A gasp escapes her before she can stop it, and she moves her eyes away from him. He is the most handsome man she has ever seen, straight jaw and strong features, with eyes that left an impression even after a mere second. Somehow, his black hair pulled back in to a long pony tail only seems to make him look that much more masculine. And intimidating.
"Krasny." He whispers, and even though he is half way across the room, Savannah feels the sensual word seeping in to her skin, caressing her. Her eyes lift back to him of their own accord. He is much closer now, close enough to touch. Though he has the same looking tattoos as the shadow people, he seems human. Closer to a God, truly, but more human than them.
"Do you understand me?" He says with a thick accent. He is the first of her captors to speak English to her, although she is not surprised. He holds himself differently than the shadows, and they cower beneath his gaze. Savannah manages to nod in answer, but cannot find her voice to speak.
"I am Thanatos, and you belong to me now. Try to escape, and I will saw off both your legs and feed them to the Night Walkers." He comes closer to her and places one hand gently under her chin, lifting her face to his. His tenderness does not match with his threats, and the tone of his voice is deadly. "Do you understand me?" He asks again. Savannah cannot tell if he is angry or not, but when he repeats the question she nods in assurance, certain it is best not to test him. He nods to her, seeming to have made a decision. He reaches up to her chains and releases her aching wrists. Savannah falls to the floor in a heap of limbs and fabric. She looks up to see him watching her, a curious look on his face. He appears to be studying her.
Trying her best to put on a brave face, Savannah slowly rises to her knees, then pushes herself up to her feet. Her head spins strangely, her breath comes in shallow gasps. Knees wobbling, she straightens herself and locks gazes with the striking man. Thanatos, he said? The personification of death, if she remembered correctly. And she does not doubt it. Looking at him, his strength and seriousness was not lost on her. This was a man you did not want to anger.
Is that why he was with the shadow people? Because he controls them? And why not? If he is death incarnate, it would make sense for demons to be his followers. What had he called them? Night Walkers. Only they did not walk in the night, they moved with it, making it come alive.
"Come." Thanatos orders, curling a large finger towards her. Savannah takes one tentative step forward, but her legs cannot carry her, and she crumples to the ground. For the first time she realises how tired she is. She struggles to keep her eyes open, but she does not attempt to stand again, it would be pointless.
The large man sighs above her, and then leans down to gather her in his arms. He lifts her effortlessly, cradling her small body close to his much larger one. Like being held by granite, she thinks. His toned muscle presses against her. She inhales his purely masculine scent. Please be here to save me, she prays. Though she knows it is in vain. Thanatos. She belongs to him now? Not if she has anything to say about it.
~~
She was not what he had expected. He wasn't sure what they were looking for, but for all this time, for it to be a girl...And not just any girl. No, the most beautiful he had ever seen. Even with dirt covering every inch of her body, with blood in her hair, hiding her face. With pain in her eyes and bruises all over her tattered frame, her beauty could not be denied. The curves of her body were prominent, and he wanted nothing more than to touch them.
"Beautiful." Thanatos said, before he could stop himself. She looked at him then, fear plain in her eyes. But another emotion was there, one he was not expecting to see. Determination. So much about her was surprising. What had Pecks said? She was human. The only human language he knew was English. "Do you understand me?" He asked, inwardly cringing at the difficulty of speaking this tongue after such a long time of talking only to the shadow born.
The girl nodded before her head slumped back down, but she never tore her eyes from him. They were so blue he almost lost his breath in their intensity. Never had he seen pools that deep, color that vibrant. His own eyes were black, lifeless, the same black as his hair. The same black as the shadow people's skin. Black like their hearts, like his heart should be.
But seeing this girl, beat to a point where she would be unrecognizable to her own family, forcing her body to stand in front of him...He cannot help but feel something towards her. Not sympathy, no, never that. But recognition of some kind. Appreciation even. He sees her strength, even as he sees her many weaknesses.
