Association

I punched up some CDs on the jukebox and got to work setting up a plain white backdrop for the test shots. By the time I calibrated the lights to the flash, I realized it was almost lunchtime. Better try a few Polaroids first, I decided as I hummed along to some of Frank Zappa's nursery crimes. After all, Sabrina wasn't going anywhere.

Or so I hoped. I realized there was no guarantee that my sudden good fortune would last any longer than this afternoon. This was probably the trickiest relationship I had ever attempted, although I'd been in some doozies in the past. But none where the implicit had been so explicit up front. Usually, it took forever to get a partner interested in my particular avocation, and most of those failed as soon as scenes progressed beyond wrist cuffs. And the ones who were honest about their shared affection for my affliction tended to be like Brenda, or worse: dishrag submissives, topping-from-below banshees, furry/Gor fantasists, pain sluts, porn starlets in training, and all manner of gold diggers willing to do anything to get at my stock-portfolio password.

With Sabrina, I had thrown out the old rules of engagement; usually I started off being a nice guy, then turned into a fire-breathing sadist later. Stunningly, it seemed to be working. But the Big Transition loomed large on the horizon. Did she want me to continue to be the big bad dom who treated her like a prized pet? Or did she want a "normal" relationship (whatever the hell those were) in which sexual torture was our preferred mode of foreplay? I would be more than happy to keep her bound, gagged and physically, if not psychically, perturbed for many moons to come. But how long would she last under such treatment? It would be something like solitary confinement, or worse. Eventually, she would get...bored.

And most likely, I hated to admit, so would I.

I put down my camera and turned off the strobe. There has to be a center solution, I decided. One where we could maintain our established structure without turning her into a bondage cliché like a harem girl, or a maid.

Or a pony, I chuckled, although, damn, Sabrina looked great in hooves. Good exercise, too...yeah, right. Speaking of which, I headed up the stairs and out the back door toward the barn.

"That's my girl," I said affectionately as I entered her stall, giving her rump a light swat with his palm. "Miss me? Probably not. Well, anyway, time for lunch. Let's get you out of your tack and head back to the house."

I stripped her naked, then gestured toward the door.

"Come on, let's go, I'm starving. Anything special you want for lunch?"

"Yes...please," she replied tentatively.

"Permission granted to speak normally," I said, smiling. "And just so you know, after we eat lunch, I am going to take you up to my bedroom and fuck you silly: no gags, no cuffs, no corsets, no nothing except what's naturally attached to us. Then, we're going to figure out how we're going to do this thing together for the long term. Over the last day and a half, you've experienced one option. Something tells me you may have other ideas. And now's the time to tell me."

I extended a hand around her neck, pulled her face closer to mine, and kissed her long and hard, our tongues squirming like charmed snakes.

--SABRINA--

After such a passionate embrace, lunch was an annoying necessity. I asked for sandwiches because they didn't require any preparation, and I ate them so quickly, I had to wait twice as long for Geoffrey to finish.

During our meal, I would have gladly shared the ideas he was so keen to hear, but he turned our conversation to his new photography assignment. My heart missed a beat as I imagined another woman in the house. However, when he mentioned the printer, I silently admonished myself for being so stupidly jealous.

Despite its technical approach, he caught my interest. Hearing him talk about his work, or anything personal for that matter, was a rare indulgence. I hung on every word, and asked as many questions as I could come up with. It was both amazing and reassuring to discover that he led some kind of a normal life, too. He still hadn't given me a proper explanation for all this auction nonsense, but I hoped what I didn't care to know wouldn't hurt me.

When the table was cleared, Geoffrey led me into the hall. I had to fight the urge to run up the stairs like an overexcited child. Instead I followed him quietly up and into his room.

There, faithful to his promise, he fucked me silly.

What an appropriate choice of words, I chuckled when, almost an hour later, I was slowly cooling down from his repeated assaults. I had cuddled up close to him after the grand finale and idly caressed his chest with my fingers. I felt silly. And happy. Happily silly. Partly because of the sexual satiation, but also because I felt some interesting changes approaching. He had obviously done some thinking on his own and had reached the same conclusion as I had. In the long term, we needed more than bondage to keep us together.

