A/N: Keep in mind the company that is around you when you read this.

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Not safe for: work, areas with reading-age children, convents, monasteries, public libraries, etc.

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Sorry this took so long to get up. Richard wouldn't obey. Bad, bad boy.

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Yes, that's right...'nibble my biscuit'

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Richard walked up the dark narrow stairwell, his hat clenched nervously in his hand. Each step closer to the door above came with the same thought I can't do this. I shouldn't do this.

But he kept climbing.

Because he wanted to do this. So what if the innocent farm boy in him believed it was a sin. Everything he'd done lately was a sin. What was one more log on the eternal fire of damnation?

He wanted this.

He stood on the top riser, his hand on the doorknob. He could either open the door, walk in, and put himself at the mercy of that frost-eyed bitch, or he could turn around, walk back down the stairs, and go home.

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Part of the attic was dimly lit by small lamps along the wall, although it fell to complete darkness at the far end, and Richard could barely make out any details. He could see her standing in front of the window, her back to him. She was wearing a black corset with black garters that held up black stocking, with black shoes. Her black hair hung down her back in a tight braid, her bare shoulders pulled back squarely. She held something looped in her hands behind her back. Richard felt himself reacting in many ways to the sense of power and confidence she radiated, even as she did nothing but stand there. Richard softly closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off of Cat's back.

"Your nerves nearly got the better of you once or twice across the street." It was a statement said in a tone of absolute knowledge. Richard said nothing, because it was true.

"You need to understand what's going on here tonight. This is about dominance and submission, resistance and surrender. You will feel things you've never experienced. Not only the exquisite pleasure that can come from pain, humiliation, and relinquishing control, but emotions you would never have comprehended. You may not like yourself after this. You may discover things about yourself that you were more comfortable not knowing. Or you may truly discover who you are and flourish for it. I've seen both happen.

"But above all that, you have to trust me. I will inflict pain, but you have to believe that I won't really hurt you. Do you understand the difference?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, I want you to turn around and face the door, and I want you to think about what I just said and decide if you truly want to go through with this. If you don't, leave. I won't think any less of you for it, and you are welcome to visit the house at any time for whatever desire you would like. But if you do want to do this, you will find the first test of how much you trust me on the back of the door. Decide." She fell silent after that, leaving Richard to his thoughts. He turned and looked at the door. There were three hooks on the back of it. One was empty. One had the blindfold she wore the other night hanging from it. The third had an eye patch. He studied them as he decided if he really wanted to go through with this.

Why did he want to? Outside of the lust, of course. Was it to see if he could give himself over to someone? Or was it to see if he was unbreakable? Was he looking for some physical punishment to atone for the sinful things he'd done? Was it all those reasons? Or none of them, but something else entirely? He thought back to that moment in her room last week, when she had gripped his hair and pulled his head back, remembered that strange surge of fear and desire. He wanted to feel it again.

He supposed it didn't matter why he wanted to, only that he did want to. Which brought him to the next decision...how much was he willing to trust her. Was he willing to, literally, blindly put himself in her hands? And if he was, was he willing to completely expose himself to her? He closed his eye, weighed his options, almost agonized by the fear of showing his damaged face to her, but afraid that if he chose to slip the eye patch on and still wear his mask, he would somehow disappoint her, and he didn't want to do that.

He looked back over his shoulder at her. She hadn't moved at all, but she seemed to know he was looking at her.

"You've decided to stay."

"Mm, yes."

"And have you decided how much you're willing to trust me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, one more thing we need to go over. You need a safe word. You'll find yourself begging me to stop, but you won't really mean it. That might not make sense right now, but it will. But if you really want me to stop, if it is becoming so unbearable that you just can't take it anymore, you'll say your safe word, and I'll stop. It should be something easy to remember and to get out, but not something you're likely to just randomly say in the heat of the moment."

Richard thought carefully, then said "What about, mm. Plover?"

"Alright. Plover it is then. Hang your hat and jacket on the door, then take two steps towards me and stop."

