tagNovels and NovellasSaving Caitlin Ch. 03

Saving Caitlin Ch. 03


Thanks to everyone who read Parts I and II. I especially want to thank those who voted and those taking time to leave a comment. I hope you enjoy this part—it's a fun one. Maddie


Part III

Working on the House

For a couple of weeks while Jon was at work, Catie worked at the house. She cleaned cabinets and floors and painted the each room. Jon would drop her off every morning and return in the evening to pick her up. Sometimes they would go out to eat. Sometimes he took a change of clothes and would work with her for a few hours. A few times, he just took her back to the apartment because she was so tired.

They bought a small camper size refrigerator so she would have a place to put drinks and food for lunches, and Jon gave her his cell phone so she could call if there was an emergency.

Jon commissioned workers from a store called the House Doctor to build custom bookcases and install a bay window in his home office. He also had them change the basement stairway door so it opened from behind one of the bookcases. The bookcase could swing out to reveal the hidden door behind. The only days Jon didn't let Catie work at the house were the days when the workers were there. He knew the dangers of being alone with strangers.

By mid-morning one Saturday, Catie's clothes were so covered with paint, Jon made her strip before painting the rest of the room. An hour later, she was covered with paint. He had spanked her gorgeous ass until it turned a luscious red, so it would match the paint she had all over her, he said. He then turned her and bent her over the make-shift table where he fucked her hard from behind. She was still whimpering, but came so hard around his cock, he followed her over the peak. His hands were flat on the table on each side of her shoulders and after a few moments, he pulled out of her and sat down, pulling her down on his lap. "Think you can get the paint on walls instead of you now?" he asked and she answered, "I'll try, sir." He had laughed and she started giggling as he gave her his shirt to wear.

That afternoon, they ate take-out he had delivered. Later, he backed her up against the wall and curled her fingers around the scrolled shelf bracket he had installed a few days before.

"Leave them there."

He kissed her hungrily, almost as if he hadn't had her for a month instead of only an hour ago. His eyes never left hers as he unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing—his shirt. She had rolled the sleeves up several times. It was the only thing she was wearing and it came nearly to her knees. When he had it open, he pushed it to the sides of her lovely body, exposing her rounded breasts and everything else. He placed his fingertips on her shoulders, lightly pressing his nails into her skin and pulled then slowly down to her breasts, leaving thin white lines that would fade before he was done. A nail on each hand scraped a hardened, aroused nipple. He teased her nipples over and over again, pulling and pinching them as she moaned. He bent his head and licked each hard point as his both of his hands traveled to her stomach.

He had her in this same position earlier when he spanked her, but then she had been facing the wall.

"I want to taste you. You're my dessert," he murmured. His fingertips traveled down her from stomach to her thighs as he crouched. One hand went between her legs and moved to the left, taking her leg with it. As his hand moved higher on the wall, her leg went up, too. She was now open and vulnerable. He leaned forward and closed his mouth over her sweet pussy.

She cried out and leaned fully against the wall. Her fingers tightened around the bracket.

"You like that, don't you? You like to be fully exposed to me. You like what I do to you, how I make you feel."

He bent his head again and thrust his tongue deep. He swept the roughened tip up to her clit, teasing it again and again. She moaned and sagged a little as she arched her pelvis.

"You want more, slave? Ask for it," he murmured.

"Please, master," she cried out. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed.

"Please what, slave? Tell me what you want."

He teased her clitoris again, but not enough for her to climax.

"Please, master."

He hadn't got her to the place where she could ask him for what she wanted. He would someday, he vowed. He gave her what she could not ask for. He rammed two fingers into her and covered her clit with his mouth, sucking forcefully as his teeth scraped over her swollen nub. She cried out again and came.

"Let go. Let your hands go," he demanded.

She slid down the wall into his waiting arms.


By the time of the closing, the house was move-in ready. The furniture had been delivered—Jon had vetoed only a few of Catie's choices. The door and window changes and the bookcases turned out just the way he had envisioned. He installed a secret lock for the hidden door to the basement and a release on the other side.

