Pillar Ch. 07

Ruth arrived at Tom's apartment, the door was open. She rung the bell and heard his voice call out for her to come in. She opened the door and at once she spotted the outfit meant for her. She saw black stockings, matching strappy heels and shorty lace panties with one of his tight dress shirts to go along with it. She ran her hands over the clothes, wondering what he had in mind for her.

"You're still not dressed?"

Startled, she turned around to see Tom, drying his hands.

"I'm sure I waited a couple of minutes and here you are, still not wearing the clothes I picked for you tonight. I was sure that the message was clear."

"Oh, it was clear, Sir."

He regarded her with slight annoyance.

"If you understood, then why haven't you changed by now? This is your uniform for tonight. And since you seem to be struggling with putting on clothes, I'll let you leave the top three buttons of the shirt open."

He headed back for the kitchen, shaking his head. She hastily undressed, remembering to neatly fold everything. The shoes and stockings fit her nicely and as she slipped on the panties they did wonders highlighting her shapely ass. Her nipples stiffened, standing in the middle of his hallway, wearing nothing more than stockings and sexy panties. She shivered, slipped on the shirt and quickly buttoned up the few buttons she was allowed to.

"Sir, I'm dressed now."

He turned around and roamed her exposed form with eyes. She didn't know what to do with her hands and nervously wringed the shirt between her hands. She was never going to get used to being watched like this. He stepped up to her and took one shoulder in his hand, he pulled it back a little and adjusted her back.

"Stop fiddling with your hands, keep your arms relaxed by your sides when you're not using them. Relax your shoulders and back, spread your feet a little. Tilt your hips a little more, yes like that. Good. You should've remembered this."

He took a couple steps back, reappraising her. He seemed content, for now.

"Now take a chair and put it in the center of the room. Over there is fine."

She felt his eyes on her again as she was walking around the room.

"Now, I am going to give you a choice. Your entrance, posture and movements tonight have been lacking. I expect a lot from you and if you give me less than your best, I have to discipline you. I'm giving you a choice. Either take five lashes from the crop and have dinner with me standing up. Or you might prefer to take only three and have dinner sitting down."

She looked down at her heels, a little afraid of what was to come.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Go ahead, little girl."

"Is it necessary to use the crop? Could you not use your hand like last time?"

"No, not this time. Pleasure will be for later this evening, for now I want to deal with this quickly. Now, your choice?"

Biting her lip, she remained indecisive.

"Ruth, I expect you to answer me promptly when I ask you a simple question, this is not the time to test my patience. Your choice, now."

"Three strikes, Sir."

She had spoken softly, but clear enough. Tom nodded and mentioned towards his bedroom.

"The crop is in the smaller chest underneath my bed. Bring it to me."

Every step closer to the master bedroom seemed to stir up more and more feelings inside of her. She felt fear and apprehension but also curiosity. And god she was excited, she could feel a thin sheen of perspiration cooling her skin. She felt the building heat between her legs, a wave of desire hit her when she grabbed the crop in her small hand.

It was slick, black and menacing. She bit her lip again and closed her eyes, trying to keep from imagining what it would feel like. He had tapped her with it during training, but he had never hurt her with it. A shiver ran across her spine. On her way back, her eyes were pointed downwards, she didn't dare look up. She presented Tom with the crop and he took it from her hands.

"Look me in the eye."

She didn't respond immediately and he slapped the leather flap against her cheek before pushing her chin up with the crop.

"Keep your eyes on mine. Be very careful about what you do and say now. I already have to add two strikes because you hesitated, don't force me to make this any longer than it needs to be."

"Yes, Sir."

He slipped the crop down along her throat, between her breasts, circling them before brushing the slick leather across her nipples. All the while Ruth's full attention was focused on his eyes. She failed to notice her body's response until he slipped the crop inside her panties and dipped it in her pussy, she gasped at the sensation. He pulled back and as he traced her nipple, she could feel her own moistness cool on her stiffening nub.

"I think you're ready. Kiss the crop."

Ruth placed a small kiss on the instrument that was about to discipline her tight little butt. It made her surrender that much more apparent.

