stared at the device. She’d never used anything like it, or even seen one used. She held out her bound hands in supplication. “Are you going to untie me?”

  “No.” He inclined his head. “Go.”

  It was awkward, putting one leg over the bench. There was a leather cushion on the main board. She settled herself on it, and he tapped the flogger against her ass.

  “Settle your pussy at the end.” She scooted down as he asked. “Now lie down.”

  The bench wasn’t that wide, and it wasn’t very comfortable. Her trepidation lessened as he stroked her behind. Her nerves shot back up when he secured the ropes she wore to the floor, locking her in place.

  Her legs were spread wide, and her breasts hung down on either side of the seat, which was wider at the bottom than it was at the top. She could hear him working behind her, adjusting things.

  The flogger appeared in front of her lips. She kissed it before he asked, and he patted her head as if in reward.

  Then she felt the cold tip of a dildo at the opening to her pussy. She closed her eyes, letting the pleasure of it seep into her as he worked it inside her. Then it started to move. Fast. The sound of the machine whirling filled the room, and Calliope bit back a groan.

  It felt wonderful.

  “Make noise for me, treat.” He trailed the strands of the flogger up and down her back. “I want to hear the moans of pleasure, and the cries of your pain as the leather bites into your ass. I want to know you’re enjoying it.”

  Calliope started to groan and writhe against the artificial cock in her pussy. Silas was gently slapping the flogger against her ass, the strands kissing her more than biting. She wiggled and moved.

  And then he struck. The first slap of the leather was hard. The second hard. Calliope cried out as the sting spread through her. He slapped the leather against her ass again. And again. And again.

  So good. So good. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to float as the flogging grew more intense, the strikes coming down faster, harder.

  She could hear Silas, praising her for making so much noise, commanding her to move her hips more. The dildo inside her began to move faster, and Calliope felt the beginnings of a powerful orgasm build.

  “Sir Silas, may I come?”

  “You may not.”

  “Sir, please!” She screamed out as the leather hit her harder than ever.

  “I said no.”

  Pinpricks of painful pleasure roared through her. She had to come. She thrust back as far as her bonds would allow, and the flogger struck over and over. The air seemed to grow thinner as Calliope floated. She screamed and moaned as she moved. Damn, it felt so fucking good and --

  “Come.” She heard his command, let herself go. Her body tightened as the climax took over every inch of her body. She quivered from head to toe. The strands struck her ass, her lower back, and her thighs.

  Then they slowed, gentle leather kisses replacing the hard strikes.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “More, please.”

  The blows ended altogether. Her body still pulsed with energy. She could hear him moving around. What was he doing? There were noises, and then he threw his leg over her body. He pressed down on her sides and her ass moved up. The dildo slipped away from her.

  She could still hear the whirling noise of the machine when Silas’ cock slipped into her ass. She was open from wearing the plug all day, but there was still a burn as he settled himself inside her.

  And then he started to fuck, his cock moving in and out of her in a slow, easy rhythm.

  “Whose ass is this?”

  “Yours, Sir.”

  “That’s right.” He thrust hard. “Your whole body belongs to me, doesn’t it, treat?”

  “Yes, Sir Silas.” Her heart jolted. She belonged to him. He wanted her, wanted her to stay with him, serve him, be his. “Sir?”

  “Yes, treat?”

  He stopped moving, and her ass felt so deliciously full. She wanted to say she would stay, that she would never leave him. But something held her back. “Thank you, Sir, for this. It feels so…”

  “You’re welcome.” His weight pressed against her. Then the flogger was in front of her mouth. “Bite it.”

  She took it between her lips, and he patted her head like he had before, as a person pets their animal. �
�Good. Now hush while I fuck your sweet ass.”

  Calliope took a lens from her bag, attached it to her camera. She’d taken dozens of photographs at the cemetery during the last week, and she’d yet to capture anything except grass, dirt and gravestones.

