If a million candles had been lit along my path, I would not have glimpsed a single flicker. The sound of the patter of my feet along a warm tiled floor suggests we’re in a hallway. There are no turns, and shortly the warmed tile changes to something smooth and slightly textured.
*Wood floor?*
The sound abruptly changes and my footsteps are loud and distinct and reverberating throughout a large space. We’re in the large room beyond the massive glass windowed entryway. Oddly, the sound is uncomfortably familiar. As we continue our walk, I also realize that we haven’t made a single turn. Mister Donovan isn’t guiding me around any furniture. I walk on no rugs. I realize why it’s so uncomfortable.
*This room is empty.* *There’s no furniture or rugs or anything.* *Odd…*
The only sounds in my ears are that of my bare feet slapping loudly against the wood floor as we move on. His shoes are soft and barely perceptible in his strides. If he were walking any further away from me, I wouldn’t have heard him at all. His hand is gentle on the back of my neck, but firm. He’s guiding me with purpose but not pushing me and I’m thankful for that. Soft pressure guides me to the left a little more, and in a few more steps I can feel soft carpet under my feet. Not too thick as to call it *shag*, but I liked the way the carpet strands feel between my toes. Mister Donovan guides me around a turn to the right, and we walk on about ten more steps until he comes to a door. I’m squishing my toes in the carpet when I hear the door open, and he guides me in. The sound of water bouncing off a tile floor in the distance sounds like a small waterfall in a massive cavern.
I am stopped while he closes the door, and I can hear the lock behind me. His hand returns to my neck and with a firm hand leads me towards the sound of the running water. Something brushes up against right leg. With the thick robe I can’t tell what it is exactly, but I imagine it’s the corner of a bed comforter that I just made contact with. We walk around something else, and in listening closer to the sound of the water in here, I realize that this room is furnished.
The sound of the waterfall has grown loud, and Mister Donovan directs me into what must be the master bath. I imagine the size must be impressive, as the echo of the water hitting the tile bounces around all over.
*I bet it looks amazing…fucking mask…*
The second we enter I breathe in warm and invigorating steam, and I can smell something pleasant in the air, almost minty.
*Eucalyptus?*
The tiles below my feet are warmed, like the hallway earlier, except they are much larger in here. However, even in here the air is warmed. Just as I start feeling a little warm in the robe, I can feel my escort’s hands around my midsection. My hands are still cuffed under the robe. He works the belt free, opens up the front and removes it from my body. There is no cold, only moisture rich warmth in here. The fact that I am naked in front of him surprisingly causes me no alarm.
*What are you going to do if he does anything?* *Run?*
I don’t want to run at this point even if I could.
*She’s the one in charge here anyways, not him.*
The thought of her triggers my imagination and I’m once again tied up in front of Mistress Kim, only this time instead of a whip or a belt, she’s holding that insidious red cane. The utter blackness in my vision behind the mask makes it easier to picture her. This time the lighting is dim; a dark red that illuminates only us, and I can see nothing beyond. Her cane reaches out to strike me…and I suddenly feel the welts on my legs. I gently rub my hands over the one on my right. I don’t recoil from the sting of touching the redness. I do the opposite in fact. I embrace it. With each sting, I picture her face and feel a sudden arousal.
My fantasy is quickly ruined by Mister Donovan, who puts his hand back on my neck and walks me about ten feet closer to the source of the water. The tile under my feet suddenly changes from very large and wide to very tiny and small. I can feel the splash of the water against feet. It’s hot but inviting. I can feel the goose bumps my body responds with. Being short, most things are above me and I can hear the nozzle of the shower head just above me but a few feet away. I am stopped, and my hands brought up in front of me.
**CLICK**
He has hooked the chain that binds my hands together to something, and I am no longer able to bring my hands down. His foot pushes against the inside of my left foot and I slide my leg out almost three feet from my right when he pats me on the shoulder to keep it there. Next, I feel his hands gathering up my hair together. He doesn’t pull hard as I can feel him put it into a pony tail.
*Nothing to hide now is there?* *Stop…stop worrying…relax…*
Next, I feel his hands gathering up my hair together. He doesn’t pull hard as I can feel him put it into a pony tail. After a few moments, I can tell he’s grabbed the shower head now because the sound of the shower head wobbles and oscillates in my ears. He starts low, on my feet, getting me used to the temperature. I quickly suck in air involuntarily as the hot water hits my skin, but I adjust quickly and my body soaks it up. I try to take as many deep breaths as I can to relax, and I start to feel calm. The water has moved up my legs and to my waist, and now around back. He is methodical in drenching me, but the heated air and hot water has turned me to jelly in his hands. The water is now on my shoulders, and my body involuntarily shudders at the encompassing pleasure the heat has. After several minutes, he stops and I can tell he’s replaced the shower head in its cradle, but kept it running.
Suddenly, my hands are yanked upward, above my head but not straight up. Over my left hand the loop of the leash to my collar is slid on to hold it in place. The water running down my arms slides off my shoulders or down my front. I can hear the distinct opening of a plastic top near my head. Next, my ears pick up the sounds of wet washcloths rubbing together.
