by Hannah Ford
“Never, sir. I will do better, sir.”
“A car will pick you up outside your apartment in fourteen minutes. Wear a cocktail dress. And nothing underneath it.”
“Yes, sir.” She was excited, she was over the moon—and devastatingly moist.
The line went dead.
She checked the time. “Oh my god,” she whispered. It was 3:18 in the morning. But she didn’t have time to worry about the lateness (or earliness) of his call. She had to get ready in short order.
So she jumped out of bed and ran to her closet. Luckily she had a cute little dress that would fit the bill, dark and sheer, it hugged close to her body, showing her curves in a very flattering way that few of her outfits did. She’d only worn it once previously, and a lot of her friends had remarked on it.
Nicole stripped down and slid the dress on, marveling at how intoxicated she felt from just the few moments they’d spent talking just now. It was like she was on speed or coke or ecstasy (none of which she’d ever done—only what she’d imagined them to be like).
He hadn’t mentioned shoes, but to be safe she put on her dark Prada heels.
Then she ran to the bathroom, looking both ways first to make sure Danielle wasn’t nosing around. Brushed her teeth, put on deodorant, splashed water on her face—no time for makeup unfortunately.
Being late for this appointment was simply not an option. She envisioned him driving by, stopping for the briefest of instances, and then simply driving off if she wasn’t curbside when he arrived.
Not two minutes later, Nicole was downstairs and out front, standing alone in the darkness of her street. Nobody was around. The only light came from the moon and the few streetlights nearby.
It was creepy and the air was chill. With no coat on, she was shivering, hugging herself for warmth.
And then a sleek black town car turned onto her street and slowly, smoothly came to a halt in front of her. Nobody got out. The windows were tinted so that she could not see inside. There was no sign of Red—this could be anybody. She could get in the wrong car and end up raped and murdered and left in a dumpster.
These things happened in the big city.
But despite the danger, Nicole opened the door and got inside.
Red wasn’t in the car. The driver was a short, dapper, middle-aged man wearing a suit coat and driving cap. He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Miss Masters?”
Relieved, she smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Relax,” he said, “we’ll be there shortly.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Our destination.” He started to pull away from the curb and she still had the door ajar, so she closed it and sat back, watching the scenery go by—at first slowly, then more quickly as the town car picked up speed.
Before long, she no longer knew where they were going. The driver went up one street and then the next, and soon they were in neighborhoods that looked increasingly dingy and run down. Not what she would have expected from Red.
Where are we going?
About twenty minutes later, the car pulled over to the curb again. Across the street was a 24-hour convenience store that seemed popular. It appeared to be frequented by black and Hispanic customers mostly.
About a block away, five or six women dressed in next to nothing yelled out to one another, called to cars as they drove by. One car stopped and a woman in a skirt that showed almost all of her ass, bent over and consulted with one stopped vehicle before getting in the passenger side.
Hookers. They weren’t the first she’d seen since arriving in town.
But still—she was surprised by the choice of location. What could he have in store for her?
Nicole took a deep breath and got out of the car, telling herself she was safe. She was under Red’s protection. He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her.
As soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk, the town car pulled away and disappeared. She hugged herself and turned in a circle, looking for Red. Nothing.
Now she was getting afraid, and a little angry too.
“Hey, baby, nice ass.” The voice came from startlingly close. She turned to see a short but stocky Hispanic man looking at her from the stoop of a nearby apartment building. He stood up, his blue jeans hanging low, his Nets jersey revealing well-muscled arms and too many tattoos to count. “You from around here, honey?”
She looked again for Red. Panic was rising in her throat.
“Hey, honey, you got a hearing problem?”
She started to walk away from him.
“Baby. Wait.”
He was coming closer. She didn’t want to run but she would if she had to. She’d scream.
Suddenly his hand grabbed her bicep and squeezed. “I said wait. What’s your problem? You one of them stuck up bitches from uptown?”
“Leave. Me. Alone.” She hissed the words.
He smiled. “I like that talk,” he said through grit teeth. His eyes were deadly cold and cruel. “I like bitches who talk back,” he said, “because it’s that much more fun when I bust a nut in their fucking faces.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Oh yeah? It will if I say so, mama.”
He gripped her arm tighter and she winced. “You’re hurting me.”
“So?”
“So let her go,” a deep voice said from the shadows. The man glanced over at the voice that came from the darkness beneath a nearby awning.
“Who the fuck are you?” the little man asked.
Red stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing dark pants and a dark shirt rolled up to the elbows. He looked more casual, though still rich and stylish and perfect. But his face was a mask of anger. And he was a big man. “I’m the person telling you to let the lady go.”
The man released his grip on her. “I was just playing.”
“Sure you were.”
“She come to this neighborhood dressed like that, she’s asking to have a pimp shoot some game. You know that.”
“Shut up.” Red walked close and took her gently by the arm. “Come.”
