Aprons For Gayle Ch. 18

Glaring down at her, he was disheartened to see how red and bloodshot her eyes were. He knew it was an accident, and he wasn't going to punish her, not really. She would definitely be outside of her comfort zone, but his intentions were not evil.

"Do we need to have a discussion regarding the difference between Scottish English and American Eng ..."

He kept babbling on, but Gayle was so shocked at his attitude and tone that she didn't know what to say. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

"I'm ... sorry ... Sir," she croaked, sniffled and turned her head away.

"I've had a horrid day at work, and I'm not in the mood for your insolence. When I am ready to talk with you, I will start the conversation. Do you understand?"

I understand you're a fucking dick, boss! "Yes Sir, I understand."

Several minutes past as the wrinkling of the newspaper was the only sound made in the room, other than an occasional sniffling from Gayle as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She was so distraught, in fact, she was still shaking from holding her confession in.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to him and stammered, speaking as quickly as she could to get it all out before he interrupted her again, "Sir, I'm sorry, but I broke one of your vases. It was an accident. I'm really, really sorry!"

He paused a moment before he took another sip then set the opened newspaper on his chest. "Hmm? What did you say?"

Closing her eyes briefly, she explained, "When I was cleaning, I ... lost my balance and the vacuum cleaner fell ... the vase fell and shattered on the hardwood floor." She took a deep breath to hold back a howling cry. "I'm so sorry."

You're not going to mention tripping over Bessie? Oh, my sweet bonny hen.

"Vase, you say? Which vase?"

"The ... vase on the table by the window in here. It's in the kitchen, but ... it can't be ... There's too many pieces ..." Her body shook violently, she looked away ashamed and began to sob.

"The ivory-colored vase with the heather etched on it?" She nodded. "Hmm."

Hmm? That's all you have to say?!

Calmly and slowly, he folded up the newspaper and set it on the coffee table. Putting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and almost got directly into her face. "Ms. Boyce, are you aware that the vase has been in our family for generations?" he asked, his voice slowly rising with every word.

"No Sir, and I can't even imag -"

"And do you have ANY idea of the value of that vase?" he roared, his tone harsh and his deep baritone bounced off the stone walls and drilled into her skull, piercing her brain and eradicating thousands of brain cells.

She cringed and wanted to crawl under the sofa. Shaking badly, she could barely speak. Swallowing several times and clearing her throat, she finally looked at him and garbled, "I'm sure it's worth tens of thou -"

He put his hand up, instantly silencing her. Her shoulders bobbed up and down as she broke down into a fresh flow of tears.

"Ms. Boyce, I'm fully aware that items that get broken are accidents, but they shouldn't happen in the first place. Do you agree or disagree?"

She was afraid to answer him, for fear gripped her heart, and she could hardly fathom why he was so incessantly angry. Yes, she knew he was going to be mad. Yes, she knew she was going to get yelled at. No, she didn't think she'd get her ass reamed as badly as she was.

"ANSWER ME!" he bellowed.

She was so startled she jumped and burst into a hailstorm of heavy, warm tears, her cries filling the room. "Aggreee wid you," she managed to say.

"Ms. Boyce, you will go downstairs to the dungeon, start a fire and wait for me there. I may be a few minutes, or I may be an hour. I have to consider what the appropriate punishment shall be."

If she had eaten lunch, it would have ended up on the clean carpet in front of her, and then that would just give him something more to scream at her about.

"Yes Sir," she croaked.

Still shaking, unable to gain any control of the sobbing, she placed both hands on the floor and pushed herself up, not even caring how undignified she appeared. She couldn't care less. It'd be better to get it over with by letting him kill her in the basement and bury her in the Tithe garden,if he'd give her that much of a dignified burial.

Her own slippers were sitting by the coffee table, and as she went to slip her feet into them, Hamish barked, "No! I do not want you comfortable while you are waiting. I want you tothink about what you've done."

She looked at him appalled, remembering how cold the stone staircase was the first time she went down there barefoot. Attempting one final attempt, she pleaded, "Please, Sir, Mr. McDougal, don't -"

The callous look he gave her metaphorically slapped her across her face, and she knew it was a lost cause. "Now."

