“I am here to fill out papers with Human Resources,” I returned nonchalantly. Trying not to make a negative impression no matter with whom I came in contact, I swallowed my natural impatience as he slowly typed some information into his computer and clicked the mouse at a snail’s pace. Just when I couldn’t stand the wait any longer, he appeared to find what he was hunting for in the database.
“Ah, here we are, there are some appointments. Name?” he raised his perfectly threaded eyebrows in my direction.
“Leila King, Bentley Simms sent me,” I decided to add that last touch since he was being so ridiculously unmotivated to assist me. If I was a business representative, I would surely not have the same welcome. The young gentlemen appeared to fumble at my name. He started scrambling around his desk, obviously in search of something. With a triumphant stare, he turned back toward me with a laminate affixed to a lanyard in his hand with the letters V.I.P. in big, bold print across the front. He handed me the lanyard and began to offer me stuttering explanations on how to get where I needed to go.
“I am so sorry, Ms. King, I did not know it was you,” the young man stammered as he handed me a map and gave me a brief explanation on how to reach my destination. I thanked him as I took the map, lanyard and stuttering apologies on my way out of the reception area. I followed the map to the third floor and through the doors of the department marked clearly as Human Resources.
I sat in the room alone except for the numerous workers that scurried about the department. In other words, I was alone. I scrawled my information onto countless documents in the practiced, neat penmanship of someone who is familiar with how to complete miles of paperwork. They took a copy of my social security card, driver’s license and even gave me documentation to take to the live scan agency to run my fingerprints for a background check. Apparently, Bentley’s IT company took the background of its employees extremely seriously .
Before I could leave the building, I was cut off by Bentley himself wandering the halls. I wanted to ask if he had been having someone watch for me to come in, but dismissed the paranoid thought in favor of thanking him again for accommodating my need for sudden employment. Assuring me it was nothing, he insisted on taking me to the coffee shop on the first floor and buying me a mocha.
“Almost as good as Starbucks!” He declared as he pretended to sip his beverage. I took small drinks of the hibiscus tea I had ordered and waited for him to say something. He glanced around the café, a smile on his face. His jaw was impossibly perfect, a sharp angle against his throat. No wrinkles in sight and I highly doubted that was a natural effect. He nervously drummed his fingers on the table as the air between us became stale and fell to the floor.
“Thank you again, Bentley,” I insisted I needed to leave to get to another appointment. I reached out to shake his hand and he grabbed ahold tightly, pulling me forward, almost making me lose my balance. He held me there for several seconds; I was startled and unsure how to respond. In one instant, he breathed in deeply, and then released his grip, allowing me to pull free. I stumbled slightly with the effort as his hand let go of me.
When I emerged onto the other side of the sliding doors leading to the outside, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Bentley had certainly creeped me out. First by grabbing ahold of me and then…Why was he breathing you in…like the creature on Jeepers Creepers testing your scent! I had been targeted and I didn’t even know it. I wouldn’t know it for many weeks. I dismissed the horrific idea and focused on getting home, sweet home.
The freeway was surprisingly easy on me. I was glad. All I wanted to do was sink into my couch and watch an up-lifting moving. Something light to distract me from the hell my life had become. Additionally, I wanted to put a lot of distance between me and my mother’s husband. I felt uneasy about the whole situation and wanted to feel safe again. Finally, I reached my off-ramp and guided my car into my parking space in the garage set behind my building. I climbed the stairs with surprising ease, the energy understandably coming from my need to get into the safety of my own apartment.
My key turned in the lock with ease and I pushed the door inward, staring around my apartment, glad to see its familiar surroundings. I dashed inside and locked the door quickly behind me. Peering through the peephole, I half expected to see Bentley’s face peering back at me. Something wasn’t quite right there. I just couldn’t put my finger on it, yet.
