Duty-Bound

"Not necessary, Mr. Cates. Keep your money. I've been well compensated. You are asked to put the mask on before entering the room. Have a nice evening."

I could hear my heart pound as the elevator climbed to the eleventh floor. If the elevator operator could hear my heart beat, he certainly did a great job hiding it. I treaded the lush hallway carpet of the 12th floor looking for 1215. Once I found it, I paused for a second to gather myself. I wanted to make sure I was prepared to play the game. The last thing I wanted to do was rush in like a horny schoolboy, hard-on an all, which is kind of how I felt. I took a deep breath and slid the key into the lock. The tumblers clicked. I turned the knob and pressed the door open. I pulled the mask over my face and entered.

The apartment was tastefully appointed. I ran my hand over the furniture's rich fabric. Each elegant sculptures, portraits, and pieces of Indian pottery sat in the soft glow of low light. The corner condo looked out onto the Hudson to the east and to the shimmering towers of Midtown to the south. No way could Heather afford this place. I guessed at what she made and figured she had tapped into one helluva sugar daddy.

I heard soft jazz rolling down the hall. I knew I was to follow the sound, and it led me to a bedroom that was lit by gentle fire. Sitting next to marble fireplace was Heather. She still wore her black wig and mask, but she'd shunned the slinky dress for a glimmering silk nightgown. Her long legs were crossed and, bathing in the flame's golden light, were as tempting and alluring as Sirens. Heather rose and walked to a table at which she poured champagne for both of us. Watching her silk draped figure flow across the room was hypnotic; even the simplest movement expressed her profound sexuality - an erotic allure that nearly took my breath away.

"I always admired your imagination and taste for adventure, Heather," I said taking the flute from her long slender fingers. "But I confess, I never quite imagined this."

Heather walked around me before returning to her seat by the fire. "I'm very interested in what you imagine, Phillip."

The voice was not at all what I expected. Granted I'd been drinking enough for my senses to play some tricks, but Heather's southern belle's voice was unmistakable. This voice was very different. She must have sensed my confusion.

"Do you know who I am, Phillip?"

"No. No I don't."

"I like that," she said smiling. "It gives me freedom."

She crossed her long legs, allowing me for just an instant to look into the dark region between her soft thighs. Obviously taken aback, I didn't know how to respond. I took a long drink from the champagne. My eyes scanned the length of her legs. I could tell from the way her calves tapered to her ankles that this was a woman who took care of herself. My eyes fell on the rich bracelet that slid along her slender ankle as her leg slowly pumped. Then I saw it. I caught a fleeting glimpse of it as her foot passed through the firelight. At first I wasn't sure. The room was dark and scotch had influenced my perception. But then I saw it again. It was small and would have gone completely undetected had I not known what I was looking for. Just above the ankle, partly covered by the bracelet was the tiniest cut - just a scratch really. HM. Not Heather at all. Whereas the "H" became a mystery, the "M" revealed itself. Merrill. My first impulse was to run from the room. Then I realized whom I was dealing with and the hell she could make my life should I offend her. My second impulse was to show no fear. She arranged this game. This was something she wanted. Typical of her style, she'd gone to elaborate lengths to get what she wanted - to satisfy a need that only a select few had ever had the pleasure. With this realization, the fear ebbed and my curiosity started to surge.

"Does it bother you, Phillip?" she asked.

"Does what bother me?"

"Does it bother you to be used in this way," she smiled. "After all, you've been beckoned to serve a single function - to satisfy a women the name of whom you're never permitted to know." Her lips pressed into a faint smile, a subtle indications that she enjoyed offering me her perspective on our "arrangement."

"I understand you were in the military. Gulf War," she continued. "Then you must be used to all kinds of interesting assignments. Surely an evening like this can't frighten a war hero."

It may have been the expensive champagne. It may have been the teasing. It my have been my knowledge that I had discovered the chink in her armor. Or it may have been the vulnerability I divined in a rare and fleeting girlish gesture. It probably was all of these. I walked to her. I pulled the room key from my pocket and dropped it in her lap. "The champagne was perfect. The setting singular. The possibilities - intoxicating; however, I think you are looking for another kind of lover. Strangely, I wish I were more intimidated, alas guess we're just left to imagine the possibilities." As I turned to leave, she reached for my arm. My gamble had paid off. I grabbed both her wrists and trapped them against the arms of the chair. I put my face close to hers. "I know you better than you think, and I'm betting you're ready to have me prove it to you." The self-confidence had left her mouth. Like a hiding, but curious child, she looked at me from behind that mask.

