The Mischief Maker vs. The Girl

The Master of the house ran a tight ship. Strict but fair, firm but reasonable. He had a lively personality, and a good sense of humor when he wanted to utilize it. A quite social man, he often threw lavish parties for esteemed guests and old friends. He could typically be found standing tall, blue sparkling eyes dancing with impish delight as he regaled his audience with intriguing stories, with just a touch of well timed humor.

Often found milling nearby was his beloved, Genevieve. A lovely little thing, her face was framed by long tresses of hair the color of honey, and her lips the color of cherries. She had an engaging passion for life, laughter, and of course just a touch of mischief if she thought she might be able to get away with it. The Master adored her.

Occasionally the Master would throw a rather intimate gathering. At these particular occasions Genevieve would often find herself stripped nearly bare and tressed up, to be put on display for the few guests to watch, feeding their inner voyeuristic spirit. Genevieve would blush, and the urge to hide would grip her as she felt the eyes of the Master's well selected guests openly linger on her. The bindings ensured she reminded in place. Forced to merely fidget.. and endure. The Master stated this was to "encourage" the exhibitionist tendencies she refused to admit lurked within her, however Genevieve suspected it was somehow more about how much he enjoyed watching her, shy and embarrassed, exposed before a chosen few.

The two shared similar passions. The Master was skilled in the art of discipline, and though she often pleaded for leniency, Gen found she rather enjoyed being the recipient of his darker urges. The Master was a reasonable man and there were only few rules in which he demanded her obedience.

Each week stripes were earned, and delivered. Willful by nature, Genevieve often couldn't help herself. Mischief was fun. This meant of course, that each Sunday morning, she'd find herself bent over, pale bottom about to be decorated, each stripe a firm reminder of her misbehavior. Though, there was one rule, even as willful as she tends to be, that she does not break. Not anymore.

The Master enjoys pleasure, Genevieve often cheekily described him as a hedonist. Not a selfish man, he enjoys both the receiving and giving of pleasure. The one rule he sternly demands strict adherence to is that if Gen is to receive pleasure, it will be at his hand. A difficult rule at first. Unused to the restriction Genevieve struggled, often sneaking off to try and touch when she thought she'd be able to get away with it. She was only caught once, but once was enough.

With her legs tied open, clit peeping out and quite unprotected, the Master of the house educated her with the tip of his crop on the merits of following his rules, and in particular, that to come, one needed permission. His permission. In such a vulnerable position, Genevieve found she was a rather quick learner.

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The Master had a guest. Rumor among the house staff was that this devilishly charming man was his oldest friend come to spend a few weeks with them. The Master had yet to confirm who this gentleman was, though the staff was more than content to continue to speculate amongst themselves. He had an easy going smile, and a confident gaze that seemed to linger just a touch too long to be completely innocent. Though he had just arrived, he was already frequent topic of conversation. He seemed the sort to rather enjoy the attention.

After being graciously shown to his room, the gentleman quickly felt restless in his quarters. It was a beautiful room, richly decorated, and yet his eyes were thirsting for something of a different kind beauty. A beauty he had heard his dear friend had been involved with for quite some time. Briefly grinning to himself, he left his quarters in search of his prey.

Ambling at a leisurely pace down the corridor, the gentleman's attentions were caught by a slight noise he heard coming from what he believed to be the Master's library. Rounding the corner, his eyes settled on the lithe figure of the young girl reaching for a book on the top shelf. The mystery of the little noise he heard was now solved. He appreciated the view as she struggled on tiptoe, fingers just brushing the edge of the book.

Sensing an opportunity, he strode to her. Pressing himself against her back, he reached above her plucking the book from the shelf and pressing it into her searching hand.

She turned to look at him, and a slight grin spread across her lips.

"Thank you.. Mister...?"

"Flynn works."

"Is that actually your name?"

He smirked, "For what I have in mind, I'm not sure names really matter."

Suddenly Genevieve felt this man was standing just a little too close. His friendly gaze, lingering just a little too long. Perhaps it was time to make an elegant escape.

She pushed ineffectively against his shoulder as he stood before her. Swallowing hard, Genevieve peeked up at him with wariness. Now rather abruptly this gentleman didn't seem so innocently helpful.

