Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
M elissa
My eyes went wide and I felt my face flush hot. “I… what?” I stammered.
Stuart’s eyes narrowed. “Did I stutter, Miss Mitropoulos? Go. Now.”
I swallowed hard and stood on shaky legs. As I made my way to the ladies’ room, I felt Stuart’s eyes burning into my back. My mind seemed completely unable to process the sheer lewdness of his command.
The tiny bathroom was private, thankfully. I locked myself in, my heart pounding. With trembling hands, unable to keep myself from looking in the mirror, I hitched up my dress and bent my knees, blushing fiercely as I spread them, to give myself access to my already embarrassingly wet pussy. I looked so wanton without my panties, my smooth, bare lips framed by the garter belt, the suspenders, the tops of the white stockings.
As soon as I touched myself, just brushing my fingertips over the cleft of my sex, I couldn’t help but picture it. I saw it in my mind’s eye, even as I watched my hand’s obscene movement in the mirror, down between my thighs… exactly what Stuart had ordered me to imagine—his thick cock… in me… in me there … stretching me… opening my virgin asshole. I imagined him bending me over, spreading my cheeks, pressing the blunt head of his penis against the tight, wrinkly bud. The image made me whimper softly as I circled my clit.
Apparently helpless now to do anything but obey, I brought myself right to the edge, my thighs trembling like blown leaves and my hips thrusting lewdly as if I had a cock in me. Just as I was about to tumble over into orgasm, I forced myself to stop. I bit my lip hard, fighting against the urge to finish. After a few deep breaths, I started again.
By the third time I’d edged myself, I was a quivering mess. My pussy ached for release and I could feel my arousal dripping down my thighs and into my stocking tops. The mental image of Stuart taking my ass was seared into my brain. I wanted it—needed it—with an intensity that shocked me.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard Stuart’s voice outside the bathroom door. “Time’s up, Melissa. Come on out.”
On wobbly legs, I exited the bathroom. Stuart was waiting just outside, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned in close, inhaling deeply.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “I can smell how wet you are. Now let’s get you home so I can give you the whipping you’ve earned.”
I shuddered, equal parts terrified and aroused. I searched his gorgeous eyes, not knowing at first whether I wanted to find a shred of mercy or the assurance that he would punish me with the utmost severity.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw both those things, wrapped up in something much greater: understanding. This man had seen all of me—from my love of Gibbon, Carlyle, and Darwin to my obscene, thrilling disciplining of Mandy. He had spanked me, paddled me, fucked me… made me kneel and lick my cunt’s desperate need off his enormous, jutting cock.
He had wined and dined me… charmed me… and then told me to take my panties off at the table. He had promised me a whipping for my reluctance and then made it crystal clear that after he had punished my backside he would fuck me there, too.
All of me. My lips parted, and I felt words building inside me—insane words, from the perspective of the Melissa Mitropoulos of a few weeks before. I love you. Thank you. Let me serve you, on my knees.
Stuart cut them off. He pressed me against the door of the bathroom, and kissed my slightly open mouth, one hand on the back of my neck and the other cupping my bottom as if to remind me of everything that had befallen me there, and would befall me there. To make sure I didn’t forget that I had no panties on, or why I was in that shameful state.
I moaned up into his mouth. I clenched, between my thighs. I knew suddenly that if I squeezed my thighs together, I would…
Stuart’s mouth muffled my cry of helpless pleasure as I came, hard and with an abruptness that overwhelmed me. I shook in his arms like a leaf, my hips thrusting forward, into his stunningly firm thigh, riding him shamelessly, then pushing back so I could feel how firmly in hand my boss, my master had taken me.
I shuddered, and Stuart held me, there in the little corridor, kissing me deeply through my climax. I prayed no one else in Le Jardin Intime needed the restroom. As the aftershocks faded from my limbs, Stuart relaxed his grip and pulled his face back from mine.
“What did you do, naughty girl?” he murmured.
Heat filled my face. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered. “Please…”
The independent version of me, the one who had arrived at that fateful orientation what seemed a lifetime ago, would have stood aghast at how submissively I acknowledged that my orgasm had represented an act of disobedience. That Melissa didn’t seem to be present at the moment.
“Please, sir… I couldn’t help it. Please, don’t…” I couldn’t even whisper the next words; I breathed them, almost silently. “Don’t whip me more.”
“You’re lucky you come so beautifully, little whore,” Stuart said. “I can’t imagine punishing you for something I enjoyed so much.”
The surge of gratitude and… yes, I realized with a crawling, panicky kind of joy, love , I felt as he gathered me into him, away from the door, and walked me out of the restaurant, made me feel lightheaded. The thankfulness grew even stronger at the way he supported my unsteady steps as we walked the short distance to a beautiful old apartment building. I realized with a jolt of apprehension and arousal, as Stuart slowed our pace, that he must live there.
The door opened and a middle-aged doorman stepped out.
“Evening, Mr. Harrington,” he said.
“Nikos, this is Miss Mitropoulos,” Stuart said. “You’ll probably be seeing a good deal of her.”
I felt my cheeks glow, though I felt some hope that in the dim lighting outside the building Nikos couldn’t see my embarrassment. So old-fashioned, to feel judged by a doorman that way, but of course Selecta and New Modesty Blue had put me back in touch with such antiquated emotions.
“Yes, sir,” Nikos said. “Nice to meet you, Miss Mitropoulos. Anything you need, you just let me know.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it, for the warmth and apparent lack of censure in his tone. “Nice to meet you too.”
