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Subject: {ASSM} A New Story
Date: Sun, 23 Apr 2000 20:10:08 -0400
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The Weekend, by SirMiniver (M/F, nc?, Bond)
(for Rebecca)
Copyright by SirMiniver. Permission is freely granted to post on any
site that does not charge for entrance, as long as proper attribution is
given. The story should not be read by anyone under the legal age to
read sexually explicit stories, or by anyone in a location where it is
illegal to read such stories. Send comments, inquiries, requests, and
criticisms to: SirMiniver@hotmail.com
+++++++++++++
He walked into the restaurant, an apparition from another time.
Rebecca, who was working her third straight late shift and hated it,
looked up and nearly fainted. A viking.....A Viking? She laughed
aloud, then stopped herself.
The man stood strong and attractive, at least 5'10" with wide shoulders
and what had to be a muscular chest under his shirt. It looked like
linen, sort of dust colored, with a v-neck opening. She let her eyes
travel down as the receptionist spoke with the man. He wore a broad
leather belt and leather pants, above a pair of leather boots that came
up to his knees. All of it dark brown. All of it decorated with
colorful markings -- runes, she knew. Off the belt hung what looked like
an ax, but in a likewise decorated leather sheath of some sort.
She watched him follow the receptionist toward her section. He barely
glanced at Vicki, but raked his eyes over the empty tables. He
chose...a corner booth, dark, secluded, and sat there. Vicki looked at
him, shrugged and gave him his menu. He looked up and smiled, thanking
her, then looked straight at Rebecca.
Rebecca caught herself staring into his eyes. His gaze held hers for a
long moment, judging, testing. Then he smiled at her....the grin of a
carnivore, a hungry animal. Rebecca approached the table and went into
her usual routine, a sort of comic patter that generally loosened things
up. She had never been afraid to meet and befriend strangers and almost
always got large tips because of her warmth. This time, though, the
gaze from the stranger was steady and firm. He was polite enough,
listening to her chatter, but he did not seem to return the friendship
implicit in it. He seemed more aloof, above her. After she finished,
he reached out and touched her hand while he ordered a cup of coffee and
a hamburger, medium, with a side salad. His voice was not a request,
more a demand, politely framed, but nevertheless. Rebecca shivered
inside, an electric thrill running through her.
+++++++++++++
When Tom walked into the restaurant, he realized he was hungry...for
food and adventure. He had come from dance practice...good solid
country dances that always involved heavy flirting. Two of the younger
Barony members had come on to him heavily, almost like a contest to see
which woman could bed him first. But he knew them both...flirts who
never came across in bed as they did on the dance floor. One was still
very much the innocent teenager, despite being in her mid-20's; she was
a scared rabbit if he tried anything beyond a straight fuck. The other
was a cocktease for sure...at least an hour of talk and necking had
gotten him a handjob the one time he'd called her bluff. He was not in
the mood for their games tonight.
He had danced the Viking callouts he had devised, a few rounds of
blacknag and Miller in the Middle, a very interesting hole-in-the-wall,
and then he'd called it quits. He had to work tomorrow, he said, even
though it was his "weekend" -- Wednesday & Thursday -- his days off from
the Borders where he was manager of the Human Sexuality section. So he
came to the restaurant, hungry, in more ways than one. He scanned the
receptionist. "Vicki" her tag said, and she was not for him. A little
overweight and quite assertive. He sighed inwardly. He knew he was a
sight in full garb, the leathers tonight, designed for dance,
flirtation and domination, not submission. He needed a submissive woman
to play his game tonight, and everything about his stance and carriage
said so. He followed Vicki (Gods, what a name, he thought, she's
definitely a Victoria if I ever saw one.) into a deserted section and
chose a booth for himself. She stopped, started to redirect him to a
small table, but she saw his eyes and shrugged. He smiled as she handed
him his menu. She moved away, looking at the waitress for the section
and shrugging again.
He glanced at his menu, already knowing what he would eat. Then he
looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes. She had said her name was
Rebecca and she was spouting a little comedy line at him, trying to
loosen him up. He smiled, but maintained his contact with her, letting
her know that he was the boss. His eyes raked over her...petite, maybe
5'3 or 5'4, slim, except for a very nice pair of breasts. Her nipples
already were visible under the starched white blouse she wore. Her legs
were very nice, naked under the short red skirt. He knew that she was
just right for his plans for tonight. He hoped she would be
compliant. He tested her. He actually interrupted her, taking her hand
in his and giving his order. From her reaction, he knew, immediately,
that his hungers would all be sated tonight. She physically shivered
under his touch and whispered, "Yes, Sir" clearly when he made his
order. Just from that and the slight downward motion of her eyes, he
knew...and she did, too.
