"Stop."

Incredulous, I opened my eyes.

Klaus shook his finger. "No."

Obedience had become second nature. I withdrew my hand and despite the throbbing in my groin, I waited, still with my groin presented for him.

"Hop off, turn around and lie your front on the counter with your ass out for me to see."

Like most of his recent commands, I could see little if any emotion behind it. Yet I knew he must be aroused. The bulge in his jeans said so. That, got me going. I loved the thought I could do this. I didn't care if he wanted to thrash my rear end and make me scream. I wanted to please him.

Oh fuck. Bad. I'm going down some Alice in Kinkyland rabbit hole here.

I slid off, wriggling as my poor bottom stuck here and there. Then I turned, and lay on the counter, my breasts on the cool top, so I was showing him my ass. I waited. My awfully loud clock on the wall ticked like crazy. I shifted, arched, and presented my ass even higher, knowing what a wanton slut I must look like. That got me even hotter.

"You look so fuckable."

Those words riveted me to the spot. Klaus hardly ever swore.

As his finger toyed with the edge of my entrance, slowly swirling around, stretching me, my eyelids fluttered at the pleasure. Then he stopped.

"This first. To clear the slate."

He struck my ass with his hand, twice. The slaps rang in the little kitchen and left me panting, head on the counter, mouth agape as I huffed hot breaths into the laminate. That, I'd liked. So hot. It hurt but the afterglow had made my whole lower body come alive in the very best way.

I heard the unzip of his jeans.

His cock pressed into my entrance.

I quivered, waited, felt the slow push and slide inside. The slow stretch. Oh God.

"Doing good, Jodie. Do not move."

I didn't. But I groaned as he pushed his cock in, and then out. The shunting movement was so excruciatingly gradual that I wanted to thrust back. But I didn't. I was good. I bit my forearm, and let him do it all. A climax built and built as he kept going, fucking me slowly. He paused, balls deep, so deep I was filled to the brim and gasping, groaning.

"Now, I'm stopping. I'm going to fuck your mouth instead. I'm coming inside your mouth, with your juices on my dick, and you will swallow."

Then he pulled out and was gone.

I keened.

I fucking keened. I wanted him back in. I wiggled my butt, enticing him. One. More. Thrust.

"No." He slapped my butt gently. "Turn. Kneel. Open your mouth."

This, was pushing it. Blow jobs, I could do, but when I wanted him inside me so fiercely? I slumped with my forehead to the laminate. Then I did as he ordered. Exactly. I slipped to my knees.

And I opened my mouth, knowing what he intended. I met his eyes.

"Eyes down, Jodie," he said quietly.

I did it. I let myself just be. I'd never tasted myself but that somehow made this better. I thrilled to the thought of being used.

With his hands on the counter to either side of my head, he thrust into my mouth, slow enough to let me get used to his bulk inside me there. Saliva built, slickening. He almost reached the back of my throat. I coughed, gagged, but he stayed there. I could do this. Had before. I swallowed desperately, eyes watering. Then he began to fuck my mouth in earnest. The rhythmic in and out let me catch my breath just enough. Just. Enough.

"That's. Good," he said huskily.

His thrusts intensified and his cock went in and out faster, harder. At last I felt the thickening and pulse as he came. His hands wrapped in my hair. His cum jetted down my throat. Semen reminded me of bad oysters, but I gulped it down and when he withdrew, I swallowed air, gulped some more.

When he released my hair, I looked upward, pleading with my eyes. Now, me?

"No." He shook his head. "Now we eat. Rule. You stay on the floor when you eat."

Crap. He had to be joking.

No. He was not.

The plate was in front of me as I kneeled beside his chair. I stared down at it. Klaus ruffled my hair with his hand and passed me the maple syrup. I looked up at him and he gave me a small knowing smile, as if he waited to see what I'd do.

With my palms on my knees, I frowned again at the plate, thinking, trying to decide where I was at.

I was going to do this.

I didn't know what it was about the situation that drew me. But I thought it revolved around belonging to him so deeply that it felt right. It was novel, thrilling and comforting. I could let him turn my ass black and blue, let him fuck me when he wanted and yet still be happy.

This was life brought down to its most primitive elements. Relying on someone else for everything.

For a supposedly pretend thing, this situation was becoming ever more surreal. But also ever more addictive. One day this would end, and where would our relationship be then? Where did I want it to be?

A memory came to me of one Valentine's Day when we'd fed each other strawberries and chocolates down at the cafe on the beach. I'd threatened to bite his finger, but sucked it instead, in humorous, teasing way. He'd made me laugh that day. I'd never have let him, that him, do what Klaus had done to me just now. I'd have chewed him up and spit him out.

