She stared at him with determination, her mouth almost closed while her fingers slip-slided between her nether lips, seeking to do his bidding.
Moving behind her, Sir unfastened her bra, and pushed the straps down her arms much like he’d done with her dress at the club last weekend. Her nipples were erect and thick before the air hit them, but became harder when he came to the front. She could feel his heated gaze devouring her while his fingertips plucked at her. When she came, her body tightened under his hands, and then relaxed, never once jeopardizing her form.
“Such a good girl, Catherine. You may swallow or spit.”
~~~Chapter 8~~~
The Morning After
Catherine looked up from the cutting board where she was preparing a fruit salad to accompany the whole-wheat pancakes she was cooking for breakfast. According to the clock, she had ten minutes left.
The night before her outfit had been forgotten on the front porch, and she’d been led into his home in nothing but her high heels. In her naked glory, she had followed Sir around while he gave her a tour of the house still dressed in his tailored suit.
While they walked, Catherine had endured with fervor Sir’s glancing touches, pinches, and light-handed smacks to her breasts and backside. His actions had made it difficult to concentrate on his voice while he relayed the schedule he expected of her when she was there. However, the challenge of the task didn’t last beyond her catching on that Sir was testing her ability to focus. After that, she didn’t miss a single word.
Catherine had been hopeful when they entered the exquisite playroom but understood – even appreciated – his thoughtfulness of wanting her to have a chance to familiarize herself with the room before handing over total control of her body to him.
Sir had taken a seat in the corner and encouraged her to explore the space and all it contained.
The floor was comprised of thick, dark planks of worn, but polished, wood which her shoes echoed on while she walked.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
Two of the walls were painted a rich mahogany, a third was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors, and the final wall had a utilitarian purpose: housing impact toys, a myriad of ropes coiled with meticulous care in all manner of color, material, and thicknesses, silk ties, and spreader bars.
There were even lengths of chain. It was a buffet to her visual senses when her mind took over and began imagining experiencing them all – except for the canes. That was when she noticed the blank spot on the wall.
Sir had removed his canes from sight.
For her.
She turned to face him and found him watching her with a bemused grin. “Thank you, Sir,” she said in a soft whisper.
He nodded, and then waved her forward with a curl of his fingers. The movement was performed with a sensuousness that she could feel inside her soul, causing her breath to escape in a rush.
“In due time, Catherine. I hope to show you they are nothing to fear when handled with respect,” Jayden said with resolve firming his tone.
For the first time, she believed that might be possible. “This girl is willing to try for you, Sir.” She had reached the side of his chair and his fingers were caressing her outer thigh.
“That’s all I can ask,” he replied, his lips now brushing the smooth flesh of her inner thigh. His nose pressed against her dampening curls and he asked, “Most submissives wax; why do you not?”
She tensed. “This girl is ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“The scars,” she answered with her voice flat.
“Well,” his tongue flicked out and lapped at her, “I tend to prefer a smooth pussy, and as stipulated in the rules, this was a subject up for discussion. I’ll allow you to start with shaving if you’d like. You
have one month to complete the task, or I will wax you myself.”
Catherine’s eyes blurred while the shame washed over her. Spencer had disfigured her and once Sir saw that he’d send her away — she just knew.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Catherine, you do realize that as our time together moves forward, I’ll get to know every part of your body with utmost intimacy don’t you?”
She nodded once. “Yes, Sir.”
At her defeated reply, Sir’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.
“I am not so shallow as to enter into this sort of agreement based on physical attributes alone, my jewel.” His teeth nipped at her curls and tugged at them. “Do not be afraid to bare yourself before me,” he added right before his tongue sought out the cleft of her lips and lapped at the gathering moisture.
He pulled back and fixed his gaze on her, and she met it when he used a gentle hand to lift her chin. Silently, Catherine acknowledged that she knew Sir wasn’t talking about just her body. Satisfied by her determined gaze, he returned his tongue to its previous task, and brought her to a blubbering orgasm minutes later with his skill.
Sir stood and gathered Catherine’s weak-legged form into his arms and carried her to the en suite. He was careful to keep her steady while placing her on her feet prior to reaching into the shower stall and starting the water. When it had warmed, he held her hand so she didn’t slip while she stepped in.
Catherine soaked in the heat while Sir gave her instructions to wash and indicated he would join her soon.
About ten minutes later he kept his word. She caught a glimpse of blue, white, and green on the counter when he opened the door, but was soon distracted by the vision of his naked body. Knowing she shouldn’t stare, her eyes fluttered closed and she tipped her conditioner laden hair back under the water to rinse it.
He stepped in close, pressing his body into Catherine, and she felt his hands thread into her hair as he took over the rinsing. While Sir massaged her scalp, she rewarded him with a soft hum of contentment.
“Does my jewel like that?” he asked in a calm tone, and Catherine succumbed to an inner smile.
She hadn’t asked him why he continued to call her that, but she liked it. It made her feel precious and prized – like a jewel.
“Aye, Sir.”
“There’s my girl,” Sir praised her with a grin. “Have you soaped yet?”
She gave her head a small shake and whispered, “No, Sir.”
Watching him perform a task as simple as reaching for the loofah and body wash to care for her sent a tremor of peace through her, even as the scent of the soap enveloped and calmed her. It was a vanilla-scented concoction from Bath and Body Works.
