Chapter 4
The next week was agony for Alex. All night Thursday and all day Friday and Friday evening she had practiced the moves she had learned. Over and over, stopping only to frig herself off, which was happening with increasing frequency. It was harder for her to make herself come, too, as if she was building up a tolerance to the feelings. She was still horny as Hell, her nipples and clit sticking out even in sleep. It amused her, sort of, but it was distracting.
Still, she worked hard. For Harold, she kept telling herself. Then she would think, Shit, who was she kidding? She was only working this hard because of Mr. Smith. She would have quit days ago if it was just Harold.
When Harold came out of the shower Saturday morning, he found he had no clothes to wear. She had taken them all and hidden them. Playfully, she sat him in one of the kitchen table chairs and proceeded to give him what she had learned was called a 'lap dance.' With her on top, a first for her, and Harold, too, apparently, she was more in control and he lasted for several minutes before spraying his goo all over the inside of her thighs. As he was still semi-erect, Alex tried to re-insert him, but Harold pushed her off of him, dumping her unceremoniously on the floor. Almost. She had almost managed to come. She was elated. She was on the right track.
Harold went out early Sunday morning, foregoing the early Mass they had been attending together at the neighborhood church. He didn't come back for Sunday lunch and Alex carefully wrapped the expensive roast she had prepared. When he came in he threw down some betting slips and cursed her, as if it were her fault. He had gone to the race track and had lost heavily.
The rent was due this week and Harold left Monday morning without leaving any money for that or for groceries.
Harold was in a piss poor mood when he came home on Wednesday night. He had been passed over for the new position. In fact, Jeremy Hobbs, the son-of-a-bitch, had managed to take away his best clients as well as snatching the job he had wanted. He was either going to have to find more clients on his own for this fucking company or go on part-time. The Goddamn fucking ass-holes. Then, to top it off, Jeremy fucking Hobbs had shown up in his favorite bar to celebrate, so the bartender knew Harold hadn't gotten the new job he had been bragging about. The jerk couldn't even find his own bar, but had to take that away from him, too. Then the fucking bartender had made him settle up his tab, taking most of his fucking paycheck.
The final straw was his fucking wife, wanting to fucking do it. Again. Well, he had showed her. He had slapped the bitch a couple of times to shut her up, then ripped off her fucking granny panties and thrown her over the back of the couch. He was so drunk he was going to last a long time tonight, he knew it.
Her sopping cunt was so loose and sloppy he couldn't get a good grip. Spying her tiny asshole winking up at him he pulled out and positioned his mighty cudgel at the virgin entrance. It only took a thrust or two in her dried orifice and he was finished, leaving her sobbing on the hardwood floor. Best fuck he'd had out of her yet. More than the bitch deserved. She hadn't even made him his fucking dinner on time.
Alex had lain on the floor until she heard Harold snoring. He had come home two hours late and drunk. She had tried to keep his dinner warm, but had finally given up. Excited to finally see him, she had been playful, hoping to excite him. He had rebuffed her advances at first, then had suddenly struck out and slapped her. Hard, across the face.
On the one hand it had hurt, terribly, and the bruises on her face would show for weeks. Mostly she had been surprised by his violent reaction. On the other hand, his roughness had sent a thrill through her, at first. Even after he hit her and tossed her carelessly over the couch, it hadn't been that bad. The anal intrusion had burned a little, but when he had emptied himself in her bowels she had cum with him. For the first time, ever, with him. It hurt that it was in anger.
What had hurt more had been the words he had tossed at her this morning. When he was sober. He didn't love her. She was a burden to him. He was going to leave her. In one ugly moment, her beautiful dreams of the life she thought they were making together were shattered. There could be no more delusions. There was also no money on the table. The rent was due tomorrow.
She lay there weeping after he had gone. It was as if that part of her life was over. Dead. Just like Aunt Shirley's and Uncle Roger's marriage. Mom said they only stayed together because no one else would fight with them. It was a loveless relationship and painful to watch, especially at Thanksgiving. It filled her with dread to imagine her life like that.
