Tied With A Bow, page 16
“I’ll accept your penitence, Annie. You’ve been a good, obedient and loyal maid, but you must change your careless habits. This time I will merely deduct the cost of the china from your wages.”
‘Thank you Sir.” Was that it! No. The crop tapped her shoulder. There was more––much more she hoped.
“You must willingly accept your chastisement without complaint. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir. I will.” Her mouth went dry. He meant she was not to cry out. She could be silent––if he didn’t hit too hard. This was play, wasn’t it?
“Very well, Annie. But first, you must demonstrate your true penitence.”
“Sir?”
“Before I mete out the whipping you so rightly deserve, you will suck my cock.”
Annie nodded, and smiled down at the toes of Tom’s polished boots. That would be no hardship. “Yes, Sir!”
Tom’s legs were lean and long in his more usual tropical wool or twill. Heck, they looked sexy in blue jeans, and marvelous in shorts. But there was something about tan knee breeches that took her breath away. They literally molded his thighs, and clung to every curve––including the growing bulge in this groin. “I’m waiting, Annie,” he said in a tone that brooked no delay.
Annie moved to oblige.
A zip would have been handy, but no, his darn costume was historically accurate. She fumbled with tiny concealed buttons and tapes before getting her hands on his cock. It was warm in her fingers, and already hard. It took an effort not to smile, but Tom was watching her every move. If she had been truly in danger of ejection onto the streets without a reference, she’d be anxious, and terrified her efforts wouldn’t please. Fine, Annie the housemaid would do her darndest.
She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and swallowed him.
His thighs trembled under her hands
There was no way she could smile now. She was filled. Her mouth stretched by Tom’s magnificent cock. She had to concentrate on her breathing and fight gagging, but in a few seconds, while Tom stayed accommodatingly still, she relaxed her throat to his size. Pulling back just a little, Annie swirled her tongue around the tender, smooth skin covering the head of his cock. She hesitated over the tiny opening and tasted the sweetness of his pre-come.
Her knees wobbled as the desire bursting deep in her cunt took over her mind. This felt so right! Tom’s hands enclosed her head. His touch wasn’t Mark’s. But it was enough to remind her that she was Tom’s servant, his bottom, and soon she’d be feeling his harsh touch on her body. That thought sent her cunt creaming. She was so needy it was pathetic–and wonderful. A week of only phone sex left her yearning for a master’s touch, and maidservant Annie longed to do Tom’s bidding.
She fluttered her tongue around the ridge just below the head of his cock, flicking back and forth over the knot of skin that met the rim on the underside. Tom’s grip on her hair tightened. Annie the maidservant would have long hair, to be pulled and twisted for this purpose. Life as a real servant held no appeal, but penitent Annie the housemaid aka Annie Cavendish, whimpered with pleasure.
“Quiet!” Tom ordered, but eased his hand away. “Save your energies for pleasing me, not moaning. ”
That upped her need several notches, but perfected her concentration. Breathing steadily she pursed her lips and sucked him in to the hilt. Holding her mouth steady a few seconds, she dragged her lips along the length of Tom’s cock until they brushed the raised flesh below his cock head. She eased her lips into a tight circle and rocked her mouth back and forth over his warm ridge. As she sucked his cock back into her mouth, he let out a long, slow moan, and holding her head firmly in both hands, pulled away.
“Enough,” he said, stepping back. His beautiful cock was rampant, pink with arousal, moist with her saliva, and right at eye level. It was impossible not to stare.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Annie looked up to Tom’s flushed face. His eyes had lost some of their harshness, and his breathing was as fast as hers, but calmed as she watched him reach for the crop lying beside the broken crockery.
His breathing might have slowed. Hers sped up as he ran the leather loop around the neckline of her blouse. “Annie, I do believe you showed appropriate penitence. Are you prepared to receive your well-merited chastisement?” Her reply seemed lodged in her impossibly dry throat. “Are you, Annie?” he repeated.
