PROLOGUE
Lara lay on her bruised back, with her legs stuck out. She had clothesline, tightly tied to her big toe on each widespread foot, with the other end attached to a nipple clamp pulling each breast, and the rope wasn't long.
This was a tougher situation than last week, when Circe had Lara hanging from her wrists, and having to run her fingers around a combination lock to get loose and drop to the floor.
Paying $300 a session though...it had to be worth it, right?
Now, Lara was trying hard not to move her feet much, but it was quite difficult, as Circe kept strolling up on those gorgeous boots and whipping Lara's ass with a cut lilac branch, quite thick
Poor Lara, feet jacked over her head, and causing hideous distress to the elongated nipple. If only the rope connecting them would break or something.
Lying here was so awkward, on her back, hands cuffed under her butt, and of course the pressure of her body on her wrists wasn't fun, either.
But of course it was fun...Lara had a sweet fiancé at home who deluged her with gifts (she'd sold the tennis bracelet he'd given her for twelve sessions with Circe.)
But Circe was the only one who could get an orgasm out of poor Lara!
Whack! Lara was jostled by the new cut across her thighs, the sensitive part right between buttocks and thighs. Lara moved her legs convulsively, and her nipples again felt the strain and the pinch.
Circle smiled coldly, and lifted the switch again.
More and more swishing with the cruel lilac branch...Circe was good at this.
When Circe came to work at the Abbey, she'd been a former Norwegian au pair called "Satu." But Miss Sable, the Abbess, had re-named her new domme "Circe" which meant "wood nymph" or something, and was peculiarly pronounced "Kirk-a"
But enough of the clients were educated enough that this appellation served Circe's popularity well.
Now, just as she was going to swing La Lilac again, Circe got a message on her phone that a ticket had been purchased for her to fly to Buttermilk Falls, three states away to spend a month with an old client.
Circe barely remembered Weiss Conover, but he was rich and kind of sweet. Cried easily. What better combo was there?
Circe quickly cut Lara's ropes and undid her bonds.
Lara finally was able to lower her legs and her nipples felt comparatively heavenly.
"What now, Mistress Circe?"
"Frig yourself and split, sweetie."
Later...
Circe smiled sleepily, watching Weiss fumble with the breakfast tray. He was such a nice guy, sort of fat and fumbling, like that pitiful bureaucrat "Jerry" from "Parks and Recreation"
On the show, everyone picked on poor Jerry, who was forever apologizing. Of course Weiss probably didn't apologize much, since he owned the biggest brewery in the tri state area...but Circe seemed to get several "sorries" out of him.
God, look at him, standing in the bedroom like this, wearing pajamas. Who wore pajamas anymore? He was about fifty-eight.
When he'd knocked on the bedroom door, Circe had taken off her ex boyfriend's over-sized football jersey and slipped into a wicked looking Merry Widow, as if anyone would sleep in such an uncomfortable outfit. THEN she said he could come in.
"I made you a nice Eggs Benedict, Circe. I hope that's okay. Did I awaken you too early?"
AWAKEN. Not "Did I get you up too early?" Wow.
Circe shook her head and her honey blonde Scandinavian tresses fell into her face. This of course hypnotized Weiss. Guys were always really into Circe's hair. And her huge blue eyes.
Circe batted her enormous blue eyes at Weiss again, and watched him tremble with the tray.
Weiss had called the Abbey and asked for Circe to come stay for a month. He'd had a few short sessions with her over the years when travelling through her state. She'd mentioned that she could come long-term but she never imagined he'd "rent" her. It was quite expensive.
But yes, if you have the money, you could get a "Wife" or a "Mommy" although a twenty-six year old "mommy" to a fifty-eight year old "naughty boy" was a little ridiculous.
When Circe had approached Weiss's front door the day before, he'd opened up before she could knock, and looked absolutely thrilled, those blushing chubby cheeks.
And why shouldn't he? She'd been attired in a tight violet tee and leather miniskirt, although it was July. And, of course, glorious fuck-me heels. Circe had given him a big hug and kissed his fat cheek, and this of course had thrilled him.
It was doubtful that during her visit that Weiss would even see Circe completely naked. He might be allowed to slurp her twat once or twice, or more if he was any good at it.
Weiss had taken Circe's stuff up to her room, and then come back down, and paced nervously as she sat in front of him on the couch, her legs crossed.
Weiss had noticed that before she let him take her luggage up to her room, she'd taken a large wooden hairbrush out and kept it with her on the couch.
Weiss had babbled about his silly fantasies, and how much he'd enjoyed their previous visits, and asked if there was anything she might need.
Finally Circe smiled and said "Weiss, why don't you strip down to your Fruit of the Looms now."
Weiss had paused, with heavy perspiration. "Ma'am?"
While Weiss had been upstairs, Circe had also tied her pretty blonde hair into a severe chignon, and looked like an irritated schoolmarm. She smiled grimly and said
"I think we have some unfinished business from our visit back in March. You left my suite a mess after our session, and I've been wanting to discuss it with you."
Circe paused and tapped her hairbrush with her long nails.
"Disobedient, sloppy boys can be a real disappointment, you know."
This of course, was nonsense. Weiss had been very neat in the session last year. He'd folded his clothes, and after his whipping and strap-on dildo rape, had licked the plastic shaft clean of his dingleberries and asked Circe if she wanted him to make her a pot of tea...in HER room!
Truly, Circe should have no gripe with Weiss, but that was the way things were here. It was a bevy of trumped-up charges, as it were.
Weiss's knees had knocked and he apologized profusely for whatever last year's errors had been.
Circe remembered a teacher telling her once that the little boys who polished the apples and pounded erasers were often most annoying...Teacher's pets indeed!
"Weiss, I think I told you to remove your clothes." Circe breathed in heavily, and her boobs surged a bit and she gave him the evil eye.
"You don't want me to get you to go upstairs and get my dog-whip, do you?"
Weiss had taken off his clothes and again folded them neatly on a hassock, which made Circe want to slap him.
And then she'd told him to bring her a highball. She'd drunk it while he stood in front of her in his tighty-whities, rubbing his hands together nervously.
But what a bulge was in that crotch!
