Sarah took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and tried to settle herself again. She felt Phillip rest his warm hand on her ass for a moment before letting the paddle fall with a loud and hard slap on her ass.
Gasping, Sarah’s body jumped, again held tight by the straps over her back and arms and legs. Seeming to take pity on her, Phillip now set up a steady tattoo—two short slaps on the right, two on the left, followed by a hard one right and left. Two right, two left, slap right, slap left.
Over and over he repeated the pattern and Sarah tried to squirm away, moaning in agony as her skin turned supersensitive. Her ass burned where the paddle repeatedly landed. Right, right, left, left, slap, slap.
“Oh, Sir! Please let me come!”
Phillip did not let up. “What was that, slave? You need to speak up.”
“Please! Oh, please let me come, Sir!”
The tempo increased and Sarah’s moans became cries. “Please, Sir! Oh, my glory, let me come!”
“Come for me now, slave. Sing to me!”
Sarah bucked against the straps, her hair falling unheeded as her head snapped back and her body convulsed. Stabs of pain accompanied each slap of the paddle now, stabs that gathered in her pussy to explode with a gush and a scream. She gasped for breath as warmth surged from her pussy outward, filling even her fingertips with pulsing heat.
When her breathing quieted and she could no longer hear her heartbeat in her ears, Sarah wondered when he had stopped spanking her. She’d never felt him stop. Her ass burned but Phillip’s touch was absent.
* * * * *
Sweat poured down his brow and he wiped it away with impatience. His cock, hard as stone, pressed against his jeans, demanding attention. Tossing the paddle onto the soft cover of the “tool table”, as he thought of it, he watched Sarah’s body writhe and convulse in her bindings. He didn’t move until her cries turned to whimpers, then he unzipped his pants and kicked them off and into the corner, pulling off the T-shirt and throwing that into the pile as well. Usually fastidious, tonight’s activities had awakened the latent tiger that slept inside him. Already it pawed at the door of its cage, wanting out.
Stalking around her helpless body, the tiger inside Phillip watched as Sarah’s body slowed, her breathing still coming in great gasps as she started to relax in the straps with which he had bound her, on the bench he had crafted with his own hands as a present for her. So open, so vulnerable, so trusting.
Phillip grabbed a handful of her tender ass and squeezed, gratified by the squeal it produced. He’d watched her cream over and over again as he played with her body and knew the time for tenderness was long past. With his free hand, he slid his fingers along his cock, feeling the rough bumps of the blood vessels turning his cock into a rigid shaft that ached to plunge into her ready pussy.
He mauled her ass and watched her come again, her mind slowly leaving her as he unlocked the cages that held both their wild sides. She pressed against the straps, trying to push herself back on him, his cock teasing her vulnerable entrance. Slippery with her hunger, he relished the heat that poured from her pussy.
With one hand he positioned himself, with the other, he reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head up and forcing her back as he growled and plunged deep inside her inviting warmth. Her muscles protested at first but he persisted, forcing her to open more with each thrust.
“Come for me again, my little slave girl.”
His voice, colored with his desire, pitched deep and gravelly as he took what belonged to him. Relentless, he hammered into her pussy, his balls slapping against her clit each time he buried himself. And when her body let go, the muscles contracting around his cock, the tiger burst from its cage and he rutted with her like the animal he was. Pressure exploded. Relief flooded through him. Warmth spread over and through every inch of his body, until at last he rested his body on top of hers as he gasped for air.
Her body warmed his and they breathed as one as passion ebbed. He luxuriated in the wonderful glow that surrounded them until his spent cock slipped from her warmth, the colder air bringing him back to earth.
Her hair had fallen in her face again. He’d have to remember to tie it back the next time. Gently he brushed it back, gratified when she gave him a weary smile. With tired fingers, he undid the straps that held her to the spanking bench and helped her to stand. She faced him, leaning against his chest in the romantic candlelight and Phillip gathered her into his arms, still a little amazed she had come into his life. And when she looked up at him and whispered, “Thank you,” he scooped her up and took her to bed, sending his own prayer of gratitude to the power responsible for her presence.
