Lenore looked away and Carlos gave her a little shake. "Answer me! You said you would do anything for me, and you're going to; starting with telling me the fucking truth! You want to be whipped, don't you?"
She met his eyes but could not answer.
"You can't answer? Then I'll answer for you. I'll take you to that stable and I'll whip you until you can't stand!" He laid his hand on her chest and he smiled. "Your heart is beating like a scared little bunny. Because you want that, don't you?"
"Yes." It came out as a whisper although it felt like she'd shouted.
"What else? What else did he make you do that you pretended you didn't like?"
Lenore shook her head. "Nothing."
Carlos smiled and for a strange moment he somehow looked exactly like Master James. "Then tell me what he made you do that you really hated. The thing that you despised more than anything, the thing that humiliated you more than anything else because that is the thing that I will make you do."
Lenore bit down on her lip. "I can't."
Carlos' eyebrow rose. "You can't?"
"No."
"You don't want a master, do you Lenore? You just want someone to fuck you once in a while, not someone who controls you, someone who owns you. You don't want me then, because I am a Master, not just some hired man."
"No. Carlos, I love you!"
"Then you will tell me the truth. You will admit it to me. Even if you never admitted it to him you will look me in the eye and you will tell me. There was nothing he made you do that you didn't like, was there? You wanted all of it!"
Lenore clenched her hands, harder and harder until her nails bit into her palms. She looked into Carlos' eyes, wondering for a moment if she could really do this, if she could tell him the truth. So many different emotions swirling in his eyes ... one in particular she could plainly identify. Love.
"I like being forced to be with women," she blurted out.
He smiled a little. "Forced?"
"Well, I wouldn't ever do it on my own, and I wouldn't like it if you weren't into watching, but I like it."
"And why is that such a big deal? Why was it so hard to say that?"
"Because if I say I like it ... I don't know. I never told James. I didn't want him to know. It's embarrassing, and it was never like I would have rather had a woman than him, it's just ... it feels like it's dirty and it's wrong, and that makes it exciting."
Lenore looked away, uncertain if she was ashamed or relieved that she'd told him.
Carlos' large hand gently cupped her chin, turning her head to face him. "And now that you've admitted the truth there is something we need to get out of the way. I won't spend another day worrying if I can do this. I won't. It's time to find out if this is going to work. Me, you. Us"
His eyes darkened. "Get up."
"Why?"
He pushed her roughly from his lap. "Is that what you are supposed to do? Ask why? No, you are supposed to do as you are told, do you understand?"
Lenore trembled with a potent blend of fear and excitement. "Yes ... yes, Sir."
Carlos stood, towering over her, his face stern. "You lied. You lied to Mr. James, and you lied to me. Now you will pay for your lies. We're going to the stable. You're going to be whipped for your lies, do you understand?"
Lenore's legs shook the entire way to the stable. The stone walk was ice cold beneath the soles of her feet. It was a chilly morning; the sun hadn't yet risen over the hill.
Carlos' eyes were like black pits in the dim lighting of the stable. He roughly turned her around, facing the wall and she felt a little twinge of fear. She didn't like the idea of not being able to see him. He'd said he liked to see her face, to kiss her, to see her come ... except that that was not what they were here for. He was going to punish her ... whip her.
He attached the leather cuff around her wrist confidently. His movements were unhurried and calm, so much like Master James had always been. He leaned against her, the heavy weight of his body at her back crushing her to the stable's cold rough wall. When her other wrist was secured, he shoved her legs apart with his knee and she heard the click of the manacles that James had long ago attached to the wall, down near the floor. She tried turning to look over her shoulder at him, but she was tethered too closely to the wall.
While James had used the crop on her, he usually did not bind her.
Carlos was much bigger than James, and probably three times as strong. She'd never felt a blow from the crop delivered by his hand, and she was aware that he could hurt her severely if he chose to.
She couldn't hear him doing anything. She wondered if he had the crop in his hand, what was he doing? Then suddenly he was there, his hand slipping beneath her hair, pushing it forward over her shoulder, exposing her back and her butt completely to him and to the crop he held tightly in his hand. She couldn't see it, but she knew he held it because she felt him touching her with it, softly dragging it over the curve of her hip, across her ass, and up her back.
"I've dreamt of this," he said in a hushed voice. "This voice in my head always tells me that this is what you need."
She didn't know why, but she did need it. More than she'd ever needed it or wanted it before, she needed to be whipped by Carlos.
"Hit me," she whispered.
"What did you say?" he snarled in a voice she'd never heard him use. There was nothing timid about his tone.
"Hit me, Sir."