It never entered her mind not to go to the club today. To go to Mr. Smith. She would not have understood if someone would have tried to explain to her that she was simply replacing one man for another. All she knew was that she needed to see him. Her Mr. Smith.
Alex dressed in her blouse and skirt and went to the club. The reassuring click of the ornate door as it opened to welcome her almost made her cry. She belonged here. She had her own code.
Silently she walked down the hall to the office. The building was empty, but his deep voice called her into his presence. She closed the door behind her. She was trembling.
Damon wasn't surprise to see Alex show up. He would have bet money on it and he hated to lose a bet. He had a complete report from last night's activities. He should have. He had arranged the whole thing, except what happened in their shabby apartment. And thanks to Harold, that had been predictable, as well.
It didn't surprise him that she was trembling. If he wanted, he knew could fuck her right now. That wasn't what he wanted. No, he wanted to control her, totally, with her consent, then squeeze the life out of her, one day at time, to use her up. Then toss away the empty carcass. It wasn't anything personal. It was what drove him, his internal demon. Some men got off on cars, or skydiving, or other thrills. He got off on control. Life and death control.
He pushed the button to the bathroom and Alex went in without being told and removed her undergarments and shoes. She brought them back to him and he again took obvious pleasure in touching her still warm clothing. She didn't know it, but she was surrendering herself, her will to him. Even her body heat and the fresh moisture on her panties. Bit by bit, he would take control from her.
She stood before him, her head bowed. Touching a finger to her chin, he tilted her face to the harsh light from his desk lamp as he had before. This time her face wasn't perfect. The swelling had gone down a bit, but the discoloration had started. Without makeup the bruises were very visible. Harold had backhanded her across the cheekbone and most of the damage was from that. Damon was sorry she had been hurt, but it had been one of the risks he had to take to break her emotional bond with her husband.
He had learned a lot about this woman. Divorce didn't seem to be an option in her family. He couldn't find one dissolved marriage ever, and he had looked a long way back. Loveless marriages, yes, but no divorces. So she was used to total and irrevocable commitment in relationships, exactly the kind of commitment he wanted from her, but in a slightly different type of relationship.
What would surprise him would be if Alex asked him for money today. He knew about the rent being due and that Harold didn't leave any money. Harold didn't have any money to leave and was already borrowing at the race track. Yes, he had learned a lot about this intriguing woman in the last few weeks. Other women would have prostituted themselves for the money in a heartbeat, but he didn't think she would even have considered it.
When she danced for him today, he stood close behind her and let her feel his excitement. She cried as he pressed himself against her moving buttocks, but she kept up the dance. She was doing much better and in the next couple of weeks would proceed to actually removing her clothing. Damon found he was looking forward to that.
He tied her into the chair this time with wide Velco straps. There was no pretense of her getting loose on her own. The game was now serious and they both knew it. When he tightened the last strap around her chest she looked up at him.
"Thank you," she said simply, a final tear falling down her cheek.
Nodding understandingly he took a small rubber ball from his pocket.
"Open your mouth please, Alex."
She did. He pressed the ball behind her teeth. It was not a tight fit, but it was large enough so that she would not be in danger of swallowing the ball. It was also large enough to show the material of the ball between her teeth and the bright red color leapt out at him.
"You look pretty tied up and gagged, Alex. Do you enjoy it as much as I do?" he asked her. He had knelt down beside her.
Her green eyes were shining brightly as she vigorously nodded her assent. He leaned over to her and she tilted her head towards him. He kissed her forehead and felt the tremors passing through the bound girl.
"If you wish to quit today, simply spit out the ball. I know you are in pain, but I would really like you to get through this for me." God, he was good. She wouldn't leave now if he pulled out her fingernails. He knew. He'd done that once.
The pictures started, and with no fear of breaking the bonds, Alex let herself go. She worked her butt on the chair as much as she could and forced her nipples up and down against the rough cloth of her blouse, straining for even the slightest amount of stimulation. She grunted and groaned, the sweat soon soaking her blouse and making it transparent.
Damon sat where she could see him, perched on the edge of the console. Her attention was riveted to the screens for the most part, but when her breathing would turn ragged and her body would shudder, she would focus on him.
She was progressing nicely, he thought.
