Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: i m tiered of ritting.so i stoped til 3rd part.soory|
Reading Allowed Ch. 01
She thought, for perhaps the 1oth time since getting into the car, Just play it cool, but the more she admonished herself to act natural, the more self-conscious she got. When she parked her car at the bookstore and got out, she looked like any other undergrad with her backpack, jeans, and flip flops, bent on a night of study at the Barnes & Noble. No one had any reason to look at her—but she couldn't help feeling that everyone in the parking lot, and then in the store, could tell that her pussy was already warming and twitching in anticipation.
She could feel it throbbing as she casually strolled down one of the aisles. Without meaning to, she saw her own plump pussy lips in her mind's eye, delicately enclosed in her most adorable pair of panties, the pink lacy pair with the matching bra that she'd put on earlier in the evening—though she wasn't quite sure why she had.
No one was going to see her lingerie. Marie didn't have a boyfriend, wasn't even dating anyone. In fact, she'd been spending more time with her professors lately than the students her own age. She was doing brilliantly in school—had turned in a paper just last week that her English Lit professor wanted her to try to publish. It was a particularly inspired explication that pointed out the rape imagery in the poetry of John Donne. Yes, that was her focus right now—school, and her backpack loaded with assignments.
There was just one thing to do first. Marie lingered in the literature section, letting her fingers skim along the rows of titles, pausing every now and then to take out a book and examine it, as if browsing. Except her heartbeat kept getting louder and louder as she progressed through the rows of alphabetized authors' names... Porter... Pyle ... Ratliffe ... There. Ann Rice—The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. With a quick look around, making sure she was unobserved, Marie soundlessly slid the slim book off the shelf with hands that had gone clammy. She clutched it against her chest, her arm effectively obscuring the title and plot synopsis on the back cover.
Marie made her way to a cluster of armchairs grouped invitingly around a little coffee table. There was an elderly woman already there, and Marie experienced an agonizing moment of indecision about whether to make eye contact with her. The old lady looked up and nodded at her, and Marie managed a weak smile as she slipped off her backpack and slid into the chair opposite. She carefully spread open her book on her knees, leaned forward, and began to read.
Despite her precautions, Marie hadn't been entirely unnoticed by the staff and customers at the bookstore. Despite her unremarkable clothes, her blonde hair pulled back into two French braids, her petite, slender figure, and her pretty green eyes behind her glasses were enough to catch the attention of at least a few of the males present. Then there was the way her expression changed as she read. While Marie was reading about the Prince making Beauty walk naked alongside his horse, or tying her naked outside a tavern for the villagers to fondle and gawk at while he slaked his thirst inside, her eyes would grow rounder and rounder, and her skin would flush perceptibly. She appeared utterly absorbed in her dirty story, and to at least one interested observer, she seemed to be squirming a bit in her chair.
He knew exactly which book she was reading—and even had a fair idea of where she was in the story—because this wasn't the first time he had observed her reading it.
And he was quite familiar with the book himself.
He wondered if she had any idea how obvious she was. The rhythmic way her legs moved slightly apart and then together, slowly or quickly depending on what she read, her occasionally ragged breathing and the way she unconsciously rubbed her palms against her thighs made her arousal evident to anyone who was paying attention.
He had been paying attention. Oh, yes. And he thought this might be the night he'd allow her to know it.
Marie finally tore herself away from the book, telling herself sternly it was time to get to work studying. But she was feeling pretty desperate. Her pussy was so hungry it was all she could do not to put her hand there and press for even just a moment to get some relief—and she knew she'd already been moving her hips while she read, wriggling her ass like some whore. Maybe she could step into the bathroom for just a minute... Get a grip, she thought.
She was ashamed at herself for feeling so out of control. Normally she managed everything and was so responsible, completing her assignments early, always making it to class on time—hell, she even ate a balanced diet. What was it about this book—this fantasy, the bound, naked, and helpless princess, that so obsessed her? Why didn't she get this excited when boys her own age kissed her or fondled her, in their fumbling way, at parties or during the few dates she'd been on?
Pressing her hands against her burning cheeks for a moment, Marie prepared herself for the next challenge—putting the cursed book back where it went with no one the wiser. The old lady had left, but there was a middle-aged woman sitting next to her now, and a mother arguing with her teenaged daughter in an aisle nearby. One night, when there was a bigger crowd around her in this same store, she'd made a show of getting something out of her backpack and then discreetly shoved the book into the chair cushions out of sight rather than risk putting it back on the shelf. She'd agonized for days about what the store employee who'd found it must have thought, prayed whoever it was hadn't noticed her sitting there earlier. But tonight the store seemed empty enough for her to risk it.
Taking care to hold the book so as to conceal its cover, Marie stood, shrugged her backpack on, and walked carefully in the direction of the Fiction section. With her arms crossed across her chest, she had to resist the urge to squeeze her own breasts—and was disgusted with herself for having the impulse in the first place. Truly, the sooner she got the book back in place and had some dry school text in front of her—preferably seated on a cold, hard chair—the better off she'd be. But she couldn't rush this. She'd die of shame if anyone found out what she'd been reading so raptly.
Marie was relieved to see that the Ann Rice row was empty. Without relaxing her guard, she made straight for the telltale gap where she'd removed the Beauty story from the tightly packed shelves. No one was in sight—this was not the moment to take her time pretending to browse. Gingerly, without making a sound, she reached up and slid the book back into place—and suddenly knew there was someone right behind her.
Her breath catching in her throat, Marie spun around in panic, only to find herself staring at a very near, very male chest.
Above that chest was a dark, close-trimmed beard, shot through with gray, within which was a mouth with a slight, ironic smile.
But it was the eyes that gripped her and held her there, speechless. Not that there was anything particularly special about his eyes, in and of themselves; they were blue-gray and bright with intelligence beneath heavy eyebrows and a broad forehead. Their expression was friendly, with a hint of amusement.
But what was making it difficult for Marie to breathe was the overwhelming sense she had, from the way he was looking at her, that this man knew her—knew her in a way nobody else did; knew her better than she knew herself.
She knew who he was, though not by name. This was his store and he was usually there. He had often been at the register when she had bought books so there had been the kind of brief exchanges that accompanied such transactions. But she had never paid much attention to how he looked, other than finding him vaguely attractive in an older-guy kind of way, and wouldn't have thought he had ever taken particular notice of her either.
His voice, when he spoke, was casual—but somehow intimate, as if the two of them had had many conversations before.
"I see you're an Ann Rice fan," he said, glancing briefly at the shelf behind her.
Marie's sense of panic ratcheted up a notch. Had she put the book all the way back onto the shelf? Had he seen?
"...And not an ordinary Ann Rice fan, either," he continued, reaching over her head and plucking The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty from its place. "A...connoisseur, shall we say."
And with that he flipped open the book, leaned towards Marie and to her astonishment read her a paragraph from the very page she had been reading. A paragraph that had made her flush when she had read it to herself, but now, hearing it read out loud to her by a man she hardly knew, struck her absolutely white.
Marie wanted to run. Brush past this man who knew too much about her, hurry out of the store and never return.
But then he closed the book and returned it to its place behind her. And when he lowered his hand he rested it lightly on her shoulder then placed his other hand on her other shoulder.
Holding her in his gaze he used his thumbs to slide the straps of her backpack off her shoulders. The sudden noise as it hit the floor made her jump, but he steadied her with his hands.
He leaned in close and said, "Stay here."
Then he turned away from her, walked to the center of the store and announced, "Closing time, ladies and gentlemen. Closing time."
Marie stood rooted to the spot, numb with shock. Good Lord, the worst possible thing had just happened. Not only had she been caught reading porn, but she'd been caught by him, the store owner, this—this magnetic man who was not going to let this go. She felt shaken to the core, recalling his voice in her ear, reading aloud the words, the images, that made her feel such powerful arousal. Oh, God, how did he know?
Suddenly Marie realized that she was standing there with her mouth hanging open. She became aware that the store's customers were trickling out, some grumbling, but no one attempting to question the man's announcement. And they were leaving her... alone with him. How much time had she wasted standing there like an idiot? He was close, but his back was to her. She should be long gone—surely there was a back door, or an emergency exit, or something.
Feeling strangely weak, Marie forced herself to move and started edging towards the opposite end of the aisle, away from him. That last command of his—stay here—kept echoing in her head, and she thought she could still feel his hands on her shoulders, holding her still. It had been a gentle touch, but, combined with the heat of his intense gaze, a compelling one. She had almost reached the end of the row, and was just about to duck around the corner and make a run for it, when he turned around and looked at her.
Marie felt pinned. And when he started striding purposefully towards her, she couldn't help letting out a little squeak of terror. But he just reached down and grabbed her backpack off the floor where she had left it. Giving her that same twisted smile, he walked off with it, out of her sight.
Oh, shit. Now what? How could she have forgotten to pick up her bag? It had everything in it—her wallet, her keys, not to mention her expensive textbooks. She couldn't just leave it here, even if she found another way out of this damn store. Get a grip, Marie, she said to herself. She was acting like a frightened child. So he embarrassed you—so what? She was just going to march right up to him and demand her stuff back. Just as soon as she could breathe again. She could hear the last couple of customers going out the doors. And then the lights went off.
Or most of them, at least. The soft, spot lighting in the caf?rea and the children's section stayed on, plus a few scattered fluorescent lights, left on for security, she imagined. For a brief, crazy moment, Marie wondered if he'd just left her in the store alone—locked the door behind him and gone. But no, he'd told her to stay put, implying that they had unfinished business. Well, she wasn't going to stay here, cowering in this dark aisle, for one second longer. She was taking control of this situation right now. Squaring her shoulders, she took three determined steps out into the store—and was promptly caught by the arm.
Jesus, how did he just come out of nowhere like that? Marie thought wildly as the store owner, who now seemed bigger and even more enigmatic in the dim light, hustled her back to where she had been standing. To where she had been told to wait.
He positioned her exactly as she had been. Dropped the backpack at her feet. Then simply stood and held her in his gaze for a long moment before reaching up and pulling Beauty from its shelf again...and handing it to her.
"Your turn," was all he said.
For a moment, Marie just stood there, clutching the book and staring at it as if she didn't know what it was. Then she looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise, her eyes wide. "You... you want me to read it?" Her voice, barely audible before, now dropped to a whisper. "Out loud?"
