Loaning Out Linda

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Girl in Chains

Several hours later Linda was naked, her body invisible below the neck, obscured by a thick layer of white foam. It was evening and she was back home, in Manny’s Park Avenue apartment, where she was taking a bath. Everything surrounding her was in sharp contrast to the tenement apartment she had shared with Alice. The bathroom was the size of a small bedroom, the fixtures sleek and modern. Manny had installed a sound system in the apartment that allowed music to be piped into each room, including the bathroom; before entering the tub Linda had put on a soft jazz recording. Manny was away on a business trip; he often traveled on business. This time he had been gone for two weeks, the longest such trip he had taken since they had been together, but tonight he was returning. She wanted to be clean and sweet-smelling for him; he would expect that. He had called while she was out to say he would be back, at the earliest, at 9:47 P.M. It was like him to be that precise; the stated time was so many minutes travel time from whatever airport he was arriving at, assuming his plane was on time. The implication was that he expected her to be there, waiting for him. She would be.

She relaxed amidst the hot soapy water, her eyes closed, inhaling the flagrance of the bath salts, and enjoying the gentle sounds of the background music. What would he do when he came home, what would he want? Would he spank her? She hoped so. There was nothing she loved more, not even s*x. The very thought of lying over his lap, of his powerful hands punishing her naked bottom was enough to set her p***y tingling. Perhaps he wouldn’t though; he might be tired from his trip. She couldn’t ask him to, that wasn’t allowed. But she could entice him.

It was time to get ready. She leaned over to pull the plug to drain the bath, then stood up and turned on the shower to wash off the soapy residue. A few minutes later she departed the bathroom wearing a terrycloth robe and slippers and headed for her bedroom.

Earlier Linda had given some thought to preparing for his return. He would certainly expect her to be there to greet him, but how should she appear? He would want her above all to be sexy; dowdiness was the one unforgivable sin. It was late in the evening so nightwear would be appropriate, a nightgown or lingerie. She had a pink silk camisole and matching panties which she knew he liked; but in truth she was never in doubt as to how she wanted to greet him after so long an absence. When he entered the apartment, he would find her naked, but a nakedness accessorized, as it were, by various embellishments symbolic of her servitude.

She knelt down by the left side of the bed and pulled out a hard black leather case. The case was secured by two metal snaps; she opened it and drew out several items which she laid out on the bed, then closed the case and pushed it back under the bed. Now almost dry, she removed her robe, hung it in the closet, returned to the bed and sat down. After finishing drying herself off with a towel, she turned to the items on the bed. First were two pairs of leather cuffs, each with a metal O-ring attached; she placed these around her wrists. Next she took two similar, though slightly wider cuffs, leaned over and placed them around her ankles. Then she recalled another item, kept not in the case but in a jewelry box. She went to retrieve it—it was a silver medallion Manny had given her as a present on her “anniversary”, that is one year from the day she became his slave. It had been specially made for her, at what cost she could scarcely imagine. Engraved in the center was a portrait of her in profile, presumably copied from a photograph, and which she thought a very fair likeness. Beneath her likeness was inscribed the words “Slave Linda”. Surrounding the portrait along the edges of the medallion was a thin circle on which was inscribed the words “Property of Manfred Owen”, the first two words along the top, the latter two on the bottom. The obverse side featured a zodiacal design, that of Pisces, which was her “sign”, a somewhat backhanded tribute to her interest in astrology, about which he liked to tease her. This other design made it possible, in theory, for her to wear it in public, although he never asked her to, pleased though he was to see her wear it at home. Nonetheless she avoided wearing it when with her friends as they might ask to examine it, and thus see both sides. Instead she took pleasure in wearing it while shopping, worn right side up but hidden underneath her blouse, something that gave her a special thrill.

After placing the medallion around her neck she turned to the next item, a black leather collar, two inches wide, on one end of which was a steel ring; the other end contained a slit through which the ring would fit. Linda placed the collar around her neck over the chain of the medallion with the ring placed in front of her throat. Then she picked up a small padlock which was in the unlocked position. She placed the U-shaped shackle around the metal ring; if locked it would prevent the collar from being removed. She did not have the key; Manny kept it somewhere in a locked drawer. Nonetheless, she didn’t hesitate, but snapped the lock shut.

There were three items remaining on the bed—two steel chains, each end of which she attached to the O-rings of her wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs, respectively, and a smaller chain, of the thickness of a necklace, and which had small metal clamps on each end; she attached these clamps to her n*****s. She winced; it was not her favorite thing, and Manny knew that. What better way to demonstrate her submission, her wish to satisfy his desires?