He did so, trying to keep his anticipation in check. She finally turned around to look at him. That mix of fear and desire sparked in him again as her eyes swept over him. Her hair was pulled back tightly, her eyes lightly shadowed with gray powder to make the blue of her irises stand out that much more. Her lips were painted a bright, shiny red. Richard saw that the corset covered nothing, but did everything to heighten her appeal by accenting her waist and emphasizing her curves. He watched as she walked toward him, each step confident and in control. Richard stood his ground as she stood very close to him. She reached out with her left had reached up and grabbed his hair, once more pulling his head back.

"I am going to tease you. I am going to use you. I am going to hurt you. I will make you beg me to fuck you. But I won't. Not for a good, long while. " She brought her mouth down to his throat, her teeth just below his Adam's apple. She bit down, not overly hard, but she used enough pressure for Richard to completely realize he was at her mercy. Skin between her teeth, she ran her tongue along the scar that crossed his throat. He shuddered at the sensation. She abruptly let his hair go and walked away from him.

"Take off your clothes," she commanded as she took a dozen steps away and turned back. Richard slowly unbuttoned his vest, his fingers clumsier than normal. He suddenly heard a sharp, quick *crack*

just off his left shoulder.

"Faster," Cat snapped as she drew the bull whip back towards her. Richard now understood what had been looped behind her back. "I want you naked in the next minute." Heart racing, Richard fumbled through his buttons as fast as he could. He gave up on the buttons half-way through his shirt and just slid it over his head, taking his undershirt with it. He tried to loosen his shoes with one hand while he unfastened his pants, but all he succeeded in doing was losing his balance and falling to the floor.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said. "That's my job. Now finish getting those fucking clothes off." Richard fumbled with his shoes and finally managed to get them undone, then out of his pants and socks. As soon as he freed himself from the clothes, she ordered him to stand up. He did, holding his hands in front of his groin.

"Move your hands. I want to see what you fucked me with last week. I said MOVE THEM!" she yelled when he hesitated, bringing the whip around to crack so close to his hip that he felt the air pop. He moved his hands.

"My, my," Cat said appreciatively as she eyed his cock. "I've said this a lot, and I haven't often meant it, but this time I do. That is a fucking beautiful cock you've got." Embarrassment, pride and lust flared through Richard, leaving his skin feeling hot and tingling. She walked around him, eying him. She seemed calm and collected. Richard felt like a mass of nerves. He wondered what was going to happen. When was it going to happen? What was she going to do to him? How close could she get to him with that whip without actually touching him? How much would it hurt if she did catch him with the whip?

"You're nervous," she whispered in his ear. "I can see your pulse racing in your throat. The anticipation is driving you crazy isn't it?" He swallowed and nodded, knowing he would never get the words out of his mouth. She gave a low chuckle and trailed her hand down his back, then smacked his ass hard before she walked past him. "Show me how much you trust me," she said as she walked into shadows. He could vaguely make out the shape of an armoire against a wall as she opened it.

Richard turned and walked back to the door, staring at the hooks. He took a deep breath, carefully removed his mask and tucked it into his jacket pocket, then pulled the blindfold from it's hook and slipped it over his eyes. The darkness was complete. He stood where he was, his hand against the door, listening carefully. He could hear nothing. He tensed, knowing she was somewhere behind him, knowing she would be up to no good. He turned so his back was to the door, then paused and listened again. Still nothing. Back pressed against the wall, he slowly crept towards the corner, pausing after each step to listen, sense some hint of where she was. The room was utterly still. He imagined her standing by that shadowed armoire, smiling, taking delight in watching him creep toward the corner like a trapped animal.

He was almost to the corner (he thought) when he sensed something drop past his face an instant before it tightened around his neck. He brought his hands up in an attempt to get it off, but he was too late. Cat had the collar buckled before he could get his hands back there, and he heard a lock snap shut just as his hands brushed hers. She gave a low chuckle, then grabbed one of his hands and began sucking on his fingers. Richard moaned and lost himself in the image of her doing the same to his cock, not realizing until he heard the lock that she had slipped a manacle around his wrist. He was rooted in place by fear and excitement, so she had no trouble slipping the other cuff into place and locking it closed. She pressed against his back and placed her hands on his chest. One moment they were just resting there, the next she was raking her nails down his skin. He inhaled sharply and threw his head back, feeling Cat scrap her teeth across his throat for a moment. Suddenly her hands were on his back and she gave him a not-so-gentle shove. He stumbled forward, catching his balance before he could fall. He turned back in the direction he thought she was, only to discover she had gotten behind him once again when he felt her nails rake down his back.

