I woke to darkness, softness underneath me, the cool whir of a ceiling fan overhead. Eyes closed, I let my body come back to life. I took a deep breath, one after another, feeling the world come back into being, and I wondered how long I’d been out for.
What time was it? What day? I felt like those space explorers must feel when they come out of cryosleep, their bodies slowly finding feeling, remembering movement. I was sure this was the same after being awake for more than a day. I licked my lips, swallowed, blinking into the dark room, finding nothing but the hint of light along the border of a window shade.
Angelica. My mind was coming back to life, too, and my first thought was her, the deal, my promise, and when I moved, tried to move, I heard her words again in my mind.
“If you want this belt off, I can take it off, but not before you agree to my terms.” She knelt over me, her knees pressing down on my upper arms, pinning me to the bed. I looked up past her pussy, a stream of saliva looping down from her swollen lips to mine. I tongued it, tasting her on my lips. Her cum. While mine remained locked behind the metal band.
How many times had I made her cum? How many orgasms had I given her? Each time, just as she was about to cum, she’d reached down between her legs, touching my face, catching my eye, reminding me again and again, “Give me your orgasm, Maddie. The one you want so badly. Give it to me.” And something about that, her words, the look in her eyes -- pure pleasure -- and the way it felt for me to offer her my mouth. I gave her my orgasms again and again, and she left me wanting, panting, hips grinding, breathless and needing more. How did that work? How did she know? Each time she came, I wanted to make her cum again. Each time she shuddered, moaned, ground her pussy against my face, the vibrations against my clit leaving me aching, caught between her demands and my desperation.
“Please.” The word lingered on my lips like it had found a home.
“You will be bound, hand and foot, as long as the belt is off, if I can get it off. Otherwise, you will ride that torment as long as you are able, and then some.”
“Please,” I’d said, the only word I could manage. Then I’d felt hands on me, the other woman, pulling my wrists behind my back, fixing heavy silver manacles around my wrists and ankles and securing them together with a short chain. And finally, a collar. Angelica pulled my hair up, her lips inches from mine, holding me still as the other woman fixed a matching collar around my neck -- thick, heavy silver metal, like stainless steel. It weighed more than I expected, as did the other manacles, but these were cool and rounded, soft around the edges, unlike the ones they used in the pop-up boxes. Cool against my hot skin, and welcome when I heard a decisive click, and felt the belt come free.
Free. I was free. And not.
She’d rolled me over then on my belly, and stood up. I tried to follow as she walked around the bed, and before I could say a word, she’d plunged her fingers into my pussy, and I’d let out a desperate wail, jerking, humping, grinding, trying to find purchase against her slender fingers invading me. She fucked me again and again, never once touching my clit, ignoring my pleading, my begging, the promises I made, words I couldn’t even remember. If only she’d let me cum. And then she leaned in close, her fingers gone, her warm breath on my skin as she whispered in my ear. “Sleep well, Maddie. You’re going to need it.”
I tested the bonds again, feeling the metal warm against my wrists and ankles, the chain running between them firm. I’d slept like that, my arms and legs folded behind me, just a few moments after Angelica had walked away, leaving me sobbing, humping the sheets. And then, I’d drifted off. I must have. I couldn’t remember anything after that, until now.
And what now? I licked my dry lips, suddenly thirsty, hungry, a hint of the need coming back between my legs. If only I could will it away…could I? Could I just make my clit forget the torment? Could I wait a little longer, please Angelica the way she wanted to be pleased, and then she would tire of me, having gotten what she wanted. To humiliate me. To dominate me. Had she planted the PUGH card on the table there, or was it just randomly left there by the last patron or the wait staff? I couldn’t remember seeing it.
Was this all a ploy to force me to give over my shares and a nod for her promotion to the CEO, a show of support from the family of the founder?
Then the door burst open, light flooding into the room and over the bed, leaving me blinking as a familiar shape stepped in. The click of her heels, the sway of her hips, the way her hair fell over her shoulders. I’d memorised more of Angelica than I’d ever thought possible.
“Maddie, you’re awake. Good. I’m sure you’re hungry. Let’s get dinner.” She paused in the doorway, just a silhouette as another shape pushed past her. “Kyoto will ready you.”
I felt my stomach growl as the thought of food forced its way through the fog of sleep, and then the young Japanese woman stepped in silently, climbing onto the bed. She leaned over me, as calm as I was nervous, my heart thundering in my chest, held fast by the bondage. Her hands were cold, slipping around my waist, and for a moment, I paused. Was she freeing me? She’d been the one to lock me in these manacles. Perhaps I was panicking.
“You’ll be free in a moment, Maddie, if you’ll stop struggling.”
