Never Let Me Go

Lucinda stared at the invitation in her hand but she was no longer reading the words. Nor was she aware of Adam dutifully collecting the rest of the red rubber balls that had been left strewn about the room once her students had left. If she had been watching him, she would have appreciated the sight of him moving with practiced ease on his hands and knees, collecting each ball delicately in his mouth before bringing it to the basket at her feet. Instead, she gazed with unfocused eyes at the provocatively red card, inhaling and exhaling in slow, controlled breaths.



Having found the last ball, Adam crawled back to where Lucinda sat on her beloved Louis XV sofa and nuzzled against the hand that she was resting on her thigh. Lucinda jumped slightly and, putting the invitation down, turned her head to look at him just as he shoved his head under her hand, then lifting the ball in his mouth to press against her palm.



“You don’t even like to play fetch,” she chuckled, Adam’s playfulness bringing back her humor.



Adam snorted and pressed the ball more firmly into her hand. Taking the ball, she held it up on the tips of her fingers and arched an eyebrow at him, but Adam had is eyes firmly fixed on the ball. Instead of throwing it, Lucinda leaned down and placed the ball in the basket with the others. Adam watched the ball intently all the way down and then lifted his head to give her a disappointed frown.



“We’ve played enough today don’t you think?” She said, trying to suppress a smile at the way he had insinuated himself into the afternoon lesson and possessively snapped up any ball that she had thrown. She didn’t think that any of the other slaves had had the wherewithal to notice his antics, given their own states of mild panic over pleasing their Mistresses, but she’d seen the women exchanging glances of amusement.



“If someone is going fetch for you, it’s going to be me.” Adam grinned at her.



“Apparently,” she quipped with a saucy smirk and, picking up the rest of the mail that had been sitting on the couch next to her, she began to riffle through it.



Adam turned and crawled over to the end of the sofa where Lucinda kept a basket filled with blankets while she pretended to ignore him. He removed the first few layers until he found her knitting supplies hidden underneath. Then he extracted her current project, a cable knit scarf, and brought it to her, placing it on her lap with great care, making sure not to drop any of the loops off of the needles. That done he curled up at her feet and gave a sigh of lazy contentment, happy to lay there and listen to the tinkling of the metal needles as she worked.



Lucinda had punished him severely the first time he had discovered her knitting and brought it to her. He had pulled the needle out completely and lost her several rows of work. But later as he had abased himself penitently before her, his body still singing the last notes of pain, she had picked up the remnants of the sweater, found her place and begun to lose herself in her task. Even from his position, Adam had realized how much the simple diversion relaxed her and he began to suspect that the keen edge of her temper had really been unsheathed because he had discovered her secret hobby, a pastime that did not befit a woman of her reputation. Two days later, Adam had defiantly brought the sweater to her again and after a long look into his eyes, she had accepted it, giving him a quick peck on the lips. After that Adam had begun to bring her current project to her whenever he thought she needed a mental break.



“What does the card say?” He asked after allowing enough time for a familiar homey calm to begin emanating from her.



Lucinda stopped mid-purl and after a pause responded, “It’s an invitation.”



“To what?”



Lucinda dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. “To the Annual Gathering.”



“Oh, another gathering,” he said, pronouncing it uninteresting in the way only a slave completely comfortable with public performance could.



“No, this is the Annual Gathering, only the highest level Mistresses and their slaves are invited,” she replied with an anxious shake of her head.



“You deserve the invitation, love,” Adam offered tenderly.



“You don’t understand,” she said urgently.



At this Adam lifted himself up and turned his torso so that he could see her, concern finally creeping into his mind.



“I will be expected to share you,” Lucinda blurted out, “Pass you around.”



Her jealous displeasure made Adam\'s heart swell in his chest and a broad smile grew on his face as Lucinda looked at him, desperate for reassurance. She sometimes bore his love uneasily still, the way one wears a dress that has never fit quite right. She was always afraid to stretch it too much or it might no longer fit at al, to call on the man instead of the slave and ask for protection rather than obedience.



“A Mistress may do what she likes with her slave,” he told her with a knowing look. "Her favorite toy," he added. Then laying back down he told her, “There is nothing to worry about.”











When they arrived at the palatial mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean several weeks later, Adam watched his lovely Lucinda become the Mistress he worshiped before his very eyes. He had stopped the car and turned to her with a conspiratorial grin which was immediately wiped from his face by the intense look in her eyes. Adam had dropped his gaze and dutifully gotten out of the car to get her doo and then followed her lead to the front door of the house.