Taking her death walk out of the room and into the hall, when she passed the French doors leading to the back, she contemplated running out and seeking safe haven with David. But she kept on toward the dungeon and down the stairs. Kneeling on the hard, cold stone floor, she allowed herself a few minutes of heart-wrenching cries of anguish before she tried as hard as she could to control her crying.

Fifteen minutes later ...

Hamish changed out of his work clothes, grabbed a few play items, set most of them at the top of the dungeon stairs then quietly walked down. The chill of the room was gone from the nice fire she'd made, yet when he looked at her kneeling on the floor, her nipples were sprightly and hard, regardless of the heat from the fire. The apples of her cheeks were red and splotchy, as he was expecting, but he frowned when he saw the single tear streak down the side of her face.

Putting the restraints and blindfold on the limb stretcher in the middle of the room, he stood in front of her, placed his palm under her chin and gently lifted her head up. He hated the look of fear and regret in her eyes, and he knew he had to do something to alleviate her distress.

"Stand up, Ms. Boyce."

She sniffled a few times and whimpered quietly, "I can't, Sir. My knees ..."

Shaking his head at his thoughtlessness, he reached down, took her hands and helped her up; she moaned and groaned as she got on her feet.

"Come. Sit," he said, his voice soft and sympathetic, yet authoritative.

He put his arm around her waist and led her to the couch. Sitting beside her, he took her legs and swung them round until her knees were over his thighs; she turned her body to face him, the arm rest against her back. He grimaced at the small, red crevices in her knees then began to tenderly rub at the flesh and bone, watching her facial expressions as he did so. Taking in a sharp breath through her teeth, he kneaded the sides of her knees, and her hand flew to his shoulder, as if telling him it was too much. Taking the hint, he used his palms gently for a few minutes, hoping that was at least take away some of the discomfort.

Looking into her face, she smiled. "It's ... better, Sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Pausing, he asked, "Do you know why you're down here?"

She nodded. "Yes Sir. I was careless, and I ... promise I'll be more careful from now on."

It seemed as if she was about to break down again, but he wouldn't have it. Shaking his head, he said, "No more tears. And yes, you were careless, and I have no doubt you will be more vigilant."

"I will, Sir."

Smiling, he brushed her hair from her face gingerly, letting his fingertips trail down her neck to her shoulder before he took her hands. "You do remember once punishment is given, all is forgotten, and I can trust you've learnt your lesson?"

Wiping an eye with the back of her hand, she said, "Yes Sir, I understand."

"Good. Go get the restraints and blindfold over there." He cocked his head toward where he'd left them.

Obediently, she retrieved the items and brought them back to him, offering them. He placed the blindfold on the couch, took her hand and secured the restraints around her wrists then patted his knee. She put each foot up so he could fasten both restraints on each ankle.

"You still please me, little one. You didn't hesitate."

She tried to smile but couldn't, and he noticed her trepidation. He shook his head, stood and put his hands on her hips. Their eyes locked, and she almost lost all the strength in her legs with his intense scrutiny. He felt her body shake slightly, so he wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand on the back of her head and nudged it until her cheek was against his chest. A part of her wanted to put her arms around him, while another part was afraid to because he hadn't instructed her to do so.

Rocking her back and forth ever so slowly, he asked, "Are you frightened?"

Answering honestly, she replied, "A little, Sir."

"Hmm. Little is good. But do you trust me?"

She paused a moment to think, unable to control her body from shaking. "Yes Sir."

Looking over her face, he asked, "Then why are you still quivering?"

She couldn't think of the correct answer, so she remained silent.

"Ms. Boyce, breathe."

He then took in several deep breaths through his nose and exhaled from his mouth. Finally comprehending, she copied his technique and surprisingly began to relax, if only a little. "Better?"

With one last long, deep sigh, she told him, "Yes Sir."

"Well done." He grabbed the blindfold, gave her a reassuring smile and placed it over her eyes. "Can you see anything?" She moved her head in several directions then shook her head. "Brilliant. Stay as you are."

"Yes Sir."

He quickly and as quietly as he could retrieved the bag of toys at the top of the stairs then set everything out on a couch cushion. Taking the plastic shower liner and a blanket, he placed them on the wooden platform of the stretcher, as well as a throw pillow from the couch to rest her head on.

Facing Gayle, he said, "I am going to give you specific instructions, and you need to follow them exactly to the letter so you don't hurt yourself."

