“Oh.” So, not guilt, then. I’d thought perhaps that subconsciously at least he might have some guilt. Somehow I’d convinced myself that deep deep down his work was eating him up inside as well as the fact that I was more or less his hostage. I really wasn’t fully sure on that point. I had felt—up until the other night at least—like his house guest. Now I wasn’t sure what I was beyond... his in all the finality such a proclamation implied.
Shannon crossed the expansive space and sat in a large black leather chair across the room. From this vantage point, he silently and unnervingly watched me. Unconsciously, my fingers strayed to my hair to fix imaginary flyaways. I licked my lips. I became paranoid something was on my face from dinner. I straightened my clothes and shifted my weight.
“What are you doing?” I asked, finally unable to stand the silence any longer.
“I’m studying.”
This went on for another several minutes. After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore and sat on the floor.
“Did I tell you you could sit?” he asked.
“N-no, Sir.” I said, remembering what he’d asked me to call him when we were like this. I quickly stood back up.
“When we are down here, you make no independent decisions. Your only decision is whether or not to obey my orders immediately.”
I didn’t have to ask what would happen if I didn’t. Looking around the basement, I realized this place was even more of an outfitted dungeon than I’d thought. He must have kept some things put away during the party, because now that everything was out on display, I noticed there was some extra bondage furniture I hadn’t noticed the other night.
There was also a big box of toys and implements that hung from shining silver hooks in the exposed brick wall that hadn’t been there during the party. The recessed lights in the ceiling cast bright spotlights on everything. I stood inside the pool of one of those lights. There was an empty unobstructed path between me and Shannon. Was he waiting for me to come to him?
I was about to ask what he wanted from me when he spoke again.
“Are you ready to begin, Elodie?”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Y-yes, Sir.”
He stood and went around behind the chair and retrieved a couple of decorated bags that had clearly come from nice stores. He crossed the room, set the bags down at my feet, then went back to the other end of the room and resumed his reclining.
“Put the lingerie on. You can use the furniture if you need to sit for part of it.”
By this point, the contents of the bag weren’t surprising, though the quality was. Inside one bag was the most supple black leather lingerie: a mini-skirt with slits up the side, and a corset of the same color with material that didn’t cover the breasts. Inside the second bag were thigh-high shiny black heeled boots with laces that looked at though they would take ages to get on.
Shannon watched from across the room, his expression indiscernible. “I would like you to consider this performance art, Elodie. Entertain me.”
I started to remove the glasses.
“No. Leave those on. I like the way they look on you.”
I left them and slowly took off the shoes and dress I’d worn to his parents’ house. Music began to drift through the space from the speakers located near the ceiling at the four corners of the room. When I looked back at Shannon, there was a tiny black remote in his hand. The music was hard to describe—sort of an electric drumbeat with other lighter instruments layered on top.
Almost as if it possessed me, I began to move to it, forgetting to be self-conscious. He’d seen everything already anyway, what was a little strip tease? My panties and bra joined the pile, and then I began to dress in the lingerie as slowly and provocatively as I’d taken the other clothing off.
I was right, lacing up the boots took a small eternity. And I had to sit on a spanking bench to get it accomplished. The bench was just a few feet to the left of where I’d stood previously and had another spotlight shining on it.
I started to get up, but Shannon’s voice stopped me.
“Spread your legs and show me your cunt. Look me in the eyes while you do it.”
The last part was the hardest part. He held my gaze for nearly a full minute—I counted the seconds, my breath unconsciously held the entire time—and then his gaze dropped to the flesh I’d exposed between my legs.
“Stroke yourself. Feel how wet you are.”
My fingers moved between my legs, rubbing circles over my clit in light butterfly touches.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he said.
I was almost to the edge of my orgasm when he said, “Stop. Now, walk over to me.”
I started to walk carefully across the floor, afraid of damaging it.
“No,” Shannon said. “I want to hear the heels strike the floor and echo along the walls. You have to walk with purpose for that to happen. Go back and start again.”
I went back to the spotlight I’d been standing under and hesitated.
“Well?”
“Sir, I can’t. These heels will mess up the floor if I walk any harder. It’ll put little dents in it.”
Shannon smiled broadly. “And you’re afraid if you put dents in my floor, I’ll punish you.”
I nodded.