A couple of times, Jon felt he and Catie were like any other newly married couple. He almost felt like a husband. Then he would shake the feeling off. This was a year agreement. He wasn't looking for a wife. This was a short-term Master/slave relationship. She'd be gone in eleven months and he would be left with a nice home.

And no Catie.

No Catie.

He shook off the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.


Several nights a week for two months after they moved in, Jon worked for an hour or two in the playroom.

The basement playroom was semi-dark in keeping with the atmosphere of a dungeon. He put fake stone on the walls after installing soundproofing. He left the ceiling beams exposed, but put sound-reducing tiles over the soundproofing material between the beams. He knew he really didn't need the soundproofing. He would never do anything that would cause Catie to scream loud enough that someone upstairs would be disturbed, let alone a neighbor a quarter of a mile away, but it seemed the thing to do. He painted the ceiling between the beams battleship gray and the floor black. Against one wall was the antique cabinet he had purchased for the play toys that wouldn't go upstairs in the bedroom armoire and the new ones he acquired these last two months—the Internet was such a wonderful source for adult paraphernalia. There was a padded table, a sawhorse-like thing, a bar, and other items. On one wall, he placed an A-frame equipped with attached rings and straps. The camp fridge he had gotten for Catie to use before the appliances were delivered found a new home in the playroom.

He surveyed the room when he was done. With somewhat startled shock, he realized this room would truly be a 'play' room...not a dungeon to be used for punishment or pain. Any play done in this room would be just that...play. He knew without a doubt that he could never hurt Caitlin in any way. Their roles as Master and slave would be that of sexual submission rather than a true 24/7 slave. He knew he would broaden her sexual experience, but wondered if he would, or even could, dominate her as he had outlined in the contract.

November Pictures

"I don't want you to say your safe word, Caitlin, unless it's absolutely necessary because you won't be tied this tight for long."

"I understand, sir."

"It may be uncomfortable for a few minutes, but I don't think it'll take me longer than ten or fifteen minutes to get what I want."

She had no idea what he wanted. He hadn't shared that. He was busy for a while, taking things outside such as a blanket, some rope, and a fan. Why in the world did he want a fan? It was the middle of November and, although they were having a stretch of Indian summer, the air was cool. She watched him for a couple of days, noticing that he seemed to be waiting for something, watching for something. He'd go outside, look around, check his watch, then have her come out and sit in this spot or that.

Before, she had no idea what he was doing.

But she knew now; he was going to take her picture.



Tied up.

He had her sit on the blanket and fiddled with the tripod, angling the camera just so. Then he had her sit on the table while he tied her arms tightly behind her. He started with her upper arms and pulled them behind her. When her elbows touched, she moaned softly and arched her back to take the pressure off her shoulders.

"Yes, that's what I want, Catie. I want you to have to arch just that way. I want those beautiful breasts to obtrude just that way."

He pulled the rope just a little tighter and she winced.

"Just for a little bit, Caitlin. You can take it, baby." But he ran his hands over her shoulders to make sure the tension wasn't dangerously tight.

He looped the rope with an intricate, artistic flare. Cate's newly lightened and highlighted hair flowed in natural waves down her back. When he was finished, he helped her off the table and led her to the blanket. He kissed her deeply and toyed with her right breast, teasing the nipple until it peaked in his hand. He whispered all the things he wanted to do to her as his hand caressed its way down to the valley between her thighs. She automatically spread her legs to welcome his touch. She was already wet. He wanted her flushed; he wanted her to look fuckable.

"Kneel, Caitlin," he whispered as he brought his hands up to circle her ribcage and help her down. He spread her legs more and moved her head just the way he wanted. He nibbled on her neck and again whispered in her ear. He put his hand on her back and arched it a bit more.

"Almost done, baby, then I'll give you what you want."

He got up and moved behind the camera before returning to change the angle of her head slightly while pushing most of her hair over her left shoulder. The little wisps that still hung down would blow when he turned on the fan.

