Unrestrained

by Joey W. Hill

  "Push your jeans and panties off and spread your legs wider, drape them over my knees. Lay your head back on my shoulder so your spine's arched."

  He withdrew his hand to let her remove the clothes but kept his strong arm around her waist, seeming to enjoy the wriggling it took her to obey the command. She dropped her head back on his shoulder, looking at the play of sunlight across her ceiling, filtered through the window. Her legs were spread wide, her knees hooked over his thighs, and she cried out as he pushed his hand between her ass and his groin, coming up between her legs to bury his fingers inside her cunt once more. They were hooked at just the right angle to drive her crazy. She was moaning in no time, rocking against his touch, bouncing a little, as much as the position permitted.

  "There she is, my hot and shameless girl. Push up your shirt and bra so I can see your nipples, how tight they are."

  She fumbled to obey, tugging on the underwire cups to get them over her breasts. When the garment was resting above them, beneath her chin, the restrictive feel of the band made her think of the breast bondage he'd done on her. His hot breath caressed the right breast because of where he had his jaw resting on her shoulder. The nipple beaded further, winning an approving hum from him. It was indescribably erotic, sprawled on his knees like this, her lower half naked, him masturbating her in front of her west-side gardens, in her kitchen.

  "Master . . . I'm so close . . . please."

  "Beg me pretty, and I might let you."

  "Please, Master. I'll do anything. Please let me come. I'm yours . . . I'll do anything for you . . . I want you to own all of me, every moment . . . every day . . ."

  Maybe he hadn't intended her to go that far, but once she started, she couldn't stop the flood of words. His arrival last night, refusing to let her hide anymore, then the shower and curling around her while she slept. Even the spanking and this torment now, it summoned the words from her, gushing forth the same way the orgasm bearing down on her now would. Irrefutable, undeniable.

  "I'm yours . . . please, Master."

  "Music to my ears," he growled. "Your cunt is sucking on my hand. You are my sweet slave, Athena. Aren't you?"

  "Yes, Master. I'm your slave. Always." In this moment she truly was, everything emotional and physical surrendered to his will.

  "Then come for me. Show me your obedience."

  She came so hard she almost blacked out, her vocal chords straining in one long yearning shriek. His fingers worked her throughout, his arm banded around her waist holding fast, no matter her involuntary struggles. She didn't come down until spots were scattered across her vision like a Dalmatian's coat, and she was clinging to his arm, panting.

  "There you are, dear girl. There you are. Shh . . ." He was rocking her like a baby, and she turned her face into his, pressing against his temple. She loved him. Yes, she'd been through too much, had loved another man too long, to be ready to say it aloud yet, but with her body, her clutch of her hands, she knew she was telling him.

  She loved him.

  He held her until the world evened out again, then he shifted her, held her steady while she stepped back into her jeans and underwear. He adjusted her bra and shirt himself, indulging the typical male desire to fondle her thoroughly first. He made her kneel between his feet, her hands placed on his knees.

  "So here's the deal," he said. "This week, I'm going to see you once a day. You wear a skirt every day, no panties. You keep the brush with you, because you won't know when or where I'll show up. When I do, I'll take us to a private place of my choosing. Once we're there, you'll lift your skirt and bend over. I'll give you your punishment. Each night, I'm going to call you at bedtime. I've left that butterfly vibrator I gave you in your nightstand drawer. You'll use it from the time I call you until I hang up, but you will not come. After five days of that, we're going to go to Release together. You will be going as my sub. My slave. On that day, I'll tell you what I want you to wear, how to prepare yourself. Understand?"

  "I won't . . . see you otherwise before then?" She couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice, even as the rest of her quaked at the itinerary he'd laid out. He touched her face.

  "We'll see. I want your mind in a certain place, Athena. This will get it there."

  "But I'll miss you."

  "And I'll miss you." He gave her a disparaging look. "A slave's punishment can sometimes be just as hard on the Master, remember? So don't pull this shit again."