Chapter One
Reservations
“I know, Beth. I know it seems fast but you met him. He’s wonderful.”
Sarah Parker cradled the phone on her shoulder while she packed her old dishes into a sturdy cardboard box. In just under three weeks, she would become Mrs. Phillip Townsend. They had timed the ceremony to coincide with the end of her lease when she would leave this apartment, move into Phillip’s cottage in the woods and became Phillip’s wife and full-time sexual slave. The thought gave her a shiver all down her back and an excited tightness in her stomach. She could barely keep the giddiness out of her voice as she discussed the wedding arrangements with her best friend.
“Yes, we’re going to have a civil ceremony. Please don’t tell me you’re backing out. I really want you to stand up for me.” Sarah layered her old ceramic plates between cheap paper plates and listened with only half an ear to her friend’s concerns. “Well, you’re the one who told me to stop moping about Tom’s death and to start dating.”
Tom had been Sarah’s first husband, the handsome daredevil who blew up bombs for a living and who had been killed when a drunk swerved into his lane, hitting him head-on. With her husband’s five years of experience in the military bomb squad, the irony of his death had threatened to turn her bitter that first year without him.
Time was the best healer, however, and Sarah had moved on, taking this small apartment as the first of many steps toward finding a new future for herself. Who could have imagined that future would involve whips and chains? She giggled into the phone and covered her lapse with a cough.
“What was that?”
“Sorry, Beth…I’m packing while I’m talking…got some dust in my throat.”
For good measure, Sarah faked a few more coughs. Although they’d known each other for decades, Beth would never understand Sarah’s discovery that bondage was not only fun…but intoxicating.
“Tell me the date again, Sarah? I have my master calendar here.”
“Three weeks from Friday at city hall, second floor. I’ll talk to you before then, Beth, so I’ll remind you. And please don’t change your mind!”
“Fat chance. Although I still think you’re rushing things. We need to talk, girl.”
“All right. Meet me for dinner at Attie’s? You can talk my ear off there.”
“Can’t be there ‘til seven, though. That too late for you?”
“Seven o’clock sounds good. See you then.”
Sarah hung up the phone and stared at the mess she’d made of her kitchen, a silly grin plastered on her face. That grin had become a permanent fixture since Phillip Townsend had asked her to marry him a week and a half ago. Hefting a large serving bowl, she remembered how she and Tom had shopped for this particular pattern. Now she packed her past with every wrap of newspaper.
After Tom’s death, Sarah had dated idly, mostly men Beth fixed her up with, just drifting along, not really having a direction or sure what she wanted out of a relationship or, for that matter, out of life. Certainly, sexual passion had never been important to her and it wasn’t anything she had ever expected to experience.
But then her hand had reached for an orange in the supermarket at the same moment Phillip touched it. While she had never been one to believe much in that spark of electricity the pulp romances always wrote about, she couldn’t deny the instant attraction she had felt for the tall, dark and Hollywood-handsome man with the devilish grin.
She had agreed to meet him for coffee, which turned into a date, which led to…more. When one romantic, moonlit night Phillip had asked her back to his place in the woods, she had gone, figuring it was high time she was a naughty girl.
Sarah pulled a drinking glass from the shelf, absently wrapping it in newspaper as her mind turned over her new life.
That moonlit night, Phillip had opened an entirely new world to her, a world of bondage and sex where she had no control. He commanded her and only asked that she be willing to let him take her where he led. She had followed with a great deal of nervousness…and an arousal stronger than she had ever felt before.
Thus began a journey of discovery that had led her down paths she never knew existed in life. What began as just a sexual exploration of Dominance and submission with a strong dose of bondage had evolved into a stronger relationship over a month’s time as Sarah accepted Phillip as her Master and called herself his slave.
