"Privacy. I'm sorry you have to deal with it, but it will get easier. I'll protect you from them as much as I can."

I looked over at her, guarded and freaked out and forlorn, hunched against the door.

"Give me your hand."

I took her hand and drew it to my mouth, and brushed my lips across the soft skin there. We drove home in silence, and I noticed more than once that she stifled yawns.

You shouldn't use her tonight, my conscience chided.

But I would.

I couldn't wait. I absolutely couldn't wait to touch her, to possess her, to make her my own. At the house, I guided her through the foyer and stopped with her at the foot of the stairs. The house was dark and quiet.

"Do you have anything sexy to wear in off-white, ivory, beige, something like that?" I asked. "Not pure white. I hate pure white. It looks cheap."

"Yes, Sir," she said, then quickly amended her response at the look on my face. "Yes, Jeremy."

I'd told her I would beat it out of her, and she remembered, because her face went pale.

"I believe this is the second time I'm having to remind you not to call me that. As stated in the contract, you're not to use that form of address. It will only take one slip in public at the wrong time and place."

"I'm sorry."

"Furthermore, 'Please, Master' and 'Please, Sir' are our agreed-upon safe words, which makes your constant use of 'Sir' even more annoying."

"I'm so sorry."

"I'm so sorry, Jeremy."

She only stared back, wide-eyed, too afraid now to say anything for fear of saying it wrong.

"I'll ask once again and hope for the correct reply this time. Do you have anything sexy to wear in off-white or ivory?"

"Yes, Jeremy," she said.

"Go put it on now, and have Bonita show you to my room when you're finished. If you take more than five minutes, I'll double the number of strokes you've earned for addressing me incorrectly."

"Yes, Jeremy."

I went into the kitchen for a quick drink, pretending not to notice the way she took off running up the stairs. Not precisely good form, but it was her first day and it had been a long one, so I let it go. I poured myself a shot of vodka and downed it. I wasn't much of a drinker, but some situations called for a drink, like being alone with a submissive for the first time when you thought you might kill her from the force and intensity of your lust.

I looked at my watch. What time had I sent her upstairs to dress? Ah well, she would be there within five minutes no matter what. A sub as pain-reluctant as Nell wouldn't double her punishment if there was any possible way to avoid it. And Bonita would help her, softhearted woman that she was. I started up the stairs to my bedroom, to gather the things I would need for the introductory scene I had in mind.

I wanted to discipline her again, had thought about it all through dinner, but then convinced myself it was too much too soon. But her lapse of address had allowed the weaker, selfish side of me to change my mind. I pulled a crop out of the closet, not unlike the one I'd cautioned Martin against using earlier in the day. Some nipple clamps, rather strict ones, and a length of thin black leather. A condom. I placed them all in a line on the table at the foot of the bed and started to undress. I loosened my tie and took it off, unbuttoned the top buttons of my shirt, kicked off my shoes and socks, undid my belt and hung it in the closet next to the others. When I returned to the bedroom, she was at the door.

"Come in. Come stand here." I pointed to a spot on the floor purposely near the end table where the implements lay. I looked her up and down as I turned up my sleeves. It was impossible to keep the approval from my expression. I didn't try. As I'd suspected, the ivory corset and stockings she wore set off her bright auburn curls and pale skin perfectly, and she had beautiful, understated matching satin ivory stilettos on her feet. The corset was pretty and old-fashioned and expensive-looking, with some satiny ties and muted soft lace. Exactly the classy sort of slutwear I liked best.

I was going to buy her a hundred negligee sets in ivory. Later. First things first. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to put my hands on her. I took her in my arms and gathered her close. I cupped her ass lightly, then squeezed it hard. She tensed a little, and she was deliciously shivery. I put one hand on the back of her neck to gentle her, to guide her lips to mine. I kissed her hard and thoroughly, testing her reactions. I was thrilled to feel her responsiveness and hear her soft sighs. I loved the way submissives kissed, so restrained on the surface, and yet so passionate underneath. By the end I had her hands pinned firmly behind her back in lovely little fists.

"Turn around," I said quietly. She turned and waited, her lovely ass outlined by the corset and garter laces. At the sight of it, the burgeoning erection in my pants achieved full mast. Jesus. I picked up the black leather string and wound it around her wrists carefully. Not too tight, but tightly enough for her to feel it, securely enough for her to feel restrained. I kissed her nape, then licked her upper back and that lovely curve where her neck met her shoulders. I wanted to eat her alive.

