The True Measure of Love Ch. 02

PREVIOUSLY -- Jonathan comes home from work to discover that Jasmine, the love of his life, has been kidnapped. He receives a phone call from her abductor and walks to a nearby motel where he is also captured. Mistress Cassandra introduces herself and tells Jon that unless he submits to her whims, he will never see Jasmine again. Faced with that awful prospect and his own mounting desire for Cassandra, Jon agrees to wear the mistress' collar.

***

I lay face down and naked on the carpeted floor of a room that I guessed was devoid of most furnishings, judging by the echoes. A length of opaque silk had been fashioned into a very effective blindfold for me, while a wad of silk sealed behind a leather muzzle kept my contemplations silenced. The collar around my neck limited my head movement slightly but was not overly tight. I squirmed slightly, listening to the creaking of leather ankle and wrist cuffs and hand mitts mixing with the dull jingles of padlocks and metal hardware that imprisoned my limbs. A cord had been looped between my ankles and wrists, hogtying me.

I guessed that the journey from the hotel where I had been abducted by Mistress Cassandra to this place had taken a half-hour, mostly spent in the trunk of a luxury car. Someone had gone to the trouble of carefully padding the floor of the trunk. The ride to this place had been smooth and lacking in any sort of auditory landmarks as the classical music from the car's stereo system covered all but the rumble of the wheels on the pavement below. I truly had no idea where I was -- or where Jasmine was, for that matter.

I stiffened as I heard the voices of two women outside the door. Then I heard a doorknob being unlocked and turned, feeling the gentle rush of air the opening door made across my naked skin. Something large was set upon the floor of the empty room, followed by two smaller items. The door closed again, but I could feel that whoever had entered the room still remained. There was a scent in the air, familiar and comforting. It took me all of three seconds to place it.

JASMINE!!

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed in hushed tones as she crouched down next to me, her shaking fingers untying the knot of silk that made the blindfold fast to my head. And then I could see her beautiful green eyes regarding me with maternal concern. She helped me to my knees and then threw her arms around me, clutching me tightly. I buried my face in her long, dark tresses, tears streaking my cheeks in relief that she was all right.

It was only when she released me several long moments later that it dawned on me that she was also naked, adorned with wrist and ankle cuffs of leather and a collar with a metal ring mounted on it under her chin. Jasmine was oblivious to my observations as she quickly assessed my bonds. She undid the cord between my ankles and wrists, and spent a few moments working some feeling back into my calves and feet with her warm hands as I lay on the floor again.

I looked around as she worked and saw that a wooden straight chair had been brought into the room. Two bottles of water had been placed next to it. The room was painted beige brick about twenty feet on a side and about half that high. There were no windows and just a single heavy wooden door. The upper portions of the walls held a number of small fixtures for low-wattage indirect lighting of the room. Above me was a small air vent and a functional-looking ceiling fan.

The room also had a number of metal hooks and eyelets mounted at various heights along the wall opposite the door. At the wall toward my feet was a mounted pegboard holding multiple coils of rope of various lengths, mounted containers for metal clip links and padlocks, gags, blindfolds, leather straps with metal buckles, hoods, paddles, floggers and many other items that I could not readily identify. The wall toward my head had a large wooden wardrobe cabinet that was closed.

My gaze returned to my lovely lady, somehow more desirable than I had ever seen her -- her nakedness enhanced by the leather fetters and collar she wore. Her glossy, ebony tresses cascaded in loose waves down her shoulders as she moved, the ends tickling the swell of her breasts. Her barren hips and buttocks moved in pleasing ways as she checked me over, and I felt the familiar longing for her, accentuated by the bonds that kept me from touching her at all.

Jasmine happened to glance down at my privates and smiled at the stirrings of an erection. The smile quickly faded, though. "I love you too, sweetheart," she said softly to me, "but you need to be a good boy for Mistress Cassandra now." She planted a warm, lingering kiss on my forehead and then hastily retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.

I squeezed tears from my eyes as I realized that I was alone again -- somehow more alone than I had been before Jasmine's visit. "What the hell is going on?" I murmured into the wadding of my gag. I thought Jasmine had been kidnapped, but if that was true, then why hadn't she fled? And why would I have to be a good boy for Cassandra if Jasmine seemingly wasn't in danger?

My musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, just before it was opened. My breath caught as I saw her again -- my captor had returned.

Mistress Cassandra's crimson tresses drawn tightly behind her head in a bun, held in place by a pair of large, lacquered hair pins. She had put on more dramatic makeup, emphasizing contrasts of light and shadow on her face. Her lipstick was blood-red, her blue eyes were framed in black and blue shadow, and her blush was a glorious rose. Gone were the blouse and skirt, revealing a black satin corset with blood red trim and edged in feathery lace. A pair of keys dangled just above the swells of her exposed cleavage on a gold necklace chain.

