Jeane sat still, listening to her own breath rise and fall. She tugged idly at the ropes that encircled her wrists and held them in place behind her back. It was more habit than anything else. It was dim here, all the lights out in the medium sized room except for the small lamp on the corner table. She breathed deeper, and could almost smell the hemp of the ropes. The carpet was soft underfoot, but now it ground into her knees and felt scratchy under her legs.
Her toes were only just beginning to tingle from sitting here so long… How long had it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? Surely not more than that. She knew from experience that it always felt longer than it actually was.
She had been under William’s hand for almost four years now. It was as close a thing to a permanent relationship as she had ever had. They went to dinner together often, and met here, in his home, at least twice a week for sessions and usually some sexual play after they had both had some breathing time. Sometimes, she even slept here, curled on his bed, the sound of his breath lulling her to sleep.
William had many girls. Most of them knew only William. None of William’s girls ever spoke openly of him outside this house. To do so would have been disaster for his career. William was very intelligent, and was a professor at the nearby university.
He taught several courses in various forms of psychology and ethics. Jeane had laughed at that the first time he told her. She had even met a couple of his other girls, recognizing William’s pin on their clothes. The tiny red and black pin with it’s intricate scrollwork was easy to miss, and easier to mistake for something simpler.
The other girls, after eyeing the pin Jeane wore suspiciously, had both smiled and blushed slightly, before indulging in a brief conversation with Jeane. In hushed voices, they talked of his skill and watchful eye, and both of them had admitted that all the other girls knew who Jeane was (by name only) and were jealous of the kind of “extremely personal” attention William seemed to give only to her.
William remained one of the most talked about, sought after and also one of the most choosy Masters on this side of the country. To be one of William’s girls was considered an honor. Jeane often wondered why he chose to accept her. She was always testing him. She obeyed, but she still had her wild streak, and her pain tolerance wasn’t as high as half of the other girls he could have chosen.
Lost in her thought, Jeane frowned in distress at how William would react to her this time. She had been tired this week, and though William had only given her a few small tasks to complete, she had directly avoided completing them. She had never done this before. Usually she was at least compliant, if not obedient. And she knew he would ask if she had completed her tasks.
She had never kept anything from William before. His own code of ethics was very simple, but also very direct. And he absolutely abhorred lying in any form. It was one of the first rules stressed to his girls, and unlike most of the other rules he set forth, he did not list a definite punishment for it. That in and of itself unnerved Jeane.
She turned her head at the noise in the hallway. The heavy footfalls and almost imperceptible click of boots identified her master, and she turned her head back to face forward. She straightened, her eyes on the floor as the doorknob turned. He approached silently, and set the small silver tray on the side table, near the lamp.
“I’ve brought water. You’ll be needing it.” William walked purposefully to her, and stopped. Her eyes lingered on the soft leather of his black boots, and he saw the tiny upward movement of her blonde head as her gaze threatened to move up his khaki pants. She willed herself to keep her eyes downcast.
He smiled. “Good girl, Jeane. Have you been in place the whole time?” he questioned offhandedly, beginning a slow circle around the kneeling girl.
Jeane burned inside even as she beamed and said confidently, “Yes, Master.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to punish you for disobedience before we’ve even begun.” He completed his circuit of her body and stopped in front of her again. She glanced upward, taking in the look of him. A blue silk shirt flowed over broad shoulders, his shoulder-length black hair neatly pulled back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. She let her eyes travel downward, settling on the crop, held firmly in his hand, tapping softly at the side of his leg.
“Have you been a good girl, Jeane?” The question was all encompassing. He meant, had she done the things he’d asked, had she refrained from the things he forbade, and was there anything she needed to confess? William had long since moved into the stage of trusting her to reveal her disobediences to him, and accept the consequences. He walked slowly toward the table, watching her, and set the crop on the table. His hands were strong and sure as he poured himself a drink.
Jeane thought about her answer. She knew punishment would come when he found out she hadn’t… but what if he didn’t find out? She was waging war with herself in her head as she opened her mouth to speak. “I have tried, Master.”
“Have you done the things I told you?” he asked, turning back towards her.