"Bend over the chair, little girl. Place your feet besides it and grab the back. Push your ass back."

She complied and he pulled her panties down with one hand while he crouched beside her. He whispered in her ear

"I'm going to discipline you now. It will hurt some but I know that you need this to maintain the course I have set for you. What do you do after every strike, little girl?"

In a quivering, fragile voice Ruth answered

"Your servant should count and thank you, Sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because she trusts that everything you do is for her benefit and she should be thankful for such care, Sir."

"That's right, very good."

He petted her hair and then stood up, trailing his crop over her back as he walked around her. He continued his trail along the cleft between her cheeks and then rubbed her soaking pussy. He laid the crop on her back and warned her

"Don't make it fall."

He slipped two fingers inside of her, probing for her sensitive spots, feeding her anticipation. He stroked her clit with his thumb and she jerked, the crop wobbled on the small of her back but it didn't fall. Her pussy had clenched on his hand in apprehension, and relaxed again when it didn't fall.

"Close your eyes, little girl, I'm going to start."

Her breathing sped up, she hadn't heard him move, what side was he going to strike from? How much would it hurt? The tip of the crop sliding over her cheek distracted her from her thoughts. The soft touch drew all her attention to her ass, she knew the slightest tap would make her jump. Suddenly he kept the crop still and pressed its length against her. Was he going to strike there? No, he moved away again. Ruth was squirming now and froze when the first strike landed. She felt a hot streak on her skin and jerked up

"One, thank you Sir."

Tom soothed the intensity of the sensation by gently rubbing her cheeks. The second strike came almost as soon as he removed his hand. Surprised, she jerked again. A new stripe of fire was added to her tender ass.

"Two, thank you Sir."

This time Tom played with her pussy, the stinging slowly faded, leaving behind a hot feeling. Her labored breathing wasn't because of fear. She was hot as hell, pushing her ass even further back. Trying to get more of his fingers inside of her. Tom pulled back and in a fluid movement he landed the third strike on the eager ass in front of him. Ruth closed her eyes and moaned, squirming more and more as the pain faded away.

"Three, thank you Sir"

"I can see that you're thankful, I hope you still remember what you're supposed to be thankful for."

The last two strikes had no break in between them and she had to fight back a shriek. She clenched her hands on the back of the chair and waited for the pain to subside into delicious heat. Tom massaged her sore cheeks and she gradually felt the sting of the crop fade.

"Now, get dressed and we'll have dinner, free time as well."

Dinner was delicious, a simple stew with home-made fries and a fresh salad. That's how Tom liked things, simple but good. Their conversation over dinner was fun, talking about current events and wandering off on tangents that were more fantastic and infinitely more fun. Their desire for fantasy, creative thinking and being serious about things that were non-existent was one of the things that had attracted them to each other in the first place and that had never gone.

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes whenever he saw her wince because of her tender bottom. He enjoyed watching her slender form in his own shirt, her toned legs sheathed in black silk. This was truly a wonderful creature, his for the taking. He smiled inwardly when he thought about what he had planned for her. She picked up on it and asked

"What are you smiling about, Tom? Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Oh, I will tell you in time. Don't be nosy, little girl."

She didn't answer, on edge because he had used her pet name. Throughout dinner he'd called her Ruth, not little girl. She quivered.

"First I'd like you to clear the dishes in the dishwasher and wash the glasses. Undress when you're finished and wait for me, I have some preparations to finish."

She opened her mouth to ask him something but he shot her a quick glance. Don't ask, do what you're told. Now. And so she did.

He found her kneeling to the right of his usual seat, naked with her clothes neatly folded on the kitchen table. He smiled, she was doing so well already. She deserved to be rewarded.

"Come here kitten. Tonight you're not going to be yourself. Do you recall the little story I wrote for you?"

She nodded mutely. How many times had she been reading '1001 Arabian nights' and paused to wonder and fantasize? What would it be like to serve a sultan, to be bred to please? What would it be like to be coveted as a luxurious possession? What would it be like to feel that almost magic attraction described in so many of the stories, a desire that made those involved powerless to resist?

