Catherine The Matriarch

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Consecration

The extent of my freedom—or isolation—dawned on me when I made phone calls to put out job feelers. I wanted to cash in my chips for favors performed for others. But each “debtor” knew why I was calling before I could drop a hint, and the universal answer was “No.”

During my first few calls, I broke the news subtly. Even my friends stonewalled me. They turned deaf ears to my unemployment. And they certainly refused to bring up the subject themselves. Then, desperately, I began blurting out my reason for calling: “I need a job!” I could picture the person on the other end recoiling from the phone. People either answered with blunt negativity or stammered over how to deny me any help. To paraphrase their thoughts: “I’d like to help you, but my ass will be in a sling if I do.”

Catherine Roman’s professional network was extensive and tight enough to seal off all of my career doors in less than an hour—drive time from Mrs. Roman’s house to mine. Later I found out she placed fewer than twenty calls. But each person she called relayed her message to a list of people, and the message was this: Frank Prince is blackballed. The people who received her decree passed the word to their designated contacts.

Turning off the phone, I felt depressed. Banking was the only profession I knew, and New York was the territory I knew best. Perhaps I could return to Western Pennsylvania to look for banking jobs, essentially starting from scratch. My chances in Eastern Pennsylvania would be slimmer because I knew very few people there. Mrs. Roman had seduced and abandoned me.

The phone rang.

Ignoring my usual custom, I picked up on the first ring. “Frank Prince.”

“Hi, this is Suki.” Her mildly slurry voice intimated dragging me into a sloppy mess.

“Oh, it’s you,” I protested. “You expect me to beg you for a job? Forget it.”

“Don’t hang up. Mrs. Roman asked me to call.”

“Really?!” Just like that, she hooked me. “May I speak to her?”

“Martin took her shopping. She’s preparing for the return of the prodigal son. That’s you.”

“Sweet!”

“She asked me to pick you up. I’ve been trying to call, but your line has been busy for the longest time. And I prefer to talk to you, not your answer machine.”

“Yeah, I’ve been on the phone awhile. It’s been a boring Saturday, so I thought I’d look for job leads.”

“Such a smart ass,” she muttered. “Meet me in the Wegman’s parking lot on the west side of town. I forgot how to get to your house.”

“Should I pack?”

“No, it’s a come as you are party. So, are you coming?”

“No, I’m just breathing hard.”

When I pulled my Acura into the parking lot, I looked for Suki’s red Miata. A constant procession of cars and people complicated my search. Circling a second time, I heard a horn and saw the black Cadillac Escalade Martin had driven. Someone in a chauffeur’s uniform rolled down the window and gave me an effeminate wave with a gloved hand. The driver wore sunglasses and a hat that covered all traces of hair. Had Martin come, after all? No, I spotted Suki’s beauty mark. Driving over, I parked beside her, jumped out of my car, locked it, and climbed into the passenger seat of the Escalade. Suki had the motor running and took off quickly.

“Why the shades?” I asked. “Secret mission?”

“Classified information,” she deadpanned.

“No one would notice us in this crowd of shoppers,” I observed. “They’re celebrating their escape from cabin fever.”

We were out on the main highway soon, and Suki pulled off her hat with one motion, freeing her blonde hair to cascade in the rays of afternoon sunlight beaming through the SUV windows. I vaguely, uneasily wondered why she had concealed her hair in the parking lot.

“Mrs. Roman’s giving you another chance,” she announced.

“What’s the plan?”

“Can’t tell you.” She pressed the accelerator harder.

“Give me a hint.”

“Leather restraints. Ball gag. Whip. I suppose she wants to play bridge.”

“At least a few rubbers—or should I say condoms?”

“I’m supposed to prep you.”

“My god! Are we talking about surgery?”

“I predict we’ll have to extract a woman’s high-heeled boot from your ass.”

I laughed hard. “Suki, I like this side of you. So droll. Why have you been hiding it?”

“I’m full of surprises.” She looked me straight in the eyes and gave me a smile that seemed to say, Wouldn’t you like to diddle me the way I’m shafting you?

I thought about the turn of events. Suki’s darkly provocative side could have distracted me from Mrs. Roman. But after tasting Mrs. Roman’s domination, Suki paled by comparison.

When Suki parked the SUV in Mrs. Roman’s garage, I felt at home. “They’re not back,” she said. “Let me show you to the dungeon.”

I followed her inside. The cut of the uniform blurred her curves. She resembled Martin from behind—similar height and slender build. Her feminine boots, mostly covered by pants legs, and her shiny gloves diverged from Martin’s ensemble. We passed through the parlor, up the stairs, down the hall to the kitchen, and down a flight of steps to a room that was new to me.

