The Connoisseur: A Romance of Sexual Captivity Read online

  Not that she really had anywhere else to go.

  She had no family to speak of, a menial job far beneath her, and a rat hole of an apartment she was in very serious danger of losing. As I mentioned, I’d done my homework. She would be far, far better off, first with me, and ultimately with a new owner who would cherish and protect her, the prize of his collection of fine possessions. My partner and I operated, you might say, the ultimate and most exclusive matchmaking service the world has ever known. Our rather significant fees were paid by only one party — the Master — and our contracts were, shall we say, more binding than usual, especially for the captive woman.

  Still, there are steps. Any fool can take a woman. A gentleman, though, he earns his slave.

  And while only one party pays, both must be happy. That is the real trick. Fortunately, our screening methods are close to perfect.

  But again, I digress.

  This new Alice was going to stay with me, but I wanted her to want it. I wanted her to beg.

  Tenderly, I knelt to kiss her — a gentle rain of caresses with my lips, around the forehead, on her eyelids, on the tip if her nose. Around her lips, stretched around the red of her gag. I kissed away a single tear. She closed her eyes, and I heard a hint of a sigh from behind her gag. Then I nibbled her ear and kissed her throat above her bondage, first gently and then with true hunger. She was moaning behind her gag when I stopped at last, and her breasts were heaving. I reached around and under to caress them once more.

  I poured myself another glass of that excellent wine, and took a good sip before I slipped behind her and began kissing the round and white slopes of her bottom. The bottom is an erogenous zone, you know, as sensitive as the breasts, although the nerves are hidden beneath an ample layer of padding. It takes a firm touch to stimulate a woman’s bottom properly. I kissed lower, teasing the tops of her thighs, coming always close to the sleek wetness of her slit before dancing teasingly away. She tried to push herself backwards, an amazing feat given how tightly she was bound. I showed no mercy. She was on edge. If I flicked even the tip of my tongue across the nub of her clitoris, I felt sure she would come. But ah, too soon, too soon! Too soon for that by far.

  I stopped, and behind her gag, Alice, née Caroline, mewled with frustration.

  I moved to the back of the room, to the cabinet where I kept a selection of whips best suited for a first session. Those designed to cause pain, surely, but not to blemish Alice’s perfect skin. She tried to turn her head, hoping to discover some clue to my intentions, but of course the stocks prevented that. I heard her moaning in frustration, and thought briefly about removing her gag. But of course that would be all wrong. Best to leave it until I was ready to replace it with a rock hard cock.

  Pity, though. Her accent was lovely and her voice was music itself.

  I chose a few favorites from my rather sizable collection of instruments designed both to stimulate and torture a captive woman, and made my way back to her, wondering … with which to start? The flogger? Always a fine choice, if obvious. A paddle? The crop? Perhaps, perhaps. A single tail whip? No. Too much for a first session, I think. I found myself caressing that glorious bottom of hers as I considered. And then I decided.

  I pulled over a stool, adjusted the height, and sat down next to her. And than I spanked her solidly with the best implement of all, the one my maker had blessed me with upon my birth: my own right hand.

  Perfect as poor Alice’s bottom was, it was missing something, at least to my expert’s eye. A little color. Yes, that’s the ticket. That first hard smack made her closer cheek quiver in the most delightful way, and to my delight it began to pinken at once. I wondered if the other cheek would perform as admirably, so I applied a second good spank. It did not disappoint. Truly, my Alice was a girl born to be spanked for a gentleman’s pleasure. I caressed her bottom gently after those first two strikes.

  Truly, there are few — if indeed any — pleasures in this life that compare to the art of touching a woman’s naked flesh. The gentle caress is bliss itself. The cup or the squeeze? Utter joy. But there is something even grander about the feeling of a gentleman’s hand settling smartly on a woman’s bared body with some force behind it, especially when she is bound, helpless, and at one’s mercy.

  The hand should be fully open, curved slightly but firm for optimal sting, sound, and color. The aim must be precise, and always on one cheek or the other, never across both at the same time.

