Henry twisted his neck back and forth, trying to get some relief from the tightness of his collar and tie. Usually, he enjoyed cocktail parties, getting dressed up, mingling and carousing, but that evening he just wanted to be home in bed. It had been a horrible day, and as much as he loved Joy and her friends, he just wasn’t in the mood to be charming.
The party was in a pretty and darkly lit bar. One of those speakeasy-type places that rented out its basement for intimate events. There was a piano, stand-up bass, and singer, artfully filling the room with soft but interesting jazz. There were two handsome bartenders, shaking Martinis and Manhattans and all sorts of more unusual concoctions.
It should have been captivating, but that evening it all rang a bit flat, for Henry at least. He was planning his escape when he saw the woman with large hungry eyes in the corner. Tall, striking, pouting lips, a Roman nose, and those eyes, huge and demanding attention.
Henry wondered if it would be worth staying another few minutes just to introduce himself. As he contemplated, as if she read his thoughts, he saw that her gaze seemed to focus on him. The look in her eyes was somewhere between desperate and predatory. She was watching him, holding a full coupe of champagne and biting her bottom lip.
He looked her over once more. She was perhaps an inch shy of six feet tall, wide-hipped, and thick thighed. Her hair was straight and dark with neat bangs. Her aquiline nose made him think she might be Greek or Italian. Those eyes were pools of brown and thickly lined with black. She looked like an ancient statue. A beauty that was of another time. That look seemed to contrast with her nervous fidgeting posture.
As he watched her, she took a deep breath and seemed to make up her mind about something. She nodded and started walking towards him. Henry finished his Scotch and put the glass down on a nearby table. He stood up a little straighter and fixed his tie.
“You’re Henry,” she said when she got to him, and then she immediately seemed to regret what she said. For some reason, he expected her to have an accent, but she seemed local, or at least from somewhere on the East Coast.
“I am. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said with a smile. She sighed and gathered herself again.
“Right, yes, I’m sorry. I’m being incredibly rude. I’m Elena. I know you from-I mean-I had a friend who knew you. Victoria? Do you remember someone named Victoria? It was a while ago-” she started, but she stopped talking when he smiled.
“Of course. How could I ever forget Victoria? It’s been years since I’ve heard from her. How is she?” he asked, motioning for a waiter to bring him another drink.
Elena sipped her champagne and considered the question. “She’s doing well, though we don’t talk much anymore. She moved to Chicago. She’s working for some advertising agency or something. She seems happy.”
Henry nodded. He had known Victoria for a short but intense time. It was a summer of abandon. He was younger then and wilder, and Victoria was hungry for life. They met in a whirlwind, and a date turned into a weekend together which turned into two weeks of sex and kink and passion the likes of which he had rarely ever seen before or since.
They tried to keep in touch after, but they seemed to only really have that one moment.
“She talked about you a lot. I mean, I was her roommate back then. I almost called the police when she didn’t come home that weekend. Then her text messages were so strange, so unlike her. Finally, when she came back, she seemed changed somehow. It took days before the whole story spilled out of her,” Elena said in a rush, seeming embarrassed after she spoke as if she let out a secret.
Henry smiled, embarrassed more for her than himself. He was not a man who felt much shame about his own doings. The waiter handed him another Scotch, and Henry inhaled the scent of the spirit. He closed his eyes and remembered Victoria, the taste of her, the madness of their time together. It was a flame that had never gone out and a memory he often came back to. He sipped his drink and smiled at Elena once more.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Elena. Any friend of Victoria is a friend of mine. What brings you to Joy’s little get-together this evening?”
She eyed him and took a long sip of her drink. “I’ve been invited to a few of these things. We have more friends in common than just Victoria, it seems. Honestly, I came because I saw your name on the guest list. I remembered it from Victoria’s stories, and I wanted to meet you.”
Her voice still wavered a little with nervousness, but it seemed to be getting more confident.
“Oh? Victoria’s stories left that much of an impression?” Henry said with a chuckle.
She didn’t laugh, she only nodded seriously. “Yes. I remember them very vividly. Now, just like then, I want that. I want to live her story. Tied down and used, praised and worshipped, then beaten and fucked. A cycle of violence and lust and tenderness. All the incredible details. I’ve fantasized about it. I’ve fantasized about you, even though we’ve never met. I swore if I was ever in the same room, I’d-” she stopped, looking scared to finish her sentence.
