The Collection Denise L

Author Note:

This story is dedicated to Master. He gave me a great assignment and I enjoyed it immensely.

I stared at the wall, lost for a moment in the past. I had been a member of the Club now for a month, resigning from my position as the Head of Human Services. The public humiliation of confessing my crimes had been forced, yet now, looking back I am more content in my new life than I ever believed I would be. But that tells you nothing. Instead I will tell you what happened to me, just a few weeks ago.

I had been having lunch with several business associates, quietly minding our business when a handsome gentleman walked passed. He stopped and bent down, whispered in my ear and then left. The other ladies' brows rose and several asked me who the man was and how could they find one like him. I confessed I did not know his identity, but he'd simply asked me to meet him at the bar that evening. The others were all giddy about the after hours dalliance and they chittered amongst themselves. I on the other hand, remained silent, allowing their girlish laughter to dominate the table, while I concentrated on the rush of pleasure that had skated down my spine from the stranger's breath.

The rest of the day seemed to move at a snail's pace. Various men and women tried to get out of responsibilities that fell on their shoulders, yet I wouldn't allow it. With the air of a Queen, something I was known for displaying, I rode my employees and subordinates hard. Eventually, even I had to admit it was time to let the flock go home, though they were each told to arrive a few hours earlier than their normal shift. Several balked, but with a steely glare from my green eyes, no one refused my demand. I watched them leave, their shoulders heavy from the stress they were under. But that was my job. . . to make sure they made me look good. I was quite good at it.

I went home that night, excited at the prospect of meeting the stranger who had excited me with just the simple words he'd painted upon my ear. "The bar, my sweet morsel, at nine. Don't be late, or I will have to punish you." Simple words, if delivered normally, I would have laughed at, but these were delivered by a man who gave off a sense of power, a level of intelligence, determination, and masculinity that I had not yet encountered. I have had many men and several women begging for just a few hours of my time, but the feeling of lust that had rolled over me when this gentleman brushed his lips against the soft lobe of my ear had been like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. I knew I would be at the bar. . . the question was would I purposely make myself late, so I could see why this man thought he had a right to "punish" me, or would I be late to see if he thought he could. One thing for sure. . .I knew I was going to be late.

At home I tossed several dresses onto my bed, knowing the maid would be at a loss as to my madness when she came to freshen the room the next morning. I didn't care though. . .you see, looking back at my life, before my Master and the Sirs that would later use me, I cared for no one. The only thing I did care about was feeding my own desires, now I am different. I am what my Master knew I was, even though I had no clue it was there. I apologize though, I digress. It is a habit I seem to have, simply going off on tangents and losing focus on what I am to be doing. My Master is working on that habit. It is a painful process, but one I know I will benefit from. Back to my story. . .

That night I dressed in a way that would draw the attention of every man and woman in the room, whether the man was gay or the woman straight. I knew every eye would be on me, that was how it was supposed to be. It was the way I wanted it. I needed to control the room, the situation, the people, even the man I was meeting would be trapped in my snare. The red Pvc hugged my full bosom. The stretch lacing crisscrossed against my chest, leaving plenty of my soft globes exposed. I loved the look of my body in this dress. The way the material seduced my skin, only added to the excitement as I imagined my lover removing the clingy material from my lean body. I could all ready feel the lust in his eyes and he wasn't even in my home, or my bed. . .yet.

I arrived at the Restaurant at 9:10. My eyes full of mischief, my skin prickling with excitement as I made my way to the bar, eager to see what his "punishment" would be. When I walked in, the reaction I got was the one I wanted and knew I would receive. Everyone turned to look at me. I didn't thrust my breasts out or toss my head. There was no need, for all ready I knew my plan had worked. I was the center of attention. With the air of confidence I made my way to the bar, only to scan it and realize the man I was to meet had not arrived. My brow furrowed. How dare he be late. It didn't matter that I was. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be waiting on me I glowered at the bartender and ordered a drink, frustration clearly written on my face.

"Denise?" he asked me.