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, twinkling like two tiny stars. Our lips met shortly, and then he asked me to go ahead and tell him what I'd been dying to tell him ever since we left the barn.

I smiled at his accurate judgment of my inborn impatience and finally opened up.

"You're right, I do have other ideas. Not that I don't like what we're doing, but I need something else, too. I need to be busy, useful, active. Not only in a dirt ring."

I waited to see if I didn't exceed my newly-recovered right to speak, but he nodded for me to continue, and I went on, gaining composure with each phrase and each nod.

I told him I wished I could help him with his work. I would do anything, help with the photo sessions or administrative matters, whatever he would consider. I was a fast typist, I knew my way around computers, and I was good with figures. At the International Fashion Council, I had dealt with administrative and financial procedures, as well as communications. Perhaps he could put my experience to good use?

Then, afraid of giving the wrong impression, I added:

"Just so you know, I certainly don't want a 'normal' relationship with kinky activities as evening entertainment. I'd like our very special association to continue as it is. I'm afraid I'm going to be extremely bored if I don't do anything else but wait for you to return, even with a vibrator as companion, y'know?"

As if Geoffrey had listened long enough, he rolled away from me and got up from the bed.

"Okay, here's what we'll do," he said. "Take a quick shower, then come and join me in my study."

Ten minutes later, fresh, naked and curious, I knocked on his study door further down the corridor and entered. He was standing behind his desk, taking documents out of a drawer and piling them in front of him, next to the computer.

He beckoned me by his side and ordered me to spread my legs. When I did, I watch him insert a thick vibrator in my still vaguely burning sex and secure it tightly with my chastity belt.

Next, he asked me to sit on the desk chair, a very basic wooden antiquity, and used several coils of white rope to tie my ankles, knees and thighs to it. Leaving my upper body free of any bonds, he explained what he expected from me.

"A friend of mine used to check my accounts every now and then, but he left town three months ago and I haven't found anyone to replace him yet. Here are all the bills and invoices related to that period. Can you put some order in that mess?"

"Sure. At least I can try."

He turned on the computer and opened an accounting program.

"This is what he used. See if you can make something out of it. I have work to do in the studio for the rest of the afternoon, so you have a few hours to yourself. However--"

While he spoke, he had pulled a wire under the chastity belt and connected it to a socket behind the desk, fixing it on the ground with various straps of heavy tape.

"You're allowed to take a few breaks. If you don't know when, this timer will tell you."

He showed me the black box halfway between the chair and the wall, and I had no problem understanding what he meant.

He bent down to kiss my forehead and left after one last encouragement.

Eager to get to work, I took the pile of papers on my left and proceeded to sort them out. Seeing the names of his clients, I realized most of his work was highly technical. Expensive, too. And I certainly appreciated the fact that he trusted me to see all this.

It didn't take me more than ten minutes to figure out the home accounting program his accountant used to work with, and I started to record the data in the expense or expenditure files. Then, just as I was typing yet another five-digit figure in the credits, the vibrator buzzed to life. Time for a break.

I leaned on the chair and let my head roll back. Ooooh, the fucker was fast and strong. I gripped the arms of the chair with my hands and began to moan along the vibrating tune playing inside. The song lasted for about ten minutes, then stopped as abruptly as it had started. I took a couple of deep, slow breaths and, straightening up, resumed my work.

Two hours later, all the data of the last three months were neatly computerized. In addition, I had created a file for his clients, another one for his suppliers, and noted that he had a couple of late invoices to recover, but all his bills were paid. I also took, or rather was forced to take, three more breaks.

My excitement had reached new proportions. There was the sex thrill, but there was something else, too. I was convinced we could make this work for a very long time; why not forever? Our relationship had started on an unusual, out-of-this-world level. Now we were laying down more solid foundations, rooting our uncommon desires in reality. Yes, if our minds functioned as well together as our bodies did, this could truly work.

When Geoffrey returned, I showed him what I'd done and waited for him to say whether I had the job.

--GEOFFREY--

"I'm impressed, Sabrina," I said after studying the screens. "Very, very impressed."

