The Slave (49 page)

“
That’s what I really wanted you for,”
Monica admitted. “I just kept thinking how nice it would be to come
home to someone like you after doing three states in three days.
Eat real food instead of take-out, let someone else handle all the
stuff I had to do all alone, and then slip into bed with someone
who was happy to see me. It was either you, or a nanny and a big
dog.”

There would be no special outfits to wear at
home; in fact, Robin had to buy some new jeans and shirts to wear.
After all, most of Monica’s associates had no idea that anything
like the Marketplace existed.

“
You’re back in the closet about your
slavery,” she joked. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for your
liberation movement.”

It was like being back in college, and
moving in with a new roommate. Except that Monica directed, and
Robin acted. Even though it might have been years since Monica had
owned a slave, she sure wasn’t awkward about it. There were no
gaffes, no moments of indecision. And although Monica offered Robin
choices from time to time, she rarely stopped to ask for an
opinion, or to see if something was all right.

Which suited Robin just fine.

For a few days, they were concerned with
moving in, and Robin learned the layout of the house and where
everything was. Then she set up her new office and spent a day
re-establishing ties and contacts and arranging her files. She
slept in the double bed in the room that was now going to be hers,
feeling vaguely disoriented by the expanse of the mattress and the
excess pillows. But for the first week, Monica did not invite her
to bed or use any form of pleasure or discipline other than a soft
kiss or two and some gentle, encouraging pats.

* * * *

On her seventh evening in her new home,
Robin received the summons she had been waiting for. As she hung up
from one of her West Coast contacts and began to shut her “office”
down for the night, she turned to see Monica leaning into the
doorway.

“
I figure it’s about the right time to
welcome you aboard, kiddo,” she said.

Robin took a quick breath and smiled; her
heart had already started to dance in reaction to the sultry tone
in her mistress’s voice.

“
So strip down and get your butt over
to my room. I think it’s been too long since you got it
warmed.”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Robin answered
automatically, her fingers already starting to undo the buttons on
her blouse.

“
Tsk, tsk,” Monica shook her head.
“Forgetful, huh? That’s one punishment I have to deal with
first.”

Robin blushed, but kept undressing
furiously. “Yes, Monica,” she agreed.

There were no special punishment places in
Monica’s house. Robin hurried to the largest bedroom, and gasped
with delight, because Monica had lit candles on her shelves and
window sills and in her corners, casting wavering, subtle lights
and shadows over the room. The bedcovers had been pulled off and
piled to one side, and leather cuffs were already on the bed, along
with a riding crop and two whips. Robin put the cuffs on when
Monica pointed to them, and eagerly got into position on her belly,
spreading her arms and legs wide for Monica to fasten them
down.

“
First the punishment,” Monica
whispered, trailing a soft bundle of leather tresses over Robin’s
back, “and then the welcome.”

Quickly, she switched the whip for the crop
and delivered twenty-four fast and stinging blows to Robin’s ass.
Robin squirmed just a little, feeling the tapping blows like little
splatters of annoying pain, covering her rounded cheeks in a
pattern that followed the outer curves of the flesh and made it
grow hot and tender. And when it was over, she sighed and said,
“Thank you, Monica.” Instantly, Monica’s cool hand was brushing
over the hot points.

“
So well behaved,” the older woman
replied lightly. “So good. Let’s do something nice now.” And the
first fall of the soft whip caught Robin right at the underside of
her butt, thumping lightly between her legs. So did the second and
third. Each fall made Robin moan with pleasure and more gratitude,
and as Monica stepped up the impact of each blow, it only served to
make Robin begin to breathe heavily and tense and relax in her
bonds.

But every time Robin began to whimper in
pleasure, Monica would switch off, either changing her aim to cover
Robin’s shoulders or thighs or upper back, or she would change her
tempo and strength, brushing her lightly with the entire whip, or
stinging her quickly with just the tips.