I tried to concentrate instead on my date with Gordon. I was to meet him at the Penthouse that evening which had me overjoyed. That meant I would return to my role as his Goddess. Excitement fueled me with energy as I scurried about my apartment before deciding to take a shower to freshen up. I let the hot water cleanse me for longer than usual before exiting the shower and rubbing my skin with moisturizer. After drying off completely, I sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed concentrating. Breathing exercises helped me focus on the events to come. I needed to get myself back. I hadn’t attempted that method in quite some time, but these were extenuating circumstances.
Time went by quickly and I had burned off the last several hours before I was to meet him. I changed into one of my adjustable corsets, having to loosen the laces quite significantly to still close. A simple, stretchable pencil skirt slipped carefully over the garter belt and thigh-high stockings I wore. Instead of heels, I again opted for wedge heels, as I had noticed how much easier they were to balance on.
I put on fresh makeup, a darker look for the evening. My hair I pulled back into a tight French braid. As I prepared myself physically, I continued to mentally prepare myself to be the powerful dominatrix that dwelled deep inside me, channeling the feminine powers that were present inside every woman, yet unfortunately ignored by most. I began to feel more in control. It wasn’t long before it was finally time to take my leave.
My hands gripped the leather steering wheel of my Jaguar as I guided it out of the parking area and onto the surface streets. Heading in the direction of the Penthouse, I merged onto the freeway carefully, making sure I left plenty of space between me and the car in front of me. I noticed the adrenaline had started to course through my veins and I was feeding off the strength it gave me. When I reached the off-ramp, I eased off the gas and turned toward the coast.
The building lurked in the distance against the horizon. Tall and ominous, a dark blot against the sky. My heart was beating fast in my chest as I pulled into one of the available spaces close to Gordon’s limousine. He had already arrived, of course, and was no doubt preparing for my appearance. I pictured his form kneeling before me, bowing low at the waist, showering my feet with tender kisses of adoration. The image made me smile to myself as I tied my mask on behind my head and exited the vehicle.
Crossing the lobby, now familiar faces greeted me with haphazard smiles. They glanced at me long enough to acknowledge my presence before scurrying off to their destination. The elevator was waiting for me; doors wide open upon approach, as I slid inside, my stomach fluttered with excitement. I took a deep breath and entered the code to allow me access to the Penthouse on the top floor. Sliding quickly shut on their tracks, the doors closed tightly and the elevator lurched slightly before gliding upwards.
When the car stopped and the doors pinged as they slid open, my eyes met a delightful sight. Once again, blood-red roses spilled out of large vases placed intermittently throughout the penthouse. Candles flickered in the slight breeze provided by the air conditioning, throwing dancing shadows onto the walls. I could hear soft music playing as if in the distance. Smiling to myself, I stepped off the elevator and back into a world where I ruled supreme .
Gordon waited for me patiently across the penthouse. He had evidently heard me come in because as I approached his awaiting figure, he fell swiftly to his knees as he simultaneously spun around to meet my gaze. His face turned down slightly as he cast his eyes toward the floor upon my arrival. A low purr escaped my lips as I reached out to touch his naked flesh. Upon my touch, Gordon thrust his chest forward and pulled his e
lbows back in a perfect presentation.
Without a word, I dragged my fingernails across his shoulders and down the line of his spine toward his chiseled ass. His muscles tensed at my assault, but his form remained perfectly staged. I couldn’t help but lick my lips as he fell all the way forward to meet my feet with his mouth as I came back around to the front of his body. Waiting patiently while he showered me with adoration, I smiled down at him. He did not look up at me when he pulled himself back upright at my signal, lacing his fingers behind his neck and straightening his spine, Gordon forced his chest forward and tucked his backside under to thrust his pelvis forward. Perfection!
I crossed the room where a table had been set up with several implements lined up in perfect intervals along the surface. My hand trailed across the handles of a large flogger, short crop, a rounded bamboo paddle, to name a few. Gordon remained in his position, facing away from me now as I wrapped my hand around the handle of the flogger and lifted it from the surface of the table. Swinging the tendrils of leather that hung from the carved, wooden handle, I observed him tense slightly as he heard my footsteps approach.