“I, um… I have tried, master.” Jeane blushed even as she spoke the words. They had slid off her tongue so easily, but now her body was betraying her. She knew she wasn’t good. And she hadn’t tried. She certainly hadn’t done the things he’d asked. She hadn’t even thought about it. Her eyes looked down again, an even clearer indication that she hadn’t. Her skin crawled under his gaze.
He had watched the blush creep over her skin, and heard the slight tremble as she had answered. His brow furrowed. He set down the glass with a sharp ‘clink’ and strode to stand in front of her again. He leaned slowly down, bringing his face to her level, and tipped her chin up. “Have you?” he asked, prompting a more truthful response from the girl who knelt in the center of the room.
She looked into his face, its expression dark, and foolishly replied, “Yes.”
“You’re lying to me.” It was a statement of fact. The questioning tilt to her one-word reply had spoken volumes, even if he hadn’t noticed her blush and her movement, which he had. William watched as she closed her eyes for a moment. He watched as she looked away. She blushed even deeper, being caught in her own shameful betrayal of his trust.
He took her chin in his hand and turned her face to meet his once more. “Don’t look away when I look at you.” His voice was calm, cool, but his eyes burned with fire. He looked at her in stillness for a long moment.
William straightened, turning his back to her. “I warned you never to lie to me,” he said, walking in a slow pace back and forth. “Disobedience is unacceptable, and worthy of punishment in and of itself…” He turned quickly to look her dead in the eye again, his voice lower and more sharp. “But lying is deplorable. It is base, and low. You are MY girl, and you will NOT stoop to such depths.”
He walked to the wall, and stood leaning against it. He eyed her, his body still and calm. He watched her, his eyes boring into her. He pushed off the wall with a fluid motion, his eyes never straying from hers as he took agonizingly slow steps toward her. “It’s a sign of cowardice. You were afraid. You didn’t think you could bear your punishment, am I correct?”
Jeane nodded, and at his quirked eyebrow hastily added the spoken reply. “Yes, Master.” Her eyes followed his movements as he walked across the room to open the black trunk. She watched him draw out a longer length of rope, dropping it to the floor. He reached back inside, lifting out the leather ankle restraints, more rope, and other things she couldn’t see. Her mind began to swirl and her thoughts raced in circles.
William turned once more to her, and leaned in very close. His expression had softened, and his touch at her cheek was gentle. “Well, then, we will have to rid you of your cowardice. We will have to teach you to be brave.” Her eyes didn’t register his words. He frowned, realizing that she was lost in her own thought. “And we will teach you,” he said standing back upright, and lifting his hand, “not to lie!” Slap! His hand connected with her cheek and echoed in the room.
Her cheek stung, but she remained where she was. He hadn’t slapped her very hard; just enough to make sure he had her full attention. Jeane was fully shamed. He watched her sit silently for only a moment then grasped her upper arms. “Stand,” he said shortly, and helped her to her feet.
She pulled her legs underneath her, steadying herself. He stayed beside her until she had her balance. “Please, Master” she began. “I.. I.. I didn’t think.. I was only..”
“Hush!” he said sharply. “That is disgraceful, Jeane. To disobey, lie, and then try to talk your way out or your punishment? Come now, do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I will just fold under your smooth tongue and let you slide by?” He turned to the trunk and began rummaging again. “No, Jeane, I’m not one of the nitwits you work with. You can’t talk me out of anything. Mainly because you can’t talk me into it either.” Jeane’s brow furrowed and her lips formed a small angry pout. William continued. “I do what I like, and I do what is best for you, and you accept it. Plain and simple. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice short, bitterness boiling in her.
He turned slowly to face her, his eyes hard. “Do you want to try that again?” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. Her eyes widened, and her mouth worked silently and failed to come up with anything. He grabbed her roughly and tucked her head beneath his arm, bending her at the waist, facing behind him. Holding her in place beside him, he spanked her bottom hard, his hand rising and falling quickly and sharply. She gasped and wriggled, her feet dancing on the carpet. It was too fast! She couldn’t absorb it like the slow, metered blows of her whippings.