He smiled by way of reply. He thought it was telling that the first words out of her mouth were not a protest. She was looking down and fidgeting, and her face was red, but she wasn't running away, and he could sense the simmering arousal in the sound of her quick breathing and the tension in her body.
Marie was thinking fast. Maybe she could just get it over with, and then he'd let her go. If he was just trying to humiliate her, maybe she could thwart him by finding some perfectly innocuous passage to read out loud—but who was she trying to kid? There was no innocuous passage in the whole stupid book. That's why she had to be so careful about reading it, and why she kept coming back to it, truth be told.
She'd been staring at her feet, but now Marie risked a quick look at the man's face, to see if he'd changed his mind. He was still looking at her, hemming her in, waiting patiently, as if he knew she'd eventually give in and do just what he asked. For the second time, Marie felt a flare of indignation, and she latched onto it eagerly. She'd show him she wasn't intimidated. He'd probably lose interest if she acted like she wasn't embarrassed. With one defiant glance up at her tormentor, Marie opened the book at random and started to read.
To her horror, she'd selected the chapter where the Prince makes Beauty crawl on the floor at the inn and kneel at his feet while he eats. So much for not being embarrassed—although her voice started out strong, she hadn't gotten through a paragraph before her face flamed and her throat dried up. Good Lord, this was not the kind of stuff she would have shared with anyone, let alone a strange man! For them to be reading it together like this was obscene! And yet the images were working on her, the way they always did, and she saw herself again as Beauty, cringing and ashamed as she crawled naked in front of the villagers and the soldiers. As always, her skin seemed to tingle as if she were the one so mercilessly exposed, her nipples hardening, heat rushing to pool between her legs. Marie knew a terrible desire to take one step closer to the man, just to bring her itching, tingling breasts into contact with his hard chest.
She tried to continue reading but her voice had now completely vanished and all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strangled, incoherent whisper. She was sure he knew exactly why, too. But when she dared to glance up at him his expression was sympathetic.
"Your throat is dry. Wait a moment." He left her and Marie watched as he disappeared behind a door marked "Employees Only." Again she considered the possibility of escape...but now the thought seemed irrelevant. She felt as though her feet were rooted to the spot and that she wouldn't be able to move from it.
Unless he said she could.
So Marie simply waited--not reading the book, not thinking about anything—just staring at the door and waiting for him to return.
And in a moment he did, carrying a paper cup of water. But instead of simply handing it to her he held it up to her lips, his eyes on hers. Marie eagerly opened her mouth to drink but something about the way he was making her drink from his hand and the way he was holding her in his gaze seemed to arouse her even further. She fought to control her breathing as she drank, to not let him see the effect he was having on her.
But she was sure he knew.
When he took the now empty cup away from her lips he simply asked, "Better?" And when she nodded he nodded slowly in reply, as if agreeing with her, and said, "Continue."
Marie hesitated. She knew that, just on the next page, the princess was going to be spanked. She couldn't possibly read that part out loud! Please, let him stop me before then, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she read a little farther, in a halting, whispery voice, then trailed off before the prince gave the fatal order for Beauty's punishment. She closed the book defiantly, with a panicky little snap, but kept her gaze on the floor, her face red.
"What happens next?"
Marie felt her face get even redder as he spoke in that quiet, commanding voice. Damn the man—he had no mercy! But she realized vaguely that her embarrassment was now vying with some other feeling, some other impulse, which had everything to do with the man in front of her and the fact that she'd been waiting for years for someone to come along and give her orders, just as he was doing. And yes, she was still a little afraid of him, but she was also experiencing the most delicious anticipation, could hardly wait to know what he'd make her do next. So she took a deep breath and started to stammer, "She—well, she, um—"
"Look at me."
Marie was startled into doing just that, and when she encountered the heat in his gaze, her breath failed her again. Somehow, she managed to squeak, a bit desperately, "She gets spanked, Sir!" And then she clapped a hand over her mouth in astonishment, her face so dismayed it was comical. She couldn't believe she'd just called him that! But she realized that she was hornier now than she'd ever been in her life.
Completely flustered now, her face burning, Marie dropped her hand to grip the book again and watched to see if he would smile at her slip of the tongue.
Instead, he nodded again, gravely--the nod acknowledging not only the correctness of her statement but of the way she had addressed him. And that gaze...damn him, he knew exactly what she was feeling, she was sure of it; knew the effect he was having on her, knew she was just waiting for him to...
"That's right," he said, interrupting her thoughts with his matter-of-fact voice, "She gets spanked."
Marie knew he was no longer talking about the princess even before he lifted Beauty from her now trembling hands.
"Pull down your pants," he said, his voice soft but commanding.
Her instinct was to obey him, and Marie's hands went almost immediately to the button on her jeans. But then she froze, as it suddenly occurred to her that they were in public. The store was empty of people, but anyone walking past the giant windows facing the parking lot could see into the store, might even notice the man's head where it showed above the bookshelves.
He saw her eyes flick nervously towards the windows at the front of the store and responded with another brief, sympathetic smile. "Let's go somewhere more private," he said, and caught her arm again, leading her, unresisting, towards that same door he'd gone through earlier.
Marie's relief that the man had understood her fear only lasted a moment, before she was overcome with confusion. Oh, God, could she really about to willingly submit to a spanking from this total stranger? Was she really on the verge of pulling down her pants for him? It was not as if she was with a boy her own age, both of them disrobing while they made out in her dorm room. This was different—he was controlling the situation, controlling her, pushing and prodding just the right way to make her weak with desire. What would he do next? She couldn't help but wonder. Surely he'd make her bend over...the thought made her so hot she let out a little moan.
Reading Allowed Ch. 01
She tried to muffle it, unsuccessfully, and was mortified when her tormentor stopped in mid-step and turned to face her. The knowing look in his eyes made her want to melt into the ground.
He released her arm, stood close to her and said, "I see you're in a hurry." His voice was as calm as if he was discussing the weather. "Pull down your pants. Now."
They were still out in the store, at the very back, just outside the "Employees Only" door. But Marie knew that he was right: that she was going to do what he told her to do; that she was so aroused now that she would do it even if they were standing in the store window.
She looked down and watched, hypnotized, while her hands unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans...then tugged them past her hips. Then, unable to help herself, she raised her eyes to his, desperate to see him watching her as she slowly lowered her pants to her thighs...then her knees...and finally to her ankles, the very act of bending, then crouching in order to do so while holding his gaze sending a shudder of pleasure through her as if he were the one bending her over.
Which he was, Marie realized.
She stood up as slowly as she had bent, her arms hanging by her sides, her gaze never leaving his for an instant. When she was fully upright, however, she watched his gaze travel downward to take in the lacy pink panties she was now displaying to him—and for the first time that day she was very glad she had worn them.
His reaction was a laconic, but appreciative, "Mmmm."
Then he simply turned and disappeared through the door, leaving it open and calling "Back here," over his shoulder as he went.
Marie was stunned for a moment. Was he expecting her to-- Yes, obviously he was. Marie stood, clenching and unclenching her fists. Then, with her pants still around her ankles she shuffled through the door after him, cursing him—first for humiliating her this way, and then for knowing it was exactly what she wanted.
He didn't even have the decency to look away while she awkwardly made her way into the room. No, he had turned to face her and stood there staring unapologetically. He seemed amused. He indicated with a gesture that she should continue to come forward, and as she did, Marie furtively looked around. They were in the employees' break room. There were a couple of vending machines, a refrigerator, a sink, and two long folding tables, pushed together end to end. A few boxes of new merchandise and promotional materials for the store were stacked around.
Marie stopped when she was still a few feet away from him and looked up uncertainly. He was staring at the wispy pink triangle that covered her mound. She quelled an obscene urge to push her hips forward, give him a better view. He met her eyes, then said, "Turn around," making a pirouetting motion with his finger.
When she hesitated a bit too long, reluctant to resume her awkward shuffle, he suddenly snapped, "Now!"
Marie jumped and rushed to spin around, but when her back was to him he said, "Stop." She obediently froze. Her heart pounded. She could feel him staring at her ass. Her skin tingled, and again she had to resist the impulse to push it towards him. She knew he'd be able to see how damp her panties had gotten if she did that, and her embarrassment made her stay still.
"Turn," he said again, and Marie started to complete her circle, but he stopped her again before she was through, and she found herself facing the table. She gave a startled gasp as she felt his hand on her back, warm even through her clothes, and she let him guide her a few steps closer to the table.
"Put your hands on the table."
Marie did, bending forward at the waist.
"Now, put your nose to the table," came his voice, and God help her, she did that too, aware that her ass was now sticking obscenely up into the air. She was barely aware that she moaned again, and that she was breathing loudly out of her mouth. She felt his breath brush her ear as he said softly, "Good girl," and a surge of intense pleasure went through her at the praise.
She heard his footsteps retreating...then the loud click of the door as it latched closed. Marie suddenly wished they hadn't come into this room. The door closing seemed to say to her, No turning back now. She started to shake.
He was coming back towards her. Marie heard his footsteps approaching and gritted her teeth against what she was sure would be an immediate, open-handed slap to her behind.
The footsteps stopped just behind her.
There was silence.
Marie imagined him studying her behind as if deciding on the most sensitive place to land his first below. Slowly raising his hand to shoulder height...then back, ready to strike. She felt the muscles of her behind tensing in anticipation and at the same time was shocked to feel tears well up and begin to run down her cheeks and drip from her quivering chin.
The silence continued. And continued.
Oh Christ, why didn't he begin? The waiting was killing her! What the hell was he waiting for?
Her entire body was shaking now. She couldn't stand the torture another second. She lifted her head and prepared to push herself upright...
...Only to be shoved back into position, hard enough to bang her nose on the table, by his hand on the back of her head. She cried out with the pain of it and struggled briefly to free herself from his hand, but to no avail. He simply continued to hold her in place until she subsided. Only then was his hand removed.
The silence continued as she calmed herself and allowed her anger—some of it, anyway—to drain.
Only when Marie was completely settled into her position again did he finally speak.
He said only one word: "Ask."
Marie's whole body stiffened. Ask to be spanked by him? He had to be kidding. She couldn't possibly—she opened her mouth to protest, got as far as "But—" before she caught herself. Of course. It fit the pattern. That bastard wasn't going to let her pretend, even for a second, that she didn't want this, that she was an innocent victim. If she wanted him to spank her, and oh, God, she did, then she was going to have to beg for it.
