Zoe had called it a millionaire's hunting lodge, but the place surpassed even that description. Palace was more like it, a split-level palace in the woods, and regardless of the sylvan location and the racks of guns, it sure hadn't been designed for hunting. At least not the type of hunting that pits man against animal. Business tycoon against showgirl maybe; anyway, it was a place for the big money boys to bring their doxies and spend a wild weekend away from their dull wives.
The lodge was set up for it. Sumptuous as a city duplex, it had everything, including the best of modern plumbing, plus the added advantage of seclusion. There was even electricity, surprisingly enough, powered by a generator (with a full set of instructions on its operation) that was serviced and maintained by a man from the nearest town. All in all, the palatial cabin was just about perfect for a vacation; who could ask for anything more?
We unloaded the car, adding our just-purchased supplies to the already well-stocked larder. There was probably enough food and booze to last till doomsday. Together, we would be snug as a couple of bugs in a rug. The only thing missing was a retinue of servants to wait on us hand and foot.
But servants weren't exactly necessary, not as far as Zoe was concerned. After all, she had me. I figured I'd be playing butler and maid all rolled into one. And footstool, too, if such was her whim. No, my friend wasn't going to lack for service. Not as long as I was around to fetch and carry for her.
She showed no sign of it, though. It was almost as if she had forgotten her dominant role. Even while emptying the car and storing the supplies, she had lent a hand cheerfully, doing as much work as I did. I wouldn't have been surprised or displeased if she had ordered me to do the job alone. I had rather expected her to, really, considering the peculiar cast of our relationship. But she had aided with the unloading and then continued in the same pleasant vein as we cooked and ate our first meal. I did insist on doing the dishes, though, refusing to allow those nice hands of hers to get involved in such a menial task.
Actually, her nonchalant behavior was beginning to upset me a little. My idol simply made no demands; what happened to all those plans she had pondered? Promises, promises. True, we had only just gotten settled in our plush hideaway, but I was growing pretty darn impatient for something to break. Impatient enough to seize the first opportunity that arose, and I marched in to help her as she lay soaking in the bathtub. That was one thing I could do for her without overstepping any bounds or usurping authority; a little maid-type pampering? Of course.
I had already grabbed a quick shower myself, deliberately bypassing any clothing afterward. Not even a robe. And I hoped she would take my all-too-obvious hint. Stark naked, I stood there and held a towel ready for her.
"Oh?" Her face lit up. "Don't you think I can do that without any help, honey?"
"Let me. Please?"
"You're anxious, hmm?"
"You know. I want to do everything for you."
Her eyes sparkled. "Well, if it's that important… " Leaning on my arm, she rose and stepped out of the tub onto the bathmat.
I caught my breath, struck with awe at the sight of all that voluptuously contoured flesh. As often as I had seen her nude body, it still sent shivers up and down my spine. Only now it was more appealing than ever. Foam clung here and there haphazardly, glistening in white patterns upon the tawny surface; I almost hated to wipe the twinkly stuff away. It looked like a powdering of tiny pearls.
But that was my duty now, my self-imposed duty, and I ran the towel over the damp softness, patting lightly, delicately, as if her skin was too precious for anything less gentle. The peaks of her big breasts firmed to my touch, an indication that I was on the right track. My beloved was responding. I felt an excruciating urge to drop the towel and use only my hands. But it was too soon for that, much too soon, and I had to keep the nappy fabric between me and all that alluring femininity.
I knelt and dried her feet carefully and with painstaking precision, terribly conscious of the thrill I found in my own humility. Then the ankles and calves. The captivating thighs that I had borne so often like a yoke around my neck. Oh, how I wanted that delicious yoke again!
But there was more work to be done. Still on my knees, I moved around to lavish attentive service upon the big delectably domed buttocks, wishing it was my mouth that I was using and not the bath towel. The dimpled flesh was utterly ravishing.
“Kid.“
"Mmm?"
