12 comments/ 23642 views/ 24 favorites Never Alone By: ErynnLouviaite CHAPTER 1: Never Alone Gentle fingers caressing her forearm lift her out of a deep sleep. A hot exhale on her neck plunges her into wakefulness. The dim green glow of her alarm clock informs her that it is just after three, but it does not provide enough light to see by. The feeling of being watched is strong, making the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. She is not alone. Her body refuses to move. Her vocal chords are not responding. Terror holds her frozen, but there's something else - something soothing, reassuring. Confused and curious yet still so tired, she struggles to keep her heavy eyelids from pulling her back into the darkness. It's a fight she's going to lose before bringing herself to investigate. She slips into a dreamless sleep, that is, until the following night. Never Alone "Please, I don't know what you want... what I've done... just please..." His fingers move from her chin to her lips, silencing her. "You've caught my eye; that's what you've done. Don't act scared. You always enjoy yourself when..." Now it is Greta's turn to interrupt. "But that wasn't real!" With that, her escape attempt recommences, but it hardly fazes the man whose stout arms are solidly around her waist. After her struggles cease again, the dream-man takes hold of her wrist. "You two are dismissed. I'll take her from here." "No... no! Please let me go." The last thing she wants to do is go deeper into this house, but his grip is crushing and inescapable. "Be calm, my pet. I don't want to hurt you, but you must learn to obey me. Now quit this nonsense." She doesn't listen. If anything, his request spurs her tantrum further. His response is to pick her up easily and place her over his shoulder to carry her farther into his lair. He releases her once inside a grand bedroom with a four-poster bed, more magnificent drapes, and a large wooden door which he locks behind them. As he does that, she scrambles to the opposite side of the room in attempt to leave through another door there. It's locked, of course, and he leisurely takes a seat on the sofa with a knowing grin. "When you've finished trying to escape, I'll give you one more chance to obey me. Come over here to me." "No! You'll be sorry..." "That's where you have it wrong. Come here now or you'll be sorry, my dear." It's as if her feet want to move and stay planted at the same time. That latter urge wins, but her legs begin to tremble uncontrollably. In a flash, he is up off the couch and snares her arm firmly in his grasp. She digs her heels in unsuccessfully and quickly finds herself standing next to a seated, angry-looking man. "Lay over my knee." "Absolutely not." The words are hardly out of her mouth when she finds herself jerked forward and toppling into position. Her hands on the floor and his thigh under her hips break the fall. He quickly pins her down with an arm firmly on her back and one leg hooked over both of hers. "What do you think you're doing?!" "Teaching." Her pleas to be released are ignored and no amount of kicking and squirming loosens his hold. The tears that she has been holding back break the barrier. "You're only making it worse on yourself, Greta. I warned you; chose not to obey me and you'll be punished," he reminds her as the zipper on her skirt slides down. "Ok I'll listen! You don't have to do this!" "I keep my promises. It's the only way you'll learn to obey me." His words send shivers down her spine that are quickly multiplied as her panties are revealed to the drafty room. Kicking. Squirming. Pleading. SMACK! "You certainly are making this enjoyable, pet. All your futile struggling." Sobbing. Quivering. SMACK! SMACK! He gently slides her panties down and caresses her reddening mounds before an onslaught of painful skin-to-skin lashes. She loses count and tires of crying, but continues to yelp with each blow. The bounce of her rosy cheeks and constant vocalizations spur him on. When the punishment finally subsides, she relaxes hesitantly. Though his touch is gentle now, every contact spreads fire. His strong fingers trace the red marks that cover her cheeks then dip into the valley between them, causing her to tense again. "Relax. Your punishment is over... for now," but she can't relax in this debasing position, especially with his hand nearing the apex of her quaking thighs. "What do we have here? Did you like your punishment, pet?" He slides his digits through her wetness, her body's ultimate treachery. When she doesn't respond, his hand lands on her welted ass. "Answer me. I won't ask you again," he threatens while contracting his hand around aching flesh. "Nooo... please let me go. I've learned my lesson." "I'm not convinced you have. And is that your answer to my question?" His fingers travel back to the steamy damp place, which elicits an uncontrollable moan. "Something tells me 'no' isn't the right answer. Want to try again?" "I don't know," she sobs. He thrusts a finger into her sopping slit and she gasps. A second joins the first and the two move in and out so quickly she is sure she is about to explode. She whimpers in protest when he removes them to ask, "Did you enjoy that?" The quiet squeak she utters is in the affirmative, but it's not good enough. "Speak up." "Yes," she answers louder, which starts the tears again, this time from embarrassment rather than pain or fear. "Well you'll have to show me you've learned your lesson if you want more of that. Now back to my question. Did you like your punishment?" She bobs her head slightly. "Thank me for it." "What?!" She cries out and rethinks her response when he spanks her one more time. "I'm s...sorry. Th...thank you." "Good