by John Argus
‘Earn…? How?’
‘By carrying out any order I give you, be it to clean the floor, fetch my cleaning, or… service me.’
Service him?
‘I’ll not punish you too severely. But you will obey my every word and show me the proper degree of respect. Do you understand?’
‘I guess so, but—’
‘Say, yes sir.’
She stared at him for a long minute. It was a beautiful apartment, and she could stay in idle comfort for some time. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, barely breathing the words.
He smiled, then withdrew a folded sheet of paper from a pocket and placed it on a low table, placing a gold fountain pen beside it. ‘Sign this,’ he ordered.
‘What is it?’
‘Never mind what it is. Sign it.’
But of course, she couldn’t simply sign something without reading it:
I, Gwendolyn Allison Pepperdine, agree to being employed by CLF Enterprises Incorporated, in the position of Body Servant. In this position I agree to obey any and all orders given, and to provide the full use of my body in any way, sexual or otherwise, my employers desire. I consent to any punishment, physical or otherwise, my employers choose to exercise.
‘But, I can’t sign this!’ she blurted angrily. Although she had a suspicion such a document was invalid, she knew little about law. Her head span; when had he prepared it? And how did he know her full name?
‘Sign it or leave,’ he said firmly, breaking into her confusion.
I acknowledge that my lack of skills, talents or academic credentials makes my most reasonable employment that of a sexual pleasure device and will endeavour to fulfil this duty to the best of my limited abilities.
‘This can’t be legal,’ she declared.
‘Then sign it.’
Gwendolyn pursed her lips, pondered for a few seconds, and then signed the paper. He took it and the pen from her and put them away.
‘Now put your hands behind your head and arch your back,’ he ordered. ‘More, slut… that’s it.’ He circled her slowly, examining her body, and she stood there, feeling her arousal growing. She had never displayed herself for a man before. It felt bizarre.
He moved away, and then returned. ‘Take this,’ he said.
She saw he held a large realistic looking plastic phallus, and took it awkwardly.
‘Put it inside yourself.’
She stared at him in shock, then gasped and dropped it. ‘I can’t do that,’ she said.
‘Why not?’
‘I… well… um…’ She did not know how to answer him, so he shook his head slowly and she blushed in confusion as he picked up the dildo and put it in her hand.
‘Do it now,’ he insisted. ‘Show me you can obey when I give you an order. Don’t argue. Don’t question. Just do what you’re told, you little whore.’
She stared at him, shocked and anxious, then looked down at the phallus and inhaled sharply. Knowing she had to obey she placed it against herself, and immediately felt a surge of response at the pressure against her sex. She blushed more deeply, looking down at the plastic device as she slowly forced the lips of her sex apart.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered.
She raised her eyes, feeling a shameful pleasure at performing such a degrading act in front of a virtual stranger. She eased it into her body a little at a time, and each time her eyes moved off him his harsh voice ordered them back.
‘All of it, slut,’ he ordered ruthlessly.
She knew he was using the harsh words deliberately, wanting to shock her. And yet they struck that same dark hidden part of her mind, which created a heat that set her legs trembling.
‘It’s too long,’ she pleaded.
‘All of it,’ he said adamantly. ‘Every inch.’
She moaned, twisting the thing slightly, pressing the base. The tip was high inside her. She could take no more, and trying sent a spasm of discomfort through her abdomen.
He stepped forward and slapped her hand away, then held the monstrosity, shifting the angle of penetration as he thrust. She cried out as it was pushed up deeper within her; pushed up until the flat of his palm pressed against the hot flesh of her mons, then gave her a squeeze.
‘You have to learn to know the female body,’ he said in arrogant amusement.
He moved to the shelf and lifted off a pair of leather restraints, then quickly strapped her wrists together behind her back. A collar followed, to which he attached a leash. Then he led her from the room and along the hall. Gwendolyn’s mind was awash with contrary impulses. She was worried about his intentions and indignant at his treatment of her. At the same time she was finding a strange, wicked delight in the very things that worried and angered her. It was so deliciously kinky and nasty. No one had ever treated her like this, and she was finding it deeply arousing on a level she had not known she possessed.
He led her by the leash into the front room. ‘Kneel,’ he ordered abruptly.
She obeyed, breathing raggedly as he stood before her.
‘Sit back on your heels and spread your knees wide. Keep your back straight.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered. It was a silly game, of course, but deliciously exciting.
He dropped the leash and sat in a plush antique chair, staring at her, forcing her to meekly drop her gaze. ‘How many men have you fucked, Gwendolyn?’ he asked.
She raised her eyes again, frowning. ‘None of your business,’ she said.
He reached for her leash and yanked her forward, then grasped her arm, hauling her up across his lap so her bottom was raised high. ‘That’s the kind of rudeness that demands instant punishment,’ he said.
‘But you were rude first,’ she protested.
His hand settled on her rear. ‘I am the master. You are the servant. Do you understand that, slut?’ His hand cracked down against her bare bottom and she yelped.
‘Yes,’ she panted.
