The Story of Mallory Ch. 08bySAWade1968©
Over the next several months, Mallory did her best to predict Kyle's mood and stay one step ahead of her Master. She discovered that his sexual desire was much the same as it had been in their marriage pre-split; it waxed and waned. The collar around her neck every night did little to strengthen his cravings for her; in fact, the sight of the collar appeared to aggravate him sometimes.
As per his request, Mallory came to him every night while he sat at his desk; she sat nude, legs spread apart, enticing him to want her, leash in one hand, collar in the other; begging to be put to bed. He would glance at her over his shoulder, something in his eyes always made her quickly cast her eyes downward, nervous to look at him, to meet his gaze. She longed to flirt with him, to flutter her eyelashes and beg him to take her right there on the floor; she ached to be wanted. Sometimes he would sigh deeply; irritated at having his video game or bill-paying disturbed, other times he would ignore her for half an hour at a time.
Finally, he would turn to her, annoyed, "Well, what are you waiting for?" he would say, "Get over here." Mallory would quickly move closer, lifting her hair for him to place the collar around her throat. She would then crawl into the sheets as he would attach the leash to the collar and then to the bed.
"Good night, Master," she would say obediently, "do you think you will be coming to bed soon?"
"No, just go to sleep," his typical response never failed to hurt her no matter how many times she heard it. She always knew she had a higher sex drive than he did, but she honestly thought this new relationship was going to elicit more of a sexual response from him.
Mallory often buried her head in pillows to block out the light from the computer monitors until he came to bed, sometimes crying softly into them so she would not be caught.
When Kyle would come to bed, she would reach up to the collar, feeling the soft, smooth leather against her skin, feeling her submissive side, knowing she wanted to please him. "Master, is there anything she can do to please you tonight," she would whisper into his ear as she rubbed her body against his, hoping for a positive response.
"Not tonight, Mal," her heart would sink at the words, as she strained against the leash, almost wishing it would dissolve, "maybe later in the week."
She was becoming frustrated with her position in the relationship; she could see what Kyle was getting from being the Master. He was in charge of everything in the household; he made all of the financial decisions, there was no arguments over where they would go for the weekend, they stayed home, his choice, she did all of the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and all within his budget. Mallory did not argue with him about any of his decisions, and if she did, he could take out his aggression on her by whipping her or taking away something she enjoyed.
Mallory was confused about what she was getting out of the relationship. She was happy to wear the collar at night, and to be leashed to the bed, but she was starting to question what it meant. She enjoyed calling Kyle "Master", but she wanted it to mean something, she wanted to feel, she wanted him to feel something. She yearned to be able to communicate with him.
One night over dinner, Mallory finally screwed up enough courage to speak to him, "Master, may she please speak to you?" she asked quietly just as she was finished clearing the table. She had tried to gauge his mood, intending to select a moderately good disposition and not start an argument.
"What, Mal?" he said, flatly; she was unable to determine his temperament.
"Well, uhm..." she stammered, intending to change her mind and back out of any discussions tonight.
"What is it?" his tone became demanding, irritated, less flat. "Spit it out."
Eloquent, she thought. "It's just that, well, I uh..." she was having a difficult time figuring out exactly what it was she wanted to say. What was I going to say, she thought. That I changed my mind? I don't want to be a slave anymore, but I desperately do.
"Look, Mal," he was terribly maddened now, she could see it on his face, he leaned forward, his fists doubled up, "If you have something to say, say it. If not, don't waste my time. I'm going upstairs."
He left her alone in the kitchen to finish cleaning the dishes.
Mallory thought about what she had started to say; she determined she wanted to talk to Kyle notwithstanding his outburst and his mood tonight. She could not keep going through the motions this way; she was beginning to feel like a zombie, completely dead on the inside, and not much better on the outside.
Kyle was sitting at his desk when she went upstairs; bills were neatly organized by their due dates, he was paying some by check and had some accounts open online paying them through bill pay. She was apprehensive about interrupting, but thought, it's now or never, Mal.
Sitting on her knees beside the desk, Mallory sat quietly for a moment, hoping he would pay attention to her on his own. When he appeared not to notice her, she began, "Master, can I talk to you now, please?"
Without turning around, he responded, "Sure, Mal, carry on your bitch session from downstairs. I'm sure you have some complaint about me."
Drawing in a deep breath to keep from crying, Mallory continued, "No Master, I do not intend to complain. I simply want to communicate with you. I am starting to have some trouble with how things are going between us."
"Mm hm," he said by way of a response, as he looked more closely at one account.
"I am not saying I do not want to be your slave," she explained, "I just don't understand what I am supposed to be getting out of this relationship." Her hand instinctively went to her neck, feeling the smooth skin where the collar would be later on that night.
"Uh huh," Kyle mumbled, still not turning around.
Mallory was uncertain if she should continue, she paused, waiting to see if he noticed. He turned around when he detected the silence, glaring at her. She resumed her oration, "I like the collar, the leash, and the times we have sex..."
As her voice trailed off, she knew immediately she said something wrong. Mallory sank down onto her feet, wishing she could pull the words out of the air and shove them back into her mouth. Kyle turned sharply in his chair, "So, this is about sex, is it?" he questioned, "I should have known that was your issue, same as before."