"Go get my purse. The black one. I guess it's on the bureau in the bedroom."
I scurried off, disappointed to part with all that exciting nude beauty, but too obedient to put up any protest. Although I did think it somewhat callous of her to interrupt my labors just to bring her the cigarettes or whatever it was she needed from her purse. Especially since I had figured she was just about on the verge of accepting her dominant role.
On the verge?
Oh shit, I should have known better. The verge was past and she had gone beyond that stage. In everything, Zoe was always at least one step ahead of me.
She dug into the purse. "Yes, here it is, a little present I got for you. Hold out your hands."
Somewhat mystified, I complied. The thing she pulled from her purse startled me. It looked like a chain of some sort. Not until I heard the metallic clink and the sharp click-click did I realize what it was. But by then it was too late, my wrists were already in its double grip.
"Hey, what's-"
“Hush. Hold still, honey, I want to check the fit. Yeah. Fine. Just about perfect. Could have been custom made for you. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
I examined the gadget. A silver chain with two wide bracelets linked to the ends, the bracelets now firmly locked around my wrists. Like a set of handcuffs but less constricting than the usual police variety. The chain was long enough to allow freedom of movement, but it put me into definite bondage nonetheless.
"N-no. It-it doesn't hurt."
"It sure as hell shouldn't. You have no idea what a thing like this costs. Believe me, it was hard to find."
"Uh, is there a key? The locks look too strong to break. You do have one, I hope."
"You're worried about that, eh?" She chuckled. "Can't say as I blame you. But you'll just have to go on worrying, I'm afraid. It'll be a week before you find out."
"A-aweek?"
"That's all I'm going to tell you, kiddo. We won't discuss it any further."
"But, but I can't wear this thing for, "
"Quit griping. And get back to work." She foraged among the jars and bottles in the wall-shelves and came up with a perfume atomizer. "Here. You might as well do this too. I like to smell good for my baby-doll."
I recalled the last time I had used an atomizer on her; she had a penchant for perfume, sure enough. But now I had a task to do, and with the chain linking my wrists, I pressed the rubber bulb and started. In a half-crouch, I circled her body slowly, the cloud of scent making my head spin.
"Mmm, nice. Spray me all over. You know how."
All but overwhelmed, I obeyed mutely. The perfume tickled my nose. There was intoxication in it, misting my brain and diminishing my ability to reason. The bracelets and chain were weighty, and yet I was already growing accustomed to them. As if they belonged right there, a symbol of my lowly status.
But for a whole week? Apparently that was what she intended; it was her way of demonstrating her power over me. Demonstrating it physically, tangibly, as well as psychologically. My week of slavery had truly begun. Hmm. Slavery? Yes indeed, what else was I but a love-slave? In her own unique manner, my all-powerful conqueror was actually showing her love for me. And as far as I was concerned, her wishes were paramount. Her desires, whatever they might be, were all that really mattered. Nothing else. With total obedience, I too would be showing my love. By doing only what I was told to do. This, at the moment. The perfume spray. Soon it would be something different. Something even nasty and degrading, perhaps; who could tell what was on that devious mind of hers?
Then again it might be something nice. Maybe she would relent and lead me out of the bathroom and to the bed. Where I could make love to her. Where I could bestow upon her body the adoration that made me tingle just thinking about it.
But she gave no indication of going anywhere. The queer expression on her face didn't explain anything either. That odd twist of her lips. The glitter in her eyes. I got the impression that it might be a long time before we reached the bed. Maybe we wouldn't get there at all.
I was on my knees now, my temples throbbing almost painfully; oh, it was maddening to be so close and still keep my distance. Then, considerately, she plucked the atomizer from my hand and put it back on the shelf, uttering the command I had waited to hear, and at last I was permitted a certain self-indulgence.