  Stacee came with her most of the time, and they talked about their lives and the events happening right now. The ghost had made no appearances since Stacee had arrived, which Calliope thought was strange. She’d mentioned it before, and Stacee had assured her that she’d seen the spirit, but that she was still deciding what to do.

  “Taking her damn sweet time,” Calliope whispered to herself as she focused on the headstone of “Samuel Augs.” As soon as the shutter clicked, she let the camera drop, the strap around her neck holding it near her chest.

  Wasn’t that what she was doing, taking her own sweet time? True to his word, Silas had not asked her again about staying. But it was obvious that’s what he wanted. She’d grown very accustomed to being with him.

  She’d gone to his ball game, cheered his victory, and enjoyed meeting all his friends, who gushed about what a wonderful couple they were. The only thing missing was her telling him outright, like he’d asked. The words were hard to say, though.

  She had no problems doing the physical things. Every night she came into the house and stripped, and then he’d attach the ropes to her wrists and ankles. After the flogging night, he’d decided he’d loved seeing her bound that way, and she wore them every night, even in bed.

  The need to stay with him was strong, but there was still fear inside. How could she get over that panic?

  “You’re working hard.” Stacee’s voice startled her and she turned. “And you’ve attracted attention.”

  Calliope looked around. “I have?”

  “Yes, Matilda is at the end of the cemetery, watching you.”

  “Me?” Calliope glanced around again. She saw nothing. “Why me?”

  “I think she feels a kinship with you, with the pain you feel over your husband. It’s the same pain she feels over her children.”

  “Children? I thought she had only one.”

  Stacee shook her head. “She’s been showing me bits and pieces of it. I just had a long talk with Silas. He’s on the phone with his friend, Chuck, the deputy.”

  Calliope trained her camera on the spot Stacee had indicated. She clicked off several shots, then reviewed them. On the last one there was a faint image, the outline of a woman wearing dark clothing.

  “What has she told you?”

  “How her husband killed her children, because they had moles when they were born.”

  Calliope thought she would throw up. “Moles?”

  “Yes, thought to be witch’s marks at the time. Her husband accused her of sleeping with the devil. He killed their children, two of them, and buried them under the garden near their home.”

  “The building outlines.” Reality slapped her in the face. “That’s why Henry photographed her there.”

  “Exactly.” Stacee stepped toward her. “She’s been trying to protect them in death, like she was unable to in life.”

  Calliope couldn’t believe it. “How could a man kill his own children?”

  “Fear was rampant at the time. I’m sure her husband thought some witch hunter might think he was a representative of the devil and execute him too. He did what he did to save his own skin.”

  Asshole. “But how would he explain that his wife was pregnant and then not and there were no children?”

  “She didn’t tell me that, but stillbirths were not uncommon. He could have told people he buried the bodies to keep his wife from seeing them. He was a powerful man in the town, and remember women had no rights back then. She had to do as her husband said.” Stacee glanced at the ghost.

  A lump formed in Calliope’s throat. People might say that her relationships with Henry, and with Silas, were like that, that she had no rights. Those people didn’t know any better, though. At least she had a choice. Matilda had had no choice.

  “Catherine must have been born without moles.”

  “Yes.” Stacee sat down on the ground, cross-legged. “Silas thinks we should move the bodies to the cemetery. He thinks it might give Matilda some rest, but I don’t know. I proposed the idea to her, but she didn’t answer. I don’t know what will happen now. He’s checking the legalities with the deputy.”

  Was there a legal precedent for moving bodies that were illegally buried more than four hundred years ago? Calliope wasn’t sure. She didn’t think Chuck would know, either. It was a strange situation. “She needs to cross over, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, but she’s been here so long that she might want to stay. I can’t force her to go.” She patted the ground. “Come and sit by me.”

  Calliope sat, wondering what the medium had on her mind.

  “Silas loves you, very much.”

  Her heart thumped harder.

  “I know you’ve had a hard time, and I’m going to tell you what I tell every widow that comes to see me. Life is so short, and we never know when it’s going to end. Tell me how you would feel if you went home, abandoned what could be a beautiful relationship.”

