The River | Chapter 4

First Steps

When she reached the main gates of the estate, Caroline’s feet were aching, and her skin glistened with perspiration. The evening was still considerably warm, and the humidity from the river was oppressive—it was a relief to be naked as much as it was awkward, even terrifying. Twice cars had gone by before she’d even gotten a hundred yards from the road, and she thought she could hear them slowing down as they rolled by, feeling the eyes of the gawkers on her bare skin. Before she reached the inviting canopy of the first oak, a pair of horsemen cantered by—hands on the plantation, both of them younger than she was, both unabashedly ogling her. They, too, slowed as they neared her, whispering to themselves a little too loudly. She could hear everything they said, as if it were amplified by the oak-lined lane and routed directly to her waiting ears. She kept moving, hoping the thumping of her heart would drown out the rough words and coarse language. It was everything she’d expected to hear, everything she’d have thought a man would say given the circumstances, but it was disconcerting to consider that not only were those crude references aimed at her, but that she was powerless to stop them. Not even an angry glance would she chance; this was not the real world anymore. And she had no idea where Ethan would be and what he would tolerate. Could he see her? Would he just give her a warning? Or would she, as the young Ms. Benedict had explained, be punished for her indiscretion “publicly and without mercy”?

Caroline ignored it, concentrating, trying to push off the feelings of exposure and vulnerability and shame that crept across her naked flesh like the rays of the villainous sun exposing her every crook and crevice, every flaw and every imperfection. There was nothing to be done now. They had seen what they wanted to see and rode off, and it wouldn’t be the first time. She knew better than that.

Underneath the trees, their massive trunks like living monuments climbing skyward on either side of her, she pressed on, feeling the sudden change in temperature as the great canopy above blotted out both the sky and the fading sunlight. The trunks, like guardians of the grand house before her and testament to its magnificence, lined the blacktop and provided a natural air conditioning system. Already she could feel how the bitterly warm breezes from the river were cooler here, feel the chilled air between her legs and flashing across her nipples. How many times would she experience that feeling again, she wondered, or would she simply forget after a few days, a few weeks, that she was naked and exposed? Would she normalize it? Would it become routine to walk the house and the grounds as nothing but a naked slave? To crawl? She’d spoken to Ethan about that at length during the meeting in the tavern, where she’d agreed to give herself to him, where she’d submitted for the first time and felt his fingers invading her while another man watched. It was there that he’d hinted at what would come, at what would be the norm for her, and yet it had seemed like a dream them, as it did even now, and she could barely remember the words, only the feelings, only the sudden orgasm that he’d so expertly coaxed from her cunt. But the breeze told her it was real, and when she felt it again, she realized how wet she’d become.

The house had grown ever larger, but it still seemed so far away. The heels, she decided, had to come off at the earliest possible moment, if they would come off at all. If it was allowed. She would have to hope that whatever lay before her would involve her being off her feet. She would even beg for it—he would like that, wouldn’t he? She could only imagine the various ways that Ethan would ensure that she was off her feet, how that would make him smile. Just the thought of it, lying on her back in some luxurious bed draped with white silks and adorned with plush pillows while he stood over her with an eager grin on his face, spoke to the clutter of romance novels in her bookcase and the fantasies she’d contrived over the years, married to a man who barely touched her.

But Ethan promised something entirely new. No more awkward fumbling with a high school sweetheart who had developed into someone she could honestly say now she didn’t know at all. But he was gone, as her aching feet told her, and only Ethan remained.

She’d only had the smallest idea what to expect when she’d spoken with him that first time, when he’d hinted at helping her. A little afterward, he’d called and said more, met with her in a coffee shop on Bourbon a few times and laid out his proposal right there in the hushed caffeine-laden shadows while he sipped his chicory coffee. Miranda Benedict, however, had been only too happy to oblige her with additional insight, having her sit in the limo in a way that was both utterly embarrassing and fully arousing while Miranda herself sat back in the opposite seat and spoke to her and ogled her body.