*Wait, is he going to wash me too? Yep, he is…ok…*
I feel his hands on mine first. However, instead of skin, I can feel he has put on what seems to be some kind of gloves made of a wash cloth material. The sudden realization of what he’s about to do hits me and I tense up for a moment. He ignores me and simply goes about his business. He starts with my fingers, massaging in between each one, rubbing my palm and the top of my hands, and then both my wrists. By the time he’s on my shoulders I’m lost in the pleasure of the pampering. I can feel the soap sliding down my arms. He washes my neck, putting both hands around me several times, but he never squeezes, and he only washes up to my jaw bone and stops. When he starts moving down to my breasts, I have long since stopped caring. He washes under my arms, and gently around my stomach. I breathe in sharply when I feel his fingers momentarily slide gently between my lips below, and then back to my ass. He even cleans down between my toes.
My breathing is now slow and easy. I’m lost in the moment. He has finished washing me but has raised my arms above me now. The shower turns off and I can hear just the sounds of dripping from both my body and the now quiet shower head. I then hear him moving, and then his shoes making small splashes as I feel him walk up to me. The first thing I feel is a soft, thick towel on my hands. He takes my fingers in his hands as he goes to work to dry me off. Again, he’s methodical and gets between every finger, moving down my arms, to my shoulders, and my chest, then my stomach. He momentarily stops, and then starts on my upper back with what feels like a new towel. He moves down to my ass, and reaches up underneath. By the time he has taken the leash off and my hands down and put me back in the robe, I begin to understand why rich people like to live like this.
With his hand on my neck again, he leads me back out, and we’re back into what should be the master bedroom. As soon as we enter the room I can smell the food. I smell cooked meat and I immediately feel the water in my mouth. I swallow.
*Oh sweet fuck what smells so good?*
He guides me around the room and we stop, the overpowering smell of the food has me licking my lips. I feel his hands on the back of my head, and he undoes the blind fold. My eyes involuntarily close at the sudden influx of light. I squint and let them adjust and slowly allow things to come into focus. While my eyes are adjusting he has opened my robe and brought up my hands, removing my right hand from one of the metal rings. I rub the spot where the cuff was rubbing my skin and notice my surroundings.
I’m in a very large master bedroom. It’s a huge room and I guess that it must be as big the entire floor plan as most of the apartments I’ve lived in. Off to my left are the big double doors that we entered from earlier. The entire room is carpeted a light beige carpet, speckles with some blacks and browns throughout. The walls are painted a pleasant tan color with a dark red focus wall behind the bed to my right. I notice the ceiling and walls meet behind a decorative crown molding with elaborate corner pieces around the room connecting them together. The ceiling is tall, about twelve feet up at it’s highest, with two extensively lit ceiling fans, currently spinning on their low cycle. Along the wall where the front of the house is a large window in front me and a set of French doors further down that lead to I don’t know where. Large red curtains hang all the day down from the top of the wall to the carpet, closing off the outside world to me.
Aside from the large bed, with two nightstands, the only other furniture is a small table in the middle of the carpeted area in front of the bed. The table is set with a simple black table cloth, but what is resting on the top of the table is what has my attention. Mister Donovan is standing next to me but saying nothing right now. I’m staring at a steak and sweet potato sitting on a plain white porcelain plate.
*Holy fuck…*
The steak is small and round, but about two inches thick. It’s been seared with grill marks, and I can see red juices pooling around the base. The sweet potato is also small, but has been partially opened and mashed up. To the left of the plate is a small metal ring poking out of the table cloth. There is a large glass of water next to the plate, as well as another small plate with a dinner roll on it. Several smaller bowls include some condiments such as brown sugar, whipped butter, salt, and some kind of cheese crumbles that look bluish and white are nestled together next to a dinner napkin with a fork and steak knife on top. I can’t stop the salivating in my mouth.
Mister Donovan gives me a moment to take things in, and then motions to the black wooden high backed chair with the red seat cushion next to the table. I sit down. There are no armrests, but he takes my left hand, the one still cuffed, and hooks the other ring to the metal ring in the table right next to the plate.
*I’m not going anywhere, just let me eat!*
My robe has fallen open but I don’t care. I’m sitting on the edge of the chair looking at my food and wondering when I can eat it. I notice Mister Donovan fumbling in his pocket and I look up. From his pocket, he removes something and places it on the table and turns and walks away. I look and see a digital timer that reads 29:27…29:26…29:25.
*Thirty minutes, remember?*
I reach for the fork with my right hand and put it in the grip of my left hand. The handcuffs don’t allow my left arm much movement, but I can hold the fork enough to cut steak while I use the knife with my right. Red fills the plate as the juice runs out. The steak does not resist much, and I can tell right away this is finer than anything I have ever eaten. I cut a small piece, and take the fork from my hand to use normally. I stab the meat, and lift it to my mouth. As soon as it hits my tongue I close my eyes in pure bliss. The salty, warm beef flavored juice fills my mouth, and I gently chew the succulent piece of meat. I savor every swallow of juice before getting ready for the next piece.