++++++++
During the meal, Rebecca stayed near the customer. He had not given her
a name, so she called him "Sir" throughout, checking on him every few
minutes. There was no one else in her section, so she hovered nearby,
watching his every move. His hair, long brown, to the middle of his
back, was wavy, streaked with gray. His beard, cropped short, was also
going gray. And his eyes, steely blue, gazed into her very soul, when
she dared meet them with hers. It seemed that every time she looked at
him, she became more aroused. She found herself fading into a little
fantasy....
She was a maiden, dressed in a chemise and an overgown, cowering in a
corner as Viking raiders plundered her village. She was trying to hide,
for she knew, KNEW, what these marauders did to innocents like herself.
She would be raped and kept as a plaything or sold into sexual bondage
by some fiendish pagan lord. She was crying, trying to be a small as a
mouse, when the door burst open and the warrior loomed over her,
laughing, bloody sword in hand. She screamed......
"Rebecca," the voice commanded, "Can I have the check?" She woke from
her reverie and saw him grinning at her. She was embarrassed and
blushed deeply. He looked into her eyes.
"He can read my thoughts. He knows my fantasies," she thought to
herself. She hustled to get the check, and handed it to him, with a
polite, almost submissive whisper, "I'm sorry I was slow, Sir, please
forgive me."
Tom smiled and whispered, "Of course, Rebecca." Now he was certain. He
took a ten from his pouch for the meal, and added twenty for her. He
also wrote a brief note, "At the bar, in twenty minutes." He rose and
walked, steadily & surely, from the restaurant into the bar, where he
ordered a bourbon and water. He waited, patiently, keeping an eye on
her time.
She took the check and pocketed the twenty! Twenty!!! "Oh, migod," she
thought, "What a great night!" Then she read the note. She froze
briefly, knowing she couldn't do this. She knew that, but also knew she
would. She felt as though her stomach was in knots, her nipples erect
and hard as pebbles, her pussy beginning to flow. She knew she would go
to him, with him, and become his. She checked her watch ... her shift
ended in fifteen minutes. She prayed no more customers would come.
Rebecca was lucky. Her relief was early and no one else had come in to
her section. She rushed to the back and changed out of her uniform,
into the short skirt and blouse she had worn to work. She stopped, and
quickly touched herself...wet, open, hot. She knew what lay in store
and she rushed to get there. In her haste, she either forgot or decided
against wearing her panties.
She entered the bar and looked for him. He wasn't there! She panicked,
looking at her watch...12:03. Her heart sank. She was three minutes
late. He must have left, tired of waiting. She nearly cried. She went
to the bar, intending to have a glass of wine and then go home to her
vibrator and her cold, empty bed.
The bartender looked at her and said, "Here's a note some guy left."
She opened it with fumbling fingers.
"You're late," it said. "This will cost you. I'll be in parking lot,
waiting, until 12:15. Be there or you lose the opportunity."
She ran from the bar to the parking lot, praying to the goddess that she
wasn't late again. She stood, looking for him, when a dark blue PT
Cruiser drove up. The passenger side door opened. She tried to see who
was in there, but the compartment was dark. She took a deep breath and
climbed in.
Jazz played softly (Miles Davis, she thought). She put on her seat belt
and turned to look. He smiled at her and spoke in a harsh whisper, "You
were late, Rebecca. That wasn't a good start to the evening. Now, hold
out your hands."
She quickly complied, whispering, "Sorry, Sir, but you didn't give me
enough time."
He hushed her immediately. "From now on, until we part company, you
will address me as "Master" and will not offer excuses or reasons. Do
you understand?" She nodded, silent. "Good. You will learn quickly how
to please your Master." He took a pair of leather and fur manacles and
bound her hands before her with them. Then he attached a chain to the
clasps and pulled it back, attaching it to an overhead bar in the van.
He pulled and her hands were elevated, not stretched but above her
head. She knew she was displayed. "Now, Rebecca, tell me what your
schedule is for tomorrow and Thursday."
She hesitated, then spoke in a hoarse whisper, "I have them off,
Sir...Master, I mean. I do not have to work again until Friday
evening."
"Other plans?"
"None, Master. I was going to do some shopping, but it can wait."
"Social plans?" His voice almost laughed, as though he knew she had
little or no dating life at all.
"None, Master"
"Very good." He unbuttoned her blouse three, no four buttons, and
spread it wide. Her naked breasts were exposed. He put the van in gear
and they drove, carefully obeying the speed limit. At every light, if
he stopped, people stared. She was aroused, totally aware of her
situation. At one point, she glanced to her right and saw two teenage
boys staring at her, laughing and whistling. Another time, a police
cruiser went by. She could have sworn the cop looked right at her and
smiled. She felt her pussy open further, her nipples harden until they
were painful, her whole being desiring a touch, a word, a command.