"You're mine," I whispered next to her pale, perfect earlobe.

"Yes, Jeremy," she responded, almost too softly to hear.

I snapped my fingers once, and she dropped to her knees. I snapped again, and she lowered her whole body gracefully forward on the floor. A light nudge on the inside of one ankle and she spread her legs wider, balancing carefully with her hands still bound behind her back.

"Arch just a little more," I said. "There, just like that. You will hold this pose for ten strokes of the crop. If you remain silent and still, you'll only receive five beyond that. If you fidget and scream, you'll receive another ten."

"Yes, Jeremy," she said, bracing herself.

I gave her ten then, not awful strokes, but hard enough. She made some soft, frantic sounds that she tried to muffle in the carpet, doing an acceptable job. Quietness was one of the things I tried to train into my submissives right away. Hotel walls were thin, and it was always embarrassing when security showed up. She was impressively still too, the only movement the fitful squeezing of her bound fists.

"Good girl," I said. "These next ones will be harder, but you will receive only five more. Try to be quiet, as quiet as you can manage."

For the last five, I really laid into her. She continued to be still, even though her urgent mewling grew louder. I drew actual tears, which I'd wanted to do. She was a beautiful crier, her eyes wide and wet when I pulled her to her feet.

"Okay." I placed the crop back on the table. "I hope now the 'Sirs' and 'Masters' are all gone."

"Yes, Jeremy," she whispered.

My gaze was drawn to the lovely expanse of her decolletage, which rose and fell deeply with each sniffling breath. Her beautiful tits were thrust forward from her hands being pinned behind her. Wordlessly I folded over the cups of her corset to expose her breasts, and not surprisingly, I found her nipples rock hard. I reached for the clamps on the side table. She stared as I lifted the small silver devices and held them in my hand.

I said, "Look at me," but she already was. She gasped almost inaudibly as each unforgiving clamp closed on her nipple, and she blinked at the sudden intense and stringent pain. I studied my submissive-corseted, bound, whipped, marked, clamped. Subjugated.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel desperate, Jeremy."

"Desperate for what?"

"Desperate to come."

I put my fingers between her legs to find her wonderfully, copiously wet. She was well trained. She didn't dance around or try to grind her clit against my fingers. She stood still and watched me, breathless and aroused.

"You're not allowed to come without my permission," I reminded her, fingering her mercilessly. "Not ever. Not even in the privacy of your room. Not even if we're five thousand miles away from each other, should that situation ever arise. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jeremy."

I removed my hand and pointed at the floor at my feet, then started to unbutton my pants.

"Normally I would have you undo me yourself, but since you're restrained, I'll do it this time."

"Thank you, Jeremy." She knelt before me in a practiced way that brought her mouth to the perfect angle to receive my cock. Impressive, but the object of tonight wasn't flattery and praise. I rolled on the condom.

"By the way, I'm the only one who's going to be coming tonight, just to drive the lesson home that you belong to me, and that your desire and sexual satisfaction belong to me too."

She looked up from her knees in silent resignation. I tweaked one of the clamps and used my other hand to guide her lips to the jutting cock I offered.

"I'm sure your skills aren't nearly up to my exacting standards, but all I ask for now is that you do your best. Open up."

I held her head and thrust into her mouth quickly and deeply, seating myself all the way in her throat. She gagged, surprised and unbalanced, just as I'd wanted her to. There was no use letting your submissive think she was already talented enough as she was. I let her flounder a little, throwing her off her rhythm every time she found one, gagging her purposely and aggressively a few more times. While Nell tried hard and obviously knew the basics of fellatio, she was far from a pro. Well, there had been a "no sex" clause at her work. It was nothing a whole lot of practice wouldn't fix. Practice was good. And for all I knew, it was the first time she'd done a blowjob without the use of her hands, which were still firmly fixed behind her back.

I purposely took a long time, as long as I could. I was in no hurry to leave her hot, eager mouth. She never gave up, never flagged. I knew she was tired, so her effort touched me all the more. I watched her, spellbound by her drive to please me, until tears began to squeeze from her eyes. I put my hand under her chin.

