SevenDeadlySinsSeries Read online

  “Come for me, slut. Come all over my cock!”

  Patricia buried it deep, twisting and grinding her hips into each and every thrust. She could see Missy’s orgasm ripple through her body as every muscle across her bare back tightened and tensed. Patricia pulled her hard onto the prick, holding her tightly as she endured the feeling of fullness throughout her orgasm.

  As Missy’s orgasm subsided, Patricia pulled her up to her knees, wrapping her arms around her chest. Holding her close, Patricia kissed Missy’s neck hard, licking and sucking her skin into her mouth. She held her there in that embrace for several moments before both of them fell to the blanket below. Missy rolled over into Patricia, and their arms and legs intertwined with one another. It was a peaceful, beautiful moment that I only wish I could have shared with them. Oh wait, my inner slut spoke up. You just did!

  I thought they’d never get dressed and get their things together. And once they left the remains of the old house, I stood up next to the window to watch them walking down the path back to Michaud Hall. And when I finally thought I’d seen it all, Patricia looked over her shoulder up towards the window in front of me and smiled. I edged back a step and to the right, hopefully completely out of sight. Did she see me? Did she know I was there all along?

  *-*-*-*-*

  I tossed and turned throughout the night, finally rolling over onto my side and stared at the clock. 12:30 a.m. I couldn’t get the thoughts of all of the Michaud’s secrets out of my head. I sat up, determined to find these damn keypads for the codes.

  Now if Mr. Michaud was as organized as his desk lead me to believe, then one of those key codes should be in this office. Grabbing my notebook off the bedside table, I crept barefooted down the hall and stairway, making sure not to disturb anyone. It was completely quiet, to the point I could hear my own heart beating. I tiptoed across the marble foyer and down the hall to his office, closing the door quietly behind me. I flipped on the lights and scanned the room.

  Hidden doors are always near a bookshelf, I thought, like the one Carlton opened for the safe. I approached the large bookshelf next to the fireplace. Seemed like the perfect place to begin. I looked up and down the built in bookshelf, and just inside the second shelf against the side panel was a key pad. I turned my notebook upside and looked once again. The first one, BR –BEG. Upside down it was 839. I punched the code in, and immediately heard the familiar click of a lock opening. The side of the bookshelf opened slightly, revealing a hidden passageway. I opened the door slowly, listening to the incredibly loud creak that echoed in the grand room. Great Liz. Very stealthy.

  I stepped through the open bookshelf and followed a dimly lit set of stairs that seemed to drop straight down to the depths of hell. It was cold, somewhat dark as my hands trailed along the railing that was bolted into the stone wall. Each step I took seemed louder and louder as I approached the bottom. Finally, I was at the bottom, and the opening gave way to a huge room. I could feel the light switch just inside the opening, and once I turned it on I was shocked!

  I’ve never actually seen a serious bondage room before, but this is exactly as I would have imagined. There were devices, racks, crosses, and several padded saw horses. My mind absolutely ran wild with possibilities as I wandered aimlessly around the room. I ran my fingertips over the studded leather sawhorse until the pièce de résistance caught my eye. The incredible hand carved four poster bed that sat upon a raised floor was identical to the massive bed in Carlton’s room in New York. It’s ornately carved posts were intimidating, yet oddly inviting and comforting to me. For a moment the thought of crawling onto it and sleeping attracted me. Being found here, in what’s certainly the most secret of all rooms in the mansion, kept me from it. Its heavy weight not only anchored the room, but made all other furniture feel small and insignificant in its presence. I could almost feel leather straps bound across my wrists and ankles, rendering me completely helpless as I was spread open and completely content to be 100% at my master’s discretion and will. I think I’m salivating at the thought.

  The creaking of the heavy wooden door at the other end of the room caught my attention, and I slipped behind a free standing armoire so as not to be detected. I recognized Missy’s voice immediately.

  “Strip, Slut!”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  I peered around the edge of the armoire and saw her in plain view. Missy stood tall, legs spread just a bit wider than her shoulders, and dressed in the kinkiest outfit I’d ever seen. Black thigh high leather boots with at least a four inch heel gave way to fishnet stockings that contrasted perfectly against her lily white skin. The lace tops held securely with six thick garters, the other end attached to a leather corset complete with stainless steel metal studs adorning the edges. Bright red leather panels covered by a fishnet material in a demi-cup pushed her small breasts up and out for everyone to see. Her strawberry nipples paraded atop the leather band, hard and firm, begging to be sucked. For the first time I saw Missy in a way that really stirred my emotions. She looked so in control, so fucking dangerous, so fucking hot.

  She watched Patricia undress, which incidentally was quickly becoming a habit of mine as well. Patricia’s large breasts swayed as Missy pushed her dress to the floor and stepped over her clothes. I couldn’t help but stare at her chest; it was a breast buffet down here tonight! I could hear her heels clicking across the stone floor as she walked up to the front of the very cabinet I was hiding behind.