‘Obviously you will have to be spanked for such rudeness.’
She said nothing, her body flaring with heat, her mind spinning anxiously. His hand cracked down again and she yelped once more, the pain flaring briefly before fading. Again he spanked her, and again, and she tried to keep from making a sound. Indignation rose as she was swamped in excitement. What would her friends think? The girls would be so jealous and—
‘Ow!’
‘Naughty little sluts cannot be permitted to speak with such insolence,’ he scolded. Her bottom was getting warmer and warmer as the blows landed in slow, measured progression. It hurt, and Gwendolyn had never been one to seek out pain. Yet the little shocks of each blow rippled through her belly and down through her groin, and she moaned as she clenched her thighs together, squeezing her pubic muscles around the long thick plastic phallus deep inside her.
The blows came faster, really stinging now, and she winced and yelped and promised him her obedience. She could see nothing, her upper body being bent down over his lap, her head lolling just above his ankles.
Then the blows stopped and she was left gasping and panting.
‘Spread your legs,’ he ordered calmly.
She obeyed meekly and his hand cupped her sex. She could feel she was wet, and knew a new source of embarrassment.
‘What a slut you are.’ His voice dripped with contempt and alarm took her briefly. Then she realised he was speaking so on purpose.
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered.
He squeezed her a little painfully, then softened his grip and let his fingers stroke her slit. She moaned, helplessly thrusting back at him. He tapped the base of the dildo embedded within her and she felt the vibrations echoing deep inside her belly.
‘Do you want to come again, slut?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir… please make me come, sir…’ she gr
oaned.
His other hand slapped down hard on her throbbing bottom and she yelped and jerked. ‘I’ll do as I choose, slut.’ His fingers resumed their stroking and tapping and she moaned as the pleasure swept through her.
Another sharp blow on her bottom made her squirm. He resumed his stroking, bringing her to the edge of a climax. Then his hand slapped down, not on her bottom, but on her sex. The pain was different; duller but deeper, and she made a strangled gasp as it hit the wall of sexual heat surrounding her mind.
‘You were made to be a sexual plaything, Gwendolyn, to be at the beck and call of any man who wants your body.’
The words aroused her, and she squirmed breathlessly. And then he started stroking again and her bottom was grinding weakly once more and the pleasure was rising to nearly unbearable levels.
Again he slapped her there and again she cried out in pain and denial, but his fingers soon stroked the pain away and once more her body was thrumming with sexual energy.
And again a sharp smack on her sex brought her back down to earth. She let out a sob, not so much for the pain but the loss of the climax that had been so near.
He was playing her like a violin, with an expertise she had not imagined any man possessed. She would go mad if forced to remain in such a feverish state of sexual need for very much longer. She felt dazed, her body moist with perspiration, her insides aching.
Her wrists twisted weakly within the bonds holding them, and reminded her again of her helplessness – of the wicked, kinky nature of her position.
She felt the climax approach once more with a desperate yearning. She tried to keep her body from giving evidence, hoping to sweep into it without him knowing. It came closer and closer, until this time she was sure she would reach it. This time he was going to permit her to feel the final release she so craved. The beginnings of it swept around her, and then his hand cracked down against her vulnerable sex in a sharp flurry of blows.
The climax receded briefly at the first blow, then surged forward once more, growing and growing like a massive wave, pouring over her with shattering power.
She screamed as it hit her, shaking and grinding violently, head lolling back and forth as the climax caught her up and sent her flinging into a wild maelstrom of sensory pleasure.
She could dazedly feel the sharp pain slicing into her body, yet somehow the pain was transformed, or absorbed, and each new blow was like a burst of sexual electricity, throwing her higher and higher into a storm of mindless ecstasy.
The orgasm was still shaking her when he shoved her off his lap onto the floor. He dropped down, gripping her hips and pulling them up, raising her bottom, then kneeing her legs apart. With her face pressed against the rug, jaw slack, eyes gazing without seeing, he slipped the phallus out and fed his cock into her.
He gripped her hips tightly, yanking her backwards to meet his savage thrusts. His groin struck her buttocks with powerful slaps as he rutted wildly inside her. Her breasts and face and shoulders jerked back and forth on the rug as he grunted like a brute, using her furiously.
Chapter 3
Gwen slept in his bed that night, but with her wrists bound behind her back and her ankles locked together. She woke during the night, finding his hand between her legs, fingers lightly stroking her sex lips. She came softly, groaning weakly as he sniggered beside her.
Then she felt him moving in the darkness, saw his shadow rise beside her as his hands moved along her legs. They gripped her calves and lifted her bound ankles high, then pushed them back so that her knees pressed into her breasts. Kneeling there, he thrust his erection into her and, nothing more than a panting shadow overhead, used her briefly but roughly before dropping her legs once more and going back to sleep.
This would show daddy, she thought. She was reduced to being a sex toy to a nasty, nouveau riche yank!
She woke in the morning with him, briefly confused, then recalled her situation and felt a new blossoming of arousal as she pulled at the bonds holding her wrists together. He was stirring beside her and she caught his eyes as he turned to look at her.