She shifts under his gaze, resting her weight on one leg. The movement causes the shredded night dress she wears to move, the fabric catching between her legs to show a creamy white thigh. Skin of porcelain. Skin he wants so badly to taste...
"Come," he beckons. The girl hardly hesitates, and instead takes one step towards him before falling to the ground. It is only then he realises how serious her injuries truly are. He sees her heaving on the stone floor and throws an angry glare at the walkers around him. They creep backwards, further in to the shadows. Thanatos reaches down and lifts the girl up in to his arms. She weighs close to nothing, her body feels fragile. For a moment he feels the desire to crush her to him, to see how hard he can squeeze her before she breaks. He imagines her screams filling the basement, echoing off the stone walls. There is a growing tightness in his groin as he realises the screams he wants to hear are of a different nature entirely.
The girl shifts in his arms and breathes in, causing her breasts to rub against his skin tauntingly. He takes on hand from under her and brings it to her chest, sufficiently holding her light weight with one arm. His free hand cups one plump breast, feeling the weight of it. The generous globe is soft and weilding in his palm, and he tweaks the nipple with strong, able fingers. She shifts again. She has passed out. But when she awakes, Thanatos grins, his fun will begin. A most wonderful surprise indeed.
The End.
Not a Good Day
As soon has she had him naked and secured his hands behind him she made him kneel in the centre of the room and went to get the phone. He kept his head bowed while she dialled.
"Ask for Mary," she said, holding the phone to his ear, "explain to her why I need you punished."
"Yes Mistress."
She pulled a chair up beside him and leant forward so she could hear the conversation. The phone rang four times and was picked up, "Club Taboo, you are speaking to Clarissa, how may I help?"
"Ah, can I, can I please speak to Miss Mary?"
"Let me see, hold on a minute while I see if Mary is available. Who shall I say is calling?"
"Ahh, ah, Miss Robertson's, ah, um, Fucktoy."
"OK, Fucktoy, I think she is busy but I'll check and let you know when she can call you back."
He could sense her smile. He thought he knew Clarissa, one of the University students that the Club employed on reception, a plump girl with a blonde bob and very bright red lipstick. She usually wore low-cut sleeveless dresses to show off a rose tattoo across one shoulder. The phone was silent, there was no hold music. If you rang Club Taboo it was up to you to entertain yourself while you waited. His heart was pounding as the silence dragged on.
"No, sorry, Fucktoy, Mary is busy this morning; if you give me your number she will ring you at midday. May I ask what you want to talk to her about, Fucktoy?"
His Mistress, listening, smiled grimly and pinched his nipple hard, nodding, Mary really was very good.
"Yes Miss. Ah, um, Miss Robinson caught me with, um, a.." the twisting of his nipple got worse, "girlie magazine and she wants Miss Mary to punish me."
His Mistress pinched his nipple painfully. "Severely."
"OK, Fucktoy, I'll tell her you need to be punished for wanking and she'll call you back."
"Well I wouldn't say..." but the receptionist had hung up, the smile in her voice almost becoming a chuckle.
His Mistress sat up and took the phone away from his ear.
"Midday then. I have things to do so you b
etter hold the phone."
She left him kneeling and went off to their play room. She came back with his collar, ankle cuffs and some chain. His hands were locked to the ring in the front of his collar and his ankles locked together and chained to the ring at the back. The chain was short enough to keep his back pulled up straight and the collar from pressing on his throat. She put the phone into his hands.
"Don't drop it. Mary won't be happy if you miss the call and I won't be picking it up for you."
She left him to wait then suddenly she was back and dropped the magazine she had found in the recycling in front of him.
"Something for you to look at while you wait."
He stared at the magazine. His name was clear on the address label. Behind the label a girl in matching lacy black bra and bikini bottoms stared back with a slightly questioning expression. She was pretty enough but nowhere near worth the trouble he was in. He sighed.