Calling the room a dungeon was frighteningly accurate. Ankle and wrist manacles dangled from one wall. Another wall displayed various dildos and—I could only guess—torture instruments. A large lavatory with hot and cold running water occupied one corner, and a wall cabinet filled with various bottles and tubes was over the sink.

“What do you think?” Suki looked at me with her icy face and smoldering eyes.

“Mrs. Roman is very thorough.”

A table on wheels, resembling a hospital gurney, was parked opposite the wall with manacles. The wall behind the table featured a large mirror—I guessed twelve-by-four-feet. Unobtrusive lamps and spotlights placed strategically throughout the cellar convinced me that the mirror was another two-way mirror providing ample photo opportunities for Mrs. Roman. Parked in another corner was a large mirror on wheels.

Suki noticed me staring back and forth between the wall and portable mirrors. “Vain, isn’t she?”

I shook my head in the negative. “Mrs. Roman rewards a man with her beauty while she hurts him. Her reward for whipping so hard is to see the man’s agony etched in his face.”

“She loves me more than she loves any man. Take off your clothes.”

I stripped and put my clothes on the moveable table.

“Stand over here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the floor. Mrs. Roman would have commanded obedience with a harsh glare. Suki drew her air of authority from her uniform, even though it was only a chauffeur’s outfit, and glistening gloves. The sensation of being ordered around by a woman again caused my c**k to salute Suki. Her slurred giggle sounded almost obscene.

Moving to the spot she indicated, I saw leather ankle restraints on the floor and two leather wrist restraints hanging from the ceiling. Suki secured my ankles tightly, leaving me spread-eagle, at a right angle to the large mirror. Then she secured my left arm but allowed my right arm to be free. She handed me a pen and held out a clipboard with a small piece of paper attached. “Sign on the dotted line,” she said.

Her wrist-length leather gloves gave her a bossy edge. She waited for me to sign the slip of paper. When she took it away, I said, “That looks like a credit card receipt.”

“I am required to get your signature.”

“But is it a credit card receipt?”

“Don’t ask so many questions,” she said lightly, pulling my right hand toward the other wrist restraint.

I jerked my hand free. “Answer me, damn you!”

Her eyes became slits. “You shouldn’t have said that.” Balancing on her left leg, she extended her right leg toward me. “Take off my boot and hold it.”

I tugged at the small boot, very sexy, and held it in my hands. Then I watched in horror as she planted her left booted foot as firmly as any punter in football and swung her right foot back. “Please don’t!” I begged without any trace of dignity.

But we were past the point of no return. Her right foot, looking so alluring in its stocking but so evil in its purpose, swung up smoothly and forcefully into my groin.

Immense pain shot through me. Her boot fell from my hands. Reflexively, my body tried to double over, but only my right side could bend over, and not very far because of the other three restraints. I braced my body until the pain subsided and held my breath to fight rising nausea.

Suki slipped her foot into her right boot. “Be a good little boy, and I’ll release your left wrist, too,” she promised sweetly.

When I whispered, “All right,” she smiled.

She undid the restraint on my left wrist and commanded, “Get on your knees.”

I silently obeyed.

She walked over and put the clipboard on the table by the mirror. Strolling over to the wall with the most paraphernalia, Suki grabbed a ball gag and carefully selected a dildo. She walked back to the table, placed the ball gag on the clipboard, and returned to me. Now that she had kick-started my attention, I wanted to placate her, no matter what she did.

“Before she arrives,” Suki said, “I must consecrate you. Make you pure enough for her to touch.” She stood in front of me and held the flesh-colored dildo in front of my face. “Ever use one of these?” It looked huge.

I shook my head no.

She dropped her pants nonchalantly. “I hope you haven’t used one of these. It has an ‘internal p***s’ so I can have fun using it.” She positioned the dildo just right and strapped it on. “Oh, that feels so good!” She pulled her pants back up, fastened the single button, and left the zipper down so that the dildo stuck out through the fly. “Don’t go anywhere,” she winked.

If Suki’s cruelties were preliminaries, what did Mrs. Roman plan for me?! Suki walked over and entered a door to the right of the large wall mirror. When she emerged moments later, she sported sunglasses again and wore the chauffeur’s cap, with all of her hair tucked inside. She held a small gadget with several buttons and a long wire leading back to the mirror. “I had to position and focus the video camera,” she explained. “I’ll cram this dildo in your mouth. Smile like you enjoy it. Slide your mouth up and down the dildo to put pressure on the stimulus down there. Don’t worry about what I say. I muted the sound.”