As the reality of Kyle's misunderstanding of their relationship issues set in, Mallory heard his next words as if she was in a fog, "If you want more sex, then I have a challenge for you," his face lit up with an eerie smile, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, a cross between a smile and a sneer.
"Yes, Master," Mallory sat back up on her knees, eager to listen to his challenge, willing to do anything to please him. She let go, at least momentarily, of the fact he had utterly mistook her grievance regarding her place in the relationship.
"I want you to start flirting with guys at your work, any guy; from the janitors, the shop workers, up to the President," he instructed. "You are to seduce somebody there and bring him home; I want to watch him fuck my little slut. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Master," she answered, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
If he perceived anything in her tone, he did not comment, "Oh, and Mal, don't do anything to jeopardize your job, though."
Oh, you think? she thought to herself.
Kyle turned to finish paying the bills, almost as if he had forgotten that she was still sitting there, "Oh, are we done here?"
"Yes, Master," Mallory started to get up off of the floor.
"Good, then go finish cleaning the kitchen."
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity for Mallory, she started to blossom, at work. It started innocently enough when a shop floor employee asked her for help with running his payroll numbers. She had never even noticed him before, but when he came into the office that Monday morning, they began flirting and made excuses to see each other every day after.
"Hey, Mal," the tall lanky brunette called as he approached Mallory's cubicle clutching a stack of paperwork, "Can you help me with this paperwork?"
"Really, Ryan?" she eyed him, pretending to be suspicious; "This is exactly like what I showed you yesterday. Are you sure you can't figure it out?" She giggled girlishly as she pulled the extra chair up to her computer so he could sit down.
"Thanks, Mal, you're the greatest," he smiled nervously at her, scooting so close to her his knee brushed against hers under the desk.
They worked together for over an hour, giggling, talking, laughing, and actually completing the payroll assignment. "Well, I guess that's it until next week," Mallory sighed, hating to see him leave.
"Maybe I'll need help with something else," Ryan winked as we walked away.
Every day after, Ryan stopped by Mallory's desk with one inane question after another; some days it was simply to borrow her Chapstick or ask if the paychecks would be on time that week. Mallory was just as flirtatious, she would often walk by his area of the shop, inventing reasons to speak to him or others in the area just to get a glimpse of him.
After flirting with him for a few weeks, she was feeling better than she had in a long time; she was receiving attention without any negative feelings attached to them. When the collar was placed around her neck each night, it felt like it got heavier each time; she felt guilty.
One night, Kyle climbed into bed with her after their nightly ritual; he began rubbing her breasts as he began to talk to her, "So, have you been flirting with any men at work?"
Instantly, her mind flashed to Ryan; she thought of all of the flirting, how much fun she was having with him, and how easy it was to talk to him. She answered honestly, "Yes, Master."
"Hmmm," he moaned a little, clearly interested, "Tell me more."
"Well... uhm..." she was buying time trying to think what she should say.
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes starting to show the signs of anger.
"Oh, Master," she lied, "nothing, I'm just a little embarrassed."
"Don't be embarrassed, slut," he demanded, "Just tell me."
"Okay," she bit down on her lip, trying to think of what to say, "I have been flirting with several men."
"Oh, very nice," he rubbed her thigh, then right between her legs.
Mallory continued her lie as she thought of Ryan; she continued talking, telling Kyle of how she flirted shamelessly with several men in the office and the shop, she told him how they responded, flirting back. She rationalized it was mostly not lying since it was all true of Ryan.
The more she talked about flirting with the other men, all of whom were Ryan, the wetter she became, and the more aroused Kyle was. His breathing became heavier and he rubbed her more vigorously, sliding his fingers inside her. She started to describe how she wanted to bring one of them home, Ryan, and what she would like to do to him.
"You're quite the little slut, aren't you?" he asked her.
"Yes, Master," she thought of Ryan the whole time, wanting to escape and run away with him.
Unexpectedly, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her down to his cock, ramming it down her throat, "Is this what you want? You want another man in your throat like this?" He asked as he began to fuck her throat.
Mallory went numb as she thought of Ryan, pictured sucking his cock, of slowly, gently, taking him into her throat, of looking into his eyes, lovingly stroking his thighs...
Kyle continued to roughly slide his cock in and out of her mouth, asking her questions she could not answer with her mouth full, pulling on the leash to tighten the collar. Mallory was choking and gagging her responses as best she could.
When he was ready to cum, Mallory pulled at his thighs, trying to pull him closer to her, wanting to swallow him, to please him, he pulled out and came all over her exposed breasts, leaving her feeling empty.
Abruptly, he got out of the bed leaving Mallory waiting, wondering if he would be back to continue their session, or to go to sleep. He returned a few minutes later carrying a glass of water; swallowing deeply, he put the empty glass on the bedside table, sat on the bed, looked at Mallory, and said, "Scoot over, you got the bed wet here, did you cum?"
Mallory glared at him as she scooted away from him; she slid as close to the wall as she could, covering her head with a pillow, blocking out this life.
She fell asleep and wondered if she should run away from Kyle and her ideas of being a slave.