The Gift That Keeps On Giving

"No way," he repeated.

"What he didn't count on were his feelings. He is not an introspective man. He understands property and money, reward and punishment, but not much else. Perhaps because he was now older than before, perhaps because he really loved her, he missed her. Why did he let her stay? Why not reel her back after a month? Perhaps to improve her value to the firm. Perhaps he fought a compulsion he found unacceptable. Perhaps when she succeeded and you became lovers, he felt that he'd entered into a bargain and could not renege. He regards contracts as sacrosanct. Perhaps he knew that she was happy.

"But something happened that made it easy for him, that gave him no choice in fact."

He sat very still, listening.

"You two were running wild. Sooner or later you were going to do something extra stupid and bring ruin on yourselves and embarrassment to the firm. Worse, in his eyes, you were distracted and not working as effectively as before. It wasn't marked yet, but he's good at looking at graphs and projections. So he came east and took her back.

"I think in some sense you think this too. Why else would you stay at the same job. Not even change where you hide your frontdoor key? I think you just hope it'll be she he sends next."

"Get the fuck out!" he shouted. He leapt up, rushed towards her, slammed her against the hall wall, yanked the front door open and threw her into the sleet. She stumbled on the steps and went sprawling in the slush.

"My phone," she gasped. "It's in my fucking bag. Get the bag. I need to call a fucking cab."

This was too much. She hadn't called earlier. She'd been sent to torment him. He went for her, fell on the steps and slid in the slush himself. He grabbed her and carried her back in. Her legs kicked wildly. He took her into the kitchen. When she started to run, he grabbed her and slapped her. "Strip," he ordered.

She looked at him. He prepared to slap her again, slug her this time. She pulled the dress over her head and she was naked. There hadn't been much for her to do.

"Bend over that chair." He pointed to a kitchen chair. When she obeyed, he took duct tape from the junk drawer and wrapped each ankle to a chair leg. Then he yanked at her arms and duct taped her wrists to the chair's back legs. He rushed from the room, leapt upstairs and returned with the black leather whip. He laid into her back with a vengeance.

She shrieked. He grabbed the washrag redolent of detergent and incipient mildew from where it hung on the faucet, stuffed it in her mouth and duct taped that. He crisscrossed her slim back.

Twice, when he brought the strands of the whip up between her thighs and across her cunt she and the chair toppled over onto the hard tiles.

The second time he untaped her. She struggled in real earnest but he turned her and bound her sitting, making new fields of smooth flesh available for his reaping.

He paused, panting. He poured himself a drink. When he recommenced, it was different. He was in control. Though it hurt and stung and she wept and writhed, she no longer feared for herself.

He set the whip down on the counter. He looked exhausted and sad. He poured two drinks and then let her loose.

"Get me my phone," she said, her voice a whisper. Her skin was red and welted. She was slick with sweat and her face was tear streaked.

He handed her the scotch and she drained it and coughed and spluttered. He made to slap her back but she raised a hand, "God, please don't. I'm aflame. I'll go. Just get me my phone."

"Into the living room." he ordered.

She looked at him. She noticed for the first time that there was a grim kind of excitement about him.

"Now," he ordered. He reached for the whip.

"Shit", she said, then "Shit it hurts," when she stood. Her skin wanted to stay in one position and not stretch or move at all. Every square inch of it seemed intensely alive to her. She limped naked and bent into the living room.

"Look," she said, "Have pity, don't make me lie on anything."

"Lean against the fireplace." When she bent forward and put her hands on the brick, the embers' glow made her chest all the more sensuously red. She felt his cock push against her cunt, separate her sex lips and push in. There was pain to it as she was as tender there as anywhere. Then she cried out in sudden surprising pleasure, the pain of the whipping bubbled in her and she came with such force that her legs cramped. He gripped her hips, that hurt too. He held her till she could keep her feet. The sweat on his belly and thighs hurt when he thrust against her. Each thrust brought a little gasp of pain to her lips. She shook her head and came again. His hands gripped her waist again, she yelped and he pushed hard against her and she felt him come. His seed and her wetness stung as they dribbled down her thighs.

"Put more wood on the fire, then stand on the rug," he said.