“Now then,” William said quietly, after a minute or so of stinging spanks. “Who am I?” He paused, and when she didn’t speak, he spanked again, ten to fifteen hard swats, reddening her bottom further. He’d never spanked her like this before! Her whippings were always so formal, so measured and counted! William continued spanking hard and fast, a flurry of blows to her thighs causing her to almost shriek.
“Who am I Jeane?!” he asked, raising his voice over her cries.
She spluttered and gasped, tears running down her cheeks. “M-m… Master!”
“Oh come now, you can do better than that,” he continued, placing a few more swats on her behind. “Whose master?” She was silent again. He shook his head, continuing the onslaught to her lovely round bottom. “Whose master, Jeane?
Whose?” She jerked and writhed in his arms, almost screaming as the answer wrenched itself from her.
“MY Master, Sir, Mine!” she shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. He stopped, and stood her up, turning her to face him directly.
“Who am I?” he asked firmly.
“The Master,” she replied, her voice soft and watered with her tears.
“Whose master?” he asked, now nose to nose with the tearful girl.
“MY Master!” she said firmly, her voice taking a note of finality that almost dared anyone to defy the statement. He smiled, and stepped back a pace.
“Good. You need to be quite sure that you remember that, Jeane. Now, turn around.” She did as she was told, and he untied the ropes that had bound her hands behind her. She rubbed lightly at the impression of the rope as he went back to the trunk. He came up with something small in his hand and returned to stand behind her again.
“You haven’t worn this in quite a while. I think it’s time you did. You need to be reminded of some things.” He slipped the shiny black collar around her neck and fastened the buckle. Her hand went up to touch the single tiny ring at the front.
She hadn’t worn the collar in some time, it was true. And honestly, she had missed it. It was truly the one thing that reminded her, day in and day out, to think of her Master and of his expectations of her. Her hand fell back to her side, and she straightened, chin up, to accept the punishment she knew was coming.
He didn’t wait long. “Come here, Jeane,” he said softly. She walked to the bench where he stood, rope in hand. He took her hands, holding them for a brief moment before tying them in front of her. Then he knelt and tied her ankles, smacking her once on the thigh when she tugged against his hands. “Be still, Jeane,” he said firmly, setting the knots in place.
He touched her back, a signal to her to bend over the padded length of the bench. It was sturdy, covered with black cloth, and just the right height for her to kneel on the seat and lean over the padded back. She faced the wall, only a few feet away, and fastened to that wall was a small iron ring. She reached over with her bound hands, her hips settling into place. Her torso hung free, over the edge, and she leaned quietly over the bench, waiting.
William casually strolled around to the front of the bench, threading rope through the ring and then through her bonds, pulling her upper body taut, arms extended. He tied off the rope and walked slowly around her, gazing at her lean body, round in all the right places. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a length of tiny chain, a clip at each end. Returning to the front of the bench, William reached under her, teasing and tweaking her nipples. Jeane gasped and sighed at the pleasure of it, reveling in his not-so-gentle touch.
Her nipples responded in kind, forming hard buds of rosy skin, and he swiftly moved to place them between the cruel teeth of the clips. She hissed breath between her teeth, whimpering as he tightened the clips to bite into her tender flesh.
William smiled, watching her writhe almost imperceptibly at the sensations caused by the tiny clips. He reached a hand down to tug gently at the chain connecting the two, and watched her gasp and bite her lip. “See? This is what happens to naughty girls. Girls who don’t obey their master…. Girls who … lie…”
He had picked up the crop and was tracing it down her back, watching the shiver run up her spine. He drew back and struck her hard on the buttocks, leaving a crimson line that burned like fire. Jeane yelped and jerked, then whimpered and tried hard to be still as the swinging chain tugged at the clips on her nipples. “Be still, Jeane,” he breathed, leaning over her body. “We’re just getting started.” William stepped back a pace, and then began in earnest, the blows even and spaced, both in time and placement. Before he paused to take a breath, Jeane’s buttocks and thighs were lined with stripes of red. She tugged at the rope that held her hands, her hair falling in her face and sticking to the wetness of her tears.