She nodded. "I understand, Sir."

Taking her hand, he took the lead so she wouldn't stub her toe on the corner wooden legs of the stretcher and stepped aside a foot. "Alright, step up with both feet, one at a time."

She did so, then he told her to turn around, keeping a hold of her hand. Taking both, he said, "Sit down, but I'll hold your hands for support. I've got you."

Tentatively nodding, she leaned back until she sat on the platform.

"Now lean back. There's a pillow for your head." Once she did, she had to scoot down a little per his instructions. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes Sir."

Smiling at her beautiful body, he knelt beside her and ran a hand over her shoulder to her breastbone, trailing the nail of his pinkie finger between her breasts. Her breathing became shallow as he went further south to the inside of her thigh, moving his fingers in circles then a figure eight. He loved the responsiveness of her body, how every touch would send her into pleasurable spasms.

Securing the rings from the chains on the stretcher to each restraint, she was exactly how he wanted her: Her arms up over her head, her legs bent and knees wide, exposing her sex.

He then pulled out two foam ear plugs from his jeans pocket. Rolling one between his fingers to thin it out, he said, "I'm putting ear plugs in your ears then headphones. Remember, you may not use your safe word, but if you find yourself too overwhelmed, you may use red. It will not stop the punishment, but I will give you a moment to collect yourself."

"Yes Sir."

"Also, you are not permitted to come. No matter how much you beg, plead or cry, youwill not come."

"No Sir. I doubt I will," she replied, her voice quaking a little.

Oh, yes you will, little one, and often.

"If, however, you find yourself getting close orgasm, you must tell me. If I allow it, I will touch your shoulder, like this." He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodding her understanding. "Good girl. One more thing: When I slap your hip like this ..." He did it once, though not hard. "...You will tell me how close you are to coming on a scale from one to ten. Understand?" She nodded again. "Now, repeat the rules I've just given you."

She said them correctly, and he gave her a quick, soft kiss. "Now, I'm going to insert the ear plugs, but it won't hurt." Once they were both in, he waited a moment to let them expand. He then asked, in a voice akin to a funeral parlor, "Ms. Boyce, can you hear me?"

She turned her head in his direction. "Yes Sir, a little, but you're very muffled."

After turning on the headphones and making it very loud, he put it over her ears. This time whispering softly, he asked if she could hear him. She didn't reply, so he was satisfied she couldn't hear a thing.

As Gayle lay on the stretcher, her thoughts raced frantically. She was completely defenseless, extremely apprehensive and still frightened. But yes, she did trust him. Taking several more deep breaths, she flexed her hands to loosen them up, forced the tension from her shoulders and finally relaxed.

"That's my lass," he said aloud to himself, pleased she was making an effort.

He took a few items then sat down beside her on the wooden plank of the stretcher and proceeded to lightly graze the feather tip around her breasts, purposely not touching her nipples. She kept her lips terse as he teasingly drew the feather between her breasts to her stomach, drawing out goose flesh as a high-pitched moan escaped from her lips before he skirted it up her waist.

Grinning wickedly, he flicked the tip over her crotch from the inside of her thighs to her calves then the bottoms of her feet. As soon as it touched the center of her soles, she jumped, locked her legs straight and gripped the chain tightly.

"Shhhttt ... NO! You know I'm ... AAAHH!! Ticklish!"

Hamish didn't let up, regardless of Gayle's screaming in agony. In fact, he loved seeing such an intense reaction from her.

Dragging it up to her neck, he used a heavier touch with the feather to make sure she could feel it, and when she tilted her head for more he traced it up her chin to her nose. She chuckled and wrinkled her nose, but of course she couldn't do anything about getting rid of the annoying itching.

Switching instruments, he placed the Wartenburg Wheel - a fairly small, round and somewhat sharp multi-pronged wheeled device - on the top of her foot, slowly taunting her and loving every minute of it. Her perfect round breasts rose and fell as her breath became heavier, her mouth hung open, and her forehead furrowed with lines as she tried to figure out what he was using on her. It didn't matter to her, though. Every one of her nerve endings were fired up to the extreme, sending electrical pulses through her entire body, especially when he scraped it over her stiff nipple, pressing it harder and harder as the indentation caused nub to throb and expand. She murmured and sighed heavily, a small smile planted on her lips.

