tagBDSMSynder & Ashe Ch. 5

Synder & Ashe Ch. 5


I didn't get breakfast after all. Excitement coursed through me, the feeling so urgent that all thoughts of food escaped. I hungered, yes, but not for mere provender. I craved nutrition of a different sort. I needed food for my soul.

Walking around that mall with Andrew buoyed my flagging spirits. I pointed, and he translated. Slowly but surely, my minuscule Spanish vocabulary grew. Learning Spanish didn't interest me. But learning some rudimentary Spanish gave me the perfect excuse to interact with him. He seemed genuinely pleased at my attempts to learn something. That pleasure changed to amusement when he noticed that most of my vocabulary questions ran to clothing, shoes and accessories. I obviously had certain things on my mind.

He happily indulged me.

Eight o'clock found us outside Beautiful You, a trendy looking little beauty parlor and spa. The five attendants wore uniforms of emerald and amber, rich, elegant colors for beautiful women. They weren't related, but they strongly resembled one another. Each had long, blonde streaked black hair tied into a braid, black eyes and beautifully hued tanned skin. Andrew had been right. I now desired sun like never before. Seeing these Venezuelan Goddesses made me loathe my fishbelly-pallid skin tone.

"What was that?" I said, only now aware that one of the ladies had spoken to me. The attendant smiled, her perfect white teeth illuminating her face. I felt the first stirring of envy.

"She needs a total make over, ladies," Andrew said, hustling me into the nearest chair. The third woman, Sondra according to her name tag, beamed as if she'd just won the lottery. No need to guess whose station I'd been pushed into. "I want her totally redone. Start with her head," he said, brushing gentle fingers against my cheek, "and work your way down. See her oily skin and clogged pores? Fix them." His face left no room for doubt. He meant business.

He slid his fingers down my neck then over my breasts, playing with my stiffening nipples through my top. My breathing grew rapid in response. The attendants, if they thought anything amiss, kept it to themselves.

"New makeup. New nails. A full manicure and pedicure. Total body exfoliation. I want Barbara Ann totally fixed up before she leaves this place." His hands moved to match his words, gliding over my arms, my breasts, down my legs to my calves. Soon they came to rest on my slim ankles. There they remained. "Pay special attention to those feet," he commanded. "They're particularly unattractive, and need a lot of work to make them right." Andrew plucked at my laces then pulled off my runners. He passed them to the nearest attendant. She held onto them by the laces, the runners dangling far away from her body as if they dripped poison. "Look here. See what I mean?" Andrew said, prodding my foot with the tip of the plastic stylus he'd used earlier.

I shriveled in my skin as he pointed out all of the unsightly calluses on the balls of my feet and the scaly flecks of skin on my heels. The tough, rough patches on the outer edges of my feet weren't spared either. He seemed hell-bent to highlight all of my imperfections to these strangers. He ran the stylus tip over the insides of my high arched feet, tickling me. I didn't dare pull my feet away from him, though. I somehow knew that this would anger him.

"Her toes are nice and straight, and have no flaky skin between them. The cuticles have been kept clean, too. She's done fairly well for herself. I want you three ladies to perfect what you find. Do you understand?"

"We understand," Sondra said, assuming the role of spokesperson for the group. "We shall see to it." Sondra scraped a long fingernail against the dry arch of my foot. "We will not spare the moisturizer."

"A greaseless formulation, mind. Got it?" He rubbed his hand over my breasts. My nipples poked against his palm as it passed over them. Why did he do this to me? Why didn't they say anything? Then again, why didn't I say anything, either? I suffered his inappropriate touches in silence. "Remember her pores," he said. “No heavy oils.” Sondra nodded again. "How much time do you ladies need?" Andrew asked.

"Three, perhaps four hours."

"That long? Then I suggest you ladies get started," he said. He slid his hand over me, down into my shorts and dove straight into my pussy, basting his fingers with my juices. Believe me, I had moisture a-plenty down there for him to find. Him talking about me as if I wasn't even in the room excited me terribly. I don't know why. Being his pet project, his thing to sculpt and improve made my pussy drip. When he extricated his hand, rubbed the moisture between his fingers and then licked his fingers clean I almost exploded. "I'll see you all at noon, then," he said. Then he left. All of the women joined me in staring at his retreating back.

"He's very forceful," Sondra whispered to me as she gazed after him. "Your lover, yes?"

"My husband," I lied, flashing Dave's wedding ring at her.