And that’s all I needed to hear -- free. At last. But what did that mean? We were going to dinner. Where? With whom? I was starving, yes, nothing but cum in my belly, what little I swallowed. But I wasn’t free, was I? Not free to go home. Free of the belt, the torturous vibrations, yes, but free of Angelica? Free of Angelica. I thought of that for a moment, felt a pang of need, a twitch between my legs again as I imagined myself bound hand and foot on my stomach just some few hours ago with my face buried in her pussy. Had I been free then? And yet somehow, in some strange way, the answer felt like a yes.
Until a familiar feeling swept over me, the cool bare metal between my legs, the belt tight around my waist, the click of the lock and the sudden vibrations hitting my clit!
“No! No! Let me out!”
Kyoto grabbed me by the hair, and I screamed as she dragged me from the bed. The chain came free, and I stumbled to my feet, my ankles still locked together, my wrists still bound behind my back. I hobbled forward, pulled by my hair. Then, right in front of Angelica, she forced me to my knees, the metal band ravaging my clit, driving me right back into a space I’d promised her anything to escape from.
“Quiet, Madison.” She put a manicured finger to her lips.
“No, please.” The tears ran freely now. “Please. I said I’d do anything. I did. I did what you wanted.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice softer now, and she squatted in front of me in a pair of tight black leather pants and matching bustier. Her hands were cool on my skin, caressing my cheeks as I cried. “I know. But I told you that I make the rules and you will do what you’re told. Maddie?” Her eyes explored my face, soft and gentle like her touch. “You came to me, remember?”
I stared up at her, right back there where I was before, desperately trying to fuck the metal band that captured my pussy.
“I’ll turn it off during dinner, but you’ll wear it for me otherwise. Do you understand? Please, Madison. It’s just dinner with me.” She smiled, then leaned in and kissed me, and I whimpered as I kissed her back. Then her voice was in my ear, her warm cheek against mine, her hands roaming my body. “And Maddie, don’t you know how excited it makes me to see you locked up like this? I’m wet already.”
She kissed me again, more like a peck, a punctuation mark on that last sentence, and when she pulled back, she said, “Dinner now. I know just the place. I know you’re hungry.”
I nodded, unsure of where that answer came from, only sure I was feeling the draw of her words, her touch, her gentle coaxing. The way her fingers drifted over my hot skin, sending tingles through my body that not even the vibrations between my legs could do. The scent of jasmine again filling my nostrils as I inhaled. The softness of her lips and the way her tongue eagerly explored my mouth.
I nodded. “Yes, okay.”
“Then let’s move,” she said and turned and walked away. I watched her hips sway, the way her hair swung across her back, then Kyoto was lifting me to my feet. “Get her dressed, Kyoto. The outfit is laid out on my bed.”
The Broadstreet Bistro was a name that belied its true nature. I’d dined there before with Ellis. It had been a favorite of ours, if not difficult to get into. Small, intimate and dark, it was a power play for businessmen showing off to clients, a romantic dinner for two for lovers, a regular stop for a pair of New York City congressmen. The car pulled up in front at half eleven, and I wondered as we stepped out how the kitchen would be open. Surely the place had stopped serving, but when Angelica slid out of the car after me, she grabbed my hand and pulled me past the doorman with a nod.
We pressed through the flesh of late-nighters, a young Korean woman showing us to a hightop near the crowded bar. It was standing only, no stools at that time of the night, she mentioned, and she pointed to the QR code taped in the center of the little round table top before she disappeared. Angelica slid a phone I recognized as mine from her bustier with a sly grin, and then she turned it to face me. Immediately, the screen flashed, and the picture of me from the first cycle stared back at me, the background I hadn’t had a moment to change. Angelica turned it her way, then turned back to me and leaned in before I could say a word. Her lips played against my ear, her thoughts leaking out like a tongue on my pussy. “That is the hottest picture I’ve ever seen. You should never change it.”
I turned to say something, my eyes fixed on the background screen. But the words caught in my throat as she kissed me and the thought of protest fell away when she slid her fingers under my dress. I’d worn the belt the whole ride over, but Kyoto had removed it before we stepped out, and suddenly, I felt exposed. Free, but strangely anxious, guarded. A gorgeous Dior dress that hugged my curves -- much shorter than I ever would have considered myself, and the simple black pumps I’d worn with the shirt dress earlier in the day. No panties. Angelica’s fingers stroked my clit as our tongues danced, and I would have stumbled and fallen if she hadn’t had her arm wrapped tightly around me.
