Melodies

June stands by the glass door of the book shop, jingling the key ring loudly, hoping the solitary browser will quit soon so she can lock up. He'd been somewhat interesting an hour earlier; good looking, somewhat muscular. Now, however, he was just another delay in June's night.

"Excuse me," the man calls. June looks up to find him waiting by the cash register, book in hand. Great, she thinks, now that I'm late closing he decides to buy something. As she walks back to the counter the young girl catches a brief strain of music and wonders if the customer has a Walkman tucked away somewhere.

"Six eighteen, please," June says, pushing a blonde lock out of her eyes tiredly.

"You actually read that crap?" the man asks.

"What?"

"That," he repeats, indicating the book next to June's purse.

"Well, yes." The music grows a little louder and June realizes that the stranger is actually humming along under his breath.

"Garbage. You think that woman's actually tried any of those things?"

June blushes and laughs nervously. "I don't know, maybe? I mean, how could I tell?"

The man laughs with her. The name on his credit card reads Marco something. "You couldn't, since you've never tried either. But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"

June gasps at her customer's nerve and wonders how the hell he can hum while talking. "What makes you think that? That's the worst come-on I've heard in a long time!"

Marco chuckles again. "I can just tell. Let's see what's in here!" Picking up the book, Marco begins to read. "'...and the reed-thin cane fell again and again, until the slave's beautiful skin was a lovely shade of pink.' What crap!"

June's pulse picks up slightly as Marco reads -- his voice somehow makes the negative assessment sound sensuous. "I wouldn't have even known the difference if you hadn't said something." The girl's complaint isn't very forceful.

"Why don't you come with me so I can make it up to you?"

June thinks for a moment, fighting for breath. "Okay," she says, amazed at her own answer. What the hell was she doing?

"Don't forget to lock the door," Marco says as they leave.

* * * * *

Less than an hour later June finds herself naked in Marco's apartment. Bent over the back of a chair, the girl's ankles are tied to the hind legs of the seat and her wrists bound to the front. Marco remains clothed. He's not humming any longer, but June swears she can hear soft music emanating from him.

"I don't think you should start with a cane," the strange man says. "It's not really a toy for beginners -- canes are far more painful than your stupid book describes."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Marco seems amused.

June shrugs as best she can in her captive position. "Okay," she repeats. The word ends with a high-pitched yelp as her backside burns from a sharp blow.

"I couldn't quite hear you." Marco strokes one hand back and forth along the curve of June's spine, swinging the leather slapper idly in the other. June catches a glimpse of the toy; a bit less than two feet of heavy leather with something slightly more rigid running inside the length. The weapon looks to be about two inches wide, although the stinging in June's rear has spread far wider than that.

"I said, 'Okay'!"

The slapper swings again, leaving another burning path across June's rump. She cries out, twisting her mid-section vainly against the high back of the chair.

"Come on, June," chides Marco. "You've been reading up on this! What's the correct response?" The girl jumps once more as he teases her reddening skin with the surface of the slapper.

"Okay, sir?" June asks, and is rewarded with another blow, this time at the top of her thigh.

"That's pretty close." The girl is fairly certain she can hear the man smiling.

"Yes, sir!" she practically shouts.

"Good!" Marco says, punctuating the praise with a crack to the opposite leg. His free hand skims in soft circles on the young woman's naked back, eliciting a long, low moan.

"I think you're starting to enjoy this! Isn't it infinitely more fun than just reading about it?"

"Yes, sir." June's hands grip the legs of the chair convulsively, the flesh from her legs to back jumping in anticipation of the slapper.

"Let's make you enjoy it even more." Marco's hand snakes around June's body, questing between the girl's thighs. Her knees turn to liquid and June nearly falls onto the chair as the next blow lands and the fingers beneath send an intense pleasure shooting through her body. Three slaps later June's legs are quivering and she groans uncontrollably, her entire body wracked with the most intense climax she can remember.

"I take it you liked that?" Marco asks, pulling up a chair to sit beside the bound girl.

"Yes, sir," she answers between pants.

"Well, good. Let's do it again, then!"

Within minutes June is moaning and thrashing again, straining at the ropes as the slapper stings her skin and Marco's fingers dance teasingly around her center. The creamy skin of the girl's backside blazes, almost as red as the back and insides of her thighs. When he finally stops teasing and moves to a more direct stimulation, June shudders and collapses on the back of the chair.

"You were definitely made for this," Marco comments, untying the knots from June's ankles and wrists. She stands unsteadily, held up by strong arms. "Now, let's get a bit more personal!"

Catching her breath, June literally tears into the man's clothing. Laughing, he drags her into another room where the pair tumble onto the dom's huge bed.

* * * * *

"How'd you know I'd like this?" June asks, nestled comfortably in Marco's bed. The girl's long hair covers her pillow in a lustrous golden halo.

"Sometimes you can just tell," Marco tells her. He looks amused. "Start paying more attention to people; everyone gives off certain feelings, or vibes. That, plus that stupid book you were reading, gave me a pretty good idea."

"Like music."

Marco laughs. "Yes, some people describe it as music. Others call it radio signals, empathy, whatever term you like. And by the way, don't listen to any of that pop-psychology crap about magnetic waves. I don't think that the reactions between two people are quite that simple." His palm brushes against one globe of the girl's still-tender rear and she twitches.