Sondra smiled at me. "I no believe," she said. "Women no look at husbands that way."

"What way?"

"Looking like she takes him any way she gets him. A wife possesses. A mistress desires. True, or no true?" Sondra's smirk softened. She almost looked pitying. The look burned my ass. "Enough talk. Time to make you beautiful." Sondra said something to the other women. They immediately descended, barracuda-style, upon me. I only paid them half a mind as they went about their business.

It still amazed me that a man in Andrew's position would take so much time examining something as trifling as a woman's feet. Moreover, it amazed me he took so much pleasure in doing so. I've never thought of that part of my body as being sexy, but I'd certainly do so now! Whatever part of me tantalized him would definitely be a part of me I'd treasure from this point onwards. Even if he hadn't said so, I would've insisted on a soak and pedicure after his actions in the mall. If he loved to see my feet so much, I'd learn to love them as well. An angler needed a baited hook to catch the big fish. I could think of none bigger than Andrew Grissolm.


Time has always been my great enemy. Either I had too much of it, or not enough. Today, for once, it didn't concern me. Nothing concerned me outside of the swirling water currents that tickled my supersensitive skin. I sat in a marble whirlpool tub enjoying how the tiny bubbles made my recently scrubbed, pink skin effervesce. My body had never felt this sensitive before, this alive. If felt like my skin could feel a glance.

These people really knew how to work someone over. My exfoliation had done more than remove dead, flaky skin. It had scoured away years of worry, neglect and angst. Not only did I have an all over body blush from the intense scrubbing, but my entire mood had been lifted. The removal of the dead skin had eradicated a ton of leaden grief from my spirit. My face, though sweltering and relaxed, maintained its frozen, perpetual smile.

I sank down lower into the water, enjoying the way the jets tickled the crevice between my legs. They wrapped my body in a tangle of liquid tendrils that felt very much like the insinuating fingers of my boyfriend. I giggled at that. Andrew Grissolm: Boyfriend. No, not quite. I wondered what to consider him. How did I define our relationship?

And why had I thought of his touch first and not my husband's?

Quiet footfalls alerted me to the presence of another. Sondra approached, telling me that she would be back for me when it was time to dry off and get dressed. I sighed. Nothing good lasted forever. I remained in the bubbly water for ten more minutes before finally deciding to get up and leave. Delaying would only make things harder. I stood up in the pool of water, preparing to exit.

Andrew stood before me, face looking very amused. "Hello," he said.

I died, was cremated, then sprang forth from the steaming ashes in one embarrassing, terrifying moment. I had dreamed of the day when I'd stand before Andrew, naked and ready for him to take me. It had been a nighttime fantasy, just a dream, but had been a very romantic seduction on his part. Pleading and cajoling, he'd finally convinced me to slip out of my clothing and to present myself to him for his pleasure. In my dreams he'd begged for the honor of finally taking me, of making me his woman. Instead, I now stood on display for him like a piece of meat at the market. Standing there, freshly cleansed, I now felt soiled.

I wanted to die.

My brain had seized up, but my body knew what to do. An arm snaked over my breasts, concealing my hardening nipples while the other one hid my pussy from him. Then I sank into the bubbling whirlpool to hide. I had considered my skin red earlier. I hadn't known how crimson flesh could turn. My entire body looked as scarlet as a vine ripened tomato.

"How did your treatments go?" Andrew folded a thick, fluffy towel into a pad and laid it upon the edge of the tub. He then sat down upon it, balancing upon the narrow edge of the tub. His warm, expressive eyes bored into me. My mouth worked soundlessly.

"Barbara Ann?"

"Oh! Very well. The women took great care of me," I said, still in shock.

"Is that so? What did they do?"

Andrew interrogated me for a good quarter of an hour, making me stay submerged to the breasts the entire time. My body felt lobster-steamed, my skin redder than a parboiled carapace. The water had once felt dreamily, pleasantly warm. Now it felt nightmarishly hot, a hellish stew pot of torturous temperature. Andrew sat, totally oblivious to my plight. He engaged me in a light bout of trivial conversation while I felt near to passing out. Eventually, he simply stopped talking and sat there, staring at the tops of my tits as if his gaze could make the film of water on them evaporate into a puff of superheated steam.

What he waited for I couldn't guess.

"You'll have to get out eventually, Barbara Ann. You'll prune to death this way."

"As soon as you leave," I said, not thinking.