He watched her careful painful movements a moment. He noticed her sweating tear streaked face and how her body was slick and smelled of sweat. He went to the kitchen, poured a large glass of water from the tap and watched her gulp it down. "Go up and shower," he said, "Then come back."

He watched her limp upstairs. He heard the pipes shake as the shower started. It was an old house with old plumbing.

He sat and looked at the fire. Then from his briefcase he took his laptop and some papers and did a bit of work.

He didn't notice her return. Her cough made him look up. She looked noticeably better. Her skin was still red and streaked, but her beautiful high browed face was now restored. She looked at him with something like interest, something like amusement, something like desire.

He looked in her bag. As he'd suspected, he found a little first aid kit and a tube of herbal gel. What he had upstairs, that Katy had left, might well have gone bad. He spread it on her. On her arms, legs, thighs, back, breasts, belly. The glow from the shower and the shine from the gel made her red, crisscrossed flesh so sensuous.

"How do you explain the presents?" he asked.

"Katy was your first girl?" she asked. She felt his fingers falter and she laughed, "What a way to start."

Then she said, "The first present didn't show up 'till 5 years or so afterwards? Mmm that's nice."

"Closer to 10."

"Well, perhaps he still wanted to reward you, but he was worried about another blow up, not without reason I'll add. So he waited before sending you what he was sure you wanted. Then when you blew up in a quite different way, he's perhaps not without a sense of humor and perhaps your reaction tickled it."

The tube ran out and he did have to get the old gel from upstairs. He fingered and explored her cunt while rubbing it in.

When done, he handed her her phone. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, I'll be glad to add to what you're getting paid, for hazardous duty. I'll have to go to a machine tomorrow. I don't have much cash now. Your dress is in the kitchen."

She left the room, moving much easier now. He heard her in the kitchen, heard her voice. He heard her laugh. He sighed and looked back at his laptop.

Later he heard the front door open and close. He thought, "Now all I have is my work. That's what I want."

He was shocked when he sensed movement and her naked hourglass form flowed from his peripheral vision to the hearth. She took the deck of cards from the mantle, blew off the dust, and set it on the glass coffee table by his laptop. She shuffled the cards once, twice, then said, "Cut."

"I thought you'd," he managed.

"I needed my suitcase. I'll need my clothes sooner or later and my computer and stuff. Cut or just pick a card if you trust me."

"Shit." he said, "What are you playing at?"

"It's no game. Didn't you hear me earlier? I am your present. If you want me to go you have to say. Or pick a card."

Later, the girl knelt before him. Her least painful position. He lay on his side on the hearth rug admiring her.

"How do you explain how you succeeded when the earlier girls failed?" he asked in sated voice.

"Oh, time and I was smart, I parked my car around the block. Froze my little toes getting my suitcase."

He ran a finger along one of the many long red lines that started on her breast and ran down her belly.

Her nipples hurt from where they'd been clamped, there were angry red marks left by clothespins, where the wax had dribbled the red that was her new skin color took an extra angry tone. Only her face, the palms of her hands and her feet had been spared. "I'll have to call in sick. Hope this lot heals quick."

"Your employer must often see girls in your condition," he observed.

"I don't think so," she laughed. "I'm starting in your office. Supposed to start tomorrow, but I don't think so." She met his stare. "I just graduated from the University of Chicago, near the top of my class. I majored in Economics. I'll be in your group."

"You really are from him? Not from an escort agency?" he asked.

He saw her nod.

"Listen," he said, "I could not stand to go through that again. It was hell and heaven and when he took her it was all hell that never stopped. And I'm not sure I want it. Looking back, I'm not at all happy about a lot of what we did. And you aren't Katy," he added sadly.

"That's to the good," she replied, "There won't be the love. That's what threw gasoline on the fire. And you are older now too. You will look on me with the eyes of an older man. I will just be your possession." He saw her shiver slightly.

"Still," he said, "If he asked you to return to him?"

"I would in a second."

"Then I'd rather you left now."

She moved, winced in pain, and kissed his chest. "Oh, I don't think he'll reconsider. Though his possession, I'm of a slightly different kind from Mom. He wants to have grandchildren who are like real smart."