If possible, her cunt flowed faster at his question. Every trace of moisture in her body seemed pooled between her legs. Her clit throbbed and a sweet ache gnawed between her thighs. She wanted this, she needed it, and she so dreaded it. Tom’s face resumed its irate master look. “I am waiting for your consent to beat you, Annie!”
Mark had never spoken so bluntly, but her tongue had never glued itself into paralysis before. Unable to speak, she nodded.
“I wish to hear it from your lovely, fuckable lips, Annie. Are you ready?” The storybook apparition in red velvet waited.
“Yes, Sir,” she managed through stiff lips. “I’m ready.” Her entire body shuddered, from relief at getting the words out, or fear of what followed, she’d never know nor care.
Tom’s hand on her arm, pulled her to her feet. “First you wash all the cups and saucers,” he said. “When they are dry and put in order, then you present yourself to me.”
Without another word, he strode out, breeches still hanging open, cock stiff and ready, and his frock coat swirling as he turned away.
Chapter Five
Washing up! She was ready to scream with frustration! Tom knew exactly how to tease a submissive. This was going to be wonderful agony. But judging by the sight of his ramrod-stiff cock as he walked past, it wasn’t going to easy for him either.
But she was the one stuck with the dishes.
Talk about getting into the spirit of the play! Darn him! A wide tape sealing the dishwasher made it clear, it was hands in the suds to wash up. Tom had been busy while she showered. He’d also covered up the hot tap. Housemaid Annie was back in boil water for washing days. She filled the kettle, concluding she was lucky to have the gas stove within bounds and she wasn’t expected to go outside to a pump.
Waiting for the darn kettle to boil, Annie piled the cups––broken pieces and all––into the sink, and stole the chance to sit down. Might as well snatch a moment while she could. It would be rigorous play in a very short while.
This watched pot boiled at amazing speed. Washing, rinsing, and drying four cups and saucers plus broken pieces wasn’t exactly time-consuming or onerous. Her arousal had cooled, just a tad, but her anxiety meter had risen several notches, and Tom was waiting. She could leave now, just tell him goodbye, change back into street clothes, and call Mark to pick her up. It would be so easy––and utterly impossible. She was alive with expectations. Whatever Tom was about to deal out, she desired. Every nerve quivered with anticipation and dread. No way would she miss this for the world.
She wiped her hands, smoothed her apron, and walked into the sitting room. “I’m ready, Sir,” she announced.
“Are you?” He was sitting in one of the wing chairs, one leg over the arm of the chair while he so carelessly flicked the end of the crop against his boot. Would the narrow leather make a similar sound on her skin? She forced her gaze from the swinging crop to Tom. He looked like the villain in a novel. He’d tossed the velvet coat over the back of the sofa, the ends of his cravat hung loose, and he’d unbuttoned the neck of the shirt and rolled up his sleeves, as if for action. Action on her hide!
To add to the scene, she bit her lip, and managed a penitent sob. “The washing up’s all done, Sir.”
“Did you break any more china?”
Was she meant to? “Oh! No! Sir! I was as careful as can be.”
“Lucky for your bottom, isn’t it? I won’t have to add any extra. Maybe you’ve learned your lesson at last.“ He shook his head. “I just can’t have carelessness, it just won’t do at all. Now…” He paused as if waiting, and Annie remembered his parting command.
“How should I present myself, Sir?”
“On your knees!” As she hit the carpet, he went on, “and I’m disappointed I had to wait. You should have been down on the floor the minute you entered the room.”
She would have if his appearance, like a profligate-about-to-be-reformed-hero in a novel, hadn’t distracted her. “I apologize, Sir.” Utterly! With the leather loop swinging in and out of her line of vision.
“I believe you, Annie.” Tom went on, “and since you sucked my cock with such devotion, I will be generous. I’ll warm your bottom up by spanking before I lay on you properly.”
Her stomach sunk towards her ready cunt. Mark always claimed a warm-up spanking made the flogger or crop easier to bear. Annie had never been convinced, but now was not the time to debate that point.
“You want to safeword out, Annie?”
It took a second to grasp what he’d asked. “No!” she almost shouted. “Oh! No!”
Tom was smirking now. “I thought not, but just to be sure, what is your safe word?”