In fact, I was stunned, as my facility at spreadsheets was limited to launching Excel attachments whenever my tax attorney sent them via email for my review. The accounts payable were current. The deadbeats were marked for immediate attention. Hell, even my expenses looked plausible. And all without a single question. Stunning. Not to mention scary. What kind of brain did Sabrina have churning away in that beautiful head of hers?

And more importantly, why wasn't it in its proper state, i.e. wrapped in leather?

I figured it would take somewhere close to eternity to figure out the answer to the first question. The second was considerably easier to address.

"Nice work. We shall continue working on the computer tomorrow. But now, it's time to dress for dinner."

I left her tied to the chair while I went to my studio to select her outfit and accessories for the evening.

Her favorite thigh-high boots were a given, as was the matching binder for her arms. For a corset, I selected one she hadn't worn before; it would cover her entire torso from the middle of her hips to a pair of half-moon cups that would shape and lift her breasts most deliciously. The thickest discipline collar and a steel bar to connect the back of her neck to her wrists, the leather hood, plus the earplugs and a penis gag with a breathing hole. A pair of clamps- -no, make that two--plus weights. I'd choose things to insert inside her later, after my own needs were satiated.

I returned upstairs, untied her from the chair, and removed the vibrator just as it was starting up yet again.

"Hold out your left leg."

It took upward of an hour before she was laced, plugged and pinned, but when I stood up to admire her, the net effect made my legs tremble. I quickly pulled together the slack from the chains between the clamps adorning her nipples and her labia, and clipped the end of a leash around them.

I led her into the dining room, and pushed her down onto her knees next to my chair at the table. I reached into my pocket and pulled out three padlocks, which I looped through rings molded into her boots to connect her upper and lower thighs, followed by her ankles. Then I wrapped the leash tightly around the leg of the table so she couldn't move without causing immense stress on her most sensitive spots.

"Dinner will be served in about an hour, mademoiselle" I said with a bow, doing my best imitation of an oily, unctuous waiter at a one- star restaurant getting by on its dessert tray.

Not that she was in any position to critique my performance, I thought with a smile, although many might think that deaf, dumb and blind aptly describes most dining-out reviewers.

--SABRINA--

Kneeling in perfect silence and darkness, I was wonderfully peaceful. Despite his total dominance over me, Geoffrey still respected me as a person, a person with ideas, a person with abilities, and that was all I needed to know. With no doubts and no questions, my mind was finally at rest; for a girl like me, always too quick to think about potential problems, this was unknown bliss.

Relaxed as I was, I still had to make sure I stayed still. Each time my body lolled back, attracted by the weight of the armbinder and the bar that linked it to my neck, flashes of pain summoned me to refocus on my position. The strain on my shoulders increased, but that wasn't a problem. If it pleased him, it pleased me, too; for the first time, I realized an important change in me. I wanted to give him what he wanted; not to avoid punishment, not to gain praise, but just to give him satisfaction. After everything Geoffrey had done for me, I felt he deserved it.

He brought me out of my reverie when he removed the gag.

Two minutes later, he filled my mouth with food. With taste and smell as my only available senses, I tried to guess what I was eating while I chewed on a thin slice of what might be pasta with a variety of toppings. Pizza. That much was easy. Determining the ingredients wasn't.

I had never taken so much pleasure in eating. The food was lovely, yet I couldn't tell what it was. This was fun. Sensual. Erotic.

Between mouthfuls, he let me drink, but he alternated the beverages. First I tasted water. Then some sparkling soda. Then an awful bitter drink that I almost spat out, but swallowed with disgust. Beer?

When this entertaining meal was over, he buckled the gag back in place, untied the leash and my leg restraints, and helped me up.

I shivered a little when he placed his arm around my hips to lead me to the living room. My heart was beating in anticipation of yet another evening with him. Even watching television would be a very exciting option.

--GEOFFREY--

While feeding Sabrina dinner, I finally realized what it was about her that had me so entranced.

She wanted this--the good, the bad, the worse, the terrible, the terrifying, the torture, all of it--as much as I wanted to dish it out.

"Hard to believe, but true," I said out loud, knowing she couldn't hear me, as I guided her into the living room.