  I thought I was going to choke on the fear of being discovered. I held my breath, and sweat formed above my lips as my eyes watered. I silently rubbed them while Missy opened a drawer, then slammed it shut and opened another. “This will do,” she said, before shutting the drawer and walking away.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and peered around the corner of the chest. I could see Missy walking away from me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Patricia standing completely naked, her hands clenching the top of that sawhorse. She looked straight at the floor, careful not to make eye contact with her mistress. I knew this procedure all too well as many a night Benton forced me to stare at the floor.

  “Spread your legs, slut!”

  Patricia did as she was told, and Missy knelt and positioned each ankle next to a leg on the sawhorse. Missy grabbed her firmly by the wrist and pulled her over the contraption, bending her at the waist as her breasts pushed into the padded top. Her ass was up in the air, and Missy quickly secured her ankles to the legs of the sawhorse with the attached leather cuffs. Missy moved around in front of her, pulling her arms out straight as she tightened the two leather straps around her wrist and clamped them to the opposite saw horse legs. Patricia’s long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and across the top of her back.

  “It was never my intention to share you,” Missy said, reaching down and gently stroking Patricia’s hair. “But just as you serve me, I too serve a mistress. And my instructions were very clear.” Missy slipped a blindfold over Patricia’s eyes.

  Missy knelt behind her, running her fingers across her beautiful tanned skin as she leaned in and kissed the back of her thigh. She showered the backs of her legs with kisses, then stood up next to her and pressed her body against Patricia’s ass. Her fingers gently spread her cheeks and ran up and down her slit. Patricia was wet, and her moans and groans did nothing but fuel the fire I had burning between my own legs.

  I edged out a little further now, trying to get a much better view. Missy threw her left arm over Patricia’s ass, tasting her sweet lover as she coated her fingers with saliva. With her left hand she spread Patricia’s cheeks, and with her right she trailed her fingers down her slit and over her clit. I could see her and her fingers spread her delightful lover open; Patricia knelt before for her, grabbing her own wrist to hold her hands behind her. “She’ll be here shortly,” Missy said. She? Who? What?

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “And to be clear, you are to follow her instructions precisely.”

  “O
h yes, Mistress. Yes.”

  Patricia’s moans and desires were evident, and their interaction once again held me mesmerized. I clenched my thighs, feeling the tightness spread across my own sex. At that moment I heard the heavy door at the end of the room open once again, and I retreated behind the armoire, listening intently.

  I could hear the footsteps, louder and louder as they approached my position. “Is she here?” the woman asked. I didn’t recognize the voice, but I had my suspicions. I swear with the accent, it was hard to discern.

  “Yes, Mistress,” Missy said.

  “Ahh, very good.” I could hear someone sliding a chair across the stone floor, unafraid of anyone hearing the screeching sound it made. “Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation? Get on your fucking knees!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Missy said aloud.

  More shuffling, and my mind was in ‘full speed ahead’ mode trying to visualize Missy dropping to her knees.

  “I don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to the point. You. What’s your name?”

  “Patricia, Mistress.”

  “Patricia. Yes, I know you. You’re the little slut that works on Carlton’s plane, right?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Tell me about her. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

  “Miss Martin?”

  Slap! “Yes, damn it! Don’t make me ask again.”

  I could only imagine where she slapped her.

  “She’s been seeing him for a couple of months now. Some kind of attorney in his firm.”

  “Is that right. And uh… Missy tells me that she’s into it.”

  “Into what?”

  Slap! “Are you really going to make me beat it out of you?”

  “No, Mistress. I don’t know. I think…”

  Slap! Slap! “God damn it, Missy. I thought you had her trained better.”

  Slap! “That’s for you having a worthless piece of shit slut.”

  I peered around the corner of the cabinet to see Missy with her left hand pressed against her cheek, looking truly emotionally scarred by the impression the slap had left there.

  “Yes, Mistress. Thank you,” Missy said.

  Turning her attention back to Patricia, “Now tell me slut. Is she, or is she not?”

  “She is, Mistress!” Patricia said. “I saw him spanking her on the plane.”

  “Really. Tell me more.”

  “I don’t. They got on the plane. Missy told me to test her, so I did.”

  “Test her?”

  “I always buckle Mr. Michaud in, because the belts are kinda tricky. So I did the same to her, except…”

  My mind scanned that memory. It was a good memory, one that I’d thought about several times since. She’d run her hands down my hips, dropping her cleavage nearly into my face. Hard to avoid, I defended my perverse thoughts. And her perfume; delightful. But it was her hands on my ankles as she removed my shoes. The firm grip. The tight way she held me as if to let me know everything was going to be alright. And the feelings and desires she started with the touch her fingers was completely acceptable.