From behind my mask, I looked down at the dedicated soul that loved to serve my every desire. Gordon resembled Atlas as he knelt before me in my preferred presentation position. His broad, muscular shoulders flexed in their exhausting position. Chiseled abs met his perfect pectorals and continued down toward his impressive shaft, now standing at complete attention. Good boy! The devious and darker part of my mind was well-pleased.
When I trailed the leather along his awaiting flesh, Gordon’s muscles tensed. He was visibly shaking, anticipating my first strike, or at least attempting to. I smiled at this as I continued to tease him with the flogger. Once I was convinced he had no idea it was coming, I arched my arm upward and swung the flogger forward, landing my mark perfectly. He hissed between clenched teeth as the leather found his skin, leaving long, thin welts behind. I was quite pleased with how reactive his flesh was.
Alternating sides, I counted down in my mind backward from ten as I struck him repeatedly. With each strike, Gordon became less controlled, his breathing coming in rapid gulps of air. I stopped when I reached zero and waited for him to regain his composure. His shoulders heaved with the effort, but maintained their place. When he pushed his chest back out, I knew he was recovered enough to continue.
Walking around to the front of him, Gordon flashed his eyes up at me for a split second. I saw his shoulders slump forward when he realized I had seen him look directly at me. I shook my head side to side in an exaggerated fashion so he could clearly see my disappointment. He lowered his head slightly in acceptance of his punishment as I started to strike the fronts of his thighs with the flogger. Crisscross patterns formed with each stroke, my final blow finding the length of his erection, leather straps wrapping around him, not missing an inch. He groaned loudly as his head dropped back slightly, a mixture of pleasure and pain fixed on his features. I was pleased with his reaction and reached forward to stroke the tender canvas his skin had become .
It gave me great joy to see the look on his face as I flogged him, his brows knitted together in deep concentration. The color of his skin was an angry, red color that flushed the surface of his flesh. As I landed each blow, Gordon moaned out loud, eyes rolled back into his head. He was giving all of himself to me, the way it should be, and I was well pleased. Every inch of him gifted to me. Pleasing thoughts filled my mind as I counted backward from ten once again, attempting to push his pain threshold. He would obviously have none of it as I punished him relentlessly. When I noticed him trembling beyond control, I stopped swinging the flogger, and approached him. I stroked his bald head with my hand lovingly. He responded by tilting his head toward me, his forehead coming to rest on my chest.
“Mmmm, such a good slave tonight,” I purred into his ear, “tell me, who is your Goddess?” I wanted to hear him say it. It had been several weeks since I had felt him collapse into me after working him over. The feel of him trying to gain control over his breathing was elating.
“You are, my Goddess,” his voice nearly a whisper as he responded. I smiled down at him, his head resting on my bosom, eyes closed with his concentrated efforts toward recovery. He was trembling slightly as I guided him toward the other side of the room where the bed waited to fold him into its protective surface. I let the flogger fall to the floor at the edge of the bed and turned him so his back was toward the bed. He slowly rose to his feet as I nudged him upward. I ran my fingers gently over his welted flesh, a slight hissing sound as he took a deep breath through clenched teeth, his nerve endings were no doubt on fire.
For several moments, I stared at his form, muscles and steel, admiring his stature. He was a physically strong man, likely capable of crushing someone my size, but he was all mine. At that moment, Gordon was once again my dedicated servant, and I was overjoyed to see him in obedient bliss. Finally, I pressed him slowly down indicating I wanted him to sit on the edge of the bed. I glanced around the room quickly, my eyes finally falling on what I was looking for.
