Another Appointment Read Free Page B

exactly in what sense he meant “easy.” What was easy and what was hard in these games might have puzzled an outsider, and sometimes she wasn’t quite sure of their definitions herself. But with her hood in place, he helped her into the spacious back seat. Instead of sitting beside her, he took the chauffeur’s usual place behind the wheel, then put the car into gear and set it rolling.
    They drove for some time, her master not speaking and she, because of the gag, unable to. The night was windy, and she could hear the lashing of the trees on either side of the road. It reminded her of the stormy drama of being whipped.
    Will I be beaten again tonight? Surreptitiously she fingered the stripes and soreness of the last beating and wriggled her bare bottom on the leather of the seat, making the heat from that previous punishment flare. She wanted desperately to reach beneath her coat and stroke her sex, but she sensed that, like his chauffeur before him, her master would be monitoring her, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror from time to time.
    They drove for a little while, cruising along familiar country lanes, she sensed, although in what direction she had no idea. Her master parked the car, and then with a firm, guiding hand on her elbow, he led her forward. They paused after a moment, and she sensed a gate being opened before he ushered her along a gravel path. Blind, she stumbled on her high heels, but he caught her easily in his arms and supported her before urging her forward again.
    “Here we are,” he said softly, and she sensed an enclosure of some kind. Roofed, perhaps, but open at the front. She imagined a park shelter, perhaps, or a summerhouse or gazebo. Despite the roof, the feeling was of being exposed, on show, exhibited. Any passerby might see her and wonder at her hooded state.
    “Remove your coat,” her master instructed, swirling the garment away as she shed it.
    Half-naked and shivering, the slave allowed herself to be bound. Her wrists were fastened securely together in a pair of cuffs and then attached to a hook that seemed to have been screwed into the wall, quite high up. There was play in the chain that connected the cuffs, but not much. Next, her ankles too were secured, strapped into cuffs attached to separate hooks, spread apart, close to floor level. Were these features something new the master had arranged to be added to this unknown structure? Or had they always been part of the gazebo’s fittings? Either way, it was positioned so she was stretched and couldn’t move. Wearing only her tight corset and her stockings, her well-whipped bottom in particular was totally vulnerable, and she gasped behind her gag in apprehension.
    “I’m going to leave you now,” said her master. “But first…”
    With his lips pressed against her bare throat, the slave felt him touch her weeping sex from behind. He caressed her swollen folds perfunctorily, then without warning thrust a finger into her vagina. When she squirmed, he smacked her defenseless bottom. One, two, three fierce spanks, and then, just as suddenly as he’d kissed and spanked her, he was gone, his footsteps echoing crisply on the gravel.
    The slave had been apprehensive before, but now her every nerve jittered. She was helpless. She was blind, almost nude, and completely unprotected. Anyone could come into the park or wherever she was, and anyone could touch her. They could examine her, or play with her, or worse. She was so exposed and available that she felt her sex flutter, roused to readiness and to openness by her plight. She was anybody’s now; her master had abandoned her. He’d made a gift of her to whomever wandered by.
    Will someone come?
    She trembled, imagining strangers reaching for her, groping her, defiling her. What if some man out for a late-night walk was to see her vividly striped bottom and decide to add to its heat? What was another spanking to add to her redness and her pain? Her silky juice ran down her