The first strike across her back caught her by surprise, and she pressed her body tightly against the wall in front of her, recoiling from the sting. The next three were rapid and they lashed at her ass.
He stopped for a moment and caressed the welts lovingly and she pushed back against his hand seeking more of his caress.
"You haven't earned my touch," he said coolly. "Not yet." His breathing was ragged.
Carlos backed away from her and she knew he had only begun. Each time the crop fell she pressed forward to the wall, her ass soon blazed with pain and there were no more tender caresses to soothe it, only more harsh strikes from the crop.
Carlos was not James, and James had never whipped her this way. No this long, not this hard. Carlos was in control; whatever he thought in his mind about James being inside of him, it was Carlos' hand that wielded that crop. Carlos was her Master. Carlos was taming her. She was bare and she was powerless, she was the property of Carlos Ortiz and she was completely at his mercy.
She was a nothing, no longer James Acheson's wife, only a beaten, humiliated woman tethered in the stable being whipped by the hired man. Lenore lost count of the blows and lost all sense of time. The sting turned into a red glow that she could see behind her closed eyes, until the entire stable lit up with a brilliant fire beneath her eyelids, like the surface of the sun. Carlos was the sun.
She writhed against the wall, no longer recoiling from the sting, but seeking it, her body asking her Master for more.
Carlos was the sun. He was her Master.
"I belong to you," she whispered. "I love you, Master Carlos."
She felt him behind her. His body felt cool against the heat of her back. "Lenore," he sighed softly, his breath caressing her neck. "I love you more than life."
He released her from the restraints and she fell heavily against him. Belonging. There was the feeling that she recognized, the feeling that she needed, that she loved. Her skin was on fire, her pussy was dripping, and she had been mastered, mastered by the hired man.
EPILOGUE
Carlos ordered another beer, feeling strangely at ease. The little bar was crowded, people shoulder to shoulder. He wondered what the appeal of being here was for Santiago, especially if he loved this woman he had. Why not be alone with her than be here in a smoky, dimly lit room so loud that it was impossible to carry on an intimate conversation?
He glanced over at Lenore. Not his boss. Not Ms. Lenore. His Lenore. His wife. Her dress was short and low cut, revealing a generous portion of her shapely legs and a whole lot of cleavage. O
ther men looked; let them look. She was his in a way that no other woman would ever be his, and in a way that she would not be for any other man but him.
Santiago was late. They'd got his truck running earlier in the day and he was supposed to be here with his girlfriend by now.
Lenore had driven them here in her little blue Lexus. There were probably many men who would have felt insecure to be driven in an expensive car by a woman in expensive clothes when they owned as little as Carlos did. However, Carlos owned the most important thing of all. He owned the woman in the expensive clothes behind the wheel of that car.
There were woman who would have been offended to be owned. Fortunately for him, Lenore was not one of those women.
For all the talk he'd once heard of America, he would have never imagined that life would ever be this way. In his wildest dreams never did a man like Henry Blevens call him Mr. Ortiz, or a woman like Lenore call him Sir.
Carlos picked up his beer and took a long drink listening to the music. He watched Santiago crossing the floor, his hand clutching that of a tall blonde woman. She was older than Carlos guessed that she would be, but pretty, much prettier than Dot. She did not compare to Lenore in any way, although there was something about her that reminded him of Lenore – her walk. Elegant. She had that kind of walk that oozed class, just like his Lenore had.
Lenore turned her head, staring at the woman as they approached the bar. Carlos wasn't sure if Santiago had told his girlfriend what was going to happen but the two women shared a long strange look between them.
He sensed the nervousness they both radiated, but despite Lenore's trembling, he was positive that she was aroused as he was right now. Possibly more, judging by the hunger in her eyes.
Santiago's girlfriend leaned towards him and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Her black silk dress was low-cut, and she wore no bra. He couldn't help but notice her breasts as she bent forward. Between them she wore a gold chain dangling from two rings attached to her nipples.
She smiled at Lenore, who looked more nervous than he thought she would.
"Hi, Lenore. I'm Denali," the woman said softly.
* * *
[Chris Hal1]She gagged with what? Pain? Discomfort? Surprise?
[Chris Hal2]"Who didn't know" is kind of confusing. It sounds like they were unsure about whether a woman was crying over a picture of herself.
[Chris Hal3]Confusing. There should be some indication that she's talking about the inside lights being off. Otherwise, it seems strange to talk about the glow of the outside lights.
[Chris Hal4]Continuity: Why is she referring to Dot in her mind? What did Dot and she do?
[Chris Hal5]NEVER seen this as a noun before. Some other choice?
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
Mastered by the Hired Man Page 15