*This is unbelievable…*
I focus only on the food before me. I’ve swallowed every bite before me and look at the timer. 21:23…21:22.
*Holy shit you pig…oh my god that was incredible…how the fuck do they live like this? What does she do?* *Being a dominatrix can’t pay this good?*
I involuntarily try to use my left hand to scratch my nose and am reminded of my predicament. The handcuff pulls tight. I try to get in a more comfortable position, but I can’t really scoot back far enough to use the seat back, and the chair is too heavy in my situation for me to pull it up any closer under me. I push the empty plates out of the way and lay my right arm on the table and then my head on the crook of my arm, my head turned to the left. My left arm, cuffed, is secured in a ninety degree position with my hand near my face. I close my eyes. The food is settling in immediately, and can feel myself succumbing to sleep.
Twenty minutes passes in a heartbeat. I don’t hear the timer go off or the door open, but I do feel a strong tug on my neck. I gag for a moment and my eyes open wide in fear and confusion, trying to adjust to the light again and figure out what is going on. I feel something cold and wet on my lips dripping down onto my chin and then onto the table.
*Great, you’re fucking drooling…*
I see Mister Donovan standing next to me holding the leash in his hand holding me up by my neck. I reach for the napkin with my right hand to wipe my embarrassment off of my face, but he grabs me and tosses my hand away. Without thinking I reach up to wipe my chin with the back of my hand, and he again grabs it. Instead of tossing it away again however, he grabs the back the of my hair with the hand holding the leash and yanks my head back harshly, forcing me to stare at his face. His green hued eyes are staring at me intently, and I feel real fear for the first time. He squeezes my hand tight…too tightly. I grimace and twist in pain but his iron grip has me in my place.
“ow…ow…” I barely squeak out in a high pitched voice.
He raises his eyebrows and nods to my hand as if to ask me ‘*are you understanding now?’*
With my eyes squinting in pain, I manage to nod. He lets go of my hand gently and I place it on the table, the power and strength of Mister Donovan securely etched in my mind.
*Don’t fuck with him…*
He unlocks the handcuff to my left arm and for the first time since arriving my hands are free. He then takes my left arm and lifts me up. Standing there naked, he puts the robe back on me, but this time my hands are in the sleeves. He places the blind fold back on me, and then leads me back around to the bathroom entrance. He stops me and opens the door. Soft music is playing, I don’t recognize it but it sounds classical. I’ve heard it before but I can’t place the artist.
*Mozart?* *Beethoven?*
With so much time spent at the library, it was hard to avoid being exposed to many different musical and cultural influences. I feel comforted by the soft, soothing melody.
Mister Donovan’s hand pushes me gently and guides me around the bathroom, twisting and turning a few times until he stops me, turns me around, and then pushes on my chest gently to have me sit down on a large chair. I do so. I feel his hands open my robe and take my right hand. I give it to him willingly. There’s a pressure on my hand as he’s trying to slide it through something, so I stiffen my wrist. My hand slides through what feels like a large, thick ring of leather and I can feel a small metal bar wrapped in leather towards the top that my hand can make a fist around and grab onto. I can also feel against the back of my fingers a metal half ring coming off of the bar that I am holding.
*What the hell is this thing?*
The leather around my wrist tightens snugly to ensure that no matter how hard I tug, it does not come off. He places my arm on the oversized armrest and I can feel him grab the top of the D ring that I’m holding onto, and then I hear a loud ***snap.*** He grabs my hand and pulls, and I feel the device resist. I grab the bar and tug a little. My arm is stuck. He grabs the other arm and I feel another contraption slide on. He secures it tightly and snaps it onto something on the other arm rest. I feel his hands around the sides of my chest and he lifts me up and slides me back in the chair. My arms pull a little but still have a slight bit of give before it becomes uncomfortable. He pushes my head back, but I feel his hand on the back of my neck as he guides my head down and into a soft groove of something firm.
*This is a salon chair…she’s going to wash my hair too?* *This is a fucking dream…what the hell is happening here…*
can hear him next to me and suddenly the chair starts moving up a little, and expanding out, flattening me. I’m nearly flat on my back when the chair stops, my head comfortably fitted in what should be the sink, and my arms secured at my sides, my hands gripping the steel bars in my palms. I take a deep breath and relax.
*Everything has been incredible so far, just enjoy it.* *You want her anyways.* *Let her do it if she wants to, it’s a once in a lifetime experience!*
I close my eyes and sink into the robe which, no longer secured by the belt, falls across both sides of my body, leaving me helpless and naked. There is no fondling that occurs. Mister Donovan does not touch me. I hear him walk away and close the door. I am left with the relaxing smell of Eucalyptus still in the air, and calming music echoing throughout the spa-like bathroom of this massive house. Only a few moments go by, and I suddenly hear from a different direction a different kind of foot wear approaching. Metal on tile.
****click****
****click****
****click****
****click****
****click****
****click****
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/kbjowx/hollys_talespart_6