A Penny Saved

by Sèphera Girón

  She stared at the pennies, studying the dates on the ones she could see, examining the numbers, the roughness or smoothness of each number etched into the coin. How many wishes were in there? If she put them all together, could she rule the world?

  Her office phone rang.

  “Finance department, how can I help you?”

  “It’s Mister Thomas. You are to report to my office immediately.”

  She hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Let the games begin.

  “Shut the door please, Cora,” Henry said as he sat behind his desk with a stern expression.

  “Yes, sir.” Cora shut the door and stood in front of his desk.

  He stared at her, tapping his pen.

  “You didn’t finish signing the contracts. Is there a reason?” he asked. He raised an eyebrow. She shuffled from one leg to the other.

  “Didn’t I? I thought I signed on all the lines,” she said.

  “In ink, yes. But you’re also supposed to sign with a drop of blood and a drop of…well…” He stared at her, his blue eyes cold and piercing. Cora shivered, his glare cutting through her with voracious intensity.

  “Oh…I didn’t…”

  Henry nodded, pulling out the pages of the contract that needed to be signed.

  “Are you happy with this contract, Cora?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Cora said.

  “Do you wish to finish signing it?” Henry asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then let’s finish it.”

  Henry opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small ritual knife.

  “From Transylvania?” Cora joked. Henry didn’t laugh.

  “From New Orleans,” he said as he held it out. She reached for it and he grabbed her wrist. Quickly, he cut the tip of the finger on her left hand.

  “Oh…” she called out in surprise.

  “Shhh,” he said. “The walls have ears.”

  He pressed her finger onto several spots in the contract and then released her wrist.

  “Put pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” he instructed, looking over the contracts. She pressed the wound with her other fingers, holding her hand above her head to slow down the bleeding until it stopped. The contracts were dry.

  “Now the last part,” he said.

  “What is that?”

  “You didn’t read this very well, did you?”

  “I read enough to decide I want to play. I know you’ll tell me when I’m going wrong.”

  He smiled.

  “Oh, yes, you will know,” he said, his eyes hardening more. “Now, Cora, you must remove your panties.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “You didn’t do this part at home and now I must do it for you,” he said. Cora was about to protest but the gleam in his eye intrigued her. She removed her clothes from the waist down. She stood in front of him as he sat on the leather couch. He studied her pussy, the firm shapes of her legs, her feet.

  “Very nice,” he said. He stood up and approached her. He was so close to her that his breath, indeed his aura, merged with Cora’s. He slipped his fingers between her legs. She was wet and getting wetter as he wiggled his fingers up into her. She unconsciously spread her legs wider, her breath already short, her body already humming, the decadence of it all filling her mind. Any one of her coworkers could come to the door and what would they see?

  He pulled his hand out slowly and stepped back.

  “Use your left finger, the one that’s cut,” he instructed. “Get it nice and slick.”

  She fingered herself, certain she could come in ten seconds or less but he stopped her.

  “Now sign the contract, as you did with your blood.”

  She pressed her shiny finger against the paper in the required places. He handed her a tissue.

  “Wipe yourself off and get dressed.”

  Cora dressed and stood in front of him as he waited for the papers to finish drying.

  “What about you? Don’t you have to sign?” she asked slyly.

  “Yes, and I did. After you returned them to me.” He held up one of the pages and she saw his signature, blood and a white glistening substance beside each instance. He raised his left index finger and she saw a small slice as the one she now bore on her own left index finger.

  “I see. Well, then it’s all done now?” she asked.

  “Indeed. It is.”

  He sat behind his desk, staring at her. She stood watching him, wondering if she was missing a cue of some kind. At last he spoke.

  “You will see a suitcase over by the couch. This contains clothing, undergarments, body fragrances, and other needs you may have to last you a couple of days. I had one of the assistants purchase all these items specifically for you this morning from your measurements that you provided in the contract.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You and I will be going on a business trip. Well, that is what the word is. In fact, you and I will begin your training this very afternoon.”

  “Today? But…”

  “Do you have pets, Cora?”

  “No.”

  “Children?”

  “No.”

  “Then there is nothing to keep you from whisking away with me this very minute.” He nearly smiled but caught himself.

  “I—”

  “Do you like fine food and liquor?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Do you crave something dark and dirty?”

  “I do.”

  “Then let us begin our fantasy today.”

  “What about Hazel? I have a file due for noon,” Cora said, worrying about the backlash she would suffer if that report was one minute late.

  “I’ll handle Hazel,” he said. Cora stared at him, as if waiting for him to change his mind.

  “Then I’m ready to begin,” Cora said.

  “Wonderful.” Henry smiled.

  Cora stood naked in front of Henry in a large white marble bathroom. The ceilings must have been twenty feet high, glass blocks letting in the bright sunshine of late afternoon. Twin showerheads glistened on one side of the room. There was a large white porcelain tub with brass clawed feet. A bidet and a toilet were on the other side of the room. Across the back wall were sinks, counters and mirrors below the brick glass.