I lifted a brow, curious as to how he knew my name. I had frequented the Restaurant during the day, but not once had I ever been here during the evening nor in the bar itself. I preferred the private clubs of the city, the ones where you were only allowed in if you knew the right people. Yet this man, this white collar employee knew my name. "Yes?" I asked back, my voice showing my displeasure of being interrupted. I wanted to console myself at being stood up.

"I was asked to give you this," he told me. His callused fingers held a crisp white sheet of paper, folded in half, the other hand presented me with a crystal flute filled with champagne. I took both, doing my best to ignore the beefy fingers and the way they looked ridiculous holding the delicate stem. He then turned away, but not before I saw the look of lust clearly written on his face. That look made me feel better. Too bad, I told myself, he was merely a bartender and not a real man with a real job. I sipped my champagne, noted the expensive bubbly as it slipped down my throat and settled into my empty belly. I plucked a pretzel into my mouth, chewed and swallowed, knowing to drink anything on an empty stomach was not wise for me.

The note was simple. A number and the name of one of the most expensive Hotels in the city. I smirked. How confident this man was. All ready he had come and gone. I'd been late and he'd left. It was totally unexpected for me, it both annoyed and humored. I finished my drink, deposited a small tip on the bar and left. I felt the eyes of the room returning to me as I made my way out, one set of eyes seemed to bore into my skin. . .the bartender's.

Outside I made my way to my car, slipped in behind the wheel and stared at my reflection. I knew how hot I looked. I knew it was a waste for this arrogant man to not see what he would never touch. So with a sense of self-righteousness I headed to his hotel, my intentions clear. . .he would look upon me, reach for me and perhaps I would even allow him to get hard for me, but that was it. . .after he was thick with lust, I would laugh and walk away. Punish me. . .no, he would be punished. He would have only his hand to console him.

At the hotel I gave a quick and short nod to the attendant behind the counter, tipped the bellman at the elevator and stood confidently as he pressed the button to the top floor and then quietly took his place next to the control panel. I felt both nervous and yet confident that the stranger would learn a lesson this night. No one kept Denise Leatherman waiting. . .No one.

I stepped into the hall, the door to the suite was to the left, the other suite to the right. The hotel's top floor were designed to resemble full homes. Only two suites rested on the top level. I shook out my hair, tipped the bellman and walked toward the door with the corresponding number screwed to its frame. Lifting my fist I rapped quietly on the imposing wood and waited to be allowed entrance.

Footsteps rang out and I smirked, impressed by how quickly he came to my call. My stomach pitched in excitement as I watched the knob turn and the door open. He stood there looking at me. A quick sweep of my figure and then he was back to staring into my eyes. "I am surprised you came," he spoke. Looking back I knew he was not surprised. He knew I would come. . .yet at that moment, I didn't know he all ready knew so much about me. He stepped back and I walked in, still determined he would be left wanting and I would leave confident he would learn a lesson or two on patience. I was worth waiting for.

He closed the door and I turned to face him, ready to tell him how asinine I thought it was for him to have left right at 9:00 and not waiting for me. I didn't get the chance. As I turned he grabbed me and pulled me against him. His lips claimed mine as I struggled to comprehend he was kissing me and we'd not even been introduced. I did not know his name, his age, his occupation. All I knew was his mouth was on mine. His tongue was inside. His hands were gripping my arms in painful grasp that would leave bruises if I struggled. None of this mattered in the whole scheme of things. The force of his introduction had sent a thrill of heat into my soul that was quickly consuming me. When I began to kiss him back, he seemed to soften a bit and I felt my resolve return.

I leaned into him, relaxed and swept my tongue along side his. His grip on my arms eased as he walked me back into the room. My fingers moved from the fabric of his shirt to settle on his shoulders, then wrap around the back of his head, where my fingers anchored themselves in his hair. I felt the back of a couch and sat down on its arm. He pulled his lips away and tossed off his jacket. I knew it would be hard to walk away, but I would still do it. He needed to be taught a lesson. I watched him pull off his loosened tie. My fingers helped in removing his shirt and then I tugged on his pants. The belt was pulled from its loops, tossed casually on the back of the couch. His shoes came off, his pants, then his boxers.

