I should have behaved myself and obeyed my master. Fucking Roddy or anyone else should have been the last thing in my thoughts. But I lost all power of self-control. I was gone in a heartbeat, getting fucked hard and coming like I hadn’t come in months. At the moment, I climax with rough earth-shattering spasms, I couldn’t care less about Preston Lockhart and his rules. And yet, just moments later, as Roddy pulled dripping from my cunt, and my body languished in the afterglow, I struggled with my shame. Why was I so stupid to fall for this easy screw?
I must have known then that my lapse in judgment would mean disaster. But my only thought as I came to my feet, cum oozing down my leg, was how fast I could get back to my cubicle and think through the damage I’d done. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of time.
“Roddy, take your hands off Miss Sinclair, and get your cock back in your pants.” Preston’s voice landed between us, like an unexploded bomb was suddenly ticking in our midst, calmly, patiently and surreal. My heart plummeted like a wounded bird.
I turned toward the door. Roddy turned too, and got hold of his wits. He scrambled so fast to stuff his cock back in his jeans that he caught his pubic hair in his zipper. “Yeeouch!” He came out of it grinning, shrugging off the awkward moment, “Hey, man, it was just a quickie.”
“I’m sure it was—in the company tech room on company time,” he reminded us both. “Miss Sinclair, I’ll see you in my office, once you’re put back together.” He turned away before I could reply, and we listened in silence as his shoes clicked on the Formica, the door opened at the top of the staircase, and then closed with a gentle swoosh behind him.
“Sorry, babe, I guess we took one too many chances.”
“You’re right about that.” I was reaching for Kleenex on the back of his desk to wipe the cum from my legs. “Of all the people…” I muttered.
“He someone special?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I sighed, being afraid to say too much.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were with him.”
“It’s not exactly that.”
“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure as hell sorry.”
“Sorry, why? We had a good time.” I patted him on the cheek and smiled.
“But you’re covering up.”
“Maybe. But I still enjoyed myself.”
“Sure. But he’ll read you the riot act. You want me to go with you? It’s as much my fault as yours.”
“No, no. I can handle Preston Lockhart,” I said starting for the stairs.
“Damn!” He shook his head, “I hear everyone who comes down here. Why didn’t I hear him?”
I looked back over my shoulder, “Maybe because you weren’t meant to.”
Roddy cocked his head and looked at me with one fixed eye, puzzled.
I left not saying more, leaving him to figure it out. He never would.
Chapter Eleven
I arrived at Preston’s office in time to watch him shuffle through a pile of papers on his desk, sorting in silence. I figured that he was angry, fuming, so mad he didn’t know what to say and was simply calming himself. But, it didn’t feel that way. I’d been the benefactor of his anger before, and this was so completely passionless that it seemed eerie. Of course, I wanted him to address the “fucking issue” immediately. Get it out of the way, absolve my guilt and pay my penance. If he was going to send me packing, I wanted to know that too. I wanted answers, although I certainly wasn’t going to demand them. Maybe I could still salvage something from the awful mess I’d made. But as I watched him while suffering in the dreadful silence, I was doubtful I could ever redeem myself.
When he finally looked up, his face was as placid as usual, and typically cool, but no more so than normal.
“Tomorrow, Skye, you’ll be accompanying me on a project. The real estate development at Crystal Shores.”
I remembered the account, one of Joel’s, if I was correct. “You need a research assistant there?”
“I need you there.”
“And there’s where you’ll punish me?” I speculated aloud. My anxiety was just not content to wait for him to make a move on the matter of his recent discovery. But my question was another mistake.
“Where I choose to punish you, if I punish you, is my business. I need you at Crystal Shores to take accurate notes. You’re better than any of the office assistants at detail, so you get the nod. We’ll leave here by nine.”
“Yes, sir.”
