Cries of Penance (17 page)

“I would. I would!” I cry harder against his shoulder, al of the pain I’ve been holding in leaking out in wracked sobs. “I want my Lord Fyre back. I want him back.”

Master stands me up and leads me to the library. I’m stil crying but my body responds to the walk down the long hal way, just knowing a scene is coming.

Inside the room, Master holds out a box of tissues. “Blow.”

I take a tissue and do as I’m told.

He points to a stool. “Sit.”

154

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

I look around the room with interest. This impromptu scene has left no time for an elaborate setup, and Master is al about setting a specific mood. As it is, I am sitting on a low, wooden stool in his library.

Cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang. The on-the-hour announcement draws my attention to a new acquirement. A carved bird, which popped through a smal door bobs with its

“cuckoo”. I used to have a col ection of clocks—mantle clocks, pendulum clocks, grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks—I realize quite suddenly I haven’t missed them. God, the ruckus they used to make. How did I ever sleep? I appreciate the silence when we are here at the penthouse.

By the sixth cuckoo, I’m annoyed by the sound.

“Like it?”

Is this a trick question? We are in the library after al . It makes me wonder.

“It’s beautiful y carved.”

He snickers and I think by my avoidance of the question I probably gave him more information than I intended. I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s only a cuckoo clock.

“Do you think if I bind your wrists lightly that you would be comfortable for a while?”

Bondage? Real y? I hold out my arms and bounce with glee. I couldn’t be more excited if I tried.

Smiling, Master comes forward, holding out a wide length of silk. He binds my wrists one to the other, leaving them resting in my lap. He is careful to not tie my wrists so tight that it would slow my circulation. To my col ar he attaches a chain 155

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

that is anchored to the base of the stool. “You can move from the stool to the floor and from the floor to the stool if you get uncomfortable.”

I appreciate his concern about the babies and blood clots, but it only makes me more impatient to give birth. I want to be tied in uncomfortable positions and used roughly, but I’m not complaining. I am bound. For now, that is enough.

He leaves me sitting and walks over to his desk.

“I know you love clocks.” He lifts the cuckoo clock, and I look at it with new interest. As he carries it toward me I realize this is no ordinary clock. It folds open like a book, and the interior is mostly hol ow. “I’m going to box your head inside of the clock. Do you agree to this scene?”

Curious and excited, I nod. I’ve seen slaves being led around Lewd Larry’s with their heads trapped inside wooden boxes, and I’ve never figured out the fascination. I’ve heard some skin-tingling stories about insects or smal mice being put inside the box to torture the one caged though I’ve never seen it done.

He fits the clock around my head and closes me in. I hear a click as the sides lock together. I am trapped in the dark, although as my eyes adjust some light comes through the opening around my neck. Master doesn’t say anything. I don’t like not seeing him, I don’t like blindfolds, and I’m finding I don’t like being boxed in much better.

My heart starts racing. I don’t like this. I real y don’t like this.

I feel his gentle touch on my shoulders. “Relax. I’m right here.”

I try to relax, dropping my chin to seek the light coming through the opening.

Feeling my panic rise, I can’t help but think how ridiculous this is. I’ve been 156

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

bound and caged in dark rooms plenty of times and never panicked. What’s the difference? This box on my shoulders is like a little, dark room for my head.

He opens the face of the clock and looks at me. “Do you want me to leave this open?”

Yes, yes, yes. I squeeze my hands into tight fists. I can do this, damnit. “No, I’m fine.”

He closes the face of the clock, pitching me back into darkness. “I wil be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Heart racing, breathing hard, I war with myself in the dark, fighting panic. I don’t know how long I sit there. I almost safeword a dozen times but final y, after what seems like hours, I win. I sigh with relief, realizing I’m fine. I’m going to stay fine. Master is right here, and he won’t let anything happen to me.

Cuckoo-clang.

I jump, almost fal ing off the stool. Master steadies me with his hand on my elbow and I realize my hands flew up to grab the clock, but bound as I am I only end up hitting the box and jarring my head. Cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo, clang, cuckoo-clang .