Without further ado, Suki rammed the fleshy, phony dong between my lips. The dildo smelled and tasted like latex. I thrust forward to meet her thrust and tried to fake eagerness in accepting her tool, even though I nearly gagged. I gripped her ass to balance her. From her reactions, I learned how to maximize the dildo’s contact with her c******s. Suki hurled verbal insults at me during her ascending ecstasy:

“You suck, Frank. And very well! Sure you haven’t practiced this?” Heavy breathing punctuated her remarks. “Guy buying the video,” she paused to breathe, “wants to see you blowing somebody.” Breathing. “Wishes he was the one!” Stroke, stroke. “But I wanted to do this ...” Breathing. “... more than he did.” Stroke-stroke-stroke. “You bastard!” Extended heavy breathing. “God, that was good!”

I wanted to curse her for being such a b***h, but when I tried to speak, my muffled mouth made loud, incoherent grunts. Suki laughed hysterically at my futility, and I grew quiet. “Just remember that I am consecrating you,” she cooed. After a pause, she thrust again.

I managed to catch a glimpse of the shameful image in the mirror. I think I actually could have ejaculated at the sight of Mrs. Roman in the mirror. But Suki lacked Mrs. Roman’s beauty, wildly arrogant attitude, and grace. Besides, Suki’s identity, except for her beauty mark, was hidden in the dull, gray outfit.

“Hold still!” she demanded. “Don’t move!”

Men have probably said those words to her in bed—their heat rising inversely with her coolness. I could appreciate her selfishness and clamped my lips around the dildo as tightly as I could and let her control the pressure on her c******s with her own strokes. Despite promising myself earlier to stay silent, I couldn’t help moaning, prompting her to thrust harder and faster. With another sense of role reversal déjà vu, I faked louder moans and increased her excitement.

She yielded to her overpowering urge to reach her second, quick orgasm. The tempo of her motion picked up. Judging by the way she thrashed around, I think she enjoyed the second climax even more than the first.

With a melodramatic, show-business flair, she announced, “And, cut.”

But still she wasn’t through.

“While I adjust the camera again, lie on your back with you feet toward the mirror,” she said, releasing my ankles from the restraints. “When I come back, we’ll do 68—you eat me, and I’ll owe you one. Oh, don’t worry. I’ll jerk you off.” Suki looked pensive for a moment. “What I’d really like to do is ream your ass with this dildo. But Mrs. Roman wants you to remain a virgin until she takes you.”

She scurried back to the door leading behind the two-way mirror. Emerging moments later, she placed the dildo, now wrapped in a clear plastic bag, on the table and returned to me. Dropping her pants, she carefully positioned her crotch over my face, lay across my body, and faced the mirror so that her upper torso shielded her lower anatomy from the camera. “And action,” she announced, apparently turning the camera on again with the small device wired to the camera. She began humping my face.

She also grasped my c**k and began jerking me off, using unorthodox hand-over-hand strokes with the coarse leather gloves that went with the chauffeur’s outfit. Her rough, uneven touch hurt my p***s. I yearned for Mrs. Roman’s skillful caress, but even Suki’s erratic grabbing subjugated me to her will. I could not resist responding to even her clumsy hand job. Like some manipulated animal in a lab experiment, I surrendered to my senses. She drove me wild when she milked me for all I was worth, but she seemed to prolong the achievement of her third, orgasm—literally rubbing my face in it.

After she finally finished, Suki turned off the camera and said, “Now I see why Catherine wanted you. You know how to use your tongue. I wish I could sodomize you!”

She hurried to the table to pick up the ball gag and the plastic bag with the dildo. After putting the bag in the sink, she returned to me. “Let’s put you back in those restraints.” And so I was soon spread-eagle again. Suki shoved the ball gag into my mouth and fastened it securely. Glancing at her watch, she estimated, “She should be here any minute. Don’t move.” She laughed at her tired, cruel joke and went back up the steps.

I felt vile and used, but the prospect of seeing Mrs. Roman again made me endure Suki’s punishment. I prayed that Mrs. Roman would see fit to use me again. Anything from Mrs. Roman—no matter how cruel or painful—was a blessing. I realized how much she meant to me. When I heard footsteps on the stairwell, my excitement became intense.

But my spirits quickly sank. The fiftyish woman with Suki was definitely not Mrs. Roman. The buxom blonde, squeezed into an earthy ochre leather dress, carried a matching purse. Her knee-high boots and opera-length gloves were a contrasting mocha, and her mink coat made her look savagely sensual and excessively rich. Her garish makeup lured my eyes into her vulgarly attractive face—a wicked, inflated antithesis to understated Suki. But ultimately her other features merely complemented the fleshy playground of her body, heaving under shiny leather.