I had no illusions about the day ahead. Preston wouldn’t let the matter of my screwing Roddy in the basement go unaddressed. He was just waiting for the perfect time. I had little doubt the development site would prove the right place to make me pay for my dim-witted blunder, but things certainly didn’t play out the way I imagined.
Preston drove his Audi to the jobsite, with me sitting next to him.
“Ass on the leather,” was the only instruction he gave me, and I quickly obeyed, letting the feel of leather on my bare behind pleasantly work its way through my crotch. It may be the only pleasant thing I would feel all day.
The drive was uneventful, just a pleasant ride in the country. It was a good twenty miles to the suburban housing development, a very upscale wooded setting of two-story houses under various stages of construction situated at generous intervals along a hilly terrain. Strangely, the scene was vacant of construction workers, obscenely silent when we arrived. As I looked into the partially complete houses, I didn’t see a soul.
“Day off?” I asked absently.
“There’s been some problems with financing the development and the construction has been briefly suspended.”
“Too bad. It’s beautiful.”
“Just a temporary glitch, I’m sure. That’s why Lloyd & Lockhart was hired.”
“Sell the sizzle. There’s lots of it.”
“I’m sure Joel has that angle well in hand.”
“Just look at that one,” I pointed to a house on an approaching rise, surrounded by trees, looking stately, even forbidding. The exterior was nearly complete, combining stone and siding in the current style, a many-gabled roof and large expanses of windows. Looking beyond the panes of glass, I could see that the inside walls were still missing, leaving a cobweb of bare framing. “What an amazing house!”
When Preston drove into the unpaved driveway of this particular house, I wondered if he’d read my mind. Strangely, the structure stood out from all the rest, which were presently bathed in sunshine. Over this one, a dark cloud hung like an omen, lending a spooky feel to the atmosphere, a certain mischief, an elegant mystery, enough to tickle the hairs on the back of my neck. Pulling as far as he dared onto the bare dirt, Preston parked the car carefully, making sure that he wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. It had rained two nights before, and the ground was soft.
Although the day was warm and sunny, cheery even for early spring, a foreboding feeling of gloom gnawed at me, as eerie as the empty jobsite. I remained intrigued. As we stepped from the car, I heard a hammer in the distance; had work suddenly started up again? But it fell silent, as if someone had ripped it from the worker’s hand. I shivered a little and moved forward, following Preston as he gingerly made his way to the front step. There, he pulled a key from his pants pockets and opened the door.
“Perfect,” he exclaimed on entering. I’m not sure what was ‘perfect’ about this house over the others, but I let his comment slide. After all, I’d chosen this house too for reasons I couldn’t figure out.
Except for that tiny instruction at the beginning of our ride, Preston had not made reference to our sexual relationship for the entire half hour. He gave me the impression that this trip was exactly what he described, a fact finding mission that would require my talent for observation and detail. I believed he was telling the truth, even when my gut kept shouting to me otherwise.
As I strolled inside the half-finished house, gazing into the rafters above, my mind tried picturing the finished house. I’d always been fascinated by styl
e and form. And though I’d never want a home as ostentatious as this one would become, I could play with it in fantasy, like a child playing pretend.
“Skye.” His voice wasn’t unexpected as it lifted me out of my reverie.
“Nice place,” I said turning around. “At least I think it will be.” I smiled.
“No doubt,” he agreed, looking about the studs for a second. Then he looked back at me, while my own eyes were unexpectedly fixed on him. An intense shiver rose up through my body causing it to quake. The feeling fled in a second, but it left its message.
A breathtaking silence descended around us, as we stood frozen in place apparently unable to move forward. But then I broke the spell, having come to the obvious conclusion, “You are going to punish me, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I’m going to punish you, Skye,” he answered calmly, almost like a reprimanding father. “What did you expect? My only concern is how to deal with the mountain of offenses you’ve committed in the last forty-eight hours. It’s one thing to punish matters of civility with stern lectures and a good paddling on your ass; there’s no good explanation for your behavior in boardroom, except jealousy and spite. But then you complicate matters, disobeying the basic rule that makes our agreement work. Fucking Roddy Morgan in the company basement is not only a breach in company policy and a slap in the face of decency, for which you’ve been warned, it goes against the premise of what you and I are about.”