With a valiant effort, Marie choked out, "Please...Sir, will you..." Her voice came out a trembling whisper, and it didn't help that she was talking into the table, so it wasn't surprising when he said, "What?"
She turned her head to one side and tried again. "Please, Sir—"
"I can't hear you."
In that moment, Marie hated him. She felt her hands fisting in frustration and suddenly growled, in a much louder voice, "I want you to spank me!"
She couldn't see his face, but could picture him raising his eyebrows at her outburst, smiling in that supercilious way. She blushed. Before he could admonish her, she quickly added, "Please," in a softer tone. After another pause, she gritted out, "Sir."
He must have leaned down from her blind side because suddenly his lips were almost touching her ear as he said, softly, "I know."
It was such a stupid, obvious thing to say. Of course he knew that was what she wanted—why else would she be in such a ridiculous, humiliating position? Hadn't he just forced her to ask for it?
But something about the way he'd said it --intimately, caressingly, so close to her—implied a depth of knowledge far beyond those two simple words. Knowledge of her, Marie, and her most secret, shameful desires; needs she'd never dared to admit even to herself.
He knew. Oh God yes, he knew—and that simple fact sent Marie right to the edge of orgasm; would have sent her right over the edge if she hadn't clamped down on herself, biting her lip, to prevent it.
She fought it down... and then wondered why she had done so.
His hands were gently lifting her head, returning it to its nose-down position.
Because he didn't tell me I could, she suddenly realized—and had to fight off yet another orgasm at this sudden knowledge of his power over her.
Power she had surrendered to him.
Oh God, her panties were sopping wet. She felt his hands releasing her head and wanted them back. She wanted...she wanted...Oh Christ...
She began to beg, realizing dimly that she'd lost the last shred of her self-control. She was babbling, nearly incoherently, "Oh, God, please do something...please help me...I need—I need..."
He silenced her with a hard swat to her upraised ass. "Be quiet," he snapped. Marie, still trying to catch her breath after the shock of that first blow, was incapable of speech, but she felt a little shiver of pleasure at his firm tone.
And then, all at once, it had begun. Whack! Whack! Marie started to weep again almost immediately, although she tried to stifle her cries. Her arousal momentarily lessened with the pain of the spanking. In all the years she'd dreamed of this very thing happening to her, she'd never thought it would hurt this much. He certainly wasn't going easy on her.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
When Marie started to wiggle desperately, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and squirming under his hand, the man paused. He ran his hand over her reddened cheeks, slipped one finger under the edge of her panties and followed the line of the fabric down...down...
Marie held her breath. Please, please, let him touch me... All her desire came flooding back, stronger than before. She closed her eyes. She moaned out loud.
Suddenly he grabbed her braids, pulled her head up, and slid the book under her nose. In dismay, Marie saw that it was open to the same page she'd been reading out loud in the store. She'd forgotten he had it.
Oh God, she had been so close, so close...and now he wanted her to read again? Jesus H. Fuck, she was so horny she couldn't focus her eyes, let alone read.
There was no way, and she started to turn her head to tell him so...just as he grabbed hold of her panties and jerked her up until her feet left the floor, the crotch digging painfully between her legs. Then with his free hand he landed another vicious slap on the now exposed cheeks of her behind and roared, "I...said...READ!"
The flare of anger Marie felt this time was brief and promptly faded. Her predominant impulse was to obey him as quickly as she could. "Okay, okay!" she gasped out, relieved when he lowered her feet back to the floor. He didn't let go of her panties, though, and the thin fabric felt delicious pressing against her pussy, and, ever so slightly, against her hungry clit. She wanted badly to rock against it... Focus, she told herself, and determinedly turned her eyes to the open book.
The problem was, even if she were alone in her own room, Marie would have trouble reading this particular section out loud. It included Beauty's second spanking, ordered by the Prince and administered by the innkeeper's daughter—with a paddle. In the scene, the Prince's soldiers in the room watched with interest, while the curious villagers, pressed up against the windows outside the inn, had a perfect view of the mortified Beauty's crotch as she lay across the other girl's lap. The cool way the Prince handed her over to another, the use of the paddle, the crowd—why did these details make it so much worse? Marie licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath.
She yelped, but got the message. She had hesitated too long. Hurriedly, Marie read out the first sentence. She'd always been good at reading aloud, but now her voice came out shaky and quiet. When she came to the word "paddle," it dropped to a whisper and she stuttered.
So this is how it's going to be, Marie thought grimly. It made sense. If she were "in trouble" for reading BDSM erotica in public, spanking her while she read it out loud was an appropriate punishment.
But the punisher was not going to play fair, she soon discovered. As she recovered herself and tried to go on reading, his free hand started to explore again, stroking the silky skin of her inner thighs, brushing ever so lightly over the tight bulge of her pussy lips through the stretched fabric of her panties. When he did that, she completely lost her focus. She stopped in mid-sentence, gasping, "Oh! Yes..."
And so it went, for several paragraphs. Whenever she managed to focus on the page, he'd start touching her, and when she got distracted, or made the slightest error in her diction, he'd spank her hard until she was back on track.
After a while it no longer seemed to matter whether he was spanking her or stroking her, whether she was reading correctly or stumbling over every other word, whether she was Marie or Beauty. She had entered a beautiful, hazy dimension where every sensation was an erotic one, where she was always just seconds away from reaching an orgasm of life-altering intensity--if she could just...surrender...a little more deeply.
So she read and she was stroked and she stumbled and she was spanked and she knew that it would go on like that forever, and it made her very happy.
But eventually, with no idea of how it had happened or how long it had taken her, Marie reached the end of the chapter. She hesitated for a moment and was about to go on when the book was whisked away from beneath her face. Then his hands were on her shoulders and she was flipped over onto her back as easily as if she were a feather pillow.
Her legs would no longer support her and slid backwards beneath the table. Marie slithered downward and would have landed jarringly on her knees if he had not continued to hold her and let her down gently.
But the sudden change in position had shaken her awake. She opened her eyes, which had been half-closed, the better to enjoy her erotic dream-world...
...And found herself facing, at a distance of a few inches, the front of his pants.
She stared, transfixed, at the distinct bulge there. Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut and she licked her lips nervously. She didn't see the grimace, as if in pain, on the man's face when she did that. She reached out one hand, but just as she was about to touch him she suddenly came back to herself, yanked her hand back, and peeked nervously up at him. It occurred to her that she should have his permission before she grabbed his cock.
He smiled to reassure her, then his face was serious again as he said, "Take off your shirt."
She did, showing him the pretty, pink push-up bra that matched her panties. She couldn't resist watching for his reaction, and was gratified to see his eyes heat in appreciation. She felt suddenly powerful, on top of the world, even though she was on her knees and her pants were still bunched around her ankles. She suddenly wished he had tied her hands. She put them behind her back. She smiled up at him, and he nodded solemnly. She leaned forward and put her lips to the bulge in his pants.
They both moaned, and Marie felt her sense of power ratchet up another notch. She was submitting to his will--and loving every second of it--but right now she was in charge. She kissed him again, a little harder, right at the very top of the bulge and began working her way down, a kiss at a time, adding a little more pressure and lingering a little longer with each one. When she reached the bottom she opened her mouth and tried to reach his balls with her tongue through the thick fabric of his pants, her open mouth pressed against the crotch, her breath gasping through her nose.
"Ahhh...Christ!" she heard him moan. But even as she was savoring the effect she was having on him she felt her head being seized in his hands. And before she knew what was happening he had shoved her face against the front of his pants and was rubbing it back and forth and up and down, grunting like an animal as he crudely rutted against her.
Marie was shocked for a brief moment. Then she had an idea, and to her own amazement she managed to catch the tab of his zipper in her teeth as her mouth passed over his fly. When he pushed her head back down, the loud unzipping sound made him freeze. He looked at her and she released the zipper and gave him an impish grin.
He looked so enthralled that Marie almost giggled. She leaned forward again and carefully drew his zipper the rest of the way down, using only her teeth. She pressed her face into the gap and reached out with her tongue again, his thin cotton boxers the only barrier now between her mouth and his cock. She would have worked the button on his pants undone, too, but he made a sound of impatience and did it for her, pushing his boxers down at the same time and stepping out of his clothes.
Marie gulped. Now that she was faced with his cock, it looked huge. Huge and... delicious. She leaned toward it, as if mesmerized, and took him in her mouth. As if from far away, a little voice in her head was trying to tell her that she was crazy, that this was a total stranger, that they were in the back room of a bookstore—but she resolutely pushed those thoughts away. It felt so good to taste him, to please him, and she loved having his cock in her mouth. What would he do next, she wondered vaguely. Would he hold her down and fuck her hard, the way she was dying for him to? The thought made her pussy throb. She felt the wet spot in her panties growing and growing, and she went a little wild, sucking and licking him frantically, trying to swallow the whole length of him.
With a growl, he grabbed her arms and yanked her up and off her feet. He sat her down, none too gently, on top of the table, so that her ass rested at the very edge. He pushed against her shoulders and she obediently lay back. He was in control again, she thought, and felt exhilarated. Before she could bring her legs up to keep her balance, he was grabbing the waistband of her panties and yanking them off of her, finally divesting her of her pants at the same time, her flip flops having fallen off long before.
"Spread your legs," he ordered, a bit hoarsely.
Marie closed her eyes, shuddering with lust. She bent her knees and brought her heels up to rest on the table on either side of her ass, aware that her pussy lips stretched apart a little with the extreme position, aware that he could see everything. Yes...yes... her hips started to pump uncontrollably, and Marie knew that she was going to come. Oh, God, she was so close...
A sharp pain brought Marie back to earth. Her eyes flew open. He had reached into her bra and was pinching one of her nipples hard, looking into her eyes. His face was so close she gasped in surprise.
"You...do not come, unless I say you can," he growled.
He seized her bra in both hands and tore it apart, then yanked it from beneath her and threw it on the floor, leaving her completely naked. He grabbed her braids again with one hand and began slapping her breasts with the other, just hard enough to make them tingle and burn.
"You...belong...to me—is that understood?" he went on. "Your tits." He slapped them again. "Your mouth." He shoved three fingers so deeply into her mouth that she began to choke, and then just as quickly removed them. "Your ass." He inserted his middle finger up her passage to the knuckle of his hand, making her scream with the shock of it. "And your pussy," he concluded, using his thumb to press down on her clitoris.