“Eight o’clock,” I say, real y, real y hating cuckoo clocks.

Master opens the face of the clock and holds a bottle of water up to the opening. He helps me to take a drink. “I’m very proud of you, Kitten.”

I know he is. I can hear it in his voice.

With a lot of assistance, he helps me to lay on the floor, adding cushions beneath my knees and lumbar. He attaches a spreader bar between my legs with loose cuffs. I’m curious why now, after so many months of almost no play, he has 157

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

come up with these ingenious ideas of how we can play. Better late than not at al I suppose.

He props my shoulders up with another cushion, explaining, “I want you to be able to watch.”

It is a strange sensation, watching him from the round hole of my head-clock.

Kneeling beside me, he bends forward and licks my clit. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing, because my big bel y is in the way, but I like his tongue on my clit so I don’t say anything. My hips start to move with the rhythm of his tongue, but he pul s away.

Going to the other side of the room, he pushes toward us a large, oval antique mirror and angles it so that I can see everything. “Better?”

I nod.

“You should have told me you couldn’t see.”

“Sorry, Master.”

He smiles but walks away. I look at my spread genitalia and the view he would have of my big, swol en bel y. Not sexy. Not sexy at al .

It seems like he is forever returning, but that is part of this game, the isolation.

When he does return, he bears lube, a smal clear cylinder, and a hand vacuum pump. I lick my lips, new anticipation making my need spike. After slathering a thick coat of lube over my clit and labia, he positions the clear cylinder over my clit. With the valve open, he starts pumping. From past experience, I know this is just the warm up. It feels like he is sucking my clit with his mouth, but the view in the mirror tel s me it is al manual tool. With his fingertips he teases my labia, then slides a finger inside.

158

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

I close my eyes, his touch feels so sweet. My body hums with pleasure. He takes me so close to orgasm, so close…

He stops pumping and closes the valve. The next pump sucks my clit, leaving it clearly distended inside the tube. It stays that way. He pumps again, stretching it more.

“Oh!” My hips jerk, orgasm so close. Please, please, please.

Smiling, Master leans over me and closes the door to the cuckoo clock.

“That’s enough for now. Rest awhile, Kitten.”

No, no, no. I want to come.

* * * *

Cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang-cuckoo-clang , cuckoo-clang , cuckoo-clang .

I jerk back to the reality of the library at ten p.m. Damn, I despise that clock.

Master rubs my shoulders. “Don’t hate the clock. Feeling al right?”

“I was feeling wonderful.”

He chuckles.

“Damn sadist,” I murmur under my breath.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Master,” I answer, smiling sweetly.

Master removes the box from my head, and I am comforted that he has dimmed the lights and lit candles around the room. The mirror is stil in position, giving me a view of my clit sucked inside the cylinder. It looks huge inside the glass tube. Shit. I worry it wil be painful when he removes it, like when he 159

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

removes the nipple clamps, and am surprised when it doesn’t. However, when his lips close over the engorged flesh I buck away.

“Oh God!”

“A little sensitive?”

“Yeah.”

He releases my ankles from the spreader bar so that he can position himself between my legs before moving back into position. “I’l be gentle.”

The new angle is better, and he does lick with a softer stroke. Taking hold of my bound wrists, he pul s my hands down. “Use your fingers to hold yourself open for me.”

I press against my flesh, pul ing apart my labia, which makes my clit stick out even more. “God!”

He chuckles against my flesh, just his breath sensation enough. He licks my fingers and my labia, lapping my flesh. I like the way his tongue feels when it runs over my fingers and then my labia and back again. He laps closer and closer to my clit, almost touching but not. Oh God. I want my clit in his mouth. I wanted sucked on. As if he’s reading my mind he gives me what I want, but my clit is so super sensitive I squeal. He turns his attention back to my fingers and labia.

His tongue glides over the tops of my fingers, slips under them. I imagine him tasting my juices. I can feel my slickness beneath my fingers.