Soon, Robin’s body began to warm, with pink
areas springing up wherever the whip kissed her. And still Monica
continued sensuously, until it seemed that Robin began to pant with
every third blow. Then, Monica switched to the longer and more
punishing whip, and began to lay into her new slave, making pink
spots red, and painting broad lines of color and long lines of
heat, working steadily up and down Robin’s body.

Robin hadn’t been beaten like this in
months; her owners never used lover’s techniques like this, and few
of the guests bothered to put so much time into making her feel
things. And as Monica began to pause and stroke her between sets of
particularly hard strokes, Robin couldn’t help but groan and push
her heated flesh back against Monica’s hands and fingertips. That
only made Monica laugh and back away, and begin to strike her
again.

Turning her over was quickly done, and
Monica used the crop to tease her, trailing it over her breasts and
tapping it against her nipples, and then passing it along her body
to tap it harder over her pubic mound. After a few minutes of that,
which left Robin stretching and arching and making little mewing
sounds, Monica picked up the softer of the two whips and began
again, bringing color and sensation first to Robin’s breasts, and
then across her belly, and then over the fronts and insides of her
thighs.

Robin fell into a vortex of sensations;
every minute, a new pleasure was added, every shift of her body
caused new and wonderful spasms of warmth and minor pain. She cried
out like she hadn’t in ages, and licked her lips and bit at them in
a pointless effort to remain still and quiet. But unlike Eric and
Jimmy, Monica delighted in every new whine and whimper and rewarded
them with harder shots and more searching touches. Before long,
Robin felt like she was one long mass of awakened nerves, ready to
pull against her bonds at the slightest touch, her flesh red with
impact marks and the flush of her own excitement.

When Monica laid the whip down and drew one
finger along the edges of Robin’s cunt lips, Robin came without
warning.

It was so lightning fast that Robin couldn’t
even draw a deep enough breath to sustain it, let alone warn Monica
or ask her for permission. Robin’s hips rose up, and thrust against
Monica’s hand, and that one pressing finger, and Monica laughed and
drew away.

“
Bad girl,” she said softly, picking
up the riding crop again. “I wanted that one.”

“
I’m sorry, Monica,” Robin managed to
say, her throat catching on every word.

“
Too bad―now you’re going to have to wait
longer before the surprise.”

Robin didn’t bother to ask what the
surprise was; besides, she was distracted by the stinging smack of
the crop’s flapper against the sensitive flesh that had just
throbbed with such delightful intensity. Robin moaned and then
yelped as Monica delivered a rain of slaps all over her cunt, and
then down the insides of her thighs. The puffy flesh of Robin’s
cunt lips grew red and angry quickly, until Monica’s fingers could
wrest a strangled whimper out of Robin with just a light sliding
touch.

And then Monica left her there for a few
minutes, staring at the ceiling and feeling the waves of pounding
heat from the beating. Robin’s back felt wonderful, warm and aching
and good against the softness of the bed. And her pussy, spread
wide and dripping wet, also ached, in so many different ways that
it was hard to tell which was the most insistent.

When Monica came back, she pulled a box from
under the bed. Robin couldn’t see what it was, but could hear the
scraping of it against the floor and the snapping of latches being
opened. Then, Monica re-appeared, rising to fix a pair of
screw-type nipple clamps on Robin’s very erect nipples.

“
I can’t wait for the surprise,”
Monica said, tightening the clamps until Robin winced. “So consider
these the rest of your punishment for coming without
permission.”

“
Yes, Monica,” Robin whispered back.
She winced as the clamps bit into her flesh, but watched Monica
eagerly for evidence of the surprise. Monica stepped back and
picked something up from the floor. It looked like a flat pad,
attached to a long slender chain. At Robin’s inquisitive stare, she
carefully pushed it down the front of her jeans, leaving a trail of
silvery chain coming out at her waistband. Then, Monica leaned down
and turned something on. It sounded like a light hum.

“
I got this little toy thinking about
you,” Monica said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I can’t wait to
see how you like it.”

And slowly, making sure that no other part
of her body touched Robin’s, she extended one hand and touched
Robin on the lips.

