Zack waited at the front door of the one bed flat, anxious for his taxi to arrive. It was dark out, and fine rain was just becoming visible in the amber glow of the streetlights. The faint jangle of his keys in his fake designer trousers made him realise he was tapping his foot again. It was a bad habit of his, but impatience and nerves always made him jittery.
The cab was ten minutes late, which meant he was too. But surely Tara wouldn’t hold that against him. At the end of the day, she’d been the one to choose the taxi company he was to use in the first place so she could hardly blame him for their useless service.
A cloud of white steam blew from his mouth when he spoke, the smile that just lifted one corner of his mouth causing an alluring dimple to appear on his cheek. He lifted his fingers to caress it fondly, knowing its effect on women, and a frown creased his high forehead. Soft scratching filled the air as he rubbed his jaw. Maybe he should have shaved after all.
“Nah, she won’t mind,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself. “She’s obviously after a bit of rough, or why else would she have arranged this?”
White lights flashed across the lowly blocks of flats opposite the one he was standing in front of, then a vehicle slowly rounded the corner. A battered silver Cortina crawled to a stop on the broken kerb just beyond the rusted iron gate and Zack pulled the front door closed, hearing the locks click into place.
Kicking an empty beer bottle into the overgrown, browned grass that was slowly encroaching onto the cracked concrete path, Zack stalked to the taxi. The door clanked as he yanked it open, a smoky, greasy smell invading his nostrils as he folded all six feet of his muscled body inside.
The door clanked shut and the car moved off before he’d even found the socket to fasten his seatbelt. Groping in the dark, he cringed when his fingers sank into something dry but squishy. Tara had certainly spared no expense tonight.
“Do you have instructions on where to take me?” he asked over the crackly sounds of jazz coming from the old speakers.
Zack pursed his lips and waited for the cabby to share his knowledge, but the overweight, hairy creature remained silent.
“Uh, would you mind telling me?”
“I’m taking you to Mrs Dalton.”
Huffing out an irritated laugh, Zack pulled his hands through his black hair, fixing his blue eyes on the back of the cabby’s head. Did the guy have to be so fucking obtuse? “I know that,” he said, losing a little more of his patience. “I wanted you to tell me the geographical destination, not what awaits me there.”
“Like I said, I’m taking you to Mrs Dalton.”
Zack squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed the bridge of his long, straight nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was pleased he wasn’t the one paying this dickhead.
Tara, he thought to himself. Tara Dalton. What will that woman do to me tonight?
He settled back in the torn seat and let his mind wander. He considered the night he’d met Tara’s father and the way his jaw had dropped when he was introduced to the old guy’s eldest daughter. She’d held her delicate hand out to him and he’d taken it, bending his head to kiss her knuckles. The diamond ring she’d worn over her elbow length black silk gloves had been the size of a grape and he’d realised then just how out of touch he truly was at that company dinner.
After the sit down meal he’d found himself at the edge of the dance floor, knowing he could out move every man there but not daring to approach any of the walking money, no matter how gloriously packaged it was.
Then Tara had appeared before him, resplendent in her black silk sheath dress and she’d led him on to the floor. He’d whirled her around for a while, secretly delighting in having his hands on something so above him.
Her body was to die for. She was small in stature but her curves . . . her curves were mesmerising. His hand had fit into the dip of her waist like it was custom-made to go there, and in her stacked heels, her generous breasts had skimmed his chest despite the socially acceptable distance he kept between them.
Zack was just thinking about how he’d walked away sweating after she’d slipped her fingers into his trouser pocket and taken one of his business cards – not to mention the meeting the exchange had led to – when the taxi rolled to a stop. The driver turned to him with a smirk, looking him up and down with disdain.
“You get out here,” he said in his cigarette roughened voice. “Building twelve, over to the right. There’s an intercom, use it.”
Zack stood on the crumbling pathway in the derelict packing district, glaring after the Cortina as it sped away.
“Arsehole could have tried driving that fast before he picked me up,” he grumbled, hunkering down in his black jacket.
