Her Father, My Master: Enthralled (9 page)

Finally, he let me orgasm.  My legs
jerked as euphoria bloomed throughout my body, flowing in my veins and filling
my body with warmth.  My arms and legs convulsed against the chains, and my
head tilted back in ecstasy.  I was in heaven.

My climax seemed to last for
minutes.  Mr. Hendricks merely knelt there, his hand inside me as my walls
tightened and clenched around him.  My vision grayed at the edges as blood
rushed and pounded in my head.  My very orgasm was threatening to overwhelm me,
just as my master had.  It was the most unbelievable feeling of my short life.

Finally, I relaxed and hung limply
from the chains, letting them support me fully.  I winced when my master
withdrew from me, but still didn't utter a sound.

“Good pet,” he said.  “I'll be back
later.”  And with that, he left me, tied up and chained to the wall.

*****

I didn't know how long he was
gone.  It could have been minutes.  It could have been hours.  In the wake of
my intense orgasm, the world seemed to take on a hazy, dreamlike halo.  Time
meant nothing to me.

But he did return, and he when he
did, I knew it was time.  Time to please him.

Without a single word, he unhooked
the chains from my bondage gear, and lifted me up.  That was a good thing – I
was afraid I would have trouble walking, in the state I was in.

As he tossed me on the bed, it
finally dawned on me that he was naked as well, and fully erect.  In the waning
sunlight, I could see his cock, thick and full, bigger than ever.  It seemed
that I was not the only one being denied.

He leaped upon me with the savagery
of a starving wolf.  He was as desperate as I was for release.  It never even
occurred to me that he would deny himself in the same way that he denied me,
but it was clear that he'd held off for as long as humanly possible.

My master now hungrily kissed me,
demanding with his tongue that I open my mouth, and I obeyed, parting my lips,
letting him probe me as deeply as he wanted.  But the kissing wasn't enough for
him, not by a long shot.  After he got his fill of my lips, he moved downwards,
biting and sucking at my neck.  It felt like he wanted to taste and touch every
last inch of me.  He wanted to cover me in fire with his kisses and his bites.

But after only a few moments of
this, he quickly lurched his body forward, covering me quite suddenly, pressing
my smaller frame into the soft mattress.  He growled wordlessly, and snaked a
hand downwards, forcing my legs apart roughly.  I complied, as I always did.  I
wanted him inside me.  My own need was already building again.  I needed to
feel his cock inside me.

And he gave that to me.  Without
ceremony, he plunged right inside me, taking me as quickly and as harshly as he
possibly could.  “Yes,” he hissed, the first and only word he uttered.

He was quick, so quick.  He pounded
and shook my body with his violent thrusts, digging his cock deeper and deeper
inside me, his groans of pleasure, beautiful music in my ears.  I maintained my
own silence and well as I could, but still small gasps and squeaks escaped my
lips.  My master didn't care at the moment, though.  He was so focused on his
own pleasure that he couldn't possibly stop to punish me.

His thrusting now grew quicker,
more spastic.  It was so sudden – he was already going to come.  And he didn't
warn me.  He merely took me when and how he saw fit.  I loved it.

He grunted loudly as he thrust
deeply now, his hips straining against my body as he unloaded wave after wave
of milky come deep inside my body.  He filled me up, in every way imaginable. 
Like no other man could.  It felt amazing, like nothing else.

As soon as he could, he lifted his sweaty,
drenched body up and off of me, and we both winced as he slid out from my
spread cunt.  I never wanted him to leave me, but he had to.

“Clean up,” he said simply and
exited the room.  I was left, alone on the bed, used and abused, and I loved
every second of it.

I was his, utterly and completely.

Chapter
7

The short weeks between
Thanksgiving and Christmas were full for me.  I had to finish my online
courses, and tend to the house while my master was out, but I managed it, and
managed it well.  It was amazing, how easily I sank into this role.  I took to
housekeeping well, and cooking too.

And since he ordered me to do well
in college, I did.  The courses he laid out for me were simple enough, and I
passed all of them with flying colors.  It was amazing how well I could do,
when I had the incentive to do well.