And if I was really lucky, she'd eventually need it as much as I did, too.

That was the tricky part; when would "enough" be enough for her? For me, too much was never enough. I'd been hardwired for bondage since my earliest memories, but I had yet to meet a woman who shared my desires from the opposite perspective. Could Sabrina be the exception that proved the rule?

The only way to find out was to push her as far as I dared, then pull back and make her beg for more.

I led her to the center of the living room and let her stand while I rolled back a portion of the carpet to reveal the hardwood floor. Interspersed between the beams were several round holes. I pulled open a drawer in a small table by the couch and removed four silver eyebolts, then screwed three of them into the floor around her in a triangle pattern.

I compelled her to kneel by pushing down on her head, then pulled apart her legs until her ankles were next to the eyebolts. Reaching into my pocket, I produced two of the padlocks I had previously used on her legs, and snapped them around the rings on her boots and two of the metal circles in the floor.

I screwed the fourth eyebolt into the breathing hole in her gag, pushed her head down again until it touched the third eyebolt in the floor, and locked them together.

"That should keep you out of trouble." Or get you into a world of trouble you can't possibly imagine, I thought as I headed downstairs to choose the evening's whip.

Or perhaps a paddle, I decided after digging down a layer in the chest where I stored my collection of striking gear.

The bottom of the corset pushed out the cheeks of her ass so they were almost perfectly round, I noted with pleasure as my fingers danced across her goosebump-sprinkled flesh.

I struck her once, then moved my fingers to her rectum, which I pinched, poked and prodded until I heard what sounded most definitely like a scream emanating from the direction of her head.

"As you wish," I said as the paddle swooshed through the air and connected with a report that sounded like a backfiring car.

Back to her asshole, only this time, I lubricated my fingers with clear jelly first, delving deeper and deeper inside her rubbery canal. When she groaned audibly, the paddle flew again.

It took at least ten more strikes before she finally learned to keep quiet while I inserted one, then two, then three fingers inside her.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. Yanking down my pants, I entered her from behind and slowly leaned forward until my entire erection was inside her.

Moan. Swat. Oooh, I liked the way she clenched just then. Let's do that again.

And again.

And once again.

I began to slowly rock back and forth on my knees behind her, immensely enjoying the way her muscles grabbed at my cock like a relay racer gripping the baton.

"I wonder what would happen if I took off your nipple clamps off right now?"

I reached under her body and tugged the leash still dangling from the chains connected to her breasts and crotch.

--SABRINA--

As much as I aimed to please Geoffrey, it wasn't always easy to guess what he expected of me. Even in my current condition, fixed to the floor, I had a few options. Squirm, not squirm. Moan, not moan. Clench, not clench. Obviously, my body had reflexes which were almost impossible to control. I supposed he had a firm idea about how an accomplished sex slave should react, and I had to figure it out as well, the hard way.

No movement and no sound was probably a given, even though it was easier said than done. Despite my will to stay quiet and still, my hips swayed left and right to avoid any painful contact, while my throat let out involuntary cries of torment. With the plugs filling my ears, I could hear their distorted sounds from the inside, and they were more frightening than silence itself.

When the pain turned into sexual fuel, I stifled any moan I could feel coming up. The strikes on my ass instantly stopped. A sure sign that I had finally understood an important part of the lesson.

However, when he entered me, I forgot all about it. He was going to tear me apart. In my absolute darkness, I imagined red drops of blood staining my thighs in long, thin rivers. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't hurt me so badly, but I was feeding my pleasure with sordid images, adding mental distress to the physical torture. And my excitement grew tenfold.

At the back of my mind, I was horrified at my own participation in this crazy game. Perhaps I should stop it, bring it back to a reasonable level; is there reason where pleasure reigns as an absolute master?

If I had had a chance to slow down the frenetic escalade, it vanished when, without warning, my breasts and sex exploded in new dimensions of pain. The world began to spin. I heard a terrible howl resonate in my ears and felt I was losing ground. Angry at myself for being so weak, I fought the downward spiral that threatened to take me away from both the pain and the pleasure. If only I had something to focus on; but the darkness was so compelling, so inviting.