girl." With that, he helps her up from her bent position and sits her on his thigh. The sting puts her on her feet immediately. "No, no. Sit down and feel your punishment." He hushes her when she opens her mouth to ask questions. The silence between them is filled only with her soft, fading sobs. His deft fingers wipe a tear from her eye, before he instructs her to get some rest. CHAPTER 4: Pain and Pleasure "Get up," demands an all-too-familiar voice through the darkness. "What? What time is it?" Greta feels as if she has fallen asleep only moments ago. "On the floor. On your knees." "But..." "Don't make me tell you again. Have you forgotten your punishment already? It's only been a few hours." "I..." "You were not asked to speak. Sleep is a privilege, my pet. You have not yet earned it." Greta rolls out of the oversized four-poster bed slowly, but obediently. She certainly has not forgotten her punishment and doesn't wish to repeat it, especially with her backside still so sore. "Open up," he says, as he steps closer to his kneeling prisoner. The room is dark, but his naked, chiseled body catches a ray of moonlight. "No!" is her immediate response when she understands his intentions. He snares her intractable, retreating head by the hair before she can get away. "Excuse me?" "Please don't make me. I'll... I'll..." If her supply of tears wasn't so depleted they probably would've started again. "You know what happens when you disobey me, my pet." Her response is to lean forward again into a proper kneeling position and wet her lips in preparation. "That's a good girl." She opens her mouth when she feels flesh on her lips. He eases inside slowly. "Relax. Let me all the way in." She gags, but recovers. He is still for a moment as he strokes her hair, but this doesn't last long. His grip tightens, holding her head in place as he begins to pump faster and harder. The protesting sounds she's making only increase his pleasure, sending vibrations down his shaft. To Greta, this torture lasts incredibly long. Finally he pushes her face all the way against himself and empties the strange, yet not unpleasant load. She swallows most of it, but coughs and gasps for air when he releases her. "On your feet." His hands find her hips and turn her to face the bed while he positions himself behind her. She begins to protest as he removes the silky nightgown she had been sleeping in, but thinks better of it. "Spread your legs... wider... wider," he instructs as she does so hesitantly inch by inch and he gently pushes her forward with a hand between her shoulders. Eventually she is bent at the waist with her face and shoulders touching the bed and her ass in the air. "Beautiful, my dear. Keep those legs straight and your shoulders on the bed. Five lashes, but..." "What? No please!" she pleads, abandoning her position. "Ten then. Back in position. Now." "But..." "Would you like fifteen?" She shakes her head and repositions herself, awaiting her punishment, but it doesn't come. She steals a glance behind her. "Stay in position. We'll start over every time you break it. Count them, my pet." Swish. Whack. The sound of the whip cutting the air is loud before it even makes contact. "Ow!" "I told you to count them. Again." Swish. Whack. "Two," she whimpers. "The first doesn't count because I had to remind you. Begin again with one." Swish. Whack. "One." Swish. Whack. "Ow ... two." Swish. Whack. "Three... please stop. I'll listen, I promise." She bends her knees, slumping onto the bed. "You are making this much more difficult than it needs to be. You must learn to obey me in the first place. Straighten your legs and we'll begin again. Only the numbers, dear." Swish. Whack. "One." Swish. Whack "Two." Swish. Whack. "Three." After he reaches ten, he instructs her to stay put. The whip lands softly on the bedside table and he reaches for something else, but she doesn't dare turn around. She jumps when a cool gel lands on her backside. He massages the soothing liquid over her fiery mounds before trickling some of it down the crease between. She tenses noticeably and pulls away slightly as his finger ventures after the gel. It circles around her puckered hole. "Nooo," she moans quietly. "I'll do what I want with you, my pet; you must accept this. It's easier if you relax, but you don't have a choice either way." With that, he forces his finger passed the muscle ring trying to keep him out. She starts to writhe as he pulls in and out of her, but he presses her into the bed with his free hand. More gel and a second finger. "This is for your own good. If you don't relax this next part could be quite unpleasant for you." She does her best to obey and breathes a sigh of relief when his digits exit this previously untouched place. She hears rather than feels the next squirt of lubricant and knows exactly what it's being used for. She bites her lip to refrain from speaking as she feels him at her entrance. Deep breaths do little to calm her and she knows it'll probably hurt despite his attempts to help. He leans against her slowly and she whines. "You're so tight," he moans as he forces his way inside. She is moaning too, but not only from discomfort. She can feel color rush to her face as he reaches around to stroke her nether lips. "Is this for me?" he asks, trailing her own wetness up her stomach with his fingers. Her only response is to groan as he buries himself to the hilt. "Enjoying yourself?" She can hear a grin in his voice. He slides out and back in quickly, making the bed squeak. "Nooo..." "Don't... lie... to me." His words match his thrusts and she presses her face into the comforter to muffle her vocalizations, but he pulls her head back by her hair. "No, no. I like