Association (a serial bdsm novel) By Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard
Note: past episodes can be accessed at
http://www.adrianhunter.com/association_about.htm
DAY FOUR--SABRINA
When Geoffrey announced I would have the whole morning to myself while
he worked in his darkroom, I felt like applauding. It was the best news
I'd heard since my arrival five days ago. I asked if I could call the
association's director to update him on our work, expecting a polite, but
firm refusal. Instead, he led me upstairs to his study and pointed at the
phone on his desk.
"There. And please, do not touch anything else," he warned.
"Am I allowed to sit in the chair?"
He didn't bother to answer, and stomped back downstairs. I hoped I
wouldn't see him again until lunch time. Good riddance.
I sat, or rather slumped, in his leather chair, taking off my ridiculous
heels and putting my bare feet on his desk. Every time I thought I had
sussed out Geoffrey's game, he unleashed another surprise, always a bad
one.
So he didn't use the whip, but he gagged me, which was even worse. And
what about tying me to the ground, coating me with honey and
joking--joking!--about ants? Was it my lack of an appreciation for
verisimilitude, or was this guy insane? I didn't know how many bottles of
his precious wine I had broken the other night, but the price I'd already
paid seemed sufficiently high. In fact, I would have told him so, if my
anger hadn't reached a level of intensity quite beyond the capacity of
speech. No words could have expressed my indignation better than the
stubborn silence I maintained until bedtime. Not that it seemed to bother
him.
I dialed the director's number and, after updating him on the sessions,
tried to get more information on Mr. Sorenson. Apparently, his reputation
was irreproachable, and no one had ever complained about his work. His
artistic ideas were praised by his many clients; working with him was
considered a privilege.
Oh, it was my privilege for sure, I grinned as I put down the receiver.
Well, if he gave up on his bondage madness, I might even get to see what
the fuss was all about.
I left the room and decided to go outdoors. After a long and peaceful
walk, wandering everywhere but near the stables or that fateful clearing, I
returned to the pool and spent the rest of my free time in the water.
The solo stroll restored most of my confidence and self-control.
However, the minute Geoffrey reappeared, I fretted over what his next
"artistic" idea would be.
As it turned out, this one had been fun. I got to play rock star, and
that was an fantasy I enjoyed acting out. He asked if I knew any Joan
Jett, and my rendition of "I Love Rock and Roll" almost brought a smile to
his face. Almost. But at least I knew he was pleased, and I began to
relax. Surely the wine cellar disaster was forgotten now, and our future
photo sessions would be as entertaining as this one.
Dinner was implausibly enjoyable; our discussion centered on music, and
we discovered we had at least one interest in common. When I went to bed,
I was convinced I had gone through the worst and things could only brighten
up. I slept like a baby.
(Continued in Association - Day 5)
*** Copyright © 2002 by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard. All rights
reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.
*** "Crash Your Party Dress," a collection of our bdsm short and
novellas, is now available from Renaissance Ebooks
http://www.renebooks.com
*** AdrianHunter.com Superlative bondage fiction by Adrian Hunter and
Chelsea Shepard
http://www.adrianhunter.com
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