I knew that.
Assuming he wanted to make me feel six inches tall, he certainly did a fine job. He couldn’t have spelled out my crimes better, or tapped into my guilty feelings more effectively. I really wanted to cry and plead with him; my desperation was that great. But instead of going meek and humble, I did what I often do when faced with a tricky situation, wherein I feel the need for self-defense: I spit out the first thought that pops into my brain, regardless of the fact that it sounds like an attack.
“You mean you find fucking in the company basement a slap in the face of decency worse than the things you make me do every time it suits your sick, horny fantasy?” His logic seemed a little quirky and I just had to point that out. In the instant, my question seemed justified, even though I regretted it as soon as I said the words.
I think he handled it well. I expect he just wanted to haul off and slap me, which in master/slave circles, I no doubt deserved. I probably would have been strung from the ceiling of the house on North Street in short order.
“You aren’t very smart, Skye, if you haven’t figured out by now that there’s one set of rules for behavior at Lloyd & Lockhart, and an entirely different set of rules you and I have agreed to. Different logic, different rules, but we’ve agreed to both. It’s up to you to know when one set of rules applies and the other does not. What we do together may not make sense to the world that doesn’t enjoy our sexual inclinations, but as long as it works for you and me, then what the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter. If I ask you to strip nude in front of a crowd of strangers, you do it, not because it’s proper behavior but because you want to, because it makes our relationship what it is. The rule is, however, I’m the only person who gets to make that kind of kinky decision for you. When you don’t have me telling you what to do, you behave according to the rules of common decency. This should be obvious, Skye.” He looked at my vacant face, wondering. “Or, are you impaired in your thinking?
I shook my head, “No, sir. I’m not impaired.” I’d had time enough to get things straight in my whacked out brain. I didn’t need the lecture to understand his point, I’d understood it with the first queasy feeling I had following my revenge on Susan, and the next queasy feeling I had letting Roddy fuck me. I’d simply ignored them both.
“That’s nice to hear,” he replied. “Now get undressed.”
I wasn’t shocked to hear his order, but I was petrified for what might come.
Like some weird movie, creepy sounds began to surface all around me. The sounds of hammers, car engines, saw blades and voices. The place was coming alive like it should have been on a Wednesday morning. The effect was bizarre and disturbing, as if the world had suddenly changes dimensions, for a time lost in that unpeopled place where only Preston and I existed. I was glad to be back in the land of the living, but it only made my impending punishment more frightening, to realize that any moment someone might discover me naked.
As I hastily removed my clothes, I looked into the rafters and winced. Preston could have a field day with so many places to put me in bondage. I expected ropes, cuffs, all the necessary paraphernalia and I wasn’t disappointed. As I was undressing, Preston pulled a long length of black hemp from the satchel he’d brought with him. He proceeded to bind me in a rope-dress of intersecting, intertwining ropes, beginning at my neck, wrapping my torso and descending into my crotch, where an overhand knot rested intentionally over my clit. My arms and legs were free to move, but not without tugging at the ropes in reminder. The bondage was more than a physical thing… it worked like magic on my brain, tethering it to Preston with an invincible knot. Such care! Such strange affection! His attention to every perfect detail of the bondage dress seemed intimate, even loving. And the warmth of his hands as they skillfully worked produced a longing in me I’d never felt before. As he finished tying off the ends neatly at my thighs, I found myself craving him more than carnally. I wanted inside his brain, his body, his thoughts. I wanted to understand his soul… that remote, inaccessible place few would ever find. I knew I was about to be punished, but that didn’t matter. Whatever brought us together thrilled my heart—even if this scene had been created by my regrettably reckless behavior.
