Plaything: Volume Two (6 page)

***

The reason for the bangs and clatters became apparent once Robert directed me back into the bedroom. He’d been moving the mattress, placing long lengths of chain underneath to secure shackles in all four corners.

“Patience,” he began, “is an important attribute of the submissive. You must learn to embrace it, Amy. You must learn to enjoy the experience of being held for another’s pleasure.”

“I haven’t been known for my patience,” I admitted. “I’m not sure it’s going to come easy for me, sir.”

“You’re a quick learner,” he said. “I have every faith in you. This session should help acclimatize you to what you may well come to expect. The sooner you embrace it, the better.”

I ventured closer to the set-up, until I was near enough to trail my fingers across a leather ankle cuff. It felt solid, unyielding.

“I want you naked,” he said. I undressed without a flicker of hesitation, holding my shoulders high and my eyes lowered. “Good girl. On the bed for me. I want you on your back, legs spread wide.”

I climbed up onto the mattress, positioning myself as he wanted. He wasted no time in slipping a cuff around my ankle, buckling me up tight. It was firm, but not uncomfortable. I fought the urge to test its strength while he shackled the other leg. This time he pulled both chains tight towards the corners, until my legs stretched wide and my pussy opened for him.

“You will feel both exposed and vulnerable. Don’t fight the sensation, I want you to embrace it.” He paced to the top of the bed. “Your wrists,” he said. “Give them to me.”

I raised my arms, and he fastened the remaining cuffs tight around my wrists. He shortened the chains until I was fully spread-eagled, pinned in position with barely an inch of wriggle room. This experience wasn’t new to me. I’d been shackled before, for a series of men who didn’t know what they were doing. I doubted this would be the case with Robert.

“Open your mouth, Amy, raise your head for me.”

I took the ballgag without flinching, perfectly at ease as he tightened it behind my head. It was small enough that it didn’t strain my jaw, a perfect fit. Finally, he slipped a blindfold over my eyes. It was a weighty silk, soft against my eyelids but heavy enough to block out all the light.

“You are here at my whim,” he said. “Mine to either use or ignore as I see fit. You will be patient, calm, and willing. You will remember our session earlier, and how much your pleasure depends on your own outlook. You will wait quietly and you will fantasize about what lies in store for you. When I touch you I want you to be ready for me, always ready, Amy. Do you understand?”

I nodded, groaning into the gag as his fingertips dipped between my thighs. “It brings a master pleasure to find his submissive wet for him.” I groaned again as he teased a nipple. “You may test the chains now, you’ll find they hold firm.”

I pulled against the cuffs, and sure enough they didn’t budge.

“I’m going to leave you now,” he said. “I’ll be back when it pleases me.”

I listened intently as he walked away, but soon his footfalls grew muffled under the silk of the blindfold, and I lost track of his location. Silence descended like a heavy blanket, the only reprieve being the gentle whisper of breath through my nostrils. I shifted on the bed, sinking deeper into the covers as the seconds turned to minutes, and eventually turned into long, slow hours. My mind began to wander, dark places morphing into memories of Robert’s warm touch against my skin, his mouth against mine. I wanted to feel that again.

I pictured myself kneeling at his feet, lips parted and eyes lowered like a good girl. I relived the moments where he’d veered on the edge of control, succumbing to the soft rhythm of my lips around his cock. The swell of his arousal in the shower, his soapy body pressed against mine. The growl of his commands in the silence, perfectly authoritative, without the need for humiliation or cruelty.

Robert, the only man I’d never known to deserve the title Master.

I imagined his weight against my skin, his musky scent in my lungs as he positioned his swollen cock just inside my pussy lips.
Please, sir, take me…
I’d whisper
. Oh fuck, please, sir. Please, fuck me.

And he would. He’d fuck me hard, and deep, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d taken his fill. He’d take me until I was tender and spent, and yet still I’d beg him for more, I’d beg him for his touch, even if his pleasure brought me nothing but pain.

His pleasure was all that mattered.

My arousal was so frustrating. I strained against my bonds, shifting as much as I dared, but nothing would quell the spark of desire between my legs. The gag tasted rubbery in my mouth, and I could feel myself beginning to drool. I wished it was him filling my mouth, the taste of him thick in my throat.

Sometimes I’d sense his gaze across my skin, and I’d arch my back as high I could manage, hoping he’d see just how much I wanted him. Sometimes I’d wonder if he was still in the building at all.

I lost all sense of time, and then I lost all sense of why time itself even mattered. I floated between needing him that very second and a calm willingness to wait forever.

When his touch finally arrived, it arrived quietly. It arrived barefoot and slowly, and I was too disoriented to have any awareness of his approach at all. The soft kiss of his lips against my hipbone set me on fire. I struggled, and moaned, begging him for more without words.