I was dreading Christmas, however. 
To me, Christmas meant going home in mid-December, and not being able to return
until the first week of January, in the new year.  After so many months of close
proximity to my master, it would be torture, to be away from him for so long.

But he ordered me to go home, and I
knew I could do it, because he'd commanded it.

At least Kandace and Steven would
only be there for a few days.  It was bad enough, during Thanksgiving.  I
didn't want to have to endure three whole weeks of those two, especially with my
sister verbally sparring with my parents.

And I was worried about Kandace,
too.  I knew she was suspicious about me.  And I knew it wouldn't take much to
find out that I wasn't really attending UVA.  And if I wasn't going to UVA,
then where was I, exactly?  My entire secret would unravel in an instant, and I
couldn't let that happen.

I discovered something curious
about my master's house, due to my nerves.  I found myself one afternoon, as I
was alone in the house, wanting a drink.  I didn't drink often – I'd only
gotten drunk a few times at various parties, but I thought just a beer or two
would calm my nerves.  I quietly padded through the public areas of the house,
poking my head in his study, looking for a liquor cabinet, a wine cellar,
anything.

There was nothing.  Not a drop of
booze in the house.  No beer in the fridge, either.

I sighed.  It never occurred to me
that my master might be a teetotaler, but it appeared he was.  And so I would
be, too.

It wasn't that important, however. 
I could calm myself in other ways.

I found my way to the living room,
and laid down on one of the couches.  The soft fabric of the furniture felt
cool and soothing against my bare skin.  I already felt a little more at ease.

I closed my eyes, and slipped into
a meditative trance.  I'd trained myself to do this over the past few weeks, in
order to give me an increased sense of control.  My master was all about
control, and I found myself enjoying that control as well.  The way he
controlled my life, my thoughts, my very emotions, just with an order.  It felt
good, to not have to worry about anything.

For now, I cleared my mind, and
slowed my breathing, thinking of nothing but a windy day on a beach.  The sand
trickling between my toes.  The crash of the waves, and the raucous cries of
gulls overheard.  It was easy for me now.  I sensed the feeling of calmness
seeping into me, soaking the very core of my being.  I felt good.

As I often did when I meditated, I
fell asleep.

*****

I woke with a start to the sound of
footsteps in the kitchen.  Shit.  I'd fallen asleep, and I hadn't  meant to do
that.  My master would certainly punish me, for this transgression.  I lifted
my head up from the couch, blearily looking around, blinking rapidly.  It was
dark – it was most certainly past seven.  It must be him in the kitchen.

Standing up, I silently crept
towards the door that separated the two rooms, and peeked in.  Mr. Hendricks
was there, and the kitchen table, with a bottle of scotch.

How odd.  Where did he get that?

He had a single shot glass, and he
nursed the liquid within, taking careful, tiny sips.  I'd never had scotch
before, but I imagined that it tasted much like vodka or rum.  Like liquid
fire, in other words.

It was strange, the way he drank it
so slowly.  I thought people were generally supposed to knock it back, all in
one gulp, but he didn't.

I wasn't sure what to do.  I stood
awkwardly at the threshold for a few moments, trying to decide whether to
bother the man or not.  He looked so introspective that I decided to against
it.  I went back to the couch, to wait in silence.  To await the punishment
that I surely would receive for not preparing dinner.

But the punishment never came.  I
heard my master push back a chair, and the thudding of his footsteps as he
moved around the kitchen.  There was a tinkling of glass, as he presumably put
the scotch away.  Then he came out to the living room.

“I'm going to order in tonight,” he
said, not even acknowledging my transgression.  He looked very out of sorts.

“What?” I said, confused.

“I'm going to order a pizza,” he
repeated himself with more clarification.  “What do you want?”

“I... aren't you going to punish
me?” I asked.  For just a moment, our slave-master spell was broken.

Mr. Hendricks sat down in a nearby
armchair with a thud.  “Don't worry about it tonight.  I need some time away
from all of this.  I should have told you.  I should have planned for this.”

He sounded so vulnerable at that
moment that it scared me.  I'd never seen this side of him.  He was supposed to
be my master.  He was supposed to always tell me what to do.  But he seemed so
different, tonight.