Adrenaline began to course through is veins as he tried to pinpoint where she was. He would turn, only to find her behind him again when she scratched or pinched or shoved him.

"Very disconcerting, isn't it?" she asked. Her voice came from his right, so he turned in that direction, only to feel her breath on the back of his neck a moment later. "You think I'm in one place, only to discover I'm someplace else. And you never know what I'm going to do to you. I could be very nice to you," she purred, running her hand down his stomach to grip his cock and slowly stroking it. The nervous energy coursing through Richard's veins turned instantly into sharp arousal as she worked him, his hips moving in an instinctive thrust to her movement. "You like this, hmm? Feels good, doesn't it? You want to slip this lovely cock into my pussy and fuck me, don't you?" His attempt to say yes was a choked whisper. "I liked the way you fucked me the other night." Her tongue flicked against his earlobe, making him shudder. "Did you like fucking me?" Richard nodded as his body began turning itself towards coming. "Say it!" Cat yelled in his ear, grabbing his hair roughly. "Say 'I liked fucking you, Mistress.'"

"I, mm. liked fucking. You, mm. Mistress," Richard panted, aware that his face was bright red with embarrassment.

"Of course you did. Fucking me is a pleasure, isn't it?"

"Mm, yes."

"Yes, what?" she demanded, pulling his head back hard. "Yes, mm, mistress."

"Good boy," she murmured softly, gently rubbing his scalp. "You're to address me as Mistress from now on? Do you understand?"

"Yes. Mm, yes, mistress." his voice quavered, thick as it was with his mingled emotions. "Good," she repeated. She was still stroking him, long steady sweeps that kept him at the same level arousal, didn't let him move closer or back away. "Keep being a good boy and I'll reward you. Would you like to be rewarded?"

"Yes, Mistress. Mm, I would."

"Of course you would. Now, be a good boy and keep stroking your cock, using the same rhythm I'm using." She let him go and took a step back. "Go on, grab that beautiful cock." Richard hesitated...masturbate? In front of someone? He couldn't! That was so personal, so private.

The shock of her slap across his face startled a cry from his throat. "Any particular reason you're not stroking your dick yet?" she yelled in his face. "What's the matter? Too embarrassed? Does the thought of jerking off in front of me make you feel dirty? Is that it?" Richard turned his face away and gave a small nod. "I can't hear you!" she yelled, grabbing his chin and roughly yanking his head back to face her. "I said, does the thought of jerking off in front of me make you feel dirty?" It took him a moment, but he finally managed to get 'Yes, mistress' out. "Well too fucking bad," she said. "What were you expecting? Me to tease you a little bit then say 'Oh please make sweet gentle love to me!' as I lay on my back and spread my legs for you? Did you really think it would be that easy?" He didn't know how to answer. He hadn't entirely known what to expect. He didn't know how far he could go with this. "Just say the word," she whispered in his ear, her hand gently caressing the angry red hand print that still stung his cheek. "Just say your safe word, and I'll let you go. You can go back to the privacy of your own home, where you can jerk yourself off away from prying eyes, all by yourself. You can imagine what it would have felt like to bury yourself in my pussy. Because that's as close as you'll get to it. Is that what you want?" He shook his head quickly and managed to say no mistress, although he hated himself a bit for it. He couldn't understand why he wanted to submit to her, humiliate himself before her, put himself at her cruel mercy. Guilt and shame welled inside of him along with desire and an overwhelming urge to please her. It was confusing, it was frustrating, it was an internal torture unlike any he had ever experienced.