  “Empty.” It was such an easy answer. She’d felt so alone when Henry had died, and she would feel vacant again if she left Silas.

  “Don’t allow it to happen. As trite as it sounds, it’s better to love with the possibility of loss, then to be alone. And if you go back to Colorado, that’s what you’ll be. Alone.”

  Damn, she was right. If she left this place without committing to Silas, she would leave Massachusetts for the second time with a hole in her heart. Could she allow that to happen?

  “I don’t know what to say to him.” She glanced at Stacee.

  “Tell him how you feel. Tell him something that will make him know you want to stay. I can’t give you the words; I can just push you and say that I can see it between the two of you, and it grows stronger every day.”

  “You should be a psychologist,” Calliope said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, if only it could work with the women I want to date.” They both laughed this time. “Go on. Take your cameras and go talk to him. Don’t let another minute go by without letting him know.”

  “Because life is short.” Calliope stood and gathered up her bag. A glance in the other direction made her gasp. She could see Matilda, floating there. She seemed to be smiling, as if she approved of what Calliope was about to do.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning to Stacee. “I appreciate you very much, and I hope we can be friends after I’ve… settled in here.”

  “I’d like that.” Stacee winked at her. “I’d like it even better if you were a lesbian, but we all have to deal with things. Now, go and kiss your man, and tell him you’ll stay in his arms. He’s waiting to hear it, whether he tells you or not.”

  Calliope hurried to the house. Work at the hotel was in full force, with people cleaning and getting it ready for the opening. She rushed past Nella, who asked her if she had preferences for dinner that evening.

  “Whatever is fine,” she said as she ran toward the elevator. Then she stopped. She didn’t know where she was going. “Is Silas in the office?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he’s in the house. He and Phillip were working on papers, but I think they stopped so they could talk to Stacee, and then they split up. Did you hear what she said to them?”

  “Yes, I did. I’ll be back later. I need to talk to Silas. It’s important.”

  “Then go.” Nella waved at her. “Good luck.”

  She felt as if her legs would give out before she made it to the house. She ran down the hallways, and when she was inside, she slammed the door. Silas came out of the bedroom, wiping his hands on a towel.

  “I thought you were working.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m listening.” He gave her an evil grin. “Even though you’re not naked, as I ordered you to be while you’re in this house.”<
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  She looked down. It took her a few moments to shed her clothing. She attached her ropes as he watched; then she knelt before him. “Silas, I… I… um…”

  “Just say it, Calliope. Total honesty, remember?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She cleared her throat, a sense of power infusing her. “Sir Silas, may I call you Master?”

  His eyebrows lifted slightly, and then the wicked smile on his face made her body tingle. She knew he read her words perfectly. He knew she wanted to stay with him.

  “Yes, my treat, you may.”

  One year later

  The hard wood of the St. Andrew’s cross bit into her back. Silas pressed the handle of the flogger into her clit.

  “Answer me!”

  “No, Master Sir, I didn’t mean it. Please.”

  “Please nothing.” He stalked away and sat in a chair. “Did you follow my orders, or not?”

  “No, Master Sir, I didn’t. Forgive me.”

  “I think not.” He tossed the flogger aside. “No pain for you tonight. Tell me why you disobeyed me.”

  “Because… I don’t know.” She looked away from him. “I just wanted to be with you tonight.”

  “On the day before our wedding?” He stood and moved toward her. “Is this how you’re going to be? Disobedient?”

  “No, Master Sir, I just missed you. Besides, it’s not midnight yet, so technically it’s not our wedding day yet. We can still see each other.”

  “Insolent treat.” He pinched her nipple. “Maybe I should leave you hanging here all night, have Nella release you in the morning.”

  “Whatever you wish, Master.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “Quite cheeky now that you’re a day away from becoming Mrs. Silas Hope, aren’t you?”

  “I am, Master.”

  He stepped onto the platform, pressed his clad body into her naked one. “Who are you?”