“Annette Sophia Cavendish.”
“Good!” Tom stood up. “Let’s get started.” The tops of his boots and his twill-encased thighs filled her entire line of vision. He’d refastened his breeches, but the bulge in his groin proved he was ready and willing. “Bend over the back of the sofa.”
She needed his help to stand. Her legs wobbled and her blood pressure thrummed in her ears. She wanted this so much. She feared what he was about to do. Tom had a strong right arm. She remembered how he wielded the belt before. The front door was just yards away. The phone was closer. If she called Mark…
Annie walked across to the sofa, knelt on the chintz cushions and arranged herself over the back.
“No, Annie. Facing the other way. Walk to the back of the sofa and bend over forwards.”
She should have asked for clarification. Seven nervous steps had her around the sofa and facing Tom. She looked up at his eyes, brimming with the same anticipation that rippled in her cunt, and remembered, he wanted her to beg.
“Oh, Sir,” she began, adding a little sob. “I’m scared, Sir! Please Sir, don’t hurt me!”
He raised one eyebrow and looked. In silence.
Annie bit her lip.
Tom tapped the crop against his boot and waited.
“Sir?” she began again, a nervous coil forming in her stomach. He’d asked her to beg, hadn’t he?
“Annie, I will count to three. If by then you are not bent over and ready for punishment, I will go up stairs and fetch my cane!” She believed him. “One! Two!” She tipped herself over to grasp the sofa pillows as he said, “Three!”
The side of her face rubbed against Tom’s discarded velvet jacket. As she inhaled the combined scents of Eau Sauvage and Tom, his hands cupped her buttocks through her skirt and petticoats. He squeezed. Annie felt every fingertip through the layers of cloth. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. It was beginning.
But not immediately.
For several long seconds, Tom contented himself with kneading and squeezing until every centimeter of her bottom felt embossed with Tom’s fingerprints. He’d still not touched her skin.
A surprised whimper escaped her lips as the side of his hand swept up the crease of her arse. “Silence, Annie!” Tom snapped. “I’ll gag you if you can’t control your noise.”
Annie bit her lip. She bet Tom knew exactly how much she hated the gag. Trust Mark to share every little snippet. She sighed from deep in her diaphragm, and hoped to hell that didn’t count as noise.
Tom stepped away. She felt the loss of his touch as certainly as she’d responded to his fondling. “Don’t move, Annie. Whatever you do!” She was grasping the front edge of the sofa with her fingertips.
“Here, look after this for me.” He dropped the crop onto the cushion, so it lay alongside her forearm. A swift adjustment, and the loop end was pushed under her hand. “And this!” He shoved the handle of her suede whip into her other hand. So much for planning on using it on him! It was going to grace her hide! Perhaps. Which would he use? Both? The hard, black length of leather, or the soft stingy tresses of purple suede? Didn’t leather hurt more than suede? Didn’t it depend on how hard he hit? No point in crossing that bridge yet. She’d find out soon enough.
It might not be that soon. The carved clock over the mantelpiece clicked away the minutes, and Tom didn’t return. She was tempted to straighten up and ease her back and the tension in her thighs, but he’d told her to wait, and wait she would…but how much longer?
All night if he chose.
Remembering Mark’s instructions on relaxing, Annie closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. If it worked with bondage, it would surely work bent double over a sofa back that became less comfortable with every passing minute. She let her shoulders and arms go heavy, relaxed her knees as best she could, and let her mind float free. She succeeded so well, she was halfway to dozing when Tom thumped her bottom. It wasn’t hard, nowhere near what she expected, but brought her out of her reverie with a yelp.
“Tut, tut,” Tom said, the chuckle only too apparent in his voice. “Noisy little housemaid, aren’t you, Annie?” His hand smoothed her arse, almost as if he were stroking her. “You’ll have to do better if you wish to remain in my employ!”