It took her some time to notice his clothes. He was wearing loose pants, comfortable slippers and a wide waist band that held a curved dagger in a functional hilt. His bare, muscular chest and easy stance reminded her of the fact that he was a martial artist. It showed now. He was the very image of a Persian warrior, a man confident in his abilities and with no need to impress. He was patient with her, allowing her to let her mind digress into fantasy.

"Come inside, Aysa."

She stepped into the playroom. The last time she had set foot in this room she had barely noticed her surroundings. But she remembered it being very functional and clean. Now it was unrecognizable. Silk cushions were scattered around the room, the floor was covered with a colorful, soft rug. A low table was set in a corner and held an elegantly crafted tea pot.

If you had told someone that entered this room for the first time that it was a tent he would have seriously considered it. Large sheets of brightly colored fabric spanned the ceiling and the walls, creating the impression of a pavilion. Lanterns shone an intimate light into the room, illuminating the crinkles of smoke that rose from incense burners. The whole space radiated the atmosphere that she had so many times conjured in her mind, sophisticated but still simple in its essence. A nomad might be rich beyond description, he still lived his life in a tent. It fit as the abode of a distinguished Persian military commander in a time long passed.

"Aysa, this is your new home. You will serve me in this pavilion. But first you need something to cover yourself."

He held out a sheer silk costume to her, it was made from several pieces of silk that had to be wrapped around her shoulders and her middle. She put it on and felt the soft layers whisper against her skin. Every move she made, no matter how minute, the fabric would shift around her. For all the material it was made of, she might as well have been naked.

The color matched the green of her eyes, this went beyond mere lingerie, it highlighted every aspect of her body. He led her to a mirror in a corner that she hadn't noticed yet, so she could see herself. She gasped. There she was, a fragile beauty shrouded in an enticing cloud of green.

In some places the green was darker, in others the layers were only thick enough to provide a sheen of color. Her eyes shone brightly as the copper in her hair gleamed in the warm light. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, unbelieving what her eyes had witnessed. This was her? Was this what she had fantasized about? Yes, it was. She kneeled and looked up at Tom.

"Thank you Shah, thank you for accepting such a one as me. I hope that your servant will please you."

He smiled, stroking her hair.

"You most certainly please me. It would seem that my choice of dress suits you very well. You've never shown yourself like this to any man?"

"No, Shah."

"Nor any djinn?"

"No, Shah."

He moved closer to her, running his hands along her jawline.

"You are a virgin then, Aysa?"

"I am, Shah."

He smiled and lied down on the cushions, gesturing her to join him. He leaned over her on one arm and explored her body with his free hand, savoring the contrast between the diaphanous silk and the warm satin of her skin. A low groan escaped him as he ran his hands up her stomach, sliding across her skin until he cupped her breasts in both his hands. She sighed and relaxed against him.

"And how come a beautiful djinnayah such as yourself has never found a suitable djinn?"

He rolled her nipples between his fingers at just that moment. Heat started stirring inside of her, sinking her into her role.

"Djinn are vain and fickle brutes. They care not for all their riches but when another dares to touch them they swear blood and vengeance. They dally in their games with humans, even if they know that they are forbidden from harming them. I have seen enough to realize the emptiness of such an existence. I have seen the struggles humans must go through, I have seen how it makes them appreciate what is within their reach.

History is rife with stories of djinn seeking to possess what comes natural to humans. The only way I see to fulfill my desires is to live as a human, to discover all facets of mortal life. Hardship and riches. Pleasure and toil. I wished to serve someone who has no power but himself to fall back on, someone who will know the worth of a thing because he has survived attempts at taking everything away from him. Someone like you, Shah."

His hands were still now. He hadn't realized how old her fantasy was, how deeply it resonated within her. He felt unsure of himself, of how he should respond to her. And yet it intrigued him, it was very like her to have this kind of sophistication even in a mere fantasy.

When decorating this room and choosing her uniform he had enjoyed the aesthetics of it. He had researched the tradition, the stories that intrigued her. He had decided to indulge it to the best of his abilities. And now he wanted to explore as well, he wanted to see what this world full of mystery had to offer.

"Tell me then Aysa, what are you now?"

"Your servant, Shah."

