Authors: Linnea May
Two
"No need to be shy."
He invites me to leave the elevator before him and I reluctantly follow his gesture, subtly fixing my thong in the process. I hear him chuckle behind me.
Much to my surprise, we are already there, stepping right into what appears to be his living room. A wide and open area reveals itself in front of my eyes, giving way to a giant glass front that takes up the entire wall in front of me. There is a rooftop terrace along the entire length of the panoramic glass wall. The left side of the hall-like room is used for a seating area with a suite of stylish designer furniture that looks comfortable, but doesn't seem to be used often. It's unnaturally clean and untouched. Book cases and a little desk, much smaller than the one in Nathan's office, take up the right part of the room. I sigh at the pleasantly cool temperature of the apartment. Liz and I do not have air conditioning in our cheap place on the other side of town. All we have is fans, lots of them. And they do not work the miracles that air conditioning achieves in here. It is almost chilly, but I welcome it greatly.
Everything is kept in white and black with a hint of grey here and there. He really has a thing for monochrome color schemes, it seems.
"Can I offer you a drink?" He asks, standing behind me.
I turn around and nod. "Yes, please."
"Come," he say, beckoning me to follow. "Pick one yourself."
I follow him as he approaches the seating area. There is a bar table that I had not noticed before. And unlike the sitting furniture, it looks well used. The table - also in black, with a glass plate - is well equipped with all kinds of hard liquor. Most of the bottles contain Whisky, as far as I can tell. And they all look expensive, I don't recognize a single brand.
"You like Vodka," he assesses.
I nod. "Yes, I prefer it to Whisky. But..."
He turns around, raising his eyebrows in question. "Yeah?"
"Well," I reluctantly say. "I usually mix it with something and never drink it straight... and I don't know what's good."
"I'm sure you don't," he says, with a matter-of-fact tone that irritates me a little. "But I don't think it's a good idea for you to be drinking Vodka, anyways. Not yet."
Now I am the one who is raising her eyebrows. "Okay. What am I allowed to drink then?"
"Something light," he replies. "Do you like bitter orange and rhubarb?"
I nod. "Sure."
He fetches two glasses from underneath the table and starts pouring a light red liqueur in them. An aperitif, I assume. Just a little bit, the width of two fingers, adding soda water until the glasses are almost full. He adds one ice cube to each and turns around, offering one of the drinks to me.
"An Italian aperitif," he comments as I take the glass. "Made of bitter orange, gentian, rhubarb and a little cinchona. Tastes a bit bitter. The perfect drink for hot summer days."
I smile and hide the fact that I don't know half of the ingredients he just mentioned. "Cheers!" is all that comes to mind.
He mirrors my smile and we clink glasses. I take a cautious sip, while he observes me, curious for my reaction. It tastes bitter alright, very bitter actually. But refreshing, just as he said. And just like his kisses, the drink contains a subtle sweetness.
"I like it."
"It's very popular in Europe," he says. "Usually comes along with some orange, but I was too lazy for that today. I have other things on my mind."
He casts a seductive look my way, narrowing his eyes as he takes another sip without taking them off me.
I gulp and smile helplessly. It takes a lot of effort not to forget my intentions. We still need to talk before anything happens.
"Please have a seat," he offers as if he can read my mind. I follow his gesture and sit down on the designer sofa in the seating area. He joins me, sitting extremely close. I shiver as his knee touches mine. Suddenly, I am very aware of my nakedness underneath my dress.
And he starts the conversation by making it worse.
"I know you probably want to settle a few things before we start playing," he says in his ever so confident and calm way. "But I'd like you to take off your panties first."
He says it in such a nonchalant way. As if it was the most normal thing to ask of someone after you have just sat down to have a conversation. My eyes widen and another rush of blood finds its way on my cheeks.
He reciprocates my confused look with a stern and expectant expression. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm... what you're asking is just a little bit-"
"I'm not asking," he interrupts. "I'm telling you to."
I only dare to hesitate for another moment before I put my glass down on the black coffee table in front of the sofa and get up. He does not take his eyes off me, as I obediently reach beneath my dress and pull down my thong, realizing with embarrassment that it is sticking to my center. I let it fall down to my feet and step out of it as elegantly as possible.
He smiles and nods approvingly. "Good girl. Now, give it to me."