"Oh? I'll leave when you get up," he replied. He plunged his hand into the water, soaking his sleeve to the elbow as he fished out my waterlogged hand. Using this, he yanked me up out of the water, like Aphrodite breaking out of the waves at dawn. I stepped free of the pearlescent pink tub and stood on the bath mat, dripping, shivering, but oh so hot! My hand remained immobilized in his grip. I had wanted to cover my breasts to protect them from his scrutiny. Instead, one hand twitched passively beside me, doing nothing. The other hand quivered in the iron grip that held it.

"Turn around for me, Barbara Ann. Slowly."

He released my hand. It immediately leaped to my left breast. The other hand snapped to the still-exposed right one. That left the rest of my body uncovered and vulnerable. I clamped my legs together to conceal my tingling inner recesses from him.

"Spin like you did in the mall this morning, Barbara Ann." I felt impatience radiating from him. "Hurry up. I won’t ask so nicely again."

I obeyed him, turning around in a slow, lazy circle in front of the tub. I kept my breasts covered, expecting him to comment upon it. He didn't. My flesh felt hot wherever his burning gaze contacted my tender skin. Those stares of his made me sizzle.

"Beautiful," he whispered. He out and caressed a firm, plump ass cheek. He didn't stop there. His hand wandered lower, down my wide hip, along my buttocks and down my thigh. The fiery trail he traced down my body smoked. "So very beautiful."

His caresses grew insistent. His fingertips burrowed between the lobes of my ass, grazing against my puckered asshole. It clenched and relaxed in spasmodic little bursts from the light, irregular contact. My legs flexed by themselves. My ready, warm pussy seeped lubrication. As much as my body obviously wanted his touch, my mind wanted me to pull away. I forced myself to remain still. Why did I even try lying to myself, pretending that I didn’t want his hands on me? I only tolerated his touch. I didn’t want it, or him.

His laughing eyes told me he didn't believe that I suffered at all.

"Now your hands, Barbara Ann. Lower them." He took his hands from me, stepping back a pace so he could watch easier. I immediately longed for his hands to return to where he’d had them, buried between my asscheeks, prying me open.

Damn! How could I fall for a man that fast? Was I that weak? I couldn't bear to watch him. Color suffused my cheeks as I slowly pulled my hands away from my breasts. The long, hard nipples puckered from the sudden contact with the cooler air. Small gooseflesh-like pimples covered my areolas. Andrew grasped both of my nipples firmly, applying a gentle, constant pressure to them. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked me. He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear me admit it aloud. His face neared mine, his breath even hotter than my already inflamed desire. The pressure on my nipples increased as his face closed in with mine. “Tell me. Do you like this?” The pressure increased exponentially, making my heart stop and my pussy boil.

“Yes!” I hissed between clenched teeth. This close I could see the faint, almost indiscernible down that clung to his cheeks like the fuzz on a peach. He looked so different from Dave, but felt the same to me in so many ways. I felt secure around both men, though I had absolutely no reason to feel that way about Andrew. I hadn't known him for very long, but I instinctively felt that I could trust him. At the very least, I could trust the man to take good care of his possessions.

That’s when it hit me; how to categorize our relationship. Not a lover. Not a girlfriend. For this week I was his plaything. His toy. Surprisingly, the thought pleased me.

His face neared mine. He was going to kiss me at long last! My head craned back as my lips parted, all hot and eager to accept him. Instead, his mouth veered to the left. Sharp teeth grazed at the side of my neck. His chin stubble tickled my skin. The scratchy sensations made my clit twitch.

"I'll see you again soon," he said. Then he pulled away from me. "Finish up in here." He left.

That floored me. How could he just leave me after inflaming my lusts like that? He was worse than Dave! At least my husband hadn’t set out to get me hot. He had just refused to take advantage of my horny, need-to-fuck condition. Andrew, however, had been the instigator. He had made me want him, than had walked away. I wanted to kill him! I wanted to scream at him.

I needed to have him.

Instead, I stayed still, struck dumb by my reactions to his abandonment.

I don't know how long I stood there, naked and dripping. All I remember is that one minute I'd been displaying myself for Andrew, and the next minute Sondra had been gently shaking my shoulder. A large bath towel had magically wrapped itself around my body.

