The corset was very tight, almost too small for her frame.
Ethan laced her up all the same, using his strong arms to haul the laces taut; by the time he'd finished, she could barely breathe from the constriction.
He seemed not to care.
Jennifer's breasts were totally exposed; the garment offered no coverage or support of any kind, its whalebone and wire serving only to accentuate. It punctuated the space between her full breasts with a spike of satin and whalebone, with a small silver ring set atop this spike. Ethan threaded a chain through the ring, its ends affixed to cloverleaf clips clutching her swollen nipples.
She hissed at this painful pressure.
He rarely used clips on her, oddly enough they seemed most prevalent when they were likely to be in public settings, but she'd come to adore them. Somehow they made her feel raw and utterly sexual, something to be admired from afar. It felt right for him to adorn her so, with satin and silver, like some raw work of art, stripped of her value save as a canvas for his talents. Jen knew that Kami didn't care for them as much as she did, which was why Ethan used them to punish the redhead, rather than to please.
For her, though, they were clearly an indication of his interest.
Other than her platinum collar and the corset, she wore nothing save a pair Wolford thigh highs; the Vichy stockings were graced with slender sating strings that affected a means of staying up. Jen had seen them in her old life, had coveted them but never had a pair; when she'd come to Ethan's house, she'd made a point to acquire a pair.
Kami had asked much of her to get them.
But Ethan loved them, so the price hadn't been anything at all.
Her pussy was utterly exposed, and throbbed with the need for his caress. She'd waited for him to set clips on her there as well, hoping with held breath that he might adorn her with another clip. He seemed content, however, to leave her pussy in its more natural state of torment, simply tapping her erect clit a few times for effect, and then stepping away
This practice of tormenting her without granting her any satisfaction, however, seemed like it was going to be the norm for the length of their stay in Austin. It was a state she'd learned to endure. Before coming into her Master's service, she might have thrashed and wailed with the denied release, but his patience and his whips had taught her that she had no will of her own in these matters. If he wanted her to remain unfulfilled, then that was his decision, and her continued duty to please him was thusly best expressed by her maintaining that hunger at a near peak.
Jen watched him select her dress for the evening, searching his face for signs of the stormy passion she'd seen earlier.
As far as she could tell, his displeasure was gone, though she didn't know why. Some dark part of her that she wouldn't admit to knew exactly why he wasn't displeased any more, and she wondered if the woman from the airport wasn't lying in a hotel room somewhere, spent from her Master's efforts. Was that busty brunette even now running her hands over the red heat of her ass, savoring the spanking he'd surely have given her? Was her pussy sloppy with the leavings of his lust, slowly leaking out onto starched sheets as she lay there, spent from their passion?
He tugged at the ring on her collar gently. "Where were you just now?"
Jen marveled at his ability to see into her; she met his gaze for a moment, if only to show some spirit, and then lowered her eyes. "Thinking, my love."
"Of what, pet?"
"I was just wondering whether you'd been with that woman from the airport, whether she was the reason you're no longer angry with me."
He laughed, warming her with his obvious mirth. "Jennifer, off all the submissives I've trained, I must admit you alone have continued to display a profound sense of candor. Most other girls lose that over time."
Ethan stepped in close to her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His voice was a whisper. "You have not."
She shivered, "Is that a bad thing, Master?"
"I haven't decided yet."
His hand twined in the silver chain, briefly sending sheets of pain racing through her. Jen moaned and forced herself to remain still. She couldn't tell whether he was punishing her or rewarding her with this attention, only that the pleasurepain was making her very, very wet.
How funny that a mere second's worth of his idle twining could leave her so aroused! It meant nothing to him, and yet she was suddenly a wreckage of insatiable desire.
His wrist rotated farther, the aching song in her nipples began to drown out everything else.
She whimpered, not from the pain, but from the building delirium.
Seeing this, he twined the chain another half twist, and then, after a moment, stepped back, apparently satisfied that she'd been chastised / rewarded for her honesty. He turned back to the closet and took out a pair of dark heels, four inches high and opened toed.
"Put these on and then we can go."
As she took the shoes, Jen willed her mind not to fall into the trap of questioning whether he expected her to be seen in the public spaces of the Driskill in just a corset and stockings. And yet, as he returned an obviously elegant gown to the closet, she couldn't help herself.
"Am I not to wear a dress, Master?" She slipped into the heels knowing it was a terrible question to ask, that it would surely displease him, but she felt it needed asking all the same. They were not on his estate; this was the real world, where the state of her clothes could have real consequences.