Everything he had been raised believing screamed that this was a sin. It was hard to get past that belief. But what about everything else in his life? How was this more sinful than the murders he committed without qualm? Why did this cause him so much inner turmoil? Why did that inner turmoil excite him so much? He began to understand what she had meant at the beginning...about what he would learn about himself. He was starting to realize he was exceptionally confused by the way he viewed things. Perhaps it was the fact that, when killing, he was as devoid of emotion as the desert was of water, but here, now, he was experiencing so many emotions that he was nearly overwhelmed by them all. how far was he willing to go with this? How deep into a pit of guilt, shame and depravity would she take him? He knew, if he continued, it would only get worse. Unless and until he said 'Plover', he would be at her complete mercy, not that she would show him any. He suddenly understood something: her goal was to break him, overwhelm him until he gave in and uttered his safe word. Did that make it his goal to outlast her, then? Could he? Hers was a skill she had honed over years of practice. She would know just what to do and say to work her torturous magic on him. He, on the other hand... what chance did he have against her? Not much, he realized. But it wasn't in him to just give up. He wasn't to that point yet. She might push him to that point before she was through, and he realized that part of this was finding your limit, discovering what you could handle.

"Does Mistress still, mm. Want me to pleasure myself?" he asked, pushing aside the acute embarrassment, clinging to the wicked arousal uttering such a phrase left him feeling.

"Yes, she does," she replied. Richard thought he heard pride in her voice. He realized he
wanted her to be proud of him. He wanted her to think of him as a good boy. He wanted the rewards she offered.

Dear God forgive me but I want this so badly

He took himself in hand and began stroking, trying to ignore the erotic feel of the chain that linked the manacles as it banged against him. He used the same slow steady rhythm she had set, and realized the thought of her watching him do this was actually exciting him. A low moan escaped him and he had to fight the urge to speed up his motions. He tried very hard to not actually think of anything, because as soon as his mind turned to the thought of what was happening, or what he wanted to happen, he grew close to coming. He didn't think that would go over too well. He tried to figure out what she might be doing...hoping he could prepare himself for whatever she had in store. But he couldn't hear anything from her, which REALLY made him wonder what she was up to.

"That's a good boy," she said approvingly. "You can stop now. I think you've earned a little reward. " Richard's pulse skipped in anticipation. She placed her hands on the side of his head and applied gentle pressure, guiding him down. He felt the brush of her nipple across his lips, realized what she wanted him to do and eagerly latched on, bringing his hands up to fondle her breasts as he licked and sucked, occasionally raking his teeth across her skin because he knew she enjoyed that.

"I knew you'd like this. You love my tits, don't you?" He murmured his affirmative reply as he squeezed them together, lashing his tongue across one nipple and then the other in rapid succession. He dug his fingers into her flesh and felt her arch her back. Boldly, he took one of her nipples between his teeth and gradually increased pressure until she gave a small cry, at that point he eased just a little and swirled his tongue around the captured peak. He could feel her body swaying as her hips rocked back and forth. He lowered himself to his knees, skimmed his hands down to her hips, pressed his face between her legs, flicking his tongue over her clit...

Her hand fisted into his hair and roughly yanked him back. That delightful thrill coursed through him once more, although now it was sharper, more defined, more overwhelming than ever. He wished he could understand the why of it.

"Did I say you could lick my pussy?"

"No, but, mm..."

"No, what?" she growled, giving his head a shake.

"No, mistress. Mm, I just thought..."

"You're not here to think. You're here to do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it." She began walking, keeping her hand fisted in Richard's hair and dragging him with her. He shuffled behind her, bent at an awkward angle.

She came to an abrupt halt and ordered him to kneel and put his hands behind his head. He did, feeling her grab the chain that linked his manacles, then tugging on his collar.

I trust her. I'm probably an idiot but I trust her. I know she won't really hurt me. It won't feel pleasant but it won't be permanently damaging. Although if she lays into my back with that bull whip I might be permanently scarred. Can't have that happen, now can we. Heaven forbid I get a scar. Son of a...she just locked my hands to the collar! This really isn't good.

Any illusion Richard held that he had control in this situation was shattered.

"Look at you tremble," she said, a note of delight in her voice. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?"

"Mm...somewhat, mistress." He was afraid she would. He was afraid she wouldn't. He was confused, was what he was.