"Master?" she whispered. "Master? Where are we going?"
He didn't even look at her, but drove on, not saying a word. She felt
the cold throughout her body. She had spoken out of turn. She realized
that he would chalk that up against her, too. They drove, though the
sections of Bellingham she knew, into a district she had never seen
before. It was rich...oh god, was it rich! Winding streets, gated
yards, large houses, until they slowed and turned into a driveway that
led to a brick estate house. The lights on the driveway and walk came
on without warning. The entire driveway and walk to the house were lit
up. He stopped at least fifty yards from the door and released her
hands, then her seat belt. He silently pulled the blouse from her skirt
and stripped it from her, being careful not to tear it as it passed over
the manacles. Then he fastened the manacles with the length of chain and
reached into the glove compartment. From it, he produced a black leather
dog collar with a d-ring on it. He fastened it around her neck and then
ran the chain through the d-ring and back to the cuffs. He attached it
there with a padlock.
He smiled and said, "You will exit the van and walk, very slowly, to the
door. There you will kneel, facing the street and wait for me. If you
don't do this, I will release you and drive you home and never see you
again." He opened the door.
Rebecca almost stumbled as she slipped from the car, she was so
nervous. She didn't hear the car move, knew he was watching her to see
that she complied completely with the command. She didn't hesitate now,
for her mind was made up. She walked, very slowly, up the driveway,
aware that the whole neighborhood could see her. She approached the
door and saw a soft carpet pad in front of it, far enough away that
someone could step between it and the door. It was out in the open,
with a pair of floodlights trained on it. She would be on display.
She knelt.
+++++++
Tom sat in the van and watched Rebecca. "Perfect," he thought, as he
struggled to calm his raging erection. She would be a marvelous toy for
the weekend. What luck that she had the same schedule as he did. What
luck that she wasn't utterly docile, but rather was forward and
aggressive. She'd be that much more fun to make his.
He watched her walk, absolutely erect and properly, to the door, then
watched her pirouette and kneel, shoulders back, breasts open and proud,
her hands and neck manacled and chained. He slowly drove up the drive
and parked the van in the garage. As he closed the doors, the driveway
lights extinguished themselves, leaving just the spots on the porch. He
knew that at least two neighbors were watching...they always watched him
come home, especially on Tuesday nights, for that was when he "played
rough". "Well," he thought, "eat your fucking hearts out. Rebecca is
my slave, not yours!"
He entered the house through the garage door, leaving her kneeling on
the porch, on display. He checked the game room, and then unlocked the
Master's room. He chuckled, as he looked at the various toys he would
introduce her to over the next 48 hours. He removed his ax and hung it
in its usual place on the wall, next to the various Anglo-Saxon & Viking
reproductions. He brushed his hair, then poured himself a drink. He
relaxed, looking at the clock. Ten minutes...long enough.
Tom walked to the door and opened it silently. Rebecca was looking at
house across the street...the one where the drapes had slid open as soon
as she knelt. A man and woman were looking at her. She could see them
clearly...see the man stroking the naked woman's breasts and pussy as
she stared at Rebecca; see the woman lean forward at the waist,
spreading her legs; see the man moving behind her, entering her, fucking
her slowly as they both looked at Rebecca who knelt, wet, wild, open,
legs spread, shoulders back, thoroughly on exhibition for anyone to see.
Rebecca watched the woman's face go rigid with her orgasm and felt a
tiny cum build in her own pussy as well. She wanted to be there with
them, chained, offered to them as a plaything. She was so entranced by
her fantasy that she didn't hear the door opening. It was the reaction
of the man across the street...a wide smile and wave that told her she
was not alone.
Tom chuckled and touched her shoulder. "Rise and stand very still," he
commanded. She complied. His hands went to her skirt and unzipped it.
As it fell, he whispered, "No panties...such a naughty girl we have
here." He turned her to face him, ass to the street. She saw his
gloved hands and shuddered. He took one step to the side so that he was
perpendicular to her. Then he struck...three quick sharp spanks on her
naked ass. He turned her again, to face the street. The man across the
street was fucking in earnest now. "Watch them...be with them," Tom
whispered to his naked toy. She watched them fuck for maybe two more
minutes...Then both froze as they came together. Tom stood behind her,
whispering, "They came for you, because of you, because they know what
you are...my slavegirl, Rebecca."