William walked to the table and retrieved his drink, letting the cold drops of condensation fall onto her back. She tensed. He continued. His expert strokes criss-crossed the previous ones, raising puffy lines on her already flaming behind. The strokes were heavy, and more than a few were already deepening to bruises. They darkened to an angry plum where the strokes fell over one another, and to the trained eye, it was clear that the placement of those overlaps were deliberate.
William laid the last stroke and lifted his glass to his lips, never taking his eyes off the girl bound before him. He watched her struggle with her tears, tug at her bonds, and eventually come to a shuddering stillness punctuated by her gasping sobs. He lifted his glass once more over her body, letting the cold drops fall one by one onto her bruised buttocks. She whimpered and jerked as each one fell, their icy sting not relieving, but reawakening the searing blows.
William drained his glass and set it down, then walked to Jeane’s side. He twined his hand in her thick hair and tipped her head to face him. Her lips parted breathlessly as she fought to find words. He placed a fingertip over lips to silence her.
“Do not apologize, girl. You know that forgiveness was granted when I let you remain under my hand.” She closed her eyes at the very prospect of being sent from him. He tugged at her hair, and she re-opened her eyes and focused on his lovely face. It was still cold and hard, and his eyes glittered like steel. “You need not ask for mercy either. You know I don’t have any.” It was true, mainly because William was so attentive to his girls that he didn’t need to relent on account of mercy. Everything was meticulously watched, and he relented precisely when he meant to. “I’ve made a decision. Do you understand, girl?”
“I understand,” she said softly. He let go of her hair quickly and reached back to place a sharp slap on her bottom, causing her to cry out.
“Try again, girl,” he said coolly, stepping a pace back from her and eyeing her, arms folded over his chest. Jeane spent a brief moment in confusion before understanding dawned. He had called her girl. She was being put through the early stages again. He waited a moment, and took a step toward her.
“This girl understands, Master. She is truly sorry at having forgotten,” Jean sputtered, hoping to avoid more punishment. No such luck. William struck the other side of her bottom, the bruises already throbbing in a deep ache. Jeane wailed.
“You will only get one more try, girl. Think hard and do it right.” William’s voice was low and even, almost too low to hear. Jean concentrated, remembering her first few days under William’s hand. Her heart sank as she realized that he was truly bringing her back to the very beginning. Her voice cracked as she spoke the words.
“This girl understands, S-sir.” Her eyes filled with tears again. It had taken three months for William to allow Jeane to call him Master. She was being forbidden to call him hers. Now, he was just another man. She was just another girl. Jeane cried silently in despair. Now she would have to work twice as hard to regain his trust.
William returned to the trunk, drawing out the long suede flogger. Its tails were easily three feet long, and there were at least twenty of them. He walked to Jeane’s side, running a hand over her bottom, surveying his handiwork thus far. “Good. I’m glad you understand, girl,” he said in his firm even tone, now tinged with a bit of sadness instead of the cool harshness that had prevailed before. He shifted his attention to her hands again, untying the rope from the ring at the wall and jerking her none too gently to her feet. He left the length of rope still attached to her bound hands and knelt to swiftly untie the short length of rope that bound her feet. He tossed the short length into the trunk, and then stood again.
William guided her with a series of tugs and pushes to the center of the room, reaching up to attach the rope that led from her bound hands to another ring, this one fastened to the beam in the ceiling. He pulled, and Jeane stretched her arms above her head, her feet still firmly in the floor. William made another trip to the trunk, this time removing a long wooden bar with rings at each end, and picking up the set of leather ankle cuffs. He knelt and fastened the cuffs to her ankles with a practiced ease, then joined them to the rings on either end of the bar. Jeane struggled to retain her balance, her ankles now four feet apart from each other. She tugged at the rope binding her hands, steadying herself. Her body bowed forward, her breasts jutting out as her center of balance shifted.
William wasted no time. He stood back and measured the distance, then struck. The flogger swished through the air to land a solid blow to Jeane’s buttocks, the ends of the tails wrapping around to bite at the softness of her thighs.
Jean writhed, her body jerking. William quickened his pace, striking quickly, layering the blows over her bottom, thighs and back. The wicked tails twisted and threaded their way around her torso, leaving weals on her stomach, her inner thighs, her breasts. Jeane wailed and sobbed, her body dancing on the end of the rope like a bug on a string. Even with all her movement, not a single blow went awry, not a single stroke fell where William did not intend. He walked in circles as she turned, her toes finding little purchase on the thick carpeting.