Linda stood up, walked to the closet and opened the door, inside of which was a full-length mirror. She stared at herself—naked, collared, chained and padlocked—and was pleased. She closed the closet door and went back to the bed. Glancing at the digital clock on the night table she saw it was 9:40. Then she had a new idea. She rushed into the bathroom; from a drawer below the sink she drew out a jar of Vaseline. Removing the top she stuck a finger into it, then placed that finger inside her anus and began lining the walls of her rectum. She applied some more until she was satisfied. After washing her hands, she took some toilet paper and wiped the residue off her ass cheeks, then flushed the paper down the toilet. Returning to her room she saw the clock read 9:45, which quickly turned over to 9:46. She had a sudden doubt as to whether the Vaseline was a good idea, but it was too late now. She hurried out into the living room and sat down on her knees in the center of the room in front of an easy chair that was Manny’s favorite chair.

Linda settled in for what might be a long wait, although he could possibly walk in the next minute. It depended on whether his plane was on time, and on whether he experienced traffic delays from the airport. She had been unable to check whether his flight was on time because she didn’t know what flight it was, or even what airport he was flying from. That he was flying at all was merely an assumption, although it seemed an inevitable one. If she knew the airport she might have had some clue as to where he was coming from. If it was Kennedy, it would likely be an international flight, probably somewhere in Europe. Then he would come home tired and jet lagged, perhaps too tired to have s*x with her; perhaps her appearance would even irritate him. Now if he was coming from LaGuardia or Newark, it was more likely a domestic flight, possibly to the West Coast, where it would be only eight o’clock. Optimistically she decided that the latter was the likelier possibility.

She thought again about Alice and the argument over the cake. She was glad she had resisted the temptation, so that Manny’s homecoming would not be marred by her having to confess to a violation of his rules. What might he have done, how might he have punished her? Probably not too severely for such a minor lapse, though she could never be sure. That was the difference becoming his slave had made. They had practiced consensual S&M almost from the beginning, but it was only then that she acquired the absolute obligation to obey him, and he the correlative right to punish her. She never forgot the first time he exercised that right. She had spent the afternoon visiting Alice, who was entertaining a group of friends, mainly actors and musicians (at the time Alice was working nights as a waitress in a jazz club) most of whom Linda didn’t know, but found very interesting. She was having a very good time and was reluctant to leave, and even more reluctant to explain why she had to leave; that day she was supposed to prepare dinner for Manny. Finally she called his office to say she would be late, but he had already gone. When she got home, she found him waiting for her in the living room; he had a grim look on his face that sent a chill through her.

“I’m sorry, I tried to call—” she began, but he quickly cut her short.

“Get undressed.”

“I—”

“Now!”

With nervous fumbling fingers she rapidly discarded her garments. As soon as she had finished he grabbed her upper arm roughly and led her into the dining room. He went to the head of the table where he normally sat, pulled the chair out of the way and left her standing in its place.

“Wait here,” he told her, then left the room.

Linda stood there naked in front of the table, staring at the spot where Manny had expected his meal to be waiting for him. No doubt that was why he brought her there. No doubt too he was going to punish her; she wondered what instrument he would use—the paddle perhaps? She was frightened, because she hadn’t expected him to be this angry. Soon he was back carrying something that frightened her even more; it was a four foot rattan cane. She had never seen one before, although she recognized it from pictures. How long had he owned this, she wondered? She also had some idea of its effects from some pornographic literature he had given her to read.

“Bend down over the table, arms stretched in front of you,” he ordered. Once she had complied he went on. “Brace yourself; this is going to hurt—a lot. I’m going to give you eight strokes.”

She waited, tremulously. The first blow caused a searing pain like nothing she had ever experienced before. A shrill cry burst from her throat, but this had no effect on Manny; he quickly followed with a second stroke, and then a third, doubling and then tripling the pain. She began to whimper. This too had no effect on him; the fourth and fifth strokes followed on schedule. The pain seemed past endurance and she cried out, “Please, sir. No more. I’m sorry.”

“Three more strokes,” he continued, remorselessly. Three more strokes then followed, which left her crying hysterically.

Her suffering left him unmoved. “Wash your face and get dressed, we’re going out to eat,” he said, speaking in his most matter of fact tone.

He took her to a nearby restaurant. Dinner felt like a continuation of her punishment; she had little appetite and her sore ass made it painful to sit, something he was doubtless aware of. Her distress must have shown on her face too, as the waitress who served them kept looking at her oddly, which only deepened her humiliation. Just being in public after the caning seemed to add to her shame. Manny meanwhile ate unconcernedly, and with a healthy appetite. He even flirted with the waitress.

They spent the rest of the evening at home but her ordeal was not quite over; just before bedtime he decided to f**k her Missionary style. The burning sensation from the caning still had not gone away and as she lay on her back the weight of his body caused her ass to rub painfully against the bed, adding a final fillip to her punishment.