to hear you." She obliges not for him, but because she can't help herself as she is overwhelmed in a wave of discomfort and pleasure. Her position eats at her, but the sensations are new and arousing. Confused tears stream down her face and grow harder as he spasms inside her. After a moment, he steps away and her knees crumble beneath her. He dresses in silence then easily and gently lifts her onto the bed where she curls into a trembling ball. She flinches when he begins to massage her backside again, but relaxes as the soothing sensation takes away the sting. He slowly and carefully rolls her onto her back, pulling her hips toward the edge of the bed where he is now standing. She is too exhausted to care what he is doing and allows him to place her legs over his shoulders without protesting. His hot breath makes her arch her back and suddenly she realizes how extremely aroused she is. She moans softly, still somewhat ashamed. He takes this as an invitation and moves closer, sweeping his tongue once through the wetness. The balance between ashamed and desperate shifts. "Oh please..." But her voice trails off, afraid of upsetting him. "What do you want, my pet? I like to hear you beg." She doesn't respond, now embarrassed again. "Nothing?" "Don't," she says quickly when he starts to back away. "I can't take it any longer. I need... I need anything... please." A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he tells her, "I'll give you the release you want, but only when I say so. Wait for my permission. Understand?" She opens her mouth to argue, but simply nods. He dives between her legs and she is immediately soaring to the edge, hardly able to control herself. Her chest rises and falls quickly as her lungs try to keep up. The alternating between luxurious licks and flicking her sensitive bud drives her crazy. She moans shamelessly as she writhes on the edge of the bed. "I... I..." "Not yet, dear." She grips the blankets on the bed – which are already wrinkled and messy - as if trying to restrain herself. He thrusts his tongue in and out relentlessly and she finds herself pleading, "please... please... please," unable to find other words until, "I can't..." "Now." It's as if this single word triggers something inside her and her body explodes in ecstasy. He continues lapping at her as she rides the waves of orgasm. CHAPTER 5: Escape Attempt Greta awakes alone in the large bed and scans the room for the man she will soon learn to call Master. He had exhausted her the night before and given her something strange to drink before tucking her in. That's probably why she is only now waking up with the sunlight streaming in full force through her window. She dresses quickly in her work clothes from yesterday as she walks toward the bedroom door. Her heart is pounding as she wonders whether or not her captor has locked her inside. After a moment of hesitation with her hand on the knob, she turns it. Part of her wants to jump back into the bed as the door squeaks open, knowing that if she gets caught she will be punished, but she has a chance to run away and plans on taking it. There is no movement in the hallway. She tiptoes down it and finds the large, luxurious staircase easily. The front door is in sight so she makes her way towards it as quickly and quietly as possible. The deadbolt clicks loudly as she turns it. When she spins around to check for company, she sees the man of the house – handsome as ever - standing at the top of the stairs she has just run down. "Not trying to leave me are you?" Although she knows it's useless, she continues trying to unlock the door which has many more locks than she realized. The tears clouding her vision do little to help and she is soon consumed by them. Admitting defeat, she falls to her knees as the crying grows worse. She senses him behind her and explains through the sobs that she just wants to go home, to which he replies, "This is your home now." He then grips her upper arms firmly and pulls her to her feet. She allows him to this and to spin her limp body around, pinning her to the door. "Look at me," he demands the top of her downturned head. "Now, Greta." The sternness in his voice convinces her to comply. As soon as her lips are within the reach of his, he smashes them together fiercely. She struggles at first, but with nowhere to go she easily gives into his soft mouth. The urgency and ferocity of his kiss is intoxicating. He pulls away after a moment, leaving her lips tingling and wanting more even though she desperately wants to escape from this man holding her against her will. "Don't try to run from me, my pet, or you will be punished." "No! Please let me go. You can't keep me here," she yells as her escape attempt resumes. He easily swings her into a romantic-looking dip, planting a small kiss on her forehead. "I own you now and I'll do as I please with you." She tells him "no" again, but he simply chuckles and lowers her onto the cold marble floor of the lavish entryway. "If you don't give me what I want, I'll take it, my dear," he threatens, making quick work of her skirt then straddling her squirming, half-naked body as if to enforce his point. Her hands beat on his chest ineffectively until his fingers reach between her legs to find the sensitive area there. Her body tenses for a moment and he takes this opportunity to undo his belt and the button of his pants. She fully understands his intentions and makes one more move to get away, but before she can get up, he pins her roughly and ensnares her wrists, forcing them above her head. His free hand tugs on her blouse, popping the buttons one by one, revealing her heaving chest. She halts as his hand moves toward the thin fabric separating