He bound a cloth over her eyes, turned her again, and grasping the chain
that led from her manacles, pulled her inside after him. The door swung
shut, and the "weekend" truly began.
+++++++
Two hours...two hours she had been tied to the post, while He spanked
and flogged her ass. She was so turned on she was on the edge of
exhaustion. He had forbade her from cumming and He was continually
taking her to her limits, extending them as He worked on her.
When they entered the house, He had blindfolded her and led her to this
room. Here, He had bound her roughly, not seeming to care about her
comfort. He strapped her first to a table, binding her wrists to chains
and making her bend at the waist, feet flat, legs spread wide. Then He
spanked her, making her count the blows, 50 of them, until she was
crying, bawling, begging for release. He did not refuse, but stopped
only to start again, spanking her pussylips 10 times more. Then He
released her wrists, pulled her up by the hair, and moved her across the
room. She begged to be allowed to cum, knowing it would anger Him more.
He laughed and slapped her face...hard...telling her that she would cum
when HE was damned good & ready for her to cum, not before. Then He
bound her to the rough wooden post, her breasts rubbing against the
wood, her pussy rubbing there, too, and her ass exposed to Him. Then He
removed the blindfold and picked up the flogger.
Rebecca shuddered, recalling how it whistled and snapped and stung her
as it struck. She had counted every blow, loudly, through her tears of
frustration, pain, and ecstasy. This was what she had hoped He would
do...punish her, take her to the edge, make her extend her limitations
farther than ever before. 50 more blows...50 more moments of painful
bliss.
++++++
Two hours...two hours, Tom had tested her, tried her boundaries, waiting
for her to say the word. He had whispered, "Popcorn will stop it all"
as he moved her though the house. And throughout the two hours, as she
had begged him to stop, screamed her agony & desire, he had listened,
fearing she would say the word. The only time he had been angry had
been when she asked to cum for him. How dare she! She knew, had to
know, that he would make her cum when he was ready. That they would
both cum, repeatedly, before the weekend ended, she had to know. For
that transgression, he had slapped her face as hard as he dared. He
knew it hurt her...his palm had stung after the blow. But she stood and
cried, yet said nothing. He was terribly afraid that he had gone too
far, but when she whimpered, "I'm sorry, Master. I deserved that", he
had breathed a sigh of relief. And when he bound her to the post, her
clit and nipples being rubbed against the pine, and removed the
blindfold, her eyes were shining with lust.
He smiled...he almost danced for joy. She was truly his!
After that, he flogged her, using the buffalo hide cat. It was heavy
and made a stunning impression on her already sore, red ass. She
whimpered, rubbing herself against the post with each stroke. He knew
how quickly this could cause an unintentional orgasm, so he paced
himself, giving her five at a time, varying the speed, force, and angle
of each blow. As she reached each five count, he stopped, letting her
catch her breath. Often he walked up behind her, soothing her, touching
her hair, her neck, her shoulders, while whispering, "Good girl,
Rebecca, hold off the urge, fight the urge to cum." He knew that this
had two, quite opposite, effects. First, it gentled her, calmed her
down; but, more sadistic, it aroused her, hearing his voice, feeling his
hands. She so desired to cum, he could taste her need. And it fed his
hunger.
So, Tom kept up the beating.....15, 20, 25....a very long break. He
left the room, relaxed, used the john, teased himself to the brink and
stopped, then got two glasses of wine and returned. She needed to
relieve herself and he released her, making her crawl to the toilet,
then crawl back. He reset her bonds, being certain her swollen sex
rubbed against the tiny nubbin of wood he had carved out to tease his
slave's clits. Then the beating began again, until her ass was utterly
red and sore and her sex was flowing with her need. 30,35,40...an
intermediate break to let her cool off. More wine, then the final ten.
He took a 30-second break between each blow, aiming very carefully,
letting the tails nip at her exposed anus and pussy with each shot he
took. 45, then excruciatingly, 50.
He released her, caught her in his arms, and looked into her eyes, still
filled with tears. He whispered, "You are a very good pet."
She whimpered, "Thank You, Master" and collapsed in His arms. She felt
so safe there, even though those Hands had just whipped her into
complete exhaustion. She felt she could go no further, until His
fingers explored her aching nipples, rubbed sore by the pole, and her
swollen, open pussy. When He touched her clit, she exploded in a massive
orgasm, so long denied. The orgasm she had desired since the moment He
walked into the restaurant. And when she came, He whispered, "Good pet,
cum for me." And she did, again and again, until she faded into
oblivion and slept.
Tom carried her to his bed and laid her in it. He lay next to her,
hearing her gentle breathing. His needs would wait until she awoke.
After all, it was only the first night of what he now felt might be
forever
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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