When he returned to the room, he was wearing a clean shirt, a dark brown leather vest and a clean pair of jeans, along with his boots and hat of course. He smiled at me, "You are doing fine, Alexis. I'm very pleased."
I returned his smile, though I know he could read the questions and lingering frustration in my expression. His boots echoed on the floor as he approached me. He smelled of strong soap and leather. It was, once again, an intoxicating scent. He kissed the top of my head before kneeling down to release my wrists and ankles.
Once my ankles were free from the metal cuffs, I curled my legs up underneath me and looked down at him, waiting. He held out his hand for me and I took it and let him help me to my feet. Then with delicate care, he slipped the negligee up and off of me, tossing it in the corner. He led me into the bathroom where there were literally dozens of scented candles flickering. There was a single rose in a vase at the foot of the enormous bathtub which was filled with hot water and bubbles. Without a word, he helped me step into the tub.
Silently, he gestured toward the makeup and dresses in the dressing table and armoire in the corner, tipped his hat with a grin, and made a slight bow as he backed out through the door, closing it.
I leaned back in the old-fashioned tub and sighed. My hands roamed my body and naturally sought out my aching clit. I heard a crackle over an intercom and then his voice echoed in the spacious bathroom, "No, Alexis. You know the rules; you will only climax with my permission. Understand?"
I looked all around. For the life of me, I could not see a camera anywhere. I nodded.
The sound system crackled again and I heard his voice once more, "Good girl."
And so I soaked for a while, cleaned myself and took my time making myself presentable. I selected a lovely off-the-shoulder black long sleeved dress which cinched in at the waist, showing off my womanly curves nicely. My hair was in long ringlets as it always is when it is damp; I knew it would dry into lovely curls over the next hour, but that in the meantime, it would have a sensuous impact on any average man. I carefully applied makeup so that it was subtle, accentuating my eyes and lips, in my opinion, my best features. I sighed and stepped back to evaluate my reflection. Not bad. I smiled.
I spotted several pairs of shoes under the dressing table and selected a lovely pair of high-heeled sandals. Perfect. I took a deep breath and stepped back out into the main room. He was standing beside a table set for two holding out my chair. I beamed at him, I couldn't help myself.
I don't remember much about that dinner or the hours of conversation that we shared that evening. I do remember that he told me how beautiful I looked in the candlelight. I remember the way his green eyes glinted and danced as we talked. He asked me about my life and I found myself sharing every detail with him. I told him everything about my childhood, my ambitions, my passions and interests, my husband and my children. All the while, he listened intently, smiling and nodding, seeming to drink it in.
I finally was bold enough to ask him about himself; his answers were a bit guarded but perfectly honest. It was during this conversation that I realized what a truly fine man he was. His views on the world showed without question that he was honorable, honest, brave and compassionate. It is all a blur to me now, but I remember being more "present" during that conversation than during any other in my lifetime.
As with our previous dinner, he helped me into another nightgown and laid me in the bed, telling me to get some rest. I slept deeply while a whirlwind of dreams filled my head.
I laugh thinking about this now, because I realize that he enjoyed having me awaken in unusual circumstances and watching me acclimate and react. I think he learns something about the women he "trains" by the way they handle those situations. From personal experience, I can tell you that it is virtually impossible to hide anything when you are naked and strapped to some piece of wood or machinery!
And so, once again, I awoke in a rather interesting situation. I was completely naked and lying on a large examining table, the kind you'd find in a doctor's office. My legs were in the stirrups and tied securely. My arms were stretched above my head and tied with rough rope. There was a loose strap around my throat which seemed to go through the table and fasten underneath it. The middle section of the table underneath my ass felt like it was on a spring, feeling kind of "bouncy" compared to the relative rigidity of the rest of the table.
I could see lots of silver implements through my peripheral vision but could not lift my head high enough to make out exactly what they were. I laid my head back and decided to relax and wait for his inevitable arrival.
His voice broke the silence, "Well done, Alexis. You assessed your situation and reached calm acceptance very quickly. Good girl."
His praise sent chills through me and I was wet instantly. I moaned softly and strained to try to see him, but he was outside my range of vision. I saw his hand reach from behind me; he was standing at the head of the examination table. He stroked my cheek and chuckled as I sighed and nuzzled my face close to try to prolong his touch.
"Poor little Alexis; she needs something, doesn't she?" He chuckled again. "She needs cock, doesn't she?" I whimpered. "What is it baby?" He asked in the same tone one would use with a toddler in distress, "What do you need?" He continued to stroke my cheek and hair, as though he were petting me.
I felt no reluctance this time when I said, "Please, Steve. My pussy is aching to be fucked. Yesterday was torture. Please. Please!!!!"
He chuckled yet again, "Mmmmm, Alexis; I do love it when you beg. Alright my dear, you shall be fucked this morning."
I sighed and relaxed my body and waited for him to appear, but instead I heard his footsteps moving away and heard him take a seat somewhere at an angle where he could view my body, but I couldn't see him. "Steve?" I asked. But there was no response.