The wait was interminable. There was no clock in the room so he had no idea how time was passing. Occasionally he heard his Mistress moving around the house, working he supposed. The phone was awkward with his hands locked together at his throat. He couldn't see the keypad and worried he would hang up instead of answering. His knees and ankles were aching after so long kneeling on the wooden floor.
When the phone rang he jumped and very nearly dropped it. He fumbled it with his heart racing and his hands suddenly sweaty.
"Is Fucktoy there, please?" came Mary's deep amused voice.
"Yes, Miss, sp..speaking."
The phone felt very slippery. His Mistress had come into the room and sat on the couch watching him intently.
"So. You want to tell me about your wanking."
It was a statement more than a question.
"Well, n..not as such. My Mistress found a...a girly magazine." He said looking at his Mistress frowning at him.
"A girly magazine. What a quaint way of putting it." Mary was frankly laughing now. "So you've been caught with a wank-mag and she wants you punished."
"It wasn't..."
"Excuses and explanations. We don't need them do we, Fucktoy? You've been thinking about playing with yourself over some dirty magazine and your Mistress wants you punished."
"Yes, Miss.... severely." His Mistress nodded.
"Good. When?"
"Um. Ah. As soon as you can," he said looking at his Mistress for approval. She nodded.
"OK. I'm booked up for today."
His heart sank as he thought of waiting.
"But then it shouldn't take too long, should it? I think the best thing for fucktoys who can't control themselves is to be caned. Don't you?
He said nothing.
"Don't you Fucktoy?"
"Yes Miss."
"Good. We're agreed then. I like it when you agree with me. What's the most you've had before?"
"Ah, um, eighteen miss. I think."
"Oh, Fucktoy, you are funny. Think again. I'm sure I remember giving you twenty-four at least once. Shall we call it a nice round thirty today so you have something easy to remember when I ask next time. Does that sound good to you?"
"Ah... yes Miss." he was shaking badly with a mix of terror and excitement.
"How many strokes was that, Fucktoy?"
"Thirty, Miss."
"Good. Do you think that will hurt, Fucktoy?"
"Yes Miss." He was almost breathless.
"Good. You see, I do like it when you agree with me. Don't worry, I will make very sure it hurts. Your Mistress can bring you in whenever she is ready and I'll thrash you after my last client at about six. I look forward to it. So should you."
She hung up.
He passed on the message to his Mistress with his voice shaking and as he held out the phone to her to put away, he dropped it. She unfastened his hands and feet and indicated his clothes, left over the back of the couch when she had made him undress. Immediately his heart started pounding and the breath was sucked out of him.
He had been in his cleaning dress all morning and that was what she was pointing at. For months she had been threatening to make him go out in public in some of his women's clothes. It had been terrifying to think of in the indefinite future and now it seemed to be happening he was almost in shock. Hesitantly he picked up the lacy white knickers and matching bra and pulled them on. He had had the bra for only a few weeks. It had proper prosthetic breasts that matched his skin tone and looked surprisingly real. His Mistress watched.
"Before we go out you had better tape that thing down. Properly."
He went over to the drawer in the big sideboard and rummaged around for the strapping-tape, glad to have something to do with his shaking hands. Finally he found it and tore off strips in the familiar routine. He took down his knickers, ran the strips of tape from his belly over his pubic hair, pulling his cock tightly down between his legs and taping over it, finishing off between his buttocks. When he had finished and pulled his knickers up it did look like a passable imitation of a woman's mons under the lace. The skin colour of the tape meant it didn't show through the sheer fabric.
He put on the button-through cleaning dress and did up its front. It was pale blue with a wide white collar low cut front that showed the new silicone breasts against his shaved chest. He stepped into the moderately heeled blue shoes that matched the dress and waited. His Mistress went to find a wig and came back with a dark pageboy that she slipped over his short greying hair and held in place with hair clips. She stepped back to look, then held his chin to put some pastel pink lipstick on him. Dressed like that with the wig, his arms, legs and body shaved and his slight frame he did have a very feminine look.