I stared at his cock, swollen and angry with lust. Then I slipped my mouth over it, sucked several times and pushed him back as I started to rise, my mouth still on his thick shaft. As I was bent at the waist, my fingers cupped his balls, played with them several times, before I popped his cock out of my mouth, wiped my face and stepped to the side. "Good night," I told him, my eyes locking with his. To say what happened next surprised me, is an understatement. In less than a blink of an eye my world changed. His hand reached out and wrapped around the lacing of my dress. My eyes grew in horror, shock, anger and fear.

My hand lifted and I moved to slap his face. His other hand came up and wrapped tight around my wrist. "That would not be wise," he told me. Hauling me against him and crushing his lips to mine. I struggled, moving my head one way, then the next. He released my dress, cupped my chin and kept me still. I fought to not feel the heat of his tongue as it plundered my wet lips and stroked my tongue. I whimpered, but still denied the exquisite torture. He pulled away, grabbed my hair and tugged it hard. My head fell back and his lips pressed against my neck. I shuddered. He sucked hard, then I felt his teeth. My pussy tightened and I jerked away. I did not want this. I did not want to feel desire for this arrogant man. I stumbled. He caught me.

Both of my hands were pressed against his chest. I demanded he leave me alone. He laughed, further angering me. My eyes slanted and then opened wide as the door to the room opened and another man stepped in. It took me a moment to realize I knew the face. I glanced back at the stranger and my jaw must have been hanging, for his finger pushed up on my chin and felt the snap of my teeth as the clanged together. The door closed and the bartender from the Restaurant's laughter filled the room.

What happened next is still somewhat hazy for me. I admit now that I enjoyed it all. I enjoyed every thrust, every slap, every ounce of come. But at that moment in time, I feared what was to come. The stranger twisted my arms behind my back and in one quick swoop of his arm, the belt he'd been wearing and I had tossed casually to the side was wrapped around my wrists. The bartender walked toward me, a lecherous grin on his face, a flash of steel in his hand. My eyes widened and as I was about to scream a gag was placed in my mouth and wrapped tight around my face. I knew it was the stranger's tie.

I stared in horror as the blade of a knife cut away the lacing of my red dress. My eyes started to tear and the salty liquid that spilled from my green orbs were lapped up by the man who had tied my wrists. I pulled away, but he held me solid. "Don't move. I would hate for Sir Michael to cut you. But if he does, it will not matter Denise. You will still be punished. I told you to not be late. Had you been on time, you would have only had to deal with me this first time. Yet, you chose to be late and now you must be punished. It is sad really. . .I do not like to punish one so beautiful, so early in the game."

I stared at Sir Michael and watched his knife trail up and down the swells of my breasts. I trembled, my body betraying me as my mind screamed that this was wrong. My nipples grew hard, the peaks pushed against the fabric and I knew without a doubt that whatever was going to happen, my body would enjoy it. . .and eventually so would my mind. I pushed the thoughts away as Sir dropped the knife and tugged the zipper of the Pvc dress down. I felt a rush of both pleasure and shame as they stared at my naked body. I had known I was going to seduce this man and had worn no panties. I stood there exposed.

The stranger, who later became my Master, pushed me to the floor. My knees collapsed and I felt my hair spill across my face. Master jerked my head up and I looked into the crotch of the bartender, the man I had treated with disdain, less than an hour earlier. His hand cupped my chin and lifted my face even further. "Bite me and you will pay far worse than anything you could imagine."

I knew he spoke the truth. I knew he would punish me, more so if I didn't cooperate and I bit him. I knew what he was going to do and a part of me wished for it, yet the strong woman in me, denied I wanted this to happen. I glared at him as his hands opened his pants and he pulled his thick tool from behind its depths. He reached out and pulled the gag from my mouth, thrust his cock in my face and then pushed the head between my parted lips. I balked at first, trying to turn my head away, but it was held in place by Master. He held me there as Sir began to fuck my face. I felt the hardness of his shaft slam into me. My teeth grazed his shaft. I opened my mouth wider, fearful I would accidentally bite him. Faster he went. Harder. Deeper. I closed my eyes, as I felt a warm flush caress my inner being.