After the butler had let them in to the echoing entryway, he had taken them up a grand marble staircase to a cozy bedroom at the far end of a long hall way. Then he had left them, saying that the festivities would begin in the ballroom in fifteen minutes. Lucinda had had them arrive late by design, wanting to skip the competitive game that was played amongst the slaves serving their Mistresses at table and make themselves only available for the mingling that followed.



Adam stood submissively in the middle of the room awaiting Lucinda’s first command but it never came. After staring at the floor for several minutes, she approached him and stripped him herself, taking off his clothes, collar and the leather cuffs that he always wore on his wrists. She replaced the cuffs, ornaments that he had worn proudly, with a thin, black silk cord which she had expertly woven around his wrists and tied, binding them firmly together. Then after changing into a long black silk dress and checking her makeup, she beckoned him to follow her and led him to the large ballroom in which the Mistresses and slaves were gathering.



When Lucinda made her entrance, she was quickly greeted with hugs, kiss, and lighthearted teasing about her tardiness by the assembled Mistresses. Nervous slaves crawled forward to press their lips to her bare feet after their Mistress had greeted her, while Adam did his best to do the same with grace and style to those Lucinda greeted. A slave never lavished too much of his affection on another Mistress but any impoliteness was a disgrace to his own.



Once the welcome was completed, Lucinda chose long couch and, after sitting down, she abruptly commanded Adam to lay across her lap with his back arched over her thighs. After he had obeyed, she stretched his bound arms over his head and then produced another length of black silk and tied ankles together. Then after fondly caressing his balls, she tied yet another piece of silk cord loosely around them and began lazily stroking his body, occasionally toying with his now aching cock. Adam’s eyes dropped closed and his muscles rippled involuntarily as his body responded to her touch.



Adam heard the sounds of polite female conversation begin but he could not make out the words. His attention was irrevocably focused on the feel of her fingertips playing across his skin and the tight pull of the silk cords on his wrists and ankles. The smooth and elegant cords, so thin that he might have been able to break them, made him feel more naked and vulnerable, weakened by her touch to the point that he only required such delicate restraint. Adam imagined the picture that he must make, stretched across her lap, his hips lifted up towards her by her thighs, tied up like a package ready to be opened, a package begging to be opened. He shuddered and began emitting desperate moans as respectfully as he could, pleading for mercy but knowing that it was his place to suffer.



It had been an eternity since Lucinda had last allowed Adam sexual release. Somewhere in his rational mind he knew exactly how many weeks, how many days, how many hours it had been, but his body only felt agonizing need. His orgasm belonged to her and it was normally her custom to claim at least one from him each day, glorying in how obediently he awaited her command no matter how she teased him. He knew that Lucinda enjoyed watching his body’s wild climax and the soft trembling of its aftermath. She had told him once that his orgasm was an act of sacrifice performed in a state of utter abandon. It was the ultimate display of his submission, an offering of himself that he could not take back. But she had also told him that sometimes a supplicant must fast and pray before his offering is worthy of being accepted. He was that supplicant now, praying that he was finally worthy, holding nothing back in his beseeching display.



Then suddenly Lucinda’s hand left him and Adam groaned in shameless despair. For a torturous moment, he thought that his opportunity to please her had ended, that he would be denied again, but then he heard her voice ring out in delighted laughter. She said something in a chiding tone, presumably to the person who had made the joke, and then her hand, still shaking a with her continued amusement, rested on him again.



Adam’s torment began anew, gentle fingers tracing lines of fire across his body and then taking a mocking grip on his straining cock, abandoning him before the pleasure pushed him over the edge. It was then at his safe word materialized in his head. Always. He had changed it after Lucinda had agreed to let him stay. She had told him it was too common a word but he said he didn’t care, he never intended to use it. And he never had, even in his darkest moments, when tears of pain and shame were falling freely from his eyes, the word had never crossed his mind. But now he wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs. ALWAYS!



“Adam,” he heard her call his name but all he could do was moan pitifully.



“Adam,” she said again and his eyes flew open, catching hers in their wild stare.



“Get up,” she told him, “I have untied your ankles.”



Adam obeyed by rote more than by his own will and stood before her. As he looked down at her, Lucinda dropped her eyes to her lap and fidgeted with a fold of her dress.



“Mistress Lisa and, uh, a few others are going to take you to play with,” then suddenly raising eyes to his, she added, “I expect you to behave.”



A soft ripple of delight sounded from behind him and Adam could do nothing but stare at her in disbelief. She didn\'t have to do this. They both knew that she could claim him as her treasured plaything and stomp her feet like a spoiled child when others tried to take it away. The other Mistresses would accept it, especially if they put on a good show for them.



Adam searched Lucinda’s face but when he saw no hint that she might relent, he bowed his head and turned, allowing what felt like dozens of hands to grab onto him and lead him away from her.







To be continued...