"I did not ask who you were."

"I don't understand, Shah."

"Are you still a djinnayah?"

"Yes, Shah."

"Are you truly? I have sealed that part of you. To access it you need to break that connection between us. So, I ask you again. What are you now?"

"A woman, Shah."

"Nothing more, nothing less. Whether you are human or not no longer matters. Live as a human and you will be one."

He ran his hand through her reddish locks and bent down to kiss her, only grazing her lips with his. She tried to turn her head so she could feel his lips on hers but he wouldn't allow it. Her hands reached for his head, trying to pull him closer, yearning for a real kiss. He pulled back and smiled when he saw her flushed cheeks.

"I will show you a bit of my world, I'm sure you will enjoy it. Lie down on your back on the rug, relax yourself and close your eyes. You are not to open them until I tell you to."

The rug felt pleasant and soft beneath her, she ran her fingers through its tassels as she waited. The sudden touch of something fresh on her lips startled her. She opened her mouth and he ran it across her lips. She tasted sweet watermelon juice as she chased the piece with her tongue.

"Take a bite and savor it, concentrate on tasting and feeling the morsel in your mouth. After you've explored it with your tongue and your taste buds, chew it very slowly. Let the taste explode inside your mouth."

She did as she was told and was amazed at how different this tiny piece of watermelon was from all the others she'd had so far. No, it was the same but she was just eating it differently. There was a lot to discover, she tasted the sweetness of it, the fruity flavor in the juice, the slightly tangy taste of the green flesh underneath the peel.

She was rudely distracted from her exploration by the feel of cold pressed against her nipple, it immediately stiffened allowing warm lips to embrace it and a warm tongue to caress it through the thin layer of silk. The silk rubbing against her stiff nipple was a new sensation for her.

Expecting him to nip her nipple with his teeth, she was surprised when a drop of rose water was dripped on her upper lip instead, she slowly licked it up with her tongue. The scent filled her nose and mouth, the intensity of it was almost too much. Then his lips were on hers, sharing the taste of roses with her.

The sound of breaking glass startled her, tearing her away from the kiss. Smooth sitar tunes wiped the harshness of the sound from her memory. Tom's hand ran across her inner thigh, edging ever closer to her wet pussy lips. A hair brush slowly raked across her swollen lips, every tip leaving a hot trail in itswake. It would have hurt and felt unpleasant if he had done it even a little bit faster, but now it was a strange and new experience. He moved away from her, letting her stew for a bit.

The next thing she felt was the hint of stubble on his jaw dragging along her sensitive inner thighs. The prickly sensation heightened her anticipation of what was to come and she pushed her hips up. He blew a soft breath on her soaking wet pussy, the subtle coolness made her shiver. Finally he ran his tongue over her, his body heat erasing the coolness of before.

He didn't linger, replacing his tongue with something she couldn't place. It felt like a small hollow tube, as he ran it over her lips the heat drawn out by his teasing multiplied to a flaming heat. As he rounded his trip over her pussy, everywhere he touched with the thing was tingling and. Something was held under her nose, it smelled like chili! Oh god, the bastard.

He blew on her lips again and his cooling breath felt different now, a balm on her smoldering folds. He twirled the tip of his tongue around her clit, arousing her. She felt her need burning and squirmed, trying to push her pussy in his face. But he pulled back, giving her no relief. She wanted to look, wanted to know what was coming next. She gasped at the sudden icy cold she felt against her lips. He trailed her pussy lips with an ice cube and followed it with his tongue before pulling back again.

The taste of lime burst into her mouth when he fed her a near frozen slice of lime and kissed her deeply, sharing the cool acidity with her. He pulled back and waited for his touch to return but was tricked again instead. A small dribble ran across her lips into her mouth. The hot taste of brandy spread on her tongue and she licked her lips slowly, sensuously, trying to make this even the slightest bit more difficult for him.

"You can open your eyes now, Aysa."

She looked up at him in wonder, with her senses still a little jumbled she didn't notice in time that he had lined up his cock with her wet pussy. He drove inside of her, making her head fall back. The heat of his cock deep inside of her was incomparable to the fire of the chili, it radiated deep within her.