His voice came from above her. It echoed around in her head. She could almost feel the words rumbling in the air between them, but she was having the hardest damn time catching them, holding them, understanding them.
“Little one,” His voice was suffused with warmth…and a dose of humor. “This is twice now that you have fainted after orgasming. How long, exactly, has it been since you’ve had sex?”
“How many months?”
“X? X months? Is that an algebraic formula?”
She giggled. She was flying, her heart and body light and free and ebullient.
“X is…an unknown number.”
She tacked that on at the end, after a faint pause. He liked to be called Sir. She remembered that. She wanted to get up and dance but a firm hand between her breasts pushed her back onto the floor. The cool wood under her ass was soothing. There was a burn there, for some odd reason.
Her hand moved, touching something wet and sticky on the floor. Ewww, what was that? She frowned. And it all came back in a rush of color and sensation. Heat, red-hot, from her ass. Electricity, the zing of the connection that she and He had begun to develop.
She paused there for a moment. Was he tolerating her? Was he like this every time some reporter came here, asking about the “50 shades” experience? Or was there really some connection here?
She opened her eyes, looked up to where he sat beside her.
“Is this real?” she asked. There was no carefully constructed query behind it. Her voice sounded small, timid. She wanted to pull it back, that question. Not wanting to hear the answer, she covered her face with her hand, shook her head no.
“no..don’t say it,” she murmured. His hand took her wrist, pushing her hand aside, while his fingers took her chin, shaking it a bit to make her look at him.
“Do not hide your reactions from me. They are precious, you see, and feed me in my own fashion. I like you. You’re serious, and lost, intelligent, and fearful. An interesting package. Do I think that this experience has surpassed your story? ”
He waited, watching her face. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for his response.
“Yes.” His eyes sharpened, looking not at her, but into her. “This is way beyond what you needed to know for a story. The only story here now is you, and where–and how deeply– you wish to explore your new-found self. This isn’t an easy journey. Submission is …” He broke off, looking at her.
“It is a journey for which there is no destination.”
His smile did crazy things to her. She felt the warmth of it…of Him…a feeling much deeper and beyond the warmth that was throbbing in her rounded bottom. She paused at that thought. She was not a sweet young thing as were several of the girls she’d seen moving about the dungeon space during her time here. She was clad nearly as scantily as they, laying here on the floor in only a soft, skimpy tee-shirt, but she felt…like a ….a round, bobbly bobwhite compared to the svelte, pert girls. She was the drab bird, the one who hid in the underbrush, while flashier birds than her cavorted above; the cardinals, the jays, the mockingbirds. Sleek, bright, readily flaunting themselves, so carefree and …open. She envied them that. She was confident in who she was in her profession; a damned fine writer, with a great bio. But here? Here she was in a social aspect that was so foreign, so unknown to her that she felt lost, blown round about in a sudden, life-altering wind.
He was the answer. The deeply rooted tree that she could cling to. And for whatever reason, he paid her more attention than any of those pretty birds.
“why?” It burst from her insecurity. Always the chubby girl. The not-quite-as-pert ‘n pretty girl.
He seemed, somehow, to understand where she was in her head. His finger slipped down her nose, around her lips. Pressed inside her mouth, exploring. Then around, down, cruising one tit, the other, and flicking at each nipple as it roused.
“Because I want you.”
There was an inherent honesty in his words. Sincerely spoken. That was one thing she deeply admired about this “lifestyle” as people who did it, lived it, called it. There was a high level of honesty between people. She was sure there were nutters out there; there were in any lifepath. But this man, sitting here with his honest face, and intense eyes, he touched her in ways that surpassed the ass-whooping he’d just given her.
With a slight smile, she reached up, touched his hand with her fingers.
“Thank you. I’m…just not sure what is the experience, the reactions to it…and what is you. This is all so ….strange to me. That what you did…”
He interrupted. “I like to call it spanking.”
The giggle escaped before she could capture it, hold it back. She didn’t giggle for gods sakes. She was a woman grown. Giggling was for…well, it wasn’t her. Yet…he made her feel…giggly. Girly. And so amazingly alive.