He trudged through muddy puddles and thistle patches, making his way toward the dark grey warehouse that had ‘12’ written on the side in faded white paint. He wondered how a woman like Tara even knew the place existed, never mind what she was doing there.
Maybe it’s all a joke, he thought, unease bubbling in his stomach. I’m probably gonna walk in there and lose my fucking nuts, just for showing up.
Narrowing his eyes, he searched for the intercom button by the steel door. It was no use. He couldn’t see a thing in the dark.
“A red light would have been useful,” he complained, running his hands over the wall, hoping he didn’t come across any spider webs or their constructors.
A soft hiss of satisfaction passed through his plump lips and he pushed the button he’d located. Impatience rose in him again when a minute passed and nobody answered. She knew he was coming, the least she could have done was be ready to answer the fucking door.
Squaring his shoulders, he pressed the button repeatedly until static crackled from the intercom speaker and a nasal male voice enquired,
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, yes. My name is Zack D-Davis. I was contacted by Mrs Dalton and she asked that I come here.”
A red light appeared beside the button he’d been pushing and a low clunk came from the door. When it didn’t open, Zack turned the knob and pushed. A loud creak accompanied the door as it crept open and Zack jumped when the locks snapped into place after he closed it behind him. He was locked in.
He peered around, looked over his shoulder, taking in his surroundings. A long, grey corridor ran to his left, a warm light flickering at the far end, but to his right there was only blackness. A strong, defiant urge to take the darker corridor pulsed within him, but he wasn’t that stupid. He had made a promise and his word was his bond. Especially when it came to Tara Dalton.
His buffed and polished black shoes tapped in the silence as he headed for the light, the sound of his right footfalls slightly dulled by the heel that needed a cobbler’s attention. The soft sound of classical music reached his ears, growing in volume the closer he got to the light.
What is it he wondered, trying to identify the piece. His mother had listened to the classics but, just like most of his generation, he was more drawn to modern music. The sound became clearer and he grinned to himself. He’d recognised it just as it ended and what’s more, he knew the title.
“Overture to the Marriage of Figaro.”
Zack’s smile faded as he realised what he’d just uttered. She couldn’t have picked a better soundtrack. The title of the movie he remembered it from was quite apt. He considered turning back but a gentle female laugh tinkled through the quiet, spurring him on. He recognised that sound too.
He reached the open door and passed through, scrunching his eyes against the brightness of the warm, candle lit room. A hand grasped his arm and drew him further in, leading him towards what appeared to be the front of the warehouse.
Once his eyes had adjusted, he focused on the woman in front of him. His breath caught in his throat and he blinked fast. What did he say to her? Did he tell her she looked nice? Did he say she looked lovely as ever? Did he have it in him to lie to her?
“You look shocked my pet,” Tara drawled, stroking Zack’s arm. “Does my appearance displease you?”
“No,” he answered quickly, shaking his head in vehement denial.
“No what?” Her voice had hardened and Zack shivered.
“No, Mistress,” he whispered.
“That’s better. I wouldn’t like to think you’ve forgotten your manners after such a short space of time. After all, it didn’t take long to teach you them. Tell me, do you like my dress?”
Zack didn’t reply. He knew he’d have to look at her to answer and he knew better than to do that. He kept his eyes on the crumbling concrete floor, waiting for her to speak.
“I asked for your opinion, my pet,” she drawled, placing her fingers in the hollow at the base of his chin. “Raise your eyes and give it to me.”
Zack did as she said, running his gaze slowly up her body. The dress in question was black floor length PVC with thigh high slits up both legs. In front, not at the sides. The skirt skimmed her wide hips and the bodice hugged her small rib cage, bulging at the top, trying hard to conceal those enormous breasts.
“Your dress is…” Shit, what word does she want to hear? The truth, tell her the truth. “Terrifying,” he said finally.
“Oh, do I scare you my little pet?”
“Good,” she whispered. “Are you aroused by me?”
Zack huffed out a ragged breath, understanding there was no answer required of him. Her hand was flattened over his burgeoning erection, she knew fine well he was aroused and he knew fine well he was in trouble.