As I stared into those eyes, I pulled open the front of her robe. I watched her eyes grow wider as I slowly circled the curve of her breasts with my fingertips. Exploring her flesh and feeling the heat rise from it. I ran a fingertip over her pink nipple and felt it stiffen beneath my touch. I smiled. Withdrew my hand from her breast and walked back to retrieve the glass I'd left on the table. With my back to her, I poured another glass of champagne and drank deep.

"Perhaps, you should leave," she said. "This is not what I had in mind."

"Really?" I said as I returned to her. I took her arm and lifted her from the chair. I led her to a window that overlooked the river. I let her watch the reflection in the window as I stood behind her and opened her rope. I let her watch my hands as they slid up over her flat tummy and cupped her breasts. I kissed her neck and lightly bit into the perfumed flesh. I heard her gasp. "I thought so," I whispered in her ear. She reached back to touch the firmness that I pressed against her ass, but I caught the hand and with it led her to the bed.

I rebuffed her efforts to pull me into the bed. I demanded control. Complete control. I slid from her grasp and pushed her roughly onto the bed. I pulled her legs apart and stood between them, my body looming over her sex. I reached down and took her in my hand. I felt the bristle of her trimmed mound against my palm and then I felt the moisture dampening my fingertips. I curled my hand against her sex, and let a finger slide inside her moist cunt. My fingertip stroked the velvet walls of her pussy. Her stomach rose and fell as in spasm of delight. She reached for my wrist, but again I denied her any control. This time I stripped away the silk robe from her body. In one motion I tore it in two. The sound of the ripping fabric elicited a groan - a mix of surprise and arousal. I lifted her long legs into the bed and with each half of the silk robe I bound her wrists to the antique cast iron bedposts. I kissed her mouth, forcing my tongue inside. "Mine", I groaned before I ran my tongued down her neck, over her dappled chest. I brushed my lips over her now pebble hard nipples. My hungry mouth kissed and tasted her tummy, pausing to tug at the stud that pierced her navel. I traced my fingertips over the tattoo. It excited me to discover the blue and pink symbol of naughtiness that she kept hidden from the world. It was a serpent of some kind. Reared and potent. It's muscular, scaly body coiled beneath it. It's mouth open, hungry. It's eyes looking down at her moist and swollen cunt. My mouth explored the neat little strawberry bush. I felt her hips rise to meet me, but she'd have to wait. First I licked the nectar that dampened her creamy thighs. My fingers dug into her flesh. I bit at it with carnivorous zeal. Her low groans had turned to whimpers. When my mouth descended on her juicy cunt, she let forth a cry of pleasure, pent anticipation. I licked the nectar from the folds of her pussy, leaving not a drop. I curled my hands under her pink ass and lifted her to my mouth, so that my hungry tongue could plunge inside her.

She furiously pulled against the silks as my tongue teased her swollen clit. I'd bring her close to climax and stop. Bring her to the edge of ecstasy once again and stop.

"You'll come in my good time," I told her.

I rolled her over to her tummy and ordered her to lift her ass. Offer it up to me. As she did, she looked back at me. Her lips were parted as she panted. I watched her silently mouth the word, "Please." I spanked the pink bottom. Watched it grow red and spanked again. I bit down into the globes of her delicious ass, and as I did, three fingers filled her now drenched pussy. I wiped the juices that rolled down her thighs and offered my moistened fingers to her mouth.

"Are you ready to be fucked?" I finally asked. "Ready to feel my servant's cock."

"Now!" she ordered.

"It doesn't work that way," I said in a controlled voice.

"Fuck me!" she cried.

"Getting closer."

"Fuck me! Fuck me, goddamit!"

"Well, this is not what I had in mind," and I left the bed.

"Please. Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. Please. I beg you. Fuck me now."

I released her from the bonds. She rolled to her back and lie there panting, watching me undress. I slid next to her and we both luxuriated in the contact of our flesh.

I did fuck Ms. Merrill; in fact, our damp bodies were still colliding in passion when the first streaks of golden sunlight danced over the surface of the Hudson.

Ms. Merrill and I never spoke; never met again. After all, she was in control. Heather was promoted shortly thereafter to an office on the 15th floor. I missed our sexy repartee, so about a week after she'd settled in, I went to her office to congratulate her. The office was empty, so I decided to find a piece of scrap paper with which to leave her a note. As I was looking for a pen, I discovered something lying in an unpacked box. I picked up the midnight mask. A note was attached to the inside.

Heather. Thanks for the costume. Everything worked perfectly. Just as you said it would. HM