Henry leaned in, unsure of what to think about what he just heard. Remembering Victoria, the tiny thing, how they had fallen into such a potent dynamic from that first meeting. How she both submitted to him in so many ways and yet at the same time demanded his worship.
Elena, on the other hand, was perhaps four inches taller than Henry in her heels. She was thickly curved and powerfully built. An amazon. Like her body, her demeanor was completely different than the petite and bratty Victoria. Elena seemed constrained. She seemed to be forcing out the somewhat shocking words she was delivering to him.
“If you were ever in the same room as me, you’d what?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I guess, I’d offer myself to you. Is that a strange way of phrasing it?”
Henry remained relatively calm. It was his way. He was a bit unflappable, and it was part of his charm. It was part of how he created an air of control, but it was difficult when faced with the vulnerability in her eyes and the weight of her words. His eyes moved to her plump lips, stained in dark red. He glanced down to her cleavage, a deep inviting line. Then her hips and thighs. A goddess offering herself up.
“It’s a remarkably tempting way to phrase it,” he said, after a moment of consideration. Then he sipped his Scotch once more. “What specifically drew you to Victoria’s story.”
“It was the look in her eyes when she told me about it. How when she talked about you, her gaze went sort of far away. I remember how specific she was about what you did to her. How the whole time she felt worshipped, even when you were tying her up and spanking her and using her,” she said, moving closer as her voice went to a whisper.
Henry felt the warmth of her body and smelled some familiar perfume. It was intoxicating. That and the fact that he was a man who enjoyed hearing about himself.
“You wear the same perfume as she did, don’t you?” Elena’s eyes went wide, and she nodded her head very slightly. “It smells different on you. That chemistry is very interesting. How a scent mixes with someone’s skin and pheromones and all of that.”
She seemed surprised and moved that he knew her perfume.
“My experiences with submission have always involved me being so ready to give myself to someone, but the other person ending up being impatient or ungrateful or just not particularly talented. And pain, well, I always want pain with my pleasure. I just don’t usually know how to ask for it. There is always the fear of giving someone too much power and them really hurting you. Body or heart.”
She moved even closer to him, and he closed the distance until their legs touched, and she was whispering into his ear.
“I don’t know. The way Victoria talked about you just made you sound ideal. And maybe even the fact that you both let it go after that brief affair. Like you both got exactly what you wanted, and any more would just sour things. One perfect experience. I’ve thought about that over and over again.”
Henry nodded, his lip brushing against her cheek. She shivered against him. “You paint a vivid picture. Did Victoria know how her story affected you?”
The question seemed to surprise her. She looked down and considered it. “I don’t know. I mean, she always seemed more worldly than me. She always seemed to know what I was thinking, but she never really brought it up. She did tell me everything, though, in such detail. We usually didn’t speak so intimately and frankly. And, well, she also showed me the marks. I think that’s what really burned it into my memory.”
“The marks?” He asked. He put his drink down on the nearby table, and his hand rested on her hip. She leaned into his touch, sighing a little as if it was something she had desperately needed.
“The fingerprint bruises on her thighs and her breasts. The purple and blue on her ass, like a nebula. She said it was from your hand and your belt. It was the first time she really let me look at her body like that. I mean, we were roommates, but it was different, close up, almost touching.”
His hand tightened on her hip a little. “Was it only her experiences that you wanted, or did you desire Victoria?”
Elena met his eyes and, for the first time, let out a little laugh. “Of course I wanted her. God, you remember what she was like. Everyone wanted to fuck Victoria.”
He laughed too, and the break in the tension felt like a breath of fresh air. He let go of her hip and reached for his drink.
“You don’t have to stop touching me. I like your hands on me,” she whispered, with a surprising amount of longing in her voice.
Henry looked around. “Yes, but the crowd is thinning. I think we’ll have to go soon.” She met his gaze more boldly. “I could go home with you. I could be your pet for a while, the way she was.”
He studied her for a moment. The contrast of her boldness and her shyness. Her tall, striking form, the swell of her hips, the directness of her offer.
“I think Victoria was a very particular pet. I might like to know exactly what kind of pet you would be, but alas, we just met. I’m afraid worship doesn’t come from a single conversation. I’m going to send you home to sleep on it. If you still think you would be interested in earning your own marks, you can give me a call. Then we can perhaps see,” he said, taking a crisp white business card out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handing it to her.
