Read Online Another Appointment by Portia Da Costa - Free Book Online

Another Appointment
    “That’s a wonderful piece of writing, Mary-Anne. One of your best, I think… I always liked that premise, but the new touches you’ve added really lift it,” her master said, his beautiful eyes flashing as he lounged against the pillows, black hair all a-tousle against the crisp white linen. He’d been reading one of her stories again, a piece that she’d recently revised and rewritten. Her heart had been in her mouth while he’d silently scrutinized his iPad, his handsome face intent and his reading glasses on the end of his nose. His good opinion of her writing meant the world to her. Perhaps as much as his feelings for her and the delicious games they played.
    Sharing elaborate erotic stories was both their pleasure and their craft, the very thing that had brought them together in the first place. But making them real was their secret thrill; equally as creative, if not more.
    Mary-Anne’s heart thudded. Ooh, the way he was looking at her… Had he taken the bait? Was he game for the challenge? If so… was she?
    “Shall we play it?” he asked softly.
    She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, hell, yes.” She was so excited she could barely get the words out.
    “Very well, then, I’ll have to devise a plan for it, won’t I?”
    “Please do… and the sooner the better.”
    Benedict, her master, laughed, his low baritone voice more husky than usual. Revealingly so… “Are you trying to order me around again, my sweet slave?” His pale blue eyes turned steely behind his spectacles, yet they were still full of warmth. “You know what will happen if you do that, don’t you?”
    I do… Oh, how I do…
    She lowered her eyes submissively. It was the one sure way to hide the gleam of triumph in them.
    There was more than one way of taking charge.
    *** *** ***
    On the morning of the designated day, the day of the appointment, she began her journey. She was dressed exactly as her master had specified: a black satin corset, lace-top stockings, spindle heels. To maintain her modesty, she wore a voluminous trench coat over her lingerie, but following his orders, she hadn’t fastened the buttons, merely crossed it over her body and belted it loosely at the waist.
    I’m just “the slave” now. She tugged the belt slightly tighter, still a little bit of defiant Mary-Anne in her. Just his. His by choice, but subject to his will, nonetheless.
    As she ascended onto the train, her sex quivered even though the journey had barely begun. Apprehension always made her twice as randy as she normally was, and her body quickened at the thought of what was coming.
    Settling into her seat, the slave filled her mind with her master, thinking of his deep, thrilling voice, his narrow, handsome face, and his strong, unremitting arm. She knew his power, which he employed both to punish her rigorously and to embrace her with exquisite tenderness, but she had a feeling that she hadn’t yet experienced his full dominion over her. Perhaps that was the thing that lay ahead of her today—the test, the appointment, the game they’d discussed whilst lying in bed after glorious sex when they were both feeling crazy and even more imaginative than usual. She really believed that he could bring it all about… even if it had been little more than a fortnight since they’d first talked of it, that night after they’d spent a pleasant afternoon browsing in his favorite antique shops.
    The Gothic prie dieu had been the trigger.
    At first they’d discussed the item’s realistic value, its condition, and its merits as a new purchase, all perfectly rational. But then he’d whispered in her ear and told her he’d like to see her bound across that dark wooden prayer stool, her buttocks raised and naked while he whipped her with a strap of well-seasoned leather. The idea had electrified her, made her ache for him, and sent her own mind whizzing into overdrive, teeming with ideas and fantasies. Afterward, in the car, she’d been wet