Alex found the envelope on her kitchen table when she got home that evening. The rent money was inside and even a little extra. Harold must have felt guilty, come back and left if for her. She felt a twinge of guilt, too, about visiting the club today, but not enough to change her mind about going back again. And again.
Harold had made his decision, too. Alex could still see the evidence of it every time she looked in the mirror.
Being called into the boss's office on a Friday night had never been a happy experience for Harold. He already had his cubicle cleaned out and packed into boxes, the stolen office supplies hidden at the bottom of the cartons, before he stepped into the fucking asshole's office at five minutes before 5:00. He walked out two minutes later in a daze.
A promotion! A temporary transfer to a sister company and in another state. But a Goddamn, shit-eating promotion. Finally, those fucking assholes had recognized his talent, if not his genius.
Harold celebrated heavily before arriving home that night. Alex sat quietly at the dinner table waiting for him to come back out from the bedroom and his shower, but Harold had fallen asleep cross-wise on the bed not leaving any room for her. Alex slept on the couch.
The next two days were a whirlwind of packing and buying new clothes for Harold on credit. Credit they didn't have, as near as Alex could tell. Harold kept referring to a new promotion or something, so Alex finally quit asking. She didn't quit worrying. Sunday night Harold packed all his belongings into the back of his Chevy and left for his temporary assignment. He would be gone a month, then he would be back for a brief meeting, then he would be gone another month.
He never made arrangements to send her any money. Worse, he seemed to have forgotten about their anniversary coming up. Their first.
In the silence of their now half-empty apartment, the only sounds were those of tears falling onto the cracked linoleum floor. Alex wept bitterly at the loss of her hopes and her dreams. She had been abandoned. But she was not alone nor was she defeated.
Tuesday morning, Alex dried her tears and never looked back. Harold was gone. She had to survive. She needed money. She needed a job.
In a very organized and systematic fashion Alex began to canvas the local merchants. First in the immediate neighborhood, then in increasingly greater distances from her apartment. Amazingly, she found nothing. She would probably have not been so amazed if she had noticed the quiet little man who followed her into each store and had a few quiet words with the management. No one called her with a job.
Two weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, exhausted from her fruitless job search, she discovered an envelope shoved under the door of her apartment on her return. There was no postage on the envelope and no return address. Just her name. Inside was a wad of cash with a note from a stranger to the effect that this was Harold's per diem money that he had forgotten to pick up. It was enough to pay the rent for several months and to pay off all the credit charges Harold had run up. First, she cried. The she went out and immediately paid off all the stores where they owed money. She felt no need to tell Harold about the money.
Back in her apartment, freed from the immediate necessity to earn money, Alex realized she had not gone to the club for a long time. She had not seen Mr. Smith this week or last and she felt a pang of regret. More than that. She felt a pang lower down, between her thighs. With a sudden start, it dawned on her that thinking of the mysterious Mr. Smith made her horny and happy! She laughed for the first time in two weeks. It felt good. Better, she decided to go to the club. She needed to see him. Desperately.
Without stopping to plan what she was going to do, she grabbed her coat and headed for the bus stop. She caught the bus, transferred downtown and in the gathering gloom of twilight arrived at the deserted doorway of the club.
Damon had set the security system to notify him whenever Alex' code was entered. The pager went off just as he was finishing a telephone call. He was very satisfied with the way things were working out, and Alex' arrival couldn't have been timed more perfectly.
She entered his office at his brusque command.
"I missed you this last two weeks, Alex," he stated. "Were you too busy for me?"
"Yes. Uhm, no."
"Alex?"
"Yes?"
"Say 'Sir.' For now, you should always address me as 'Sir.' Do you understand?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide, brimming with tears. "Yes. Uh, Sir."
"Does that upset you, Alex?"
"Oh, no, Sir!"
"Then why the tears?"
"I'm so happy, Sir. And a little afraid, too, I guess. Sir."
"That's good, my Pet. You should always be a little afraid," he said with a sad smile. He looked at her clothing. She had not thought about coming here for a session, only to be with him, but she was still wearing the blouse and skirt. And undergarments.
"You may change in the bathroom, Alex," he said dismissively. He pressed the button under his desk and the door hissed open.