"Look up." Her eyes popped open, and she gazed up at me, never stopping. I fell in love a little. A couple of tears overflowed and meandered down her cheeks. My cock swelled, and I tightened my hands on her head. I purposely thrust deep and choked her. She pulled away, an instinctive impulse, and immediately apologized, her voice low and raspy.

"Okay," I said. "Again." Slowly this time, I eased into her throat. She tensed. I felt the impulse to escape again, a tiny jerk of her head, but this time she subdued it. "Good girl." I gave one clamped nipple a hard pull. She moaned against my rigid flesh. "Now finish me off."

I let go of her head, let her take over. She devoured me. She bobbed her face up and down on my cock. She was hot, she wanted it. She was hungry. I stared down at her reddened ass and the hands clenched above it, trying to pull loose from their bonds. Did she want to touch me? Did she truly desire me? This felt like more than an act. I'd fucked girls who had an agenda. I recognized it. This felt like something else.

I watched her slender back, the muscles working as she sucked me in and out. A sound rose in my throat, shaken loose from some primal recess of my mind. She moaned in answer, and the vibration of her voice against my rigid dick sent shocks to my balls. I threw my head back and felt the release roll over me. I grabbed her head again and rode out the orgasm from deep inside her throat, jerking against her mouth. The sensation of her lips closing on me, the feel of her hair under my hands. The musky smell of her arousal mixed with mine. The red welts on her ass, the clenched fists trapped by a thin leather lace. I thought I would never forget any of it. Not even when she was gone.

My mind rebelled at that thought. I'd just acquired her. It was too soon to think of letting her go. I loosened my hands and drew away. I patted her hair, too spent to think of words. She knelt patiently in front of me. She was still tearful. Her back still rose up and down as she struggled to slow her breath. I left to take off the condom. When I returned I took her chin in my hand again, tilting her face up to mine. Her wide green eyes met mine, and I saw the question there. Are you pleased?

"Good girl. Up now."

I pulled her to her feet and held her arm just a moment longer than she probably needed to find her balance. I removed the first clamp gently, then licked and sucked her nipple to ease away the sting. I removed the other, giving that sore tit the same soothing treatment. She shuddered and pressed her legs together, made a small plaintive sound, almost too soft to hear. A please... An I beg you...

But no. It would be better to make her wait.

I was soft on a lot of things other doms were strict on, but orgasms were mine, always mine, to control, to dole out, to demand, to withhold. I would not let her come tonight. I kissed her deeply, then tugged and sucked her nipples again, then turned her around to undo the knotted leather tie around her wrists. After I unbound them, I turned her again so we were face to face.

"Show them to me," I said.

She lifted her wrists. The lace had left some indentations but had not chafed or broken the skin. Just to be sure, I brought each wrist to my mouth. I kissed the fine, pale surface there, the tiny crisscross of veins. I caressed them with my tongue. She tasted of faint, cinnamony perfume and the more sexual scent of leather. She kept her eyes cast down, but her chest rose and fell as I licked her wrists and then right up into her lovely, soft palms. My tongue traced the three lines there. What were they called? Heart line? Head line? Life line? Love line.

No, I didn't love her, but I could have licked her forever, every line, every curve, every vein under her skin, every soft hair on her forearms, every wet, hot, secret place. I would too, but not tonight. Instead I only kissed each of her trembling palms lightly, closed her little fists up tight, and said pointedly, "Good night."

Chapter Seven.

The First Time *

I cried myself to sleep. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop the tears.

I tried to convince myself it was only frustration, the fact that he'd made me hotter than anyone had in my life and then decided, deliberately, not to let me come. But that wasn't really the reason, just one aching symptom of a much more encompassing pain.

I'd left his room and padded down the hall in my ivory heels, my most elegant silk corset absolutely untouched and unsoiled, but I felt like the world's dirtiest whore.

It's just an arrangement. You're just doing a job. Get your act together.

When I'd tried for twenty minutes to make myself feel clean again in the shower, I finally let the tears come. It wasn't that anything he'd done to me had been degrading or sordid. It was just the opposite. I had never participated in such an affecting scene.

This was a man I clearly should hate. A man who had trapped me, who was using me in the most selfish way, but instead of feeling hatred for him, when he'd licked my wrists before he dismissed me, I'd nearly cried tears, the same emotional tears that threatened to overwhelm me now. Tears of fearful, fascinated infatuation.

