Jane Shoup (6 page)

Maybe it didn’t matter that
much, as long as he wanted her and cared about her. Desire and passion were
what Mitch had withheld from her all those months. And consideration and
warmth. He’d made her feel tolerated, as though she weren’t really desirable.
Putting things into perspective hurt, but it helped, as well. She had not seen
things clearly for all those months. It was important to seek and accept the
truth now. “The basement,” she murmured. Ah, yes, the basement and the man who
waited for her to show up and offer herself. She sat up to begin getting ready.

* * * *

Jenny was about to leave
the apartment when her cell phone rang again. Caller identification merely
stated ‘no data.’ “Hello?”

“You’re late,” he
whispered.

Her throat tightened. “I
was just leaving.”

“Do you have the scarf with
you?” he asked.

“No.”

There was a second of
silence and then,“Get it,” he said.

She walked back to the
bedroom and got it. He still hadn’t hung up. “Got it,” she reported as she
walked back through the living room.

“Walk to the door,” he whispered.

She came to an abrupt halt,
then started forward again. Was he just beyond the door? She stopped in front
of it and peered out through the peephole. The hall was empty as far as she
could see.

“Unlock the door,” he
whispered.

“Where are you?”

“I’m close. Unlock the
door.”

Her hand reached out and
unlocked the door. She was trembling.

“I did not hurt you in the
basement,” he reminded her. “I won’t hurt you anywhere. Now, tie the scarf
around your eyes.”

She swallowed. This was too
much. This left her too much control and responsibility.

“Do it,” he hissed.

She set her phone and keys
on the floor and tied the scarf around her eyes, securing it in back. She felt
for the phone and put it back to her ear. God, this felt so weird. What was she
doing?

“Is it done?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded
breathless and small.

“Is it tight enough?”

“Yes.” Even more
breathless.

“Can you see?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Put the phone on the floor
and then put your hands behind your back and clasp them together.”

She obeyed the dictate.
Is
this what I really like…being controlled and manipulated?
She’d always
thought of herself as so regular and normal, so
vanilla
before. Where
had that word come from? She strained to hear any sound, but all she heard was
her own breathing–until the doorknob twisted. She had a sudden urge to rip off
the scarf, but he was already here, in front of her. She heard the door shut
again.

She wore an ankle-length
black skirt and a lightweight, white fuzzy sweater. Her nipples tented the sweater
in obvious arousal. “No bra,” he commented. He saw her swallow. “Panties?” he
asked. He lifted the skirt to see for himself. “Good,” he said when he saw she
was without. “You’re ready for me, but you were late. Turn around.”

She turned and felt her
sweater being lifted up slowly and carefully. He pulled it off, careful not to
disturb the blindfold. A second later, his hands gripped her breasts and
squeezed.

“Your nipples are hard,” he
whispered by her ear. She felt a light scraping of his teeth on the rim of her
ear. Soft, warm wetness filled her ear. He tongued it as he teased and
tormented her nipples. His hardened cock strained toward her hands, which were
still poised behind her back.

“Kick your shoes off,” he
ordered. He held onto her for support as she did as instructed.

Slowly, he unzipped and
slipped her skirt down and then braced her as she stepped out of it. Her hands
came apart for the sake of balance.

“I didn’t say you could
move your hands.”

She couldn’t come up with a
reply fast enough. For one thing, he was demanding and commanding more. It
robbed her of all thought and made her blood surge with excitement.

“Put them back,” he
insisted.

She did, frowning, and felt
her wrists being bound by silk. Another scarf. She’d looked up the Hermes scarf
on the internet and discovered it cost more than three hundred dollars. Her
stranger obviously had money. He took her shoulders and led her forward—toward
the kitchen, it seemed. “Where are we going?” She thought of sharp, kitchen
knives and an unexpected fear gripped her.

“Kitchen.”

“Why?” she blurted.

“I brought wine. That’s
why.”

Her feet touched the cool
tile in the kitchen. A moment later, he stopped and she heard a chair scrape on
the floor. “Sit,” he whispered. She did. The chair felt hard and cold. She’d
never sat here naked before.
Naked, bound and blindfolded.
She suddenly
felt submerged in shame.
What the hell am I doing?
She had allowed every
bit of this. She could hear drawers being opened and closed.

“Here it is,” he said.
“Corkscrew,” he added for clarification.

She heard a soft pop and
the sound of wine being poured. He walked back to her and held the glass under
her nose. She jerked slightly when she caught a whiff.

“It’s a shiraz, slightly
chilled,” he told her. “Taste.”

He held it to her lips and
allowed her to sip. “It’s good,” she admitted. “But this isn’t very
comfortable.” She felt the glass at her lips again and drank. This time it was
more than a sip. She took a big swallow and almost choked.

It was quiet and then she
felt him kiss her knee. “Spread your legs for me.” His whisper came from chair
height. He was kneeling or sitting in front of her.

“Uh, look…”

He wrenched her knees
apart.

“Hey,” she objected. She jumped
to her feet, working to undo the binding around her wrists. She was suddenly
swept off the ground and placed on the kitchen table, flat on her back. “What
the hell?” she insisted angrily.

She kicked at him and
narrowly missed as he took a step to the countertop for one of the spatulas in
a decorative canister. He tried a few drawers until he found clean kitchen
towels and washcloths. She struggled to get up, but he was back over her before
she managed it. She’d turned sideways and tried to slide off the table, having
no idea how well that suited him. He grabbed hold of her bent legs, and brought
the metal spatula down on a buttock. She sucked her breath at the furious sting
and he took advantage of her surprise. He flipped her onto her stomach, then brought
the spatula down on the other pale buttock. He smacked the first cheek again,
but she’d found her breath and voice and began screaming obscenities at him. He
reached over and forced the towel into her mouth, then went back to work,
delivering even blows back and forth on her squirming, now-reddened ass. He
didn’t want to leave her bruised, at least, not very bruised, but slow,
stinging punishment was necessary. After a dozen blows, he stopped and waited
for her to calm.