I felt his balls slap against my chin and heard him tell Master what a good cock sucker I was. How I would be a perfect addition to the collection. I didn't know what he meant, well. . .as far as the collection went. I knew though about the other. I was a good cock sucker, an expert really and if Sir would allow me to do it with my own desire running through me he'd be rewarded with an even more skilled tongue. It was that thought that made me change tactics. I found myself wanting to hear more of his words proclaiming my value. I relaxed and began to work his cock with the skills I possessed. He grunted and encouraged me. I felt Master's fingers release my hair and heard him step away. I glanced and saw he was occupying himself at a table. I was curious, but felt the tug of Sir's hands on my head and knew I was to keep up on my current job.

I slashed at his cock with my tongue. Whenever he pulled away I followed, leaning in to suckle as much as I could before he took it away. He called me a good slut. A beautiful cunt. Words I would have slapped a man for earlier, poured over me like silk and I inwardly begged for more. When he grabbed my head, shoved hard down my throat three times in quick succession I knew he was about to come. Deep down in my gut I wanted his seed. My mind screamed at me to pull away, refuse his offering, but my soul craved it. I sucked hard, welcoming the first volley of come as it splashed against my throat. I shuddered as he pulled away, a cry of disappointment left my lips, only to be replaced with a gasp as the second shot of hot milk sprayed over my face. It hit my lips, my chin, my nose. I felt it slide down my face as he jerked my head back and delivered the final spurt into my open mouth. I swallowed it all and moaned when he released me. I slipped to the floor, rolled to my back and lay there panting. The taste of Sir Michael's come rested on my tongue and I savored it.

I heard footsteps and turned to see Master's standing over me. In his hands were leather straps. I scrambled away, or tried to. He reached out, wrapped a fist in my hair and lifted me from the ground. I screamed and he cuffed me across the face. "You've not learned yet?" he asked, glaring at me with a look of both glee and anger. He reached out and I stared in horror as another gag was forced into my mouth. The rubber ball stretched my lips and I gagged slightly, he pulled the gag out, gave me a moment to breath and then pushed it back in. I was barely prepared for the rubbery taste and started to gag again, but this time he just stared and I was forced to accept the invading ball. I breathed through my nose, swallowed my panic and stared back at him. My eyes were wide with fright, curiosity and want.

He released my hair and pulled me toward the bedroom. I walked, stumbling slightly. "You'll learn," he said and I wondered what he meant. Learn? What? How to walk while bound and gagged with grace? I would have laughed if the situation were not so demeaning. When I walked into the bedroom, I stopped short and almost fell over by the impact of my stop. The room was not the typical bedroom. This man had connections. The layout was unlike anything I had seen before. The bed was rigged with various straps and buckles. The ceiling held round rings that were scattered from different points in the room. Whoever was allowed in this room to clean and prepare it was someone Master trusted or paid well enough that he did not fear its secrets being exposed.

I felt a push against my back and glanced at Sir Michael. "Her belly is full of come, perhaps it is time to fill the rest of her with it?" His voice spoke of mirth and I wanted to spit at him.

"Yes, my friend. From the look on her face when she was sucking you off, she's got more slut left untapped. We shall do that now and I'm sure by the time we are finished and our come is flowing thickly from her holes, she'll only be begging for more."

I blinked rapidly at Master as he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the center of the room. Sir Michael released the belt and rubbed my arms. I winced as my shoulders were rubbed, the stiffness of the position only now becoming a factor to my comfort. I rolled my back and twisted my neck to one side. I thought briefly of running, taking the gag from my mouth and cursing at the two men, but I didn't. Looking back I know it was because I wanted to be there. I wanted them to do what they wished, to use me, to make me feel like the slut I had been while sucking off the other man. At that time the excuse I gave myself was fear. I feared the punishment.

Master grabbed both of my hands and lifted them into the air. I looked up and watched with a mixture of awe and worry as metal bracelets were wrapped around my wrists. I felt Sir's hands move down my legs and he pushed them apart, securing one with a band of leather and then buckling it to a small ring in the floor. I had failed to notice these when I first walked in, but now I did. The floor was almost as wicked looking as the ceiling. My other leg was restrained and I heard Sir removing the rest of his clothing. Eventually, we were all naked. The two men stood admiring me, gazing up on the soft bruises Master had left on my arms.