their sexes. A knowing smile spreads across his face as he feels the warm dampness there. She sees this and immediately focuses her attention elsewhere... like the oversized chandelier on the ceiling. He softly caresses her through the satin, saturating it further and causing her to undulate beneath him. She marvels at how lithe his strong hands feel against her panties. Without another word, he roughly removes this last impediment and positions himself above her, continuing to restrain her arms above her head. Her long, limber body is stretched out below him, goosebumps covering her perfectly pale, soft skin which contrasts beautifully with the dark marble tile. Her chest rises and falls, drawing attention to her perfectly pink erect buds. She whimpers, torn between wanting and not wanting him to take her right there on the floor of the extravagant mansion foyer. He does. Her back arches with pure pleasure despite being taken by force... or perhaps because of it. He repeatedly pounds into her roughly, eliciting moans from her trembling lips. After he releases her arms, she lowers them hesitantly, but certainly does not begin hitting him again. He pauses a moment, resting some of his weight on her tiny body, and though she would never admit it, she relishes the closeness. His hands slip beneath her, pushing himself farther inside, their bodies fused at the waist. In one swift movement, he rolls onto his back, placing her perched on his member. Color rushes to her face, now embarrassed and at a loss as to what to do, but needing release. He simply places his hands cradled behind his head with a mischievous smile on his face. "Go ahead. Don't act like you don't know what to do." She sits motionless, still fully impaled. His hand ventures forward to roll her sensitive bud between his fingers. She shrinks away from his touch, but he tightens his grip, causing a whimper. "You were enjoying yourself when I was doing all the work," he points out as he tugs sharply upward on her nipple. She rises up, but as soon as she does so, he pulls in the opposite direction. To avoid more pain, she does as she was told, sliding on and off him. She is soon panting and her face is flushed from exertion when he grips her hips, burying himself deep. His spasms send her to the edge of release, but he instructs her to dismount. To her look of disappointment he replies, "I wish you deserved it, my pet. Now clean it off." She obediently takes his limp member into her mouth, tasting the mixture of juices on it. After a moment she raises her head. "Until I tell you you're finished." She nurses his spent cock until it begins to semi-harden again. "That's enough. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. We're having guests tonight," he says, getting up from the floor, leaving her kneeling alone. "Guests?" He re-buttons his pants before answering. "Do as you're told. You already have a punishment waiting for you for trying to leave me." "But..." "Want to double it?" Instead of answering, she lowers her head and hurries upstairs. Once inside her room, she starts the water for a bath in the oversized clawfoot tub. Sinking into the bubbles relaxes her, but she is still desperate for release. Her fingers gently circle her clitoris before sliding lower. Never Alone Suddenly the bathroom door swings open. "What are you doing?" Greta's jaw drops at the sight of her imprisoner. "I...I'm sorry...sir." She hopes the addition will score her some points with the angry man in the doorway. "Rinse off and come out here immediately. No need to dry off or get dressed." Fearing she might anger him more, she quickly finishes up her bath and wraps a towel around herself. CHAPTER 6: Dinner Party Greta steps out of the bathroom hesitantly, clenching her towel to her chest. Her body shivers with anticipation and cold in the drafty room. She has already disobeyed him multiple times today. "Did I tell you to put a towel on?" She immediately drops it in response and he motions for her to come to him. She obeys, not wanting to anger him further. When he says, "On your knees," she obeys straightaway. His foot taps the inside of her knee and she spreads her thighs wider. She glances up and is met with smoldering eyes – dangerous and full of lust. "Head down... good girl. Stay." He leaves the room and she wonders how long he plans on leaving her there. She doesn't dare break her position. When he returns, she resists the temptation to look up at him. The clink of metal by the bed makes her cringe and she tenses as his footsteps near. He cups her chin gently, tilting it up to meet his steely gaze. "You're going to be sore tonight." With the casualness in his voice, he could've been telling her the time, but the message... threat... promise sends a shiver straight to her core, the muscles at the apex of her thighs clenching in a most delicious way. She takes hold of his hand when it enters her field of vision and he helps her to her feet before leading her gently to the bed. These gentlemanlike actions don't fool her, but she feels herself being pulled under his spell if only for a moment. "Center of the bed, arms above your head." She hesitates, understanding his intentions as he gathers the chains and moves toward the headboard. "I don't like to wait, Greta." She obeys, scooting herself to the middle of the oversized bed and raising her arms so that her hands barely clear the top of her head. When he snaps his fingers she offers him her wrist, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling high above her. He slowly makes his way to the opposite side of the bed, never taking his hungry eyes off her. After both arms are shackled, he slides a silky mask over her eyes. She opens her