It was chilly and she shivered. He rubbed her arms and nuzzled her neck again. He got up quickly, made a small adjustment to the camera, and turned on the fan, taking four pictures with just slightly different angles or settings. He took the camera off the tripod and took four more pictures. For the last two photos, he pulled her hair off her shoulder and let it cascade down her back. He took one picture with her head thrown back and her hands on the blanket. The ropes were barely visible through her windswept hair. Her nipples were tight and distended. He turned off the fan, toyed again with her breasts as he kissed her roughly, then backed up and took one last picture just from her shoulders up as she looked directly into the camera.

He laid down the camera and unzipped his pants at the same time. In two strides, he was by her side. He covered her mouth with his as he pulled her up.

"Wrap your legs around me, Caitlin."

With a strength that made her shudder, he lifted her just a bit higher and pressed her down on his erection. She moaned and tightened her legs around him. He had his hands around her and pulled her arms a little so she arched more, offering her breasts up for him to feast. His lips covered one breast and sucked strongly. It was almost as if he hadn't had a meal in months. She cried out as he suckled and the electricity shot straight to her pussy.

His hands tangled around her still bound arms. He whispered not to be afraid, he wouldn't let her fall. Her fear melted away as he excited and aroused her. As her breathing became labored, she leaned her head back as he continued to suckle almost roughly at her breasts. It didn't take him long to push her to the edge, but not quite over.

"Please, master, please."

"Not yet, Caitlin."

He pulled her hair, making her arch even more. He moved his hands to her hips and thrust hard.

"Now, Caitlin, now come for me."

He held her firmly and thrust once more. Every muscle tightened and she screamed softly. Her muscle contractions pulled him deeper and he spent deep inside her. She went limp and her legs started to slide down. Jon moved his hands to her thighs to hold her up. He stood still a moment longer, then walked to the bench and carefully sat down with her still impaled on him. He pulled her to his chest, reached around her, and started untying the ropes. She had trusted him not to drop her; what a difference a couple of months made.

The Blindfold

Her eyes darted to the red satin sleep mask.

"I know it's unreasonable—"

"Caitlin, it's been more than three months since we agreed I'd wait a month. You know I'm not going to hurt you in any way. You know that."

"Yes," but the word was spoken hesitantly.

Jon watched her eyes dart again to the mask. He knew it brought back memories of her time with Carl. She had come so far since that night when he first saw her tied up and nude in that bastard's house. He wanted her to conquer and get past her fear of blindfolds, which Carl had used to terrify her.

"I'll tell you what, we won't go downstairs. We'll play in our bedroom."


"Silence. It's time to get past this fear, Caitlin. Go to the bedroom, undress, and put on the cuffs that are on the bed. I will be there in a minute to help you." His voice brooked no disobedience.

Caitlin's lip quivered and there was a slight hesitation, but she got up and headed for the bedroom. It was the first time since the first couple of weeks that she had not obeyed him immediately. Jon had tried on two different occasions to get her past this blindfold phobia, but he had relented each time when she became so distressed. He made up his mind that tonight he wouldn't stop. He knew, without a doubt, that once he got the mask on her, she'd be okay.

He picked up the mask and walked to the bedroom. Caitlin had removed her clothing, but had not yet put on the ankle and wrist cuffs. Jon didn't go to her immediately, but took the matches off the dresser and lit the candles placed around the room. When he turned to her, he put his finger under her chin, lifted her face, and brushed his lips against hers. He put his hands on her waist and backed her up to the bed. He gently nudged her down, picked up a cuff and buckled it around her wrist. When he had all four cuffs on, he had her stand in front of the mirror. He hooked her wrist cuffs together behind her back.

"You are beautiful, my lovely little slave. I want you to take five deep breaths," he whispered in her ear as he stood behind her with his hands on her hips.

He caressed her hips and arms before bringing his hands around her to knead her breasts. He fondled her and pinched her nipples, all the while telling her how beautiful she was and that he would not hurt her. Then he picked up the mask and gently, but quickly slid it over her eyes.

Caitlin's breath caught in her throat and she started to whimper.

"Shh. You're not hurt. Trust me." Jon cupped her breasts again and, as he played with them, he whispered in her ear, calming her.

"Stand here. Do not move, slave," he said softy but firmly a few minutes later when she had calmed somewhat.