“Pizza?” he asked me again.

“Pepperoni, I guess,” I said,
thoroughly rattled by now.

“All right.  I'm going to go get
it, I think.  I'll be back soon.”

With that, he stood and left the
room, and then the house.  I was left alone to my own devices.

My nervousness began to rise
again.  Why was my master behaving like this?  Was he having second thoughts
about our relationship?  Did he want to kick me out?  I shivered and wrapped my
arms around my knees.  I couldn't go to dark places like this.  He'd never
shown the slightest indication of wanting to cut it off in the past.  Why did
my mind immediately go there?  It was a worst case scenario, and certainly not
reality.

I sighed heavily, and stood up,
feeling a little wobbly.  I wasn't in my right mind, now.  I needed something
to calm my nerves, and no amount of meditation would suffice.

I headed for the kitchen, and
peered around.  Mr. Hendricks was definitely gone – I could see through the
open garage door that the Porsche was not there.  I wondered if he would mind
me having a bit of that scotch.  It was just some alcohol, after all.  And
maybe there was more around.

Finding the stuff proved to be a
bit of a challenge, though.  I scoured the pantry, the cabinets that held
dishes, and under the counter.  I even looked in the fridge, but the scotch had
mysteriously disappeared.  Then, I noticed the small cubby cabinet above the
fridge was cracked open.  I grabbed a chair and dragged it over – I wasn't
nearly tall enough to reach it without assistance.

Chair in place, I stood on the
thing, the smooth wood surface gliding underneath my toes.  I pulled on the
door, and revealed what I was looking for.  A bottle of scotch that was only a
third full, and a single shot glass.  I pulled both of them down, and brought
them and the chair back to the kitchen table.

I sat down heavily, and stared at
the bottle.  In small letters, it read 'The Amberbok Distillery' and a large
'1970' was stamped to one side.  I had no idea what it meant.  Perhaps this was
an old vintage.  I didn't care at the moment, though; I just wanted to drink
the stuff.  I poured myself a glass, and knocked it back quickly.

It was liquid fire, just like every
other liquor I tried.  I was prepared for the fire, but still I coughed,
hacking up bits of the fiery alcohol.  Underneath the fire, I could taste the
complexities of the scotch.  It was very spicy, with a touch of honey and
sweetness underneath.  I surprised that I was able to get as much from the
drink as I did – usually these liquors just tasted like fire, to me.

I poured myself another drink, and
drank it more slowly, like I'd seen my master do.  The flavors really came out,
when I sipped it carefully.  It was very spicy, very hot, and very good.

For some reason, it never occurred
to me to question why Mr. Hendricks only had one bottle of alcohol, seemingly
in the entire house.  Or why he was drinking it tonight, when I'd never ever
seen him drink before.  Or why he was so strange and distant.  Instead, I drank
his scotch, two shots, and put my head down on the table.  The stuff was
strong.  I could already feel my head spinning.  I closed my eyes.

*****

“What are you doing?” a terse voice
asked.  I jolted awake, still feeling slightly dizzy.

“I-” I gasped and groped for words.

“That is not yours.  What are you
doing with it?  How much did you drink?”  Mr. Hendricks was angry – his voice
rose with each word he spoke, until he was at a near yell.

“I- two shots,” I managed to say. 
I didn't have a good answer for his other questions.  To be honest, I really
didn't know what I was doing with the stuff.  It finally occurred to me, what a
stupid mistake I'd made.  I'd taken one of my master's possessions, without
permission, and just drank it down.  The scotch was probably expensive.

“That was Molly's!” he roared as he
grabbed one of my arms and hauled me upright into a standing position.  I
cringed.  “You don't drink this, you don't ever drink this!” he continued at a
yell, and pushed me away from the table.  I stumbled.  “Go to your room!”

My eyes wide, I turned and ran. 
This was the most out of character I'd ever seen the man.  There was no control
there, only unbridled anger.  He scared me, more than a little bit.

I dashed up to my room, and threw
the door shut before leaping onto the bed with tears in my eyes.  I was so
stupid, how could I have made such a mistake?  First the dinner, and now I
drank some of his scotch, a prized possession, apparently.