This blonde bomber was also the opposite of Mrs. Roman in several ways. For one thing, I could feast a long time on one slap from Catherine the Great, or one lick—or kick—of her boots. But I knew I could screw this randy woman with the honey-blonde hair interminably until we were both thoroughly exhausted. And when we were through using each other, I still wouldn’t care much for her, and she wouldn’t care for me. She was the perfect model of physical ecstasy without any emotional involvement.

But at least she looked at me approvingly. “Catherine said he was about 45,” she said to Suki. “This guy’s younger than that, and not bad looking.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” Suki smiled.

The blonde patted Suki’s cheek, “You don’t do too bad yourself. Here’s your money—in cash.” She took a large stack of bills from her purse. “Ten thousand,” she said. “Count it.”

“I don’t need to,” Suki smiled. “Here’s your refund for what you paid Mrs. Roman earlier—and five thousand more for your inconvenience. A total of fifteen thousand.”

The filthy-rich blonde planted her hands on her curvy hips and winked. “Sugar, don’t bullshit me. I’ll take your bribe and keep quiet—as long as the payment clears. Whose card is it?”

Suki pointed at me. “Our good little banker always keeps his available credit balance high. The payment cleared, and he signed it. The money’s in your bank account. I could have maxed it out at twenty-five thousand, but I thought you’d want to hold some in reserve for yourself.”

The blonde’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “You nasty b***h! Do you offer lessons on how to shaft men?” She pulled Suki’s face to hers and kissed her flush on the lips. “You screwed this guy with his own credit card—sold him into slavery. God, you’re wicked. You gotta come see me some time, after I domesticate this guy. Maybe you can piss on him while he licks my toes clean.” She gazed at Suki in open admiration. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Suki said modestly. “Remember the slave Mrs. Roman planned to sell to you? He gave me fifteen thousand. He thinks he’s reimbursing me for buying back his freedom.”

The buxom blonde threw her head back and roared with laughter. “You made twenty-five thousand! Sugar, I couldn’t have dumped on him better myself.”

“He had it coming,” Suki glared. “He brown-nosed our boss to get his job—my promotion. Mrs. Roman fixed it. She tricked Mr. Templeton into giving me the job.”

The honey-blonde eyed Suki critically. “How is Grey? And why didn’t you seduce him?”

“He’s gay.”

The older woman smirked. “Not entirely. Speaking from personal experience.”

Thrashing wildly against my restraints, I tried to yell.

Suki walked over, loosened my gag, and removed the ball from my mouth. “Something to ease your pain,” she said, holding out a blue pill. “Take this or I’ll kick you in the nuts again.”

“How charming!” the buxom blonde laughed.

Suki put the pill in my mouth, and I swallowed. “Good boy,” she smiled.

“What was it?” the blonde asked.

Suki put the ball gag back in my mouth, tightened it, and flashed her most wicked punk smile. “Rohypnol—you know, a roofie.”

The blonde jerked and frowned. “I hate those things. He—Somebody slipped me a roofie on New Year’s Eve.”

“I got mine from Grey.”

The blonde’s eyes narrowed to slits. Then she faced me and covered her reaction with a throaty laugh—a nearly orgasmic sound. “That little pill will knock you flat on your ass. And I can truss you up and take you back to my dungeon.”

Suki consoled me gleefully, “It’s not like you have a job to go back to!” Her eyelids half-hooded her eyes. “I felt hurt when you decided not to suck up to me and beg for a job at Federal-Leviathan. I longed for that powerful moment of disgracing you by saying no. Then I’d hire you, anyway. To keep on humiliating you every day, month after month, as long as I stayed at that bank. But that was my ugly ego asserting itself, not part of my long-range plans. After I complete my mission, my real future is with Mrs. Roman—I mean, with her bank.”

She searched the floor for the lies she was about to tell me. “Mrs. Roman decided you’re of no further use to either of us and told me to get rid of your sorry ass. She knew her name would lure you here. But this task was beneath her dignity, so she assigned it to me. And I’m gladly doing her dirty work because—” She stopped. Her face was flushed.

She verged on confessing her love for Mrs. Roman. That part was no lie.

The honey-blonde woman ended the awkward silence. “Never mind the circumstances. Bottom line is you’re coming with me.” She gave me a smug, luxurious smile. “You’re gonna love New York City. I’ll make you love it. In fact, I’ll make you do a lot of things, or my name isn’t Honey Bates.”