"But --," she began, then stopped as he looked up at her sharply, daring her to continue. She headed for the bathroom.
"And Alex?"
She turned just at the door. "Yes, Sir?"
"You may leave your blouse unbuttoned when you return." He turned to some papers on his desk, leaving the wide-eyed girl to make her own decision.
It was several minutes later when a trembling figure stood beside his desk, her head down. She was frightened, but there were no tears. Damon finished reading the memo, signed the appropriate line on a contract, signed off his computer and cleaned up his desk, putting all the sensitive material in a locked drawer. Standing, he perched himself on one butt cheek on the edge of his desk in front of the silent girl.
Silently he took the clothing and shoes from her hands and went through the ritual they had established in the sessions prior. The neatly folded garments were put away in the drawer. The silence weighed heavily in the room.
"I missed you, Alex."
"Yather." Her head was so far down she was mumbling. Damon took a finger and placed it under her chin and raised it up until her eyes met his. She hadn't flinched when he touched her. Her bruises were faded, a memory. She didn't look away now.
"What did you say?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Were you busy?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Too busy to see me?" He let a note of exasperation creep into his voice. Actually, he was very pleased she had not rushed to him, begging for money or a job. And he enjoyed making her squirm. She did it so nicely.
"I was looking for work, Sir."
"Oh." He was silent for several seconds, as if he was thinking. "Did you find a job?"
"No, Sir."
"So, is that why you're here? You need work? Money?" He threw the accusation at her, knowing it was false.
A horrified look crossed Alex' face. "Oh, NO, Sir!" She looked at him, pleading with her eyes for him to understand that that was never her intention. Her near nudity was forgotten. "I should go, Sir," she said finally.
He let her get almost to the door.
"How will you get home?"
"Sir?" she asked, turning back to him.
"The last bus left ten minutes ago. There won't be another one until 5:30 tomorrow morning."
It didn't surprise her that he knew she took the bus. She just stood there, defeated. It wasn't too far to walk. She had grown up in the country and had walked farther than that many times. But not through a dark and dangerous city. Not a pretty young girl alone.
"Should I call you a taxi, Alex?" His hand was on the telephone.
"No, Sir. I can't afford a taxi. Sir." She didn't even think of asking him for cab fare. Damon smiled.
"Well, then. I guess I could take you home after work if you like. You did want to see what we did here, right?" Tonight a special group had reserved the club. It would be an eye-opener for the innocent girl as well as establish some other precedents. "What do you say to that?"
Alex' eyes were wide with excitement. Her feelings were reeling from the emotional whiplash Mr. Smith had just put her through, but right now she was elated. "Oh, yes, Sir. That would be wonderful. Sir."
"Well, then. Let's get you ready, shall we?" He pulled the questioning girl into the bathroom. With practiced skill he gathered her luxurious hair into several bundles behind her head. In short order, he had plaited her hair into an attractive braid that fell, perfectly centered down the back of her neck.
After the first moments of uncertainty, Alex relaxed as she felt his knowing hands working on her hair. More than anything that had happened between them before, this quiet moment cemented her trust in this strange and wonderful man. This man who was perfectly comfortable with women's undergarments and had the skill of a hairdresser. Yet there was no doubt at all in Alex' mind that this man was all man, especially if that was what she thought it was pressing into her back.
She shifted slightly, edging back into Mr. Smith and watched him smile briefly at her in the mirror. Blushing, she saw she had been caught. But she didn't pull away. Neither did he.
"Tonight is a special party," he said as he finished her hair. "There will be some women there, but it wouldn't be safe for you to be out there on your own. Sometimes the people at these parties get a little carried away and it gets a little rough. So, what we'll do is make sure that everyone knows you are spoken for, OK?"
Alex nodded. She hadn't moved from her spot in front of him, her back was pressed against his abdomen. She could feel his swelling. It took her breath away. Mr. Smith let her stand there until she began to grind her hips against his groin. He pulled back just a bit and she let out an unintended moan.
Taking both her shoulders in his strong hands he guided her back into the office. From a drawer in his desk he took several items and laid them out for her inspection. She tentatively reached out her hand and traced their gleaming surfaces with the tips of her fingers.
