At Her Command (6 page)

He knelt on the floor at her feet and
presented the sock and belt. She left him holding them, arms
outstretched and quivering, as if they weighed twenty pounds. “I
told you to make our reservations last week. Why didn’t you do
it?”

“I have no excuse, mistress,” Nathan
whispered.

“You deserve to be punished.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Say,
I deserve to be punished
.”

“I deserve to be punished.”

“For failing to obey Mistress Bridget.”

“For failing to obey Mistress Bridget.”
Nathan choked on the words.

“Do you know what
figging
is?”

“No, mistress.”

“It was used to punish and humiliate female
offenders and prisoners in the Victorian age. The Greeks and Romans
first used it on female slaves. Victorian husbands figged their
disrespectful wives and spanked them. The ginger root is inserted
in the anus or vagina. It begins to burn. Tightening the buttocks
increases the burning by squeezing the root.” Nathan stared at her
bright red toenails encased in her black, five-inch, peep-toe pumps
as she stood and took the belt and soiled sock.

“Lean over the arm of the couch.” Nathan
stood and faced her. She was two-inches taller than he was in her
heels. Her thick black hair lay on her bare shoulders. Her full
lips were the same blood-red color as her toenails. He lay over the
arm of the couch, resting his chest on the cushions. She pulled
back his left wrist. His anus flexed against his steel butt-plug as
she closed the handcuff around his wrist. She cuffed his right
wrist. Nathan willed his muscles to relax as she removed his
butt-plug. She held the soiled sock under his nose for several
seconds, letting him savor her foot sweat before she pressed it
into his mouth.

The ginger root’s girth was slightly larger
than the butt-plug, but after six months, Nathan’s anus was well
trained. He felt nothing for the first thirty seconds. “Perhaps
you’ll learn to follow my orders from now on, slave.” She brought
the three-inch leather belt down across his bare buttocks hard.
SLAP. Nathan bit down hard on the soiled sock. SLAP. His buttocks
stung and his anus began to burn. SLAP, SLAP. The sock muffled his
first scream. SLAP, SLAP, SLAP. His screams became sobs, as tears
clouded his vision. The ginger burned his anus like a hot coal, but
his muscles flexed uncontrollably as the blows rained down. SLAP,
SLAP, SLAP. Bridget dropped the belt on the floor and walked away,
leaving Nathan naked and helpless, draped over the couch.

He began to choke on the sock. His legs
cramped and a wave of panic swept over him as he fought to catch
his breath. He heard the staccato sound of heels on the hardwood
floor. Bridget pulled the sock from his mouth and lifted him by the
shoulders. Nathan gasped as she held him upright, anus burning, his
cheeks wet with tears, and snot running from his nose. “Can you
stand by yourself?”

“Y...yes, mistress.” The metallic click of
the handcuffs rang in his ears as she unlocked them, and gently
removed them. She held a tissue to his face as if he was a
child.

“Blow. You may remove the ginger root and
shower.” Nathan was suddenly overpowered by her beauty.

“I’m... I’m sorry, mistress.” Bridget
caressed his cheek.

“It’s over. You’re forgiven. We won’t speak
of it again.”

*****

Bridget held Nathan’s hand as they approached
the front desk. “Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Scott,” Bridget said,
as if she had been saying it for years. She rubbed it in by saying
Mrs
. rather than
Ms
.

“Certainly, Mrs. Scott, may I see the credit
card used to make the reservation, please?” Nathan handed the
skinny, pimply-faced man his American Express card. He ran the card
through a reader, tapped on the computer keyboard, and activated
two keycards. He handed them to Nathan in a small portfolio with a
flier of house rules printed by Dark Quests’ organizers. “The
promoters asked us to provide this to our guests, the rules of the
road for the weekend. You’re on the second floor, fourth room on
the left. The elevator is that way.” He motioned with his head.

Their wedding had lasted all of five minutes
in a clerk’s office. Bam, they were husband and wife in the eyes of
the law. “
Nathan, take Bridget by the hand and repeat after me.
I Nathan, take thee Bridget, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have
and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer
or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until
death do us part.”
He’d choked when he got to the words to
love and to cherish
. He did love Bridget. He loved her more
than life itself. And if she wouldn’t allow him to be her real
husband, a life as her slave was better than not having her. He
couldn’t have her, but she had him. She owned him. The night
before, he’d signed a contract of perpetual slavery.