  He sobered then, putting his hands over hers. "I think that therapist was right, and what happened at Release unlocked the things you've kept tamped down since Roy's passing. With your staff not due back until Monday, if I hadn't come to find you, you might have passed out from dehydration, fallen down the stairs; really hurt yourself."

  Color rose in her face. With her head much clearer, the logic was impossible to deny. She'd been irresponsible. What if something terrible like that had happened, and Lynn or Beth had been the one to find her on Monday? How could she do that to them? Or to Dale?

  He tightened his hands on hers. "Hey," he said quietly. "It's done. Don't beat yourself up about it. That's my job."

  The wry curl to his mouth made her feel a little better, but when she gave him a helpless look of apology, he shook his head, touched her face. "You feel things much deeper than you realize. You've held so much inside for so long, when you let it out, it can take you by surprise like that. You scared me, Athena," he admitted. "It pissed me off, how pale and shaky you were. I wanted to say to hell with it, bundle you up and make you live at my place where I can watch you all the time. It's the good and bad thing about the kind of Master I am. You're right. I am overbearing and overprotective. I'm not going to let up on this until I'm sure you won't put yourself back there again. That you'll trust me enough to turn to me when you need me."

  She understood that, but . . . "I liked waking up with you." She didn't want to be deprived of that for five whole days.

  "It was pretty great for me, too." He ran his knuckle over her cheek, tapped her chin once with it. "Trust that I know what I'm doing, all right?"

  She wanted to trust him for always. It was just never as easy as it sounded. She was already feeling nauseous about going back to Release on Friday.

  --

  She'd fantasized about being under a Master's full control, but as a practical woman, she realized such a thing was likely best left as a fantasy, the demands of her life being what they were. Over the next five days, Dale proved he was capable of coming pretty damn close to the fantasy, making it her reality in a way that had her mind going in lots of different directions.

  She was self-conscious about wearing no panties to the office that first day. It made her feel naked, particularly wearing a skirt. For the first two hours of the morning, she had to force herself to focus, since she found herself listening for his voice every five minutes. At nine-thirty, she gave herself a firm chastising and then redoubled her efforts on the presentation she was preparing, moving from that to a review of their CEO's progress report for the latest quarter. At ten o'clock her phone vibrated on her desk. Picking it up, she saw his text.

  Meet me in the basement, maintenance corridor. You'll be gone ten minutes.

  She shouldn't be surprised he already knew the layout of her building. Had he anticipated his SEAL training coming in handy for something like this? She suppressed a nervous snicker at the thought. He'd chosen a specific time block that wouldn't interfere with her ten thirty meeting, but it was close enough to it that when she faced her board she'd likely still be throbbing in multiple ways. Her Master was thoughtful and diabolical.

  She picked up her purse, since it contained the brush, and left the office at the quick march in her heels. As she breezed past Ellen's desk, she told her she had a short errand to run and she'd be right back. Her admin's bemused reaction wasn't surprising, since Athena was probably flushed as a fall apple.

  At this time of morning, the maintenance crew was dispersed through the building, only t
he dispatcher on the underground level, and his office was at the end of the hall. Dale was waiting at the entrance to the hallway. He nodded to her, unsmiling. At his gesture, she preceded him, quivering a little when he put his hand to her lower back. He stopped her at the fourth door on the hallway and opened it with his other hand, keeping her in the shelter of his body.

  It was one of the generator rooms, soundproof so the rumbling noise wouldn't impact other activities in the maintenance offices. He let go of her arm and locked the door behind them, sliding a device over the lock that appeared as if it would keep a key from turning the latch from the outside. Then he turned to face her and gave her a silent, expectant look. No greeting, nothing but that uncompromising stare and the crossed arms over his broad chest.