"For me, Sir?" she asked him.
"Yes. Do they frighten you?"
"Will you be with me while I am wearing them, Sir?"
"Yes."
"It will please you for me to wear them, Sir?"
"Yes."
"Then I will wear them. But, Sir?
"Yes?"
"They do frighten me. Sir."
Damon laughed a deep booming laugh. He enjoyed this woman. She surprised him and it pleased him. That was rare. He saw her looking up at him, a worried look on her face. "Don't be alarmed, my Pet. You will never leave my side tonight. You will be perfectly safe."
Taking the heavy steel handcuffs off the desk he stepped behind Alex. She gave him her hands without hesitation.
"Are they too tight?" he asked.
Alex stood there, working her shoulders and arms, testing the strength of her bonds. She wasn't struggling, trying to escape, but simply pulling her arms this way and that. Her face was a study in concentration. He watched her for a while.
"Alex? Are they too tight?"
The expression on her face was priceless as she looked up at him.
"I - uh, I'm - " She started, then stopped. She just looked perplexed.
"Are they too tight? Do they hurt?" Damon was beginning to get worried and stepped behind her to check.
"No, Sir," she answered. "They don't hurt. But I don't know if they are too tight. I'm sorry, Sir, but I have never worn them before. I don't know how they are supposed to fit. But, no, they don't hurt."
He gave a short guffaw, followed by a longer laugh. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down in his chair.
"Did I say something wrong, Sir?"
Drying his eyes with his fingers he looked up at her and gave her a warm smile. "No, my Pet. But thank you for reminding me just how much I have to take care of you. I will try to explain everything that happens tonight so that you will know what is going on. Some things that I take for granted will seem very strange to you. I don't want you to be frightened."
He picked up a thick collar. Stepping behind her he fastened it snuggly behind her neck. It locked on and he pocketed the key. He attached a chrome leash to the D-ring in the front and let it hang down between her breasts. The cold metal raised goose bumps on the bare flesh.
That left one piece of equipment left on the table. He picked it up and held it for her to see.
"Do you know what this is?"
She looked at it closely. "Do you whip me with it?"
He grinned. "No. But if you forget to call me 'Sir' again, I will whip you, Alex."
"Yes, Sir. No, Sir. I don't know what it is for."
He stood up and held it up to her mouth. "The ball goes in your mouth. The straps are tied behind your head to keep it in. At some point tonight you will wear it."
"Yes, Sir." Alex continued to look at the ballgag. "It is very large, Sir. Why must I wear it? Have I displeased you, Sir?"
Damon smiled down at his nubile pupil affectionately. "You will wear it because it pleases me to see you wearing it. I told you that you are beautiful when you are bound and gagged, remember? Do you need another reason?"
"Oh, no, Sir! Would you like me to wear it now? Please, Sir?"
"No, not now. Don't be too eager, my Pet. There will be a certain discomfort involved. It is a big ball." He slipped the ballgag into his jacket pocket.
He stood looking at her. She met his gaze, not wavering from his eyes even as his hands reached towards her and opened her unbuttoned blouse. The spread halves of the shirt exposed her naked breasts to his gaze for the first time. Tearing his eyes from her sparkling green ones he allowed his dark ones to feast on the unblemished vista. Alex closed her eyes, her breathing rapid and shallow.
She moaned and shook with a small climax as his thumbs lightly caressed her twin nipples.
"Perfect," he said to no one in particular.
Then, with just that simple caress, he took the tails of her shirt and knotted them firmly under her tits. The cut of her shirt with her arms bound behind her and the adequate size and firmness of her breasts made the opening gap widely, leaving ready visual access to her charms.
He stood and studied her for a moment.
"I like it," he said. "It's a good look for you."
"You'll get a good look, too, Sir, as will everyone else," she quipped back. She had to look down her nose to see what everyone else would be able to see.
"Does that bother you, Alex?"
"No, Sir. The question is, Does it bother you, Sir?"
He laughed happily this time at her remark and, in answer, picked up her leash and slipped it over his wrist.
With a gentle tug he led her out into the club.