Of my own free will, I, Nathan A. Scott,
herein known as slave, hereby grant Bridget R. Kelly, herein known
as Mistress, full ownership, care and use my body, mind, income,
assets, and possessions. The slave will own nothing and will be the
sole property of Mistress for all time and in perpetuity, from this
date, the 22nd day of January, 2014, at 8:00 pm.

The slave agrees to submit completely to the
Mistress in all ways. There are no boundaries of place, time, or
situation, in which the slave may willfully refuse to obey the
Mistress without risking punishment. The slave also agrees that,
once entered into this contract, his body belongs to the Mistress
to be used as she sees fit, within the guidelines defined herein.
All possessions likewise belonging to the slave, including all
assets, finances, and material goods, belong to the Mistress to do
with as she sees fit. The slave agrees to please the Mistress to
the best of his ability, in that he now exists solely for the
pleasure of said Mistress. The slave agrees to accept punishment by
the Mistress as she see fit...

Nathan carried one bag and rolled the other
behind as they exited the elevator. Bridget stopped in front of
room 216 and opened the door with the keycard. He followed her into
the well-appointed room. A Dark Quest welcome bag with their names
was on the credenza beside a fruit basket. Bridget removed the
bottle of lube, blue hospital-style wristbands, complimentary drink
tickets, a schedule of events, and a second copy of the house
rules.
Street legal attire is required in all public areas of
the hotel. This includes the lobby, restaurants, bar, corridors,
hallways, and stairs. Nudity is only permitted in private hotel
rooms and designated play spaces.
Bridget snapped hers closed
on her wrist. “I guess these are our admission passes.”

Bridget dressed in a tight, black leather
skirt, matching halter, and five inch black pumps. Nathan dressed
in the black tee shirt and pants she’d picked out for him. “There
is a mixer in thirty minutes that I want to attend.” She handed him
the complimentary drink tickets.” I’m leaving my purse in the safe;
bring your wallet.” Nathan fastened his wristband, patted his
wallet through his black pants, and slipped the keycard in his
front pocket.

*****

They passed a security guard at the ballroom
entrance; he glanced at their wristbands and nodded. Nathan shed
his clothes and followed Bridget. A uniformed bartender stood
behind a cash bar in the corner. A line of leather-daddies,
cross-dressers, new agers, kinksters, and swingers, dressed in
costumes that would appeal to nearly any fetishist’s dreams, waited
for their turn at the bar. Bridget engaged a similarly dressed,
leather-clad blonde, wearing thigh-high boots, as Nathan moved
through the line. A dyke sporting a high-and-tight crew cut, gave
him an evil stare when he looked at her date, a waifish girly-girl
in a little black dress. He carried two glasses of white wine to
Bridget.

“Inga, this is my slave, Nathan.” The woman’s
eyes were as blue as Bridget’s. Both women stood two inches taller
than Nathan, and looked down at him with the same look of amusement
at his discomfort.

“How long have you kept him in chastity?”
Inga asked, casually looking at Nathan’s crotch, and not caring who
noticed. Nathan felt the color rise in his cheeks.

“Six months.”

“Do you allow him masturbate?” Her accent was
European, perhaps Swedish.

“Occasionally.”

“Do you milk him?”

“No, that’s the main reason we came. I saw
there was a workshop on prostate milking.” Inga looked at Nathan
and smiled.

“I’m leading the workshop tomorrow.” A
feeling of panic swept over him.

“I’ll need a male instructional subject to
participate in the demonstration.”

“Do you plan to milk him in front of the
workshop?” Bridget touched Inga’s forearm and smiled, eyes
twinkling.

“Yes, of course, if you will permit it.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather see.”

“I believe in the old adage, see one, do one,
teach one.” Nathan realized he’d been holding his breath and
gasped, taking in a deep breath and spilling his wine.

“Let’s get a table, Inga. I’d like to pick
your brain.” Bridget handed Nathan their empty wines glasses. Get
Inga and me another drink.” Nathan watched them slink away arm and
arm, as most of the room stared at the tall women who could have
passed for sisters. He had to hunt for them in the crowded room,
but found them after circling the ballroom twice. He handed each
woman a glass and sat down beside Bridget.