In an attempt to ease her tension, she chuckled slightly, trying to inch under his arm, "And, um, what did you have in mind?"

A satisfied grin formed, "You seem a girl who knows her way around literature. How should I put it?" The man snapped his fingers as if a mental lightbulb had just gone off. "As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, 'I'm a slave to my emotions'."

Genevieve's eyebrows rose. "Wha-!"

He leaned into her, his hand snaking beneath the hem of her skirt.

With a devilish smile he began to tease and probe. A little gasp fell past Genevieve's lips as she squirmed, pinned between his lean body and the wall.

He looked down at her, "Keep still now."

She swallowed hard, an internal struggle welling up inside. Her first instinct to shriek her outrage at his bold indecency, and continue to try to wriggle free. Her second was to still her squirming, part her legs further... and obey. She believed this man was a good friend of The Master. She vaguely remembered that she once heard him say that when it came to his esteemed guests, "what was his, was theirs". Genevieve chewed on her lower lip.. did that mean her as well?

She was sharply pulled from her thoughts by Flynn's touch. His fingers moved deftly, brazenly exploring her intimate folds, sliding freely through slick wetness. He commented on her arousal and she felt her cheeks burn.

"I should probably let you know how this works. The more you struggle now, the tighter I'm going to tie you to my headboard later."

Genevieve worked hard to stifle the little moan that threatened to slip past her pretty lips. Images of the delicious ways the Master often tied her up drifted through her mind. She found herself considering pressing herself harder into Flynn's hand in spite of her lingering acrid indignation at his casual iniquity.

"You certainly waste no time." The Master was leaning on the door frame to the Library, intently watching the pair before him.

Gen gasped worried the Master would get the wrong idea about just what was happening here, and pushed hard against Flynn's chest renewing her efforts to put distance between them.

Flynn clucked his tongue at her, and would not be budged. His hand remained beneath her skirt as he turned to face the Master. He shrugged, a coy grin tugging at his mouth.

"What can I say? I'm very much a seize the moment kind of guy, living for the here and now, carpe diem, let no moment go wasted, et cetera et cetera."

To her horror, the Master actually chuckled at this. What the hell was going on?

"I'd almost forgotten how recklessly committed you are to seeking out hedonistic pleasures in any given situation."

Gen started to have a sinking feeling the exchange between Flynn and the Master was not going to go as she had hoped. No longer worried about possible expectations on meek compliance, Gen decided it was time to be her own advocate and jumped into the conversation, hoping to somehow encourage the Master to intervene here.

Flynn clamped his hand over Gen's lush lips, abruptly ending her protest. "Shhh darling. Men are talking."

Genevieve's outraged squeal at this misogynistic dismissal was muffled behind his hand.

"Now be a good girl and let us finish our conversation." Before Jonathan could turn back to the Master, he let out a yelp and quickly withdrew his hand from Genevieve's face, shaking it.

"She bit me!" He exclaimed, astonished.

A satisfied smirk rested upon Gen's lips.

The Master's rich laughter filled the room. "A little reminder you're playing with fire, Jonathan."

Gen's eyes narrowed at the man she knew as Flynn. "So you were lying about your name."

Jonathan looked bemused. "Of all the things that have happened in our current exchange I'm a little surprised that that's the one you're seeming most upset about."

Gen suddenly was reminded that his other hand still remained between her legs. Glancing over at the Master her eyes were wide, almost pleading with him to explain what was going on.

The Master turned his attention back to Jonathan. "My old friend, perhaps it's time you stop molesting poor Genevieve in my library."

Genevieve found herself sighing in relief.

The Master continued, "If memory serves, you can do far better than merely pining a girl to a wall and pawing at her like a raging hormones riddled school boy. Perhaps we should move this little party to a more suitable room."

Genevieve let out a little squeak of surprise. Jonathan looked down at her, his grin almost feral.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

The Master stood up straight, an openly lustful expression on his face. "I'd like to watch as you play with Genevieve. You'd be permitted to have her in just about any of the ways you'd like."

Genevieve almost couldn't speak. Almost. "Wait. What?!"

Mischief danced in Jonathan's eyes as he slowly withdrew his fingers from her. "How could I resist an offer as good as that?"

