Never Let Me Go

The leather cuffs on Adam’s wrists, the symbols of his slavery, were barely visible under his fine blue cotton shirt but everybody in the office knew they were there. Almost everyone had a friend of a friend who had tried it, the experience was said to have some very interesting effects on one's life, but no one had the guts to bring up his servitude in casual conversation. And just because it was the newest trend in escapism didn’t mean that it could be discussed nonchalantly at the water cooler.

Adam was the Lead Architect at a large firm in Denver. He was young, he was brash, and he expected architectural wonders from himself and his team on each and every project from schools to high-rises. He was far from over-bearing, but his no nonsense style rubbed the more laid back employees the wrong way, so they were not above some hushed talk when his back was turned.

For his part, Adam enjoyed knowing that the people under him were wondering about his sexual preferences and what emotional needs he was fulfilling. To him it was like being the domineering boss whose wife (it is discovered at the annual Christmas party) pushes him around with authoritative glee. The whole company begins to smile behind their hands when the boss gets pushy, remembering that he has it worse at home. There was just something exciting about his colleagues knowing that when he went home the tables turned.

“Sir, I have Mr. Barnes on the phone for you,” Adam’s secretary said, bursting into his office.

“Uh, thank you, Heidi, could you tell him I will call him back?”

“He has been waiting to talk to you since before your, uhm, vacation, sir,” she reminded him, obviously trying not to look too interested in the real reason for the week of vacation he had just spontaneously taken.

“Okay, I’ll take it.”

“He’s on line three,” Heidi responded and as she left Adam shifted forward in his seat to reach for the phone.

Adam paused with his hand halfway to the phone as he felt his sore bottom shift against his suit pants. But it was the feel of the tiny red satin g-string that he was wearing and how it reminded him of last night that had his cock pressing rigidly against his fly.

After he had made his impulsive choice to give himself to Mistress Lucinda, as he was boldly planting kisses on her feet, she had abruptly walked away and commanded, “Follow me.”

He had obediently risen and followed her to her room. He was quite sure, even in the light of day, that he would have followed her anywhere in that moment, but she had only wanted him to lie face down on her bed, and so he had. His Mistress had deftly tied each wrist and ankle to the corresponding bed post and then she had slipped across his back sitting lightly in the small of his back.

Leaning forward she had whispered in his ear, “Did you think that you would be rewarded for insulting another Mistress in my house?”

Adam had shuddered at the deep rumble of her voice and the warm, sensual breath against his ear.

“I am yours,” he had breathed, without thinking.

"Yes, you are,” she had chuckled softly at him,“But you don’t know what that means yet. You’ve only had a taste of what being mine will feel like.”

Then she had grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head to the right so that she could give him a brutally thorough kiss that had left him breathless.

“I love you,” he had murmured unexpectedly when her lips had abandoned his.

His Mistress had stayed motionless and silent for a long time before saying cautiously, “Even after I punish you for your defiance tonight?”

It had been Adam’s turn to tense and consider what he had gotten himself into. But he loved her, damn it! And what he wanted to give her was not his physical prowess or his impressive earning potential. He wanted to suffer for her and know that she loved him for it. Over the past few days she had taught the sublime joy of pleasing her with his devotion. His heart had been captivated by her bright eyes smiling at him when he had proven that he no longer needed to be tied down and punished for willfulness. And his body had been tamed by her hands tenderly caressing him after he had willingly submitted to her discipline. And then she had taken him to her bed and laid claim to something raw deep inside of him. He would not take it back now.

“Even then,” he replied earnestly, “I will love you even then.”

His Mistress had wordlessly slid off of the bed and moved to the closet where she kept her collection of toys. As Adam had listened to her moving back towards him, he had tried to guess what item she had chosen, and then he had felt the slim length of her wooden cane sliding down his buttocks and along the backs of his thighs. Adam had involuntarily jerked in his restraints.

“Shhh, my pet,” she had said, knowing that he dreaded the searing sting of the cane.

“Only ten,” she had continued, running a loving hand over his trembling bottom, “Ten for defiance. You are too sore for any more.”

Adam winced at the memory and pulled his hand back from the phone. He needed to take this call but all he could think of were those ten slow, deliberate strokes and how she had teased his stinging bottom with the cane between each one. His arousal increased as he remembered his helplessness and the calm surrender that had eventually washed over him. When she had completed his punishment, she had quickly untied him and guided his face between her long, slender legs. He hadn't needed any cues to tell him what was expected and not once had he felt the lash of the long dressage whip that she had used train him. He had settled easily into position, supporting himself on his forearms, and began the delicate contemplation of what had become his place of worship.

Adam's cock grew large as he remembered the taste of her and the sound of her throaty moans. She had come hard, her pelvis jerking up and down in her abandon. He had done his best to remain suckling at her clitoris but it was not permitted to hold one's Mistress down, so he had remained obediently in place as she rubbed her climax against his face.

Adam's erection could no longer be contained by the flimsy underwear that he was wearing. His Mistress had dressed him this morning as he had stood meekly next to her vanity trying not to snatch her up and spill her on to the bed so that he could worshipfully lap at her sweetness as eagerly as he had last night. She had made it difficult for him, telling him to stand naked while she had leisurely gathered his clothes. Then coming to him, she had knelt and kissed the tip his cock before sliding her slick satin panties onto him. After that she had proceeded to make the normally subservient act of dressing a man into a sensual exercise in obedience. When she had finished helping him into the grey suit he had worn to her house for his week of intensive re-education, he felt imprisoned in the restrictive cloth. He had desperately wanted to tear off his suit because being clothed before her felt like being punished, but his desire to obey had outweighed his frustration.

At the door, his Mistress had admonished him to be good and informed him that his contract with her did not include having her as his live-in Mistress as it had with Christine. He was to move in with her and serve her there. Though he had paid extra to have a Mistress in the convenience of his own home, he had agreed immediately, even knowing that this was her way of giving him an opportunity to renegotiate.

Adam suddenly shook his head and smiled to himself. He simply could not get his mind off of her. He shifted deliberately in his chair to feel the string of her underwear tug between his butt cheeks. No doubt that had been her intention behind having him wear them. But he didn't feel feminized. He felt like that pitcher in Bull Durham. He felt like Tim Robbins' character “Nuke” LaLoosh wearing Susan Sarandon’s garter belt and breathing through his eyelids as thoughts of her distracted him from the stress of having to perform.

Adam wanted to be where he didn’t have to think, he could just feel. He wanted to be where his only job was to belong to her.

Adam straightened up and forced himself to pick up the phone. The only way he was going to get through this day was to keep himself buried in work.

“Hello, Tom?”

"Hello, Adam," a female voice purred into his ear.