He struck again, and again, this time from the front, and the cruel tips of the flogger left burning marks on her buttocks and back. Jeane cried until there were no more tears, her body heaving with the effort. William continued, layering the stokes until her entire body from shoulders to knees was red, and the tiny biting marks of the tips of the flogger left their imprint over the dull redness at strategic points on her hips, thighs and torso.
William stepped back, his breathing a bit faster, and a trickle of sweat running down his cheek. Jeane sagged on the ropes, her face hot, her cheeks streaked with tears. Jeane breathed deep and slow, trying desperately to retain her calm. It wasn’t working. William noted her breathing with marked patience, and turned, dropping the flogger to the floor beside the single chair in the room. He waited, watching, settling back into the chair.
Jeane twisted almost imperceptibly against the rope. She would have turned her head, if she’d had the will to. She couldn’t see William. He was just out of her line of sight. Jeane breathed heavily, her hands just beginning to tingle. She eventually tugged again at the rope, not quite struggling, but more trying to ease the pull on her hands.
William sat up in the chair, resting his forearms on his knees, concentrating on the once willful girl in front of him. She had been one of his favorite girls from the start. She had so much fire. So much energy in her. But she had taken to the ropes like a fish to water, and after he removed them from her wrists the first time, she stared in wonder at the impression left by the twisted cord.
She was a proud girl. Too proud. That had been one of the first things he sought to overcome in her. That unerring pride. It was only compounded by the fact that she was very very smart. Too smart. And she spoke too well, too fluidly. She could convince anyone of anything if they only listened to her for a moment. Anyone but William. He had seen her kind before. True, she had refined her manipulation to an art form, but he had dealt with it many times. He only needed to up the ante to take care of Jeane for good this time.
From the very beginning she had tested, pushed her limits, and tried to weasel her way out of the situations that William put her in. She failed. He was solid, unmovable. As hard as she tried, she could find no chink in his armor, no flaw to exploit, no way to curb his will to hers. And she had fallen hard.
William sighed as he remembered the look in her eyes the first time he had silenced her. She talked her way out of everything. At first, William curbed that by simply not allowing her to talk. When she did not comply of her own volition, the rubber gag did the job effectively. And eventually, she remained silent on her own, secure in the knowledge that her tongue was not a means of escape from him. She gave him looks, and made faces, and grew increasingly frustrated when none of it worked on William. He grew more and more pleased at her failures at control, and reveled in the totality of her newfound submission. And finally, he allowed her to call him by the title “master.”
He looked at her, now so contrite, toes scrabbling at the floor in an attempt to halt the slow swing her body had begun. He stood, walking to her, her body tingling and aflame, her hands still.
Running his hands slowly over her skin, he watched her. His hands rose to the shining clips on her nipples, and looking straight into her eyes, he slowly released them. As expected, her eyes flashed with a sudden spike of pain as the blood rushed back into the rspberry tips. he ran fingers over then, teasing them back to life in an almost clinical manner. She whimpered as tears fell fresh.
He untied the rope from her hands and held her as she found her balance. He knelt to unfasten her feet from the bar and supported her as her legs adjusted to being close to one another again. Then he sat her down.
Jeane knelt, unconsciously avoiding sitting directly. William sat on his heels in front of her. He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “It will never happen again,” he said quietly. It was not a request. It was not a question. It was if he had been given undeniable assurance of the future. He looked at her, a long hard look that seemed to drink in her very soul. She nodded, and licked at her dry lips. He pressed a finger to them, silencing her.
“There is no need to answer, girl,” he said, his voice low and deep. “It is fact. You know this.” Jeane nodded again and looked down at her hands, the marks from the rope still red and angry on her wrists. William rubbed at the marks, easing them, and Jeane looked up at him, tears she thought were impossible to bring forth spilling again over her cheeks.
William stood slowly and walked to the table, pouring the glass full of clear water. He brought it back to her and knelt again, tipping the glass to her lips. Jeane brought up a hand to take the glass, but he gently slapped her fingers away, taking her head in his other hand, and giving her the drink himself.