mouth to protest. Having her movement restricted was one thing, but for some reason the loss of one of her senses scares her. "Don't you like the blindfold, my pet?" She shakes her head in a small jerk, almost unperceivable. "You like to know what's coming don't you?" Her nod is equally unconfident. His footsteps retreat and she squirms uncomfortably, anticipating his next move. His hands appear on either side of her head, brushing her hair back behind her ears. The gentle touch is disarming and she melts beneath him. That is, until she feels something other than his fingers touch her ears. He leans in, inserting the ear buds and it tickles her neck when he breaths, "Now you really won't know what's coming." She pulls at the restraints, knowing that taking out her frustration verbally would be a bad idea. "Stay still. That's an order." His voice is so smooth and sexy despite the command it carries. With that, music erupts in her ears, cutting her completely off from the bedroom where she is tethered. A haunting voice, acapella and beautiful, is soon joined by others in an ethereal choir. The ghostly melody drags Greta towards another world entirely, calming her breathing and relaxing her entire body. Something soft brushes her breast and she jumps back to reality for a moment, only to be pulled back by the mesmerizing music as the feather dances across her body. She can feel the pressure inside her building with the song even though he's hardly touched her. The soft, sensual torture device traces her jaw, her collar bone. It tickles her ribs before crossing her body at her hips, which she raises in invitation. The feather disappears until she relaxes again and it reappears at her ankle, making its way up the inside of her leg. When it touches her overly sensitive sex, she jolts. Down the opposite leg. Swirling around her toes. Back up the other side. Circles on her stomach. It takes all her will power to keep from writhing beneath his exquisite torment. Meanwhile the music swells with more angelic voices overlapping and intertwining. His hands. Their strength vastly opposes the delicate caress of the feather. A moan escapes her lips as her breasts are molded by robust, fervent hands. His mouth is on her neck, surely leaving marks where he's pulled the blood to the surface. She cries out as he pinches her sensitive buds while simultaneously biting her ear. Then his mouth is smothering her own, stifling her vocalizations. He rests his weight on her, his tongue still forcing its way into her mouth while he releases one of her wrists. In a flash he is off her and roughly flips her onto her stomach. They are both panting – hot and bothered – when he gets off the bed to fetch his next tool. The anticipation is killing her and her sense of time is altered as she waits for his return. The music changes into something charged with energy... and passion... and Oh! The bite of the flogger on her vulnerable bottom stings then fades into a pleasurable burn as choir-like voices sing into her ears. Instinctively she reaches to protect herself with her free arm, but it is quickly ensnared and pinned to her back. The steady beat pounds through the earbuds and she is unable to hear her captor. She is horizontal on the bed now, one armed still handcuffed to the headboard and her head dangling off the side where he is standing over her. The flogger connects with her skin again, matching a crescendo in the music perfectly. Again and again he rains blows across her reddening mounds as a strange tribal-sounding flute wails. She rubs her legs together in attempt to slow the buildup of pressure and clenching of muscles down there. He rolls her onto her back and drops onto the bed with her, knowing she's close to climax. The ear buds are yanked from her ears before he plunges three fingers into her aching opening. He is perfectly still, breathing a little heavy but otherwise motionless and still inside her. When she grinds her hips in attempt to bring herself to release, he bites down hard on her beautifully pink, erect nipple. When he takes the blindfold off, he is staring into her eyes only inches from her face. She gasps at the intensity of his stare. "This," he says while jerking his fingers in and out quickly to emphasize what he's referring to, "...is mine. Do you understand?" "Yes... Yes Sir." Her voice is shaky with need. Without another word, he replaces the cuff on her free wrist and tethers her feet to the other corners as well. Finally he replaces the blindfold and exits, leaving her frustrated and desperate. Greta is unsure how much time has passed when she hears the door open again. Have I fallen asleep? The mattress sinks between her legs and there is a welcomed feeling against her sex. Unceremoniously, the turgid member is forced inside and her back arches, her limbs pulling against their restraints. Within moments, she feels that familiar sensation. "Please... may I..." but her voice trails off when he drives himself in deep. "No baby. You don't have permission yet." That voice, that chuckle is not familiar. Greta immediately starts fighting with the restraints. Naked thighs appear on either side of her head. "Shhh... my pet." It's His voice now and it calms her. "Open up." She obeys, grateful that she is not alone with this stranger. They both drill into her over and over again and she's moaning uncontrollably. When her mouth is free for a moment she begs incoherently, receiving conditional release, "When I do, you have my permission." Her mouth is filled again and she pulls him to the back of her throat. He lets out a soft guttural groan and it doesn't take long with her mouth in overdrive for him to start to spasm. Her own body is racked with an