'Isn't there some...' a rather loud squeak ensued as a particularly hard whack cracked down, 'health and safety law against that?' Her words tripped over one another in a breathless manner and her squirming increased. He could feel his cock harden painfully as he watched her body undulate backwards and forwards.
'Against what?' He raised an eyebrow out of habit, but was aware she couldn't see it.
'Against try-ing,' another squeak, 'to walk,' a yelp of pain, 'in-high-heels-with-your-panties-around-your-ankles!'
'It's a good job I speak gibberish, Miss Morreau. No, the only laws in my office are those which I set and you will ensure that you walk slowly and carefully so as not to injure yourself. If you manage to injure yourself through your own stupidity you will, of course, be punished.'
Slap, slap, slap. The metronome beat of his hand was building in tempo. She had to wait a full minute before she could summon a weak, if faintly sarcastic response to his dictate.
'Obviously.' That was the last thing she said for quite some time.
It might have been because he had one hand caressing her clit, while the other continued to see to her chastisement. It might have been because her buttocks were rather appealingly red and were probably somewhat raw and painful by now, giving her something else to ponder bar that of idle chatter or... it might have been something else entirely. You could never be certain of anything with the female sex. He would have liked to believe it was the former, though.
Bringing down his palm with short, forceful bursts of staccato enthusiasm, he let her have it. Oh yes, he really gave her a shot of the good stuff. He knew she was feeling the force of his blows, because his right hand stung like hell, but she was also in the land of pleasure. His left hand was seeing to that quite nicely. Working inside her with two lithe fingers, he used his thumb to work her clit. She was so wet that no additional lubrication was required. Her moans of pain had turned into squirms of pleasure, her breathing was ragged and her ass had effloresced into a brilliant 'chilli pepper' red. He'd put money on the fact that it felt hotter than the piquant spice, too.
'I think we're done here, Marianna.' His spanking and teasing stopped abruptly and he let his hands roam over the delicate ropes of her dress. Reaching underneath her body he felt the hard nub of a nipple bursting through the fabric and he tweaked it, purely for the pleasure of hearing her gasp.
'Aren't you going to thank me, Miss Morreau? Or do we need another lesson while we work on your manners?'
She broke free of the painful, pre-orgasmic haze that had taken over her body, shook her head and mumbled something along the lines of, 'Sorry, Sir. Thank you for your instruction, Sir.'
At least she knew better than to ask for her pleasure. Mr Entwell seemed to have managed a tolerable result with her. Some of the blondes would be begging for release right now and he couldn't help but admire her willpower. He'd make sure it came crashing down around her stilettos before the evening was out, but at this moment in time he was impressed. 'You may get up now,' he instructed, 'and present yourself for inspection before we leave.' With one last lingering squeeze of her ass he released her.
Straightening his legs in order to get his circulation moving once more, Mark remained in his seat whilst Marianna got to her feet. He noted that her beautifully long legs were shaking, and unless the sequins on her dress were dancing of their own accord she was a having a hard time controlling her breathing. Looking towards the apex of her legs he wondered if he'd be able to detect any lingering wetness there. No, there was nothing he could discern as of yet, but her pussy lips were delightfully swollen if one cared to look. Letting his gaze rise higher, he noted that both nipples had escaped the inadequate confines of her garment and were vying for attention, forming stiff, dusky-rose peaks. To add to the wonderful masterpiece he had just created, her perky full breasts quivered with each lungful of air she sucked in. 'Turn around for me, Marianna. I want to admire my handiwork.' He gave her a dark, predatory smile.
She immediately complied and tottered around unsteadily on her high heels. Miss Morreau was slightly off balance, it appeared. By the end of the evening she'd be a lot off balance, but she didn't need to know that, yet. When she turned her back to him he could see little through the fabric, as she had her legs tight together. That wouldn't do at all. He wanted to admire the brilliant colour he had just managed to inflict upon her.
'Spread your legs for me, Marianna. I want to see the damage.' Her legs moved woodenly, first the right and then the left, and her gasp was telling. Even the lightest touch on that derriere was going to sting for a bit, and every time the little wisps of fabric moved against her they'd chafe wickedly. She wouldn't be repeating her panty mistake any time soon, he thought.