When I got angry with him back then, he'd mostly just sit and take it. Sometimes, he'd frown. Sometimes he'd explain why I was wrong, and sometimes he'd end up sulking and not talking to me for a day or two. And that, I realized, had made me despise him, just a little.

If I snapped at him now, even spoke out of turn, he'd have me facedown and caned so quickly. A shiver ran through me, cold and fast. Goosebumps. I stared some more at the floor. God. I liked this new firmness. I did. I must be mad.

Unhurried, I poured some syrup on, gave it back to him, took up the knife and fork, and I began to eat. On the other side of the coin, I was famished. He could have fed me whale blubber outside on the lawn and I would have eventually obeyed him.

When we'd eaten, I reluctantly washed up. Upholding the feminist tradition of self-righteousness and self-reliance was too ingrained for me to feel that doing this for a man, providing for him, was right. It always screwed with my sense of me.

The last dish dried, I turned to find Klaus there, crowding me back. By covering both my hands with his and pressing down, he nailed my hands to the counter top to either side. Then he kissed me thoroughly until I was afire again. I angled forward, grinding my hips against him. But no relief was in sight.

"You can come in a few days, if you behave." He lowered his lips to mine and this time, he slipped his knee between my legs. The heavy muscle of his thigh was right where I couldn't escape it. My arms stayed pinned out to the sides, and with my smaller body jammed into the counter by his weight, I could do nothing as he kissed me some more, breathing hotly into my mouth.

This was as restrictive as bondage. As freeing. I stopped struggling and gave in. When he ceased kissing me, I was shaking and my head was bowed back. He let me up and put his finger on my poor assaulted lips then rolled out my bottom lip a little. A familiar place for his finger. I licked him and delicately sucked his finger in a half-inch inch or so. Watching him, watch me suck on him, while I could feel the length of his erection against me, ahh, I couldn't help myself. I moaned and spread my legs some more.

Mirth danced in his eyes but his thigh pressed on me harder, teasing me deliberately. "So desperate, Jodie? Be good. A few days only."

Behave for a few days? I screwed up my forehead trying to convey my question.

But he only laughed. "I think you'll know what to do. Look at how well you've learnt not to speak. Think about that if anything. Think about what it does to you, not being able to talk. Say it to the camera, behave for me, and you can come."

Philosophy 101? Then I get to come? Wow.

I should have wanted to smack his face for that. But no. I would have kneeled and sucked his cock all day for how that had made me feel. Having to wait for permission to come, it just grabbed me somehow.

Slut.

You just did not do this. Not.

Why simply slut, I thought. This was more. Slave?

Documentary. I yanked myself up short with that. Remember? Pretend?

Was it though? I was finding it hard to tell. So goddamned hard. I liked this. Somehow...I liked it.

I was good for three days. I was so good I would have made my old self vomit. I did what Klaus asked me to. I cleaned naked, I cooked naked, I kneeled at his feet, also naked. I bent over when he asked and let him touch me and I protested not at all...apart from whining when he stopped touching me. I lost count of how many times he stirred me up then left me aroused and unfulfilled. Excruciating. Yet I wanted more of what he did.

On the third morning, when he let me into the downstairs room for my morning monologue, I tried to say to the camera something of what he asked me to.

"Not being able to talk to you," I began. "What does it do to me?"

I was kneeling on the floor mattress and sitting square to the camera like some little disciple talking to her mentor or sensei. Corny, but it felt right. And I was beginning to like the feel of doing things right.

"It means I don't have to spend time wondering what to say next. If something is absolutely important to me, I think I manage to say that through body language. Yes, damn you, Klaus, I have learned to hold my tongue. I can see now that we humans tend to waste time saying a lot of stuff that is either negative or unnecessary. We waffle our way through life.

"This way..." I licked my lips and looked up at the camera from the corner of my eyes. This next bit was close to the bone for me as it made me remember him touching me intimately. "This way I can feel more. I don't get so distracted. I hear, I feel, maybe I even smell and taste things better. There. I said it." I shrugged. "That's it. That's all I figured out so far."

Funny, when I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs I realized something enormous-I'd forgotten to say anything about the documentary.

We hadn't had breakfast yet and when we reached the kitchen, I saw he'd put out all the ingredients for a big Aussie breakfast-mushrooms, bacon, eggs, tomato, the toaster and fry pan. Before I could do anything he stopped me with his hand on my arm.

"Wait. You're wearing this today." Then he squatted and gestured for me to step into a red circle of silk and chiffon. No underwear, just a skirt. The waistband came up to below my belly button. Curious, I checked with my fingers, and found the hem ended just above the lowest hint of my butt. A little red bra top made the set. He helped me on with that too and went round behind me to fasten it at the back.