Marie cried out and writhed and groaned and whimpered nonsense as he went on tormenting her ruthlessly...wonderfully.
"You...belong...to me! You...are my property!" He jerked her braids upward until her face was literally touching his, and his eyes burned into hers. "Say it," he told her. And when she didn't immediately respond he jerked her head back and forth by her braids. "Say it!"
Marie was a little frightened by his intensity, but the thing was, she agreed with him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to be his, to have him continue to torture her so deliciously, to have him put his cock in her. She'd do almost anything if only he'd fuck her. "Yes!" she cried, her voice trembling with passion and a little bit of fear. "Yes, I'm...yours. I—I—" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I belong to you." She closed her eyes, feeling herself blush once again, wondering if he saw her pussy spasm as she said the words.
BDSM : Reading Allowed Ch. 01
He let go of her hair, and lowered her head back to rest on the table. But he stayed leaning over her for a moment longer, standing between her spread legs, his face close to hers, and she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You...your cock—it just makes me so horny." She thought she saw his lips twitch as if he were holding back a smile. "It's so hard to hold it back, Sir," she finished, dropping her gaze.
As apologies went, it was pretty damn good, he thought. He was secretly charmed. He brushed his lips over her forehead, her closed eyelids, and murmured, for the second time, "Good girl."
Again, Marie felt joy and relief wash over her at his words. She thought she'd do anything, anytime, to hear him praise her like that. The feeling was quickly replaced by trepidation, however, as he returned his attention to her pussy. She was already burning and wet; how was she supposed to avoid climaxing under his skillful hands? She'd never in her life attempted not to come when she was this horny—if she'd ever even been this horny.
The first thing he did was use both hands to pull her outer lips apart, and then just stood, looking. Marie immediately felt herself coming close to the edge. She moaned, loud and long, and thrashed her head from side to side. He looked up. "I haven't even started yet," he said.
Good Lord, he was teasing her! Didn't he know how hard she was trying to obey him? Couldn't he see how desperate she was? For God's sake, her pussy was practically dripping. She whimpered.
"I can help you," he said, "but it's going to hurt. Do you want that?"
She took a deep breath. "I want...I want to please you," she stammered, hoping that was the right answer.
He stood up and walked away from her without another word. For Marie it was if he'd thrown a bucket of ice-water over her. Had she given the wrong answer? Was this how it would end—he was just going to leave her there? She started to raise herself up on her elbows...
Just as he returned. He saw what she was doing and without breaking his stride simply pointed a forefinger at her...and Marie collapsed back onto the table as if he had physically pushed her down. She gasped with relief.
And then she gasped with pain, and then shrieked out loud as it suddenly doubled. She tried instinctively to reach for the source of her agony—her breasts—but found her wrists pinned to the table under his hands. She began to thrash wildly on the table as she looked down and saw the two large paper-clamps--the spring-driven, sharp-edged metal ones for thick bundles of paper—that he had attached to her nipples. For a moment she panicked, afraid her nipples would be damaged irreparably, but then she looked at his face as he stared, fascinated, at the clips, and she calmed somewhat. For some reason, she trusted him. He must know what he's doing, she thought. And she realized how sexy she must look to him, writhing helplessly in pain.
Somehow she'd managed to keep her heels up on the table, maintaining her spread position. When her wild struggling subsided, and she was just whimpering helplessly at the burning pain in her nipples, he released her wrists and stroked her wide-open thighs. "You're doing great," he said soothingly, and Marie felt absurdly proud. "Don't move your hands," he added.
The initial pain had lessened, and Marie thought she could stand it now. He'd been right, though, about it taking her mind off of her pussy. Her concentration was divided between her clamped nipples and her hungry pussy as he returned his attention to her crotch.
She was able to hold still as he stroked her outer lips, and even when he slid one long finger into her, though she panted and grunted with the effort to keep from humping it. But then he used his other hand to pinch her clit, and her whole body jerked. Crying out, she instinctively grabbed for his hand, trying to force him to release the horrible pressure on her sensitive bud, which was making intense sensations of pain and pleasure shoot through her body. "I told you not to move your hands!" he snapped. "Put them back—now." Sobbing, Marie obeyed, and felt him release her clit at last.
But then he started rubbing it, simultaneously sliding his finger in and out, and she arched her back. It seemed now that the clips on her nipples were not distracting her, but only allowing her arousal to climb higher, the pain somehow blending with the crazy pleasure of his hands on her. "Oh, please!" she wailed.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table then clawed at its surface as she tried desperately to obey his command to keep them still. But it was so fucking hard when he was standing right there between her legs with his huge erection plainly visible as he stroked her to madness—and her entire being was overwhelmed with the desire to seize him by the shoulders and pull him down on top of her.
"Please!" she cried out again, knowing that she couldn't hold out much longer without her entire body shaking itself to pieces.
He continued to work on her, but allowed a tiny hint of a smile to cross his features. "Please...what?"
"Please..." Oh god, she didn't know! Let me come...keep torturing me...make me beg some more! "Please..."
And then it burst out of her, from a place of need so deep that it seemed her whole life had been building up to this moment.
"Fuck me, Sir! ...FUCK ME!"
He hooked his arms under her knees to push her legs back towards her chest then entered her with a single, powerful thrust.
That was all it took for Marie. She screamed as her entire body tightened in rapture. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her toes curled and uncurled, her hands clawed at the table, and then she had no more breath to scream, but kept coming and coming as he fucked her violently, his cock touching her womb, his pelvis mashing her clit with each thrust.
He had never felt anything like it. She was clamped down on him like a vise, her vagina clenching with relentless pressure as he plundered it. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to hold back his own orgasm, but he soon realized he couldn't hold out and allowed himself to speed up, pistoning in and out like a jackhammer until finally he felt it begin.
He grabbed her throat in one hand and squeezed just enough to make her open her glazed eyes. "Fuck, I'm coming in you!" he growled. "You...are...MINE!" As his cock began to spurt, he yanked the clips off of her nipples, and, unbelievably, the sudden pain as the blood rushed back to them sent her into a new series of spasms, prolonging his climax, until finally he collapsed on top of her.
When Marie came back to earth, his head was on her chest, nestled between her breasts. His cock was still inside her, and her legs were wrapped around his back. She ran her hands through his peppery hair, over his back, stroking. She'd just had sex with a total stranger in the bookstore. Not only that, she'd submitted to him, begged him to spank her, to fuck her, to let her come. She smiled.
When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, she was still smiling in satisfaction. Her eyes shone with adoration. He smiled back, and they both savored the moment. Then his smile faded and he said sternly, "You came without my permission."
He abruptly stood up, his cock sliding out of her with an audible slurping sound. He reached down to the floor and picked up her panties. He used them to wipe off his cock, still glistening with their combined juices, then did the same for Marie's pussy, roughly, as if wiping down a piece of furniture.
Then in the same brusque manner he proceeded to use her panties to wipe their juices all over Marie's face. Then he seized her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet, saying, "Don't wash your face before tomorrow night."
He held up her panties. "I'll keep these in the cash register. Every piece of change I hand out tomorrow is going to smell like your cunt. Tomorrow at closing time you will meet me at the register. You will apologize for coming without permission and then beg me to punish you."
And with that he scooped up the rest of her clothes with one hand, seized her wrist with the other and dragged her out of the break room and down a short hallway to a door.
He jammed her clothes under his arm and pushed the door open. Marie barely had time to register that it was an unlit alleyway that ran behind all the stores on that block before she was yanked in front of him and then shoved, stumbling, naked, out onto the cold asphalt.
He threw her clothes after her. A moment later her backpack followed. Then without another word he slammed the door.
Reading Allowed Ch. 02
* * * * *
The day was endless and agonizing for Marie. She'd been tempted to stay in bed. Surely, if she went to class and work and followed her normal routine, everyone who crossed her path would somehow be able to tell that she'd been a very, very naughty girl the night before. Recalling her behavior made Marie groan and bury her head under the covers.
There was no way she could blame anyone but herself—he'd made sure of that. No, she had made the choice to stay behind in the store, to pull down her pants for him. She had begged him—begged him! —to spank her, to fuck her. She couldn't help imagining how her mother, her grandparents, or her professors would react if they knew. The thought made her physically cringe. Why, she'd been shameless, a total slut. She was supposed to be a nice girl, date some nice boy here, and eventually marry him. She was a nice girl—but for as long as she could remember, there was this part of her, some deep, mysterious, primitive part of her, that had craved being dominated, being in someone's power. When she was very young, she hadn't known that her fantasies of being tied up, held captive, or enslaved were sexual, just that they brought her pleasure. Now she knew—but until last night she had only been able to guess just how thrilling it would be when one of her fantasies finally came true.
It had taken the bright light of morning to bring on her regrets. Last night, after she'd hurriedly dressed in the dark alley behind the bookstore and driven back to campus, hyper-conscious of the fact that she wore no panties, Marie had flung herself on her bed and masturbated feverishly. Recalling the whole evening in detail, what he'd said to her, what he'd done to her, she'd come three times before finally dropping into an exhausted sleep.
At first, when he'd shoved her out the door without a single affectionate word, Marie had been hurt. Is he really that eager for me to be gone? But then she remembered how he'd praised her, how he'd told her she belonged to him, and how he was going to keep her panties with him all day, and she smiled. And he wanted her to come back.
Now, going through the motions of her ordinary routine, this was the question that tortured Marie: Was she going to go back, or wasn't she? She was tempted to hide in her room tonight, take a solemn vow never to set foot in the bookstore again. He'd told her to ask to be punished. What would he do, she wondered. Would he spank her again? Or would he think up something... worse? She shuddered.
But Marie's body knew no hesitation. Every time she thought about going back, her pussy would heat, her nipples start to tingle. She was so horny she had to fight down the urge to blow off her afternoon classes in order to masturbate back in her room.
In the end, it was the thought of his reaction to her absence that decided Marie. She pictured him, glancing at her panties throughout the day where they lay nestled in his cash register drawer; she pictured him thinking of her. He expected her. She imagined his disappointment and anger if she didn't show up. No, she wouldn't disappoint him like that.
But Marie also decided she had to talk to him. He had seemed so wise, and he had seemed, somehow, to know the very core of her. Maybe if she told him about her conflicting feelings, her confusion over her own behavior, he'd be able to reassure her. She just couldn't spend another day torturing herself like this. She needed some answers.