  I started slowly, warming her gently and pausing to massage the bottom between blows. That’s the best way to make the spanking last, especially when punishing a woman for the first time. I find it best to spank her first with less intensity. If the spanking is too hard, too fast, it ends too quickly. The girl will remember only the pain; it won’t have time to burn slowly and inexplicably into her most unexpected and intense pleasure. She won’t learn to crave the punishment, and that’s a very great wrong indeed. In my not inconsiderable experience, all women have a nerve that leads directly from their bottoms to their cunts, though few of them are spanked soundly or expertly enough to realize it. So a bit of a warm up, so to speak, is in order. You want the girl to submit. Nothing else will do. Besides, too short a spanking robs the gentleman of much of his own pleasure, and that’s no good either.

  So one must start slowly and build. Only when the bottom has a nice, evenly spread pink sheen should the gentleman advance to a harsher punishment. Otherwise, one is left with unsightly bruises, the very telltale sign of a rank amateur, rather than a seasoned connoisseur.

  Between the spanks and the caresses, it did not take long for Alice’s bottom to take on the proper pink glow. And then I began to work her in earnest, slowly deepening the pink to red. Two hard spanks, one to each cheek, and my poor Alice jumped in her bonds and yelped behind her gag.

  I spanked her again, and again after that, alternating between the cheeks, taking care to aim and vary my strokes carefully, so that the deepening red glow would be even. A man who doesn’t spank with care soon finds that his captive female sports a splotchy bottom, and of course that’s no good.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Poor Alice was whimpering frantically behind her gag; her delicious sounds accompanied by the martial percussion of my cupped hand upon her naked flesh, were a symphony to my ear.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  When I judged that her bottom had taken on a nice and brightly red sheen, I intensified my blows again, raining harder spanks, first on one round and bouncing hemisphere, and then the other. The red glow deepened, and Alice struggled mightily in her stock, strap, and chains. I reminded myself again that she was an athlete, but her bonds were strong. She remained helpless and vulnerable to my every whim.

  At that moment, my whim was to spank her, and soundly.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  I spanked her harder still, and my blows added yet grander percussion to the music she made behind her gag. And then I noticed that her struggles had changed. She was pushing back, raising her bottom in rhythm with my blows, rising to meet the force of my spanks as they fell. So the pain was turning to pleasure at last. I allowed myself a private smile, but I varied the rhythm and intensity of my spanks all the same. No good letting a woman think she has even this freedom. Her fate, pain or pleasure, must remain in the hand — if you’ll forgive the pun — of the gentleman.

  When the glow on her bottom was bright enough I judged it time to stop. Reluctantly, I gave to her a few last slaps for good measure, and then I stood to admire my handiwork.

  3. Alice is Rebound as We Prepare for the Next Act

  I keep a jar of specially formulated coconut oil nearby. I opened it, and spread it across the red globes of Alice’s thoroughly spanked bottom. The gentleness of the action, after the erotic brutality of the spanking, would ha
ve her mind in a whirl. I did not spare her cunt, although she hardly needed it there; the minx was wetter than a tempest—swelled flood. I did pay special attention to the rose of her asshole, though. I didn’t intend to fuck her there, not tonight, but it would be best if it accommodated something. A plug. Yes. I found the perfect one in a nearby drawer — not too large, but ample enough to make her feel well and truly full, and with a strap and a cunning shape that made it all but impossible for her to dislodge it on her own. How she yelped when it slipped inside her, even with her gag! I had not thought to ask before (and naturally she was in no position to answer me then) but I’d have wagered a fortune that she’d never taken anything from a gentleman back there before.

  I climbed behind my Alice then, and put my hands on her hips. I think she thought I meant to enter her then and fuck her soundly, but I was still dressed. And besides, we still had many games to play before that.

