Geoffrey's Rules (9 page)

“Yes. Now go further. Tell me my ultimate trade secret. How do I bottle the power of BDSM for digital media?”

I felt my eyes narrow as I looked at him, deep in thought about what sort of answer he was looking for and how I could prove myself to him. “You manipulate the context.”

“As simple as that. You’re hired, if you want to be.”

“You’re not making a rule that Chloe must work for her master?”

“Not in this realm, I’m not. You’ll work for me in the bedroom this afternoon, I can assure you. I can be a difficult man to please when I know my pupil is well-suited to my training. But, no, with regard to this professional matter, that has to be entirely at your discretion.”

“How long do I have to decide?”

“Well, I think I can give you until Monday to decide about the project I’m currently working on. If you decide not to take me up on that offer, I’ll have to figure out whether I want to give you another chance.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

We finished lunch silently as I thought about what Geoffrey had said, and he seemed content to let me meditate upon it. He paid the check, and then he said in a low voice, “Listen very carefully, now, Chloe.” He looked up from where he was finishing his signature. “Are you listening?”

I swallowed hard. The tone of his voice left not the slightest doubt that he was now going to begin to tell me what having his way meant. “Yes, sir,” I said, suddenly feeling my mouth go very dry.

“We’re going to get in my car, now, and then we’re going to drive the very short distance to my house. As soon you walk through my door, you are going to go to the living room—that’s what I call the sitting area where I spanked you on Wednesday, even though it’s just part of the great room—and kneel on the rug. From this moment on, you are not to speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said and stood up. He extended his hand and helped me up when I had put my own into it. The simple touch of his hand sent a spark of arousal through my nervous system. The feeling of faintness returned and began to grow. He led me out to the curb, where the valet was waiting by the car. The combination of his words and something about the way he held my hand made me feel not just like I was being taken in hand, but like I was now owned. There was a kind of elegance in his command to be silent unless addressed. At the same time, it seemed to give a lovely feeling that I need not worry about saying something that would be witty or charming in order to keep my new boyfriend interested in me. He had taken me in hand, and I belonged to him. He had declared his interest and taken the steps he wished to take to secure it. And, now… and now he was taking me home to enjoy his new possession. Chloe’s little cunt is her master’s property. Now he was bringing his property home where it belonged.

And again, I felt that the changes he was working in me weren’t just about my sexual responses but about my intellectual ones and even my ethical ones. He had opened a vista to a life in which he would have benefits to confer on me, through his guidance and his tenderness, that went far beyond the bedroom. The realization that I was now almost certainly in love with him swept through me like a beloved scent, like I was smelling just a whiff of my father’s favorite cologne that had always made me feel so safe. What would my parents think of Geoffrey? I thought they would probably love him, as long as I spared them the news that he had ordered me to shave my pussy and that I had obeyed.

The only thing he said between the time he paid the check and the time he opened the door for me at his house was, just as we were getting into the car, “You look very lovely, Chloe. I was very lucky to open that door in the café.”

I blushed and said, “Thank you, sir.”

Geoffrey looked down at me where I knelt on his rug. “I said before that rule one is that I have my way.”

“Yes, sir.” I was finally going to learn what exactly he had meant, I knew.

“If I don’t get my way, you get spanked.”

“Yes, sir. Rule three.”

“If it takes me longer to get my way than I want it to, you get spanked.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If my way is that you get spanked…”

“I get spanked, sir.”

“Exactly, slut.” Geoffrey smiled.

No one in Proust called his lover “slut”; even Joyce hadn’t called the wife to whom he wrote those terrible letters about anal sex “slut”. I couldn’t believe the response it called from me—the usual blush, but also the powerful urge to touch myself where all the muscles were clenching.

My right hand drifted. Geoffrey said, “Don’t you dare, slut. Please recite rule two.”

“Chloe’s cunt belongs to her master.”

“And rule four?”

“Chloe may not touch her little cunt without her master’s permission.”