Somehow she managed to make herself wait until just before closing time before driving back to the bookstore. She spent the time pacing back and forth in her room, trying not to think about the events of the night before or imagine what might happen when she went back. Because she knew that if she did she'd be unable to resist the urge to masturbate. And even though she had done so the previous night she somehow knew that he would disapprove if she did so now.
And that nagged at her too. How could he possibly know whether she had masturbated or not—and why should she care if he approved or not?
But he would...and she did.
She agonized over what to wear. Should she dress the same way as yesterday? Should she wear something girly and feminine? Something slutty? And why did she want so desperately to please this man she hardly knew?
In the end, Marie obeyed her strongest instinct and went for "cute." She was hardly a femme fatale, after all. When she stepped out of her car in the bookstore parking lot, she had on a short, fluttery skirt, a pale pink top, and sandals with a low heel. She'd left her straight blonde hair down and wore minimal makeup. Her bra and panties were both white, and the panties had a little pink bow on the waistband in front. She'd always meant to cut it off and had never gotten around to it. Now, she was hoping her intuition was correct and that he'd like it.
It was late when the bookstore closed, and long past dark outside. But he saw her from the windows when she crossed through the bright pool from a streetlight in the parking lot. She was walking somewhat stiffly, as if propelling herself forward out of sheer determination, and hugging her purse to her chest with crossed arms.
He allowed himself to feel a measure of relief. He'd known he hadn't been wrong about her, but if she hadn't shown up, it would have meant she wasn't ready. He thought of the wisp of pink lace buried in his cash drawer. Yes, that would have been a shame.
Then she was there, standing quietly across from the checkout counter, waiting for him to finish with the last couple of customers. Their eyes met once, and she gave him a trembling little smile which he thought was adorable. He didn't smile back, and after that she waited with her eyes on the floor.
She kept her gaze lowered, still hugging herself nervously, as he went through the routine of closing the store. No one seemed to have noticed that she had stayed behind as he locked the doors. When he had finished the close, he walked past her, and without saying a word, headed for the staff room at the back of the store. He'd stashed some supplies from home in there early this morning, and now he retrieved them, started arranging them neatly on the long folding table where they'd fucked last night.
A minute or two later, she appeared in the doorway, and he watched her eyes go straight to the stuff on the table. They widened as she took in the sight of the handcuffs, several different lengths of rope, nipple clamps connected by a short chain, three different types of gags, a leather belt, and thin, menacing wooden paddle. She stared, transfixed, until finally he got impatient and snapped, "Look at me."
When she did, dragging her eyes reluctantly away from the fascinating and forbidding array of toys, he said, "Come here."
He mentally held his breath. This second encounter was crucial, and he wasn't entirely sure she wasn't going to flee at any moment. She wanted it, yes—he could see the temptation and longing in her eyes when she looked at his supplies. But all her reactions last night had been those of a woman experiencing BDSM for the first time, and she'd had twenty-four hours to convince herself that she'd done something sinful and dirty. In all probability, they were going to have to have a serious talk. But first he wanted to test her. If she submitted to him now, while she was still plagued by uncertainty, it would bode well for the future.
Marie hesitantly came forward. She was trembling. At the sight of the stuff on the table, she'd felt a surge of excitement and arousal that had gone straight to her pussy. She wanted so badly to let him use that stuff on her... but she was confused, and a little scared. What if it was more than she could handle? Wasn't she crazy to even think about letting a total stranger tie her up? Her heart pounded.
When she stopped a few feet from him, he said, "Now, don't you have something you want to ask me?"
Marie's mind raced. She had never worked out how to bring up the subject of her doubts about last night, about what she was doing back here again. Now that she was here, she wasn't sure she wanted to interrupt this fascinating game they were playing—if it was a game. She wasn't sure about that either. Just play along for now, she decided finally. If it gets to be too much, then you can make him stop. At least, she hoped she could make him stop—she was relying heavily on that instinct that told her she could trust him.
She tried to look into his eyes, but her gaze slid away as she said haltingly, "Please—please punish me."
"Punish you? For what?"
Blushing furiously, Marie stammered, "For—for coming... without your permission."
He took two steps forward, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look at him. "And why can't you come without my permission...princess?" he asked softly. He released her chin and was pleased to see that she kept her eyes on his a little longer this time before they dropped to the floor.
Distracted by the name he'd called her, Marie cast about in her mind for the right answer. He had called her princess—and suddenly all the things he had made her read out loud the previous night, all the images of that princess's humiliation, came rushing into her mind and stopped her breath. Her arousal began to soar as the answer to his question became obvious.
"Because—because—I'm your property," she finally managed, her voice subsiding to a strangled whisper. Her pussy heated, and she felt her nipples harden as she said it.
She looked so vulnerable, standing there with her face flaming and her body trembling, and he could hardly wait to get his hands on her. But he wasn't quite through toying with her. What else could he make her do for him?
He took her purse from her and tossed it onto the table behind her, then turned back to her and said. "Show me your panties."
Marie almost moaned out loud. God, she just loved the sound of his voice when he gave an order like that. Her hands went to the hem of her skirt and she raised it slowly to her waist, letting him see her white panties with their little bow.
"Lift it higher."
Marie obeyed, bunching the fabric in her hands and lifting it high out of the way, baring her legs and ass. She suddenly wished her breasts were naked, too. They felt swollen and confined in her shirt, her nipples tingling.
"Turn around." She turned her back to him, letting him look his fill at her pert, panty-covered bottom. "Now bend over."
This time Marie did moan. She bent at the waist, hyper-aware suddenly of the way her panties stretched over her cheeks. She had the urge to spread her legs, to make the fabric even tighter. She shuffled her feet a little further apart. She thought maybe he would touch her, thought all at once that she might die if he didn't touch her, but before she could moan again he was saying, "Stand up and turn around."
She did, and he noticed she was panting slightly. Her face was still flushed and her pupils were dilated. "Those are very nice panties, princess," he said, and watched her close her eyes, take a deep breath, then open them again. "Did you wear them just for me?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, without hesitation, and he was pleased that she was sinking deeper into her role. But then, abruptly, she gasped, and her whole body went rigid. She clapped her hand to her mouth, a gesture he remembered from the night before.
Marie felt her stomach sink as it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't obeyed all his orders. When he complimented her panties, it had come back to her... After she got out of bed this morning, she'd taken a shower and automatically washed her face, as she did every morning. She had completely forgotten that he'd told her not to! "I washed my face!" she blurted out, confessing before she could stop herself. She saw him raise his eyebrows and looked away, wondering that she felt so ashamed of herself. "I just did it without thinking," she added miserably.
He'd been momentarily nonplussed by the outburst, but he hoped he hadn't shown it. Now, as she stood there obviously waiting for him to rain condemnation down on her, he just said mildly, "Did I tell you could drop your skirt?"
She blanched visibly and groped for her hem, hastily yanking her skirt back up to her waist. He couldn't help smiling. It was very gratifying to have her at such a disadvantage. "You've been a very bad girl, haven't you?"
Ohhhhh... Marie felt a sudden spasm in her pussy at his words, followed by a moment of sheer terror as she felt herself teetering on the edge of orgasm. She bit her lip, hard, as she began to hyperventilate. Oh, God, if she came now, without his permission...
"Look at me!" His voice was a lash and Marie forced herself to meet his glance. Having to look into his eyes, to see him watching her while she fought down her orgasm, knowing that he knew exactly what was happening to her made it so much more difficult...oh, God, impossible! She was losing control, she was going to... NO!
She fell to her knees. She threw her arms around his legs and hugged herself to them. Then she burst into tears.
"I'm...I'm so sorry, Sir!" she sobbed, her voice muffled against him. "I'm a ve-very b-b-bad little girl...S-Sir!"
She felt the orgasm retreating as she spoke and almost fainted with relief. She continued to cry for a moment, her chest heaving, then made herself look up at him. With tears still streaming down her face she begged, "Please... Please p-punish me, Sir!"
He stared down at her, his face expressionless, for a long moment, and Marie was sure he was going to order her to leave and never return, which only increased her sobbing. But she held his glance and waited. And when he finally spoke his voice was warm and even held a touch of humor.
"Well, for starters you can lick your snot off my pants."
Marie was so relieved she felt weak. He wasn't disgusted with her. A little bemused, maybe, but he wasn't going to kick her out of the store. Well, she was bemused by her own behavior, too. What possessed her to grovel at his feet like this, crying like a little girl? She should be worried about it, but the truth was, Marie felt better now than she had all day. Maybe she just needed an emotional release. Maybe he wouldn't reduce her to a sobbing wreck the next time they met.
But for now she had to figure out if he was serious about licking her own snot. She peeked up at him. He certainly looked serious. Well, she was in enough trouble already, she thought. She should at least try... Gingerly, she stuck out her tongue and leaned towards the big wet stain near the knee of his jeans.
She looked so disgusted when her tongue made contact, her eyes squeezed shut and her nose wrinkled, that he was hard pressed not to laugh. Like Marie, he was also feeling relieved. It was obvious that something in her had snapped, allowing her to transcend her inhibitions in his presence. And now, bless her heart, she was valiantly trying to clean up the mess she'd made crying all over him. He was pleased. But he wasn't about to go easy on her.
"Get up," he ordered, and again had to fight off a smile as she stood, then belatedly remembered to hold up her skirt, grappling with the hem and glancing at him with trepidation. He was going to have to make her do something sexy right away, because if she kept being cute, he was going to start grinning and that would ruin the mood.
He began unfastening his belt.
Marie stared, fascinated. She felt a little foolish and very vulnerable standing there holding up her skirt, especially since she could tell without even looking that the crotch of her panties was visibly wet. And what was he going to do now? Unfastening his belt could mean any number of things—was he going to fuck her? Whip her?
She watched the thin black leather sliding out from his belt loops. Watched him double the belt in his hands and flex it a couple of times. She waited to be told to bend over, her breath beginning to accelerate again.
She was mystified at first when he slid the end of the belt through its buckle again and pulled the belt into a small loop. But then he seized her wrists and brought them together in one of his hands so that she had to drop her skirt. With a quick, dexterous move he slipped the loop over her hands and tightened it around her wrists, binding them tightly together.