He grabbed her by the waist with both hands and shifted her forward. She managed to contain her cry––but only just. Talk about awkward! She was bent at the hips, not her waist, the edge of the back pressing the crease of the thighs and her face and chest flattened against the sofa. She was now clutching for the carpet, not the cushions, and her toes were barely touching the floor. The end of the crop pressed one breast through her thin blouse and the tresses of the pussy whip tickled her arm. Talk about awkward, uncomfortable and exposed! Her arse was poised, bent, and taut. Her thigh muscles stretched as she fought to keep her toes on the floor. With one movement, Tom had her skirt and petticoats over her head, blocking out light and muffling sound.
Tom’s breeches brushed her bare legs, as his hands ran up her inner thighs and pulled them apart. He was standing between her legs and lifting them. Her feet were off the floor, the inside of her knees rubbing his waist. She’d been uncomfortable and helpless earlier. Now she was as completely at his mercy as if she’d been tied up or cuffed to the furniture.
He stepped closer, spreading her wider. She was secure. No chance of falling. No chance of going anywhere. Between her chest on the seat of the sofa and her legs tensed against Tom’s side, she was more or less comfortable, and exposed utterly.
“Ready Annie?” Tom asked. As he spoke, the first slap landed. Even with her ears covered, the smack resounded against her arse. The echo seemed to hang in the quiet room. “Remember, not a sound until I give you permission.” Down came his hand again.
He wasn’t hitting hard. It was nowhere near as severe as her first spanking from Mark, but it was thorough. Slowly but surely, Tom covered every inch of her naked arse and thighs. The sting faded to a tingle, but built up layer on layer until her skin burned, and her cunt throbbed with need.
“Love the way you color up,“ Tom said, not even pausing in his spanks. “Quite the most delicious shade, almost like a Maiden’s Blush rose.” He chuckled–obviously at his own wit–as a harder slap on her tender right cheek elicited a little gasp. “No,“ he murmured, “more like Tivoli, if you ask me.” She wasn’t asking him. She was trying to contain her moans. “Know about roses do you, Annie?” Not much and cared less. How much longer? She’d twice now bitten her lip keeping quiet. He might not hit hard, but Tom was thorough. He gave her four more slaps. “That should be enough for now.”
She was not about to argue. The dull throb and sting radiated from her burning bottom. Seemed every nerve ending tingled. Her clit throbbed to the point of hurt. She needed release. As Tom lowered her legs, she rubbed herself against the back of the sofa to ease the ache in her clit.
“No, indeed!” The hard slap made her yelp. “Dirty little girl! Rubbing yourself against the furniture! That’s not how you behave! I’ve a good mind to throw you out the door this instant!”
”No, Sir! Please! Don’t. I’ll be good. I promise! ” she called though her layers of petticoats. She was Annie the maid, terrified of her future.
Another slap on the second cheek she was almost ready for, but her aching need brought tears to her eyes. “Behave yourself! Or I’ll strap you in a chastity belt and never give you release!”
Would he? She didn’t doubt it for one minute. She tried to ignore the incessant throbbing in her clit. She whimpered as he reached between her legs and pushed fingers into her cunt. How many? Aroused as she was, he could have his fist up there and she’d be happy. But just as her cunt muscles clenched with satisfaction against his fingers, he withdrew. “Wait, Annie,” he said, “your time to come will come!”
Very funny!
Tom thought so. He chuckled. He wouldn’t chuckle like that when Claudine laid into him next time––but that was in the future. Right now it was her body on the receiving end. Her nipples were hard and hurting from being squashed against the cushions. Her cunt ran with arousal, and her clit hurt almost as much as her arse…and that was just a warm up. She shivered.
“Going to break any more crockery?” Tom asked, his hand resting on her arse, as if enjoying the heat.
“‘Oh no, Sir. Never.”
“I’m delighted to know my correction is yielding results. Let’s get it over with then. Nothing like laying it on when the flesh is warm. We don’t want you cooling off, do we?“ She couldn’t see any problem with that but… “ Want to have my crop or your flogger?”
He was asking? “Whatever pleases you, Sir.”
“No, Annie. You must choose. I insist. “
Wonderful! The familiar flogger or the unknown crop? Decisions! Decisions! Clenching clammy palms tight, Annie whispered. “The flogger, please, Sir.”
