Untitled (22 page)

    She waited respectfully and watched him as he worked his way toward a leather chair and sank down, appearing quite tired. Then he looked up as if he expected her to speak. The questions her mind struggled to answer quickly returned…

    "He really did sell me? I mean Alain is really here?"

    "Now what do you think, Miss…? I'm afraid I don't know your name."

    "Meredith."

    "Yes, Meredith. Lovely name." He stared at her until she started to fidget uncomfortably.

    "Sir, please. You mean that he's here…Alain Danvers…is really here? He wasn't supposed to be."

    "And why was that?"

    "Because, he said that we wouldn't be going to this year's Masquerade."

you're
here."

    She bit her lip and screwed up her face. "Yes," she ventured, "and that's the problem, isn't it? I had a terrible time staying away…"

    "And thought you could get away with coming. He'd never know. Is that it?"

    "Yes, I suppose so."

    "'Oh, the tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.'"

"That's Shakespeare."

    "So, it is."

    "And look at the tangled web you've woven, Meredith."

    "Yes. I guess I've…I've been sold." The sound of it was so heartless, so cruel, so unbelievable, especially for Alain Danvers. "I just can't believe he'd do that."

    "Well, he has. And right now, I think you should think less about the man who sold you and more about the one who
bought
you. For the night, you're obligated to me, and I expect to be obeyed or you'll end up in the
other
dungeon of my house, the one I don't share with the public."

    "Oh, my!" she shrunk back fearfully. "Well then, sir, what can I do to please you?"

    "You can first take off those silly clothes and the wig and mask. I'd like a good look at what I paid good money for."

    "You actually paid him money?"

    "Five one-hundred dollar bills."

    "But I'm not a whore!" she spouted.

    "But you are your master's to do with as he pleases."

    "Yes, sir." She bowed her head and began to pull the wig from her own dark hair. The mask came with it, until her disguise was nearly shed.

    "Now just the skirt. The corset can stay as long as you pull down that blouse so I can see your tits. And leave the shoes, even if they are killing your feet." He smiled. "I saw you limping."

    Blushing, she tucked the blue blouse into her corset exposing her upturned breasts and pink, swollen nipples. A few tugs and the skirt was down, leaving just the tiny lace thong that Stacy had earlier urged her to remove. That meager thong felt like a cloak of steel at the moment – the only thing remaining to protect her from Thorsby's ogling eyes. She believed her sex was reserved for her master…but now her master had sold her to another man. If he sold her, then even the treasure beyond the thong belonged to Edmund Thorsby.

    Reality suddenly cut through the layers of fantasy that fueled the night. She belonged to a stranger, a handsome older man, akin to her master, an authoritative dominant whose very essence oddly held her enthralled. He had none of the power with which Alain had so effectively, so unconsciously wooed her, but the gravitas of the moment was not lost on her submissive spirit, nor was what she felt obliged to do.

    "Turn around and let me see," he said, once she was stripped of the costume, dressed only in the corset, thong and heels, and what remained of the little puffed sleeved blouse.

    She followed orders well and turned around.

    "Now bend over and touch the floor. I want to see your ass."

    Shivering with embarrassment, she struck the pose finding herself almost toppling to the floor, although she managed to keep the pose, presenting her ass to Edmund Thorsby just as ordered.

    "Dammit remove the panties!" he suddenly blurted out, as if the thong offended him.

    She immediately obeyed.

    With the thong stripped away, there was no hiding the rest of her physical assets, even less so when he snapped once again, "Spread your legs, girl. I want them wide!"

    She spread her legs while awkwardly holding the pose, exposing her sex from her anus to her wet cunt lips. The entire time, her sexual heat was on the rise. A new fantasy had kicked in and for just this sliver of time, she could almost imagine becoming intimate with this master.

    "You understand, I bought you because I'm a fan of caning women's asses. When yours came up for sale, I couldn't resist the opportunity to etch yours with a string of fiery welts."

    She instantly flinched. His cold words turned her blood to ice and everything in her chilled at the sadistic tone of his voice.

    "If this is what my master wants," she said.

    "It doesn't matter what your master wants." He popped up from his chair. "I bought you. I own you. Your body is mine to use as I desire, and no man, even the one who sold you to me has the right to say what I can or cannot do to you tonight." He was feeling up her ass, his fingers cold at first, then warming as her hot skin warmed them. He pushed one into her anus and she flinched, softly whimpering. Then something cold ran along her anal crack, and two slick fingers jabbed inside her rectum. It didn't seem to matter that this man was a total stranger; she became the servant of her lust for surrender, finding her body responding unthinkingly to the indignity of the physical assault with unwavering consent.

    He fucked her with his fingers for a time, then added a third, fucking her even harder now. Though the brisk movement threw her off balance, he did nothing to prevent that. She struggled to stay in place, a struggle she barely won before he finally stood upright, pulled his hand from her cleft, and unceremoniously thrust a thick anal plug into the space his hand had just vacated. She panted in short pained breaths as he shoved the plug deep and she adjusted to the impalement.

    "Keep it there. It'll keep your ass cheeks spread the way I want them."

    He moved away, then returned seconds later, pushing a small fabric-covered chair in front of her. "You'll never stay on your feet without this. I'd suggest that you put your palms on the seat and hold tight."