“I’ll call,” she said, biting her bottom lip again. Then she leaned forward, and her red lips touched his ear. “I would like to earn your marks and your worship.”
As they parted, he smiled broadly. “That’s a good start.”
A week later, they met on a busy corner in Chinatown. She wore a long charcoal gray raincoat that made her look like a spy. As he neared, he saw worry and confusion in her eyes.
“Elena,” he said in greeting, moving in for a kiss on her cheek. She turned ever so slightly as they met and he caught the very edge of her lips. Somewhere in the basement of his mind, he checked off a little tick. One point.
He guided her through a few blocks of vegetable markets and fish sellers. Delicious smells of roast pork, followed by the stench of garbage and rancid fish. They went down a strange curved alley into a little side street. The storefronts were old, faded signs for printers and sign makers in Chinese and English. Finally, they came to a red and gold gilded door.
Henry rang the bell. He didn’t react to her wide-eyed curiosity. In a moment, a man in a burgundy tuxedo opened the door and said, “Ah, so good to see you again, sir. We have your booth prepared. Just this way.”
The place was surprisingly large. A long narrow rectangular room with booths and couches lining the walls. As they walked further in, Elena saw the bar, a long slab of marble on top of dark wood. The shelves and trim were well-shined brass, and a single bartender shook and stirred murky concoctions.
Halfway across the room, their guide turned and asked if he could take their coats. Henry slipped off his overcoat, exposing a dark gray tweed suit. Elena slipped off her coat, showing off her somewhat shimmery navy wrap dress. The neckline of which was a low V, exposing ample cleavage.
Henry studied her as she handed off her coat, noting she seemed a bit self-aware of her somewhat risque outfit.
Further into the bar, there were several more booths, each with a brass frame around them and curtains hiding the seats and tables. The curtains were midnight blue and beautifully embroidered with gold stars in constellations. The maître d led them to one of them and opened the curtains for them.
“Menus and water have been laid out for you. When you would like to order, please press the button,” he said, motioning to what looked like a brass framed doorbell inset in the wall.
Henry waited for Elena to slide into the booth first, then he went to the other side. The booth’s bench was a U shape, well padded with red leather covering it. As the curtain was drawn closed, Henry and Elena met at the back of the booth, their legs just barely touching.
He watched her. She was looking forward, not at him, and breathing hard. He gave her a moment to relax a bit.
“I thought this was a good middle ground between a public drink and a private space. We can talk about whatever we like here without the fear of prying eyes or ears.”
She nodded, seeming to calm a bit and giving him a nervous smile. “Victoria told me you were a man who knew about all kinds of elegant and extravagant places. This bar is really something. I wouldn’t have expected to find something like this in a little alley in Chinatown.”
Henry smirked. “I’ve found every neighborhood has a few little secret spots. It’s always been that way in Manhattan, since Prohibition, even further back with the Underground Railroad.”
She nodded and then swallowed. He looked over at the bell and reached for it. “Shall we order something?”
She reached up and held his hand. “Not yet, if that is alright,” she said. He seemed a little surprised and looked at her expectantly, then looked at her hand on his. She met his eyes and didn’t remove her hand.
“Before we talk, I-it’s stupid, I don’t know. I just wondered. I couldn’t sleep last night. Thinking about meeting you. Thinking how this all might go. Thinking about what might happen after.”
He lowered his hand to the table, but she kept her hand on it. She bit her bottom lip.
“Could you just touch me? I don’t care how. I’ve just been so hungry for your hands since I met you. Is that okay to ask?”
He eyed her, studied her. The request seemed very out of the ordinary and so tempting he didn’t think even his game of patience and power could ignore it. He slipped his hand from under hers and rubbed his chin, considering her.
“You often bring up Victoria. It’s interesting because you are so different from her. She was a wild thing that wanted to be tamed. You are something else. Perhaps a fuse that longs to be ignited?”
She looked down at the table, a little hurt. “I’ve been a good and proper woman most of my life. I want a safe place to be something else.”
He reached up and traced the line of her bottom lip with his thumb. She closed her eyes. Her body tensed.
“It’s so invigorating to meet someone so hungry. You are a tightly wound spring, aren’t you? I wonder what would happen if you really let go.”
