His Latest Acquisition Read online

  With her face forming a pained grimace, she gasped, “Please, sir, now…”

  “Now, kari,” he gave permission, then sat back to watch the climax move through her body, viewing the signs of satisfaction rippling across her face. From the agony of that first hard spasmodic leap, to the tremulous vibrations of those thereafter, until she was floating, happy and mesmerized by the physical results.

  He found her submission profound and what he needed. She gave his body new life, and at that moment, a raging hard-on.

  He could take her in the restroom and use her—something that he’d done with slaves before. But his erection would calm, as would kari’s present state of post ecstatic bliss. He’d wait to satisfy himself until later when he could take her exactly as he wanted.

  “Let me see your hand,” he said.

  She blushed again as she withdrew the cum-soaked fingers from her cunt.

  “Lick them,” he directed.

  She did so coyly, running them around her mouth as though she were eating a lollipop.

  She was a sassy brat, cute, and obviously finagling. His mind was full of wicked thoughts concerning her. No, he wouldn’t wait to punish her breasts—they’d be marked before the night was gone.

  “In the alley, kari.”

  He moved from his chair and pulled her with him into the crowd that jammed the bar. They snaked their way through, bumping bodies with half-drunk patrons, and finally freed themselves through a side door leading to the alley behind the building.

  The ripe air smelled of fish, fried food and beer. She was half in subspace—that sexual and abandoned place of surrender—and only half-rational, feeling drunk as if she’d just poured a bottle of wine down her throat. Justin felt the same inebriation of sensation; his cock had hardly softened since he felt her cum.

  He pushed her deep into the alley, between broken buildings in this marginal district of old warehouses and abandoned businesses, through a tiny path where verdant trees, fully leafed out from thick spring rain, survived the climate of decay, where the world still teemed in wicked glory. Life throbbed on, the way their crotches throbbed—hot and moist like the night.

  Between buildings, under fuzzy stars and swaying trees, Justin pressed kari’s ass to a wall, backed off and faced her with a scowl. They were alone in the deserted back street, with the sound of the bistro music still in their heads, and the smell of bistro smoke and food still tickling their nostrils.

  “Raise your skirt,” he ordered.

  She obeyed, shaking nervously, but happy. Moist cum stuck to the black fabric, shimmering in the dim streetlights from one block over. Her pretty pussy still glistened; it was too wet of a night for the thick cream to dry fast.

  Justin smiled. What a slut! His thoughts of her were as crude as his plans. “Let me see your breasts,” he followed the fantasy to its rightful end—seeing the fleshy mounds in his sights and ready to be beaten.

  She was easy. Without the restraints inside the bistro to force appropriate behavior, she fell into a wanton state…assuming she’d be alone with her new master, privately displaying herself with the risk of exposure high enough to give her an added thrill.

  Two buttons undone, her breasts were bare with the extravagant flesh trembling. Pale nipples poked the air as they drew tight… tiny, but tempting to her master’s eye. He was salivating, thinking he’d have to bed her soon—or better yet, tie her to a rack where he could torture the tempting nubs with his teeth.

  “Pinch your nipples,” he whispered the order.

  kari squeezed them with a kittenish teasing look in her eyes. She licked her lips like an exotic dancer.

  “Harder.” He wanted them to hurt.

  Her sweet sensuous face began to change; and she bit her lip as the two fingers pressed the tiny sliver of flesh more vigorously.

  “Harder, slave,” he egged her on.

  She took a deep breath, rolled her eyes, dug with her short painted nails into the buds, and breathed out the pain.

  “It’s never hard enough when you do it yourself, is it?”

  “No, sir,” she was begging him with her expression because she wanted it harder.

  But she wouldn’t Dom the night. If he allowed her to lead him now, she’d never find her submissiveness with him. He’d mark her in his own way, exactly as kari hoped he would.

  Pulling a tit whip from his jacket, Justin watched her reaction as the leather falls came into view—two dozen thin strips of cut hide dangling from the wooden handle. The short simple whip was right for marking tender skin. It left welts, thin ones that would rise above the milky breadth of her breasts like angry streamers of fire.

  “Hands above your head.”

  As she obeyed the order, he listened to her first soft whimper—that sign of satisfaction finding her submissive prayers answered.

  “If I’m any good, these marks will last. But then I don’t know your flesh well and how it takes punishment.”

  “It marks easy, sir, but welts fade fast.”

  “Well, then, I’ll see that they don’t.”

  She wanted to smile, but that would look too eager, too inviting. She kept her scared rabbit expression, her body clenching as the first strike smacked against her right breast. She gasped, the sound inaudible. The next strike landed on her left breast with the same muted, pained and welcome response.

  Letting the whip lag in his hand, Justin moved forward to inspect the wounds where they appeared as splashes of pink color.

  She peered through the night, longingly without saying what she understood. She wouldn’t be that bold, but Justin didn’t need her to tell him that these stripes wouldn’t last. He backed away and struck again, this time four times with increasing intensity so that her last gasp was audible enough for him to hear, and the resulting color of the wounds was more to his liking.