I bend down to pick my thong up and hand it over to him. He takes it and pushes it up to his nose, taking a deep breath, inhaling my scent while his eyes are still fixated on me. Of course, I blush at seeing him do that. I don't move until he tells me to sit down again. As I seat myself, I make sure for my dress to cover my behind so I am not sitting on his furniture with my bare behind. It might not bother him, but I am scarily aware of the wetness between my legs.
"I just want you to know what you are about to agree to," he says. "To feel it. Every minute you are with me."
I nod. "Yes, Sir."
"So, are you?" He asks.
"Am I what?"
"Agreeing," he says. "Do you still adhere to the Yes you sent me?"
"Yes, absolutely," I reply. "But I do have a few things I would like to clear up first."
He raises his right eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "Sure, go ahead."
"I am very grateful for your offer to pay for my schooling, and I am willing to accept it," I begin. "But I don't want you to cover all of my living expenses. I have a part time job and I would like to continue earning money on my own. And I won't rely on you paying for everything - I will still try for other scholarships. I don't like the idea of completely depending on you. Especially when..."
I pause for a moment, thinking about a way to phrase what I want to say without insulting him or seeming ungrateful.
"Yes?" He presses.
"Especially when you could end it at any time." I conclude, catching his unyielding gaze. "What if I displease you along the way? What would happen?"
He puts his drink next to mine on the table and leans over to me, taking my left hand with both of his.
"That is a very reasonable concern you have," he says. "And I am glad you mention it."
I can feel myself tense up, getting a little worried about what he might say next.
"I can understand your concern of me cutting you off before you finish your degree," he continues. "And I can promise you, that will not happen. I will give it to you in writing. If you disappoint me, I will punish you. It's called training, baby girl."
He smirks and plants a little kiss on my cheek before he continues.
"However, I will expect you to work hard. I want you to thrive in your studies, and if that part time job gets in the way of our play time and your studies too much, I will ask you to cut down on your hours, understand?"
"Yes, Sir. But-"
"No but," he interrupts. "I have told you before, I admire your determination and desire for independence. But if you are to be my sub, you will have to let go of a certain degree of sovereignty - not only in the bed room."
I lower my head, staring at my fiddling hands on my lap. He shifts closer to me, lifting my chin with the tip of his index finger, gently turning my head around, so I am looking at him.
"You will be mine," he whispers, intently staring at me. "I will own you. It is your duty to please me and receive pleasure in return."
"What if I can't?" I ask. "I mean... please you? What if I fail in doing that?"
He subtly shakes his head. "I can trust my instincts. You have already proven yourself worthy, baby girl. And I know you are wet right now. You are trembling with lust every time I see you. Melting beneath my touch. I can feel your body burning with sensual heat. Everything you are is calling for me to touch you, play with you, fuck you. You want nothing more than to be taken by me right now - isn't that right?"
Everything he says is true - and it takes all my effort to hide it. I am shivering, panting, feverish with lust. God, I hate how right he is. And he knew exactly what he was doing when he asked me to get rid of my panties. My hunger for him is only increased by the nakedness between my dress.
"Yes, maybe." I whisper in a very, very low tone.
"We have a connection, baby girl," he continues. "This doesn't happen often. It would be a sin not to follow this calling."
I smile at him. I would have dismissed what he is saying just a few weeks ago. It is fairy tale talk. I have always been sure that there is no such thing as attraction at first sight, a strong allurement that is almost painful to withstand. But now I am unable to deny that there is - and that I find myself spellbound.
"No one can know," I randomly whisper.
He looks at me in confusion.
"I mean," I try to clarify. "About this. I don't want anyone to know about this... agreement."
He smiles. "Of course not, little girl. I like to do things with discretion."
"Good," I simply say.
"There's one thing you need to know, though." He adds.
"Yes?"
"I don't like to sleep with people," he says, looking at me with a firm but apologetic expression. "You won't stay overnight. I will have Frank bring you home when we're done."
I nod. "Sure."
I cannot deny that I am a little hurt by his words. He just pulled me in so close a few moments ago with what he said about us having a special connection - and then he says he wants me to leave as soon as we are done playing for the day.
On the other hand - I too prefer to sleep in my own bed, by myself. And at least I won't have to worry about catching the last train or anything. This is actually a sweet deal, even if it stings to hear him say it.
"One more thing I need to know," he adds, looking at me with a serious face. "Are you on birth control?"
I nod. "Yes, of course."
"And are you clean? Healthy?" He asks.
I nod again. "I've always been very careful about that."
"Good," he says, clearly relieved. "Me too. I have my latest results here, if you want to see them."