He quickly looped the belt around her wrists a couple of more times then threaded the end through the entire loop and pulled it out to its full length. Marie's attention darted back and forth between what he was doing and the intense, focused expression on his face. If she hadn't felt like his property before she certainly did now. Oh, God, what was he going to do to her?
She found out immediately, as he used the end of the belt to jerk her arms up over her head then dragged her over to a set of metal bookshelves bolted to one side of the hallway. They reached all the way to the ceiling and were filled with haphazardly stacked books and a few cartons. He spun her around and pressed her back against the shelves, then pulled up on the belt that tied her wrists until she was forced to stand on her toes, gasping. Only then did he loop the end of the belt around one of the supports and tie it off.
When he was satisfied that his knot would hold he stood back to admire his handiwork. Marie watched his gaze travel slowly from her wrists to her face—she didn't dare speak—and linger momentarily on her breasts before continuing on down to where she was practically dancing on her toes. The backs of her sandals were flopping in mid-air and he bent down on one knee to remove them, placing them to one side.
He stood again, his face close to hers now. He studied her closely for a moment, his eyes intent. Then he said, "I thought I told you to hold up your skirt."
He was so deadpan in his delivery that for a moment Marie thought he was serious. But then she saw the glint in his eyes and had to repress a smile. "Sorry, Sir," was all she trusted herself to say.
He made little tsking noises as he raised the front of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband. Then he made her gasp again by thrusting his hand between her legs and roughly fondling her there for a moment, his eyes on hers the entire time. Then he withdrew his hand saying, "Your panties are wet. Are they wet for me?"
"Yesssssss.... Yes, Sir. My panties are wet for you, Sir," Marie managed to say, in a cross between a whisper and a groan.
He walked away. This time, though, Marie knew he would return, and he did. He stopped in front of her.
"Have you ever seen these before?" He held up the short chain with the nipple clamps at either end.
She hadn't, but she could guess what they were for. She recalled the pain of the binder clips on her nipples the night before and shivered. "No, Sir," she whispered.
"What do you think they're for, princess?" he murmured, his face very close to hers.
"They're so you can—can—cla—" she began, but her voice dried up under the heat of his intense gaze. Her nipples throbbed as if they knew they were under discussion. She squirmed in her bondage, instinctively trying to cover her breasts, soothe the ache in them with her hands.
"I suggest you finish that thought," he was saying, quietly, silkily, "or you'll wear these for twice as long." He opened one of the clamps and let it spring shut, demonstrating the force of its rubber-covered jaws. He reached for her shirt and started to pull it up.
"They're so you can clamp my—my nipples!" Marie finally cried out. He paused to look into her eyes, the wicked gleam back in his
is own as he said, "Exactly."
Reading Allowed Ch. 02
As he was pushing her shirt, then her bra, up above her breasts, Marie was thinking how diabolically clever of him it was to force her to narrate this experience, to make her beg for everything he did to her. She was allowed no chance to escape into sensation. How easy it would be to get drunk on her arousal, on the very idea that this was her deepest, truest fantasy coming to life. How easy to be innocently swept away by lust, to not think about exactly what she was doing. But he wouldn't let her. He was forcing her to be totally present in this moment, forcing her to feel everything—the lust, but also the uncertainty and the fear and the shame, all of it swirling together to make her feel so intensely alive, making her body tremble...
Her thoughts evaporated as he took one of her nipples into his mouth.
She moaned, and her back arched of its own accord as he held her nipple between his lips and teased it with the tip of his tongue. But he continued just long enough to bring it fully erect then withdrew, leaving her gasping for a moment before he turned his attention to her other nipple.
Oh, she wanted to cradle his head with her hands, run her fingers through his hair, press herself more deeply into his mouth. But she was completely helpless.
It was wonderful.
She tried to watch him as he teased her with his lips and tongue, knowing that he wanted her fully present for him at all times, but as she became more aroused she was unable to stop her eyes from closing as she began to drift off into a world of pure sensation...
"UHH!" she cried out, as a shock of pain traveled from one nipple straight down to her loins. Her eyes flew open and she looked down just in time to see him attaching the second clamp to the nipple he had just been teasing. The shock repeated itself but this time Marie was more prepared and managed to confine her reaction to a small grunt. It wasn't nearly as bad as the binder clips he had used on her last night, she thought...
...Until he seized the chain between the clips with his hand and began lifting it straight up, slowly. Her nipples and then her breasts began to stretch, and then burn with pain, and she began to dance on the very tips of her toes in an attempt to lessen the intensity. She whimpered with the pain. Her eyes began to water and she stared beseechingly into his eyes, but his expression was merciless.
He put his face against hers. "Pay...ATTENTION!" he whispered harshly.
Without moving his face or releasing the chain he shoved a knee between her legs and kicked her feet apart, causing her heels to sink to the floor and the pressure on her nipples to increase to a level of pure agony.
Then with his free hand he began to spank her pussy.
He wasn't hitting her hard, and when Marie cried out it was with surprise. Her body jerked with his first slap and the movement increased the pain in her nipples. She did her best to hold still, even though her nipples were on fire, even though tears ran down her face... but the spanks between her legs were coming regularly, rhythmically, and she suddenly found herself wishing he would spank her harder. Her pussy felt swollen and hungry, and she found herself torn between the two sensations, the sharp ache in her breasts and the dull, pulsing ache between her legs. The tension was unbearable. Her eyes had been squeezed closed, but now she opened them to look at him and gasped out, "Oh, please... I'll pay attention, I promise, Sir! Please let go—it hurts!"
His hand kept spanking her, a little harder now, his words coming in rhythm with the blows. "Tell me what a bad girl you are."
She hesitated, and he suddenly gave the nipple clamps a hard yank. She squealed and shook her head desperately, but she cried, "I'm—I've been a very bad girl, Sir!" Her voice broke. "Please—please punish me!" God, she'd beg him all day as long as he'd keep spanking her like that, giving her clit what it wanted...
But he stopped. Instead, his hand cupped her through her damp panties, his fingers pressing, stroking, but avoiding the one place she most needed his touch. He let go of the nipple clamps, but didn't remove them. Marie was on her toes immediately, shamelessly trying to arch her hips and press her crotch against his hand. He deftly avoided her, whisking his hand away. He leaned in close, lightly brushing her ear with his lips as he murmured, "Oh, I intend to punish you, princess. I intend to punish you very well."
He ran his hands lightly over her body, unable to resist giving the clamps a little twist, making her flinch. When he reached her hips he snagged the waistband of her panties and jerked them quickly down and over her feet. As she stood there, stretched and unable to resist, he pried open her jaw with his thumb and shoved them deep into her mouth. "Don't you dare spit them out," he warned, then walked away without another word.
Marie was confused. He promised to punish her—so spanking her pussy, putting clamps on her nipples, and gagging her with her own panties, wet with her arousal, wasn't punishment? The nipple clamps had sure felt like punishment. She looked down at her breasts, at the angry purple color of her nipples as they were crushed securely in the clamps.
Or maybe this was the punishment, being left here to suffer in frustrated arousal, the desire he had so cruelly and efficiently roused to a fever pitch. Marie thought to her shame that at this moment she would probably hump anything that came near her crotch. Her nipples seemed to have gone numb and she even wished for that pain to return, just to have some kind of sensation.
No, Marie thought as the long minutes passed and he did not return, this is the punishment. Being left here, alone and exposed, defenseless—it was horrible. She couldn't help picturing what she must look like with her shirt and bra pushed up over her breasts, her nipples clamped, her pussy naked and a wad of panties poking out of her mouth. Oh, God, if someone from school were to see her like this... She shuddered. It didn't bear thinking of.
It was getting cold in the hallway. Marie's mouth was dry from the gag and goose bumps rose on her skin. She felt tears prick her eyes. Why didn't he come back? Didn't he know she'd do anything he wanted, as long as he didn't leave her alone here any longer?
She quieted her breathing as much as she could and strained to listen, hoping desperately to hear the sound of his returning footsteps.
She was cold now, and her calves and shoulders ached terribly. Suddenly she heard, through the wall, a barely audible sound. The cash register opening, she thought. But he had already closed out the register, why would he...
Suddenly she smiled, as or came as close to smiling as she could with her mouth stuffed with her panties. Her panties! The pink ones he had taken from her last night! He was going to bring them back here...to do what, she wondered. But she didn't care what as long as he came back to her.
She heard the register drawer close, and suddenly she wished she had her hands free just long enough to straighten her hair and maybe somehow straighten her clothing without actually changing the way it was. She wanted desperately to please him, to be as pretty for him as she possibly could under the circumstances.
There! The employees' door, opening! His footsteps coming nearer! Marie felt suddenly, blissfully happy, as if he had been away for weeks instead of a few minutes. Her...her Master! Yes, her Master was coming back to her!
And yes, there he was, walking towards her, carrying her pink panties in one hand and in the other a large shopping bag with the bookstore's name printed on it. Again Marie tried to smile as he approached...
But he passed her by without a glance.
Marie sagged in place. She heard him throwing things into the bag—the ropes and paddles and other things he'd brought, she realized.
And then he was there, facing her. He dropped the bag to the floor beside her then reached up and, still not paying the slightest attention to her, unfastened the end of the belt from the bookshelf and let her drop onto her heels.
Her knees were so weak that she almost collapsed and had to lean back against the bookshelves for support. Her shoulders screamed in agony as she lowered her arms in front of her.
He quickly loosened and removed the belt from her wrists and held it in his hand. He bent her forward and pulled her shirt and bra over her head and tossed them on the floor.
He stood her upright again then unfastened her skirt and allowed it to drop around her ankles. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her forward so that she had to step out of her skirt, naked now but for the chain and clips she wore on her breasts.
He pushed her down to her knees and then onto all fours. He pulled her pink panties out of the bag and fitted them over her face so that the crotch covered her nose and she was looking out through the leg-holes--the other panties, bulging from her mouth, keeping her nose free for breathing. Though what she was able to breath was mostly the funk of their stale juices from the night before.
He looped the belt in his hands once more then placed it over her head and around her neck, pulling it snug.
He picked up the bag with his free hand. "Come on," he said gruffly, then pulled on the end of the belt and led her down the hall. Marie crawled after him as fast as her aching limbs would allow. He led her to the same door he had pushed her out of the night before and opened it. He switched off the lights.
Then he led her outside to the alley.