She opened her mouth, her eyes still closed.
“This dress is a bit low cut for you, isn’t it?” he asked, tracing her whole mouth, but not slipping his finger in. She nodded yes.
“Thank you for dressing outside of your comfort zone for me,” he said, his finger moving to her chin, then down her neck, down her exposed chest, and finally hooking his finger on the low collar of her dress.
“I know the waiter very well here. I assure you, he is not easily scandalized. We have something of an agreement. I’d like to fully expose your breasts while we have a drink and discuss what arrangements we might want to come to. How would you feel about that?”
With that, he removed his finger from her chest, and she opened her eyes. “Yes,” she said very quickly. Looking her in the eye, he wasn’t able to fully gauge what she was thinking.
“Excellent. I appreciate your verbal consent. I won’t question your answers, I hope you know that. Yes or no, that’s how I will proceed,” he explained as his finger returned and pulled the silky material down, exposing a dark red bra.
She tensed. She looked forward and straightened her back.
“Hm, I think we can just pull the cups down, and that should work for a bit before becoming too uncomfortable.”
With that, he pulled and pushed one of the bra’s cups down, exposing her breast and gently guiding it out of the bra. Then he did the other. Then he straightened her dress to cover the pulled-down bra.
She was buxom, with very round areolas topped with thick nipples. Her breasts were magnificent. He was a fan of breasts, and they could be beautiful in so many ways. Elena’s, though, were majestic.
She looked scared. Her nipples were becoming very hard. Henry cupped one breast and her breath caught. He sighed and relished the weight of it.
“Well, when I saw your dress, I thought you looked absolutely mesmerizing. Elegant, classic, beautiful, but now. Well, now you are something else. You are coursing with electric nervousness and desire. It’s quite something. Now, let’s get that drink,” he said, pressing the button on the wall.
As Henry had said, the waiter didn’t bat an eye as he opened the curtain. “Your order, sir?”
“I’ll have the Monkey’s Gland and, for my pet here, perhaps a French 75. We want her to keep her head, after all.”
The waiter smiled, his eyes, just for a moment, taking in Elena and his lip curling into a grin. “Right away, sir.”
When the curtain closed, Henry turned on her with a smile. “How lovely you were. And how you have such a pretty bit of red in your cheeks now.”
He caressed her breasts, softly moving his thumb over her nipples, examining her as if she were a ripe fruit. A few minutes later, there was someone outside of the curtain clearing their throat. Henry said, “Come.”
Her drink was light and sweet, and the bubbles made her a little giddy. His hand was on her thigh, finding the opening in her wrap dress and gripping her bare leg.
She melted into his touches. She was needy, wanton, and pliable. When his fingers moved down, she opened her legs. His strong fingers closed around her inner thigh, pinching her surprisingly hard. She gasped.
He watched her eyes widen at the pain, then a dreamy, faraway look came over her as the pain was processed. He smiled. She would be a joy to hurt.
They talked about books and music and places they had gone. They were both well-traveled. He didn’t ask about her job or her family or if she was dating someone.
He absently groped her breasts as they spoke or reached behind her and pulled her hair a little. There was a casual ownership in his touch. A half an hour of conversation and occasional roughness put her in a state. He seemed to be fully aware of her reaction.
“You were saying? Wanting to visit Hong Kong?” He asked with a grin. Her eyes were blank, though. He’d squeezed her inner thigh again and then pinched her nipple.
“I-um, sorry,” she said, her brain going a bit blank. He watched her, and under his eyes, she grew more self-conscious.
“I think perhaps we’ve found a certain chemistry, don’t you?” He asked, finishing his drink. She nodded enthusiastically.
He straightened her out, neatly putting her back in her dress, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and holding her chin to look her in the eyes.
“Tell me a secret, and perhaps we’ll get into a taxi together.” She swallowed and considered the question. She bit her lip, for a moment trying to look away, but he held fast to her chin so that her eyes wouldn’t meet his.
“Sometimes I don’t want to be tall and imposing and strong. I want to be small. I want to be little. I want to be helpless.”
He nodded and let go of her. “What is most interesting about that, is that you think it is a secret.” And with that, he rose and held out his hand to her. They left their private booth and made their way out of the bar and into the crisp night air.