“That’s right, sit on the edge of the seat, my dear. Legs spread. No, wider. I want to see the little flower you’re giving to your new Master.” Mr. Kingfisher’s special assistant had leaned back into the cushy black leather and sipped at the drink she’d had waiting. “Hands behind your back. That’s a good girl. Now, grab your elbows and don’t let go. That’s how your Master wants you—open and ready, always on display. And when he’s done training you, you won’t blush like you do now. You won’t feel nervous or awkward when everyone around you can see that quivering little pussy and how hungry it is. Your mind will be elsewhere, thinking about your Master’s cock, and you’ll just be desperately waiting for him to fuck you again. Never mind all those who’ll stare. You’ll have given up caring. You’ll be willing to show them everything.”

Her words had been a perfect poison, crafted with an expertise she’d likely gained from experience with her boss, and they’d done exactly what she’d hoped they would: leave Caroline feeling exposed and ashamed and yet charged and needy. There on the back seat of the limo she felt the flood of wetness between her legs and the cool jets of the air conditioner blowing across her tingling clit. It was as if the car had been designed for that specific torture in mind as it moved quietly and smoothly from her building, crawling down Canal Street until it began its winding trip to the west and left the Crescent City behind.

Caroline took another step, then another, her toes cramping, the aches in her calves and thighs building. What she wouldn’t give to be sitting in that luxurious car again, even if it meant being exposed to the hungry eyes of the little lascivious blonde. And yet, during the ride, she’d been nothing more than desperate to close her legs, to cover up and hide. Circumstances. Being exposed like that, even in a private situation, such as it was, was difficult enough. It had almost been a relief when Miranda finished her drink and ordered the busty brunette to close her legs and get on her knees. But that had brought Caroline to her knees before a woman for the first time, the woman who for the moment ruled her world. It was a transition, she understood, an opportunity to ease her into the life that she was about to lead on a great plantation full of people, where there would be no more privacy and no backing out, where she would learn to be completely vulnerable. As Miranda had said when she first arrived, she was there to ease Caroline into her new role, and she promised to use kid gloves in doing so, for once they arrived at the plantation, all bets were off.

They’d stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and Caroline wondered if there was a kiss coming. It seemed natural based on the way Miranda gazed at her, as if there was some kind of connection, some kind of understanding or communication going on that Caroline was missing. But whatever it was, she couldn’t pick up on it, only hear Miranda’s shallow breathing and then her sudden declaration that it was time for the slave to learn her place. Reaching down, she hiked up her tweed skirt, exposing a hairless cunt framed by a faint bikini tan line, and pulled Caroline forward by her hair. “It’s high time you learn to eat pussy, slave. You’re going to be lapping at enough of it sooner or later, and I can think of nothing better than for you to start with mine.” She leaned back, pulling Caroline’s head forward and down until she felt their lips touch, wet tongue against wetter labia. “Make me cum,” she commanded and leaned back.

Caroline had obliged, a mixture of feelings coursing through her in rapid succession—anxiety, then a sudden eagerness to please, then lust as the blonde began to moan and writhe in the seat, then an incredible satisfaction when she felt the woman orgasm against her tongue. And then a sudden feeling of emptiness—not an emptiness in her heart or her soul, but an emptiness between her legs, a powerful void that ached to be filled. She yearned for Miranda to reach between her legs and touch her there, to feel the throbbing nub between her legs, but before she knew it, Caroline ordered her back up into the sitting position, legs open while her need churned in her belly, her swollen lips quivering as she watched Miranda stroke herself casually and smile.

“What a good little bitch you are, Caroline. Master will be so pleased.”

Just then the sun tipped behind the horizon, leaving long shadows cutting across the vast lawn in front of the house. On either side of the long driveway, high black lamps, like ancient gas lamps, glowed to life. Caroline pushed on, feeling the end of the long walk coming, feeling the pain in her legs with each step, an agony that she was sure would be repeated again and again. Miranda had said as much. The little blonde had given her very little in the way of clues as far as what to expect, but she had provided the stilettos, which fit perfectly. “There will be times,” she said, sipping on a bottle of clear water, “ that you will suffer pain and torment, that you will wish for it all to end, that you will wonder why you have let go of your life and given it to someone else. These times will come when you least expect them to -- when your feet ache, but you must stay on your toes; when the simplest luxury is simply out of your reach; when the most expected given is taken away. It will be in these moments that you will learn what it is to serve, darling, not in the sex, not in the exposure, not in the mere words that you memorize.”

Caroline had heard every word, but at the moment, her thoughts were on the water bottle that tipped up to Miranda’s exquisite lips as she spoke. She hadn’t dared to ask for a drink, and it wasn’t offered.