Jon quickly pulled the comforter down and spread a flannel-backed vinyl cloth on the bed, flannel side up. He moved in front of Caitlin, unhooked her hands and brought them together in front of her body, and reattached the clip. She inhaled, but before she could utter a word, he kissed her breathless and reminded her she had not been given permission to speak.

He lifted her into his arms and put her gently on the bed. Pulling her arms above her head, he attached the cuff clip to the hidden hook on the headboard. She had been restrained on this bed many times, but tonight he wanted the freedom to turn her over without untying her hands if he felt the need. He did restrain her ankles to the corner posts.

Caitlin felt Jon sit down on the bed beside her. His hands moved over her body, caressing and kneading. She tried to forget the mask and pretend that her eyes were just closed because they were closed. By degrees, she relaxed under his gentle touch.

"Stay right here, my pet. I'll be back in a minute or two. There are a few things I need to get."

Jon left the room smiling and hurried to get the items he wanted. He returned quickly, took off his shoes, socks, and shirt, and sat on the bed beside her again. He put a small bowl of ice chips on the nightstand, took the feather he gotten from his dresser and ran it up her side, across her chest, and back down the other side. Catie caught her breath.

"You see, my delicious slave, what the mask does? You can't anticipate what I'm going to do. All your focus will be on what you feel, not on what you see."

Jon continued to tease her with the feather, touching her cheek, nipples, and stomach.

"What is it, pet? What is touching you?"

"A feather, master," she replied tentatively.

"Tell me how it feels," he chuckled as he continued to brush her body with it.

"Soft. It kind of tickles, but not quite," she whispered breathlessly as Jon pulled the feather up the inside of her thigh and between her already wet vulva.

Jon chuckled as he picked up a crop and lightly tapped her nipple.

"And this, love?"

"A paddle?"

"It's a crop, love, a riding crop."

He ran the edge between her legs, applying a little pressure on her clitoris. She gasped and arched her back when he started to tap it almost tenderly. He teased her for a while before picking up a soft leather whip. He pulled it over her body, giving her soft little flicks, then laid it aside. He picked up a piece of ice and held it to her nipple.

"And this, love?"

"Ice!" she shrieked.

"And how does the ice feel, pet?"

"Cold!" she cried out trying to move away from his hand.

"Perhaps I need to warm you up, love," he laughed, and bent his head down to take the cooled nipple into his mouth. He sucked until it warmed and hardened in his mouth. He alternated ice and his mouth on each nipple several times, then moved down her body, licking the melted ice he had dribbled on her. She wiggled and tried to move away, but he just chuckled. He took his time at her navel, thrusting his tongue in and out. In the back of his mind, he thought a piercing would be nice right there with her birthstone dangling from a chain.

He picked up the crop again, tapped her nipples a bit harder, put ice on them, and drew each in his mouth again. Lightly, almost teasingly, he had avoided her cunt, but he had no trouble reading her body. She arched her back and pleaded. She had forgotten all about the mask and wanted him to make love to her. And he wanted that too, but not yet. It was too soon.


"Please what, pet?"


She still had trouble asking for what she wanted even when he gave her permission to speak. He knew what she wanted, but...

"What, pet? What do you want?"

"Please, master," was all she could get out.

He continued to tap her nipples or rub bits of ice on her while she squirmed with need. He knelt between her legs, opened her with one hand, and held a piece of ice to her clit.

"Oh, ohhhhh."

He took her clitoris into his mouth and laved his tongue against it, over and over. She was near. He moved his mouth to her thigh.

"No, no."

He laughed and took her distended clitoris into his mouth. He marveled at how enlarged it would get during her arousal. He had never made love to a woman whose clitoris got as distended as hers. Her nipples would harden to fat eraser size and her clitoris was at least half-inch long when aroused. Absently, he wondered what a nice bar would look like in her hood. What was with him and piercings today, he thought.

"Tell me what you want, my darling little slave. You can have what you want, but you have to ask for it. What is it that you want?"

"You, I want you to..." she couldn't say the words even now. But as he kept her on the edge, she finally cried out, "I want you to fuck me, to let me come. Please master, please."

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