    There were no more instructions. Next thing she knew, the cane came crashing down on her bottom cheeks and she let out a pained whelp.

    Then again, the cane whapped her ass – this time striking a little lower.

    Then again and again and again… he continued with a line of cuts from her center cheeks downward to the tender skin of her upper thighs.

    "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooow!!! No, dear god no!" she screamed, when he finally got to that 'sweet' spot. Her full-throated cries went on, although they were drowned out by the noises of the noisy house: the music below, the crackling fire and the rising sounds of playful torment that wound their way through the ductwork of the grand old mansion and lingered in the steamy air.

    Cuts aimed at the center of her cheeks almost forced her to her knees. Pain moved in shockwaves through her body, then expanded further when he finally stopped the caning and rubbed her ass with a nasty-smelling brine.

    "Dear god what are you doing!" she jerked back.

    "Punishing you."

    When he was done, he sat down in his chair and let his eyes feast on the lovely sight of her welted behind. In just a few places the skin had cracked, but they only added to the exhilarating look of her caned flesh.

    Alain would be pleased, Thorsby thought to himself. The man had said to weave some nasty tale for her, enough to make her flinch in fear and behave herself. Enough to put her in her place. He was given permission to punish and use her. But the selling part was Edmund's inspiration, one he figured Alain could refute if he chose to, based on how he wanted his submissive to remember the night she recklessly disobeyed his direct command.

Meredith waited for some time for Thorsby to speak. The silence was deafening. Difficult to endure. All she could think of was Alain's many admonishments that she talk less. Maybe this was one of those times.

    She waited, in pain but hopeful. Any minute her master would appear. Certainly he would appear. But as time ticked off on a nearby clock and the hour struck eleven, he didn't come.

    "Stand up, will you?" Thorsby finally said.

    She stood for him, feeling her entire body creak as she pulled out of the difficult pose. Her ass end ached. Oh, how it ached! But she didn't dare rub it, nor did she dare see the results. Her blatant arousal was enough to bear

    "Come here and satisfy me, girl." He'd already untied his smoking jacket and had begun to loosen his trousers.

    Moving to her knees between the man's parted thighs, she slipped her hand inside his pants, drawing out the hard erection. Her mouth went over the organ, taking in the aroma of his sex, something sour but potent enough to stir her own desire. She worked him in a frantic rhythm while her hand jacked-off the muscled rod. She'd been sexual with her master only a dozen times, but already she felt bound to Alain Danvers, which made giving head to a stranger feel all wrong. Her master had demanded this, hadn't he? Or had she been somehow duped into this slavish service by a cunning scoundrel?

    Meredith could feel Thorsby's arousal climb swiftly. It took just minutes with her mouth sucking and laving the meaty prick until she felt the rush of cum surging through his erection and finally bathing her mouth with copious threads of its sweet fluid.

    He finally pushed her away, handing her a handkerchief to clean her mouth. Then turning, Thorsby rang a bell-pull beside him, just like in the olden days, and a minute later out popped a servile gentleman wearing the clothes of a butler or valet – a costume or his regular attire?

    "Anything you need, Edmund?" he politely addressed his employer.

"Yes, I need her bound, gagged, and closeted for the night."

"In the usual place, sir?"

    "Yes, that will do. I would think we'd be seeing a few friends filter up here in an hour or so. This particular slave needs to be out of sight. In fact, you'll forget
you
saw her here." Thorsby smiled wickedly.

    "Don't I always, sir," the valet replied.

    Meredith didn't have the strength to fight the ropes that bound her hands and feet, or the gag the man thrust into her mouth, or the act of being pushed into a small closet hidden behind the paneled wall not far from the fireplace. The space couldn't have been more than a three by three foot square. Close and claustrophobic, with the exception of the fresh air that was pumped in through the vent.

    The night at Edmund Thorsby's Masquerade would go on without Snow White. She'd hear the noises of the after party that would go on all night in Edmund's private rooms, but otherwise be confined by the ropes, the gag and the small square box of space she'd been consigned to. It almost made her long for the dungeon cell below.

    Alain. Where was Alain? her mind would worry over the question. And why hadn't he come for her.

S
CENE
S
EVENTEEN

Robin Hood worked his Maid Marian around the ballroom several times, leading the stunning submissive by the hand, making certain that every one noticed. He stopped on occasion to kiss and tease her in a way that drew the stares of those around them. But maintaining an aloof detachment, he'd then move on without so much as a nod to the leering crowd. Perry's feeling of power had seemed to rise in him, going beyond its normal boundaries as soon as he walked into the room. This was heaven! For a man who lived secluded by necessity, the teeming party atmosphere was nirvana. He fed on the energy, the excitement, the eyes of those who watched as he and Kat made their way about the ballroom.

    Risky? Of course. But that was the point; an ordinary life simply didn't hold his interest. This was almost as big of a high as his slave's abduction months before. He had little fear that he'd be recognized by this band of perverts; they both were masked, and only a handful would have been old enough to recognize Perry Livingston in the flesh. At the moment, he was quite sure that most of the eyes in the grand ballroom were on his gentle Marian, the maid. Although there might be some attending who were looking for her on this night, he really doubted that anyone would recognize his slave as the missing Kat Bloom.