She drained the glass, and he stood again, this time helping her to her feet. He rubbed sure hands over her body, tracing the weals and raised lines of his handiwork. He turned her this way and that, surveying his art, and, finally satisfied, turned her to face him again.
“Never again,” he said firmly, his eyes once more steely and cold. “Speak the words, girl. Say them out loud so I can hear you.” He stepped back from her, turning to pick up the items strewn about the room, placing them carefully back in the trunk. He turned his head to eye her, waiting.
Jeane shifted uncomfortably on unsure feet before opening her mouth. “I.. This girl is sorry, Sir. She…”
He frowned, and leaned in close again. “Hush. I didn’t ask you for that. Say the words.”
Jeane blinked, and spoke clearly, the words sticking. “N-never again, Sir.” She looked down at the floor, her face hot with shame. “Never again,” she repeated, more quietly. William gestured towards her clothes, and smiled a slow easy smile.
“Dress. And then come to the kitchen.” He turned on his heel and left the room, not quite closing the door behind him. Jeane sagged in relief and then quickly began dressing, sliding the silk underclothes over her bruised body with a hiss. She pulled the sensible dress over her head and straightened it, then walked barefoot to the kitchen, her heart full to bursting with relief and love.
~~~oOo~~~
William turned as Jeane entered the warm kitchen. He smiled, and gestured for her to sit at one of the padded velvet chairs at the long table. Its wood was dark and so deeply polished she could see herself in its shine. And no matter how soft the chairs were, they were never soft enough after she and William had spent time in the other room. Jeane smiled, suppressed a whimper at the thought of sitting and went to her place. She could not bite back the gasp as she sat, and William smiled at her, a deep chuckle emerging from his throat.
“Have you learned girl?” he asked, smiling broadly as he set the plate in front of her. Jeane nodded, turning her attention to the lovely meal he had obviously prepared beforehand. Glazed chicken, asparagus, and green beans. The rolls were so soft they looked like pillows.
Jeane looked up at him and smiled. It was always like this after. William did not leave her alone, but brought her into his kitchen, his place, to eat with her. He smiled at her, as he often did, but this time there was a sparkle to his eyes that she could not quite place. Her obedience and her submission carried over, as did his dominance, and she easily fell into stride with the way of things.
William set his plate on the table and set silverware for himself. He did not bring any for Jeane. “Well, eat,” he said lightheartedly, gesturing towards her plate. Jean smiled and picked up her food with shaking fingers, eating slowly as William poured wine for the both of them.
“Silly girl,” he said, placing both glasses by his plate. Jean removed her hands from the table, looking at the wine. William smiled again, and tipped her glass to her lips. She drank, and he set the glass back down beside his. “You’ve come a long way since you first came here, Jeane,” he said softly, ignoring her wide-eyed look when he spoke her name. “You’ve become so strong, so capable. I’m very proud of you.” Jeane blushed and looked down, unable to hide her smile.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, sharing looks and smiles, until William pushed his plate back and drained the last drops from his wineglass. He tipped Jeane’s glass toward her, smiling as the warm red liquid passed over her lips. He set the glass down and smiled again, watching her blush.
William stood and pushed in his chair, smiling a slow, almost wicked smile. He came to her side of the table, dipping a napkin in the water glass and gently wiping her fingers clean before stepping back from the table’s edge. His eyes never left her as he removed his shoes and socks, bending to slide them under the edge of the table. She watched as his hands went to the button of his shirt, unfastening it all the way to his beltline. He paused, and nodded downward once, his eyes briefly flickering to the floor.
Jeane rose from her chair, sliding it back and standing, her smooth body rising with fluid grace. She walked to him, kneeling in front of him, her hands rising to unfasten the buckle of his belt. Jeane pulled the belt all the way through the loops, folding it in half before handing it to the perfect man standing motionless before her.
William took the belt from her hand, tracing the leather slowly down her cheek. He placed the folded end under her chin, lifting her face to look at him. He smiled at her, tossing the belt onto the table. He nodded again, and she continued.