With a wink Jonathan threw Gen over his shoulder, and followed the Master down the corridor. They both pointedly ignored her feeble protests. It was difficult to make a compelling argument when one was tilted upside over the broad shoulder of a man you just met mere minutes ago.

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There are times when we wonder how we ended up where we are. The thought hits us suddenly, unexpectedly. Like a lightening flash across the sky. The night is quiet, and then all at once, it seems whole world is lit up, a blink and the light is gone.

And this how Genevieve found herself. Bound tightly to her bed, stretched out like a star, chewing nervously on her lush lower lip as she wondered just how exactly her day took such a turn for the unexpected.

Sure, she could remember how the timeline happened. Flynn.. Jonathan.. whatever his name was... and his bold forwardness.. The Master, and his dark chuckle at the door. Jonathan's smug remark, the Master's shocking suggestion, and just like that being tossed over Jonathan's shoulder, very much feeling like a prize bartered for.

But she was utterly baffled as to how it was allowed to happen. She had only ever been put on display for the Master's guests, and quite infrequently at that.

A throat being cleared knocked Gen from her musings. She glanced towards the Master. He was sitting comfortably in a plush chair angled towards her bed. She was acutely aware that he had a fine view of everything. Of the glistening wet folds between her legs, of her heaving chest, of the blush creeping up her neck, and of Jonathan now only in trousers straddling her waist.

"Genevieve, you should be more attentive to our guest."

Gen's tummy flipped at the Master's mild admonishment. Jonathan reached out and with a single finger turned her head back towards him. He was grinning down at her, expression predatory.

"What if I untied your hands, and demanded you rub yourself to bliss for us?"

Genevieve's eyes widened, concern etched on her face. She glanced over at the Master again, his own face gave no indication of what he was thinking.

"I can't. Please, I can't. I'm.. um.. I'm not allowed."

Jonathan cackled at this, glee dancing in his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at the Master before looking back down at her, his enjoyment of this little revelation obvious.

"I had no idea my friend was so strict with you." He turned back towards the Master, drawling, "Such a cruel man, denying this delicious creature pleasure."

The Master chuckled, shaking his head. "Genevieve is not allowed to give pleasure to herself, it's true. But that doesn't mean she doesn't receive ample pleasure from me. Only me."

Jonathan gasped in mock shock. "Only you? The poor girl. She has no idea what she is missing."

Genevieve was tempted to roll her eyes at the boyish exchange, but was taken off guard by the Master's response.

"Since you're such a dear friend, Jonathan, I'll relax the rules tonight. She may come at your hands as well. I do hope your boasting doesn't write a check you can't cash"

As the two men chuckled together, Genevieve's mind raced. She wasn't sure how to take this. The Master never shared her. Placed her on display, sure, even allowed some guests to touch her at parties... but nothing quite like this. Trepidation coiled tightly in her tummy, giving her butterflies.

With renewed vigor, Jonathan resumed the teasing, probing touch he has used on her in the library. His movements unhurried, and precise. Genevieve strained against her bonds, toes curling from the pleasure of his talented fingers.

As Jonathan teased her, inspecting her folds, intimately exploring her at a leisurely pace, Gen couldn't help the little mewling whines that fall past her lips.

"Such a noisy little thing. One might take it as a sign of indiscipline." Jonathan threw a playful look in the Master's direction.

A sardonic grin tugged at the Master's lips as he shook his head, bemused by his friend's little jab.

"Or perhaps, it means you quite enjoy putting on a show. Is that it? Do you like it when you're tied down seemingly helpless, begging for it like a wanton little slut?"

The combination of Jonathan's filthy words and confident smirk had Gen in a state. Shamed and hopelessly aroused, she wanted to fight. She wanted to shriek her denial, and demand he untie her. She wanted this almost as much as she wanted him to continue. To say indecent things in her ear as he made her dance with pleasure. The warring emotions, Genevieve found, was an intoxicating blend.

Jonathan continued his brazen exploration. His fingers stroking her sopping cunt with arrogant confidence. Suddenly he touched upon that spot.

Pretty pleas fell from her gasping mouth.

"Tell me.. Do you ache for it?"

She fell quiet, internally battling with her embarrassing arousal.