Watching the material as it stretched he witnessed all of the tiny, netted diamonds opening slowly, to display the prize beneath. The vista was as breath-taking as the Alps. When she walked and the dress strained at her movement, her red backside would be bright enough to stop traffic.
'Wider,' he ordered, for the sheer pleasure of drinking in even more of her fiery red flesh. Obediently her legs slid further apart. 'Bend over.' As she moved forward her ass cheeks filled the dress to its widest potential. He could see her glistening sex press up against the struggling cords of netting and wondered, for a moment, whether the dress would break. It held. She'd have to hope Chanel knew what they were doing. It would be a little embarrassing if the thing disintegrated upon her later in the evening.
Looking at his watch he saw the time was now past eight o'clock. Their taxi would be waiting. He almost rubbed his hands in glee at the thought of his evening ahead. Things were most definitely going his way once again.
'OK, the inspection's finished,' he said. 'You're allowed a quick toilet break and then we must be off to meet our eagerly awaiting public.' As his back was to her he couldn't see the look of absolute horror on her face, but knew, without a single doubt, that it would be there.
The BDSM Bar
Marianna walked into the lift with the manner of one who was about to receive their last supper. Even though she walked tall and there was an air of grace and elegance about her that most females would die for, there was a look in her eyes that was a cross between fear and defeat. Defeat, because she knew she could not escape this - without losing her job at any rate - and fear as to whether she would manage to hold herself together until the evening had finished. Time would tell.
Mark was facing the evening with an air of delicious anticipation. He had plenty of ideas beating at the grey recesses of his mind, and although most were somewhat depraved, they were also rather fun. Money brought certain privileges in life, and he enjoyed them to the fullest.
As the lift doors pinged open on the ground floor he watched Marianna's body tense. It was an instinctive reaction that she had no control over. She was preparing herself to do battle with an audience. As the doors glided silently apart she tried her best to appear unconcerned with the prospect of baring all her most intimate charms, but her telling hesitation to move as the doors peeled back in their entirety said it all.
'After you, Marianna, I insist.' Mark gave a long and gentlemanly flourish with his hand to indicate she should precede him. Marianna gave him a rather petulant, unpleasant look, and he could have likened her face at that moment in time to a bulldog chewing a rather crunchy and most definitely unpalatable wasp.
Knowing she had little choice she took a cautionary step forward, followed by another and then another. Sweeping her head around from side to side, she found the brightly-lit foyer of Sandringham Apartments blissfully empty. Not even the receptionist was in sight and her previous averseness to move dissipated swiftly. Her high heels practically ran through the building at breakneck speed, and spotting the glossy black taxi that was waiting patiently just outside the automatic glass doors of the entrance, she nearly dived into it headfirst.
Mark watched her antics with interest. Public humiliation was obviously not something she was happy or
familiar with. He wondered just what she had learned under the careful eye of her tutor. They would probably find out tonight, one way or another. Little did she know it, but they were venturing out to visit a very special bar, located just outside Knightsbridge and populated by some extremely wealthy people. The bar catered to those with 'different' sexual tastes and would feature plenty of BDSM style activities. He would make sure it would be a night she would remember for quite some time to come.
Sauntering his way outside into the refreshing, cooling night air, he opened the car door which she had slammed abruptly shut, and indicated she should move up the seat. He was teasing her, knowing she would have to move her body past the watchful eyes of the driver in his rear-view mirror. She was quick to accomplish her task.
'Had I any idea how eager you were to parade yourself around central London nearly naked, I would have dispensed with your earlier spanking.' Mark pursed his lips together as Marianna's face took on an alabaster hue. Reaching up to grasp her seatbelt, he buckled it into its awaiting receptacle and let his hand brush the underside of her breast. She jumped. 'Don't look so frightened, pumpkin. If they see fear where we're going they'll eat you alive. Actually, they'll eat you alive regardless, but the difference will be whether you enjoy it or not,' he added. Marianna did not relax her rigid stance in the slightest.