overwhelming orgasm like none she's ever felt before. The stranger moans as she clenches around him. He drives into her roughly, sending her reeling over and over until he too falls over the edge. "Good girl." She doesn't move as the two men dismount and her shackles are removed. By the time she regains her sight, the stranger is gone. "Go shower. You have ten minutes. Someone will attend to you when you're finished." Greta's legs can hardly carry her to the shower where she stands in a daze. Wishing she can stay under the scalding water forever but knowing she cannot, she hurries to finish and get back to the bedroom. Sure enough, someone is waiting. A table is set up in the middle of the room and the harsh-looking woman there motions for Greta to climb onto it. Her towel is snatched from her before she can argue and after much waxing and plucking, she is rubbed down with a liquid that makes her skin tingle and shine. The woman directs her to a chair where she tames Greta's wavy red hair and applies makeup. Finally she hands her a pair of lacy red panties. "Is this it?" The woman only smirks at Greta's question and motions for her to follow. Greta crosses her arms around her nakedness as they make their way down to the empty dining room. Well, empty for now. It sounds like a whole crowd of people a few rooms over. The color drains from Greta's face and her legs threaten to give out. Lucky for her, she doesn't have to stand much longer. She is escorted to the oversized table and helped onto it by two tall, intimidating men. Just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she is mortified when they reach under the table and extend leather cuffs from some hidden place. Without thinking, she jumps off the table and bolts towards the door. To no one's surprise, including her own, she is entrapped in the strong arms of her master. She melts in his arms as he asks, "Going somewhere?" "No Sir," she squeaks. "That's what I thought. The table needs to be set so the rest of us can eat. You're not going to cause problems are you?" "No... Sir." "And you're not going to embarrass me are you? I don't think you want to add more to the punishments you already have coming." She marvels at how smooth his voice sounds. "I... I won't." "Good girl. You look beautiful. Get back on the table." She is thrown by the compliment and can only comply. He handcuffs her hands above her head before pulling her farther down the table until her arms are strained. Her ankles are cuffed as well and he tightens the straps so all four limbs are stretched and immobile. "Behave and don't move. Don't speak either. I want the tablescape to be a surprise and I have guests to attend to." He exits with a smile, leaving her feeling more vulnerable for some reason. She does her best to slip away and ignore what is going on – people placing food on and around her body, rearranging and examining their work as if a girl is not lying naked beneath it. Then the sounds of voices move closer and she tenses. All those people are about to see her naked. She's about to be the centerpiece at a dinner party. CHAPTER 7: Three's a Crowd Greta's arms are already beginning to ache from being tethered on the table. The restraints allow for very little movement but she doesn't dare move anyway. He told her not to; it could mess up the tablescape. The food that was so artfully placed on and around her nearly-naked body might slip or shift and she's already in so much trouble. I don't think you want to add more to the punishments you already have coming. Then there are the footsteps. So many of them. She risks a glance to the doorway of the dining room. How can he look so wonderfully attractive when he's the one putting her through this embarrassment? "Absolutely breathtaking," he breaths as he reaches the table. "And yes, I mean you." Part of Greta melts because of his sensual and seemingly-sincere praise. "I'd like to eat like this every night." Instinctively she cringes away from his touch but her inner goddess is arching her back, offering herself to his experienced hands as they navigate the dip between her breasts. Her subconscious loses and his brow wrinkles. "Don't be afraid of me. Try to enjoy yourself. We'll certainly be having fun later." With a mischievous smirk, he leaves. Greta's eyes stay trained on the ceiling while a crowd of people surround her. Her face is consumed by a mask of redness as they remark on how wonderful the table looks. Although most of what she hears is compliments, she tries her best to tune it all out. "Hey baby, remember me?" a familiar voice asks. The face is not familiar, of course, because she was blindfolded last they encountered each other. She doesn't respond, only looks away from the overly-confident boyish grin. "Aww don't act like you didn't enjoy yourself," he says, caressing her arm. "Disrupting the décor, Jase?" "Your little minx won't admit she enjoyed herself earlier." "We'll coax it out of her later." As usual, his ominous comment sends shivers down her spine. Greta shrinks back when Jase slides his fingers beneath the greenery covering her breasts. "Leave her be, Jase." "Come on, Liam. We're just having a little fun, aren't we?" he asks Greta, whose facial expression is anything but pleased. He gives her nipple a sharp squeeze. "I'm not going to ask you again," Liam warns, his face darkening. Greta has seen that face before; he is deadly serious. Jase simply shrugs it off. "Laters, baby." His fingers slide off her body much too slowly. "Take the guests back into the other room. Dinner is over." Jase does as he's told and the room finally begins to empty. Just when Greta thinks she is alone at last, footsteps approach the table, his footsteps. He undoes