The Supplicant

He sat quietly behind his desk.

She stood in front of him, hands clasped behind her back, eyes down. Waiting.

Time passed, just minutes, she thought, but they seemed long. She knew, without raising her eyes, that he was watching her. She hoped the dress she was wearing hit the right note of pleasing without trying to seduce.

”Tell me,” he said.

”Yes, Sir.” She kept her eyes cast down submissively. “I feel trapped. Constrained. Not just mentally and not just emotionally, but my body feels it too. Caught, stuck, almost frozen.” She paused, not sure what else to say.

“I see,” he said. “And you are here because?”

Her voice was soft now, this was the hardest part. “I know that you can help me, Sir, if you will. And I am here to ask for your help,” she swallowed hard, “to beg for it if you like.”

There was a pause, she waited, trembling.

“How will you pay for it?” he asked. “What do you offer me?”

She had expected the question, this was an old ritual, and she knew the answer. Her voice was clear and firm now. “I will pay with my service,” she said, “In whatever way pleases you, Sir.”

“Look at me,” he said. Now that permission was given, she raised her eyes, a slight smile lighting her face.

“Good girl,” he said. “Take off your dress.”

She had chosen a dress that would be easy to remove – quickly she slipped it off over her head. As was required, she had worn nothing beneath it. She felt even more naked than ever since even her pussy was bare, carefully trimmed and waxed. She was barefoot. She stood before him, completely exposed, a supplicant before the Master.

”I’ll hurt you, you know,” he said, almost casually. “Pain to bring you back to your body, and pleasure to make you beg for more. I’ll stretch you out and open you up in ways you can’t imagine now.”

“Yes, Sir, please,” she said, although she was trembling again, and her voice shook.

“You’ll obey me,” he said, “Or be punished. And sometimes you’ll be punished even if you do obey. Just for my pleasure.”

“Yes, Sir, please,” she said, her voice more certain now.

She heard the door open behind her and wanted to turn, but managed to resist and hold still. She didn’t see who came in, they came up behind her. She felt hands touch her head and before she knew what was happening she had been blindfolded. Hands on her wrists attached cuffs and she gasped, a collar around her neck and the wrist cuffs were attached to a ring on the collar in front.

She felt overwhelmed and helpless, the ankle bracelets were just a last touch. She swayed and might have fallen, but different hands grasped her and, “Steady,” he said, “steady there little one.” He was in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other grasping her braid in the back, holding it tight, right at the nape of her neck.

“I’m going to claim you now,” he said.

She could barely breathe, but his voice calmed her. He put one hand on her chest, near her collarbone, the other on her back. “Mine,” he said. He waited, just holding her, until he felt her settle under his touch.”

”When you feel my ownership,” he said, “You may say ‘Yes, Sir.’”

And she smiled, “Yes, Sir,” she said.

His hands stroked and explored, but not, she thought, in a sexual way. More like the way you might examine a horse you were buying. Gentle but firm hands, that casually stroked her nipples, squeezed her arms. Hands on her face, opening her mouth, cupping her cheeks in a gesture that seemed so tender it brought tears to her eyes.

But the hands continued, smacked the inside of her thighs lightly, saying, “Open.” Obediently, she spread her legs wider, giving him full access to the cleft between her thighs, where heat was gathering. Much to her disappointment, he did not touch her there, but continued down to her legs and feet. He lifted each foot and examined the bottom as well as the sides. “A little rough,” he said, “But that can be fixed.”

Then, having touched her everywhere except her most private parts, he said, “Open her.”

They made her walk up a couple of stairs, she did not know where she was going or what was going to happen, but they made her sit and then lie back, her legs dangling off the edge of a platform. But dangling only for a moment, because they were lifted, lifted high and pulled back, her ass almost hung over the edge, her legs were fastened to stirrups that held them back over her chest.

She was whimpering, the shock of this sudden exposure scaring her. She felt his thumb thrust in her mouth and began to suck gently. To her surprise, this was quite soothing, and she was bereft when he pulled it away again.

Her nether lips were spread and the inner lips stroked, he commented on the wetness and heat, laughing gently at “what a hot little pussy she is.” His fingers penetrated her abruptly and she cried out – with pleasure. But “quiet,” he said, and someone put a small rubber gag in her mouth, lifting her head to fasten it in place.

Fingers penetrated the narrower entrance as well, and she would have cried out in pain, but she let the gag swallow her cries instead.

And then they released her. They freed her legs first, and helped her sit up. Removed the ball gag and gave her water. They released her hand, admonishing her not to try to cover her body in any way. She did not know who was talking to her, still blindfolded, she thought there were two people, but she was not sure of that.

They helped her stand and walk back down the two steps. One of them, she thought it was a woman, said, ”Shall we take the blindfold off?”

But the other voice, maybe a man, said, “No, there’s no need for her to see.” They led her from the room, and she did not know if the Master was still there or not. The air was cooler in the hallway and she knew there were other people around, because they commented her on as she was led past. “Nice tits,” “spankable ass” and once someone said, “Whoa, wait a minute.”

They stopped then, and strange hands touched her. She might have tried to get away, but she was held quite firmly and, blindfolded, and bound, she could not have escaped anyway. Her back pressed to the wall, a mouth on one nipple, she moaned.

It stopped as quickly as it had begun, leaving her nipple wet and hard, the other nipple feeling neglected. They continued to lead her down the hall, but now she wanted more.

14 thoughts on “The Supplicant

  1. I LOVE your stories, Olivia. There is something about the way you write… I can imagine myself as the protagonist. The way you write emotions, especially desire resonates strongly with me. Looking forward to the next part! XOXO

    Liked by 2 people

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