“What did I tell you last time I saw you?” Tara snapped, clicking her fingers above her blonde maned head.
“Not to be ready until you say so, Mistress.”
A chill ran down Zack’s spine as a black leather blindfold obscured his vision, the clammy hands of the person who fastened it skimming his neck, making him feel nauseous. He felt himself being spun around and someone tugging at the front of his jacket. It was drawn off his shoulders and he just knew it had been dumped on the floor.
Cold air hit his waxed chest as his shirt buttons were undone. Shame rolled through him when he heard his un-dresser snigger. It wasn’t his fault there was two buttons missing from the bottom. At least it was clean.
Trying to ignore the distaste he felt in his throat, he lifted each leg in turn when the man in front of him slapped his calves. His shoes skidded across the floor and he ground his teeth. Tara laughed, her delight spiking his anger while at the same time spiking his arousal.
I hate her right now, he thought, stilling his body, refusing to react for her. No I don’t, he argued in his mind, confusion warring with humiliation as his un-dresser giggled at the sound of his erection slapping on his belly as his tight black boxer shorts were yanked down his legs.
Once he was completely naked, the heat rolling off the bastard who had laughed at his cock vanished and he was left there, alone.
“What do you think, puppy?” Tara mumbled, the sound of a hand patting skin filtering through Zack’s ears. “Do you like to look at my new pet?”
Liar, Zack thought, unable to stop the arrogant smile tilting his mouth again. Tara had already told him the un-dresser had a tiny cock in comparison.
A loud swish whooshed through the air and Zack tensed. The tips of the flogger came down on the tip of his cock and he groaned quietly, wiping the smile off his own face.
“Walk,” the un-dresser snapped, shoving him around, prodding his back to make him go faster. Poor guy, he knew Zack made him look tiny too.
The concrete was freezing and rough beneath his feet but Zack didn’t dare complain. He knew the un-dresser was walking him around in circles, and he knew Tara was thrilled. He would perform for her without comment, but only because there were things riding on it.
Crying out, Zack stumbled forward. His knees had smacked into something hard. His hands broke his fall and he scrambled, feeling bare wood beneath him.
“HEEL!” Tara yelled and the un-dresser whimpered.
Zack was left alone again, on his hands and knees, ass in the air, just like last time. The sound of a determined, spiked heeled approach tightened every muscle in his body and he bit his lip, waiting to see who had earned her wrath.
“You let him fall, Puppy. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” the un-dresser replied. “Please forgive me, Mistress.”
Mumbles poured from the un-dressers mouth and Zack stifled a cry as his knees were slapped repeatedly. He parted them wider, stilling when a sharp slap on his arse cheek informed him he’d gone far enough. Warm skin stroked his cheeks, pulling them slightly apart.
“Show me you’re sorry,” Tara commanded.
Something wet and firm pressed up against his anus and Zack tasted blood. He’d bitten his lip. Damn her, she was doing it again. She was making the un-dresser . . .
“Aaahhh,” Zack hissed, sinking his chest towards the wooden floor, tilting his hips to give better access.
The un-dressers tongue probed and licked his anus, pushing slightly inside before his mouth made a seal and he drew in his cheeks. Soft slurping noises accompanied his mouth as it moved beneath Zack’s body, drawing one ball inside, then the other. Try as he might, there was no keeping still. It felt good and he hated it.
“Ah, fuck,” he cried as his cock was encased in a warm, wet cavern.
The un-dresser sucked hard and Zack began to panic. If he shot his load Tara would be more than pissed. The un-dresser knew it too and he was doing his best to suck it out of him.
“Enough!” Tara lashed, much to Zack’s relief. “Come to me, Puppy.”
Left alone again, all Zack could do was listen. He heard the deep male voice of the un-dresser give a soft appeal, followed by the cruel crack of a whip. Chains rattled and the un-dresser pleaded for a blindfold.
