I barely have a chance to open my mouth before I feel him push past my teeth and ram against the back of my throat, Master’s left hand presses against the back of my head pushing it down, his right cupping my chin pulling it forward, keeping my throat open.
From the corner of my eye I can still see the screen, Mia is still crying, her shoulders shaking, I can barely hear her over the wet sounds of my Master’s phallus slamming hard against my tongue. I adjust my jaw, drop my tongue in the back of my mouth and relax my throat. Master takes advantage of the amount of control he has over me, the wave like motion of his hips as he pumps into my face proves his enjoyment of me.
‘Tobin The Bitch’, continues to work Master’s magic on the Mia on the screen. Between thrusts, I have a full view of my sister’s pain. I watch, almost hypnotized, as my fork lifts before the camera, nonchalant little bites if fettuccine alfredo, like it doesn’t matter, like I’m not shredding her heart, to trade for my own pleasure. I hear me clear my throat, “Really Mia,” a delicate sip of chardonnay, “I don’t understand why you’re acting so surprised, this has been a long time coming.”
“Grey is ten, Mia. That’s four and a half years you’ve had to find a man. Is there a reason, you didn’t think we were serious? I may be twelve years younger than you, but ours is still a legal contract. I can’t give you another extension. You swore when Jack died you would be able to replace him quickly. Said your church has a program for unwed mothers. Did you lie to me in the name of your God?” The fingers at my neck tighten, those at the back of my head, becoming still as stone.
I know the reason he has gotten so close so quickly. The laws only state that I have to make someone cry, my task has been preformed, by all rights I could have stood and walked out of the room, leaving her there, confused, hurt, letting her to brood, wondering why I lashed out. That self-righteous anger flowing through her tearing her mind between this and the words of her gospel telling her this feeling is wrong, but overall not much worst for wear. Master’s excitement is brought about by the calm way I sit, taking the time to finish off my meal, and my sister. He knows the only reason I would go on is to please him, to give example of my commitment to him.
“Tobin, no.” She says, as though she really thinks any of her words could make any difference.
The side of the fork coming down, cutting into the scallops on my plate, another simple, business like forkful lifts, so calm, the tip of one ting toying, set against the plate and spinning for a moment. I see Master’s hips flash three more times, the intensity brimming inside him, on that last thrust his hands lock my head and neck into place and my nose is buried in his pubic hair. Working my tongue and lips as much as this position allows, I work hard to feel his skin tighten and his veins swell and twitch against my uvula.
My lungs screaming in my chest, his shaft remains like a stone blocking my air, I feel hands at my hips, unlatching my garters, pulling on those silk panties, fingers from nowhere drive into my cunt. I have a moment of panic as this happens; no one has ever joined us before. The combination of surprise and the black spots floating before my eyes pulls an orgasm out of me that makes my legs and shoulders go limp, I am held off the ground by Master’s hands and those of our mystery partner third knuckle deep by at least two fingers. My amazement at this new level of play is only farther fed into by my own voice from the speakers.
“Or is it that at your age, even with all that grooming and breeding you’ve always held up to me, and even with your church’s help, you’re hopelessly unfuckable.” I drop that last word on my sister’s Christian ears and watch her shake, now with anger as well as fear. Direct disrespect has always been frowned upon in my family, and especially the use of what my mother would call ‘sailor words’, Mia’s shock is understandable, she lives every day by our mother’s rules and by those of her god, just as I live by the laws of my Master. I would find that kind of shock were he to say ‘I love you’; it is almost like two sides of a coin, she and I.
Master’s hot seed spills down my throat in great bursts, and the moment he releases me, so does his helper. I fall to the floor, my limbs shaking from the strength of my orgasm, the dark taste of his seed overtaking my tongue. Turning my head to lay eyes on our partner, I see only The Shoes. Master’s silent witnesses are both still as stone, and exactly in their places, I know they are quick, and nearly silent, but no human can move that quickly, Master gives me only a moment to ponder this, before pulling me to my feet by my hair walking me forward.
My heart skips a beat as I recognize what looks like a pile of white nylon ropes on the floor. Without need for direction I step into the two center most holes in the pile, placing my feet so that the last length is straddled between the ball and heel of each shoe. I bend, carefully and pull the topmost coil sliding it up my left leg first, the ropes enveloping me like a pant leg. Repeating the movement for the right leg and then moving on, my hands find the coils meant for sleeves and pull them to my shoulders. My already soaking pussy warms again in anticipation.
The machine Master has The Shoes pushing toward me is a reward; it makes no sound as it travels and rolls so smooth you’d have no idea of its weight or strength. It looks like a frame, at first, but horizontal, the inner edge lined with eyelets. I watch, my labia swelling in anticipation, as The Shoes busy themselves lacing the ropes, halfway through, I lay face down, again without prompting, and feel my weight being distributed across the netting, the binds tightening equally across my body like an especially erotic hug.
With the machine loaded I am staring at the floor, from four feet above, I love to look for phallus shaped markings in the marble as I wait, Master uses patience to keep me just this side of that white hot pleasure. It is the gyroscopic nature of this device that marks a testament to Master’s genius, the locks releasing and the free swing making no sound, meeting only perfect resistance from the gears, and I am now held upright, spread eagle, my face being fastened to the netting by twin leads pulled taught against the back of my head.
Only three feet, now, from the screen, my view filled completely by my sister’s confused, desperate, face. All this time the video has continued, her pain, my words, a soundtrack to this pleasure. Master has a perfect sense of timing; the Mia on the screen is gathering herself. I see her puff up in an attempt to regain some of her pride. Using the tools her years of service to the church have taught her. Grasping desperately to the kind of certainty that comes from thinking ‘God would agree with me’. Her hands are still shaking, betraying the confidence she’s trying to convey, as she brushes the last tear from her cheek. Squaring her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath and releasing it through taught lips, her nostrils flaring with the anger she’s trying to overcome.
“Tobin, I understand you are upset, but that language! There’s no excuse for it.”
“Mia, my dear, they’re just words, and may I remind you that you are in no position to attempt to correct me? Unless, of course you want to piss me off, I suggest you bite that god-fearing little tongue of yours before you do some permanent damage to your situation. If I were you I’d reach into that bag of tricks of yours and find some damn humility.” The tone of my voice echoes in my ears, the ice on the delivery, that stony gaze I can’t see on the screen, but know I tried to serve her. I am struck by the dichotomy of my situation, on the screen wielding my power over Mia, in Master’s name, and here and now, that power handed back to him, myself trussed, completely encased in his ropes, suspended, I feel like a fly caught in a web, vulnerable and loving it.
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