In a taxi, his hand found its way back to her naked thigh. He whispered in her ear. “My apartment has a few rules, but I think you like rules.” She smiled bashfully and nodded.
His home was in a beautiful brownstone. As they walked up the stone stairs, he took her hand and smiled at her. “No profanity. That’s the first rule. I like a well-behaved pet. No panties. I enjoy having unfettered access to what I want. Finally, safewords. I like using red and yellow, like a traffic light. Yellow means slow down. You want to stop the specific thing we are doing. We will check in, see what’s going on. Red means you want to stop everything. We will get you out of any bondage you are in, and make sure you are alright. How does that sound.”
Elena nodded and then, seeming to remember previous conversations, said, “I think those are all lovely rules. I’ll try my best to adhere to them.”
The vestibule of brownstone was lavishly decorated. Marble-topped tables holding silver trays of mail and parcels. Henry led her up another flight of stairs to a solid-looking door.
He put his key in the lock and then looked at her expectantly. Elena looked down, then around, then back at him, unsure of what he wanted. He nodded and opened the door, leading her in.
The apartment was large, furnished in dark wood with Victorian accents. There were three huge bookshelves and a large fireplace. He took her coat and led her to a large curved couch upholstered in rich burgundy velvet.
“I had high hopes, but here you’ve only just arrived, and you’ve broken the second rule.”
Elena swallowed. No panties. She thought she would go to the restroom and remove them, but she realized his hesitation as they entered was her chance. She started pulling up her dress, but he stopped her with a raised hand.
“I see we’ll have to start with the fundamentals. I think that may be for the best since we are still getting to know each other. Please, go to the end of the couch and lean over the arm.”
She walked over and did as he instructed, her desire fighting real fear for the first time. He followed her and as she bent over the soft cushioned arm of the couch he found the knot of her wrap-around dress and adeptly untied it. With a few quick movements, he removed her dress and stepped back to examine her.
“There, that’s closer to how a pet should be. It’s very pretty lingerie. Did you pick your most seductive pair? I’m afraid lacy underthings don’t do much for me. I like skin so much better.”
With that, he knelt and slipped off her shoes, then undid her bra and slipped it off. He unsnapped her garters, pulled down her stockings, and finally slipped off her panties. There was very little ceremony, and two minutes into being in his home she was completely nude and blushing.
“Ah, now we see what we have to work with. A pretty canvas. Before we get to a little lesson in following the rules, I’ll have to examine my prize.”
“That’s, um, something Victoria told me about. Examinations,” Elena said, looking over her shoulder at him.
Henry looked her in the eye and paused for a beat. “As much as I enjoy the whole sordid tale of how you tracked me down after lustily listening to your roommate’s story, I think it’s time for us to live in the moment. So here’s a new rule. No more talk about Victoria. Unless you want to get her on video chat.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “No. I mean, okay. I can follow that rule.” Henry eyed her. “I suppose we will see.”
Again, she was bent over the couch arm, this time filled with awareness of her nudity. Henry knelt behind her and she swallowed as he pushed her legs apart, looking between them clinically.
“Interesting. You certainly seem to be aroused by this whole endeavor. Your thighs are wet. You’re practically dripping. Are you always this wanton?”
Elena wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical. A bright slap on her ass told her that an answer was expected. “I-I’ve never really been in this situation before. You make me very wet, though, sir.”
His little chuckle made her face grow even hotter. “Good to know. That will certainly come in useful. You’re turning out to be a very useful girl.”
“Now, let’s start from the beginning. What are the rules?” He said, punctuating each of the last four words with a hard slap on her left butt cheek.
Elena had been spanked before, playfully, even somewhat seriously, but Henry’s hand was solid and practiced and it felt like a paddle. She took a few deep breaths, processing the pain, and then answered.
“No profanity. No panties. Um, and the traffic light system for safewords.”
There was a tense moment. “I’m going to spank you five times and hope it jogs your memory. Why don’t you count for me?”
Each hit grew in strength. It seemed impossible that it was just his hand. The pain was bright and hot and as much as it hurt, it also flooded her veins with masochistic desire. It was a strange mix of adrenaline and embarrassment and pure physical need. Her clit and nipples ached when he was done and she finally said “five.”
“I-um-those were the rules, sir? I-don’t-” she started, but he hit her again.