  Putting the purse on top of a piece of humming equipment, she removed the brush, handed it to him. Her gaze lowered as he took it from her fingers, her breath shortening as she unzipped the skirt. She let it slide down to her ankles. He guided her to a steel pole, made her grasp it with both hands. Sliding his arm around her, he pressed his palm to her abdomen, and pulled her out further, so she was bent over, holding on to the pole, her hip pressed into his upper thigh and hip bone.

  "Open up."

  She spread her legs before she realized he was talking about the yellow rubber ball he was holding, the one he'd taken from her desk that first time he'd visited. She turned rosy at her mistake, but before she could close her legs, he cupped her there. Her pussy was already so wet, two of his fingertips slid into her quivering tissues.

  "Good girl. My slave should always make herself accessible to her Master's cock, wherever he wants to put it. Now, open your mouth."

  The ball gag was put in place, stretching her lips as before, and then he proceeded. He gave her every bit as fierce a spanking with the brush as he had before, such that she was soon squealing against the gag, her fingers biting into the pipe. When he was done and she was breathless, blinking back the tears, he nudged her to an upright position. While he had her continue to hold the pole, he made her step back into her skirt and aligned it properly on her hips, zipping the side zipper. After he straightened her blouse over it, he curved that arm around her waist, pressing her back against him. Leaning into his strength, she watched as he produced a wet wipe packet from his pocket. He cleaned the dirt from the pole off each of her hands, his touch as gentle and careful as it had been brutal.

  He pressed his lips to her temple. "Day one, girl. I'll call you tonight. You sit as much as possible. I want you to suffer. Bad as you scared me, consider yourself lucky I didn't send you one of those wooden school chairs to sit on all week, instead of that cushy office chair you put your pretty ass into each day."

  He opened the door and checked the corridor before escorting her back to the entrance of the hallway. He left her there with a nod, a press of her arm beneath his firm hand. Clutching her purse, she stared after him, striding across her lobby. The scattering of women all gave him a second look. Though most of the men passing through her lobby wore suits and ties, Dale didn't need any such fabrication of power. It emanated off the fit man in his dark jeans and T-shirt and commanded attention, likely inspiring all sorts of female fantasies. She tried not to begrudge them that, since he was actually part of her reality. But good heavens, the man had an arm.

  Back in her office and sitting in her "cushy chair," she found herself wondering how much worse the wood would have been, given her ass felt as if it had been pummeled. He'd be doing this every day this week. The same thought that evoked trepidation also kept her pussy soaked, such that she had to go into her private restroom several times to dry herself. The sensitive petals screamed for her to rub them, to bring her some relief, but she restrained herself, remembering her Master's orders.

  Denial just made the desire worse, which he'd made clear was his intent. She'd wear skirts with liners the rest of the week, and keep the box of tissues at her desk so she could put some between her legs while in her office by herself, to staunch the near-constant flow of arousal.

  After making that prudent mental note, she gathered up her files and headed for her meeting. She felt like a fish floundering against a heavy, sensual current, threatening to sweep her away.

  --

  That night, the phone rang at ten, twelve hours after the spanking. Would he be that prompt every night? She expected not. He'd scramble the times to keep her off balance. Like he wasn't already excelling at that. When she answered, touching her hands-free piece at her ear, her mind was already locked into the place he wanted her to be.

  "Yes, Master."

  "Are you in your bedroom?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Take off everything, put the vibrator on yourself and lie spread eagle on the bed, legs out as wide as they can go."

  Spreading her legs pressed the clit stimulator even more firmly against her. The first hum of it made her jerk.

  "So tell me about your day, Athena. Not just your meeting. Everything you did from the time you got up until I called you just now. In detail."

  She worked her way through her schedule, but of course he wouldn't leave it there. He asked her questions, making her think through her impressions of people, how she felt about those scenarios, the dynamics involved. All things she might volunteer herself, if she wasn't losing her mind a thousand brain cells at a time, like lemmings jumping a cliff.

  She stumbled and stuttered, gasped, and he patiently kept her on track, sharpening his tone when needed. It became all about pleasing him, and somewhere along the way, she completely let go of herself, immersed in arousal and his voice, answering his demands.