  Satisfied, Justin pressed his hand to her cunt and began to finger the wet warmth, liking the feel of her rings, her hairless pubic mound and the way her clit throbbed as he pressed his finger against the inflated nub.

  She gasped again, this time she moved into him with her bare breasts rubbing against his chest. He could feel the fire at her nipples even through his shirt.

  “Ah, sir,” her soft whimpers aroused him.

  “Cum, slut, I don’t have all night.”

  Her body bucked against his a second later, her cunt grinding into the hand that played it. He pushed her off with the hole still dripping before the last of her spasms died away.

  “Give me your hands, kari,” he said, while pocketing the whip.

  He had rope inside his jacket, enough to bind her hands behind her. Jerking her about, he wrapped them tight, then jerked her back and pushed her to the asphalt.

  “Suck!” he ordered as he withdrew his cock from his pants.

  She didn’t need commands to follow this through. Her mouth opened naturally, swallowing the thick meat deep into her throat. She worked the shaft with her hungry lips groveling in the nastiness of the back alley blowjob.

  Justin could hardly grab her short spiked hair, but with a firm hand behind her head, he controlled her efforts, forcing the erection deeper, and then pulling out to let her lick his heady musk. She understood his rhythms and worked her lips eagerly until he spewed cum down her throat with the last of it dribbling across her mouth.

  “You want it rough, slave. I will oblige.”

  She looked up at him, face glistening with his juices. “Thank you, sir.”

  She was grateful. He could see that in her eyes, as a look of relaxed sensuality stared back at him.

  Pulling the bound blonde to her feet, he caught her warm body against his chest as she stumbled into him. They hadn’t kissed… and they wouldn’t now, even if their lips had met almost by accident. It wasn’t time to be tender. kari needed something else—a darker substance that roused his dark demonic passions. She fueled his need, and he answered hers.

  This would be a good match.

  Pushed away, ka
ri fell back against the wall, limbs and torso slack against the scratchy brick—head cocked, wrists bound, breasts still bare and cunt exposed. She was the perfect portrait of submissive abdication—sensuous, tender and wanting… even now… even after all he gave her.

  She stared at him in wonder with a dozen questions bubbling inside her cum weary mind.

  Would he walk her from the alley to his car? Like this? Half naked? Hands bound? Face smeared with his juice.

  Would he require the public demonstration of her submissiveness?

  Would he expose her lust to an uneducated world?

  Her mind reeled on.

  Justin was parked on the edge of the lot just outside the bistro. He could force her through the alley to the car with little significant exposure—and yet, it seemed like a pretty gutsy chance to take…even at this rowdy bistro.

  He sensed her apprehension, and after gauging her rising fear, he smiled. “No, slave, I won’t compromise you that way. There are other ways to exhibit you that are much safer for us both.”

  After buttoning her tee shirt, he pulled the Lycra skirt over her rounded hips, then grabbed her arms and led her through the back street maze and across the parking lot to his car.

  Her breasts ached with a good hurt. Her excitement peaked again as she wondered if she’d be seen. Although there was no one there to see her climb in the car with her hands tied behind her, the possibility of being observed served its purpose. Justin Booker could collar her now. There would be no more questions, no debate. She knew where she belonged.

  Justin untied the knots before he dropped kari in front of her apartment.

  “Be ready when I contact you,” he told her.

  “Yes, sir.” Eagerness and lust were written in the subtle lines and shadows of her pretty face. Above the buttons on her tee shirt, the marks from the whip peeked out as a reminder of the night’s adventure. She wanted to drop to her knees right there to honor him. But that kind of groveling would have to wait.

  “I’ll be sending you further instructions through email,” he said as the car door slammed closed.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a winsome, longing smile.

  “Now, get on,” he waved his hand. “I have places to go.”

  Midnight

  The hot night closed in around her. Humid air was all there was to breathe, and very little stirred. There was no wind. Just an endless, restless, misery, too stifling to sleep.

  Emily Booker viewed the computer screen seeing vivid pictures float before her aching eyes, while something wonderful brewed between her legs. High in her crotch, her sex was alive, thrilled and seeking. She tumbled through a dozen websites, feeling as if she were traveling downward—like Alice through the looking glass, falling, somersaulting in an ever deeper spiral. Or like a mole digging her way into an underworld few could see. The night was black around her; just the monitor lit the dim room. Her body appeared as little more than shadows…capricious, ephemeral and fleeting…as if she were nothing but grey dust that would blow away with the first faint gust of air.

  Latex gleamed hot against the screen; leather seethed cool force and endurance. The lips were twisted, the faces soft, the bodies yielding and bold. She jumped from image to image feeling desperate and needy. She didn’t understand this about herself…her physical reply was too astounding to make sense. Like a dam suddenly burst, her insides seemed to fall out all around her as she took a nosedive leap into this forbidden territory of her mind. Reality smacked her in the face…where mere fantasy had been enough; she saw that it was not enough for these nameless people in the strange poses.