“Good girl,” he growled. “Such a good girl.”

His mouth was a different animal as he sucked my nipple between his teeth, and he unleashed the torrent, his hands roaming all over my body. I bucked and gurgled, and the slick folds of my pussy proved my devotion to his instructions.

“Beautiful,” he said. “So wet for me. It’s so tempting to set you free, Amy, but I’m not going to.”

I nodded. To let me go, or make me stay, I was past caring. As long as there was him, and there was me, the preference was redundant.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered. “I’ve been watching you, Amy, every little move you made. I could see it in your body, every single fantasy, every little tremor of lust.” I felt his skin against mine, and he was naked. the chains rattled as my hands reached for him, but they moved nowhere. “Relax,” he said. “I’m going to give you what you need, but more importantly I’m going to give you what
I
need.”

I groaned against the gag as his hands clamped over my cuffed wrists. He raised himself above me, his thighs tight against mine as his cock brushed against my clit. How I writhed under him, and yet he still held back for long seconds, making me work for it. When he pushed inside me, he slammed right to the balls in one deep thrust.

“Fuck, Amy,” he hissed. “You feel so fucking good. This is what I need. This is what I want from you.”

Such limited movement and yet I conveyed so much. The hot, wet grip of my pussy around him, the thrust of my hips, the arch of my back. Every little moan I made for him. The tension in my limbs as I fought my restraints, aching for more of his touch.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know how much you want to please me. It’s a beautiful thing, Amy, truly beautiful.”

Oh, how he fucked me. He’d take me slow and deep, his breath hot against my cheek as he held himself just an inch inside, and then he’d take me hard. Hard enough that the chains would rattle, and I’d screw my eyes shut under the blindfold in delirious pleasure. When he’d taken his fill, and given me more than enough of mine, he pulled the silk from my eyes and stared right into them. “Come for me,” he said. “Come
with
me.”

It was the touchpaper I needed, unraveling like a loose thread until I was nothing but an explosion of lust itself. He came hard, and I’d never taken pleasure in another the way I took pleasure in that moment.

He loosened my gag, and I was smiling, grinning like a lunatic as he stared down on me.

He kissed my forehead, still breathing quickly as he uncuffed my wrists. I was sore, rubbing them back to life while he worked on my ankles. My muscles twitched and cramped with the freedom of movement, but none of that mattered. I flopped down on my side, knees to my chest.

“That was amazing,” I said. “I don’t even know how to process what just happened.”

He cast the chains on the floor. “You did as you were told. You were a good girl, Amy.” He brushed my shoulder. “Are you ok? Sore? Hungry? Cold?”

I shook my head. “Only tired.”

He raised himself from the mattress. “I’ll leave you to sleep, you did well today.”

I grabbed his wrist before he could retreat. “Please,” I begged. “Please, stay.”

“That’s what you want?” I couldn’t read his eyes, but they weren’t cold.

“Please,” I repeated. “That’s what I want.”

Relief washed over me as he pressed his body up against mine. He reached around for my wrists and soothed the cuff marks with his fingers, and in a heartbeat I’d twisted to face him, my cheek to his collarbone and my legs entwined around his.

He didn’t make any attempt to move me until morning.

* * *

Robert

I am a man of focussed purpose, and for me time is a priceless commodity. As I lay through the night with Amy’s arm flung over my chest and one of her legs across my thigh, I wedged a fist under my head and stared up at the ceiling. I was overcome with a melancholy of nostalgia – my mind running through a minefield of life alternatives and bitter regrets.

I was here against my will, training a woman I would never see again once my task was completed. Time was wasting, but, more than that, I could feel emotional bonds forming between myself and Amy – and they were a greater peril than even the precious days I was away from my world.

Emotional involvement with a submissive was always a hazard in a situation such as this: two people thrust together and forced to work under impossible pressure. Diamonds were formed like that – but so was dust.

Amy was becoming fond of me, and I was becoming fond of her.

It had to stop.

Each intimate moment we shared, each time we went beyond the borders of physical sex and training was like an old ship in the water accumulating barnacles. And I was an old ship. Emotional attachment would slow me down, hinder me in moments when I needed to be sharp and incisive. I didn’t want to walk away from this week with a sense of heartbreak or despair for what might have been possible with this woman. Ultimately, that kind of attachment would cost me time and money and freedom.

And it would cost Amy more.

Every moment we were together deepended the sense of her dependency on me. Beyond the cold veneer of the Master, she had seen glimpses of my soul. Like a dense forest canopy of leaves, the sunlight that was her personality had filtered shafts of light and shone them onto dark secret feelings that had not been exposed to the light of day for years.

I moved restlessly on the bed, suddenly feeling a strangulated sense of claustrophobia. Amy made a soft murmuring sound, then nuzzled her cheek against my chest. I moved again and she rolled away in a tangle of sheets.