  I backed away, and found a nice vibrator, one with a nine—speed remote control, and slid it inside her instead. When its head rested against her clitoris, I clipped it to the belt that held her anal plug in place and set it to working at its lowest speed — enough to tease without mercy, but, even in her hyper—aroused state, not enough to bring her to climax. Soon, she would be magnificently frustrated. I wanted her in a veritable quivering frenzy, and she was well on her way indeed.

  Then I set about removing my tailored suit, silk shirt, and boxers. Donning my smoking jacket and slippers, I finished my wine, poured another, and considered how next to proceed. I twirled the wine in my glass before taking a sip. Yes, I had indeed paired wine and woman perfectly. I made it a note to have my partner suggest it to the client, when the time for Alice’s inevitable sale came at last. Perhaps we should send along a case with our compliments. We enjoyed an excellent reputation for customer service, after all. I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

  As much as I admired Alice’s bottom, I had neglected her breasts long enough. They were in reach, certainly, but I found myself wishing to her position her better, so that those luscious and firm mounds, with their pink nubs hard enough to cut glass, could command my full attention, as they so richly deserved. I took another sip, turned her vibrator up a new notches, just for a second, and then I loosened the strap around her waist. Next I released the cuffs around her ankles. Then, moving around to face her, and to gaze into those large, lovely, blue eyes, I stroked her check gently with the front of my hand.

  “Caroline, I am going to call you Alice from now own. Do you know why?”

  She shook her head.

  “Because it’s a name I chose for you, my pet.” Also because that’s what the client had ordered, but no need to tell her that just yet. “It’s a name that gives me pleasure. It’s a slave’s name, a name for a woman owned for sex. A plaything.” Her breaths came deeper, faster. “And it marks you as mine. I think you like that, don’t you, my pet? Alice. My Alice.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Are you going to be a good girl, my sweet, scrumptious Alice?”

  She hesitated, and then she nodded.

  “Good girl,” I said. “My very good girl. My Alice.” Flicking the remote control, I turned her vibrator up. All the way, to the very highest setting, and she trembled with ecstasy. I brought her to the very edge of orgasm again before I flicked it down again, and the poor thing nearly screamed with frustration. She would have, I dare say, were she not gagged so tightly.

  I removed the stocks last, and she very nearly collapsed. For the first time, she was free of bonds in my home, save for her harness gag. I caught her, lifted her nude body in my arms, and carried her like a babe. She wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.

  I carried her to a bed, and laid her down gently. Even so, she cried out behind her gag; her lovely bottom was still quite sore. Before she could react, I moved behind the wrought iron headboard, attached cuffs to her wrists, and locked them in place. Both cuffs were chained to the headboard. Moving swiftly, I moved to the foot of the bed and likewise cuffed her ankles. I wanted her securely bound before the thought to struggle even entered her mind. She had promised to be good, of course, but still, (as I mentioned) a gentleman shouldn’t let a woman believe she has a choice, even if that choice is just a token and hopeless gesture. Her surrender, after all, must remain complete. Indeed, it must only deepen.

  It is part of how I shape a woman. It is how I take a raw and natural submissive, and mold her into something priceless. It is how I make her a slave.

  I tightened all four chains with a remote control, pulling Alice’s cuffed limbs toward the corners of the bedframe until she was bound spread eagle. As a last touch, I buckled a wide leather strap across her ribcage, just beneath her breasts.

  I think once again she expected me to take her then, to remove the vibrator from her sopping cunt and enter her with a single great thrust, and pound her wet cunt until we both screamed, that gag be damned. And indeed, I found the thought more than a little tempting. My cock was hard enough to pound nails, and would surely need relief soon.

  But not yet.

  With effort, I forced the thought from my mind, and returned to my purpose. Alice’s breasts!

  The bed was actually a platform I had designed especially for positioning and dealing with a captive and naked woman in a number of most delightful ways. I stood back and adjusted a control. This one rotated the bed on an axis, raising the poor blonde until she was upright, bound, her arms and legs making the great X of a human Saint Andrew’s cross. I did not stop when she was fully aright; instead, I tilted her forward slightly. Those extra few degrees made her heavy breasts hang in the most tantalizing manner, with twin, succulent nipples rising like the tips of pink erasers from wide and puckered areolas.

