1. Other Colors -- Ch. 18


    Date: 9/12/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    that you’re fed. I know that you wouldn't want to see him reprimanded." Manipulate much, Monsieur? My lips curled into an uneasy grin. His commandments were far less libertine than I'd expected. I braced myself, all but certain something more sinister was about to be added to his Decalogue. ‘Non habebis deos alienos coram me …’ “Tes désirs sont des ordres, Monsieur,” I murmured. “And last,” his tone fell darker, and I cringed, “I want you to touch yourself, Penny. Three times by tomorrow night.” I think my heart may have missed a few beats. But he wasn’t finished. “But,” he cut in coldly, before I could protest, “you will not come until I call tomorrow. I want to be absolutely clear about this,” he spoke slowly, deliberately, “It pleases me, Penny, to know that you're suffering. I want to hear your desperation when you answer tomorrow. I want to hear pain." My jaw seemed to have frozen itself shut. I felt my fingers tingling, and all the blood draining out of my face. I stood there, pale as a phantom, unable to speak. Suffer. You told him once, Penny, you were afraid not to suffer. I blushed. Parfait idiot. Venus of Urbino. I clasped my fingers into a fist. Rose petals in one hand... “Do I make myself clear, Miss Foster?” Straining to move the muscles of my cheeks and chin, I answered, “...as glass, sir." “Good girl,” he rasped; his voice rough as sandstone, “Until tomorrow, then.” “Yes, sir,” the knot in my throat nearly choked me. “Tomorrow.” “Sweet dreams.” With that, ...
    the line went silent. Like far-off thunder, his last words rumbled heavily in my ear. I staggered back against the desk, still clutching the phone, and my hands trembled a little as I lowered it onto the cradle. I folded them tightly, attempting to smother the tremor, and glanced at my dim reflection in the window. Stay in. Stay fed. Staring, still stunned, I recited his five commandments in my head. Read something. Paint something. I shivered, though my cheeks and chest were on fire. And then? It was cruel of him. Had he said it out of the blue, I could have been indignant. I could have scoffed at him, and called him a pervert. But my untimely petit mort provided precedent. He was asking only as much as I'd already accidentally given him. I shook my head, still blushing fiercely, and turned away from the window. I gazed once more to his monstrous bookshelves. ‘ And thy commandment all alone shall live ,’ I stepped closer, setting the ball of my foot on the bottom rung of a sliding brass ladder, and hoisted myself up, 'within the book, and volume of my brain .' Alright. My hands quivered as I climbed a bit higher. Seriously, the Hamlet has to stop. Just a few steps from the top, I finally peeked between the rungs, and by what I saw there, I could not have been any less ‘enthralled’. His shelves were littered with the likes of Jung, Kinsey, and Kraft-Ebing, mingling with a lot of bloodless monographs on geophysics, and crystallography. I scowled, and drew my mouth to one side, ...
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