  "I'm . . . I'm close, Master. I don't think I can . . . stop."

  "Stop the vibration."

  She did, with shaky, uncoordinated fingers, and returned her hands to the rails of her headboard, where she'd been clinging, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to come.

  "Good girl. We're done for tonight. You remember to keep your hands away from what's mine."

  "Yes sir." She wanted him to keep talking to her, needed something from him, but she didn't know what. What he gave her helped.

  "I love you, Athena. Sweet dreams."

  --

  The simple, straightforward way he said it made her cry for some reason. Being so fiercely aroused made a woman emotional, for sure, but it was also because she now knew how deeply he meant it. Dale was a man of commitment. He didn't make promises he didn't keep, and he knew I love you was the biggest promise a man could offer a woman.

  I hope you get to feel what you've given me. Had this been what Roy meant? If so, the love of the husband departed and the lover present were enough to overwhelm her. She almost didn't get out of bed the next day. She was still aroused, yes, but other emotions were churning inside her as well. She wasn't due at the office, so she worked in the garden and prepared herself for a tea with several women from the Junior League, another planning meeting for the spring festival.

  She was glad Dale had persuaded her to call Lynn and ask her to come back to work before Monday. Okay, well, he'd ordered her to do it, stating he wanted someone around the house with her during the day until he was sure she was solidly on her feet again. She was, enough to resent being treated like a child, but understanding his worry enough to capitulate with grace to the overbearing request . . . this time.

  Now, though, she found herself grateful for the companionable chatter with her housekeeper as they set the table in the gazebo and she arranged cut flowers in a vase. Her mind slid to her first meet with Dale there. The way she'd gone to her knees beside him right where Lynn was standing. She'd taken food from his hand.

  He'd said he loved her.

  Intense BDSM practices like the spanking were so incredibly physical it could leave a woman's soul feeling a wistful twinge, a craving for the emotional. By cleaning her hands after the spanking, by leaving her with a statement of his love last night on the phone, he weighted the scale firmly back on the side of her hea
rt. With each punishment, he was also helping her reconcile what had happened at the club, tipping the scales away from her fixation on that and instead on what they could have together. At least she sincerely hoped that was what was happening. Trust and faith. That's what he'd asked of her, and she was trying, day by day.

  After the tea with the ladies, she did her workout, a hundred laps in her pool. Usually she donned her functional one-piece for that. But teetering all day on a sharp edge of arousal, trying to predict when Dale would next appear, she was a creature of pure sensuality. It didn't matter if he arrived now or three hours from now. She wanted to dress as if her Master might come to her at any moment, and when he did, she wanted to give him a reason to linger. Maybe test his control a little bit. The idea gave her a spurt of wicked mischief.

  The bikini was a sea green color that picked up the green in her eyes. The first time she'd worn it, Roy had reacted like a randy teenage boy, a gratifying and memorable response. The straps crisscrossed over the sternum so her breasts were lifted and pressed together, the deep cleavage drawing the male eye. The bottoms were a Brazilian cut with several horizontal strands of beads dangling low over the crotch. When she looked at herself from multiple angles in the mirror in the pool house, she saw the bottoms hitched high enough to display the faint bruising of her buttocks from her Master's punishment. She wanted to show them off like a brand of ownership, and she guessed that was what they were.

  She started her laps. On the twenty-fifth, she noticed the light on her phone. She came to the edge, looked.

  I'll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Be ready.

  He'd texted that eight minutes ago. She responded:

  I'm in the pool house, Master.

  Then she called the kitchen to let Lynn know he'd be arriving but wouldn't need an escort. He knew where the pool house was.

  She did five more laps to burn off the nervous energy, then left the pool and padded over to her towel. She started, seeing him leaning in the doorway, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, his gaze sliding over her like his hands. Firm, proprietary. She stopped in the act of reaching for the towel because he shook his head, crooked his finger at her.