“No,” Tara said again. “You’ll not have a blindfold because I want you to watch. I don’t accept your apology yet so this will be your punishment. Open your mouth . . . wider. WIDER! Good Puppy.”
Gagging caught his ears and Zack knew what she’d done. That gag with the four inch dildo attached to it was a bitch. He let satisfaction that it wasn’t himself wearing it bolster him, but he didn’t let himself smile. If she caught him doing that he’d just end up repaying the un-dresser in kind and there was no way was he sucking any guy’s cock again unless he really had to.
Sharp, staccato steps echoed through the warehouse and he felt Tara come to a stop beside him.
“Rise,” she commanded, and he did. “There are four steps. Up them.”
Zack gingerly climbed the short way, coming to a stop at the click of Tara’s fingers. Her hand wrapped around his bicep and he flexed a little, hearing her quiet purr. He was urged forward, again onto all fours.
Cold metal encircled his right wrist and he shuddered despite himself. The clunk of the lock snapping into place made his heart skip a beat. If he was going to protest, now would be the time. They’d agreed that once the second wrist cuff was locked, he’d given permission. He kept his mouth closed and the second lock clicked with a finality that changed the temperature of his blood.
Once his hands were confined, Tara’s cool hand wrapped around his left ankle, drawing his leg to the side.
For fucks sake, he thought as he ended up on his toes. Why couldn’t she just let me… aaahhh. All thoughts of complaint bled from his mind as Tara scratched his exposed balls with her talons. Shiver after shiver stole through him, and by the time he came to his senses the toes of his right foot were pushing against the wooden floor, the second ankle cuff clicking into place.
Soft lips brushed against his and it was his turn to whimper as cold metal wrapped around his neck, the collar holding his head up. That was it. He was trapped.
Tara clicked her fingers again and Zack waited, wondering what would happen now. He tried to guess how many people were approaching by their footsteps but he couldn’t concentrate. Hot drips hit his back and he hissed again. The drips hit his legs and butt cheeks, becoming big, pouring splashes.
Many hands descended on him, rubbing what he knew now to be oil into his tanned skin. Finger nails scratched lightly over the places he had tattoo’s and he bit his tongue to hold in his moan as a small hand wrapped around his cock, another oiling his anus, getting him ready. A small prod had a fingertip sliding inside of him, but it was sharply pulled out after a loud crack of the whip rent the air.
The feet retreated and he was left alone with his Mistress. Zack tried to gauge where she was, but he couldn’t. Not until she moved. A squeak to his left told her where she was and all of his nerves focused on that side.
“My beautiful pet,” she whispered, “Oh, how I love to see you like this. Open, hard and ready for me.” The huskiness of her voice told him she was more than ready herself.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?”
I have no fucking idea, he thought. My imagination isn’t as warped as yours.
“If I’d wanted silence I’d have gagged you!!”
The whip swished, the loud crack worse than the sting on his arse. Pleasure ran through him and his confusion rushed back.
“Answer me!” Do you know what I want to do to you?”
“No, Mistress,” he replied quickly.
“I want to fuck you,” she told him in the same tone he told his mother he wanted eggs for breakfast. “I want to re-discover your body, my pet. I want to discover the new, too. Do you have any reservations?”
Yes, I fucking do! “No, Mistress.”
“Oh, good boy. I think I need to name you first. I have puppy, kitty, bunny and hamster. What should you be?”
Her hand cupped his balls again and her nails dug in. A low growl rumbled in his throat and Zack thrust his hips down.
“Tiger,” Tara whispered, her voice edged with awe. “You’re my tiger. But before you can truly be my tiger, I need to give you stripes.”
Her PVC dress brushed against his thigh as she moved away and he heard the swish of the whip. It came down across his shoulders and he bit his lip, burying his cry. Again and again, the cruel leather licked his flesh, getting harder as it moved towards his ass.
“Let me hear you,” Tara commanded, bringing the whip down across the sensitive skin at the small of his back.
Zack gave his Mistress her soundtrack, crying and groaning as she rained blow upon blow down his legs. Once she reached his ankles, she stopped. Zack heard a splash and a rustle, and freezing cold hands rubbed softly at his blazing skin. His moans were genuine; it was bliss.
