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His hand slapped her cheek. The blow was stinging...not particularly painful, but shocking for its suddenness. Raven's hand flew to her burning face, and wide eyed she stood mute as he growled at her.
"You do NOT address me in that tone of voice, you do NOT question my methods, and you do NOT treat me like some casual pick up in a bar."
He stepped closer to her, gripping the wrist that still hung by her side.
"When you followed me out of that hotel, you gave up your rights of control, you gave up your limits. As such you will follow me obediently, you will do as you are told, and unless you are asked a question you will keep your fucking mouth shut. IS THAT CLEAR?"
Those last three words were not said any more loudly than the previous muted conversation, but with such intensity and venom that she felt she was 6 years old again, gripped by the hand and eyes of the fearsome Mother Superior who ruled her elementary school as strictly as any petty dictator.
Raven found herself quailing at his power, his naked energy. It was as if his charm and good manners in the hotel had been a mask, and even as she wondered at the sanity of following through her promise, her cunt was leaking her desire for him. He wasn't just commanding her, her was overpowering her defences with focused and directed force. His anger was almost palpable, but leashed with chains. Every action and word was calculated to perfection, and she knew without thinking that she could not leave, only follow..
"Yes sir." Raven spoke meekly, submitting herself to his authority. "I am sorry sir, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect, and I forgot my place."
She had been trying to be friendly, and he had turned on her, struck her, and then treated her like some annoying little brat. And she had responded to it. She found herself wanting to please him. This authority figure grew in size before her and found herself striving to placate him, to beg his forgiveness in submission. God, she was so fucking horny...and he had hardly started.
He looked at her, his eyes boring into hers, then dropped her wrist and set off towards the car park again. Wordlessly, feeling so very small, she followed him.
As he approached the car park he pulled the key from his pocket and pushed the fob button. With a musical chirrup and flash of the in
dicators, his car acknowledged his presence, opening itself to him. Even as Raven observed that, she found herself craving to be that car, to be so obedient that with one signal she would become as instantly available to his use as this car was. The eroticism of that thought almost caused her stumble, the force of it twisting her stomach and making her sex crave HIS usage.
He stepped to the passenger door, and opened it, waiting for her to sit in the leather seat. He appeared to an outsider as a gentleman, opening the car door for his lady. Yet to Raven, she was being controlled, guided, put in her place. There was no doubt that she would get into the car, he was merely ensuring there was no delay.
Silently she buckled herself in, and waited for him to take his seat.
Within minutes they were on a local highway, and after twenty minutes into the countryside. He drove with focus, his movements economical. He didn't just drive the car, he guided it, controlled it, directed its energy in the ways to best serve his needs. He didn't engage her in conversation, and she found herself patiently waiting, being still for him.
If her friends had seen her, they would have been stunned into silence. Raven was their party animal, their ring leader. Raven was the instigator of activities, and the one who led the conversations. She was never silent, and certainly not mutely still, passive, like a doll waiting for its owner.
But somehow, it seemed natural for her, a state of being that that had only needed a firm word and stern voice to have her obedient like a well trained bitch.
At a quite villa he had swung the car into the driveway, pulled up outside the front door, braked and switched off the engine. After the powerful sound of the engine, the random clicking of the metal cooling in the evening air seemed disconcerting.
She waited while he unbuckled himself and exited the car, coming round to her side again to let her out. Scents of jasmine and honeysuckle filled the air, and the cicadas called noisily to each other. Here in the countryside, the stars shone brightly in the moonless sky.
He took her elbow and led her up the steps to the large oak front doors with their inlaid bolts, and then into the house. When he turned the lights on, she found herself in a tiled hallway, some pieces of antique furniture dotted around, a stair case leading up to the next floor, and doorways to various rooms set in several walls. All of these were shut, and the hallway defined her line of site. She felt, somehow, closed off from his privacy, almost as if he had been expecting a visitor, and hadn't wanted anything of his personal life to be on display.
"Strip"
His command disrupted her reverie, and she looked at him, shocked.
SMACK
Again, a blow across her cheek, but harder this time
"I said strip. Don't make me tell you a third time or your clothes will be shredded where you stand"
Somehow she didn't doubt the truth of his words, and although the thought of her clothes being cut from her had a delightful air of rape play, there was nothing playful about his look or manner.
"Silently, she stripped off her clothes, passing the garments to his outstretched hand. She didn't hesitate even to remove her thong...now sticky with her juices, though she blushed when she saw him glance at the tell tale residue.
Just as she was about to remove her shoes, he shook his head, and she paused.
"Kneel"
She dropped to her knees, conscious of the cold unforgiving hardness of the tiles.
"Now crawl and follow me."