He paused long enough to close the door behind them and make sure it was locked, then led her down the alley, her hands and knees scraping and painful on the rough asphalt, until they reached the sidewalk.
Without hesitation he turned to the right and continued along the street.
Marie glanced frantically around her. Oh god, she was being led down a public sidewalk on her hands and knees, naked except for the chain on her breasts and the panties over her face! There was no one around, thank God—it was late and this was a small connecting street with little traffic even during the day, but still! Someone could drive by, or be taking a late-night stroll, or who knows what?
This was too much--she had to beg him to stop, to take her back to the store and return her clothes, even if it meant he never wanted to see her again. It was one thing to be his slave in private—she would gladly submit to any humiliation he could think of as long as they were alone—but she couldn't....
He stopped, so suddenly that she nearly ran into him from behind. He put down the bag and fumbled in his pocket for a moment before coming up with a set of keys with an electronic beeper attached. He pointed the beeper at a van parked at the curb in front of them and Marie heard the doors unlock.
He dropped her leash and opened the passenger-side door. "Get in," he said, then picked up the bag, walked around to the driver's side, opened the door and climbed in. pulling the door shut behind him. He threw the bag onto the rear seat, then turned and looked at her expectantly.
Marie hesitated only an instant before scrambling up onto the seat beside him and closing her door. Anything was better than being left out on the sidewalk as she was.
"Sit up straight. Hands behind your head."
Marie complied as he started the van and drove off. She glanced over at him several times, wishing he would speak to her, if only to tell her where they were going. But after a few minutes it became apparent: He was heading downtown.
Reading Allowed Ch. 03
Every streetlight made Marie cringe. It took all her willpower not to scrunch down in the seat, but she held her position, sitting up straight with her hands behind her head. She was trembling. She looked at him beseechingly, pleading with her eyes, but he kept his eyes on the road.
They stopped at a red light. He turned to her and said, "Spread your legs."
The words sent a pulsing, hot rush of lust straight to Marie's pussy, making it throb. She gave a little sob as she obeyed, terrified by this exposure but helpless to defy his voice, his evocative commands.
Whimpering, Marie parted her legs as far as she could, so that her right knee pressed up against the passenger door and her left knee against the center console. Her pussy gaped slightly, the moisture there gleaming in the dim light.
The light turned green. As he accelerated, he slid his right hand gently up her thigh, murmuring, "You look very sexy right now, princess."
Marie wished she could say thank you. He'd barely acknowledged her since he'd left her tied up in the hallway in the bookstore, and she'd been gradually losing her courage. He seemed to know just when she needed reassurance. She felt a little better now about sitting here like this, her breasts, with their clamped nipples, thrust forward, her legs spread obscenely wide—but she was still deathly afraid of being seen. They passed a few cars going the opposite direction, and while Marie tried to tell herself the glare from the van's headlights would prevent the other drivers from seeing her, her body shook with the effort to hold still.
He must have noticed her flinching, for he suddenly reached over and yanked the panties further down over her face, covering her eyes with the seat of the fabric.
This time she didn't know whether to be thankful or not. She couldn't see a thing, and for a moment it made her anxiety worse, but after a minute or two she was able to relax slightly, telling herself that the panties, at least, would keep anyone from recognizing her. She imagined her Master studying her exposed body, her body that he had positioned this way. He thinks you're sexy like this, she reminded herself...and she was able to focus on her arousal instead of her fear. She didn't dare let herself imagine where they were going, or what would happen when they got there.
She felt his hand slide up from her thigh and onto her stomach, where he began to massage her in slow, comforting circles while he continued to drive. The sweetness of it, the tenderness, made her want to weep with relief. Mmmmm.... She felt the tension begin to drain away and she sat up straighter, the better to lean into the warmth of his hand. And when he said softly, "You're doing very well," the happiness that welled up inside her made her feel like melting right off her seat and onto the floor.
He began using the back of his hand to caress the underside of her breasts and she shivered with pleasure. Her nipples, which had long since gone numb, began to tingle painfully. He encircled her left breast with his hand and began squeezing it in a slow, gentle rhythm, teasing her with the tips of his fingers. She moaned aloud.
She heard the window next to her beginning to lower, felt the cool air rush over her naked skin, giving her goosebumps. The van began to slow.
"Put your head out the window, princess." Marie immediately leaned over and did as instructed, feeling the wind press the fabric of her panties against her face. He had kept his hand on her breast, however, and now began massaging it more deeply. "Let everyone hear how much you're enjoying this."
Everyone? The word conjured images of crowds of curious onlookers, driving on all sides of them, straining to hear her helpless moans. Marie firmly suppressed her imagination. She knew there was probably no one near enough to hear her; this was just his way of further exposing her, testing her submission, and delighting in his mastery over her.
But it made no difference whether the streets were empty or thronging with people—he had told her to do something and she would do it. She began moaning out loud, as loud as the panties in her mouth would allow, in rhythm with the motion of his hand on her breast and the waves of pleasure that were rippling through her.
He'd said she was enjoying this. Even as his hand reached for her other breast, his comment distracted Marie for a moment. She thought about it, her mind racing. The pain of the nipple clamps when he jerked the chain, the hurt she felt when he ignored her or treated her roughly, the humiliation of being leashed and naked in public—all of that was very real. But there was no denying that these same things made her pussy wet, made her deliriously horny, more wildly aroused than she'd ever been. And then when he praised her, or told her she was sexy, or even just smiled at her, she felt such blind, irrational joy, and so strangely fulfilled. No, she didn't enjoy it, Marie thought, it was more like a need.
Her thoughts fled as his hand slid down to cup her pussy.
Marie's whole body went rigid; her head whipped back into the car and her hips rose. "Yes, please!" she cried, forgetting about the gag, and the words came out muffled and garbled. She heard him laugh and flushed with humiliation. She was acting like a sex-crazed maniac. She forced herself to hold still, but he only gave her pussy a light squeeze and took his hand away. She heard his signal click on, felt the car turning, and then they were slowing, and then stopping. There was a rustling sound as he rifled through the bag he'd brought with them. "Don't move," he said.
She heard his door open and close, and for a heart-stopping moment was afraid he was going to leave here there. She fought down panic, knowing that if he left her in the van, alone and blindfolded, she'd never be able to hold her position...
...But he was still there, opening her door, and Marie felt weak with relief. "Hands behind your back," he said, and she obeyed. He pulled the panties on her head back and off, pulled the damp wad of white panties out of her mouth and dropped them to the floor of the van. Marie's hair fell over her eyes and without thinking she reached up to smooth it.
He immediately grabbed the chain between her breasts and twisted it, bringing her numb nipples painfully back to life. She gasped and her eyes filled, but she understood and put her hand behind her back again.
He fixed her hair himself, running his fingers through it, then arranging it over her shoulders. He leaned back and looked critically at her, as if assessing his handiwork. It made Marie feel objectified, like she was his toy, his plaything. She loved it.
Finally he looked her in the eyes. Hers were wide with apprehension and a bit teary. "No talking unless I give you permission," he said sternly. "Understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, and he smiled and said, "Good girl." Marie's heart soared.
He stepped back and gestured for her to get out of the car. When she did, stepping carefully down onto the pavement, he pushed her in front of him and grabbed her wrists, gripping them together in the small of her back with one of his hands. A second later she felt cold steel encircling her wrists. The handcuffs, she thought. That's what he got out of the bag. Now her hands were cuffed behind her back, palms out. The cuffs were tight, she realized, too tight for her even to think of sliding her hands through them, but not painful.
While he was cuffing her Marie had a moment to look around. They were nowhere she recognized—a small parking lot in an alleyway, behind a row of buildings, it appeared. Suddenly she recalled her nudity, and all her fear came rushing back. Her heart pounded as he came back in front of her and grabbed the end of the belt that was still hanging loosely around her neck. The leash! She'd forgotten she had it on. Leashed, with her hands cuffed securely behind her back, she'd have no choice but to follow him anywhere he chose to take her, Marie realized. The thought made her knees weak and her pussy flood with heat.
It was like one of those intense dreams where she knew she was asleep but couldn't make herself wake up. Two days ago she'd been a normal girl, albeit one with more than slightly kinky fantasies. And now she was naked and handcuffed in a parking lot, with nothing to identify her and no idea where she was--completely in the power of this man who was leading her along by means of a belt around her neck. She had to be crazy, she thought as she stumbled along behind him, watching carefully for broken glass or worse on the ground. She didn't know this man; he could be taking her somewhere to murder her or sell her into slavery or allow her to be gang-raped.
Then she smiled. Liar, she said to herself. You do know this man—and he knows you, better than you know yourself. Looking at his strong fingers wrapped confidently around the makeshift leash, she realized suddenly that she no longer felt any fear. She was his and he would take care of her.
They were approaching the row of buildings. He stopped and knocked on a non-descript metal door which might have been painted red a long time ago but now seemed vaguely brown in the dim light from the parking lot. Looking over his shoulder, Marie saw that someone had scrawled the word "Eroth?e" on the door in large, uneven block letters with a black marker.
After a moment the door opened and Marie heard him say, "Hi Theo, thanks for waiting. You go ahead, I'll lock up." Marie cringed behind him for a moment, thinking she was about to be displayed to a total stranger. But there was no one there when he led her inside.
They were in a dimly-lit hallway. Marie noticed a vaguely familiar, rubbery smell. He dropped her leash and pushed her gently in front of him. She heard the heavy door to the alley closing loudly behind them, and then his warm hand was on her back, nudging her forward down the hallway, to the left, and out into the store.
For that is where they were—a sex shop, Marie realized. She'd been in a couple of stores like this before, with girlfriends, when they were in a silly mood and felt like doing something risqu?so she wasn't shocked by the sight of the wall of dildos and penis pumps. However, as she looked around, it became obvious that this wasn't an ordinary sex shop. Half the store seemed to be devoted to bondage and punishment devices. Marie's heart beat faster as she quickly took in the racks of paddles and whips, ropes and leather straps, and several mysterious pieces of furniture, some with signs on them that said "Try me." All the lights were on in the windowless shop, but there seemed to be no one else present.