"Is it because you're a good girl and deserve it?"

Humiliation burned in her cheeks at the question. Genevieve shut her eyes, turning from him as much as the bindings would allow, refusing to answer.

At her stubborn silence, he withdrew his fingers, and studied the glistening wetness lingering on them.

She whined at the loss of sensation, feeling caught in a fierce battle of tug o war. Play his game and reap the benefits of obedience at the expensive of dignity? Or cling to her resolve, forfeit pleasure, and quite possibly be punished instead.

Decisions, decisions.

Genevieve felt a sharp thwack on her inner thigh, startling her back into the present moment. She was learning rather quickly that apparently Jonathan was not one to tolerate split focus.

"Perhaps I should take your silence as an indication you'd like my physical affections directed somewhere other than the needy place between your legs. Hm? Is that it, darling?" His fingers trailed her skin, drifting across her stomach, and then higher. Gen's breath hitched.

Jonathan leaned down close to her, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Genevieve leaned up, returning his attentions with vigor. She poured the passion she felt brewing within her into the kiss, leaving Jonathan almost breathless. He drew back, bewilderment and lust in his lingering gaze.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you..." He mused to himself.

Gen looked up at him, smug.

Jonathan tweaked her nose and started to move from his position above her.

"Feeling playful, are we? Then perhaps a little game is in order." Jonathan walked to the bedroom door. "Don't move," He teased, "I'll be right back."

Genevieve tugged slightly against her bonds, watching him walk through the door intently. She grinned in spite of herself. She had decided to leave her trepidation behind her, now only her indignation and arousal remained. It was an interesting blend of emotion, the feeling of being equally aroused and annoyed with Jonathan's arrogant antics.

She peeked over at the Master. He was still watching her, the ghost of a grin still upon his lips. She felt shyness wash over her knowing he was still openly gazing at her naked form stretched out across her mattress. She fidgeted slightly, the silence of the room roaring in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, to say anything at all to try to distract herself from her predicament, when the door to the room burst open Jonathan reappearing with a flourish.

Triumph glittered in his eyes as he shut the door eagerly. Gen noticed there was a small bowl in his hand.

Approaching the bed, Jonathan climbed back on and perched between Genevieve's legs. Tipping the bowl to the side slightly, Jonathan treated Genevieve to a view of what the bowl contained.

"Ice?" Genevieve asked puzzled.

"Ice." Jonathan confirmed. He placed the bowl beside her, and reached in plucking out a cube. "I'm going to nestle this ice cube just on top of the little valley of your belly button. Your job is to make sure it doesn't slide off."

Gen's eyebrows raised. This wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

Jonathan chuckled at her expression. "Just wait, Darling, there's more. I'll be doing my best to make you squirm.. meaning keeping the ice just where it is will be considerably more difficult. Let's call it a little test of your self discipline"

Gen began to chew on her lower lip.

"If you tip the ice cube, I'm going to lift your legs in the air, and give you the kind of spanking only naughty little girls get."

Genevieve swallowed hard. Her cheeks colored as she stared up at the imposing man above her.

Jonathan continued, "You'll plead for leniency. You'll plead for modesty. You'll beg to be allowed to close your legs, while I hold them in the air. But I won't allow it, you see. Because I know the truth. I know how much you like being on display. I know how much you get off on being watched. I know how hard you come when you have a sore, red bottom that everyone can see."

Gen shook her head, eyes closed tight against his words. She didn't want to admit, even to herself, that he had read her like a book.

Jonathan gazed at her, expression revealing confident delight. "Let's see how long you can last." He moved to place the ice on her belly button.

Gen finally spoke. "And what happens if the ice melts before you can make me tip the cube?"

Jonathan paused, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well I suppose that means you'll escape your spanking, little miss." He placed the cube on her. "But I'm not sure I'd hold my breath if I were you..."

His fingers brushed against her thigh, traveling closer and closer to her soaking slit. Genevieve braced herself, waiting for him to renew his exploration of her cunt. It didn't come. Instead his fingers continued up over her hips, spanning her waist and exploring her rib cage. She sighed in satisfaction as she felt his hands cup her breasts. Soon his mouth replaced his fingers in his sensual assault on her skin.