“You are struck so dumb by the needs of your wet pussy that you forgot the rule I just added moments ago?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m sorry, sir. And not to mention, um, the person, I’m not supposed to mention.”
He laughed and gave her one more swat. “Well, let’s hope you remember. Now, sit down on the couch, and let’s talk about how you came in with panties on.”
Elena stood quickly and spun around, sitting in the middle of the couch. She was shocked at the rhythm of the scene. How he seemed to know everything, where to hit her, what to ask her, and she seemed to be defenseless and brainless.
“I think since your pussy seemed to do the thinking we should focus on that for this punishment, don’t you?”
She didn’t know what to say but knew silence would get her another hit. She nodded, “yes, sir!”
“Yes, what?”
She swallowed. “I think with my pussy and so my pussy should be punished, sir,” she said without even thinking. The embarrassment of the statement struck her and she bit her lip and looked down. He lifted her chin. “Finally, a perfect answer.”
The shame mixed with a strange pride. She liked being perfect for him.
“Now, sit back and put your hands behind your head and spread your legs. You should be good at that.” Again, she did as he said immediately.
She looked stunning, with her hands behind her head, her large breasts thrust out. Her cheeks were red and her nipples were hard. Her face shone with lust and shame and need. Henry marveled at how easy it was to take her exactly where he wanted her. He was eager to see how she would react to the next bit.
He sat next to her, very close, and kissed her neck. His hand once again cradled her breasts, reveling in the softness. His other hand moved down her body, to her slight belly, to the soft well-manicured triangle of hair between her legs.
“Push out your pelvis for me,” he whispered into her ear. She did it quickly.
“Such an eager and needy spot. It’s a shame to discipline it, but rules are rules,” he said and gave the curved mound of her pussy a light slap. She jumped at the contact and he put his hand on her collar bone.
“Perhaps five little slaps. Each time I’d like you to say, ‘I will not cover my pretty and needy little pussy when I’m in Henry’s home.’”
The next slap was a little harder and she winced. It wasn’t a place she had been spanked before. She fumbled for the words. “I will not cover my, um, needy-” but was stopped with a hard pinch on her inner thigh that made her wince.
“I will not cover my pretty and needy little pussy when I’m in Henry’s home,” he repeated, slapping her inner thighs to accent each word.
The pain sent sparks of new desire through her. She repeated it, feeling silly and dirty. He slapped her pussy again and she pushed it out for him. Each slap was harder and his fingers lingered longer, almost slipping between the lips of her sex. She whined a little but was only rewarded with another slap.
They ended up with seven because she kept fumbling over the words. Looking down, below her pubic hair, he saw that the lips of her pussy were red and swollen. Her eyes were even wider than usual and her nipples were hard.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve never been hit there before.”
Henry attempted to maintain a hard dominant air, but he couldn’t help but smile. He stood and held out his hand. She took it and he led her to the bedroom.
His bed was a king, with pale gray sheets and a thick comforter in white with blue floral prints. He took one pillow from the bed and dropped it on the floor. He guided her to kneel down on one of them.
Leaning down, he whispered into her ear. “There, now you’re not taller than anyone.” She nodded, her hair falling over her eyes.
Henry dragged a small chest from the corner of the room and opened it, exposing neat coils of light brown rope. Rope wasn’t Henry’s main kink, but he had learned enough about it for it to be his go-to method of bondage.
Elena knelt very still as he wrapped the rope expertly around her, putting her arms up, crossing her wrists behind her head, then using her large breasts as anchors to tie a complex web around her.
It took perhaps fifteen minutes and in the end, she was immobile. Her chest and arms bound tightly, her breasts bare and held high by coiled rope around them. Her ankles tied to her hips, the rope cutting into her thick thighs deliciously. Her legs were opened slightly and her pussy was exposed, as he liked it.
Then he stepped back and admired both her loveliness and his handiwork.
He remembered the impetus of his meeting with Elena; the elusive Victoria. To worship Victoria was a difficult thing because she was such a wild spirit. She was hungry for life. She smiled and laughed when spanked. She goaded and teased and provoked Henry. She first had to be tamed and held down long enough to kneel before her in reverence.
Where Victoria had raw primal passion, Elena was graceful and poised. Standing next to her immobilized form, Henry felt like a sculptor looking over his latest work. She was a Grecian statue, exaggerated. To worship her would be easy. Though she may not have known it, Henry was sure many men and women worshiped her.