"Good," she said, "Very nice. I'm looking forward to seeing my pretty girl getting thrashed within an inch of her life to remind her to keep her little hands off nasty, dirty magazines."
He stood in front of her with his head bowed, knowing it was pointless to try to explain; it would only make things worse. There was nothing he could do to avoid his humiliation and beating. His mouth was dry with fear, and excitement made his cock strain under its layer of tape. He followed her out across their lawn to the garage keeping his head down and hoping that no one would see him, even though he was sure his Mistress was going to show him off deliberately in a minute.
He drove them out of their street, through the collection of shops in the centre of the suburb then down the hill and through the tunnel into town. She had him park under the raised section of the motorway by the Terrace which meant it was at least a ten minute walk through town to the club. As he got out of the car to open the door for his wife his legs shook so much that walking was difficult. Even as he stood holding the door for her his knee was trembling uncontrollably and he was breathing hard. As he closed the door she took his hand and held it tightly without saying anything. She knew he was terrified, she had seen how he had reacted every time she had suggested being seen in public in women's clothes. Always before she had worried it would be too much for him and had tried to think of a way of breaking him in gently but today she was too angry to care much. She was happy to drop him in the deep end and see how he coped. Serve him right. Even so she held on to his hand.
He helped her into her jacket, locked the car, and they set off down the narrow path with the steps that led under the Terrace. As they came out of the narrow tunnel into the steep little alleyway of Woodward St she felt his hand tighten its grip as he braced himself. Luckily for him the street wasn't very crowded but still he kept his head down so as not to catch anyone's eye. The tape around his crotch meant he couldn't walk fast but he was practiced enough in the low heels so that it looked fairly natural. She kept hold of his hand and looked at people as they passed to see their reaction. Most people were too busy with their own affairs to pay much attention. Every now and again she caught an odd look but the people looked away quickly when they saw her looking back. Only one young woman, in very high red heels and a long black dress frankly stared and kept looking as they passed. She ra
ised an eyebrow and gave her a smile and the girl's mouth opened slightly as she smiled back, blushing. If he noticed this interaction, he gave no sign. He kept his head down and held tightly to her hand.
On Lambton Quay one of her colleagues was walking purposefully towards them, caught sight of her and came up to talk.
"Hello Catherine, how is it going?" she asked.
"Good. Good," his wife said, "I've been meaning to catch up with you about your restructure."
"Sure, this week is pretty much gone but sometime next week? I think first thing on Tuesday is clear."
"OK, when I get back to my desk this afternoon I'll get Sal to give your PA a call. I think Tuesday should be fine. But it is going well?"
"Pretty well. The first round is over and we are recruiting for the third tier now."
"Well don't poach any of my people. But sorry, I had better get a move on now if I'm going to make my two o'clock."
"OK, good to see you, I hope we can catch up on Tuesday."
While she was talking to his wife the woman had looked at him curiously a few times but had not seemed especially surprised. The two women kissed each other on the cheek and they all moved briskly off down the Quay in their separate directions.
"Does she know about me?" he asked.
His wife shrugged, "Never said anything but she keeps her ear to the ground so maybe she has heard something. I wouldn't be surprised. I must ask her to dinner and show you off. We could let her see your arse after this evening's thrashing so she can see how I'd like to keep my team in line." She laughed, "She probably guesses."
As they went down the Quay he held his head up a little more. He caught a few stares and blushed but didn't look down. Once a group of office girls smoking outside their building all looked together then turned to each other giggling and he managed not to flinch.
On the narrower footpaths on Willis St people seemed more concerned about not walking into them in amongst the building work than staring and as they got close to the Club in Cuba St it was his wife's elegant and obviously expensive grey dress that was attracting the odd looks from the dreadlocked and pierced passers by.
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 115