Jeane unbuttoned the fitted khaki pants, tugging the zipper down slowly. She ran her hands up his hips, finally stopping above the waistband of the slacks to ease them down. Her eyes settled on the soft curling hairs peeking through the gap at the zipper. William never wore underwear. Jeane had seen him naked many times, but it still took her breath away to undress him. She pushed the pants down over his lean hips, reaching to free his erect cock from the confines of the khakis.
William tipped his head back, closing his eyes as Jeane completed her task. She unbuttoned the last button on his shirt, allowing it to fall open. William shrugged out of the shirt with the barest movement of broad shoulders, sliding it down his arms to fall to the floor behind him. Muscles rippled across his chest and stomach as he breathed deeply. Jeane pushed the khakis to the floor, sliding them away as he lifted first one toned leg, then the other.
She stood, lifting the pants and shirt from the floor and folding them carefully. She placed them on the counter and waited, head bowed, before his incredible form. William gestured with a hand towards her clothes, and she smiled softly as she lifted the dress over her head once again. She folded it and laid it over the counter, then slid her panties down her legs to the floor, bending to gather them and place them with her dress.
William stood with arms crossed, watching her undress for him. His gaze never strayed as she stood straight and waited, looking at William’s naked body as well. Jeane never tired of seeing his body. Smooth skin covered defined muscles that hid their true power. He wasn’t grossly overdeveloped, but he wasn’t soft either. William could lift her over his head if he wanted.
Now, he chose to use his strong hands to rub roughly over her body, still tingly from the punishment she had endured. His hands paused at her breasts, touching her nipples and running the pads of his thumbs over the nubs. She gasped, closing her eyes, keeping her hands obediently at her sides with some difficulty. He stepped closer, until his body was almost pressed to hers. She could feel his breath on her skin as his hand twined in the hair at the base of her neck.
“Look at me,” he said, his husky voice almost inaudible as he tugged sharply to bring her face up. Jeane opened her eyes, her breath coming in quick shallow whispers. He had pulled the elastic from his hair, and it now fell forward, grazing his face, a strand or two falling across his blue eyes. William locked his steely gaze on her, his expression hard, with the underlying passion burning through. He kissed her, his mouth rough against hers. His tongue searched her mouth, driving against her lips.
William brought his other hand to rest at the small of her back, pressing her against him. She could feel him, pressing hot and hard against her stomach, as she wrapped herself around him. Her leg lifted, curving over his hip. Her arms embraced him, hands feeling the toned muscle of his back and shoulders as she kissed back, just as hard, tipping her hips to bring more of her body in contact with him.
William pulled her lips from his with a tug on her thick blonde hair. He stepped back a bit, his fingers still tangled in her hair, and walked slowly to the opposite end of the table. Jeane followed, reveling in the firm grasp William had on her. He led her to the end of the table, stepping closer to her, pushing her back against it.
Jeane leaned back, her hands gripping the edge of polished table as William pressed his naked body closer to hers. He raised his hands to run up her sides, over her hips, tracing patterns on her breasts. He finally tucked his hands under her arms and lifted her, holding her in the air for a brief moment. Then he sat her down, letting her round bottom rest on the table as he nudged a knee between her legs.
Jeane opened her lips in a soft moan as William parted her legs and stepped forward to stand between them. She could feel the hardness of him, so close to her as he wrapped his arms around her. Jeane placed her hands on the table behind her to support herself. She already felt as if she were melting as William stepped even closer, the head of his hard penis brushing against her sex.
William traced a fingertip down her cheek, continuing down her neck and across her stomach. He trailed down over the soft mound of flesh to nudge gently at the tiny button at her core. Jean tipped her head back, gasping, her lower lip caught between her teeth. William watched her writhe as he traced circles around the bud, feeling her wetness. He smiled a wickedly delicious smile, and eyes still locked on her, grabbed her hips as he thrust forward.
Jeane cried out with the pleasure of it, feeling every inch of him as he entered her with the quick motion. She leaned against his arms as he began a slow rhythm, rocking her body in time with his. She curled up to meet each thrust, which, after the first, were agonizingly slow. She held tightly to his shoulders, her fingernails pressing into his broad back. She lifted her hips as he slid into her, almost whimpering at the torturous pace.