A brand-new bottle of massage oil sat on top of the end table, its protective seal still uncompromised. I shuddered for a brief second at the thought of what happened the last time I soothed his skin after his punishment. Picking the bottle up, I twisted the cap off and removed the safety seal from underneath. I poured a generous portion into my hand before looking up at Gordon. Gesturing with my hand to turn around, Gordon complied without a word, lying face down in the center of the mattress. Before I touched his skin with my hands, I breathed onto the oil and rubbed my hands together slightly to warm it gently. Kneeling down next to him on the bed, my hands worked skillfully as I rubbed the soothing substance into his skin in small, circular movements. Gordon moaned softly into the comforter as I touched his assaulted skin. As I looked down at him and continued to provide him the aftercare he deserved, I smiled to myself. I was exactly where I longed to be at that moment.
-20-
I spent most of the night awake, staring at the ceiling. In the distance, I swore I could hear the waves crashing into the shore in intervals. Destructive energy breaking just off shore before rolling onto the coast, harmless and docile. That thought reminded me of my life. Turbulent at its peak, with periods of rest that were short-lived, at best. My mind was full of confusing thoughts. The sudden knowledge that not one, but two lives lived inside me ad received all of their protection and nourishment from me, had me on edge. Had it not been for the distraction of my evening with Gordon, I may have lost it completely.
Gordon also was tossing and turning. His eyes flitting back and forth in rapid succession behind closed eyelids. In the midst of a fitful dream, I imagined. I trained my eyes on him so I could see him more clearly, the darkness casting shadows on his features made it difficult to focus. His eyebrows were pulled together and were drawn down, pulling his forehead along for the ride. A quasi-scowl adorned is masculine face, causing me a little concern. At that moment, I silently wished that I could see inside his mind. It would definitely help me figure out what makes him tick. To reach into the dark recesses of a tormented soul, of course I would only do it to help nurture our fragile relationship. At least that would be my intention.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispered between my thoughts of a future with Gordon and our babies. Not so fast, Leila. It can’t possibly be that simple. Mysterious. Ominous. A flat out disruptive thought that echoed through my mind. It was my nature to look for the negative in all situations. Perhaps it was so I could mentally prepare myself or life’s inevitable disappointment. It didn’t really matter at that point. I forced the thought from my mind and tried to focus on something a little more manageable. Like, how in the Hell am I going to be able to handle one, let alone two babies. Somehow, I managed to drift off, embracing a fitful slumber along with Gordon.
When I awoke, the smell of bacon filled my nostrils. I could hear the faint sound of sizzling pig flesh as I swam towa
rd consciousness. Rubbing my eyes as I sat upright slowly, I had learned over the past few months to take my time rising after sitting or lying down for a long period of time, I stretched my arms over my head as I craned my neck toward the kitchen. Gordon stood in front of the stove, naked except for the apron he wore to protect, let’s face it, everything. He poked at the bacon in the pan with a pair of silicon tipped tongs. I watched him bend down to peer under the pan at the flame before adjusting it down a few notches to cook the bacon more slowly and evenly. As I stared across the penthouse at him, his gaze lifted toward mine.
A smile stretched across my face and the look I received in return was priceless. His eyes reflected the deep devotion and undying love he felt for me. When he let his gaze meet mine, I was filled with a warmth beyond explanation. No words could ever describe the yearning I felt for him. I was dancing on dangerous ground as we were both clearly and painfully smitten with each other. Was it love? Who really knows what that means? Sometimes I swear that love was that elusive goal, the one no one could ever really achieve. Most love was superficial, feeding off the need for heightened self-improvement but Gordon’s eyes did not translate to that level of emotion. He was all in, and I was getting there, every moment I spent in his company.
I glided toward him on a cloud of serenity as he continued to poke at what was clearly my breakfast. On the table across from the stove, against a partition to the “play area” Gordon had erected in my honor, he had set two place settings on opposite ends of the surface. Forks, knives and spoons rested in the appropriate location next to the china. In the center of the table, a smaller vase rested with a cluster of my favorite roses, baby’s breath stuck into the bouquet at random intervals to contrast against the dark petals. When I reached where he was standing, he jumped slightly upon my approach.
Leila: Goddess The Second Coming Page 15