“My beautiful striped tiger,” Tara said, pride clear in her voice. “You look spectacular. But my tiger needs a tail.”
Her heels clacked down the stairs and Zack heard the sound of keys and metal clanking before the sharp smacks of her purposeful stride brought her back to his side. She kissed him again and he could smell her. She smelled like cigar smoke, probably her husbands, and cinder toffee, what she affectionately called her biggest vice.
Zack felt her fingers probing his anus and he shook his head. She’s doing this to me and she thinks cinder toffee is her biggest vice. Crazy woman.
Thoughts abandoned him again and he gave himself to the sensations going on at the apex of his thighs. His anus was being penetrated, stretched almost uncomfortably. Almost. He wasn’t sure what it was she was using on him this time, but it certainly wasn’t the jelly thing she’d used last time. This was hard and gloriously cold.
Just when he thought he couldn’t take the stretch any more, her tool was removed.
“You’re gaping a little,” she commented and he wondered if that was punishable. He hoped it was.
What the fuck are you thinking, he berated himself.
Tara’s ministrations ensued and he felt something even harder being pushed inside of him.
“It’s your tail,” she soothed. “Your beautiful tail, my beautiful pet tiger. It’s a glass plug with your tail attached.”
Glass?! She’s putting glass up my arse? Before he could protest, a delicious stretch followed by a pleasurable pop told him it was too late. Tara tickled his balls with the end of the tail and he writhed for her, just as he knew she wanted. She moved the plug around, not stopping until soft pants were tumbling from his throat, his hips straining down until his cock brushed the floor.
“You’re so good,” she whispered.
She was in front of him again and he could smell her. But this time it wasn’t toffee. This time it was something else altogether. Soft hair brushed his nose and a hand sank to his own roots. Tara angled his head and he breathed deeply.
His groan satisfied her and she shuffled closer. Slowly, he stuck out his tongue and licked her pussy, her delicious juices flowing over his tongue. She was musky yet sweet and he remembered the taste, remembered how he’d lapped it up like a starving man the first time he’d had his head between her thighs.
“Oh yes, my pet,” Tara moaned, angling her hips, moving against his face.
Zack sucked and licked, being as free with his moans as she was. He was so wrapped up in her he didn’t even notice the plug being thrust in and out of his anus until the urge to cum gripped him.
Tara clicked her fingers and the thrusting stopped, but Zack’s tongue didn’t. He flicked her clit quickly, blowing cold air over her before opening his mouth wide and breathing his hot breath into her crotch.
Both hands buried in his hair, Tara began to shake, rubbing his nose over her clit as his tongue strained to get deeper inside of her. Her shrieks filled the room and her hair trailed over his shoulders as she came. Zack’s hips bucked, his calf muscles strained as he rode out her climax, revelling in the grip and release of her pussy around his tongue.
Once she quieted, Tara clicked her fingers. A few minutes passed before the plug was removed from his anus and Zack yelled as a thick cock replaced it. Tara yanked the blindfold off his eyes and he blinked rapidly. He knew it was her that was fucking him. He couldn’t turn to see, but he didn’t need to. The mirror in front of him was angled so that he couldn’t miss it.
Tara’s talons dug into his hips as her groin slapped against his cheeks, her sweating face contorted with desire. Zack watched the stunning woman fucking him and he fucked back as best as he could, trying to meet her thrust for thrust, despite the fact that she had him bound.
“Moan for me,” she growled, slamming into him hard.
Zack hollered, his legs trembling, toes cramping. Tara laughed at him thrashing his head and he stilled. His eyes met hers in the mirror and he stared boldly.
“Fuck me,” he mouthed, knowing only she would see. “Fuck me, Mistress.”
Tara pulled away and grabbed something he’d never seen before. It was a long flogger, but made from thin wooden dowelling. She brought it down across his cheeks and he screamed.
“You dare make demands of me!” Her voice ripped through the silent room and chains rattled on the walls. “You dare!”