As the taxi hummed into life and pulled away from the curb Mark studied Marianna, noting she was taking slow, deep breaths and that her eyes were slightly unfocused and obviously far away from the situation at hand.
'Meditating, my dear? At a time like this?' He rested his hand on her thigh and let two of his fingers poke through a shimmering diamond to draw a pattern upon her flesh beneath. She shivered and offered the faintest of curses.
'Naughty girl,' said Mark, waggling his finger at her. You know language is not tolerated in my presence. You've just added another punishment to your list. His fingers pulled at the flimsy dress and dipped below to search out sweeter, wetter pastures. Marianna immediately clenched her legs together, without thinking, and he raised a single eyebrow at her. 'That's two punishments now. Care to make it three?' Having realised her mistake, she spread her legs wide for him and wisely kept a tight lid on the expletive she would have liked to air. 'Good girl,' he consoled her. 'Don't feel too bad; I know you've been out of the loop on all things submission for the last year or two, but it will all come rushing back to you soon enough. The golden rule of thumb is to obey. Obedience is rewarded, bad behaviour is punished.' His finger stroked the silky flesh of labia and she whined petulantly.
'Define "good behaviour" and "rewards",' she said testily, as it took all the willpower she had not to pull her hips up from her seat and grind her clit into Mark's clever fingers.
His lips twitched as his free hand reached up to stroke his jaw. 'Good behaviour is doing exactly what I tell you to do. If you can figure out what I'm going to ask you to do before I've said it and act accordingly, you get bonus points.'
'Fantastic,' was her clipped reply.
'As to rewards, I'm open to suggestions. What would you like, Marianna?'
She appeared to consider his question thoughtfully. As his fingers swirled over her clit and her tongue caught in her throat she finally managed, 'To catch up on a year's worth of fucking.'
He laughed. 'Tut, tut, my dear, three punishments and counting! I hope you have lots of energy for the night ahead. I think you're going to need some.' He then concentrated his attention on exploring the easily accessible portals of her dress. His fingers worked themselves through the fine trellis of holes until they were able to caress her most intimate parts. He took his own sweet time. Car horns bleeped, passers-by hurried to their next destination and the taxi meter, along with Marianna's pulse rate, continued to rise. Her face was that of the condemned prisoner, but at least she was only awaiting the 'little death', rather than ill-famed road to perdition.
'You can't fight this, Marianna.' He continued to edge her towards the point of orgasm, slipping inside the wet, wanton core of her body, feeling her hips tilt towards him of their own accord.
'I can try.' Marianna's eyes flicked back and forth, from the taxi driver to her tormentor.
'Try all you like. I guarantee you'll fail.' He began to spread her slick heat generously over her clit before proceeding to nudge the little nub into life once more. 'Twenty minutes ago you'd have begged me for an orgasm, given half a chance. You women are contrary animals.' He watched her body stiffen and struggle to retain control. It was a battle she couldn't hope to win. 'Before you know it you'll be enjoying the art of exhibitionism and begging me for more of the same. It's an adrenaline thing.' He saw her eyes dart to the rear view mirror and knew she had caught the taxi driver looking at her by the shocked expression on her face. His fingers continued to plunder her body, pulling her dress this way and that across her body, chafing at her nipples and making them peak into beautiful, rosebud points.
'Come for me now, pumpkin. Show me and our driver just how much you're enjoying the ride.' He knew she was close. He could smell the resentment and arousal through her tortured breaths.
'Speaking of rides,' Marianna managed to bite out through the fast onset of her rushing hormones, 'why didn't you use your limousine? Surely that would have been more comfortable?' It was a timely comment as they hit one of London's many potholes, which rocketed both the car and herself into orbit.
'I like to live life on the edge,' was his reply.