"Gorgeous." I felt his hand on my curve of my ass, lifting the skirt. "Sexy and it'll just show me a hint of your little cunt when you go up the stairs. If I'm behind you. Which I will be a lot, today." There was both lust and amusement in his voice.

Then his teeth sank into the muscle between my neck and shoulder. The sudden pain transfixed me. His warm tongue licked the teeth marks. As he bit me and sucked, I shuddered. I was already moistening-a sexual reflex which now hit whenever Klaus touched me. Like I was automatically primed and prepared, ready for him. Though biting was pure distilled ecstasy.

With one arm wrapped across below my breasts, holding me still, and his hand on my hip, he used his teeth, lips and tongue to mark a trail from my nape to my shoulder. Soon I was a quivering, panting mess of a woman offering her neck for him to do anything he wanted.

"Good girl." He patted my ass one more time and I heard him step back. My neck stung nicely. In this little kitchen one proper step back meant he'd be against the wall. I gulped in a few breaths and let the haze of lust lessen before I turned.

Good girl was damned insulting, or so I used to believe. But from his mouth it now became the greatest compliment. Odd, how the mind changes. The perverse and kinky became acceptable. An insult became a compliment. What next?

In his right hand Klaus held a crop. The rectangular tip rested on the top of his bare foot. He waited for me to start breakfast. As always, that he was dressed in board shorts and T-shirt emphasized how under-dressed I was. No underwear beneath this skirt, for some weird reason made me feel even more aware of my femaleness than when I'd been naked.

If I made breakfast without being told would I get to come? The little skirt, and how carefully he'd dressed me, handled me, and that glorious biting-it made me want him so much I ached.

Underneath the concealing chiffon my clit was sitting up and pretty much begging. I wanted to him to make love to me. I wanted to get to come and not just be a fuck toy like the day before. Had I been good enough, though?

I eyed the crop. He hadn't hit me with anything for ages, only little pats on my behind. Like maybe he was sparing me? He cared that I was bruised? Yet I remembered how he'd adored caning me. That, I hated, but the crop, surely that couldn't hurt as much?

I...I just clicked. I wanted to see where this would lead me. Demeaning? Maybe. No worse than before, except that I was going to set it in motion.

I breathed in deeply then I went to my knees. I crawled to him and I put my hand to the crop and tugged uncertainly, afraid I looked silly. His mouth was straight and tight. His eyes blazed gray-green and fearsome. Right then you could have told me the sun was that color and I would've believed you. I swallowed, paralyzed. Then the corners of his lips curved.

He likes this.

And that, God, that thought gave rise to another-I loved pleasing him.

Klaus released the crop into my grasp. I put it in my mouth then I returned to the counter, making sure I waggled my butt as I crawled. I stood and lay on the counter as I had the morning before, then I reached back and balanced the crop across my lower back. Tantalizing, inches from my ass. I figured the picture that presented would be near on irresistible. I could feel his gaze on me there, between my legs, where I knew my lower lips were already swelling. I swallowed and waited. I was a soda pop bottle all shaken and about to explode.

And so I waited for him to decide what to do. I hazed out just a little. Waiting, forever.

Right then, I succumbed and gave myself to Klaus. The only man who'd ever made me his.

Chapter Fourteen.

Klaus *

I nearly swallowed my tongue. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me. I knew Jodie read books about women being captured by men and subdued, sometimes even raped. She read them because something in the stories attracted her. I knew that what I'd gotten her to do would never have worked at all with many women. So why the surprise when she begged for the crop, basically flaunted her pussy at me, then presented her rear end to be cropped or fucked or whatever I wanted to do with it?

Because it was like a step into another world. A world where she had said in explicit body language, this could become us.

Damn.

I had that right didn't I?

Christ, I hoped so.

I stepped up to her, rested my hand on her butt cheek and stroked it while I retrieved my crop. I drank in everything about this position she'd assumed.

The blue sky in the window beyond and the cream counter top framed her upper body. She lay there flat with her peach-shaped ass peeking naked from under the red skirt. The line of her bare slit glistened with her moisture. The bruises on her skin were fading but still evident as dots of heavy blue black. The slope of her long legs led the eye downward to the ankle cuffs and her dainty feet. Her toes scuffled on the floor, flexing, releasing. She waited for me to act. To choose.

Under my hand her warm butt tensed and relaxed.

Some of the possibilities ran through my head. One of them was needles. I'd seen pictures on the net of them being used. I had some in the box of toys I'd collected. Sterile, unused, safe. I could see myself slowly pushing one through her skin, could feel her quiver and squeal, see her eyes dilate. My groin tightened. I gulped and cleared my throat. Jesus. No.