Before you leave or bat a lash, remain in leather to add to your stash. Head to the men’s belts and see what you find…and try not to panic. Keep an open mind…
Oh, his little poems were just getting worse, but she knew she’d keep them all and hold them dear to her heart.
As she scurried through the racks to find men’s accessories, she attempted to dismiss her racing heartbeat. A leather belt. He was going to strike her with it, she knew. She had, though, asked for the flogger when he’d instituted her first spanking. There was a first time for everything. And true to his promise, she had indeed begun to embrace that which once repelled her. Her trust in him would have to carry her forward in this road to complete submission.
One long, glazed alligator strap with a thick silver buckle from w.kleinberg found its way into her shopping bag as she scrambled to read her next note. She knew she couldn’t possibly have much time left.
Next, head up one flight to décor for the home. One might use this to draft her first tome. You’ll find it perched upon a desk…along with instructions on where to go next.
“Hurry, Maxine…” he warned. “Or you’ll be late. And you know I don’t take well to tardiness.”
However, she stopped so suddenly when she rushed off the escalator that she scuffed her shoes against each other. The entire floor was filled with nothing but linens and dishes and gifts for the home! She had no idea where the hell to begin. Fuckballs of the worst kind!
Around the floor, she circled, narrowing her eyes in between the shelves and racks, but she couldn’t find a single desk. She would literally have to meander through each and every mini-department within each section.
Skipping through bathroom towels and fittings, she knew she wouldn’t find what she was looking for there, and then scuttled on through dining and tableware. Naturally, the bedding department was huge—packed with curtains and blankets and pillows and trinkets. There were nightstands and dressers…chairs…and desks? Maxine had to look carefully without spending too much time on her efforts.
Once around—then twice for good measure—she had to move on.
“You’re warm, Maxine,” Drew’s voice encouraged. “But that’s all I can help you right now. If you fail this task, the onus is on you, little one.”
“Thanks for nothing…Kind…” Her eyes suddenly darted over to a far off corner where she spotted an antiqued white desk with some sort of display sitting on top. “Sir!”
“One might use this to draft her first tome…a plume!” she said and lifted the feathered ink pen from the desk. “A plume?”
She had no time left to ponder the plume. Seconds continued to slip through her hands, but she had yet another mission to complete. Oh, she only had hope, a wing, and a prayer that she’d manage to accomplish this next edict before time ran out.
One last stop along your way. I’m sure you’ll find something fitting in lingerie. With that task, your hunt will be complete. Then return to me, but please be discrete. Good luck. Signed, Kind Sir.
Maxine nearly tripped over her own feet again, taking the escalator stairs two at a time. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead in her anxious hurry. From her vantage point, she could see the top of those moving stairs, but even as she moved forward, she felt as if she were still so far away from completing her mission.
Relief flooded her for the first time that evening when she discovered her next parcel sitting right on the display table in front of the escalators. And in her madness to return to Drew, she didn’t bother to even take a look. Maxine swiped the box off the table and straight into her bag. Right now, she had to get back to that damn salon at breakneck speed. She only hoped that she literally didn’t break her neck in the process.
“I’ve left the doors unlocked for now,” Drew alerted her once more. “See you shortly. You have five minutes and twenty-four seconds…”
Down those escalators, she hauled her ass, sprinting then sliding across the finely polished marble floors in her crazy dash to reach him before the clock ticked down to zero. Her hair was a mess and clung to her sweaty face. She was certain what little make-up she’d worn had faded. And as she struggled with what she was relatively sure were probably her last breaths, she pressed on, vowing to beat him at his own little game that evening.
Just as she reached the final hallway that led through the maze toward the salon, she could hear Drew counting. “Seven…six…”
“Fuck to the balls!”
“Four…three…two…”
Chapter Eight
“One!” Maxine shouted as she stumbled through the door and dropped the bag to the carpet beneath her tired feet. Immediately, Drew rushed to her side with a bottle of water, which she gladly accepted. “I did it, Kind Sir!”
“Boastful. Again. That mouth, Maxine. We need to work on that. Tonight.” Even in his Dominance, though, Drew couldn’t resist his constant urge to take care of her. Rubbing her back, he waited while she steadied herself. “Oh, you love coming in just under the wire, don’t you? Gives you a thrill?”
“Took me a while, Sir…lots to find…”
“Your excuses are growing duller every single time,” he said, lifting the bottle back to her lips for another drink, and then slipped into the hallway to lock the doors again. “If you weren’t so fucking cute, I’d be snoring by now…”
“Sor—” Maxine cut herself off. She knew he didn’t want to hear her apologies. “I will try harder to keep you awake in the future, Sir.”
Cocking his head to the side with a smile of amusement on his lips, Drew said, “Good girl…”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Right now, I want you to strip, and I want you to put on what’s in that box for me,” he said. “Understand?”
That made Maxine grin. “Oh, yes, Sir!”
“Then we’ll take a look and make sure that you found everything on my list,” he continued. “You know I always check it twice.”