And turned on. She wasn’t sure what to make of it…she’d never been so affected by someone, and certainly not in the first day she’d met them.
Her blush spoke louder than her voice. His palm cupped her cheek, taking the heat away.
“It is all part of the experience, and it is all about me within that. We are connected through the play, through the trust you have already put into my hands, and through that secret unknowing source of connection that two people feel when things are just …right. Some may call it “connection”. ”
Again with the air quotes. It made her see Him as human, and not some supernatural uber-power that she cloaked him in when he was “Dom”.
“Some may call it “love at first sight” and some might call it a strong sexual connection. Of course, we have not had sex yet. You have not serviced me, and although you have had two orgasms, little one, they were more caused by a physical release than a sexual one. Certainly an orgasm can come with pain- you have indeed just proved it can happen. Twice.” He grinned at her, flicking her nipple again.
She bit her lip, nervous, excited, turned on.
“You are still my assistant today, yes?” At her quick nod, he took her hand and helped her up from the floor.
“Then please, assistant, clean up the mess you left behind here, wipe down the spanking bench, and meet me back in my office when you are done. And little one?”
At her look, he stared pointedly at her bare pussy.
“I expect you to remain attired just as you are. No one will play with you, as everyone here knows you are under my protection today. If you need help finding my office, one of the other sluts will guide you. And I’ll expect to see your pretty ass there soon, yes?”
She nodded. Then looked down at the mess on the floor. Cum and drool. All hers. Torn between a feeling of admiration~there was a lot of cum there~ and embarrassment, she wondered what she was supposed to clean the floor with.
“Your shirt will do nicely to get the goop off the floor. Slut lindsey?” He called across the room to a young woman wearing only a thickly spiked collar. The long silver spikes made her head stay up, giving her beautiful posture. Rather than shouting, she almost glided across the room to them.
“Show my assistant where to find the sterile wipes for the equipment. Then show her where to find my office. No, don’t help her, just guide her.” With a nod to them, he strode away. For a big man, he made precious little noise, she noted. In minutes lindsey had shown her where the wipes were, and which door down the long corridor was His office.
She looked at the wet splots on the floor, and finally just doffed her tee-shirt. It seemed a shame to use it thus, but it was what He had requested. Once the floor was clean, it was onto the spanking bench. Careful to make it as clean as the floor, she was embarrassed to see cum streaks on one of the support rails as well. Quickly she wiped, then found the trash and disposed of the used things. Gross. What to do with the tee-shirt?
Figuring that she should ask Him, she bunched it up in her hand. But what was she supposed to cover up in on the way to his office. Her nudity hadn’t mattered in here, but out there…well, anyone could see her. Finally deciding that she could lift the shirt up to cover her boobs should anyone come down the hallway, she scurried to his office, knocked on the door, and went inside.
He was typing on a computer, but glanced up as she came in.
“Did I not make my wishes abundantly clear?”
Her heart fell. Ohno. She didn’t want to disappoint him.
“One thing you will learn, little one, is to follow directions carefully. I don’t expect perfection, but most Masters want their sluts to be the best they can be. Tell me what I told you about your attire.”
“You told me not to dress any more than what I was wearing. But Sir…”
“Exactly. Nor did I tell you to arrive back here nude. Not that I mind your nakedness. It is very appealing. Yet, that is not the point here. I want you to put that tee-shirt on.”
“B-but…I cleaned the floor with it and….” she drew to a stuttering stop at his casual smile. She took a breath, then finished when he did not speak. “And it doesn’t matter what I did with the damned shirt, you still want me to put it on. That’s gross.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She looked at the sticky shirt balled up in her hands. Ewww. She pulled it over her head, trying to ignore the big wet spot on her left shoulder, and just above her belly button. There were streaks of wetness smeared across her left tit as well.
“Much better. You wear your juices well.”
It took everything in her to not roll her eyes.
He laughed. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, staring at her mutinous face. She glared, he laughed harder.
“Slut, you are making this almost too much fun,” he wheezed.
She wouldn’t admit it just then, but she wholeheartedly agreed.