"Only somewhat? I'm being too nice to you, apparently." He could feel her shifting her position, realized she was kneeling beside him when he felt her breath across his scarred cheek. He suddenly regretted taking off the mask, he should have kept it on, kept the horror that was his face hidden. She was probably staring at it in terror, eyes wide, mouth opened with disgust. He turned his face towards her, wanting to press his damaged visage against his arm and hide it from her gaze, but she gripped his chin and turned his head back so that he was staring ahead. "Don't move," she ordered. He held still, even though he wanted to cringe away when he felt her tongue running over the thick scar on his cheek. She traced it from where it started, almost at his ear, all the way to where it disappeared under the blindfold.

The sensation itself was not unpleasant, but Richard still hated it. He hated his scars, would have covered them up completely if he could. It hadn't occurred to him that she would acknowledge his scars, much less lick them.

"Please, mm. Stop. Please."

He meant it.

But he didn't.

"Please what?"

"Please, mistress," he said.

"What?" she asked, running her tongue lower across his cheek. "You don't like this?" Her tongue skirted the ruined corner of his mouth, up his cheek, along the lower edge of the blindfold.

"No, mistress, mm. I don't."

She ran her tongue over the scar above his eye, then back down to the scars on his cheek. "Why do you think I care what you do or don't like?"

"Please, mistress. Please stop." She continued to run her tongue over his scars, and he continued to ask her to stop, his voice growing more pleading as he went. She kept reminding him that if he said his safe word, she would stop, and he could go home and never worry about anyone else licking his scars. Richard clenched the chain in his hands, and ground his teeth together. He was not going to give in on this. Discomfort warred with resolve as she continued to run her tongue over his face. Why was he taking this? Why didn't he just get up and walk away? She wasn't the only whore in the city...he could easily go to any of the other brothels and get a girl for a few hours. There were a couple, at houses he delivered liquor to, who were at least pleasant to him. This one though? Not one nice word, constantly bossing him around, god, even telling him how to fuck her when he was paying good money to get what he wanted! And yet he had come back, feeling the need to answer her challenge. And if he wasn't careful, she was going to win. But who said he just had to meekly take this? Why couldn't he put up some resistance? A small idea occurred to him...it wouldn't take much roll her onto her back and be on top of her instantly.

That's actually quite appealing. But, would that be tantamount to rape? I mean, she hasn't actually said I could have sex with her, but then again I think it was implied. That's where games like these end, right? Blissful orgasmic sex? Plus,she's not exactly dressed, and she is a whore...but no, just because she's a whore doesn't mean anyone has a right to do whatever they want whenever they want. She's still a woman. I could never do that to a woman.

OH! She said this was about domination and submission...what if she's expecting me to put up some sort of fight? That's tempting. God knows I have a very strong urge to clobber her right now, even though I would never actually do it, and it's my own fault anyway...she said she was a bitch, and I believe her, even though I'm sure she really has been being 'nice' to me. I wonder if I have a bald spot from where she'd been grabbing my hair. That's one good reason not to put up a fight...my scalp hurts and it's possible she might not grab hair next time. Even if I do love that rush of feeling when she's being so forceful with me!

Maybe I could go the other route. What if I completely submit to her? Comply with her demands the instant she utters them, no matter how awkward they make me feel. Do nothing without her permission. Maybe beg her to let me do things to her. I have a feeling that tactic will piss her off.

Damn it! She's still licking my face like a...cat, ha ha. She's doing it to irritate me. She knows it bothers me, and she's thinking if she does it long enough, I'll give in and say Plover, but I'm not going to say it. I'm just not going to say it so she should really just...oh, now that's...that spot on the neck is a little ticklish, but nice. I could enjoy her licking right...

"OW!" Richard breathed heavily through clenched teeth as she bit hard on his neck. She bit her way down his chest, seeming to know just how much pressure to apply at each different point to find that razor-thin line where pain and pleasure merged. Richard felt his entire body grow hot as her teeth bit into his stomach. His muscles tightened, his fists grabbed the chain tighter, as if that could possibly accomplish anything.

He grew exceptionally tense when she grabbed his cock, expecting her to bite it as well. But to his relief, she took it into her mouth very gently. She was skilled, and it wasn't long before he was softly whimpering, and then more loudly begging for release.