Marie became aware of him standing behind her. She could practically feel his eyes on her ass. All at once she felt more naked than she had in the car or in the parking lot. Nervously she turned to face him, and was taken aback by the hot intensity of his gaze. He looked like he wanted to ravish her on the spot. He stepped closer and closed his fingers on her jaw, tilting her face up and running his eyes over it as if to memorize it. "I was going to wait to bring you here," he murmured, and his voice had a wry tone to it. His hand moved to the back of her neck, up against her scalp, and he clutched a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat. He went on, "But I find I just can't wait to possess you, sweet princess." Marie wasn't sure what he was talking about, but this was the first time he'd revealed any of his feelings to her. She wanted to consider the meaning of his words, but her thoughts fled as he kissed her for the first time. It wasn't a gentle kiss, and as he plundered her mouth Marie was very conscious of her nakedness, his firm grip on her hair, and her bound hands, glorying in his power over her.
When he broke the kiss she was shaken and gasping. Her mouth felt bruised. Words seemed to bubble up in her; she was dying to tell him how good he made her feel, how much she wanted him, but when she opened her mouth to speak she suddenly remembered he'd forbidden it. She snapped her mouth shut and hurriedly looked at his face to see if he'd noticed her close call. He definitely had—he was smiling that ironic smile of his, and he said, "Good girl." The smile faded as he added, "On your knees."
The stern tone sent a little shiver through Marie. How can his voice sound so tender some of the time and so commanding the rest of the time? Marie wondered as she tried to gracefully sink to her knees. She bent her legs as low as she could, then leaned forward slowly, but she still landed jarringly on her knees on the thinly carpeted floor, and wobbled a bit, almost tipping over. "You'll get better at that," he said, sounding amused, and her face turned red.
He leaned back against the doorway they'd just come through and studied her for a moment as she knelt at his feet, leaning back on her heels, her eyes demurely lowered. "Now," he said firmly, "you can ask me three questions."
Marie was startled and her eyes flew to his face for a moment, to see if he was serious. He looked like he meant it. Her mind raced. She remembered how she'd come to the bookstore tonight intending to talk to him about what they were doing, about what it was doing to her, but somehow that resolution had gotten lost in the heady excitement of being with him. Now that he'd given her permission to talk about it, though, all her burning questions came urgently back. She considered for a moment, then quietly asked, "Why do I like this?"
She fell silent, and when he didn't answer right away uncertainty welled up inside her, uncertainty and the sense of shame she'd been suppressing all evening. Suddenly she leaned so far forward that she nearly fell over as the question burst out of her again, almost as a sob, "Why do I like it...oh god, so fucking much?"
Tears sprang to her eyes and her mouth fell open as she began to sob in earnest, staring up at him, begging him to answer. To her shock she saw a look of confusion, or doubt, cross his features. Then, in a moment Marie knew she would remember for the rest of her life, he fell to his knees in front of her and took her by the shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes for a long moment and Marie saw there a depth of tenderness she would never have imagined possible.
He reached up and gently brushed her tears away with his thumbs, shaking his head slowly as he said, "I don't know, princess. I don't know why you're like you are or I'm like I am." He combed her hair back with his fingers then leaned forward and kissed her for the second time--a warm, comforting kiss that continued as he pulled her into an embrace. When he pulled away there was a twinkle in his eye as he added, "But aren't you glad we are?"
Marie sobbed again, but this time with relief, and she smiled at him through her tears. "Y-yes, Sir, I am." Her lips trembled a little as she added, "I'm glad I'm yours, Sir. Thank you."
He smiled back at her as he thumbed away her tears again. "That's right, you're mine, princess," he said softly. "So I think you deserve something nicer than this." He loosened his belt from around her neck and lifted it over her head. He quickly put it back through the belt loops on his pants and fastened it. Then he dug the handcuffs key from his pocket, reached behind her and expertly unlocked them, sliding them into his back pocket. He pulled her gently forward onto her hands and knees, then stood and walked past her and down one of the aisles, calling "Come over here," over his shoulder.
Marie understood that she was supposed to crawl and started after him, keeping her head up so she could see where he went. He had managed to bring her closer to accepting her sexual desires and where they were leading her, and calmed her turbulent feelings to a great extent. But now she had new things to wonder about. He didn't have to take the time to reassure her. He must have known she'd go along with him, obey him, anyway the way she had up to now. And then there was the way he'd looked at her and held her, so gently, and knelt with her, rescinding some of his dominance—what did it mean? They'd known each other for just over 24 hours, even though it sometimes seemed he knew her intimately, somehow. Surely this didn't mean he was in love with her...did it? Was she in love with him? Marie only knew that she'd meant it, had never been more serious when she'd said "I'm glad I'm yours." She wanted to belong to him, to be his possession. Was that the same thing as love? She didn't know.
She was almost relieved that he'd switched gears again, becoming her stern Master once more. Tenderness from him was wonderful, but confusing. She didn't want to think about anything right now. She just wanted to be here, in this strange store, crawling for him.
She reached his side and peeked up at his face. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he said casually, "Turn around and do it again. And this time arch your back more. I want to see that cute bottom sticking up."
Her face flamed, but Marie obediently turned around and started crawling back the way she'd come, trying to push her ass out and up as she went. She knew he had a perfect view of her pussy as her thighs moved, propelling her down the aisle. The chain between her breasts swung as she went. The humiliation made her pussy start to throb again.
When she had come full circle, she hesitated there on her hands and knees, looking up at him for approval. The hopeful expression on her face was enchanting, but he just said briefly, "Good. You can sit up."
She leaned back on her heels, her thighs modestly pressed together, and he frowned. "Spread your legs more," he ordered, sounding impatient. "I shouldn't have to keep telling you I want to be able to see your pussy."
Marie's flinched at his hard tone and hastily parted her thighs. It was hard to keep her legs open like this, but she realized she loved kneeling before him. It felt natural somehow, and it made her feel safe. She saw that he'd stopped next to a display of collars, many of which came with a matching leash. There were big, menacing iron and steel collars, dog collars—some with words printed on them, mostly "Slave," or "Slut," plus a few that said "Bitch"—leather collars, and some delicate metal ones that could almost pass for necklaces, if it weren't for the shiny loops, made for attaching a leash, that hung from them. "Choose one," he was saying.
Her eyes scanned the selections. To be perfectly truthful, she liked the thick steel collars the best, the ones that looked like something a real slave would be forced to wear. But she didn't know how often, or where, he was going to make her wear it—maybe she should pick one of the more discreet items. She was reminded of a question she hadn't voiced yet. Hadn't he said she could ask three questions? She looked up at him, remembering not to talk, but trying with her expression to ask permission. Amazingly, he knew just what she wanted. "Have another question?" he asked. She nodded eagerly, and he gestured for her to go ahead.
But now she couldn't figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. "How often—I mean, will you want—" She broke off and started again. "Can I still keep my normal life?"
For a moment she wasn't even sure what she'd meant—and then, only then, did she realize how much her entire life had been shaken to its roots. That there was now a before and after, and how sharp the divide was between them. She was afraid he'd take offense at the question and watched carefully for his reaction. To her relief, he was calm and direct and seemed to have understood perfectly what she was asking. "I have no desire to interfere with your studies or your social life," he said. He smiled evilly. "But I will demand a lot of your free time."
Reading Allowed Ch. 03
Well, that didn't exactly mean he wouldn't make her wear her steel slave collar to class, Marie thought, but she was somewhat reassured. Timidly she reached up and touched a package containing one of the shiny steel models, not the largest one, but not the smallest, either. She saw him raise his eyebrows and blushed again.
There was only one kind of leash that could go with the collar she picked out, so Marie wasn't surprised when he slid a four-foot chain leash, with a leather loop for a handle, off its hook and over his wrist. She watched him sort through the collars she'd pointed at until he found one he thought would fit her and removed it from its packaging. She didn't question his expertise or his right to take what he wanted from the store.
"Stand up," he said, and she did, feeling very small next to him. He tilted her chin up, making her look at him. "Last question."
She swallowed, trying to think. She knew he was about to collar her, asking for a commitment. She thought it would be a long time before she got tired of being his—right now she could barely imagine going back to her quiet, vanilla life of two days ago. But she needed to know what she was letting herself in for. "How—how long?" she stammered. She tried to turn her face away but he held her chin firmly. His expression, however, was benign as he replied, "We'll just see how it goes, princess."
She smiled waveringly, the endearment as always making her throat tighten with tears. She nodded.
His face turned very serious then and he shifted his grip, closing his hand lightly over her throat. "Do you want to become my property, princess?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, without hesitating.
"Think about it," he growled, his hand tightening slightly. "You're going to be mine, to use however I want to, when I want to. I'm going to humiliate you," he warned, watching her flushed face closely. "I'm going to punish you. Are you willing to suffer for me, princess?"
His words enflamed Marie. It was as if he were reading off a list of her deepest, most secret urges, the things she'd always wanted someone to do to her, for her. A little cry of lust and joy escaped her as she closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. He held her up, and when she opened her eyes he was staring at her intently. She opened her mouth and started to say, "Yes!"...just as he grabbed the chain at her breasts and ripped the nipple clamps off.
It was as if the scream had been ripped from her at the same instant, the pain jumping from her nipples directly to her throat. It hurt so much that she would have fallen to her knees—except that he seized her hair and yanked her upright, making her shriek again. He made her stand on her feet then thrust his face into hers. "Do not make this decision lightly...princess!" He spat out the last word, his saliva spraying her face. "This is not a game!" He released his hold on her hair so suddenly that she staggered slightly. He slapped her pussy, hard, with his open palm, then shoved his thumb inside her and worked his middle finger ruthlessly up her ass so that she seemed to dance, whimpering, in the palm of his hand.
He brandished the collar in her face with his free hand. "You put this on and you're mine, do you understand? Not just when you feel like getting laid. Every...second...of every...day!" He jerked the hand, the one she was skewered on, up hard to emphasize each word, making her cry out each time. "You put this on and you do what I tell you, the instant I tell you to do it. Your only purpose in life will be to serve me. I will give you pain, pleasure or humiliation as I please, use you or ignore you as I choose, and you will thank me for all of it. Is that...what...you...want?"
He jerked her up even harder with each of his final words, then tore his hand away and watched as she collapsed to the ground. Marie fell in a sobbing heap at his feet and cried piteously for a long time. But eventually, slowly, she calmed and became quiet. Then she raised her face, still streaming with tears, to his and whispered, "Yes...Master."
Read 87183 times | Rated 88.4 (216 votes)
Vote list (Close) :
Lgrey215 : POSITIVE
Please rate this text: