Page 30 of Force Me To Obey


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“No doubt,” he agreed, looking about the studs for a second. Then he looked back at me, while my own eyes were unexpectedly fixed on him. An intense shiver rose up through my body causing it to quake. The feeling fled in a second, but it left its message.

A breathtaking silence descended around us, as we stood frozen in place apparently unable to move forward. But then I broke the spell, having come to the obvious conclusion, “You are going to punish me, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I’m going to punish you, Skye,” he answered calmly, almost like a reprimanding father. “What did you expect? My only concern is how to deal with the mountain of offenses you’ve committed in the last forty-eight hours. It’s one thing to punish matters of civility with stern lectures and a good paddling on your ass; there’s no good explanation for your behavior in boardroom, except jealousy and spite. But then you complicate matters, disobeying the basic rule that makes our agreement work. Fucking Roddy Morgan in the company basement is not only a breach in company policy and a slap in the face of decency, for which you’ve been warned, it goes against the premise of what you and I are about.”

I knew that.

Assuming he wanted to make me feel six inches tall, he certainly did a fine job. He couldn’t have spelled out my crimes better, or tapped into my guilty feelings more effectively. I really wanted to cry and plead with him; my desperation was that great. But instead of going meek and humble, I did what I often do when faced with a tricky situation, wherein I feel the need for self-defense: I spit out the first thought that pops into my brain, regardless of the fact that it sounds like an attack.

“You mean you find fucking in the company basement a slap in the face of decency worse than the things you make me do every time it suits your sick, horny fantasy?” His logic seemed a little quirky and I just had to point that out. In the instant, my question seemed justified, even though I regretted it as soon as I said the words.

I think he handled it well. I expect he just wanted to haul off and slap me, which in master/slave circles, I no doubt deserved. I probably would have been strung from the ceiling of the house on North Street in short order.

“You aren’t very smart, Skye, if you haven’t figured out by now that there’s one set of rules for behavior at Lloyd & Lockhart, and an entirely different set of rules you and I have agreed to. Different logic, different rules, but we’ve agreed to both. It’s up to you to know when one set of rules applies and the other does not. What we do together may not make sense to the world that doesn’t enjoy our sexual inclinations, but as long as it works for you and me, then what the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter. If I ask you to strip nude in front of a crowd of strangers, you do it, not because it’s proper behavior but because you want to, because it makes our relationship what it is. The rule is, however, I’m the only person who gets to make that kind of kinky decision for you. When you don’t have me telling you what to do, you behave according to the rules of common decency. This should be obvious, Skye.” He looked at my vacant face, wondering. “Or, are you impaired in your thinking?

I shook my head, “No, sir. I’m not impaired.” I’d had time enough to get things straight in my whacked out brain. I didn’t need the lecture to understand his point, I’d understood it with the first queasy feeling I had following my revenge on Susan, and the next queasy feeling I had letting Roddy fuck me. I’d simply ignored them both.

“That’s nice to hear,” he replied. “Now get undressed.”

I wasn’t shocked to hear his order, but I was petrified for what might come.

Like some weird movie, creepy sounds began to surface all around me. The sounds of hammers, car engines, saw blades and voices. The place was coming alive like it should have been on a Wednesday morning. The effect was bizarre and disturbing, as if the world had suddenly changes dimensions, for a time lost in that unpeopled place where only Preston and I existed. I was glad to be back in the land of the living, but it only made my impending punishment more frightening, to realize that any moment someone might discover me naked.

As I hastily removed my clothes, I looked into the rafters and winced. Preston could have a field day with so many places to put me in bondage. I expected ropes, cuffs, all the necessary paraphernalia and I wasn’t disappointed. As I was undressing, Preston pulled a long length of black hemp from the satchel he’d brought with him. He proceeded to bind me in a rope-dress of intersecting, intertwining ropes, beginning at my neck, wrapping my torso and descending into my crotch, where an overhand knot rested intentionally over my clit. My arms and legs were free to move, but not without tugging at the ropes in reminder. The bondage was more than a physical thing… it worked like magic on my brain, tethering it to Preston with an invincible knot. Such care! Such strange affection! His attention to every perfect detail of the bondage dress seemed intimate, even loving. And the warmth of his hands as they skillfully worked produced a longing in me I’d never felt before. As he finished tying off the ends neatly at my thighs, I found myself craving him more than carnally. I wanted inside his brain, his body, his thoughts. I wanted to understand his soul… that remote, inaccessible place few would ever find. I knew I was about to be punished, but that didn’t matter. Whatever brought us together thrilled my heart—even if this scene had been created by my regrettably reckless behavior.

Unfortunately, like so many times before—and since—Preston altered reality to suit his fancy, not mine. Just as he finished the bondage, as if he’d choreographed the scene down to the last detail, I heard a car pull up in the drive. It wasn’t enough that the work site was suddenly teaming with activity and the fear of being discovered heightened every second, but into that explosive atmosphere, Preston added a spiteful twist.

I stared toward the front of the house, through an open window, and there, grinning and unmistakably malicious, was Susan stepping out of her car and coming up to the house. My entire body gasped, while I sighed aloud, “Oh, no!” trying to keep my feelings quiet but unable to.

He’d thrown our intimate games out the window and implemented a new one that I was sure to hate.

When Susan arrived, picking her way gingerly in high heels through the dust and mud, I knew I was doomed. The vile woman strode into through the door with an evil smirk on her face, just as Preston was tying my wrists to beams above. Throwing his heaviest rope over the thick rafters, he then wrapped my hands and wrists until the bondage was secure and I was unable to move.

“Keep your legs spread, or I’ll bind them apart,” he ordered. I took his message seriously, enduring the strain it placed on my thighs and my upper body. If I didn’t know before that this would be a trial to endure, I knew it then.

“Oh! How pretty we are,” Susan bleated sarcastically, as she suddenly turned her attention from an inspection of the room to me. Her eyes lit on me with a devilish glare. I swear she was Lucifer’s twin incarnate—Preston would assure me later that she was just an accidental witch. Her nails—long, precisely manicured and painted cherry red—picked delicately at the tight ropes binding my breasts, just to see how tightly they’d been tied. I jumped a little each time her nails bit into my skin. She ran a hand down my chest in front, to my pubis, then around my side and over my ass cheeks. I held my breath, waiting. Any second I expected her to strike with a nasty bite and devour my flesh. “Humm…” The hum was guttural, like a growling beast still caged. “You say she’s mine?”

“All yours, Susan.”

Why on earth I would utter a sound at that moment, I don’t know. I expected something as odious as this in punishment, but I couldn’t stop my ill-timed gasp of dismay, “Oh, Preston, please no! You can’t give me to her

!”

My master moved so swiftly that even Susan was taken off guard and forced aside by his imperious wake. He slapped my cheek with a stinging shot, then grabbed my chin so that I was forced to look him in the eye. “Don’t argue with me, Skye. You’ll only make me hurt you more. This is just desserts for a reckless, self-indulgent and childish act. Susan has every right to punish you for what you did to her and I’m just giving her the chance. You’ll find she’s a skilled dominatrix. I trained her myself when she flunked submissive training.”

“Yes, I couldn’t stand the abuse,” she piped up.

“Or enjoy the surrender,” Preston added a bit cynically. “You should thankful I’m not the one meting out your punishment, because it would surely be worse.” Seeing the look on his face, I had no doubt he believed that to be true. I shuddered to my core. The strength in his voice and his clutching fingers transmitted power and desire, and—if I was not mistaken—a certain fondness for me. At least I wanted to believe that. Other couples might have sat down and talked about the incident in the boardroom in rational tones, discussing motives and apologies and sorting out reasons why to some logical end. Apparently, Preston and I would settle our quarrels in a different manner, adjusting an imbalance with physical reprimands and symbolic corporal acts of atonement. I understood the reasons why, but I would still despise the methods he used, no matter how perfect they really were. If Preston wanted to stop any future foolishness, this was certainly the way to do it.

He let go of my chin and stepped away, still keeping a fixed eye on mine.

“She won’t give you any trouble,” he stated plainly to both Susan and me.

“I’m sure she won’t,” Susan chimed in immediately, contentedly, with the same self-satisfied smirk she wore on her face when she arrived.

She turned me, toying again with the ropes, tugging and pulling a bit, while she thought out her plan. If I’d been her, I would have had it all in mind in advance. But she seemed to prefer the spontaneity, and—I learned, much to my dismay—was certainly not short on creative ways to abuse me.

“Let her down, Preston. Before I whip her, I’d like to see her show off for me.”

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