  The marble was cold on her feet. Henry wore a leather G-string and nothing else. His body was fit, but not hugely muscular.

  Instinctively she crossed her arms across her breasts.

  “Stop with the false modesty. You know what you are.”

  She released her arms to her sides. He looked her over from copper-coloured painted toenails to the top of her head.

  “Turn around,” he commanded.

  She turned around.

  He stepped closer and she flinched.

  “Nervous, are you?” he asked, his hand striking her round ass before she could utter a word. “Don’t be.” He pointed to the shower stall. “Go.”

  “Take a shower?” she asked.

  “Don’t talk. And address me by my name.”

  “Sorry…Master.”

  “Very well. Into the shower with you. I want you clean.”

  She turned on the spray and let the water run over her. As she stood there, Master removed his leather G-string and entered the shower. He dispensed soap from the pump and lathered her from shoulders to feet. His movements were clinical, methodically bubbling then rinsing away the soap. He used a handheld shower nozzle to clean the folds of her pussy. The warm pulse against her already quivering body caused her to moan and he moved on. She moaned again as he soaped up her feet, one foot at a time, massaging each toe gently, rubbing away the aches of the day.

  When the shower was over, he rubbed her down with large fluffy towels. As warm
and inviting as they were, his rough, crisp manner made her feel like a racehorse.

  She stood in the bathroom, waiting for whatever would happen next.

  He was behind her but in the mirrors she could see him stepping closer. His eyes were wide with lust, with power, staring at her back.

  A sharp pinch on her ass caught her off guard.

  “Oh,” she said with surprise.

  “Nice,” he said, pinching her butt again before stepping back. “Turn around.”

  She stood facing him again.

  He examined her from head to toe. “Yes, very nice.”

  He paced towards the bathroom counter and plucked a pair of nipple clamps from a large array of shiny silver objects. And another clamp.

  Without a word, he returned to her and held her right breast in his hand. He secured the clamp, watching her face as he tightened the screw. At last he stopped. Her nipple burned with a pain that shot through her breast into her head. As she breathed into the pinch, he was affixing a clamp to her other nipple.

  He stepped back to look at them, her nipples already red from the pressure. She held her head up high.

  “Nice,” he mused. He returned to the counter and this time, claimed the handcuffs.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he said. She obediently placed her hands lightly against her buttocks. He snapped on the cuffs.

  “Turn around,” he said. “Spread your legs.” She spread her legs out and he parted her pussy until he found her clit. She was already beginning to swell from excitement and it only took a moment of rubbing for him to get her hard enough to pop on the clamp. She welcomed the pressure despite the sting. She didn’t dare move.

  His next trip to the table involved the selection of a dog collar. He buckled it around her neck, carefully lifting her hair away as he did so.

  “Turn around,” he said. He looked her over head to toe.

  “Ah, yes,” he mused. He went over to the counter and returned with a ball gag and a small chain.

  She let him put the ball into her mouth. It forced her mouth open and she relaxed her jaw in an attempt to lessen the impending ache. He tied a blindfold around her eyes. As she grew used to the ball gag’s intrusion, she realized he was clipping the chain to her nipples.

  “Come with me,” he said. He led her out of the bath by the chain. They paraded through the apartment several times until finally they went into a room.

  “Kneel down,” he commanded. She kneeled, keeping her balance despite the handcuffs.

  “Keep your legs open,” he said, and she spread her legs, the clamp hanging from her pussy. She was close to coming the anticipation was so great. She breathed as best as she could through the ball gag. She waited. She heard him breathing, slow and soft, but not much else. Her knees hurt as they pressed against the floor, her pussy aching with a delicious combination of pleasure-pain.

  “Stay here,” he said. She heard him walk away and shut the door.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  At first she strained for sounds, any faint indication of what he was up to, but there were none. Her heart was all that she heard, slamming in her chest, rushing through her ears. Her lips were wet as froths of saliva leaked out from around the ball gag. Her arms were growing numb from being handcuffed behind her back, the pleasure part of the sensation in her clit growing dim.

  She waited.

  It was part of the game.

  The waiting.

  The anticipation.

  She had been with many partners who got off leaving her in a room by herself for long periods of time. She always wondered what they did in that time, especially if they were at clubs. Were they with other women at the same time? Were they having drinks and laughing with their buddies? Were they standing right there jerking off in front of her?

  She never knew. She never asked. Asking was never part of the game.

  She heard him return.

  “Good girl,” he said as he walked towards her.

  Master pulled off her blindfold and looked into her eyes. His gaze was piercing, menacing. He had added a black leather harness that criss-crossed his chest and back, tied with leather laces at the sides like a minicorset.

  He slid his hands down her body until they reached her pussy. His fingers pulled at her lips, rolling them, tugging gently. He unclipped the clit clamp and she breathed with a sigh of relief that turned to a loud, long moan as a rush of pain from the pinched nerves swept through her.