Groaning, William slid into her, each time feeling her tighten around him, increasing the glorious friction of their lovemaking. He upped the tempo, pushing in faster, gripping her tender flesh with hard fingers as he lifted her off the table. He spun, sitting on the table himself and settling her onto him. He leaned back, resting his head on his hands, letting her ride him.
Jeane rocked her body, her breasts rising and falling with her motion. She felt him inside, touching places only William had ever touched. He was so much bigger than any other man she had had, that she had felt like a virgin again their first time together. Now, she tipped her hips back and forth, feeling him rub against her inside, moaning and gasping as she rocked, her clit pressing hard against his pubic bone. William grabbed her hips again, lifting her and thrusting her down onto him as her lifted his hips to meet hers.
Jeane breathed heavier, her body beginning the slight tremble that always let
William know she was close. He sat up quickly and without a pause spun her again, laying her on the table and hooking his arm underneath her knees. He looked her in the eye, taking her hard. Jeane opened her eyes and mouth in identical O’s, her voice keening as her body clenched.
William thrust hard and growled deeply as his own orgasm met hers and soared with it. He leaned over her, feeling her breath on his cheek as she trembled and shuddered, finally gasping a deep breath as she lay still on the table, now sticky with the sweat of the both of them.
~~~oOo~~~
William lay with her for a moment, tracing his fingers along her face as she wrapped her hands in his hair. He smiled at her as he lifted himself from the table, taking her hand and leading her through the house. He stopped at the bathroom, taking a fluffy towel from the cabinet and placing it on the counter. Then he turned on the shower and gave her a playful swat as he gestured toward the tub. “Wash, little girl. Then come to my study,” he said softly, closing the door on the steamy room.
Jeane washed quickly, wincing a little as the spikes of water fell onto tender places. She dried herself and her hair, then wrapped the towel around herself and headed to William’s study. William showered quickly while Jeane was in her bath and was dressed once again in his blue silk skirt and khakis when Jeane, in her fluffy bath towel, entered his study.
He waved a hand in the direction of the sofa, where he had brought her clothes and laid them out. “Dress,” he said softly, watching her as she slid the clothes over her pink skin. “You’ve come a long way since the first time. You threw an absolute fit when I asked you to dress and undress in front of me then.”
Jeane blushed, remembering her silly outburst and the very efficient way William had silenced her: with a handkerchief in her mouth. Now he watched her, noting the smile on her lips as she dressed. She turned to face him when she finished, turning in a circle to let him see her fully. He laughed, a soft chuckle that warmed her to the core. Then he pointed to the small chair in front of his desk. Jeane sat.
William leaned casually over the desk, eyeing her carefully. “Yes, Jeane, you’ve come a very long way.” William sat back in his chair, looking at her. “But, you have so much more to learn. There is so much more I can teach you.” He stood, and walked to her side. He ran a hand down her cheek, bending to kiss her softly on the lips. Jeane smiled and struggled to keep her tears of happiness at bay.
“I can teach you everything, Jeane. I can show you things you’ve never thought of. You only need allow me to do so.” Her mouth dropped open as he reached with one hand to unfasten the buckle of the simple black collar she was wearing. She whimpered when he dropped it to the floor. His voice had softened, and he pulled something out of his pocket. “I want you to live here. To be mine. To listen and obey me always. You will have to let me take care of you Jeane. Will you allow me to do so? Will you trust me?” Her eyes glanced down to see what he had drawn out, what he was now holding in his hands.
“Will you wear this, Jeane? For now and all time? Will you be mine always?” His voice still solid and clear, but with a note in it that clearly said “hope.” Jeane’s eyes settled on the object he held in front of her. It could hardly be called a collar, it was so exquisite. The black velvet was covered with intricate stitching, and in the very center was a small silver ring, from which dangled a tiny, perfectly round diamond.
Jeane gasped as the sparkle of it caught her eyes. She sputtered as he reached around to hold the perfectly wonderful collar to her neck. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Say the words, Jeane. Out loud, where I can hear you.”
Jeane reached back to hold up her hair. She closed her eyes,the tears now falling freely, and said, “Yes!”