“Mm, smells good, Sir,” Catherine babbled and Sir snickered.
“I don’t like this half as much as whatever you’re using at home. It’s not nearly as delicious.” He gave her shoulder a playful nip. “Before you go home Sunday, I want to know what you use so that I can have this and your bathroom upstairs supplied with it.”
Catherine continued to hum and bask in the attention of his gentle scrubbing.
“Spread,” Sir directed when he reached Catherine’s legs. He washed the area, and moved down her legs before he had her turn and bend forward so he could make sure she received a thorough cleansing from behind as well. While Sir washed her, she knew he was inspecting her skin the best he could.
She kept herself trimmed, just not bare, but Catherine was sure he could detect the occasional pucker of pink skin beneath the wiry, ginger curls.
He let out a low hiss when he found a couple of the circular scars near her rectum – cigarette sized, and it was all Catherine could do not to cringe.
It hadn’t been consensual.
She had not enjoyed it.
However, it had been beyond her control at the time.
Catherine shuddered at the memory while Sir rinsed the suds from her body, placing tender kisses over the damaged skin as it was revealed. Daring to look down at him, she didn’t stop her hand from cupping his cheek when she discovered he was crying.
Was it for the suffering she had experienced? Could he care that much?
When Sir’s gaze traveled up Catherine’s body while he rested back on his haunches, she met it with gratitude for his kindness – rules be damned. A spanking was worth sharing this moment with him.
“Do you trust me?”
Catherine nodded, and Sir reached around her to retrieve the body wash. She watched while he squirted a dollop of the soap into his hand, and lathered it up before spreading it in an even coat over her mound.
He picked up the razor. “Is this okay?”
Her eyes darted from his eyes to the blade and back before she nodded.
To give him room to work, she assumed, Sir guided her foot up onto the edge of the tub. “Catherine, I want you to play with your nipples while I do this. Make them the center of your world right now.” He gave her a minute or two to get lost in the sensation she was giving herself, then he shaved her smooth, rinsed her, and kissed every scar.
“We need to talk,” Sir declared when he stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ve laid out clothes on the counter for you. Put your hair up in a towel, bring the hair brush, and meet me back in the playroom.”
Catherine trembled with the emotions that coursed through her.
Could he get any more perfect?
She wondered with mild amusement. Once her body had dried, she hung the towel up, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. When she ran her fingers over her smooth mound, stopping to finger a raised circle, it seemed to her the marks were less noticeable than she remembered, even under the bright light.
Moments later she’d slipped into the plain, white, cotton thong and bra that reminded her of the time her Da had taken her to buy her first bra. It had been a horrible embarrassment for both of them, but seeing that her mother had died in childbirth, neither of them had much option. She felt a slight pang of sorrow tug at her. She missed her Da.
The sound of Sir’s throat clearing coming from the playroom reminded her she was taking longer than she should so she set her mind straight and slipped into the pretty blue and green tartan plaid skirt. She grabbed the brush and hurried out to stand next to him.
Sir was once again in the corner chair, but naked this time. Since her eyes were downcast, she was able to see his thick length resting against his thigh. It twitched while he looked her over.
“Come. Kneel before me facing the mirrors.”
She got into position, and her head jerked back when he tugged the towel free. She could see her reflection; see the flush on her chest suggesting the blooming of her arousal. His next move surprised her.
Sir started to brush her hair.
That was it. There was just the steady whisper of the brush while he pulled it through Catherine’s hair in rhythmic strokes that both soothed and relaxed her. His voice was hypnotic and coaxing when it came at the same time that he parted her hair down the middle into two sections.
“You have my permission to speak. I’m going to ask some questions, and I want you to answer without thinking too much on your responses. Just give me your natural reaction. Okay?”
“Aye, Sir.”
“What is your full name?”
“Catherine Eilene O’Chancey.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“California.”
“Any siblings?”
“No, Sir. Just this girl and her father.”
This gave Sir pause. “Mother?”
“She died giving birth to this girl.” He gathered the first section of her hair and started a tight braid, and the minute tug against her scalp kept her panic at bay.
“How long were you with Spencer?”
She blinked, and Sir tightened his hold on her hair, waiting to release it when her eyes opened again.
“Two years,” she choked out.
“Were you collared?”
She nodded, unable to form words as the panic began to bubble.
“Did he allow safe words?”
She swallowed then answered with a weak, “At first.”
Sir’s fingers finished the first braid, and he fixed the end with an elastic band. Giving her time to settle, he traced patterns over her shoulders and upper back before picking the brush up and starting the process on the other section of her hair.
“How did the contract end?” he hedged.
She hoped he wasn't going to ask too many more questions because she didn't know how many more she could handle answering.
“This girl told you, Sir. He’s dead.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, and she flinched out of habit while whimpering, “Sorry.”
“Over my lap, Catherine.”
Showing Sir that she remembered his preferences, Catherine took her place over his lap like she’d been taught at the club. The skirt was flipped up onto her back seconds before his palm connected with her ass.
“Get mad at him and let it out,” he stated, and his hand connected again.
She resisted. If she told it would bring him back somehow – Spencer would get power over her again.
“Catherine, release it.”
The sting was sharper, and the smack louder. He’d moved to using the brush. Her nipples drew up taut in the soft bra, electricity zinging through her while her body came to life under Sir’s tool.