The night dragged on and sleep came to me fitfully, filled with doubts and demons.

When dawn came I rolled onto my side and stared across the small space of the bed that separated us. Amy was curled up into a ball, her knees tucked close to her chest and the sheet cast aside so that she was naked. The watery light of sunrise painted the smooth skin of her body a golden brown and darkened the shadows. It touched the curve of her hip with light and left her face in silhouette, it trickled across the edge of one breast to highlight the milky white flawlesness of her skin, and shaded the flat of her abdomen and the tops of her thighs. She was breathing softly, and her hair was a tangled fan across the pillow and her shoulders. I reached out and drew the soft touch of my fingertip along the skin of her forearm and the rhythm of her breathing changed. She moistened her lips and then her eyes fluttered open, milky for an instant before coming into focus. She brushed the hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand and her face crinckled into a roguish smile.

“Good morning,” she breathed and widened her eyes, as if seeing me for the first time. Then she arched her back and stretched in a slow and voluptuous display of her body. “Last night was...” she pursed her lips as though searching for the right word.

I cut across her brusquely, my tone harsher than I had intended. “Training,” I said. “Last night was training.”

I got up from the bed and went to the window, sensing the acrimony and hurt in Amy’s eyes as if they were irons of fire branding my back. I stayed there, staring out at the rolling lawns and the shaded facade of the main house until at last I heard her soft footfalls shuffling uncertain and bewildered across the floor as she disappeared into the bathroom. I let out a deep breath, felt my shoulders hunch a little with the weight of what I was about to do – and then the innate senses of purpose and logic came back as if to prop me up, to put steel back into my spine.

I went to the bathroom and hammered my fist on the door. “You have ten minutes,” I said. “Then I want you in the kitchen, naked and bent over the table.”

Amy came into the kitchen with minutes to spare and stared at me belligerently from across the room. Her hair was done and she had made the effort to apply makeup. She smelled of apples and lavender – it was on her skin and in her hair. All those soft feminine scents were at odds with her expression. Her arms were folded across her chest, lifting the shape of her breasts so that the nipples stood proud, and her weight was all on one foot, thrusting out a hip in a stance that could have been defiant or provocative.

My money was on defiant.

“Do you have a problem?” I asked, the tone of my voice sounding like gravel in my throat.

“Yes,” Amy said. “I don’t understand you.”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to.”

She narrowed her eyes into bright arrow heads, the color around her irises flecked with little spears of gold. “I do if you’re going to train me.”

“No,” my voice cracked like a whip and I pushed myself away from the countertop and closed the gap between us with three quick strides. “You don’t have to know me at all. You just have to obey me.
I need to understand you
– the way you work in order to find the most effective way to train you for sale.” I thrust a finger under her nose, “But let’s make one thing clear. You don’t need to know me, and I don’t need to know you. This isn’t an affair – this is a physical relationship soley for the purpose of submissive training.”

Amy blanched under the weltering sting of my lecture and I saw the strike of every cruel word cause a little wound that filled me with regret and remorse. Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away with a flutter of her eyelids. I could see her lips twist into a snarl of retort, but whatever she was about to say stilled on her lips. Her eyes lost the flare of defiance and it was like a light being extinguished. She turned cold, her gaze distant and remote.

“Very well,” she whispered. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It’s the way things need to be,” I said through an expression carved in granite. “For both our sakes.”

With her legs spread wide, the lace of her panties stretched between her knees, and her body folded over the edge of the table, Amy turned her face so that a cheek was pressed to the cold wooden surface. She was utterly open to me. I could see the soft pouting folds of her sex between her parted legs and the knuckles of her spine through the milky flesh of her back. Her breasts were pressed flat and bulging from below where her arms reached out and clutched at the far edge of the countertop.

I unzipped my trousers, stepped out of my clothes, and then went around the edge of the table until the hard thrust of my cock was a provocation close to her face. “Suck me,” I said, and despite my resolve to remain detached, I heard the thickness of my own desire in the back of my throat. “Take me deep.”

Amy moved her head closer to where I stood, and opened her mouth wide. I felt the soft flutter of her tongue swirl across the swollen thickness of my shaft. I closed my eyes, strangled the sound of a fierce grunt, and reached down to tangle my fingers in her hair. The touch of her tongue and the warm caress of her breath was like an electrical charge. She took the tip of me between her lips and the grip of her mouth was moist and soft as velvet.

“Yes,” I hissed.

Amy made soft slurping sounds; little gasped breaths of effort and strain. I thrust my hips and the length of me slid down her throat. Her eyes watered, and I felt her body reflexively tense. I reached down and pressed the side of her face firmly against the tabletop, pinning her in place so that her mouth was open and the slide of my cock was like a bolt into a waiting latch. She swiveled her eyes until she was looking up at me. I thrust again and again until the entire length of my shaft was slick and slippery, and then I stepped back, leaving Amy gasping to fill her lungs with air.

