The Connoisseur Ch. 07

7. In Which Alice is Fucked Again

I took her upstairs after that, and filled a sunken marble tub for us. I kept the jets on low. Candles and bubbles, warmth and sweet, spicy scents, a cornucopia of new sensations to both comfort her and keep her just slightly off balance. The kiss and the whip, that's the way to mold a captive woman, to make her truly yours, body and soul. We sipped wine and we unwound, neither of us saying much.

She rested her head on my shoulder. "I never thought this could come true," she said, her lovely accented voice lower than a whisper. "I never dared believe it." I'm not sure which of is she was talking to. I kissed her on the top of her head.

When we'd soaked enough to relax ourselves, I allowed her to bathe, dry, and dress me, although of course I kept her naked. I cuffed her to a hook in the tiled floor in my spacious Italian kitchen and let her watch as I cooked us a marvelous supper. That arrangement afforded me the pleasant view of her pink and naked charms as I worked, and it gave her a chance to learn where things were kept. She'd need to know that to be an efficient servant.

When finished, I unchained her and had her serve us both. When the table was set, I bound her hands behind her back again. She knelt by my feet as we ate. That must have been difficult; her red bottom was still quite sore. But she made no compliant and I was proud of her. I fed her from my own plate, and let her drink wine from my own glass. Her nipples were proud and tall, and her areolas were puffed and swollen. I ached to take them in my mouth, and I indulged myself rather frequently. She sighed and whimpered with delight.

We didn't talk much. For the most part, we simply smiled and enjoyed.

For desert I painted her body with chocolate and licked it slowly clean.

I fucked her again that night, her cunt tight, wet, and welcoming, her hands bound to the headboard of my own bed, her feet wrapped tight around me, my mouth suckling and biting her tender breasts and neck as I moved in her. She cried out when I thrust especially hard--as I mentioned, her bottom was still magnificently sore--and her screams, pain and ecstasy, blended together into a passionate melody, the very sweetest of symphonies.

I alternated my rhythms, moving in her slowly, gently, and deep, and then hard, hard as I could, and fast. She cried with pain, with passion, and with joy, and I fucked her harder, and harder still. After the day's activities, it took me a long time indeed to come.

I let her sleep in my own bedroom that night. Not in my bed, of course, but chained by her collar to the floor of a gilded cage--like an oversized birdcage--that I kept close by. It was the perfect size for holding a lovely female captive, and its lines matched the tasteful décor of my bedroom. I'd had it made specially, of course. The floor of the cage was lined with cushions and furs, and I gave her a blanket, although I hated the idea of covering her nubile, naked body, with its soft but magnificent slopes and curves, even for the hours I slept. But a gentleman must be a generous host, after all. Besides, I wanted her to sleep comfortably. She would need the rest.

I must have dreamed of her as I slept, for I woke in the middle of the night with a raging erection that had to be put right. I woke her and make her suck me through the bars of her cage I had not bound her hands, so she reached around and fondled my ass as she took me in her mouth, deeper even than she had before, and she reached around to cup and caress my heavy balls when, at last, I offered her tongue and throat the gift of my seed.

In the morning, I could not wait. I opened Alice's cage, unclipped the chain that moored her collar to the floor, and led her with it to the very edge of my bed. I gagged her. She wasn't pleased, but she accepted it submissively. That was fine for a second day, but she would have to learn not to show even a hint of displeasure when her Master makes his will known. I made a mental note to punish her later when I explained the lesson. Pausing only to cuff and bind her wrists behind her back and shove a hastily lubed plug into her ass, I bent her over the bed and took her from behind, spanking her pert bottom like a drum as I fucked her. I fucked and spanked her very hard indeed, and for a very long time that morning. It is always best, in my opinion, to begin the day with a magnificent orgasm.

Sated (for the moment, anyway) at last, I allowed her to cook our breakfast -- enjoying the sight of her bounding red bottom as she worked -- and to serve us before taking her place at my feet. I held her leash when we ate a most delicious morning repast. She would need no training as a chef.

When she'd cleared away the dishes, I rebound her hands, and checked the brass padlocks on her ankle cuffs and collar. Confident that all was secure, I gave her bottom a smart swat and sent her downstairs to await my pleasure in the playroom. She smiled coquettishly and gave me a little curtsey, her bare breasts bobbing delightfully. I reminded myself that I'd need to introduce her to nipple clamps today, and likely a larger butt plug to boot.

I enjoyed another leisurely cup of coffee and perused my paper. Best to let the minx anticipate for a bit. We had a very long day before us.

She asked to stay again that night, shyly, blushing, and again the night after that. On the fourth day, the subject of returning to her old life never even came up. In all that time, she had not worn a stitch of clothing, save for her cuffs, collar, and nipple clamps, the latter something her especially sensitive breasts did not enjoy, either when the teeth first bit into her tender flesh, or when they were removed and the blood came rushing back.

On the fifth day, I began her training in earnest.