He turned her back over,
keeping a tight grip on her legs. Her face was flushed and she looked furious.
Of course, it was mostly her pride hurting. “
Sshhh
,” he said several
times. “Calm down. Or maybe you’d like me to keep going.” He finally let go of
her legs and backed up, but keeping his eyes glued on her. She was shaking, but
she would shake some more before he was finished with her. “Do you want me to
take the gag out of your mouth?” he asked.

His mouth was near her ear
because he had rounded the table and sat. She was too furious to respond at
first, but after a few moments she nodded.

He pulled it out and put
his hands around her head, his fingers pressing alongside her face. “Never tell
me to stop,” he whispered. “I am your Master and you are mine to command.” He
hadn’t planned to say it, so it surprised him as much as her as it came out.
Once stated, it was obvious that this was what they’d been moving toward. He
had been controlling her and she had willed it to continue.

The words caused a cold,
calm sensation to fill her and still her.
That was it.
She was a
submissive
hoping for a man...
a master
to dominate her. That’s why she’d given
Mitch all that power over her life. She’d never realized
—

Ryan stared down at her,
trying to discern the expression behind the blindfold. She’d stopped struggling
and was slowly catching her breath. He’d expected a fight, a furious reaction
to his proclamation, but she seemed to be absorbing it. Was she accepting it,
or thinking about how to karate kick his balls? “What do you say?” he
whispered.

She swallowed. What did she
say? Her ass was throbbing, that’s what she said.

“Answer me,” he insisted.

“I don’t know what to say,”
she bit out through clenched teeth.

“Master,” he chided. “I
don’t know what to say,
Master
.”

She opened her mouth and
closed it again. No way. She could not call him, or anyone ‘master.’ No way. He
was moving again, slowly walking back around the table. What was he up to now?
“May I please get up?” she asked.

“No.” His stomach was
tight, his cock hard and throbbing as he stared down at the long handled wooden
spoon he’d grabbed and brought around with him. The head was just the right
shape and size to set her pussy on fire. He grabbed hold of her legs again and
forced her knees toward her chest.“You must learn to obey.” He rubbed the
wooden spoon up and down her leg, to let her know what was coming. “I’ll be
patient with you tonight, but you must learn.”

Her mouth parted slightly,
her breath coming faster.

He didn’t have to rear back
to strike, small flicks of the wrist were enough. He paddled her swollen pussy
lips with fast, sure licks of the spoon. The smacking sound was satisfying, as
were the sounds coming from deep in her throat. “Is that enough?” he asked
after a solid minute of punishment. “Or do you need more?”

“No, no,” she replied,
shaking her head from side to side. “Enough!”

He made a clicking sound
with his mouth.

“Master,” she blurted.

He sighed deeply,
considering his handiwork. Her ass was red and hot, her pussy was pink and
glistening and she was shaking
—
yet saying what he told her to. “Five
more strikes,” he announced. “Shall I paddle your ass or your pussy?”

A breathy sound escaped
her.

“If you don’t say, I’ll
paddle them both.”

“Please,” she begged. “No.”

“Both then. But with my
hand. Will that be better?”

She couldn’t think clearly.
“Y-yes,” she replied weakly.

“Yes what?”

“Please don’t make me say
it.”

He considered her a long
moment. “Let’s go into the bedroom. I’ll take care of you in there.”

He eased her off the table and
walked her through the apartment, into her bedroom. His hands were firm, one on
the back of her neck and one on her arm. In the bedroom, he brought her to the
edge of the bed, then leaned in so close that his mouth grazed her ear when he
spoke. “Your ass is going to be sore tomorrow and every few minutes, you’ll
think of me, won’t you?”

He began fumbling with her
wrist binding, freeing her hands.

“If you pull off your
blindfold, you will be severely punished,” he warned. “This has been play, so
far. Do you want to be severely punished?”

She shook her head.

“Hands to your sides,” he
commanded.

She obeyed.

He reached around, grabbed
her breasts and kneaded them in his strong fingers. “It’s hard for you to call
me Master,” he observed. “But I am. You know that I am.”

She didn’t reply.

“Should we come up with a
different name?” he asked. His hands tightened. “Something more politically
correct?”

Was he being sarcastic? She
couldn’t tell because he never spoke above a whisper.

“Climb onto the bed on your
hands and knees,” he said.

Was he angry? She moved
forward into place and he took a moment to reposition her sideways to better
reach her.

He rubbed her warm, red
buttocks lovingly, enjoying the heat he’d caused, before raising back and
delivering a slap. Her cry was muffled and then he repeated the motion. Soft,
smooth, loving strokes, savoring the heat he’d created, and then
slap
.
After the third blow, he instructed her to spread her legs apart. He worked his
hand in over her pussy to locate the best landing spot, then drew back and
struck. He’d never spanked a woman before, so the intense enjoyment took him by
surprise. He concentrated on the feel and the sounds of impact and lost count.

He could not wait any more
to fuck her, he was so engorged. He repositioned her, put on a condom and
pushed inside her with a satisfied grunt. Half crazed with lust, he slammed
into her with a ruthless force. He went at it as long as he could until an
orgasm swept over him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping and weak. He allowed
her to collapse on the bed and backed up to sit and recover some strength in an
armchair.