Unexpectedly, he reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves his cel phone.

“Hel o?”

160

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

When he switches the cel to speaker a jolt of adrenaline speeds through my veins knowing it is Lord Fyre.

“I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

Leaving? London ? Master and my gaze col ide. We’re both holding our breath. This seems like so much more than just a simple update phone cal .

Where are you going? Sudan? Please don’t let it be Sudan.

“I need you to run to the grocery.”

Run to the grocery? Is that code? Do he and Master have code words set up that I don’t know about?

“Sure, no problem.” Master shrugs. Obviously not code.

“Kiddie Kibble, diapers, formula, a few bottles, and juice.”

The line goes dead, leaving Master saying, “Hel o? Are you there?” until the phone in his hand starts beeping. Looking at me he says, “Did you understand that?”

I shake my head. “If it’s code, I don’t know it.”

“Then I guess we take him at his word.” Master releases my wrists.

“Maybe it’s the store that’s more important than the items,” I suggest, standing up. I realize my legs are stiff and bounce a little.

“I shouldn’t have had you on the floor so long.”

“I’m fine. I lay on the cushion on the floor at the club hours longer every evening. Those are pretty specific items. Maybe Thomas is just worried we won’t be prepared for the new babies. He’s so convinced they’re coming early.”

“Kiddie Kibble?” Master asks.

161

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

“High sugar, over-processed cereal. You’ve seen the commercial with the talking elephant, right?” No, because he doesn’t watch television. I shrug. “Can I come with you? I can probably help you find it.”

“That probably isn’t a good idea.”

I give him the look that says you have to be kidding. “Thomas wouldn’t send either of us into danger. It’s a grocery list.”

“You’re right.” He squeezes my arm. “Get dressed.”

An hour later we are standing in a monolithic superstore, the only one in town open twenty-four hours. The store is deserted, not a big surprise since it is so late, but stil I expected a few people to be here. When I had a more normal life, it wasn’t odd for me to do my shopping at night. As we push our cart through the aisles, I think we both are expecting someone to jump out and deliver a secret message Thomas couldn’t give us over the phone. By the third aisle we are wired tight and al it takes is an employee pushing a dust mop to make us both jump out of our skin.

“Oh, crap!” I start laughing, Master laughs too, and we hug each other tight, half-holding each other up, because we’re laughing so hard. The employee doesn’t even pause to look at us. I’m sure it’s just a normal evening for him, and he probably thinks we’re drunk.

“Okay.” Master releases me. “Cereal aisle.”

We stand looking at the towering shelves of boxes. There are hundreds of kinds of cereal. Hundreds. It takes a step back and a long scan to find Kiddie Kibble, only to discover there are six different flavors: chocolate, chocolate chip, strawberry-banana, razzle rainbow, peanut-butter, and the original.

162

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

“Which one?”

Master puts one of each flavor in the cart. That’s one of the reasons I love him, he’s very thorough and leaves nothing to chance. I guess that would be two reasons.

We smile at each other, both of us pushing the cart. This is new, a completely different experience for us. Enrique always does the grocery shopping. I wonder if this is what Lord Fyre planned al along, a normal task in our kinky life to ground us and prepare us for the babies. I sigh contentedly.

Then we reach the formula aisle. “Oh, crap.”

We stare at the choices. How can anyone just pick one?

“This might take a while.” Master picks up one of the pre-mixed cans and starts reading ingredients. I pick up a different can and start reading.

“What are we looking for?”

“The healthiest choice.”

I nod. Sure. That makes sense. “Would they make unhealthy baby formula?”

We share a look. This is ridiculous. After an hour of reading, we’ve grouped the different brands into nine types: cow’s milk based, soy based, rice based, amino acid based, lactose-free, gentle, elemental, and special formulas for premature babies and toddlers. We end up with one of each kind in the cart.

At the diaper aisle, I leave him reading labels while I go to the front of the store for a second cart. With bottles, diapers, and juice stil on the list, we’re going to need it.