  He silently removed her handcuffs and nipple clamps.

  She cried out, resisting the urge to rub her hands and breasts. He did it for her. First he rubbed each wrist firmly, moving her fingers, checking her circulation. Then he opened the screws on the clamps and gently rolled each nipple between his finger and thumb.

  The blood rushing back into her previously clamped parts made her scream and twitch with ecstasy, as his warm massaging returned her back to the room. Her nerves trembled with heightened awareness.

  There were several layers of coiled rope slung across Master’s shoulders that he had retrieved from one of the wall hooks. While Cora moved her ankles to get the blood back into them, he placed the rope on the bed except for one coil.

  He faced her.

  “The next part is going to take a long time. I’m going to call a timeout so that you can use the bathroom and drink three cups of water. Understand?”

  “Yes, Master.” She did as she was instructed. As she drank her water in the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. Part one of a real life adventure. So far, not bad. Nothing as exciting as her dreams but it beat staying home watching old TV shows.

  Her nipples were a bit sore and she rubbed them. She finished her water and returned to Master.

  Dozens of candles were lit in her absence. They flickered wildly in a half-moon, several feet away from a padded table. Candles had also been lit in the wall sconces in each corner.

  “Stand still.” He wove rope around her breasts, first one and then the other, creating a harness that also ran along her thighs.

  “Lay over there.” He pointed at a padded table slightly lower than his waist height. There were hooks and pegs in various places along it. She lay down and he began to truss her up. Rope wound round and round, legs, knees, ankles. Her legs pulled up so that her pussy was fully exposed to him. He used other coils of ropes to tie her hands to the pegs. He fastened her feet with yet another coil, hooking it through various D rings.

  When he was finished, he stepped back to look at his work. She was hog-tied, face up, her legs tied up and spread wide apart. Her arms pinned back in an elaborate labyrinth of rope, her hands anchored to the table. He stared at her up and down, savouring each loop of the rope, each globe of tied flesh, her moist pussy, her helplessness. He smiled and clucked. He paced around her, scooping up a riding crop in his pacing. He softly tapped the crop into the palm of his hand as he walked and stared at her.

  The rope bit into her flesh. The anticipation of his strikes and how hard he would go to see her suffer gave her a thrill that flowed into her pussy, and she wanted him even more.

  The first strike fell across one of her swollen breasts. She cried out.

  “Silence. I will tell you when to speak,” he commanded.

  She kept quiet as he smacked her repeatedly from breast to breast. Cora saw red welts forming on her breasts that were a rich coppery colour from the blood rushing to them as the pressure on the ropes binding them grew tighter whenever she flinched.

  A sudden strike on her nipple made her cry out. This time he didn’t silence her. As the pain subsided, a warm glow enveloped her breast, a pleasure she’d not experienced before.

  He struck her other breast, and again, she cried out with the exquisite pain-pleasure tingling rushing through her in sharp, jagged jolts.

  He smacked her
rapidly from breast to breast, then proceeded to work his way across any flesh that was exposed through the rope bindings. His touch was sharp, a bite that hurt and then ebbed into a heightened sensation that made her more aware of everything around her. Each beat of her heart, each tremble in her pussy, was in her constant awareness. Nothing existed except Master, the crop and her eager flesh.

  Blow after blow fell. She lost count of how many as she writhed and squirmed, limited movement heightening her frustration, agony and joy weaving through her in thick waves of desire. His practiced hand landed many strikes on her pussy, gentle taps that crescendoed into rapid drumming, taking her higher with lust. His teasing, his torture, made her yearn to fuck him, for him to bring her the release she so desperately craved.

  Master put the crop away and returned to her naked. She trembled and ached, breathing relaxation into her muscles that had tightened in her agony and pleasure like a fly in a web. Her body pulsed, throbbing with every beat of her heart, blood rushing to her pussy as lust consumed her.

  Master grabbed a bottle of lube from the dresser, his cock partially erect, and squirted some on each of her nipples. He touched one of her nipples with his finger, rubbing the slippery lube into it.

  “I love the way the blood rushes into your breasts like that. Perfect, smooth round balls with perfect round nipples on top.” He traced his hands along the smooth globes of her rope-tied breasts, his breathing growing deeper and louder. She relished the way his hands ran along her, spreading her in lube down her stomach and along her legs. When he rubbed lube around her pussy, it was with great self-restraint that she didn’t come. She knew it was too soon. But he moved on until she was gleaming. Her open and exposed pussy ached to be touched. But he was fixated on her engorged tits.

  “Beautiful, turning a hard coppery colour, your flesh, the candles, the darkness,” he said as he licked her breasts. She couldn’t move and was resigned to accepting the pleasure he offered her with his lips and tongue roaming along her hard pointed nipples.

  He kissed her, roughly, and held her neck.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard,” he said. He kissed her again, roughly pinching her mouth and then released her. He walked around to her pussy.