Ethan frowned. "Turn around and put your hands on the dresser, Jennifer." His voice was very quiet in the evening's stillness.
Numbly she obeyed, wondering what he would do.
She heard the soft slippery sound of his belt being removed, and smiled to herself. She loved his belt, loved the way he often worked her breasts with it.
On some level she wondered if she provoked him on purpose.
And yet the first hit surprised her with its intensity, making her cry out in pain – real pain – as the stout leather wrapped itself around the curve of her ass.
This was not a toying hit, this was a real hit, an expression of anger.
He thrashed her quickly, scoring half a dozen hits on her in seconds. Speed was a specialty of his, she'd come to realize. Her knees buckled from the pain and she collapsed, tears running down her cheeks.
Ethan's breath was suddenly warm in her ear, "I don't know what it is about this trip that makes you especially determined to anger me. But rest assured it hasn't gone unnoticed."
Jen stifled a sob and turned to look at him. He grabbed a handful of her curls and pulled her head back sharply, "I have half a mind to sell you to my associates this weekend. Kami said I shouldn't take you, that you weren't ready. I told her she was being foolish. It seems she was right."
Kami had said what?!? That she wasn't ready?
The fact that he mentioned selling her didn't even really register at all. That would come later, much later, when it was too late.
She sobbed, "Please, Master, I meant no disrespect..."
"I wonder sometimes." His hand released her hair, fresh spikes of pain shooting down into her eyes; and with that, he stood. Jen shook her head to clear it, and struggled to her feet.
"Now bend over and grasp your ankles."
Jen could only comply, the ache from the whipping nothing compared with the realization that he thought so little of her behavior on this trip. It was a thing she still marveled at, how the desire to throw off her old life and become a sexual plaything had intersected with her unresolved feelings for Ethan. The two had smashed into one another, leaving her with a burning desire to win him for herself – and a sexual hunger for him that overwhelmed her.
To learn that he was unhappy with her made her want to cry.
She craved him so very much.
She loved him, really.
As he'd known she would, she realized with a start. He'd known what would happen when he forced her sexual hunger into the same space as her desire for him.
Jen bent at the waist, ignoring the way the corset constricted and pinched her, and grasped her ankles. She straightened herself, forcing her body to conform despite the discomfort, and looked straight ahead.
He knelt behind her, examining his work, his strong hands rubbing away the hurt in a matter of minutes, transforming the pain into a delightfully warm heat that soon restored her equilibrium.
"Don't you want to please me, Jen?"
How could he ask such a thing?
"Of course, Master, all I want to do is please you."
His breath was warm on the backs of her thighs, and she heard him inhale with satisfaction, breathing in the heady smell of her wet sex.
"So then why do you suddenly seem to crave the attentions of other men?"
He knew! Somehow he knew she craved the attention.
"No, Master, no, I don't, I swear." The words seemed false even as they left her mouth. She was so desperate to prove herself to him; she would have said anything to him at that point.
"You're lying to me," he said with a chuckle. She shivered and waited for the inevitable punishment to begin.
Ethan's tongue was suddenly warm and wet against her asshole, probing gently as it scored its way around the ripples of her bud. Jen mewled and pushed her ass back towards him, savoring the feeling.
He lapped at her, his palms on the descending sides of her pelvis, his fingers resting lightly atop her pubis, terribly close to her throbbing clit, but so very, very far away, pulling her closer to him. She wriggled with pleasure, confused at this sudden favor quickly losing herself in his touch. She wanted him so badly right then, could feel her pussy spasm with need every time his tongue flicked its way across the top of her bud. He chuckled at this and moved his index fingers up against her swollen labia, wrenching a whimper out of her as new sensations erupted from her pussy.
The contrast between the two was incredible, different sensations, equally staggering, yet varied in their intensity, complementing one another to drive her quickly into a minor frenzy.
"Fuck me," she grunted, surprising herself. She didn't usually ask such things, preferring to trust in his pacing. But the encounter at the airport and afterwards had left her so desperately hungry for fulfillment.
He laughed and pinched her swollen clit with his left hand, sending a spike of pleasurepain through her that made her see stars.
"You belong to me, only to me."
She almost let go from the intensity of that spike, but weeks of training had told her not to let go until he said so. Her curls thrashed about as her head expressed the distress the rest of her body felt.