She turned and together they walked a pace or two.
“Sorry about that, man,” the little Hispanic guy said.
Red paused, then spun and walked back to him. Suddenly the man was on the sidewalk, laid out. His face was a mask of blood. Red had hit him, quickly and with tremendous force, hit him square in the nose. It had been so fast that Nicole could barely even process it.
The man was dazed. His eyes were glazed and unfocused and he was trying to speak but it came out garbled. One of the hookers from down the block came running over, shouting something in Spanish.
Red had already come back to Nicole’s side and guided her to the door beneath the awning. He unlocked the door and led her inside.
The door clicked shut behind them and now they were in a dim, grim hallway. He continued to lead her, this time up one flight of stairs to a door marked 25. He unlocked it and escorted her inside.
The apartment was surprisingly large and comfortable. Not nearly as ostentatious as his office, the living room was decorated with dark, modern furniture and modern art hung on the walls. Strangely, there was no television. The kitchen seemed bare and unused. There was a door that presumably led to the bedroom, but it was closed.
Red glanced at her body appraisingly. “You dressed exactly as I asked,” he said.
Nicole was still in shock from what she’d experienced outside. “I don’t appreciate being put in danger. Sir.”
He nodded and walked to the kitchen. “Water? I’m afraid it’s all we have here.”
“Fine, sir.”
He smiled but she could see he was growing annoyed with her insolent attitude. Still, she was too upset and frightened to want to please him. She didn’t mind playing his twisted games, but not if she was going to be raped and murdered because of it.
“Let’s relax for a moment,” he said, filling the glass and bringing it to her. His eyes met hers and she felt her w
illpower drain under his gaze.
She was tremendously happy, wasn’t she? Despite the danger, she reminded herself that she’d wanted nothing but this moment—had been aching for it badly. Don’t spoil it now, she told herself.
“I’m sorry for being upset, sir,” she said, after drinking some cold water.
“Have a seat,” he told her, and she did. The dress was short and revealing of her creamy white thighs.
Red took the view in as she crossed her legs, then he moved behind her as she sat on the couch. He reached down and began slowly massaging her tight shoulders. The feeling as he did so was like nothing she could recall. It was as if he was melting her, melting her with nothing but the subtlety of his touch.
His hands knew her inside and out.
“Oh…sir…that feels so amazing,” she whispered as his hands slid over her shoulders, slowly pulling the straps of her dress down so that he could access all of her bare skin. The slack created enough of a gap in the top of her dress that most of her breasts were now revealed as well.
She could hear his breathing, deep and excited as he continued to work the muscles in her shoulders.
Her slick mound was swollen, ready for his touch. The fabric of her dress was rubbing against her bare pussy, so close to the surface—all it would take was one quick tug and her dress could be hiked up to her hips.
She could cum right now if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to seem so cheap and easy. Red wouldn’t respect her if she lost control with such little effort on his part.
And so she ground her teeth together and kept herself from releasing the energy building in her lower anatomy.
But she was so, so wet. Dripping wet.
“Your skin is like alabaster,” he said. “I’ve never felt anything like it.” And then he stopped. His hands withdrew from her body, leaving her cold and lonely.
“Thank you sir,” she whispered, desperately wanting to ask him for more.
Could we go lay together in your bed—just for a little while?
Nicole knew better than to ask.
“Feeling better now?” he said, smiling at her, as if he knew the effect he’d had on her.
“Yes, much better, sir.”
“And the essay?” He held out his hand for it.
“It’s not very good, sir.”
He swatted her negative response away, irritated, and waited with his hand outstretched for her essay.
Nervously she dug in her purse, finding the folded pieces of paper, withdrew them and handed them over. They looked silly now, like a teenager’s classroom homework. He’d surely wanted it printed out from a computer, hadn’t he? Why had she decided to do the essay longhand?
She wanted to bury her face in her hands and scream.
Red took her pages and walked to the chair opposite the couch, sat down and began reading. His face was expressionless but intent. It took him a long time, what seemed like forever to finish, and Nicole had to sit there and be still while she waited for his judgment.
Her stomach was in knots.
Finally he was done. He took one last glance at her essay and then folded it in half and set it on the glass coffee table. His expression was unreadable.
“I know it was a mess,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure what you wanted, sir.”
“Stand up,” he commanded. His whole demeanor had changed.
She immediately stood, her blood pressure rising instantly. He looked her up and down, boldly taking in ever detail with his eyes. Her nipples stiffened and she could feel them poke through her sheer dress.
“You have a beautiful body,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I can see so much of it without your bra and panties on. Do you like that?”
“Yes, sir, I do.” A tremble ran through her legs.
“Turn around so I can look at your ass.”
She did. She could feel his eyes on her.
“You have a nice tight ass,” he said. “I like the way it curves, the slope of it. Would you enjoy being spanked?”
“I think so, sir.”
“Never been?”