In the privacy of her kitchen, Sarah’s hand slipped to her crotch, rubbing her clit through her jeans as the words “Master” and “slave” echoed in her mind. She couldn’t deny the incredible sense of wholeness that washed over her the moment Phillip clicked the lock onto her cuffs and collar. Especially the collar. When she wore the wide leather band with the four D rings, one at each compass point of her body, she felt like she had finally found home.
As Sarah stood in her kitchen, thinking about Phillip and the magnificent way he stood over her naked body at times, her panties dampened. She rubbed a bit harder, envisioning the wonderful ideas Phillip had given her to mull over as he slowly trained her mind to accept his dominance. She would never be able to explain to Beth that this wasn’t brainwashing, that Sarah was fully cognizant of her actions. Rather, Phillip was helping her to “unlearn” all the behaviors she had used to build walls around the passionate wanton who lurked deep inside her. The woman Sarah still kept caged because of shame. From her mother’s knee, in every magazine ad, in every Hollywood movie, Sarah had been taught that girls who expressed sexual passion were nothing more than Jezebels headed for trouble and Sarah had swallowed that story hook, line and sinker. She had squashed her feelings of discontent, her yearning for more excitement in the bedroom, constantly repeating the mantra drilled into her…
good girls don
’
t
.
But Phillip’s teaching was slowly pulling down walls and unlocking the wanton’s cage.
Sarah closed her eyes and unzipped her jeans, sliding her hand inside and rubbing her clit harder and harder as her thoughts of Phillip’s acceptance brought her closer to an orgasm right there in her kitchen. Two years ago, the thought of coming at her own hand anywhere but the bedroom would never even have occurred to her. Now, she rubbed eagerly, her clit engorging with desire as her mind turned over her relationship with Phillip.
Every once in a while, the titles of Master and slave still pulled on her sensibilities, yet she found the concepts too intriguing to ignore. At the moment, she held the position only on the weekends. After the wedding, she would move to his cottage in the woods and become a full-time, twenty-four/seven, total sexual slave.
Her pussy spasmed at the realization and Sarah gasped, grabbing on to the counter for support as her muscles contracted. A tiny whimper forced itself out of her throat as small waves of pleasure coursed through her. For a half minute of bliss, she kept only one picture in her head—her kneeling before Phillip’s commanding presence, totally naked and with head bowed, submitting her body and mind to his will. Riding the waves, she enjoyed her orgasm as tingles spread all along her arms and down into her toes. Savoring the moment, she milked every last spasm.
And when she was done, Sarah opened her eyes, washed her hands, dried them, picked up another drinking glass and methodically wrapped it in newspaper, while her thoughts turned over the new life she would soon be leading.
* * * * *
“I like Phillip, I really do,” Beth was saying around her barbequed ribs. “It’s just not like you to be impulsive.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m not being impulsive, Beth. I’ve thought this through. Really.”
“Where are you going to live?”
“He has a small cottage just outside the city. About an hour away.”
“So you’re gonna commute an hour each way to work? Sarah! Think of the gas that’s gonna eat up!”
She had raised the same point with Phillip. Driving out and back once a week was a far cry from doing it every weekday. The two had discussed her options and Sarah had decided a monthly plan from the local transit authority would work out well. She tried to explain that to Beth.
“There’s a bus that comes in from the mall out that way. I drive fifteen minutes to the mall, park my car and take the bus in. From the bus stop in the city, it’s another ten-minute walk to work.”
Shaking her half-eaten rib at Sarah, Beth objected. “Yeah, that’ll be fine in the summer. But winter’s coming. You’re gonna freeze!”
With a laugh, Sarah feigned fear. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”
Beth grinned and tore a hunk of meat off with her teeth, snarling like a barbarian. “I’ll rip Phillip to shreds just like this if he doesn’t behave himself!”