In the elevator, riding up to the penthouse, Stuart said, “Nikos has been hoping I’d find…”
His voice trailed off. I turned my eyes from our reflection in the elevator doors to look at him. In the mirror of the polished metal I had seen a slightly blurry image of a captain of industry and the junior executive he had turned into his personal fuck toy. Stuart’s face had an expression on it, though, when I could look into the sky blue eyes he turned to meet my gaze, that… well, it didn’t really contradict the dominance of the arm he had put firmly around my waist, but it seemed to layer something else on top.
Wistfulness? Or… affection? His smile broadened a little.
“Well,” he continued, “let’s say he’s been hoping I’d find a girl he’d see a lot of.”
I gulped, my heart rate instantly speeding up to what felt like double what it had been. I felt my forehead crease and I caught my lower lip between my teeth.
“You’re wondering whether there have been many girls Nikos didn’t see a lot of, aren’t you?” Stuart asked, his voice teasing.
“Well,” I started, and then his eyes narrowed slightly, and I remembered. “Sir… well, I…” My thoughts, words, and feelings had intertwined into a mess I didn’t think I could get out of, but Stuart smiled again, and helped me.
“A few,” he murmured. “But I never told Nikos he might see one of them again.”
I had so many more questions… Did they all get whipped? Did they all get fucked in the ass? Did they all…?
Stuart wrapped both arms around me and kissed me, cradling the back of my head in his left hand, his fingers entwined in my hair. I whimpered up into his mouth as the floors passed and his other hand became mobile, holding my ass and then moving further down to gather my skirt, lift its hem until he could put his hand underneath and seize me from behind as his tongue kept dominating my mouth. He forced my thighs apart, two fingers pressing between them to grasp my pussy so that I felt utterly possessed.
Vaguely I heard a bell sound, and then Stuart had to my astonishment gathered me up into his arms and carried me across the threshold of the elevator into the opulent penthouse apartment. He moved straight to the bedroom. My heart pounded with anticipation and nerves. The room was spacious and elegant, dominated by an enormous bed with a dark wooden frame. Stuart set me down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering on my waist as he steadied me.
“I’m going to punish you now, Melissa,” he said, his voice soft but very commanding. “The way a suitor on NMB might punish the girl he’s courting.”
I felt a shiver run through my body at his words. My mind raced with images from the videos I’d seen—young women bent over and spanked, their faces a mix of pain and ecstasy. I watched, trembling, as Stuart slowly removed his belt. The soft whisper of leather sliding through belt loops seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room.
Stuart folded the belt in half, tapping it lightly against his palm. My eyes were riveted to the movement, my breath coming in short, shallow pants.
“Take off your dress,” Stuart commanded.
With shaking hands, I reached for the zipper at the back of my dress. I fumbled with it for a moment before managing to pull it down. The fabric whispered against my skin as I let the dress fall to the floor, pooling around my feet. I stood there in just the bra, garter belt, and stockings that Stuart had sent, a present that a greedy boy hadn’t been able to wait to start unwrapping. I thought of my tiny panties, in his jacket pocket. My hands balled into little fists as I fought to keep them from moving forward to hide the smooth, bare cleft of my much too needy pussy.
Stuart’s eyes raked over my body, his gaze hot and appreciative. I felt my nipples tighten under his scrutiny, and a fresh wave of arousal flooded my core. Again I felt the urge to cover myself, to hide from his intense stare. But a deeper, more primal part of me reveled in his attention, suddenly wanting to display myself for his pleasure.
The first girl he’s told the doorman about. It seemed such an odd thing to feel pride about, but I did.
“Pile two pillows in the middle of the bed,” Stuart instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Then lie over them. I’m going to whip you now.”
My heart raced as I moved to obey, grabbing two plump pillows from the head of the bed. With trembling hands I arranged them in the center, acutely aware of Stuart’s eyes on me. I could feel the weight of his gaze as it traveled over my nearly naked body, lingering on the curves of my breasts and hips, the roundness of my bare bottom, framed by the white suspender straps.
As I bent to position the pillows, I felt the cool air against my exposed sex. I blushed fiercely, knowing Stuart could see how wet I was, how ready my body was for whatever he chose to do to me. I bit my lip as the realization brought a new surge of need thrilling through my pussy.
Once the pillows were in place, I hesitated for just a moment before I climbed onto the bed and draped myself over them. My tummy crawled with fear, and getting my punishment over with suddenly seemed the only available option. I thought of Grace and Georgette, of all the New Modesty girls who learned their lessons this way, corrected by their suitors’ firm hands and stout belts. Over the pillows, my bottom raised and presented for Stuart’s attention, my breasts pressed into the soft bedding, I turned my head to the side, resting my cheek against the cool sheets, and waited.
I heard Stuart move behind me, the soft whisper of his footsteps on the plush carpet. Then I felt his hand on my lower back, warm and steady. His touch sent shivers through my body, and I had to fight the urge to push back against him, seeking more contact.
“You look beautiful like this,” Stuart murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine. “So obedient, so ready for your punishment.”
I whimpered softly at his words, squirming slightly against the pillows. The position pushed my hips up, making me even more aware of my exposure. I could practically sense Stuart’s gaze on my most intimate places.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, thinking of how submissively Mandy had said, Yes, miss , to me. My turn had come around again, to be punished and used, in what suddenly began to seem to me a kind of infinite game.
Stuart’s hand left my back, and I heard the soft snap of leather as he adjusted his grip on the belt. My whole body tensed in anticipation, every nerve ending seeming to tingle with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“I’m going to whip you until I’m satisfied with the state of your backside,” he told me. “There’s no need to count. You were a naughty girl and you didn’t take off your panties when I told you to. Now you’ll learn obedience the hard way.”