The coral cunt-lips peeped from within her silver-blond fluff, a vividly erotic picture. I moved my face to it, the flesh now drenched in perfume and yet exuding a musky and seductive tang of its own. I kept sniffing it even as my taste buds came alive, sniffing and kissing at the same time. Avidly. But always with care, the utmost of care; it was important that I do it well. More important than anything else in the whole wide world! I parted those silk-fringed lips lovingly, tenderly, and gave the scented moistness a thousand impassioned kisses, affectionate little pecks at first and then ever-deepening caresses as my mouth opened and my tongue sought to perform its most intimate service. While she stood there like a tyrant, a beautiful tyrant, and accepted my homage as her rightful due, like a queen taking tribute from a humble subject.
No, not a queen. More than that. Greater. In this democratic day and age, queens are mere showpieces adding some pomp and pageantry to the daily lives of their compatriots. Zoe was far superior. And hadn't I already chosen her title?
Goddess!
Ah yes, that was it, a goddess. And the poor fawning creature at her feet, the once independent Dana Thorpe, could only be the goddess' slave. For who but a slave could feel like this? Did the thing called Dana Thorpe even exist for any purpose other than to please her goddess?
"Darling… darling… "
"Mmm?"
"Oh, I love your mouth."
"Ummmm… "
"And this is only the beginning. I told you it might get pretty wild, remember? I could easily become a bitch, a vicious bitch. Will you hate me if that happens?" She grabbed my hair and pulled my face out of its comfortable nest. "Will you? I want a truthful answer. Before we go any further. Will you still love me when I'm acting like a mean old bitch?"
Wide-eyed and worshipful, I peered up at her, tawny and towering in that tiny room, arrogant and demanding and absolutely magnificent! And I had to say it. All of it. Not just what she wanted to hear, that was simple, but what I wanted her to hear. That wasn't so simple. But it was all welling up inside me and I had to say it aloud. All of it.
"I love you, I love you, I'll always love you." The words spilled out crazily. "If you're a bitch, you're also a goddess. A bitch-goddess! And I love you and I'm your slave and I'll keep on loving you no matter, "
"Dana!" Then, softly, "Darling, do you realize what you just said? You called me a goddess. Do you really mean that?"
"I do, I do. You're a goddess. My beautiful goddess… "
"Yes."
Just that one word. Yes. And we both knew what it signified. Only she must have understood it more thoroughly; the idea was vague to me even though I had voiced it first. Certainly I didn't expect her to pick up the threads and weave them into a permanent emotional tapestry. But that was exactly what she did, and a white-hot thrill streaked through my body, spurring me to instant compliance as I heard her next command:
"Lick my feet, slave."
Humbling myself, I went into the lowest of low crouches as my mouth brushed one bare foot and then the other, pretty feet, smooth and unblemished. But I couldn't stop to admire them, oh no, her toes were wriggling, prying my lips apart forcefully, and in a haze of sweet subservience I strived to please my goddess, sucking each toe and laving between them with my tongue.
"I like that. You'll be doing it often."
"Ummm."
"Enough for now, though."
"Hmm?"
"Like I said, this is only the beginning. Look up now. I need you for something else. Over here. Come! Zoe needs you."
She took a step and I didn't quite grasp her meaning. But she let me know soon enough, gripping the chain in one hand and dragging me along the floor. The bracelets pinched and I skinned my knees keeping up with her. And when she finally reached the toilet and sat herself down, I was glad to stop and catch my breath.
As it turned out, that was essential. My breath. Because a moment or two later I had to struggle to keep from smothering. Or drowning. Not that I struggled very hard, at least not against my beloved goddess. No, my only struggle was for a gasp of air now and then so that I might stay alive and in good health and be of use to her. I couldn't afford to get sick; what kind of service could a sick slave offer? My goddess needed me. She would be needing me for the rest of the week. For many things. For this. For her pleasure, her perverse pleasure, ah yes, this! And with my wrists chained and my blood churning feverishly, I died a thousand delicious deaths and wondered how a dream could seem so real…