With an air of carelessness, she tossed the box lid aside in her exhaustion, but quickly picked it up and placed it on the nearest table, so as not to make a mess of their playspace before they even began. In a much more delicate manner, she moved aside the tissue paper, and as she peered inside, she cooed. “Aw, Kind Sir…it’s…”
For a moment, as she considered the lingerie, Maxine thought she could never pull it off. She’d returned to the fitting room again, feeling ugly. However, Drew wouldn’t stand for her wallowing in self-pity. He did his damnedest every day to give her the confidence that she so desperately needed to find within herself.
“This is stunning, Sir,” she whispered at last. “And I can’t wait to try them on for you.”
“Well, I don’t like to be kept waiting, Maxine,” he said. “And you’ve been stalling with everything all night long…”
With a nod, she stepped out of her shoes and reached for the top button on her periwinkle blouse. Drew’s eyes followed her fingers as her shirt opened, revealing the boring white bra she wore beneath. Hips wiggling, she reached behind to attend the zipper of her slim black skirt, then allowed it to shimmy to the floor. At that moment, she decided that she loved getting undressed like this before his appreciative gaze, revealing her body to him once again. She was his alone to enjoy, and that thought filled her with ravenous desire.
Before he had the chance to reprimand her, Maxine knelt down to pick up her clothes and fold them. When she returned to her feet, she placed them just beside the box lid from her lingerie.
“Bra and panties now?” he prompted her.
For her own comfort, she freed her breasts from their confines first, then slipped the panties down ever so slowly while Drew bent down on one knee to capture her ankle in his hand. “Allow me…” he suggested, tugging her underwear over one foot and then the other. His hand made a victorious fist around the tiny wet slip of cotton, and he didn’t return them to her to put away with her bra. That souvenir was his to have….
Shoulders back, she stood strai
ght. Although there were many, his rules were simple, and Maxine wanted nothing more than to prove to him what she’d learned so far.
“What shall I put on first, Sir?”
Two steps backward led Drew to the couch. He took a seat—front row—ready to direct her in this second act. “Start with the stockings, Maxine.”
Thigh-highs. Maxine hated them. Perhaps her angst in wearing them reverted back to her heavier days. Once she’d tried to wear a pair, and all night long, she kept feeling like they were about to fall to her knees. For Drew, though, she had to try.
Her fingers had never felt such silky luxury in a pair of hose before as she rolled the first stocking over her toes. She could only hope that she wouldn’t lose her balance as she made her attempt to dress for him, yet she felt she needed to give him a bit of a show.
Once her foot was covered, she pointed her toe with the poise of a prima ballerina and propped it against the carpet. With careful attention to her every action, she held his sinful stare as she merely caressed the silk over her ankle—taking care to massage a bit as she continued up her calf—and then tugged over her knees to her thigh. In one snap of the elastic band, the stocking found and held its position.
Before she moved on for a repeat performance with the other leg, Drew noted, “You’re teasing me, Maxine.”
She wasn’t about to lie to him. Instead, she faced him and said, “Yes, Sir, I am.”
Maxine also knew, though, that he was quite taken with her show.
“You know, sometimes I wonder who’s the submissive here because you certainly love to inflict pain upon your poor old Master,” Drew carried on. “Get dressed, Maxine. I’m putting a sixty-second timer on you.”
Fuckballs. Foiled again.
Drew had selected rather appropriately the Moonlight line from Simone Perele. The set included a push-up bra, panties and garter belt—all fashioned in an opulent black lace, with touches of the night sky embroidered with silver threads. The see-through pattern, apparently chosen so that he could play peek-a-boo with her nipples, played against her delicate skin. Under Drew’s time crunch again, though, Maxine didn’t have a chance to appreciate it fully until she fastened her last garter. She knew she had to straighten herself, but at least she’d dressed within his minute-long parameter.
“You certainly made good time, Maxine, however—”
There was always a ‘however,’ ‘but,’ ‘if only…’ with Drew. Patiently—yes, patiently—she awaited his assessment.
“You look so sloppy here…” he said and tossed his hands in the air as he arose from the couch to help fix her. She could feel his finger unsnap one of the straps affixed to the top of her stocking, then the pluck of elastic against her skin just to punctuate his point. “Your garters are coiled. And you missed the second hook and eye on your bra. Is this any way for a proper submissive to dress for her Master?”
“No,” she admitted in defeat. “It’s not, Sir.”
Smoothing first over the pewter florets that adored the strap, he leaned in closer to whisper into her ear. “This is not acceptable.”
“I know now, Sir…”
“Yes, you’re learning,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’ve got to make a greater effort here, Maxine.”
Again, rather than protesting and insisting that she did her best, Maxine succumbed to her foibles, all the while feeling the heat rise between her legs with every harsh word that fell from Drew’s lips. In this altered state—in her drift toward subspace—she hated to displease him…but she also relished his reproach.
