Tabula Rasa(44)

I was right, lacing up the boots took a small eternity. And I had to sit on a spanking bench to get it accomplished. The bench was just a few feet to the left of where I’d stood previously and had another spotlight shining on it.

I started to get up, but Shannon’s voice stopped me.

“Spread your legs and show me your cunt. Look me in the eyes while you do it.”

The last part was the hardest part. He held my gaze for nearly a full minute—I counted the seconds, my breath unconsciously held the entire time—and then his gaze dropped to the flesh I’d exposed between my legs.

“Stroke yourself. Feel how wet you are.”

My fingers moved between my legs, rubbing circles over my clit in light butterfly touches.

“Keep your eyes on mine,” he said.

I was almost to the edge of my orgasm when he said, “Stop. Now, walk over to me.”

I started to walk carefully across the floor, afraid of damaging it.

“No,” Shannon said. “I want to hear the heels strike the floor and echo along the walls. You have to walk with purpose for that to happen. Go back and start again.”

I went back to the spotlight I’d been standing under and hesitated.

“Well?”

“Sir, I can’t. These heels will mess up the floor if I walk any harder. It’ll put little dents in it.”

Shannon smiled broadly. “And you’re afraid if you put dents in my floor, I’ll punish you.”

I nodded.

“You’re right about the dents and the punishment. Now walk. I want to hear it.”

He wanted me to walk across the floor in such a way that ensured I would damage it and invite retribution. So I walked, exactly as he’d asked, across the polished wood to him. When I reached his side, he got out of the chair.

“Don’t move. I need to inspect the damage.” He walked slowly across the floor and then slowly back, studying and counting and recounting the dents my high-heeled boots had made in his beautiful floor.

“Twenty-eight,” he said finally. “I counted twice.” He shook his head as if disappointed. “Whatever will I do with you for putting twenty-eight dents in my floor? So many thrilling possibilities.”

He moved in close to me, his lips brushing my ear. “I think we both know what kind of girl you are, don’t we?”

Yes, I think we did both know. I could feel the excitement dripping down my thighs as much from the thrill of hurting his floor and knowing what it would mean as from the almost-orgasm. Shannon parted my legs with one hand, slipping a finger inside me. “My filthy little whore.” His voice was practically a growl. “Go get on the bed.”

I crossed to the bed, walking as carefully as I could so I wouldn’t put any more dents in the floor.

“Not that bed,” he said. “The bondage bed.”

I turned toward where he pointed. The bondage bed was an elevated table-like piece of furniture covered in black leather. There were various shiny rings around it as well as a shiny silver pole affixed to each corner, allowing a wide variety of bondage options.

“On your stomach,” Shannon said when I reached it.

I climbed onto the table and lay on my stomach. He came up behind me and spread my legs and arms out wide. He produced leather cuffs from the box and put them around my wrists and my ankles over the boots. Then he connected them to rings at the edges of the bed. He carefully unhooked the back of the corset and opened it so that my back was bare. Then he flipped the skirt up so he could get a clear view of my ass.

“You like being exposed this way, don’t you, you little slut?”

“Yes, Sir.” I didn’t even think I was lying. I did like it. I liked the way the cool air flowed over my skin and then how just as quickly it heated again from his eyes on me.

He took a blindfold from the box and covered my eyes. I heard him going back and forth across the floor and wasn’t sure if he was collecting items he planned to use on me or if he was just pacing. There was a deliberate, measured sense about his movements that suggested the latter.

“Elodie... Elodie... Elodie...” he said it in a slow sing-song voice, dragging out the syllables. The way he said my name sent ice cold fear shooting through my veins and a trail of goosebumps moving down my spine.

Finally, he stopped beside me, his lips again brushing my ear. “Elodie, I tried so hard to be a good boy where you are concerned. But then you had to come down into the basement. I wonder, did you think the other night was all I planned to do with you?”

“No... No, Sir.”

“Are you going to cry for me like a good girl? It will make me so happy if you cry for me.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

I heard something light thud gently on the table next to me, and I flinched. Shannon just chuckled in response. “You’re terrified of me.” He didn’t say it like he was displeased about that fact.

Somehow I had faith that whatever happened in here wouldn’t permanently damage me, that even if I couldn’t trust in some sense of humanity in him, I could trust that he wanted to keep doing this enough to be careful with me. And I knew from the length of time he’d had the white cat that Shannon was capable of caring for fragile living things.

I gasped as his hands slid under my breasts. He stroked them for a moment, and then something hard and metal closed around each nipple.