Her arm raised above her head and down came the beater. Zack shouted out an inarticulate word, but it sounded like again to him and Tara cocked her head. Her arm lifted and she did it once more, a soft moan slipping past her lips at the sound of Zack’s pleas.
Two pets appeared as Tara repeatedly clicked her fingers, scrambling with the locks on Zack’s cuffs. He was thrown on his back and left there while his liberators scampered away. Tara discarded the beater, ignoring it as it rolled across the raised platform and down the stairs, grabbing a long leather flogger instead.
Zack twinged and jerked with each lash, keeping his eyes lowered no matter how much he wanted to look at her. He watched red stripes appear on his stomach instead, knowing she was completing the tiger look.
Tara stopped and considered him, her chest heaving with her exertions. She dropped to her knees, straddling his thighs and took his cock in her hand. One finger brushed over the tip and she raised it to her mouth. Zack chewed his lip as he followed its ascent, a supplicating noise breaking the silence as her pink tongue snaked out and lapped up the glistening bead.
“You do not move and you do not cum,” Tara instructed as she hovered over his cock.
Her warm pussy sank over it and it took everything he was made of to keep Zack’s arse on the floor. He yearned to thrust up into her but he didn’t dare. He’d only end up chained to the walls again if he did.
Tara rose and fell, fucking him hard. Her pussy was small and tight, but sopping wet enough to take every one of his nine inches. Loud squelching battered his ears as that glorious pussy rode him, his eyes fixed on Tara’s chest as her breasts bounced free of their meagre PVC covering.
Her nipples were rosy and hard and Zack longed to rise up, to take them between his teeth and bite. Almost as if she was reading his mind, Tara fell forward, dragging his hands to her waist. He held her, his eyes flicking to hers in shock as her hand slapped him in the face.
“Fuck me,” she demanded and that was all the encouragement he needed.
Zack’s heels dug into the floor and he raised his hips, lifting her, driving his cock so deeply inside he discovered the end of her. She cried and moaned as his mouth finally latched on to her left nipple, biting cruelly hard, sucking until it was angry red and swollen.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, not complaining when he flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the floor while he hammered into her.
He felt her body start to tense and he shook his head, rising up above her. His cock slipped out with a plop and Tara opened her mouth to protest, but Zack slapped her. He flipped her onto her front and yanked her hips towards him, sinking his cock inside of her once more.
Tara bucked and sobbed but Zack gave her no quarter. He knew somewhere in his mind he was hurting her, but he was past caring. He sucked his forefinger and the middle one too, laughing at her scream as he forced them into her anus.
“Come on,” he grunted, rubbing fast with his fingers, ploughing her deep with his cock. “Oh fuck, Tara, I’m gonna cum!”
“Oh God,” she sobbed, her false nails pinging off as her hands scratched at the floor.
Zack unzipped the PVC dress, ripping the skirt and letting it drop to the floor. He grabbed her blonde hair and yanked her head back, arching her spine and raising her hips, making even more room for himself.
“Come on, bitch,” he growled, ears trained on the squelching coming from between her thighs.
Tara began to tremble, her face raising to the ceiling and her mouth opening wide. Zack bellowed in satisfaction as she let go of a desperate scream, fluid splashing over his groin each time his body slapped off hers.
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” he chanted as his hips jerked, his cock spurting deep inside of his slave.
Zack let go of Tara’s hair and she sank to the floor, her body twitching, a small smile on her sated face. He massaged her butt cheeks before bringing his hand down harshly. She juddered, her smile widening.
“Happy birthday, kitty cat,” he mumbled, leaning over her to stroke her hair as if she were indeed, a cat, gazing around the walls at his chained up puppy, his bunny and his hamster, as well as his other pets.
“Maybe next year you’ll take my advice and ask for diamonds or a job at my bank instead of role reversal.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
Zack Dalton smiled as his most prized pet, whom he’d been married to for ten years, drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Maybe next year she’d ask to top again and maybe, just maybe, he’d finally be able to let himself let her.