“Don’t ever delete it,” she breathed, when she pulled back. She caught my eye, looking for acknowledgement, and I blushed, my eyes falling. Then, she turned and linked the code in the table and ran through the menu with practiced ease, her black fingernails tapping here and there. A quick flip and the pictures and words on the screen spun before she tapped it again. “There. A meal fit for a queen.” She eyed me. “And what would that make you, my darling?”
I pressed my lips together, suddenly unable to draw forth any words, the memories of me tonguing her clit dancing through my mind in tune with the music that had just kicked in. “Um.” I swallowed, the word I needed failing on my lips.
“Yes?” Angelica leaned in and I breathed in the jasmine.
“I..I don’t know.” Her fingers ran across the hem of the dress, and I felt the gush of need between my legs. Grabbing the table, I steadied myself.
“But you’d kneel before your queen, wouldn’t you?” Her breath was warm on my neck, her breasts pushing into me as she slipped her arm around my waist again. “Not now. Later?’
I shuddered, imagining it, and nodded. It was all I could manage.
Angelica led me by the hand again, past the bathrooms and the kitchen, a narrow corridor lined with metal shelves full of non-perishables and restaurant accoutrement. I didn’t even think twice about following her now, heady from the drinks, my stomach satiated. Kimchi dumplings, cheesy empanadas and duck spring rolls. Chicken karaage, gyoza and golden brown duckfat fries. We’d eaten our share of the menu and much more. The bourbon, neat, flowed like water. The laughter, the music, the way her fingers teased and tormented me. The warmth of her lips. The way her hands slipped inside my dress to squeeze my breasts and pull on my nipples. A button lost somewhere, two, casualties of her own intoxication. The top of the Dior dress hanging open now, giving her more access to my body.
Access I happily granted.
Upstairs, the light and music fell away, and we walked into something like a dream. An erotic dream. The whole place was a maze of blood red curtains and dim lighting dropping down from the darkness overhead. Women, all shapes and sizes, nestled in half-hidden cubbies, portières half drawn revealing naked breasts, mouths flowing with drink and lusty laughter. Furtive glances brimmed with curiosity as we strode by, Angelica’s hand gripping mine and pulling me through to a back corner, where Kyoto stood like a palace guard.
She pulled the curtain when we slipped by, leaving us in our own little quiet corner, deep shadows and the thrum of the music on the first floor like pulsing thunder underfoot. Angelica spun and dropped onto a slender sofa, staring up at me. A bottle of something chilled in an ice bucket with two long-stemmed glasses nearby. She turned the bottle to see the label, then turned back to me. She’d found her place so quickly, and I realized that I didn’t know mine. Or did I? Then, she pointed, a single long finger, a perfect black nail that came to a chiseled point indicating my place. She’d said as much when we’d first arrived at our table. Where was my place? I’d known then as much as I knew the answer now.
I stepped closer, my eyes locked on hers, watching her lick her lips in anticipation, and then I sunk to my knees before her. I was rewarded with a grin and the ever-present rush of need between my legs. She leaned in, her nose brushing mine, her lips dangerously close. I could feel the heat of her breath, the anticipation lingering in the air between us, an energy like I’d never felt before. What was I to this woman, I wondered? And what was she to me? An enemy? A mystery perhaps. I’d also thought she was a rival for Ellis’ attention. But now…
“Hands behind your back, Maddie.”
She paused while I complied, an order my body had no qualms with, that sense of longing between my legs growing, taking over, willing me to move.
“Grab your elbows.”
She smiled, watching me shift, stretch my shoulders against the tightness of the dress.
“Let me help you, my darling,” she breathed, and with a flip of her wrist, she loosed several more buttons from the dress, and my breasts spilled out as my hand reached the desired spot and grabbed on. “Perfect,” she said, her lips dancing across mine, then dancing away, leaving my mouth open, tongue searching for hers. She grinned like a devil, and pulled on my nipples, and I groaned as the pain shot through my body and hit my clit full force.
“I love watching you, Maddie. I’ve loved every minute of watching you.” She pulled, pinched and twisted my nipples, and I moaned again, my knees shuffling forward to ease the pain, or maybe just to be closer to her. “You’ve been such a good girl, Madison. I have a treat for you.”
Her mouth worked, her lips sparkling despite the semi-darkness, her voice mesmerising, perfectly in time with how she punished my nipples, and I found myself panting, mouth open. Her kiss filled my head, the way my breasts felt in her hands, how her pussy had tasted on my tongue. What would she have me do now? A treat? A reward for being a good girl, she was saying. A good girl. That phrase causing my pussy to clench, my lips to press together and my tongue to come up to form a single word.
“Please.”
Author’s Note: This is the longest episode of the series and marks a turning point in Madison’s situation. Is she almost free of the belt, or is this just another path to surrender?