The setup had all the elements for a perfect life "do-over." Having convinced her to leave history behind, he had offered the fresh start of lottery winning proportions. His beginning rules had drawn her into a scenario of security and protected peace. Now as she paced the floor waiting on his arrival, the developing intricate web of requirements seemed designed for her torment.
The boutique was on a quiet street in the small town. He referred to it as his investment. She'd seen the future unfolding with a discreet and growing client list. He capitalized on her personable customer service abilities and his shrewd prudence in business decisions. Together, they were developing the store's reputation, serving discriminating high end shoppers. His was a silent role. No customer knew of his involvement, nor the suppliers or vendors. To the rest of the world, she was the independent mastermind of an exclusive adult store. To him, she was a slave.
Initially, the deal she'd struck with a vendor seemed perfect. The excitement was short lived. The vendor had needed the contract signed immediately. She was supposed to clear any binding agreements with her not so silent Master partner. He was furious. The crisp tone spoke volumes when he told her to expect him.
So now she paced the floor of her apartment. Her living quarters too spoke of opposing roles. The main floor was her domain, decorated in her own fashion. Heirlooms and cozy furniture existed in harmony. The bedroom was soft purples and romantic soft cottons. The kitchen was warm reds and greens. The textures teased the senses. The ambiance was inviting, except for a door to the basement. Dark and somber, it sported an old fashioned lock for which she had no key. Her pacing pattern covered the entire apartment as she waited for him, yet her movement avoided that particular door. Her eyes vigilantly avoided even the look of it. As often as he had led her blindfolded down its stairs for his pleasure, he'd instilled in her a fear for those stairs should he ever find need to punish her.
He saw the fright in her eyes when he arrived. A slow smile grew on his face as he drank in the fear flowing through the room, and saw the exploding anxiety within her. She was watching him. He knew this without actually following her gaze. Instead, he reigned in his anticipation, striving to remain calm as he removed his coat and gloves to place them carefully on the back of a dining room chair. Catlike movements, gentle and terrifying, took him into the main room.
His judgment was swift. "The attorney will be eliminating the contract. At a price." The fact that he was smiling multiplied her fear. "You will pay him. He will be here in an hour and you will be waiting for him downstairs. He will use you as he wants, extracting his pay. Do what he says." The last line was almost flippant. Not allowed to look directly at him, she missed the trace of humor dancing across his face.
He walked into the bedroom and proceeded to open each drawer of the dresser. The inspections always calmed her, as she was careful to the details he'd outlined. He expected nothing short of perfection in organization and neatness. That requirement had invoked a sense of pride and accomplishment each time she dressed, knowing everything was in place as he wanted. The discipline served him as well. He knew everything she owned, and nothing would be hidden from him. In the bottom drawer was the blindfold he sought.
Sense of sight withdrawn, he ushered her onto the landing, and then down the stairs into the cold basement. High heels made her movements awkward, her fear creating a shiver he could feel rippling through her body. He no longer had to hide his excitement. Even as he began lecturing her, the error deciding on a contract without his approval, he let himself relax in the pure joy of her terror. He left her standing at the foot of the stairs. He let himself laugh as her body jerked to the sound of the hard wooden chair being dragged across the floor.
He made quick work of securing her to the chair. When he was done, her wide thighs were straddled across the seat, ankles bound through the legs of the chair creating a bowlegged effect, the high heels aggravating the strain of her calves. He'd found the stockings and garter to be a complimenting effect, but left her breasts uncovered to dangle as he secured her back parallel to the floor. Her breathing had grown erratic and the sheen of terrorized sweat was evident all over her body. The cold air of the basement made her shivering worse and the total effect was making her shake so badly the chair legs rattled on the stone floor.
"You'll have time to contemplate your mistake. He'll be here shortly. Enjoy, slave, what is about to come to you."
Total abandonment. She heard his soft steps head upstairs, heard him check her answering machine and gather his coat before closing the door. The silence was as unnerving as his presence had been, maybe worse. Her mind was frantic. Waves of regret over her mistake poured over fear of punishment only to be washed aside by the underlying pain of having disappointed her Master. She tried unsuccessfully to control the shivering. Her teeth began to chatter. Willing herself not to shed tears, she fought for some reasonable consciousness, some ability to control her body and thoughts. Bound naked and in growing pain over a wooden chair in the basement of her home anticipating the arrival of a stranger she was expected to obey, there was still a determination to remain in control of herself.
Legs were starting to tremble from the constraints when she heard the key in the lock. The sound caused her to jerk up, reminding her of the collar around her neck connected to the eyebolt low on the chair by means of a delicate yet strong silver chain. Totally exposed and vulnerable, she felt each of his steps as he descended towards her.
"Aren't you quite the sight? Your Master did well in his explanations." He wasted no time in running long smooth fingers around her thighs and across her ass. "I will enjoy this, you naughty slave. You owe for the work you caused me today." His voice was disarmingly pleasant, with a foreign ring that bespoke culture and charm.
He walked around her, appraising her situation, pausing to check the bindings and then pinching at her nipples. She winced in pain, the nipples having dangled and blood collected in them until they were sensitive beyond measure. He spent some time massaging her calves, tensed from the high heels and awkward angle at the side of the chair. His hands created a prickly sensation from which she couldn't escape and found herself trembling as a result.
He moved in front of her, and brought out his cock. She could feel it close to her face. "Open up." His cock slid into her mouth and she took it as though ending a famine. He was comfortably large and grew harder as he started to stroke in and out of her lips. "I want you to know what you might have, if you behave. Be good now, take it deep." It was a gentle insistent coaching as he slowed to enjoy.
"Enough. I have work to do."
He left her mouth hanging open as he straightened his pants and moved behind her. The first strike of the cane created an instant scream. Not deterred, he continued. The trail of marks he created illustrated a random and thorough attack on her ass and her thighs. Only her calves were spared, an aim at them hindered by the way her Master had bound her over the chair. Shortness of breath began to erode the volume of her screams until the only noise he could discern was a steady whimpering. Having been quiet through the beginning onslaught, he began a soft voiced lecture on her poor business decision to sign a contract without consultation or permission. The effect was two fold. Her body cried in suffering, in her heart grew a painful understanding of her actions.
She felt a cold intrusion near her ass and tensed. He shoved the cold metal plug in anyway. He held it in place until she settled and stopped fighting.
"Hold that in now. I'm almost done with the damage I set out to do, and if you're a good slut and hold that plug in place, you will get to enjoy my cock before I go."
The moment his hand left the plug, she felt its weight began to pull. Gravity was against her as she strained to hold it in place. The next stroke of that indomitable cane made clear how futile her situation would become. If she clenched to hold it in place, the cane hurt tenfold. If she relaxed to accommodate the pain, the plug would drop. Still blindfolded, her mind still envisioned a smile across the unknown face.