"Getting selfish, aren't you?" Cat teased, as she tickled his back with something that felt like soft, supple leather straps. He shivered in anticipation. "Thinking only of your own enjoyment. Well, what about mine? Hmm?" The sudden slap across his back ignited a fire in Richard. She alternated the punishment with reward, frequently taking him into her mouth, or her hand, and building him to that cusp, only to suddenly stop and go back to flogging him.

She worked him, physically and verbally abusing him, knowing just where to lash, or what to say, to agonize him. It amazed him that she could know his deepest thoughts and fears, and she could use them to torment him. She questioned his honor, his morals, his integrity. She called him heartless, a coward, nothing but a shadow, broken, something that shouldn't even exist. It was nothing he hadn't thought about himself, many times, and when these thoughts passed his mind they left him feeling sad and broken. But as she taunted him, lashed at him with a well-used cat o'nine tails, he felt something defiant start to build.

How dare she? Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn't know me! She has no right! I am not some broken piece of meat who blindly follows the first stronger man to come along! So help me if I get my hands on the fucking bitch I am going to strangle her. What is the point of insulting someone so? It's certainly not sexy, it's just mean and aggravating. I'll give her this, she's good with what she's whipping me with. That right there is worth this evening. The verbal abuse has to stop. She wouldn't be saying these things if I could actually get my hands on her. She'll free me eventually, and when she does? Oh, she had better run. Because when I get my hands free...hey, wait a...there's the lock connecting this damn chain to the collar, and there's the first lock she put on...but it's not really connected to anything! That means...

Richard bowed his head, panting, his entire body trembling. He said, as meekly as he could manage "Please, mistress. May I, mm. Pleasure you in. mm, some way?"

"I might let you," she said, as if she would be bestowing a great favor if she did. Richard was tired of that tone. "What did you have in mind?"

"Whatever, mm, would make mistress happy." Jimmy would laugh his ass off if he could see this.

"Whatever would make me happy? Hmmm..." Richard could hear her pacing back and forth in front of him. That meant she wanted him to know where she was. So what was she planning? He felt her fingers ruffle through his hair, tensed in case she was going to pull it again, but she only gently pushed his head forward. As soon as his nose brushed against damp curls, he knew what she expected.

Although it was a slightly awkward angle, he ran his tongue between her legs, running it over her lips, flicking it against her clit. As he worked, she became vocal and bossy, telling him what to do and how to do it. He could feel her fingers flexing in his hair. Hoping she was distracted enough, he worked the buckle of the collar open. He held it still around his neck, waiting for the perfect moment...

"Oh fuck," Cat moaned. "You're really good at licking a girl's puss. You're so good at it, I'm going to let you make me come. You've been such a good boy, you deserve that much."

Gee, thanks! Just what I always wanted! Richard thought, slightly disturbed at the amount of sarcasm his mental argument was voicing. Well, actually it is. And you probably figured that out, didn't you you fucking bitch? Well, enjoy it while it lasts...

He felt her body start to tense, her moans grew louder. Richard got one of his feet underneath him, twisting his head slightly to make it seem like he was just trying to get better access to her cleft.

"Mm, thank you, mistress for. Letting me nibble. Your biscuit."

She snorted through her nose. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'nibble my biscuit'?" That was honestly the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard and she was trying very hard not to laugh, but she wasn't succeeding. She took a half step back, just far enough for Richard. He tensed, pictured in his mind what he was going to do, took a deep breath...

Cat was trying to compose herself, it was so hard to be unrelenting and mean when you were laughing, after all. Nibble my biscuit...dear lord I thought I'd heard every euphemism for eating a girl out but surprise surprise, I just learned a new one. Gotta stop thinking about it. Can't wield a whip while giggling...

So when Richard threw his arms forward, lunged at her and pinned her to the ground, she was quite taken by surprise. The breath was knocked out of her. He quickly placed one of his forearms over her throat, constricting her air somewhat, but not dangerously so. Her heart began to thud in her chest, and her arousal quickened. She enjoyed dominating, was quite good at it, but she loved being dominated.

Richard brought his face down to her ear and said in a very quiet, ominous tone "I am, mm... Done being toyed with. Bitch."