Yes, infatuation was all it was.

No, no, I wasn't falling in love with him. It was ridiculously inappropriate to even dream of feeling that way. Wasn't it?

He'd destroyed my life, my career, reduced me to a contractual comfort object, but all I could think was, I wish he hadn't sent me away.

I lay in his guest room, cold, lonely, horny. I could have reached between my legs and soothed some of the ache away. He never would have known, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. He'd told me it wasn't allowed, and I desperately wanted to obey him already. I was already hopelessly his.

He had said You're mine, whispered it into the hollow of my earlobe. Did he really think of me as his, or did he think of me as Nell, his body for hire? Was he thinking of me right now, lying in bed, as I was thinking of him? Or was it out of sight, out of mind for him?

Well, of course it was. He wouldn't go to the trouble of hiring someone to play his girlfriend in public and his sex toy in private if he wanted to get emotionally involved.

I would need to be so careful, so cautious here.

And I would definitely need to dry my tears.

Jeremy and I spent the next couple of days in a flurry of preparations. We went to the doctor first, or rather the doctor came to us, drew blood, put me through a very thorough and intimate physical to declare me free of disease and in good health.

Then we shopped, and shopped...and shopped. True to his word, he paid for everything I needed for the trip, and for some things I probably didn't even need. Luggage, clothes, gadgets to make traveling easier, and a durable wheeled leather valise for all my mythology books. Dresses, tops, jeans, cardigans, shoes, bathing suits and cover-ups, even though it was early October. And lingerie, what had to be thousands of dollars worth.

Most of the practical items came to the doorstep already selected and paid for by some underling of Jeremy's, Kyle perhaps. The clothing he gave me a budget for, and I went out on my own to put together a nice little wardrobe. He insisted that I dress with my own sense of style, which he professed to like. But the lingerie-we went to buy that together in what amounted to one of the most arousing shopping excursions of my life.

We didn't just pop down to Victoria's Secret. He took me to a small, exclusive boutique I didn't even know existed, a boutique whose tissue paper was out of my price range, much less the fine garments they wrapped in it.

There was no discussion of price, or any visible price tags, only incredibly luxurious and detailed lingerie. I stared in wonder at the fine silk corsets and sighed over perfectly fitted bras. There were risque garter belts and G-strings. And of course, piles and piles of cheeky, impossibly detailed panties. If he insisted my outward appearance be completely my own choices, it was clear my private appearance would be exclusively his.

But I didn't mind, because it was incredibly erotic to be dressed by him. He selected everything carefully, studying me with his cool blue eyes as Madame smoothed the corsets and adjusted the garters. She highlighted the embellishments and features of each garment she produced.

"You see, Monsieur, how beautifully this presents her decolletage," she would point out, and he would agree, running his fingertips over the tops of my rounded breasts thrust above the silk.

Or she would run her hand just beneath the seams of the fine French panties she slid up my legs, pointing out how they exposed the perfect silhouette of the curve of my ass. And he would cup my ass and agree with her in a perfectly normal, modulated voice. "Yes, they suit her well."

I wanted to beg on my hands and knees for sex.

He hadn't touched me since that first night I'd moved into his house. I don't know why he chose not to, and he didn't explain. I hoped that he was just too busy, and I had my own tasks to accomplish before we left, friends to contact, finances to put in order. Still, I waited to be summoned to his room every time he arrived at the house. I would have given anything on earth just to be ordered to suck his cock.

So now, with his gaze all over me in the opulent, private dressing room, I found my breath growing short and my clit growing wet. When Madame finally left us to attend to another customer, Jeremy urged her to take her time. My pussy throbbed as he moved closer to me.

I had on a rum pink bra with small, sexy stays cupping my tits and a matching waist cincher. An intricate garter belt held up silk stockings in the same dusky shade of pink. He didn't say anything in the way of preliminaries, just reached between my thighs and parted me, thrusting his fingers so deep inside that I nearly lost my balance. I clung to him, righting myself, and tried not to moan.

"You're killing me, Nell."

Then I did moan as his fingers slipped out of my slick center to pinch and tease my hard, wet clit. If anyone were killing anyone, it was Jeremy.