"Mrs. Grissolm? Your husband has told us to have you ready in fifteen minutes. Please hurry!" The round-eyed frenzy in her touched a nerve in me. She, too, didn't want to disappoint or anger Andrew. I knew just how the woman felt, but was angered that the tart dared presume to care. Still, she had a job to do. I allowed myself to be herded into a small room where a stack of boxes waited on a table.

"Your new clothes, Mrs. Grissolm. Please dress, then come out front." Sondra left quickly, vanishing behind a curtain that blocked the doorway.

Call me stunned and stupid, but I actually spent a couple of minutes searching for my top, shorts and runners. Of course I didn’t locate them. I’d never see my things again. I let the towel drop to the floor as I reached for the closest box. It contained a pair of sexy high heels. Black, latigo leather affairs with remarkably thin, ankle twisting heels. The multitude of thin leather straps spiraled around the instep to the rear heel. A pair of extra long, butter-soft thongs pooled in the box. Grecian slave-style lacings. Enough length to reach my knees, I estimated.

I quickly rifled through the other boxes, finding a thin black thong bikini bottom that covered nothing, a leopardskin print wraparound sarong, a long, matching print rectangle of cloth that looked to be some kind of sash, and a purse. More interesting still was the set of inch thick, braided leather straps I found that connected to a pair of bright silver O-rings. Those rings, in turn, were sewn to a pair of collars. The leatherwork looked like a harness of some kind. The smaller collar would fit my neck. The larger, my waist. The strands of braided leather would create an interesting web over my body in the spaces in between. The supple, strong leather smelled divine! My fingers scraped along the braid work, appreciating the craft that had gone into fashioning them.

That’s how Andrew found me, sniffing at the braided leather straps like a unruly bitch did a brand new leash. I was a child caught doing mischief. Like one, I quickly pulled my hands away and put them behind my back in an attempt to conceal the harness. This, in turn, only resulted in me revealing more of myself to his lewd gaze. Amusement shone in his eyes as he walked over to me, watching me futilely trying to cover my front while simultaneously keeping my arms behind my back.

Why did my brain short-circuit every time he came anywhere near me?

"Barbara Ann," he whispered, so low I had to force myself to hear him, "you're never to hide your body from me again. Do you understand?"

Anger flashed across my face. "What?"

He stepped forward then wrapped his left hand gently around my neck. His thumb caressed my throat. He did not even let the full weight of his hand rest upon me, yet I still could sense the hidden strength inside him. "Yes, Andrew," I said, dying inside. That pathetic voice could've belonged to a four-year-old girl, not a woman closer to forty.

"What do you understand?" he questioned. His powerful hand changed its grip, now clutching me under the chin. He tilted my head upwards, gazing into my eyes as he used his thumb to trace along my bottom lip. My tongue flickered out, stimulated by his caress. It slid over my bottom lip, grazing his thumb. The buds of my tongue could feel every minute ridge of his thumbnail as they slid across them.

"Well?" he pressed.

"My body is yours to do with what you choose," I whispered. My breasts heaved in time with my breathing. The blasted room spun, or was it myself that careened out of control? I had to force myself to focus on him. Only him. Everything else looked twisty-turvy and couldn't be trusted. He remained the only constant in the room. In a very real sense, he'd become my entire world.

"Good," he said. I could hear the smile in his words. "Now dress from me. Slowly, Barbara Ann. Start with the shoes. Keep me interested."

Now that was different! In my dreams it had always been the undressing that had made him excited. I had thought since he had seen me already, that was a mystery we’d never share. Could someone even perform a dress-tease? Apparently so. I tried to be graceful, using every bit of my skill. To be perfectly honest, I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I copied some of the moves I've seen the girls do on rap videos and some of Dave's porn flicks. Doing them in reverse seemed ludicrous. I pointed my toe as I slipped on a strappy sandal, letting my fingers caress the swaths of pink, freshly scrubbed skin that peeked out from between the leather strands. My feet shone, so recently buffed, rubbed and de-callused. In truth, I couldn't believe how deliciously soft they felt even to myself!

They did look sexy, especially in those wonderful shoes. For a moment I wondered what it would feel like to have his cock in between the soles of my feet, letting my dainty, nimble toes curl about his shaft like tiny fingers as I used my feet to work it to the brink of orgasm. Then his cum; the hot, scalding stuff would pelt my body, searing my soul as it traced sizzling tracks across my hide. The very thought of it made my pussy itch. I quickly covered up my arousal with further action, continuing to tie up the Grecian lacings right up to the knee. The other shoe went on much faster than the first.

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