“And we must straighten the boyshorts before they just get stuck there as they are right now,” he said, his hands fitting those tiny panties over her ass. “Now…shoes…”
Those damn spikes! How she dreaded the thought of stepping into those two mini-towers of doom. However, they were merely playing, and he hadn’t asked her to sport them yet on the street. Maxine knew that she did need to train herself to walk in heels. Drew preferred them, and while she was reluctant to cop to the notion, she did rather enjoy seeing the world from a few inches above ground. Made it easier to kiss him, too—when he permitted her.
Christian Louboutin did not disappoint. There was actually a surprising comfort level that she’d discovered in these red-soled shoes. The black background was the perfect backdrop to the scrolled, swirled latticework stitched upon the suede. Yet again, he had matched her footwear perfectly with her outfit and other accouterments for the evening.
It wasn’t, however, the time to fill herself with false self-confidence in her lack of poise. Maxine reminded herself to tread gently with every step, lest they encounter a repeat of the night they first met.
“There…” he said, stepping back to survey Maxine, who had dropped her head in deference. Yes, she was progressing quite nicely. “So very lovely, little one. Now, you make me proud to be your Master.”
“Thank you very much, Sir,” she whispered. “Your compliments are most appreciated.”
Unable to resist, he slipped his hand between her legs for a very slow tickle, holding on to her waist with the other. “As are my criticisms, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, Sir…”
“You may not come until I give you permission this evening, Maxine,” he challenged her. “Next you’re going to learn the meaning of the word ‘patience.’”
“Won’t come…til…told…Sir…promise…”
“Never,” he said as he suckled on her earlobe, taking the emerald into his mouth, “make a promise to your Master that you cannot keep.”
“Yes, Sir…”
“Now, it’s time we have a bite to eat. I must feed you before we play…”
“Not again, Sir—” she sputtered without thinking. Oh, no! This is it. I’m down for the count this evening. “I mean…Sir…whatever…Sir wishes…for…”
“Sit that gorgeous little ass down at the table right now,” he ordered and let her go. “And just for that little protest, Sassypants, I shall restrain you and feed you myself.”
Balls of the fuckiest kind were just raining upon her like pellets of hail that night. But bad behavior did indeed warrant consequences.
“Now, just so that we’re clear on everything, I want you to have the full picture this evening, Maxine.”
The table had been set with delicacies from McKenzie’s own gourmet cafe—a selection of cheeses and finger sandwiches with a perfect plate of red velvet cupcakes and assorted truffles. He stuck with chilled foods that could be easily kept in the small fridge in the salon, daring not to attempt to heat anything up and burn the whole fucking store down.
From the bag, he pulled out her finds from her hunt and arranged them all upon the table for Maxine’s viewing.
“Any questions?” he asked.
Far too many, she thought, her eyes zoning in on the belt.
“Ah, I knew that would cause some concern,” Drew’s voice soothed and condescended simultaneously. “What do you think I’m going to do with it?”
Bottom wiggling against the chair, she did her best to sit straight and hold her shoulders in place. She realized now that her posture connected directly to his line of vision with her breasts. Given that she’d developed a fondness for breast play, Drew required easy access.
“If I may wager a guess, Sir,” she began, “I should think that you’re likely going to swat my ass with it.”
Lifting the belt from the table, Drew knelt down on one knee as he caressed the buckle right down the center of her breasts that just slightly puckered over the rim of the bra. The metal left her with a cold chill, and she shivered, wondering and waiting for his next move.
“That’s one possibility…” he continued to bait her. “The thoughts of what I could do with this are limitless, really.”
Rather than allowing her head to fall in shame, she caught his eyes with determination.
“For now, though,” he said as he crawled around to the back of the chair, “I think we’ll just do this.”
Drew then reached around and grabbed the cuffs and affixed each to the chair. Moving around once again, he settled in front of her. “I’m buckling you in, Maxine—just for assurance on my part here.”
“I understand, Sir…” she said, but refused to allow herself to feel relieved just yet. The night was still youngish, and they had plenty of time to play with that belt before they both turned into pumpkins.
That evening, though, Drew certainly didn’t mind his own manners, and he sat right down on the tabletop to face her. “First, we shall eat. You must be starving…”
Actually, she was hungry—both for food and for him. “Yes, Sir…yes, I am…”
As he lifted one of those tiny sandwiches to her lips, he smiled. In just a matter of days, practically, he could already see the changes in Maxine. She certainly hadn’t gained enough weight back yet to hide the telltale signs of anorexia, but Drew kept in contact with Ben, especially on days when he couldn’t see Maxine. Ben, in turn, assured him that she had indeed been regularly eating . He also kept a close watch on her after meals to make sure that she wasn’t sneaking off to her little private bathroom. Words couldn’t express how appreciative Drew was of Ben’s concern for Maxine.
“May I have another one, Sir?”
Her hunger thrilled him, but he didn’t want to force her to eat too much too quickly. “Oh, you have to wait a minute here, little one.” Drew bit into a cupcake then offered his finger, covered with cream cheese icing, to Maxine to lick clean. “Sir needs to eat, too.”
And Drew continued their game until she’d consumed what had to have been at least a half of a regular sandwich. “Good girl…” he said while he continued to feed her.
“Yummy…” she giggled as she inadvertently nipped at his finger.
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 12