When the taxi pulled to a stop not ten minutes later Marianna had almost managed to restore her equilibrium, such as it was. When she took this career path she had known what would be expected of her, but putting it into practise was another matter entirely. Where had her poise and grace fled to? The other side of the continent, she suspected, if not further. Glancing through the window to see what sort of fate awaited her, her eyes were met by darkness. The journey had taken close to forty-five minutes and the thick veils of night had now firmly descended upon the inhabitants of London. It was a relief of sorts, because no one would be able to see as clearly as they would have in daylight, but the drawback to that was that the interior of some of the bars littering the streets were brightly lit. If she were to be 'showcased' inside somewhere with glaring bright lights, life was going to get a little difficult for her, to say the least.
To be fair, an evening with Matthews was going to be a hell of a lot more 'difficult', but hanging off his arm was a reward of sorts. How could a face that was so handsome hide a mind that was more corrupt than the average politician's? If the man had morals, she had yet to discover them.
He had shown some compassion towards her, she thought grudgingly. At least he'd allowed her a moment of release before they embarked upon this next journey or she would probably be at his feet, dribbling and begging for a moment of his time, pretty much like any other sane female on the planet. Watching as Mark placed a wad of bills in the driver's hand and offered a kind word of thanks, her hooded eyes followed him as he opened his door before walking around to pull open hers. He was playing the gentleman this evening, then. What a laugh that was. Bracing herself to absorb the horrified stares of the general public, she gripped hold of Mark's proffered hand and let him propel her upwards. The sound of the taxi speeding off into the distance did not even register. There were people all around her, chatting, walking, pressing buttons on their cell phone and delving inside their handbags. London was alive with the soft sounds of jazz music and the hum of neon.
Although Marianna's legs were unsteady at first, her stiletto heels not helping to maintain her balance, she found the sheer indifference of the people around her, who whizzed past on either side lost in their own little worlds, served to soothe her somewhat. Most were dressed a good deal more conservatively than her, but one or two could have been near rivals, with skirts so short they revealed lacy panties and almost transparent plastic tops which displayed Victoria Secret's finest creations. There was plenty of leather to be seen, and black appeared
to be the colour of choice. Studded, spiked collars were on proud display (with chains attached!) and piercings through tongues and nipples could also be spotted, if one cared to look carefully enough. Had they just entered the twilight zone? This was an area where there should have been Dior dresses and Hermes handbags.
'We're going to an "alternative lifestyle" bar, in case you're wondering,' Mark offered.
No kidding, thought Marianna, as she tried to summon up enough courage to stand a little taller and walk a little straighter. Every ten seconds she had to resist the urge to try and place her hands over her chest and crotch. Rolling her eyes, she consoled herself with the fact that she didn't have enough hands, regardless.
'Don't worry, you're soon going to see more naked people than you are clothed, so before long you'll feel almost fully dressed in that outfit.'
He winked at her. If he was trying to be reassuring, Marianna thought sourly, he was failing miserably. The paving slabs clipping under her heels stopped abruptly as he led her through a stuccoed portico, featuring some very grand ionic columns, dwarfing her with their sheer height and making her feel even more insignificant than he already had. Glancing upwards she witnessed a series of beautiful frescos, which must have been painstakingly painted by hand, adorning the ceilings.
That was just the beginning. When they entered the ornate iron doors Mark was greeted by name and the concierge, if he could be called such a thing, immediately began to lead them off to the left where they entered one of the most amazing rooms Marianna had ever seen.
Curiosity taking over, she tried her best to peer around the concierge's uniformed back, who was standing directly in front of her. To say there was a lot to take in would have been the understatement of the century. At the rear, a floor to ceiling fish tank took pride of place in glorious aquamarine blue and housed a collection of the biggest, brightest tropical fish she had ever laid her eyes upon. There was a bar directly in front of it and liveried serving staff scurried around pouring drinks and completing orders. Huge cream vases, decorated in delicate, swirling patterns, sprung out of the floor erupting in tall, leafy green potted palms. The floor was glass, it was backlit and it was clear there was a series of waterways underneath her feet, this time in turquoise green. Goldfish swam in busy shoals beneath her. The movement set her off kilter and her heel would have folded beneath her had Mark not tightened his grip on her arm.
A Rough Ride: Pony girl training in latex and leather (Pony Tales Book 5) Page 12