the bindings on her wrists first, gently kissing the red marks left on each of them. His fingers draw lazy circles down her body, down her legs before releasing those as well. His feathery kisses encircle her ankles before making a tingling trail up her leg, his hands clearing the way of food debris. She is fully aware that she is slipping under his spell, but she doesn't care. If she's stuck here, she might as well enjoy it when he is in one of his rare good moods. His hot breath on her silk panties sends her hips up off the table, but he doesn't linger. The stubble on his chin tickles the valley between her breasts as his mouth suckles her neck. "We're going to have so much fun tonight," he sighs in her ear before straightening up and helping her off the table. "Go upstairs and get cleaned up. Get some rest too. I'll be up once my guests leave." He plants a soft kiss on her forehead then swats her ass playfully when she turns toward the door. She takes her time in the steamy shower, trying to relax. What does he have planned tonight? There are no clothes in the room so she slips under the covers in the oversized bed naked. Anything she puts on will be coming off anyway. Despite the fear and anticipation, she manages to slip into a deep sleep. Falling asleep naked seems like a horrible idea when she is awoken by the blankets being torn off her unceremoniously. "Naked and ready. He certainly found himself a little slut didn't he?" Jase mocks. Her struggles are too little too late when she wakes up enough to realize he is locking a collar around her neck. He tugs roughly on the attached leash and she scrambles out of bed as quickly as possible to follow him out the door and down the hall. They enter a dark room. As her eyes adjust, she sees foreign instruments lining the walls and strange furniture littered about. Then she sees him on the far wall sitting on what could be construed as a throne. "On your knees." Her legs buckle immediately. "Jase, bring her to me." Greta crawls towards him slowly while Jase pulls on her leash. The entire situation is completely degrading, but the clenching of her nether muscles is unmistakable. Jase hands over the leash and her master wraps it around his hand, reeling her in. "Unbutton my pants," he demands, but when she lifts her hands, he jerks on her collar. "No hands." As she is struggling with the button in her mouth, a whip cuts through the air. She cries out and loses any progress she had made. "He won't stop until my pants are off." Jase continues his onslaught as promised until Greta forces the button through and unzips the zipper with her teeth at which point, Liam rises and slides his pants off, freeing his manhood. When he shortens the leash, she knows exactly what to do. Meanwhile, Jase choses another tool from the infinite selection. A buzzing starts behind her and she leans forward when she feels it against her puckered hole. "Noo..." she moans. He forces it inside roughly in response. She squirms and protests around her master's member. Jase pulls it in an out rapidly, twisting the vibrator cruelly. Then his hands are on her hips while he kneels behind her. He pushes inside her dripping quim in one thrust, forcing the vibrator deeper into her other orifice. Suddenly the pace inside her mouth quickens and seed spills down her throat. At once, all the intruders vanish and she feels uncomfortably empty and needing release. "Crawl," her master demands. He leads her away from the throne and then pulls her to her feet. From somewhere above, he pulls down handcuffs, quickly trapping her wrists and retracting the chain into the ceiling until her feet barely touch the floor. Jase sets a strange stool down next to her and they lift her onto it, impaling her with an oversized attached dildo. She moans and tries to lift herself off it, but she's on her tiptoes now. "You won't want this dry," Jase tells her, pressing a large object against her lips. When she realizes what it is, she immediately objects to the use of it. "Suit yourself." "No, please. Sorry. That's not what I meant." After a look from Liam, he returns it to her mouth and she wets it enthusiastically. Jase takes it back after a moment and disappears behind her to insert the enormous butt plug while her master appears in front of her with another torture device. She shouts as her nipple is squeezed between metal and her vocalizations grow louder as her behind is filled passed what she ever thought she could handle. While distracted by Jase, her second nipple is pinched, both of them now attached by a metal chain. Squirming only increases the building pressure, making the invaders rub her inside both openings and causing the chain between her breasts to swing. She is overwhelmed by an insane mix of discomfort and pleasure. Just when she thinks she's regaining some sense of control over her body's crazy responses, lips smother her own. He slips a blindfold over her eyes and steps away. She strains her ears for any hint as to what is coming next. She flinches at the sound of the flogger before it even bites her skin. Her hips buck, starting a wave of responses from the other devices. "I'm going to make you cum like this," he whispers from behind her. Then it begins. The lash of the flogger. The tug of the chain on her overly-sensitive nipples. The friction of the tool skewering her. The stretching caused by the plug. Her limbs are cramping, causing more writhing, causing more friction. She is embarrassed by the arousal she is experiencing from this apparatus, without any human contact at all. The pleasure is getting overwhelming. "I... I..." "Not yet. You don't have permission. Stay still." Never Alone: The Original Short Gentle fingers caressing