"No, I'm good. I trust you."
"You can, baby girl," he says. "I really need to fuck you, bare, without worries."
I smile. "I would like that."
He remains in his business like serious manner. "Do you know everything you need to know for now?"
I nod. "Yes, Sir. For now."
He looks pleased. "Good. I will prepare a contract and have you sign it."
I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry for the trouble."
"Don't be," he says. "I never do this without a contract."
He leans back, assessing me from further away.
"Will you trust me without the paper work for now or shall we delay our first real play session until the contract is written and signed?"
I look at him with an
are-you-fucking-kidding-me
expression.
He grins. "I thought so."
Three
"Get up," is his first order.
"Yes, Sir." I do as I am bid and look at him expectantly.
He leans back on the sofa and observes me with an intense gaze, scanning me from head to toe.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," he assesses. "Get rid of it. Everything."
I smile and nod. "Yes, Sir."
I slip out of my shoes first and neatly place them next to sofa, hesitating just for a split second before I pull my dress over my head. I fold it with care and place it on the sofa next to him.
"Good girl, that didn't take much time now, did it," he praises. "See, that's why I don't want you to wear too much when you come here. You'll be naked in no time, anyways."
I smile at him and ignore the natural inclination of covering myself, because I know he wouldn't appreciate it. He soaks in the sight of me, standing in front of him completely naked, exposed and ready to do whatever he wants me to.
He gets up himself and takes my hand. "Follow me."
We are leaving the living room area. He is leading me to a hallway, pulling my naked self behind him like prey. The hallway is painted in white and decorated with black and white pictures of tied up women in black frames, similar to the ones in his office, but smaller. There are two doors on the left and two doors on the right plus another one at the end of the hallway - and that is the one he is leading me to.
He stops in front of it and turns around. "On your knees."
I obey immediately.
"Keep looking at me," he snaps as I instinctively lowered my head again.
"Yes, Sir," I whisper, raising my eyes to meet his.
"I want you to always enter this room on all fours behind me," he says. "Unless specified otherwise. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good girl."
He turns around and opens the door. It reveals a spacious bedroom, just as I expected. Monochrome colors, similar to all other interior spaces that belong to him. But this one is darker. It is the first place where black and dark gray are the dominant colors and white is only used for decorative accents.
He steps in and looks at me expectantly. "Come in."
I crawl across the threshold, hollowing my back as good as possible, because I know it looks better this way. The flooring of the room is black laminate, exquisite as everything in this home. And surprisingly warm, despite the room temperature being equally cool as it was in the living room.
"Sit there," he orders, pointing to an area next to the door. "Hands on your knees, facing me."
I do as he orders and regard him with anticipation.
"Stay like that," he says, turning his back to me. He walks towards a black dresser on the right side of the room, leaving me a moment to assess the room. It is definitely the biggest bedroom I have ever been to. Yet, the bed, that is placed in front of me, is not very big itself. A double, maybe even a small double. And there are no pillows or blankets on it, just a mattress with a silver silk sheet. It is obviously not intended for sleeping. The frame is made of black steel, with bars at the head and the foot - perfect to fix handcuffs or rope. The windows on the left side are completely shielded with black and white curtains.
And there is a St. Andrews cross right next to me. My mouth unwillingly opens as I make the discovery, but I am soon distracted by him.
"We won' be using that today," he says, now standing in front of me, holding black rope in his hands. "No need to be scared."
"Who says I am scared?" I ask, looking up at him with a cheeky smirk. He smiles, shaking his head. "Don't get too cocky with me, baby girl. Up with your wrists."
I lift my arms and present my wrists to him, holding them closely together. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl," he whispers as he ties my arms together with quick and skillful moves. "You wanted me to tie you up, right? Like the women in my pictures."
I nod sheepishly. "Yes, Sir."
"Well, that's not going to happen today," he says, tying the first of many knots. "We will start slowly."
I silently nod and observe his hands while he ties my wrists together. It is such a difference to what that gym guy Brad had done when I asked him to tie me up. Nathan knows what he is doing, and he enjoys every knot, every noose he is fixing around my wrists with his strong hands. The procedure itself is so intimate and sensual it makes my heart jump with the thrills of anticipation.
He holds the long end of the rope in his hand when he is done and gently pulls my hands up to him. "Get on your feet."
I follow his pull and get up on my feet. He smiles as I stand in front of him, naked, with my wrists tied together and him holding the rope like a leash.
