The Cruel and the Curious Pt. 01

At the top of the stairwell, Grace showed him into a well-furnished room. The wallpaper was patterned with lotuses, a mahogany chest of drawers was positioned by the window beside a floor-length mirror, and a scented candle--smelling of sandalwood and cherry blossoms--rested on a small table in a corner. On another small table next to the massage table, there was a glass pump-bottle of massage oil.

A small speaker hung from the ceiling at the opposite corner of the room, playing soothing music on an endless loop. The gentle sounds of flutes and zithers drifted from the speaker, mingling with the sound of water flowing downhill. If not for the padded massage table at the center of the room, it might have been a room in a quaint little hotel.

"Your form says you've been here before," Grace said. "I guess you probably know the drill by now. But just as a refresher: I'll leave you alone for a few minutes to get undressed. You're welcome to undress as much as you're comfortable with. Most people strip down to their underwear, or nothing at all. Don't worry, though. I'll keep you covered."

The massage table was draped with thin sheets, leaving Max just enough space to crawl under.

"When you're ready, you can just get under the sheets," Grace continued. "I'll knock on the door before I come in. And then we can get started."

"Sounds good," Max said.

He took a deep breath as Grace turned around and shut the door behind her, summoning as much mental willpower as he could muster as he struggled to banish his favorite fantasy from his mind. But he couldn't help it: he found himself picturing Grace lounging in the corner of the room with a smirk on her impish face, giggling with playful glee as she watched him prepare to remove his clothes.

He turned around and faced the mirror, staring his reflection in the eyes as he reached down to pull his grey pullover sweater up over his head. He tossed his sweater onto the chair beside the chest of drawers, then kicked off his brown loafers and peeled off his socks, stuffing his socks into his shoes before placing them under the chair. Next, he unbuckled his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor, then draped them over the back of the chair.

Wearing nothing but his navy blue boxer briefs, he looked his body over in the mirror.

Max didn't always love his distinctly skinny physique. His endless hours spent running along the hiking trails by his apartment kept his body lean, but sometimes he wished he could squeeze in a few extra hours to lift some weights at the gym at Piper University. His thighs were thick and muscular, and his backside was taut and round, but his long arms were skinny enough to make him self-conscious. Today, though, he allowed himself a moment of pride as he ran a hand over his flat abs, feeling the thin layer of body hair that covered his stomach and his firm pecs.

He slipped a finger into the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs--and slowly, very slowly, he lowered them. He tossed them onto the chair, where they landed squarely on top of his pullover sweater.

His cock still twitched faintly, but didn't quite jump to full throbbing hardness. The thought of Grace waiting on the other side of the door--still fully clothed--was undeniably exciting, but he wouldn't let himself lose control of his arousal. Madame E, bless her, had trained him better than that.

Finally, he made his way over to the massage table, pausing for just one moment to look back over his shoulder and admire his bare buttocks, still as firm and round as ever. Then he lay face-down on the table and pulled the sheets over him, doing his best to let his body relax as he rested his face on the semi-circular hole at the head of the table.

And he waited...

  

Grace kept her eye on the clock as she waited on the other side of the door. At 10:05, she knocked on the door three times, and Max's voice greeted her.

"Come in!"

She opened the door and made her way toward the massage table with soft footsteps. Max lay face-down on the table with his face resting in the semi-circular hole, the sheets covering his body from his ankles to his neck. His clothes were dumped in a pile on the chair with his shoes and socks under them. Before Grace squirted a dollop of massage oil into her hand, she noted that his underwear was sitting on top of the pile of clothes.

So he was naked under the sheets. Completely naked.

She rubbed her hands together until her palms and fingers were slick and shiny with oil, which smelled faintly of brown sugar and ripe pears.

"Let me know if I use too much pressure, alright" Grace told him. "Everybody's got their limits. And I can be gentle when I want to be."

With faint amusement, Max silently noted that Madame E had said almost exactly the same thing to him during their first session. Their traditional safe-word was "Memphis."

"Thanks," Max said. "I'll let you know."

Slowly, Grace peeled the sheet from his bare back--but before she could lay her hands on him, something made her pause.

Max was in near-perfect physical shape. His body was slim, and his back and shoulders were well-muscled--but his skin was covered in a series of deep welts, which stood out in a crisscrossing "X" pattern from his shoulder blades to the small of his back.

Someone had clearly spent multiple hours beating him--most likely with a whip. The marks weren't deep, and the beating clearly hadn't left him with serious physical injury, but there were enough marks to make it clear that his beatings were a regular occurrence. As if another beating began every time the marks of his last one healed.

