The same night, Ben left her with a kiss where he pressed her up against the car door, and she was ready to claw his clothes off him. When he called her at midnight, he was stretched out in front of his flat-screen, watching one of the latest offerings from an erotic filmmaker. Ben casually described the scene he was watching, of a woman on all fours being fucked from behind while she gave oral service to her Master. Ben asked her if she fantasized about such a scenario, made her tell him her reactions in detail, physical and emotional. Before long, she was sweating through her nightshirt.
“You’re trying to make me into a lust-crazed lunatic,” she accused.
“Lie down on your back,” he said.
The switch from teasing seduction to command flipped a switch inside of her. She lay down immediately, aware her limbs were shaking.
“Legs spread. Arms to the headboard.”
Everything stretched to snapping in another heartbeat. That dark, insidious edge to Ben, the edge he’d been holding back, was in his voice now. In an instant, she wanted to be punished, wanted more than that firm pat. She wanted to be gagged, roped down, beaten within an inch of her life and then fucked in the ass, into unconsciousness.
“Close your eyes.”
She did, and bit her lip, hard, to keep herself still. She imagined his hands on her ankles, the sound of a cuff being wrapped around one, then the other, the tension as they were fastened to the end of the bed. He’d do the same to her wrists.
She hadn’t worn any panties under the nightshirt, because she couldn’t handle the friction. She wanted to be good for her Master, but she just couldn’t be anymore. She imagined him bending over her in the dark, his green gaze intent, that mouth stern, uncompromising. As kind and romantic as he’d been these past few days, she knew that transition, when the sadist in him would rise to the top. He wanted to make her suffer, wanted to make her scream with pleasure, beg for mercy that he wouldn’t give. He’d run his hand down her sternum, tug on her nipple piercing, and then his hand would go lower, lower.
Her hips jerked, imagining his hands there, his fingers sliding into her soaked pussy, pushing, stroking. He’d hook the clit ring, tug on it, sharp enough to send a pain through the tissues. Then he’d lift her up, lie beneath her, and put his cock in her ass. Take all of me, baby. That’s it, squeeze down on me. You keep coming down on me, lifting up…down. There you go. And every time you go up or down, you squeeze on me like your life depends on it.
He was murmuring it to her, his voice a sexy rumble over the phone. She was gasping, telling him she was doing just that. Doing it to empty air, believing it was his cock, and the constricting of the muscles in her rectum were contracting her pussy, rippling along her clit.
“Ben…Master…” She whispered it, whimpered it. She needed him, needed him. She couldn’t wait another moment for him. She loved him. She needed to serve him, which meant she needed to be good, she needed to wait. But she couldn’t stop moving her hips up and down, up and down, imagining his cock deep inside her, his fingers working in her dripping cunt. “Please…oh God…”
Stretched out on the bed, nothing touching her but air, her imagination and his voice, she climaxed, a hard pull on her lower abdomen, thighs thrumming with the sensation, pussy spasming. “Oh God…Master…”
The words he spoke to her didn’t matter. She clung to his voice, the rough edge of it that told her he was working his cock, listening to her come for him. When she came down, far too soon, needing more than just the empty imagining, she held the phone tight, quelling an odd desire to press it against her pussy, the closest she could get to him.
“You came without permission. I’ll be taking care of that soon.”
“How soon?” she demanded.
He gave a low, dangerous chuckle. “Careful what you wish for, brat.”
* * * * *
Now it was day twenty-one. While he was merciless, the timeline had given her a blissful light at the end of the tunnel. The note had arrived yesterday, in a box containing a shimmering forest green short robe and matching slippers.
When you get up Friday morning, you won’t be going into work. Do not shower. Wear only what’s in this box and your nipple and clit jewelry. Unless you get dizzy from it, no food for twelve hours. Sips of water as needed. Whenever you sit or lie down today, your thighs will stay open. When your pussy gets wet (what I’d expect from a shameless slut like yourself), you will not clean your cream off your thighs.
A limo will pick you up at seven. Make no special preparations. Bring nothing but yourself and this robe. Leave your hair down, no clips or ties. Once you get into the limo, you will not speak unless asked a direct question. Until you see me, no male should touch you. No incidental brush against Lucas at the house, no taking the driver’s hand to get into the limo. Every inch of your soft skin is mine to touch, mine alone. Your Master
A gardenia tied with a ribbon lay on the top of the robe. She’d brushed the petals over her cheek as she fingered the fabric. The silk was so thin it clung to her hips and breasts like skin. The kids had school, and were going to be picked up afterward by Rachel to go to the movies. With Cass and Lucas at work, Marcie had the house