Unfortunately, like so many times before—and since—Preston altered reality to suit his fancy, not mine. Just as he finished the bondage, as if he’d choreographed the scene down to the last detail, I heard a car pull up in the drive. It wasn’t enough that the work site was suddenly teaming with activity and the fear of being discovered heightened every second, but into that explosive atmosphere, Preston added a spiteful twist.
I stared toward the front of the house, through an open window, and there, grinning and unmistakably malicious, was Susan stepping out of her car and coming up to the house. My entire body gasped, while I sighed aloud, “Oh, no!” trying to keep my feelings quiet but unable to.
He’d thrown our intimate games out the window and implemented a new one that I was sure to hate.
When Susan arrived, picking her way gingerly in high heels through the dust and mud, I knew I was doomed. The vile woman strode into through the door with an evil smirk on her face, just as Preston was tying my wrists to beams above. Throwing his heaviest rope over the thick rafters, he then wrapped my hands and wrists until the bondage was secure and I was unable to move.
“Keep your legs spread, or I’ll bind them apart,” he ordered. I took his message seriously, enduring the strain it placed on my thighs and my upper body. If I didn’t know before that this would be a trial to endure, I knew it then.
“Oh! How pretty we are,” Susan bleated sarcastically, as she suddenly turned her attention from an inspection of the room to me. Her eyes lit on me with a devilish glare. I swear she was Lucifer’s twin incarnate—Preston would assure me later that she was just an accidental witch. Her nails—long, precisely manicured and painted cherry red—picked delicately at the tight ropes binding my breasts, just to see how tightly they’d been tied. I jumped a little each time her nails bit into my skin. She ran a hand down my chest in front, to my pubis, then around my side and over my ass cheeks. I held my breath, waiting. Any second I expected her to strike with a nasty bite and devour my flesh. “Humm…” The hum was guttural, like a growling beast still caged. “You say she’s mine?”
“All yours, Susan.”
Why on earth I would utter a sound at that moment, I don’t know. I expected something as odious as this in punishment, but I couldn’t stop my ill-timed gasp of dismay, “Oh, Preston, please no! You can’t give me to her
!”
My master moved so swiftly that even Susan was taken off guard and forced aside by his imperious wake. He slapped my cheek with a stinging shot, then grabbed my chin so that I was forced to look him in the eye. “Don’t argue with me, Skye. You’ll only make me hurt you more. This is just desserts for a reckless, self-indulgent and childish act. Susan has every right to punish you for what you did to her and I’m just giving her the chance. You’ll find she’s a skilled dominatrix. I trained her myself when she flunked submissive training.”
“Yes, I couldn’t stand the abuse,” she piped up.
“Or enjoy the surrender,” Preston added a bit cynically. “You should thankful I’m not the one meting out your punishment, because it would surely be worse.” Seeing the look on his face, I had no doubt he believed that to be true. I shuddered to my core. The strength in his voice and his clutching fingers transmitted power and desire, and—if I was not mistaken—a certain fondness for me. At least I wanted to believe that. Other couples might have sat down and talked about the incident in the boardroom in rational tones, discussing motives and apologies and sorting out reasons why to some logical end. Apparently, Preston and I would settle our quarrels in a different manner, adjusting an imbalance with physical reprimands and symbolic corporal acts of atonement. I understood the reasons why, but I would still despise the methods he used, no matter how perfect they really were. If Preston wanted to stop any future foolishness, this was certainly the way to do it.
He let go of my chin and stepped away, still keeping a fixed eye on mine.
“She won’t give you any trouble,” he stated plainly to both Susan and me.
“I’m sure she won’t,” Susan chimed in immediately, contentedly, with the same self-satisfied smirk she wore on her face when she arrived.
She turned me, toying again with the ropes, tugging and pulling a bit, while she thought out her plan. If I’d been her, I would have had it all in mind in advance. But she seemed to prefer the spontaneity, and—I learned, much to my dismay—was certainly not short on creative ways to abuse me.
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