  She backed out, pulled away from the Internet chaos, and checked email. Nothing there, she poked about the computer, stumbling into oddly marked files… and more images…

  Her eyes were bleary, she needed sleep. But it was still too hot, and the mesmerizing pictures had no end. One file opened, then another. She peered at them confused; her heart beating scared…the faces, the postures… Where had these come from? She hacked her way around this smaller world… her world, Justin’s world, and the regions of their own computer that should be as familiar to her as the paintings on the study walls and her own sculptures sitting like dutiful children beside her.

  And the letters… passwords, encrypted files… she began to type… dates… names… one possibility, then another… old ones they used together… she got inside his head… thinking how he’d think… possessed by her need to triumph. The files opened. He could have been more creative… she thought smugly as she began to peer inside her husband’s private world.

  Emily’s eyes ached more while her body felt like flames… the words, the language… damaging… incriminating… amazing… unbelievable. Her mind did not compute but her body breathed with heavy lust.

  A hand inside her shorts, she fingered her cunt while reading a note from a woman to an unknown correspondent… it couldn’t be Justin… she was about to be whipped, thinking to that last moment while she lay bound and waiting to serve a master she adored.

  Imploding on herself, Emily’s fingers raced, catching up with the steamed heat pouring from the valley of her cumming crotch. Over the edge in a rush of physical pain and splendor, her mind then blanked She breathed afraid, and was too sleepy to stay awake, too nervous to see more. Turning away from the blinking light as she powered down the machine, she collapsed in bed with her clothes rippling from the breezy fan that stirred the humid air.

  ***

  In another part of town…Dylan Kincaid flipped through the Guild’s property files…looking for the woman in his imagination. She was elusive. He knew eventually she’d reveal herself. He could feel this one in his bones and he was good with premonitions. He gazed at doty…she was a pretty sight. He’d even seen her worked over a few months before when she belonged to Christopher Barons. She took ruthless beatings…though she needed them more than she loved them. Her character was unruly, even brash…too much for him to handle. He’d try again another night.

  Chapter Three

  In the afternoon one week later….

  His email was simple…

  6625 Westerfield St. Second Floor, end of corridor

  Three p.m.

  Wait for further instructions

  The warehouse district surrounding the brick building was reminiscent of the neighborhood surrounding the bistro where they first met. At first glance, the blonde kari felt her tummy flutter and a moist warmth arise from between her thighs. A southerly wind whipped through the vacant streets spreading a warm breeze, creating warm chills running wildly through the woman’s body. In another time, the brick red building would have been a gem, housing some fancier manufacturer amid plainer business buildings… not tool and die like the grey concrete across the street, or small engine parts like the yellow brick in the next block down. Standing on the sidewalk gazing upwards, kari could imagine many things about this building’s past…but she could not imagine what would transpire once she crossed the threshold.

  Now, as dry leaves swirled the lonely sidewalk, the old brick looked tired and scared of destruction… sliding too far down in Old World ambience to be appealing for renovation. At least that was the impression in kari’s mind.

  Inside, however, the facts proved different.

  She tried the door… heart thumping unreasonably hard. She’d been through times like this before, though now her memory escaped her. What remained was the sweetest fear, a funny kind of rapture as it swept the plains of her unknowing insides. What was this place in the twenty-first century world? How would the world of her S&M dreams be realized? She hardly knew the man…just a referral, several long emails, which could be truth or bullshit, and then one night in a bistro and the alley behind.

  The first chills of fantasy proved to be the best… but nothing had faded in the mystery and anticipation she associated with this master and his schemes.

  Would they meet here often? she wondered.

  She tried the door, finding t
he latch difficult to open, but with a gentle shove, the thick wood gave, opening to the black beyond and a heavy aroma of musk that engulfed her senses. She was reminded of some old institution from some years ago. Black and white ceramic tiles lined the entry corridor and its walls halfway up, chipped and decaying. Her fantasy was still engaged.

  Second floor… she looked up the staircase to her left, up the banister. The wood had kept its lustrous sheen with the thick layers of varnish too durable to age in a few short decades. Her fingers warmed with the touch. Oddly, the wood was not as dusty as it should have been. Perhaps the building was often used for such indecent purposes as hers.

  The climb, the wait, the maddening silence of the surrounding air…

  Nothing seemed to stir but her feet, her heart and her fears. At the second floor landing, she faced the frosted glass door, and taking the doorknob in hand, turned the rattling glass handle until it finally gave way. Another corridor, another dreary, expectant walk. Her loins joined in the madness—feeling far too sexual for reason. Her stomach soured. Her forehead throbbed; her temples beat hot. She tried to dry her sweaty hands, wiping them on her dress.

  The collar around her throat pressed against the skin too tightly to be comfortable. But were collars supposed to be comfortable? To ease a slave or remind them who they were? Fit food for debate… but a debate for another day.

  Today, every piece of clothing, every breath of air, every thought registering in her brain irritated her senses. She wanted to run… but she wouldn’t run.

  At the end of the corridor, she stood before another frosted glass door and waited… just as the note commanded. Her heart, her head, her hands all throbbed hot.

  “kari, put your hands behind you.”

  The order came abruptly, out of the empty air. She sighed relieved, recognizing the voice of her new master. Justin Booker stood behind her, running his hands along her back and down her shoulders.