“Good,” I grunted.

She lifted her face a little off the table. “Can you keep going, sir? I really love it when you do that to me. It so fucking turns me on, sir.”

She said it with such passion, such raw throaty lust that for an instant I blanched. I glanced at her face to read her expression but it was a perfect mask of submissive blankness.

“You want more?”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir!”

I hesitated. Was I being played? Had Amy become so adept at submission that now she was capable of bewildering even me? Was the apprentice outsmarting the Master? I narrowed my eyes and stepped back to the edge of the table. Amy opened her mouth wide in hungry anticipation. I brushed the tip of my cock across the soft swollen petals of her lips and her tongue flicked out in anticipation. “Please...!” her plea seemed genuine but I’d learned that Amy was a woman of complex layers and disguises. I thrust myself back into her mouth and felt the tip of my cock brush against the back of her throat. Her eyes grew huge in her face and a trickle of saliva dribbled from the stretched corner of her mouth. I held myself, iron hard, within the swirling clutch of her lips for a full minute and then withdrew myself like I was wrenching a dagger from a wound.

Amy gave a great gasping heave and her back arched as her lungs filled with fresh air. She gulped for a moment like a stranded fish and then lasciviously licked her lips. “Fuck yes!” she growled, her voice hoarse. “Please do it again, sir.”

I stepped away frowning deeply, my eyes fixed on Amy as if this was some kind of witchcraft. She was wriggling her fingers and shifting her weight at the edge of the table, parting her thighs just an inch wider.

“Stay still and do not move,” I said. “I’m going to fuck you. I want you to focus on my pleasure only...
and I don’t want you to utter a word
.”

I went around behind where she was bent and open, and scratched my clawed hand down the soft smooth flesh of her back, raking my nails into the skin so that they left red raised marks. Amy arched her back like a cat being caressed, and a rash of goosebumps broke out along her forearms. Then I rubbed the palm of my hand across the silky smooth folds of her pussy and felt the flood of her arousal. She was slick and moist, the heat from her depths warm and welcoming. I pushed myself inside her with one long slow teasing thrust and as the length of me filled her, she seemed to undulate her body, adjusting and moulding herself to the thickness of my cock in a kind of slow gyrating dance of her hips. She was melting against me, breathing deeply with  intense concentration as though she could feel every inch of my shaft. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp of desire and then her brow furrowed. She caught her bottom lip begween her teeth and then her breathing broke out into a rush of sharp ragged pants. Every sensation was there in her eyes and played out across her face. She was wanton and willing. She was wet and whimpering.

And I wanted her like no other woman before.

I clamped my hands on Amy’s hips, digging my fingers deep into the firm resillient flesh, and closed my eyes. The tight pulsating feel of her wrapped around me was like an aching throb – clenching to the beat of some primal rhythm that was as old as time and the stars. I threw back my head, and ground my body against her so that we were locked together. Amy gave a husky purr and I opened my eyes again. She had turned her head to glance at me over her shoulder. Her eyes snapped with the spark of some unfathomable emotion. Something danced like sizzling sparks of electricity between us. I withdrew myself and then thrust into her again and again. The table began to slide across the kitchen floor, and Amy’s body became a cushion for each deep drive from my hips. I stood braced on the balls of my feet, the breath beginning to saw harsh in the back of my throat, my senses beginning to thrill. Amy rode the tumult of each moment with me, echoing each stifled cry, mirroring every gasp and wicked moan of passion.

When I came at last, Amy’s body convulsed and writhed around my own. We heaved and clung to each other like survivors on a storm-tossed ocean. The world fell away into a dark, dark void filled with bright flashes of pinwheeling light and the echoes of our cries, sounding mute and distant until the mist cleared and we were still there –  exhausted and spent in the tiny kitchen.

I stepped back from the table, my legs trembling, breath ragged in my throat. Amy stood slowly and turned to face me. The skin across her neck and chest was flushed bright red, her nipples dark and hard. She ran one hand down across her side, over her hip to the top of her thigh, her fingers languid as though her flesh still tingled from the release of her own orgasm.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly. “Your performance and your willingness to accommodate me were commendable,” I heard the words in my own ears and cringed. I sounded like a school principal handing out honors awards to worthy students.

Amy seemed not to have heard. She took a step closer and then scraped her fingers through her hair with something like incredulity. 

“I’ve never...” Amy shook her head slowly. “Not like that. Never...”

I said nothing. I could feel the ground between us open up like quicksand. The emotional experience of what we had just shared had shaken Amy in a way I had never expected. She licked her lips and I could see a sudden profound expression come over her face, the way a theater curtain is pulled back and secrets are revealed.