Chapter Ten - Carabiners and Film -

An hour and another cup of coffee later, Brandy comes to me in my office. She has cleaned up and changed. We adjourn to the playroom for the afternoon… just myself, Brandy, 3 ropes, several carabiners… and a fresh roll of film.

While Brandy sleeps, I peruse the refrigerator and Mrs. Jones list of menu suggestions. I find sliced roast beef in gravy in a Pyrex baking dish with a glass cover. It looks good… I'm perplexed by the array of baking dishes however. I have a good memory… which has served me well when negotiating deals… and I have zero recollection of any of these baking dishes. There is quite the assortment of the glass casseroles. It troubles me. Have I forgotten an apparently major houseware category? I resolve to inquire of Mrs. Jones.

There's a casserole of chicken, mixed vegetables with wild rice that appeals to me. Salad… everything is there to make it.

I wake Brandy when she's slept for an hour. We haven't eaten since breakfast, and I don't deal with hunger well. We will have dinner before I send her home.

After dinner, I take my coffee and retire to my office where I had entertain myself using my marlinspike to untie the numerous knots in the playroom ropes we used while Brandy cleans the kitchen and starts the dish washer. She knocks on my door.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" From her facial expression she recognizes the coils of ropes now on top of my desk.

"Yes, actually."

My submissives are responsible for cleaning and caring for their toys. I provide new intimate toys if I get a new submissive.

I half smile to myself… thinking of where the ropes have been and what bodily fluids might be on them… yes, they need washing. A submissive needs to be assured any ropes in intimate places are as squeaky clean as I expect them to be.

I hold open a big nautical canvas tote bag. Brandy does my bidding and drops the rope coils in the bag and follows me through the double doors to the utility room. Her eyes are large with questions she dares not ask.

"Security room," I say as I stride past the open door. Until this moment, she had no idea this wing even existed. "The service elevator is there and the private rooms of my staff's residence."

Brandy's eyes are moving as she tries to reconcile this new information.

"Mrs. Jones is normally off weekends." I offer.

I lead her into the utility room with its soaking sink. I think she's surprised when I ignore the washing machine. I pour the packet of cleaner into the deep sink and run luke warm water as directed. "Put the ropes in and swish them around by hand."

I step up behind her as she does so. I revel in the proximity of her. I can feel her body heat. I put my hands on her hips, then slide them up to her breasts, cupping them through the bra, feeling for her nipples with my fingers. I feel myself harden as I pull her to me. I grind myself into the cleft of her ass.

"They need to soak ten minutes." We have time to wait. "Lock the door!" I command, releasing her.

As she does so, I glance around the room. The room has new features added since I've been in here. Mrs. Jones' ironing board. A good sized island with a thick butcher block top and drawers underneath and doors on the opposite side. A tall stool of blonde wood with a round top.

Brandy stands facing me, her eyes cast down demurely. I lift her chin, kissing her aggressively, hungrily, pulling her against me. My hands find her hem and then then follow the lines of her shapely legs up to her panties. I slowly work her panties down, alternating sides. She frees her ankles by kicking them off without removing her heels.

I turn her to face the island and push her down on it. She clutches for the opposite side. In an instant I have freed myself from my trousers. I run my head along her wet slit… she spreads her legs. I rub my length against her as she opens for me. With my hands on her hips, forward and back, I slip and slide my length along her wet opening. My belly bangs her round cheeks as my tip rubs her clitoris with each stroke. She's whimpering… crying out… she's building…

I start to count my strokes… one, two, three, four more times, I rub between her lips. Pulling back just enough, I feel her warm entrance and plunge into her. "Oh, yes!" This feels so good.

I buck hard into her. She's pinioned by the butcher block. She whimpers again with each thrust… she's climbing. She tightens around me… I push into her again. Again. And once more. With a cry, she comes spectacularly taking me with her.

I stand for several moments, spent. Mmmm. Fine. Really fine.

Brandy is still clutching the far side of the island. One shoulder is exposed where her dress and bra have slipped down. The skirt of the dress is up around her waist… her lovely ass and shapely legs are fully displayed. Her breathing is even. A contented smile plays on her lips. Her eyes are closed.

Shit! Not again.

"Brandy! Brandy!" I call out to her. I pull out of her.

She opens her eyes. Blinking at me.

"Are you all right," I demand?

"Oh, yes. I was just enjoying the moment."

What? She's forgetting herself. I step back and slap her butt hard with my open hand. She yelps at the sting and would have moved away from it if she could. But she can't. In a minute, a red hand print will be visible; it will disappear in fifteen. It will not bruise. But she will remember.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Sir."

She has used the space I left to move from the island and has swiftly knelt on the floor in the perfect kneeling pose. Her dress is pooled around her waist. It doesn't cover her bare thighs where her hands now rest fingers open, head bowed.

I grab a clean towel off a stack of folded laundry, dry myself off before tucking myself back in place and zipping up.

She's expecting a punishment for her lapse. I did punish her. I think I spanked her hard enough. She will remember it. Besides my mind is racing… again reconsidering her suitability as my submissive.

"Stand up."

She gets up and assumes the standing submissive pose. Her skirt has mostly fallen crookedly into place but she's made no move to fix her top. Most of her chest is still exposed. I put the towel in her hands.

"You can get dressed now."

"The rope has soaked enough." It's been more than ten minutes. "Now rinse in clear water." There is a mesh screen for drying delicates hanging on little brass cup hooks over the sink. I wonder if I've made a mistake by over sharing. My submissive doesn't need to know about staff… nor does staff need to know about my submissive. These pieces of my life need to stay neatly in their own compartments.

I unlock the door.

"I'm ready to go, sir."

I rise from behind my desk and walk with her to the elevator, pushing the call button.

Brandy follows behind me with her small rolling suitcase.

"Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight. I'll see you next Friday."

The elevator disappears and I'm alone.

Brandy is generally an excellent submissive… although I remain troubled by all the drama. Can we get beyond it, I wonder?

I sit at my piano and caress the keys with my fingertips. I explore the opening lines of a few pieces, testing, searching for a classical piece speaks to me tonight.