Without saying a word he turns around and approaches the bed, me following closely behind, led by the leash.
"On the bed," he orders when we are standing next to it.
I look up him, unsure how he wants me positioned. "On my knees, Sir?"
"On your back," he says.
I follow his wish, trying to move as elegantly as possible, which is not easy, because he is still in control of my hands, holding them up at the rope and thus leaving little leeway for me to use them in assistance. I sit down on my behind and let my upper body fall back on the silk sheet beneath me. He moves my hands up above my head and ties them to the black bed frame.
My eyes follow his every movement, trying to catch his gaze, but he is completely focused on tying me up properly. Only after he is done and satisfied with every single knot, he steps back and examines me.
"Perfect," he whispers. "You have no idea how beautiful you look, little girl."
He comes closer, leaning over me with an appreciative smile. "I neglected those gorgeous tits of yours last time we played, didn't I?"
I nod, whispering "Yes, Sir" with a low voice.
"I will make up for that today," he promises. He walks back to the dresser and fetches something from one of the upper drawers. Something small. I cannot see what it is, as he keeps it hidden in his fist when he walks back to the bed.
He is still fully dressed, but quickly steps out of his shoes before he climbs on the bed.
"Spread your legs," he orders.
I comply, once again blushing with embarrassment due to my exposure. He kneels between my knees and places whatever he got from the dresser on the sheet behind his back, snapping at me while he does: "Wider! Spread them as far as you can."
I do as I am told, opening my legs in front of him. He moves closer, still kneeling between my legs. I can feel his right hand between at my center, gently pushing on my wetness with his palm.
"You are glowing with heat, baby girl," he assesses. "I need to get a taste of you, you know that right? I need to taste your lust for me."
I blush, subtly nodding. "Yes, Sir."
He smiles and bends over, planting soft kisses on my mound, slowly moving lower, until his lips reach mine. I flinch as he starts stroking my slit with his tongue, taking a careful taste at first, getting more demanding with every lick. He hums with relish and uses his hands to spread my folds. I moan when he finds my clit, encircling it, moving closer to the center with every loop until he hits it, sending waves of intense pleasure up my spine. I arch my back, spreading my legs as far as possible and moving my hip closer to him. He knows exactly what he is doing, worshipping my pink button with unfamiliar care and devotion.
His hands move upwards, along the sides of my belly, causing a little tickle that distracts me for a moment, until he finds my breasts. He gently cups them at first, then kneads them with force. I wince when he finds my nipples, taking them between his thumb and index finger. He starts squeezing them with unexpected force. It hurts. His brute pinching causes me to groan and flinch in a mixture of pleasure and pain I still have very little experience with.
He straightens up without taking his hands from my nipples, leaning over to examine me. I catch his intense gaze, looking at him through partly closed eyes, dizzy with lust.
"You like this, don't you baby girl," he says.
Instead of giving him a reply, I whimper and nod, helplessly convolving under his strong hands. He pinches my nipples between his fingers and turns them, releasing a wave of pain that readily mingles with my pleasure.
"Don't... stop," I breath in despair when does dare to take his hands away.
Nathan smiles triumphantly. "Don't worry."
He reaches behind his back, fetching what he had put there before. But this time he lets me see what it is.
Nipple clamps. Cute, little nipples clamps, decorated with black feathers. My eyes widen in fright.
He ignores it and bends over, focusing all his attention on my right boob now. He kneads and squeezes my breast and leans over to takes my nipple between his lips, greedily sucking on it. I close my eyes and push myself up as good as I can with my hands tied to the bed while he continues to worship my nipple, using his tongue to play with it.
Eventually, he withdraws and replaces his tongue with one of the clamps. A fierce pain burns through my skin as he slowly closes the clamp around my nipple, making sure it sits tight before he removes his hand. Throbbing pulsations of pain continue to run through my body as the clamp tortures my nipple.
And then he moves over to the left side, repeating what he had done on the right. It hurts just as much, starting with a fierce pain that cuts through my flesh, followed by dull waves of ache that soon turns into delicious pressure.
I roll my eyes back, panting heavily while I relish the sweet torment on my nipples. Tears are running down my face, resulting from the sharp pain he inflicted when he first put the clamps on.
He gently cups my breasts, holding me in place as I moan and squirm, overwhelmed with dizzy arousal.
"Good girl, take it all in," he whispers with a calm soothing voice. "Savor it."