The motif continued with her garter belt that held up sheer, glossy black stockings. Her silk thong panties also copied the style, worn over the garters. Her feet were clad in sandals with stiletto heels, an intricate set of black patent leather straps winding sinuously around her feet and ankles to end in small brushed silver buckles. Her hands and arms were sheathed in red satin opera gloves, with black wrist cuffs buckled over them.

She smiled as she regarded me, like a mantis regarding its prey. "Hello slave," she said softly. "It's time to begin your servitude." She plucked the keys from her breast, removing the necklace in the process as she strode over to me. I watched the highlights dance on her stockings, hearing the intoxicating whisper they made as her thighs glided past each other. I felt desire stirring in me again as I watched, coming unbidden as if she could somehow conjure it at a whim.

"Get to your knees," she said. I quickly struggled to comply, grunting with effort against the creaking leather bonds that held me. She was close now -- my eyes level with her crotch. I looked up and saw her dangling the keys on the chain. I inhaled that exotic perfume she wore as she stood there, contemplating me.

"You've had that gag in place for over an hour," she said as she reached down with a free hand to gently brush my cheek with her gloved fingers. "Jasmine tells me you enjoy being gagged, and I must say I like seeing you that way as well." Her smile was a wicked tease and I could feel my body responding to her.

"But I suppose you are thirsty," she added. "Would you like me to remove it now?" I nodded. She stooped to slot the key in the padlock, touching my naked shoulder gently with her stocking-clad thigh. The sensation was electric, blood-warmed silk against my skin. She paused to caress my shoulder blades, my body shuddering in surprise at the contact. My eyes closed as the contact continued for a moment, and I exhaled softly, relaxing slightly. "That's better," she murmured above me.

The key rasped inside the padlock. "You still do not have my permission to speak," she warned as she worked, "so remain silent." The lock popped open and she removed the muzzle. "Spit out the wadding to the side for now," she said and I complied, running my tongue around the inside of my mouth for a moment as I watched her.

She strode over to the pegboard and hung the muzzle by its buckle on one of the hooks. I drank in the fluid, sexual motion of her hips as she walked -- a practiced motion, I realized, like the catwalk strut of a clothing model. She made a quick glance over her shoulder, just to check that I was watching, and her eyes closed seductively as her smile got wider. My heart was already pounding in my chest, a mix of uncertainty and desire fueling its quickened pace.

She went over to the chair and sat, picking up a bottle of water and crossing her legs. She pointed to a spot on the floor next to the chair. "Come here," she said. I struggled to comply, inching across the carpet on my knees while fighting the bonds on my ankles and being careful to maintain my balance with my wrists still locked behind my back. Cassandra's shining eyes told me she was enjoying my hardship as she watched my progress.

When I finally arrived several moments later, she looked at me. "Would you like some water, slave?" I nodded. She removed the cap and set the bottle on the floor beside me. "Don't spill any," she cautioned. It took me a moment to reposition myself so I could grasp the neck of the bottle with my teeth and drink.

As I did so, I felt the fingertips of her gloved hand gently brush my ribs. My teeth locked in a death-grip on the bottle's neck as my body trembled at her touch. "Good boy," she said as she continued the contact, running her hand down to my hips and buttocks. "I see why Jasmine adores you," she commented. I carefully returned the half-full bottle to the carpet and looked back at her.

"Face me, slave," she said. As I complied, her hands played across my chest, lingering over my nipples and collarbones. One of her hands found my cheek as she looked at me with an expression of tenderness. "I know you have many questions, Jonathan," she said, "and they all will be answered eventually. But for now, you must endure my attentions -- for Jasmine's sake."

"However," she continued, "since you've been a good boy so far, I will answer the most pressing one. You have realized by now that Jasmine's 'kidnapping' isn't real." She fingered the keys on her necklace again as she spoke. "That's because she has worn my collar for nearly four years. She has belonged to me all that time, the same way you belong to me now."

"But now Jasmine wants to own you, Jonathan."

That took a moment to sink in, but when it did I could feel my blush returning again as I smiled slightly. "Yes," said Cassandra, "and because I own her, I have the right to accept or reject her decision. If I accept, then I remove my collar so she can place hers upon you. However, if I reject it, her relationship with you will end."

I couldn't stop from shaking my head, trying to deny that Cassandra had such power over the woman I loved. Her hand found my chin and held it still. "It's true," she said with some emphasis. "That's why she's wearing my collar and going around naked right now, instead of trying to escape. Her nakedness and collar remind her of her position and the power I have over her -- and you."

She swatted my rump with a gloved hand for emphasis, and I jumped. It hadn't been hard enough to hurt, but she now had my full attention. "Make no mistake, Jonathan," she said slowly, "Jasmine is very special to me -- as she is to you, no doubt. But she loves you more than she has ever loved another man. Since I care so very much for her, I have to make sure you are the right man for her. And for your sake and hers, so do you."

I met her gaze and nodded. And it registered in her eyes I would do whatever it took to be that man for Jasmine.

She stood and looked down at me. I felt the now familiar longing for her again, the sexual desire that came unbidden at her feet. "You have potential, slave," she said as her smile returned, "but the journey is only just beginning."