“He’s not used to wearing clothes or sitting
on the furniture when he’s with me.” Inga looked at Nathan and then
looked back at Bridget.

“So he’s a real slave, how nice. My late
husband was my slave for ten years.” Bridget’s happy face turned
sad.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was it recent?”

“A little over a year. He was a very health
conscious man, careful of what he ate, and he exercised daily. He
developed lung cancer, never having smoked. At least it was quick.”
Bridget patted Inga’s hand. “I kept him in chastity the entire ten
years, milking his prostate three times a week. It brought us very
close. He was totally dependant on me.”

“I know the obvious benefits, they are well
documented. What are the less well-known benefits, Inga?” The tall
blonde woman sipped her wine before setting down the glass.

“The essence of prostate milking as it
relates to male chastity is that it rids the body of seminal fluid,
flushing the prostate, while not providing the mental release
provided by a male orgasm. When a male achieves orgasm he
temporarily loses interest in sex. It might be six hours or it
might be twenty-four hours. It depends on the man’s age and general
health. During that time, he becomes complacent, lazy, and loses
focus on his role of pleasing his mistress. Proper administration
of a secure chastity device enables a woman to perpetually deny her
slave an orgasm, keeping him in a state of sexual frustration and
denial. Prostate massage ensures good prostate health, stimulates a
closer bond, and provides needed humiliation.”

Nathan picked up their glasses without being
told and walked to the bar. Twenty yards from the table he stopped,
nearly dropping the glasses. One of Bridget’s five-inch pumps lay
on the floor beside its mate as Inga caressed Bridget’s bare foot
in her lap. Neither woman turned as he set the wineglasses on the
table. They continued their conversation in hushed tones, both
giggling every few seconds as they blushed pink. Bridget turned to
Nathan.

“Have room service send a bottle to our room.
We’re going up now.” Bridget reached under the table and replaced
her shoe. Both women stood and walked out of the ballroom arm in
arm. Nathan remembered that he had the only key card and rushed
after them. He watched the doors close on the crowded elevator when
he was twenty-feet away, turned, and rushed into the stair tower.
He took the steps two at a time, grappling with the handrail,
racing the elevator. He stepped onto the second floor as the
elevator door opened, panting, and holding the open door for them
when they arrived. “Did you order the wine?”

“I remembered you didn’t have a key and
thought I should let you in first.” Bridget nodded and led Inga
into the room by the hand. They fell into each other’s arms before
Nathan could close the door, kissing and exploring each others
bodies. Nathan went to the desk and ordered a bottle of Sauvignon
Blanc, two glasses, and a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

Bridget lay naked on the bed when he opened
the door, black hair loose and flowing on the white pillow. Nathan
stared, feeling the heat wash over him. Inga knelt at the bottom of
the bed sucking Bridget’s exquisite toes, wearing nothing but black
thong panties. “Undress slave,” Bridget panted. “Get naked and
worship Inga’s ass.” Nathan shed his clothes, leaving them in a
pile on the floor by the credenza. He could almost hear his heart
pounding as he climbed on the queen-sized bed behind Inga. Tan
lines and the black thong accented the creamy white skin of her
firm buttocks. Nathan’s anus clenched the steel butt-plug. His
imprisoned cock twitched, causing the Steelheart to rock up and
down. Bridget moaned and cooed as Inga kissed her nipples and
caressed her belly.

Inga didn’t miss a beat as Nathan slipped her
thong panties down her thighs. He leaned close and parted her firm
buttocks, breathing in her musky essence, studying her tight,
dusky, wrinkled anus. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips
against her firm buttocks. Inga sighed and quivered as he ran his
tongue over her wrinkled flesh. Nathan got lost between her
buttocks reveling in her sweet taste and scent, as Bridget’s and
Inga’s moans of pleasure rang his ears. “Stick... your... finger...
in... my... pussy,” Inga panted.

Nathan caressed the patch of blonde fuzz atop
her smooth vulva, and ran his fingers over her warm, damp labia.
Bridget moaned as Inga began bathing her pussy with her tongue.
Inga arched her back as Nathan inserted one, then two fingers into
her pussy, as he pressed his tongue into her tight asshole.
“Oh...that feels so good, slave,” Inga gasped as Nathan
finger-fucked her. “Tongue my asshole, slave.” Inga’s dirty talk
pushed Bridget over the edge.