  As with all of the finer pleasures, there is something to be said for presentation. My Alice was framed like a work of art, helpless and displayed for my pleasure. To be viewed and admired, and then to be served and used.

  I touched her breasts then, cupping and caressing them, and then squeezing with more urgency. I lifted them both, and they felt both warm and heavy in my eager hands. Truly, what joy can compare to the feel, weight, and taste of a woman’s breasts, especially when she is bound and helpless? Alice’s, indeed, were especially sensitive, usual for a large—breasted woman. She threw her head back and forth, whipping the free ends of her long blond tresses around the black leather straps of her harness gag. I began to wonder if she could actually climax from breast stimulation alone. I made a note to find out later (for the record, I did and she could). Her body was positively shaking with pleasure.

  I turned the vibrator fully off and dropped the remote into the pocket of my smoking jacket. I wanted her attention fully on her breasts. It seemed only fair. Mine surely was, after all.

  I bent down to kiss and nibble at them, teasing the white flesh around the nipples. The teasing drove her mad. She trembled and shook in her bonds; she struggled mightily but in vain against the chains that held her tight. She tried to twist and force the nipples into my probing mouth, but I did not allow it.

  Indeed, I teased her breasts all around the areolas for a full ten minutes or so before I finally took the left one in my mouth, sucking the tip for all I was worth, while lifting and caressing the underside with the palm of my hand. Behind her gag, she moaned with relief and need. Were her nipple a straw, I dare say I could have pulled a cantaloupe through it.

  I hoped she appreciated the effort. She would be returning the favor on my cock very soon.

  My other hand squeezed her other full mound, working the erect nipple between my middle fingers. I kept this up for a long time, alternating between those perfect globes, lest one or the other should feel neglected. I am sure the leather straps strained to keep the gag in her mouth against the force of her ecstatic screams of exquisite agony.

  Then I stopped.

  I’d determined it time to hear my Alice scream with a different kind of agony.

  4. In Wh
ich I Attend to Alice’s Bound Breasts

  I mentioned, I think, my collection of breast whips. I feel compelled to boast, with all appropriate modesty, that I think it may well be the finest in the world, although of course I have made no formal survey. I chose two favorites, a flogger and a crop, both designed specifically for the breasts, and both perfect for causing maximum sting (to the captive girl) and stimulation (to the attending gentleman) without causing unsightly blemishes, or worse, damage, to those large and most attractive orbs. Whipping a woman’s naked breasts properly is as much art as entertainment, after all.

  Alice’s lovely blue eyes grew wider again as she guessed her fate. Once again, she struggled like a wildcat, but I had bound her too well. For all her effort, she remained helpless, gagged, and at my mercy. I was not inclined to grant it.

  I did, however, appreciate how wonderfully her twin orbs jiggled and danced as she struggled. I wondered if she could possibly know how much her efforts enhanced my enjoyment of her predicament, or if she would appreciate the irony if she could.

  “Ah, Alice,” I told her, “the more you struggle, the more you make your delicious breasts bounce for me, the more I wish to whip them! You must learn to surrender to a gentleman dominant’s will more gracefully.”

  It is always a momentous occasion, when a girl is to be put to the whip for the first time, and I meant to ensure that the experience was one Alice would remember always. She must endure nothing less than my very best work. Placing the crop on a nearby table, I began with the flogger, making circular motions with my wrist to make the leather strands swing and dance against her skin.

  The flogger’s kiss was gentle at first, and I concentrated on the undersides, swooping up from below with a hard circular motion. Alice screamed behind her gag, but her nipples swelled, growing even harder than before. I began to twirl my wrist more vigorously, and her bouncing breasts danced with every rotation. I moved from one breast to the other, watching them redden with a most charming pattern of stripes that slowly spread into a more uniform sheen as the whipping continued. Her breasts were sweating, tiny drops that turned the red sheen into a glow.