“I think it’s time we got that dress off you.” He came around behind me. He stroked the back of my neck under my French braid, and I felt his left hand come gently around to the hollow under my chin. I shivered at the possessiveness of the way he seemed to be claiming my throat. Then with his right hand he deftly lowered the zipper at the back.

“Kneel up, please,” he said. I suppose that truly I had never been stripped before in my life, but at that moment it felt like I had never been stripped so politely. I complied, and I felt him take the hem of my dress at either side of my thighs in his hands.

“I should tell you,” he murmured, as he began to lift the dress from the hem upward, “that I do like to rip things from time to time. I promise, though, that I won’t rip any piece of clothing that I haven’t bought for you myself. Your arms above your head, please.”

I obeyed and felt the dress removed from me. Holding it inside out, he moved around in front of me again and looked at me in my tights and my flowered blue underwear.

“Mine,” he said. “Lovely.”

I watched him carefully turn my dress right side out. He turned away to lay the garment over the back of a chair.

“The tights are going to have to come off in just a moment,” he said. “But while the rest of your underwear isn’t exactly the sort of thing I prefer, as you’ll soon discover, it will certainly do for now. There is also a certain charm in making a girl in such innocent flowered underwear do the kinds of shameful things you’re about to do.”

He seemed to consider for a moment, as if he were deciding which shameful thing was going to occur first. Then he said, “Very well. First things first.” He went to sit in the same high-back chair where I had my spanking over his lap on Wednesday. When he was seated in it, he said, “You may get up, Chloe, and come over here.”

A little unsteady and feeling very strange and ashamed to have been stripped down to my underwear when Geoffrey was still fully clothed, I obeyed and moved to stand before him.

Geoffrey looked into my eyes and said, “Now you are going to turn around and do exactly as I tell you.”

I turned and faced the fireplace on the opposite wall.

“Thank you. Now, please put your hands behind your head and interweave your fingers. You are not to lower your arms. Very nice. You’re doing very well, Chloe.”

I began to tremble. I felt his fingertips on my bottom. He stroked me gently there, and with one of his fingers, he rubbed, through my tights and panties, the place where upper thighs and buttocks come together. I gave a little whimper.

“Hush, Chloe,” he murmured. “A girl like you needs to learn not to disturb her master’s pleasure.” The fingers left my backside, and I felt his hands upon my waist. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my tights, and very slowly he pulled them down until they were at mid-thigh. Then his right hand came around to my front, and he laid it upon the tender triangle, where the flowered stretch cotton thinly covered the pussy that I had shaved for him. My whimper was louder this time, and Geoffrey said, “I said, hush, you naughty girl.” Very, very softly, he began to rub with his middle finger.

“I think,” he said, “we need to see how wet you get your panties when you’re feeling very wicked.” The rubbing became gradually firmer and firmer. I managed not to whimper, by taking my lower lip between my teeth and coming close to drawing blood, but even this could not suppress the submissive sound that came from the back of my throat. He was right; I was very wicked. The trembling in my legs would not stop. I felt myself flowing with warm moisture between my thighs, and I knew that Geoffrey would raise the wet spot he was looking for within seconds.

“Goodness,” he said, “this is really rather remarkable.” He drew his hand away from my loins and held it up in front of me. His middle finger glistened in the light of the table lamps. The finger ascended, and he raised it to the level of my mouth.

“Suck, Chloe,” he said. “Let me feel what that lovely little mouth can do.” I opened my lips, and Geoffrey gently inserted the shiny finger. “That’s right,” he said. “Naughty girls have to taste their own little cunts, don’t they?”

Tentatively, I licked and made a satisfied little sound. I had tasted myself for him only a few days before, but being made to do so in this position, in this state of undress, was even more thrillingly shameful.

The finger was removed, and now I felt Geoffrey unhooking my bra in back. The way he took my clothes from me, at the times and in the manner that he chose, made his domination of me remarkably clear. A man like Geoffrey, he was telling me, has the right to undress a girl any time and in any way he wants. Rule one: he was having his way.

He dropped my bra to the floor.