His eyes were cool and calculating, measuring her, perhaps assessing her body. He threw back the sheets to show he was as naked as she, and then gestured to his penis. ‘Show me what you can do with that mouth besides talk,’ he ordered.
She should have been outraged. How dare he talk to her like that?
But instead she felt a little dagger of heat between her legs. ‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered meekly. She sat up with some difficulty, and then rolled over until her face was over his thighs. She licked at the head of his cock, and then took it into her mouth, sucking softly. Almost immediately she felt it beginning to throb with life. She sucked the rest of the flaccid organ into her mouth and massaged it there, and then as it began to stiffen she drew her lips back slowly until only the head remained inside. She let it pop free and lapped at his testicles, and then took each into her mouth in turn, licking and sucking and massaging with her tongue.
He was hard now and she took him into her mouth again, sucking as she bobbed her head up and down. She was in an awkward position without being able to use her hands or arms to support herself, and her neck was beginning to ache. So she shifted positions, bringing her knees together beneath her then bending forward. Again she took the head into her mouth, lapping at the underside as she sought to please him.
His hands fell to her hair, stroking it as she bobbed up and down. He came and she swallowed his sperm, licking faster as he groaned and squeezed down on her head. He began to soften and she continued licking, but then he pushed her off and sighed, laying there comfortably, bringing his hands behind his head.
‘Well now,’ he said, eyeing her, ‘what should we do with you today?’
‘Anything you want, sir,’ she challenged.
‘Breakfast.’ He stood up and pulled on a robe, then gestured towards the door. Gwendolyn waited for him to undo the snaps holding her ankle restraints together, but when there was no indication he was going to she threw her legs out of bed, prepared to hop.
He shook his head. ‘Crawl,’ he said.
She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then eased down onto her knees. She could not, of course, crawl while her wrists were bound behind her but—
‘On your belly,’ he ordered curtly.
She felt a fluttering in her stomach, and then awkwardly lowered herself to the floor until she lay on her stomach. She began to crawl forward, grunting as her breasts were ground beneath her body, trying to raise her chest somewhat to ease the pressure on them. She made slow progress, gasping and grunting with every wiggle that moved her forward.
And so they moved down the marble hall, the naked young woman wriggling on her belly, bound ankles sweeping from side to side behind her, hair trailing over the floor, gasping and panting, and the older man walking patiently alongside, wearing an expensive silk robe and smiling enigmatically.
They passed the lift, Gwen tiring rapidly from her exertions and wanting to ask him to let her walk. She knew he would not, however, and deep within knew that would spoil the wickedness of what she was doing anyway. So she continued, wriggling, rolling from side to side, toes pushing against the floor as her breasts were rubbed and rolled painfully along the hard, cool marble.
They moved along the second hall, and then turned in at the kitchen, moving across the tiled wood there until they reached a table. She gasped then as she felt his fist in her hair. He yanked her head up painfully, though not unbearably so, lifting her upper body off the floor and pulling her back onto her knees. There he had her sit on her heels and wait.
He started making breakfast, and Gwen, out of breath, aching in a variety of places and chilled from the floor, watched, panting and excited.
She was completely caught up in the ‘game’ now, wanting to play her part of helpless, imprisone
d girl fully. The smell of the sausages he was cooking made her mouth water, and her throat was dry. But she made no requests for food or water, knowing as his virtual pet she would be fed and given water when her master decided, and not before.
‘We’ll have to find something for you to wear, I suppose,’ he said after a few minutes.
‘My things are in a locker at Grand Central Station,’ she volunteered, but he glanced at her with annoyance and she realised she had done something wrong. Perhaps she ought not have spoken.
‘We’ll fetch them, but I doubt you’ll be wearing any of them. I had in mind something else, something less… restrictive.’
‘Restrictive?’ she said with an uncertain laugh. ‘Compared to these?’ She twisted to the side, displaying her bound wrists.
‘Are you arguing with me?’
‘No sir,’ she said quickly.
He frowned and walked over to her. ‘You have a lot to learn about showing your master the proper degree of respect due.’
She gave him a deliberately insolent look. She had been aroused since waking and remembering she was bound, and he had done nothing to assuage those feelings. Perhaps she could goad him into spanking her again.
He walked away, and the kitchen counter blocked her view of him as he left the room. She could hardly follow, so she knelt, feeling a combination of wicked anticipation and wary fear. What was he going to get? A paddle, perhaps? Would he paddle her? How much would that hurt?
He returned holding, so far as she could see, nothing, but walked over and squatted beside her. ‘New servants always seem to want to test their masters, to see what they can get away with,’ he said, and then cupped her breast, pinching and plucking the already hard nipple.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she apologised.
‘You’ll say that with more sincerity soon,’ he promised with feeling. Then she saw he did hold something in his hand. It looked like a small golden ball, attached to a short golden chain that had a tiny clip at its end. He pinched on the clip, opening it, then placed the little jaws around her nipple. She inhaled sharply, and then cried out as he let it snap closed.