“Spanked?” she asked.
He waited without speaking for her answer.
“I’ve never been spanked, sir,” she replied.
She heard him rise from the chair and then the squeak of his shoes against the floor. He was slowly approaching. Soon she could feel his body heat behind her, he was very close now. “Your essay was good, Nicole.”
“Thank you sir,” she said, gratified and surprised that he liked it.
“But that was just something you wrote.”
“I meant every word, sir.”
“Tonight, you came in here with a bad attitude.”
“I was frightened sir, I apologize.”
“That’s no excuse for being disrespectful, Nicole. Now bend over and grasp the couch with your hands.”
She knew what was coming and her entire body trembled with anticipation—both fear and longing. She leaned forward and her hands grabbed the top of the couch. The hem of her dress pulled up to the very top of her thighs.
“Spread your legs further apart now.”
She stood with her legs further apart, and her dress moved upwards again. She could feel the air on her butt now. Red Jameson was seeing her ass.
He maneuvered himself so that he was slightly at an angle to her, and one of his strong hands gripped her shoulder. “Your insolence requires punishment,” he said tightly.
She felt a sting as his other hand came down and slapped her buttocks. Her ass cheeks bounced with the force of it. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll do better.”
“Yes, you will.”
Another hard slap. The sound echoed in the apartment. Her pussy vibrated from the pressure. She was getting excited.
“I think your bottom needs to be fully bare.”
He slowly, ever so slowly, pulled her dress up over the curve of her ass. Now her butt was totally in his view. She could hear his excited breathing, but other than that he was silent.
Next, there was another crack of his hand against her naked butt.
She cried out, mostly in pleasure. This seemed to goad him to spank her more fervently. Soon he was paddling her butt with his hand.
The slaps were firm and strong, but the pain wasn’t very intense. Nicole was enjoying it much more than she would have imagined. It was intimate, she felt completely connected to Red, and trusting that he wouldn’t do anything to truly hurt her. She moaned as he beat her buttocks.
Finally, he seemed to relent.
“Pull your dress down, cover yourself,” he whispered huskily, moving away.
She did as he said. Her cunt was dripping down her legs and she wanted nothing more than his hand on her bare mound. If he so much as grazed it, she’d have gone off like a fire alarm.
But he wasn’t touching her anymore.
She glanced back at him and saw that he was studying her. His eyes were so hungry, she knew that he wanted her badly, perhaps as much as she wanted him.
Then why doesn’t he just take me?
She didn’t know the answer—she only knew that this was part of his seduction. He was a man, a patient and deliberate man, not some overeager boy who wanted to fumble around in the backseat of a car and then cum all over her hand after some petting and groping.
“Come with me,” he said firmly. He walked toward the bedroom door.
She followed him. The door was actually locked from the outside, which sent a chill up her spine. She reminded herself that she trusted him totally.
Why do I trust him? I don’t even really know him.
“What are you doing to me?” she said, before he could unlock the door.
He turned to her, surprised. “If you don’t know, then perhaps you should leave.” He was displeased.
“I should be allowed to ask.”
“You shouldn’t forget your manners.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry, sir, I j
ust—“
“You just nothing,” he said, and although his voice was controlled, she sensed how angry he was.
“I’m afraid, sir.”
“I don’t care.”
Now it was her turn to be angry. She looked up into his eyes. “Who do you think you are? You think just because you have money and a bit of fame you can treat people like dirt? Like toys to do with whatever you please?”
“Yes.” He smiled at her.
“I’m not your toy. I’m a person.”
“You’re whatever I tell you to be.”
“Fuck you.”
He broke into a wide smile and laughed. “Fuck me?”
“That’s right.” She tilted her chin up, daring him.
“Of course you want to fuck me,” he said softly.
Her face went red with embarrassment. He’d taken her insult and ferreted out the truth of it. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted it so badly, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. And somehow she’d thought that by turning the tables, maybe he’d do it. Maybe she could enrage him into a frenetic passion and he’d make love to her right here and now.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she muttered.
“Do you want to stop? You’re free to go at any time.”
She sighed. “I want to be with you.”
“Then do as I say.”
Head bowed, she nodded submissively. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry for my rudeness, sir.”
“Again,” he growled. “You don’t learn very easily, do you?” And he swung the door open to the bedroom. Only it wasn’t a real bedroom.
Everything inside was black. Leather. He led her into the black room. There was a bed with four posts. Hanging from each post were a variety of chains, scarves and handcuffs.
There were four long, thick chains hanging from the ceiling as well.
In the corner of the room was something that resembled a pommel horse from gym class. And in the other corner of the room was a menacing black trunk.
“What do you think of it?” he asked her, like he was showing her a new car.
“It’s…impressive…sir.”
“It’s a room of delights,” he said. “You’ll see for yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
He shut the door behind them and faced her. “You’ve been rude to me, again. This calls for stronger punishment.”