her forearm lift her out of a deep sleep. A hot exhale on her neck plunges her into wakefulness. The dim green glow of her alarm clock informs her that it is just after three, but it does not provide enough light to see by. The feeling of being watched is strong, making the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. She is not alone. Her body refuses to move. Her vocal chords are not responding. Terror holds her frozen, but there's something else - something soothing, reassuring. Confused and curious yet still so tired, she struggles to keep her heavy eyelids from pulling her back into the darkness. It's a fight she's going to lose before bringing herself to investigate. She slips into a dreamless sleep, that is, until the following night. * * * She stirs awake - unsure of the cause - and it is immediately apparent that something is not right. It's too dark, much too dark. And that smell. Musky. Woodsy. Manly. There hasn't been a man in this bedroom since... since... Well it's been a while. Turning to look at her alarm clock, she realizes her eyes are covered with a thin piece of fabric. She reaches to remove it and suddenly the room grows warmer, the air thicker, the man-smell stronger. Panic spikes her senses, breathing, and heart rate all at once. Something holds her arms above her head, forcing her to reach towards the corners of the mattress. Straining against it only increases the pressure on her wrists, and makes her aware how sore this position has made her. How long has she been stretched like this, all four limbs restrained to fully offer her body to her captor? The question sends shivers up her spine. As soon as her mouth opens to scream, a hand covers it roughly, only increasing her panic and desire to call out. "Shh... No one can hear you." His message should have caused more terror, but his voice and his presence are soothing somehow. He watches the long, slender body bathed and pale in the moonlight relax. This serves as an opportunity to replace his hand with his lips. Her struggles beneath him as he crawls on top of her excite him, but they cease as she gives in to his passionate kisses. There is something so familiar about him, but that's not the only reason she allows her lips to participate. She knows that if she were to slip a finger between her legs, it would come out glistening. How quickly her body has betrayed her. But this is just a dream right? It wouldn't be anything new to Greta. She's been with this dream-man before, but this is so vivid and... "Ohh!" His finger confirms her wetness theory as it plunges inside easily. Her back arches in surprise and pleasure, pulling hard against the ties. He seems to touch every inch of the sensitive flesh inside her. The desperate thrusts of her hips soon exceed those of his fingers, urging him to quicken his pace. But he stops. The emptiness causes her to protest, but she is silenced by the taste of her own juices. His fingers slide sloppily out of her surprised mouth. Firm thighs are pushing her own farther apart, but she hardly notices because of the attention her breasts are receiving. The squeezing and kneading are almost painful yet she still finds her back arching, offering herself to his assault. His weight shifts on the bed and she can feel him at her entrance. His turgid member slides along her slick slit. Never has a dream felt so real. Even the slightest touch of their sexes feels like a small electric shock that spreads throughout her body. His warmth breath on her chilled skin. His commanding, confident touch. She wants him desperately and her hips rise as an invitation, but he retreats. "Patience my pet." His voice is so soft, barely audible. Did he just call me his pet? "Please. I..." She is immediately hushed and strong hands put pressure on her insistent hips, forcing them back into the mattress. "Begging is not very becoming. You'll learn." One hand has shifted so that the thumb can rub her swollen clit while the other is migrating northward. "But I need... Oww!" His fingers clamp on one of her sensitive buds. "Oooh STOP!" * * * The sound of her own voice frightens her awake, but when she stops screaming the only other sound is her heavy breathing. Her body is covered in sweat, matting her hair to her forehead and neck. Some of it has been soaked up into the old T-shirt she's wearing, but that is hiked up high enough to reveal erect nipples. As she shifts to turn on her bedside lamp, she realizes her panties are damp. Some dream wasn't it? But the lamp's glow reveals strange purple marks on her wrist. Her other wrists has a matching bruise bracelet. The temperature of the room suddenly seems to rise again and she feels nauseous. Instead of deep breaths calming her down, her panic intensifies as a familiar yet impossible scent enters her nose. This can't be happening. Before she consciously makes up her mind, her legs are carrying her out the bedroom door, leaving blankets falling off the bed. A sprint down the short hallway. Was that a shadow? A precarious dash down the stairs. Don't fall or he'll get me. Unlocking the front door with shaky hands awards her with a cool breeze. She feels silly for a moment, standing on her front porch in only a T-shirt and dull underwear. There is no audience though because no one is outside at three in the morning. Right when it seems safe to go back inside -- it was only a dream of course -- a strong dizziness comes over her. The road and the sidewalk are rippling. It's as if she's looking out onto a cement sea. The house across from her begins to tilt. The cool breeze is gone as she is wrapped in warmth again. She feels light as a feather for a moment, and then she sees the stars before everything fades to black.