And Robin jerked at the touch of an
electrical shock! It wasn’t painful, and her eyes widened as Monica
laughed. Robin pursed her lips, and Monica obliged by passing her
fingertips over them. This time, they stayed longer, and the
buzzing was hot and tingly and made all of Robin’s body shiver.
Monica trailed her fingers down Robin’s body, and everywhere they
touched, a little static electricity followed, dancing and jumping
along Robin’s skin.

She played like that for a while, testing
Robin’s tolerance and reactions, holding her hands closer and then
farther away, curling her fingers at the base of Robin’s breasts
and then across her stomach. “Isn’t that nice?” she asked
teasingly. “The minute I felt this, I knew I had to use it on you.
It’s as much fun as I thought it would be.” She giggled and tapped
her fingers lightly on the tops of Robin’s thighs.

Robin didn’t know whether to jump around,
tense, moan, or giggle. The sensations changed rapidly from buzzing
to a stabbing, needling annoyance. And when Monica touched her
clamped nipple tips, Robin couldn’t help but yelp, loud, and then
moan as Monica trailed the sore tips with her tongue. For one
second, Robin thought that she was feeling the after-shocks of the
electrical toy, but then she realized that Monica’s tongue was
acting as a transmitter as well. It was almost overwhelming. And
when Monica got up onto the bed and positioned her face over
Robin’s spread legs, Robin began to whimper.

The touch of that electrified tongue on her
swollen lips was incredible! Using just the tip, Monica worked a
series of light shocks all along Robin’s soft wetness, pushing the
flesh and gently poking at it, spreading her wider and opening her
to more pinching and stabbing darts of static electricity. When she
raised her head and looked at Robin’s flushed face and tense body,
she laughed.

“
You can come if you want to,” she
said before getting back to her amusement. And at the third or
fourth strong touch of Monica’s tongue on her engorged clit, Robin
did, and her own convulsions of pleasure lasted so long that she
could barely tell when Monica turned off the machine and touched
her with hands and lips that held only the heat of their
owner.

Robin did know that when Monica shucked her
jeans and turned around on the bed, lowering her own wetness to
Robin’s mouth, she was delirious with pleasure. It was hard to
remember that she was bound to the bed; all she wanted to do was
clasp Monica’s thighs to her, pull on her ass cheeks and press her
face up into that fragrant delta, drowning herself in the feminine
moisture that was proof of Monica’s arousal. But she was stretched
out, held immobile, and Monica teased her for a good long time
before letting Robin’s searching, hungry mouth settle and work.

When Monica had her fill of that, she turned
around again, and settled down on her side, next to Robin’s body.
They were both panting, both flushed, and both smiling between deep
breaths.

“
And you know I’m not finished with
you,” Monica said, unhooking Robin’s legs. “Bring them up, open
yourself wide. I want to see what you can take.”

Robin eagerly brought her knees up, and
leaned back against her shoulders as Monica began to work her
fingers into Robin’s cleft. Robin was so wet she was almost
dripping, and Monica slid four fingers in comfortably. In fact,
Robin arched her back and spread herself wider, feeling that
incredible fullness, and the delightful pressure that made her want
to shake and moan and swallow Monica’s hand. This time, there was
no sharp pain. This time, she felt like she was a warm nest,
engulfing Monica like a living thing, taking all she had to offer.
Monica had a bottle of lubricant over by the side of the bed, but
with one answering thrust up and then forward, Robin took Monica’s
thumb into her body and Monica’s hand formed gently into a
fist.

“
Oh yeah, that’s my baby,” Monica
crooned. “That’s my sweetie. That’s it, eat me up, sugar. You’re
all mine now.”

Robin trembled with passion and tension, and
moaned at the sensation. It felt so good, and so terrible, and so
amazing! She could look down her body and see Monica’s arm making
small, tight movements that all became heavy, shifting pressures
inside her body. Every shift of position was as powerful as any
thrust, and even the slight turning of Monica’s hand was a wave of
pressure that made Robin’s entire body shiver.