Not quite done with the feather, he ran it slowly up and down the inside of her arm, and got the most reaction from her when he grazed it on a spot below her armpit and the base of her breast. She groaned loudly and pulled away, but he was ready for that; he kept the quills on her flesh and brushed it in a tight circle before making it bigger and bigger until she begged him to stop.

"Fucking lovely," he murmured as he ran it one last time over both nipples just to goad her.

Wanting to kick it up a notch, he picked up the paddle - one side fur and the other rubber - and caressed her shoulders and arms with the thick fur side.

"Hmm, that feels good," she shouted, not realizing how loud her voice was.

He chuckled and brought it down over her stomach to her hips and the inside of her thighs. Her body was completely loose and relaxed, but he didn't want her to be. Flipping the paddle over to the rubber side, he smacked the inside of her thigh, which made her squeal as she grabbed onto the chain. He slapped the flesh between her ass cheek and thigh, then the other, again and again.

Trying to wriggle away, unsuccessfully, she called out, "Hmmhmm, nooo ... Sir! Too hard. Too haaarrrr!"

He slapped her again, though with much less impact, just to remind her that if it was too much, she was to call out the safety color. He knew it was enough, so he looked to see if her skin was pink, and it was just slightly shaded.

Grinning when he saw her pussy moist and glistening, he commented, "So, you're getting there, my little fawn."

Reaching inside the cup on the floor beside him, he took an ice cube and let a few droplets fall onto her nipples. She gasped as the cold water dribbled over her bulbous mounds to her sides. Then he put the cube directly on her nipple and made a circle around it; she whimpered and quivered as she tried to move away from the assault.

He placed the cube in his mouth then attacked her nipple, making her yelp as she tried to catch her breath, but he didn't let up. He suckled and slid the ice around her areola until he could feel it burst into multiple tiny lumps. With his other hand he pinched her nipple, which was just as hard as the one between his lips.

Bringing his hand down to her crotch, he cupped her pussy, letting his middle finger slide from outside her labia to her drenched opening. Watching her face, he gathered her juices and slid his finger slowly up to her stiff, engorged clit and circled the nub with pressure. She raised her hips for more.

"Hmmphgh ... don' stop, Sir," she murmured breathlessly.

Abruptly, he removed his finger and pulled his head back, smirking when he saw her chest broken out in a bright red rash, the sides of her neck just as red and discolored.

"Damnit!" Gayle screamed, finally bringing her hips back down.

"Tsk, tsk," Hamish sighed. "So unladylike of you, lass."

Leaning forward, he brushed his cold lips against hers, and she lifted her head, kissing him back enthusiastically. She moaned under her breath, which she was quickly losing, as his tongue fervently went on an expedition to find her own. The tips of their tongues danced together until he drew his head back. Tenderly yet firmly, he grabbed the side of her face, his fingertips gently scrubbing her neck, his thumb lovingly brushing against her cheek.

She turned her head toward him, a small smile forming on her lips. "Sir, that kiss was hawt," she whispered, though her words were faintly slurred.

He kissed her nose then pulled back, grabbing the candle and - not wanting the scent of sulfur from a match to give away his next move - a lighter he had ready at his feet. Standing, he lit the wick, held the candle vertically about thirty inches above her body and tipped it, allowing several drops to fall onto her stomach.

"Hooooly OW! OW! Fuuck!" she cried out and squirmed, taking a sharp breath between her teeth. "WHAT THE ..."

Gripping the chains with all of her might, they clanged angrily as her arms and legs struggled against the restraints, her breasts swaying back and forth as she tried to shake the wax off of her. Not relenting to her protests, he let more drops fall on her stomach, making sure they weren't in any particular pattern so each would be unpredictable. Now her breathing was heavy and shallow, and a constant growl came from the back of her throat.

This time he tilted the candle over her left breast and let a single drop fall on it, staying away from her nipple on purpose; he didn't want to overwhelm her too much. She sighed heavily and again when a few drops descended on her other breast.

"Hmmphggh, shiiiit," she gurgled. "Ohmygodohmygod."

After a few more droplets fell between her breasts, which cascaded up her collarbone and over the crook of her neck, he tapped her hip. Struggling to talk, she said, "Nine, Sir! NINE!"