Apart from the welts, there were scars from deep scratches at various points all over his back, as if someone had dragged sharpened metal spikes across his skin, just hard enough to leave a mark. And even though Max didn't seem like the kind of guy to wear tattoos on visible parts of his body, there was a single tattoo etched onto his right shoulder-blade in dark blue ink: a tattoo of the letter "E" in swirling, ornate script.

"E" "E" could stand for a hell of a lot of things. When she looked at the tattoo alongside Max's many welts and scars, Grace couldn't shake the feeling that they were somehow connected.

She couldn't shake her curiosity. With oily hands, Grace reached down to touch Max's back, tracing her fingers along the crisscrossing shape of his welts. As she did, goosebumps rose along his back.

"Are...are you alright" Grace asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Max was silent for a moment before he answered.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm fine."

All at once, Grace felt her fantasy surging back into her mind. She pictured Max staring up at her from the massage table with his warm brown eyes, and imagined pulling a rope taut and binding his hands under the table, just like she had done to her imaginary lover. In her fantasies, her lust for control never went farther than that--but somehow, the sight of Max's welts and scars had awakened something in her. In her mind, she saw herself standing over him with a leather-handled whip, her mind swimming with infinite possibilities as he awaited his punishment.

Damn... Sometimes when her fantasies got wild, Grace surprised even herself.

Again, she mentally pulled herself back to reality as she positioned her hands over Max's back, ready to begin. The voice of her boss echoes though her mind.

There's nothing sexual about this job.

Maybe not. But sometimes, Grace couldn't stop herself from dreaming...

She started with his glutes, digging her thumbs and forefingers deep into the tight muscles of his taut buttocks, smiling with satisfaction as she felt the muscles loosen and unclench under the towel. After she'd been at it for a good ten minutes, Max let out a gentle sigh of satisfaction.

As she prepared to massage his thighs and legs, Grace left one hand rest atop his firm backside for a few moments longer than she needed to--but if it made Max uncomfortable, he didn't complain.

Methodically, she moved from one major muscle group to the next, digging the heel of her hand into the tight sinew of his powerful thighs, savoring the contours of his lithe legs slick with oil as she ran her hands along the length of his calves. As she worked her way down to his ankles, she peeled the sheet back further, leaving him covered only by a folded sheet laid across his butt.

Before moving to the front of his body, she leaned over him and dug her elbow into his back muscles, putting as much of her weight onto him as she could. Once again, he let out a small sigh as his back muscles unclenched and his spine settled into a more comfortable position.

When Grace looked down, she realized that the sheet had been pulled slightly askew, exposing a tantalizing fraction of the crack of Max's buttocks. She allowed herself one brief moment to enjoy the view before she reached down to pull the sheet back over the full length of his body.

"Alright..." Grace said. "Would you mind turning over for me I'm gonna work on the front of your body now."

"No problem," Max said.

Grace stood at the head of the massage table as he flipped over onto his back. When he looked up, their eyes met again.

On the small table next to the massage table, a small white cloth blindfold lay beside the bottle of massage oil. Normally, Grace draped the blindfold over her clients' eyes to spare them the awkwardness of eye contact. This time, though, she left it off--and let her gaze linger on Max's warm brown eyes, which reminded her of woodsmoke.

Once again, she peeled the sheet downward as she leaned down to dig her fingers into his firm pecs, slowly working her way down to his abs. But when she reached his firm belly, she paused.

Underneath the thin sheet, the unmistakable shape of his half-erect penis pressed upward, its silhouette clearly visible as it faintly twitched with arousal.

He looked up. When their eyes met again, Max's face was awash with anxiety. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly, and his brow was creased.

For a moment, Grace's mind was blank as she tried to decide on a tactful response. She certainly couldn't encourage him--but against all odds, she didn't feel uncomfortable. There was something timid and earnest in Max's demeanor, as if he couldn't handle the thought of upsetting somebody. She sensed that he wasn't the type of guy to step out of line and make a flirtatious comment, but his arousal was obvious. And Grace couldn't deny that it was nice to be wanted...

Deep down, something about this job always made her feel powerful. When a client laid himself down on the massage table, naked and unprotected, he left his body in Grace's hands. With every one of a man's muscles at her fingertips, the line between pain and pleasure often grew thin. And there was always more than one way to make a man feel helpless.

"It's alright," she whispered. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

She gave him a faint smile to put him at ease.

"Are you uncomfortable" she asked. "We're almost done. And we can always stop whenever you want."