“Turn around, Chloe,” he said and enforced his command with his hands at my waist. “Let’s have a look at those sweet little breasts.” It wasn’t only the undressing—there was a whole dominant way of his pleasure, into which he was now little by little initiating me. He had removed my bra so that he could enjoy my breasts as he pleased.

“Mmm,” he said, and with the palms of his hands he took my little apples, as I always thought of them, into his possession. Then he put his left arm around my waist and brought me closer into him as he opened his own knees to take me inside his thighs. My small pink nipples were at the level of his mouth. With his right hand on my left breast, he bounced the little apple up and down, then brought his lips and tongue to bear on the nipple, first flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue, then taking the whole areola into his lips.

I groaned, and he brought back his head and said, “Hush, naughty girl. Can you not remember anything I say?” His right hand left my breast and then fell on my pantied backside in the form of a spank, and then another one, and then his mouth was back upon my nipple, and he spanked again, and I thought I really would faint and slumped against him. My arms came down for a brief moment and rested upon his shoulders, just because I didn’t think I would maintain consciousness otherwise. I was moaning uncontrollably now, as he went on spanking me over and over. I had never in my life imagined that submission would really feel this good, despite all of my lascivious reading over the years. The spanking got harder and harder, and even through my panties it began to sting.

“Oh, Geoffrey,” I cried out. “Oh my God, please!” Without intending it in the slightest, I began to try to grind my pussy against the chair.

Geoffrey’s mouth released my breast, and the spanking stopped. “Stand up, slut,” he commanded in a harsh voice. “Get your hands back behind your head. Don’t even think about trying to pleasure that wanton little cunt of yours. You are here to please your master, not to please yourself.”

Trembling so much that I wasn’t sure I would in fact be able to stand, I moved to obey him. His words had the electric effect on me that his shameful formulations always seemed to have. I knew that the wet spot on my panties was growing by the moment.

Geoffrey reached out and yanked my tights all the way to the ground. “Step out of these now, slut,” he said. I obeyed, and he picked the tights up and tossed them onto the same chair where he had laid my dress. He fetched my bra and tossed it onto the same chair. The sight of my clothing, stripped from me by my master, served to confirm my submission yet again.

“Alright,” he said. “Since you cannot seem to obey a simple command to stand, I won’t make you stand anymore right now. Turn around again, please, and spread your feet so that they are a little wider apart than shoulder width. Then bend down to touch the floor. I need to see exactly what sort of naughty little bottom I have here.”

My face burning, I did as I was bidden. I still had my panties on, but not only did that seem very little protection right now, but I also knew that Geoffrey was going to have a complete view of the size of the wet spot. But it was worse than that, for I heard him rise and go to a closed cabinet and open it and take something out. He returned to stand behind me. All I could see were his shoes where my head hung down as I touched the floor.

“This,” he said, “is a kind of spreader bar.” He laid it on the floor near my feet so I could see it. It was a bar with four cuffs attached. “You’re going to get very familiar with spreader bars, Chloe, since I very much enjoy fastening girls with them. Since you’ve shown that you have some difficulty with maintaining posture submissively, we’re going to put you into this one now.”

A thrill of embarrassment went through me, not at the fact that I was bending over touching the floor wearing nothing but my flowered panties that now featured a large wet spot from my lewd arousal, but at the thought that I had failed in this important part of my training and I now had to be strapped into a device that would allow me to be enjoyed the way Geoffrey wished to enjoy me. He undid the Velcro of the cuffs, the ones on the outside and the ones on the inside, and fastened the outside ones around my ankles. Then the inside ones went around my wrists, and Geoffrey stood up.

“You’re going to come for me now, Chloe,” he said. “But it’s not going to be like the way you come when you play with yourself, like the wanton little slut you are. You are going to come for me because I want you to know how thoroughly you are in my hands and at my pleasure. It is a shameful thing for a girl to find herself in the position in which you have now been arrayed. It is a shameful thing to have such a big wet spot on your panties. It is a shameful thing to come merely because your master wants to make you feel the lewdness of your nature. You are a bad girl, Chloe, and now I will show you just how bad you are.”