"Whatever it is, I'm glad it worked for you!"

* * * * *

Once again, June is more than ready to close the store and some fool has apparently decided to hover around the racks all night. "Excuse me, sir," she calls. "We're closing soon!"

"Sorry," the man answers, appearing from behind the shelves. "I've found what I want." He seems to float across the floor toward the counter, tossing a paperback next to the cash register. The man is only slightly taller than June, but the overpowering sense of presence he exhibits reminds her of Marco.

The cash register beeps as June passes the book's bar code under a scanning light. Recognizing the title, she glances over at the man and blushes. He doesn't appear to notice.

"Um, five seventy-eight," June tells him.

"What?" the customer asks, brow creasing.

"This book costs five seventy-eight. Cash or charge?"

"That book came from your sale rack. It's only supposed to be two dollars before tax."

June glances toward the mark-down shelf near the front of the store. As far as she knows, her customer never looked through those books.

"I'm sorry," says the girl. "Someone must have put it there by mistake. This title hasn't been marked down."

"Are you arguing with me?" he demands, and June's breath catches in her throat. Strains of music she hasn't heard for over a week begin ringing in her ears. Trying to concentrate on the book, June answers.

"I'm not trying to argue with you, it's just that somebody messed up!"

"It sounds to me like you're arguing." The man begins fishing around in the pocket of his jacket.

June takes a step back from the counter. "Look, I'm supposed to be closing up here! I've got to get going, I have plans to go to a friend's house, and --"

"Marco's not home tonight," the customer says with a smile. Reaching across the counter, he pulls the unresisting girl toward him. "But I don't think he'd mind me giving you a lesson in cooperation!" Without warning, the customer reaches up and clasped a thick, leather collar around June's neck. The collar sports a large metal ring, from which a long leash dangles. Tugging gently, the man pulls June part way across the counter and brushes his lips against hers. A quick jolt passes through her stomach and June is overwhelmed by the man's subtle symphony.

"Let's go." Leading her around the counter, June's captor heads for the door.

"Lock up," he says when the pair is standing on the sidewalk. A few evening strollers pass by, glancing curiously at the leash leading from June's neck to the customer's hand. When the entrance to the book store is secure June follows her master meekly down the street.

* * * * *

This new master's taste in his sub's position is slightly more exotic than Marco's. Once again unclothed, June is made to lie on her back on a giant, four-poster bed. Her wrists and ankles are both bound to the posts at the head of the bed, with little enough slack that her feet are pulled apart and up toward her face. In this position June begins receiving lashes from a cat o' nine tails.

"One, sir!" June cries as the first blow lands. She has already been informed that any missed count will result in ten extra lashes.

"Two, sir!" The upturned rump is already beginning to glow in bright stripes where the cat's tongues have licked. After the next swish and crack a scream escapes June's lips. She adds the count quickly, not wishing to displease the anonymous man.

"Four, sir!" The back of June's calf burns as well as one nipple, grazed by the tip of the tails as they wrap around the girl's slim legs.

"Five, sir! Six, sir!" June's entire lower body is on fire and she's never felt so vulnerable. Trickles of sweat work give her sheen a glossy sheen, beads appearing between her breasts, on the insides of her thighs, and in the crease of her buttocks. After the seventh swing the cat is still.

"Is it time for a break?"

"If you wish, sir!" Apparently he does so wish, because the cat remains on the bed. Fishing around in the drawer of the nightstand, June's master comes up with a strange plastic bulb. It somewhat resembles an overly large pacifier. He holds it in front of June's face and the girl, confused, licks tentatively at the tip.

"Never seen one of these before?" June's captor is laughing.

"No, sir."

Two seconds later June gasps as the object slides slowly into an area where June has never been penetrated. The invading device totally fills the small girl and she lies stock still, afraid to move or protest. When the plug is completely inserted the man reaches over casually and pinches the small nub of nerves above the juncture of June's thighs.

The captive climaxes immediately, twisting and pulling at her bonds in a frenzy. Every muscle in her body convulses uncontrollably, including the one being stretched by the plastic invader. The anonymous master retrieves his cat quickly, whipping the exposed thighs and buttocks over and over until June's spasms subside.

When the girl begins to relax her master holds back the cat, reversing it in his hand. With the handle he raps once on the plastic protruding from June's body. The captive tenses again, breasts shaking as a long shudder passes from her lungs to her toes. One more flick of the whip and the tails flicker directly across June's core. She screams loudly, another climax wracking her abused body.

The man drops the cat and his robe, evidently interested in his own stimulation. Kneeling quickly on the bed he buries himself in June's tender flesh. The skin on his legs, tucked beneath June's buttocks, feels almost cold. The master starts moving, then, every once in a while bumping the toy filling June's nether region. More waves of pleasure shoot through the captive and she screams for her abuser to never stop.

* * * * *

The bookstore is quiet when June arrives for her shift. Linda, the day time employee, jumps almost guiltily when the front door bangs shut. June smiles when she says the book in Linda's hands: it's the same one for which Marco displayed such derision.

"You scared me!" Linda says, setting the book down.

"Sorry. What're you reading?"

Linda shows June the book, looking a bit embarrassed. "Have you read it?" she asks.

"Not all of it," June tells her. "It's not very good." Linda nods self-consciously, gathering her things and signing out on the cash sheet. As the other girl departs, June finds herself humming.