He knelt down next to her and kissed her neck. He groaned into her soft sweet-smelling skin. He buried his nose into her thick dark hair. He kissed her shoulders and slipped one hand into her hair. He tightened his fingers and she winced. With his other hand, he squeezed her breast again, delighting in the feel.
“Alright, now, I want to see what a good pet you can be. We are going to play a game. It’s called Polish My Shoe. Does that sound fun?”
He watched her face contort with confusion. She was immobile. She couldn’t do anything. How would she polish his shoes? As if reading her mind, he stood in front of her and stepped on the pillow she knelt on. He pushed his beautiful oxblood leather brogue between her legs. He tilted his foot up so that the top of the toe of his shoe pressed against her pussy.
“Now, can you be a good girl and grind on my shoe? Can you put on a show for me? I want to see how well you can concentrate for me.”
It was fascinating to watch her bound body move. Her wide hips angling and struggling. Her thick thighs pressed against the rope. She let out little whimpers and grunts with the effort and the pleasure of the contact with the smooth leather.
“I don’t know you that well, but I feel like you might be the kind of disgusting little pet that could get herself off rubbing against my shoe. Wouldn’t that be an impressive thing to see?”
She nodded but didn’t look him in the eye. He pulled her by the hair to face him. “You were being so good about verbal answers. Don’t let the cat get your tongue now,” he said, with a new more sadistic grin.
“I-I, um, I am the kind of pet that can get off on your shoe for you, sir,” she said, panting a bit. He felt her push down on his shoe a bit, finding leverage, finding an angle.
“Delightful. Remarkable even. I might have to add something to the game, in fact. Since you are so adept at getting yourself off, we can add another challenge.”
With that, he reached down and unzipped the fly of his slacks. He pulled his cock out slowly, hard and slightly curved. She groaned at the sight of it. He held it with one hand by the base and his other hand guided her forward by her hair.
Her breath caught. He felt her weight press down on his toe a little more. He could feel the heat of her pussy through the leather.
“Tell me exactly what you want to do,” he said. She looked into his eyes. “Whatever you want me to do, sir.” He chuckled. “Touché. Tell me exactly what I want right now.”
She swallowed. “You want me to grind on your beautiful shoe while I suck your beautiful cock, sir. You want me to come for you, rubbing my wet pussy against your shoe with your cock in my mouth.”
His smile faded a bit, not from displeasure, but from satisfaction. “What a joy to find such a perfect pet. Now, if you can do it as well as you can describe it, this evening will be off to a wonderful start.”
He pulled her head forward by her hair and she opened her mouth. He closed his eyes as his cock slipped into her mouth, warm and wet, and he imagined it slipping into her naked cunt.
Looking down at her, the decadent symmetry of her body, the way the rope cut into her thick curves, the way she squirmed and ground on his shoe, then the way her red lips were wrapped around his cock. It was hypnotic.
He pulled and pushed her on his cock, using her mouth, her face. She sucked as she rocked against his foot. There were moments when he lost himself in the silky feel of her tongue, he forgot himself until she choked and sputtered. Then he slowed, he let her catch her breath.
It was the third time he had choked her that she looked up at him. “Sir, may I come now, please? On-on your shoe? Please?”
The pure need in her eyes and the desperation in her voice were like a drug. Henry sighed with the power. “Yes, I would very much like that, my pet.”
She moaned and he slipped his cock back into her mouth. Her eyes widened. He watched her struggle to suck, to breathe, to move. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate and then her body shook a bit. She gasped and moaned on his cock. He mercifully let her breathe and she pressed her head against his hip.
“Coming for you, sir, fuck, coming-” she cried, and Henry watched enraptured by her bliss.
In a few moments, he knelt down next to her and stroked her cheek. “What a good girl you were. That was amazing. Who knew you would be such a talented pet,” he said with a broad bright smile. She smiled back weakly and he kissed her forehead.
“Now, let’s get you some water and untie you a bit, and then we can talk about how you are going to clean off my shoe and of course rule number one, which you broke. A discussion that will lead very well into the next way I’d like to use you,” he said sweetly, kissing her cheek and finally her lips.
She kissed him back, hungry to touch him in any way. He enjoyed her desperation and brushed back her hair and looked forward to the rest of the night.