Max's face relaxed. His cheeks were reddened with shame, but he gave her a sly smile.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll be okay. I promise."

As she pressed her palms against his chest and worked out the tightness in his pecs with her fingers, she let her thumb brush his right nipple. Goosebumps rose all across his chest--but once again, Max didn't complain.

The rest of the massage passed in silence. Max closed his eyes as Grace massaged and caressed the muscles along the sides of his stomach, feeling the faint imprint of his ribs through his skin. When the clock hit 11:00, she stood up straight.

"Looks like we're done here," she said softly. "I hope you enjoyed that. I'll give you a few minutes to get dressed. Take as much time as you need."

"I appreciate it," Max said, still blushing slightly. "I'll be right out."

She gently patted his bare chest before turning to leave the room, closing the door behind her.

  

When Max came out of the room fully dressed, Grace gave him the standard post-massage debriefing, keeping her demeanor as prim and professional as possible.

"Be sure to drink lots of water," she told him. "And call us if you have any problems with pain or muscle spasms. Any feedback for me"

"Just positive feedback," Max said, looking contented. "You did great. That was just what I needed. I'm sure I'll be back."

Somehow, Grace suspected that he'd specifically request an appointment with her when he booked his next session.

"Great to hear!" Grace said, beaming with pride. "I hope the rest of your day is just as nice."

He smiled as he waved goodbye, and headed downstairs to check out with the receptionist. As he made his way out through the front door, Grace kept her eyes riveted on that spot on his back where the letter "E" had been tattooed alongside his numerous welts.

"E." Chances were excellent that she'd never find out what "E" stood for. But all the same, she couldn't help wondering.

  

It was just after 11 o'clock. That left Grace just enough time to grab a quick lunch before she needed to take the bus uptown to make it to her 12:30 figure-drawing class at Piper.

The next hour passed in a blur as Grace changed into jeans and a loose-fitting blouse, headed across the street to grab a sandwich from the nearest café, and walked to the bus-stop with her sketchpad and her pencils in hand.

The bus dropped her off just a short walk from the Art Building, and she made it into Professor Leclaire's classroom with just enough time to gather her thoughts and catch her breath before her daily figure-drawing session began. She found an empty desk next to Julia, a longtime classmate she'd known since her first class at Piper.

At the front of the classroom, Professor Leclaire stood behind a lectern next to a small raised stage, where the life models always stood while the students sketched them in various poses. More often than not, they arrived at the start of class wearing a thin robe, which they could easily slip on and off when class began and ended. The students' rows of desks were arrayed auditorium-style in a small semicircle, giving them all a perfect view of the life models.

At a minute past 12:30, Professor Leclaire surveyed the classroom, silently taking attendance before class began. She briefly eyed the door.

"I hope you all got plenty of rest over the weekend," Professor Leclaire said, smiling at the students as they took out their sketchpads and sharpened their pencils. "I'm happy to say that we'll be working with a new life model today. He should be here any minute! I gave him a moment to get ready."

A new model It wasn't the most exciting news in the world, but it made her ears perk up. As far as she knew, the Art Department only had six models, and she'd already sketched them in every pose imaginable. Piper wasn't a large university, and it wasn't always easy to find students who were willing to pose naked in front of a roomful of aspiring artists. If nothing else, sketching a new model would be a nice change of pace.

As if waiting for Professor Leclaire's cue, a man dressed in a thin blue robe made his way through the doorway and stepped up onto the stage. As soon as Grace saw him, her pencil dropped out of her hand.

No. It couldn't be...

"Ah, there he is!" Professor Leclaire said, smiling warmly at the new model. "Thank you again for agreeing to work with us today, Max!"

"No problem, Ma'am," he said. "It was my pleasure."

Grace stared at him from across the length of the classroom, her gaze lingering on his reddish hair and his warm brown eyes. His clothing was different, but there was no mistaking him. It was Max!

Max took his place atop the stage. His hand went to the loose sash at his waist as he prepared to slip out of his robe. But when his eyes met Grace's gaze, he paused.

His eyes widened with recognition. He recognized Grace just as surely as he recognized him. Clearly, he hadn't planned on encountering any familiar faces today. But there was no backing out now.

Max's hands quivered as he fumbled with his sash. He pulled the knot loose and slipped the robe off of his muscular shoulders. As his robe dropped to the floor, the lights of the classroom bathed his naked body in harsh white light.

Lounging comfortably at her desk, Grace savored every moment as she looked his body over, her eyes drifting downward to his exposed penis.

This was going to be fun...