  “Except I spent a little more time with her. Running my hands across her hips and pushing my tits in her face. I could feel her staring, and when I removed her shoes and held her ankles, I squeezed them. Normally, people flinch. But…”

  “But what, slut?”

  “She just sat there. She didn’t move. She made no effort to pull back.”

  “And you actually saw Carlton spanking her?”

  “Yes, Mistress. I stood behind the curtain that separates the cabin from the Steward’s station. I stood there, peeking through the curtain as he pulled her across his lap and spanked her.”

  “My my,” the mistress said. “Seems our little Carlton’s got himself a sub.” The mistress stepped back. I could see her hands on her hips as she continued her interrogation. “And Missy tells me there’s more. Said she watched you?”

  “I think so, Mistress.”

  Slap! I watched her arm slice through the air as it rained a flat palm down on Patricia’s cheek. “You think? You better fucking know.”

  “She… she was in the bathroom while I was in the room… playing.”

  “Playing?” she said, raising her hand.”

  “Fucking myself, Mistress!” Patricia screamed, trying to avoid another slap.

  “And why do you think she saw you.”

  Patricia’s voice was raspy now, trying to recover from the vicious slaps that had left her ass bright red. “I heard a noise,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I could see the bathroom door open slightly. I continued to play, just as my mistress instructed. And… well… when I was through, I opened the door and she was there.”

  “There?”

  “Standing there. She made no effort to cover herself. She was excited.”

  “I see. And you like her, don’t you slut.”

  “No. I don’t know. I mean, she’s nice. Very pretty.”

  “Hmmm…” she said, stepping back once again. Turning to Missy she said, “Get your shit and meet me at the car. You’re with me tonight.”

  Missy quickly scrambled to her feet and made a beeline for the door across the room.

  “And you,” she said turning back to Patricia. “She’ll be back in a couple of hours for you.”

  With that the mistress turned and followed Missy out of the door and up the stairs. Who the hell had let that bitch in this house? But I was pretty confident that I knew. It would seem that Kinsley Michaud wasn’t as unwelcome here as I’d thought.

  Now what? Is she just going to leave her there? I stood up slowly, contemplating my next move. I could probably walk right past her, maybe not undetected, but at least with the blindfold on she may not know who it was. As I approached her slowly I heard her soft cries. Her honey colored skin was covered in tiny beads of perspiration, and her ass was bright red from the slaps. I felt sorry for her, especially since she seemed to be caught up in the middle of something very, very weird.

  “Who’s there?” Patricia asked frantically. “Help me!”

  I don’t know why I did it, but I let the sound escape my lips without much thought. “Shhh,” I said, reaching for her skin. I placed my palm softly on her ass, feeling the burning heat rising from the welts. “It’s going to be alright.”

  “Miss Martin?” she asked.

  There was no use trying to hide my identity now. “Yes Patricia. It’s me.”

  “Oh my God,” she said. I slipped the blindfold off her head and released her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

  “Shhh,” I said again, trying my best to comfort her. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you out of these cuffs.”

  I spent the next hour getting her cleaned up and settled in Carlton’s bed. Apparently, her relationship with Missy had taken quite a turn since we arrived.

  *-*-*-*-*

  I watched her sleeping. Her honey colored skin showed little remains of last night’s experience. Her breathing was soft and slow, and her sun streaked dark hair flowed around her face, framing the most incredible sight. I could feel jealousy streaking through my body as I hoped I looked at least half as beautiful while I slept.

  I crawled out of bed and refreshed myself in the bathroom, slipping into a blue and white striped button down and jeans, and of course my trusty flip flops. I’m sure Chayton wouldn’t approve, and that thought humored me. I was overly anxious to be at breakfast and confront Missy. I had to know exactly what was going on.

  Chayton raised his eyebrows at me when I walked into the room, obviously unimpressed with my dressed down attire. “Good Morning, Miss Martin.”

  “Chayton.” I now had a confidence that seemed to thrust itself to the forefront. No longer were his facial expressions having any affect on me whatsoever. “Is Missy back?”

  “Back, ma’am? I wasn’t aware she’d left.”

  “Last night. After mi
dnight.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Martin. I’m not privy to her schedule.”

  No sooner had the words left his thin lips, Missy walked in with an unusual bounce in her step. “Good morning everyone.”

  “Miss Melissa,” Chayton said.

  “How are you this morning, Liz?” Melissa asked, taking the seat across the table. She made no eye contact, and it was obvious that the question was just a formality as she showed little interest in my response.

  Personally I wanted to scratch her eyes out. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t good. She’s lucky I just finished my period. Relax, I told myself. Take a deep breath. “Fine. You?”

  “Delightful.”

  “And how is Ms. Williams this morning?” I asked, watching her closely for a reaction.

  “She’s fine. Sleeping in this morning,” she said nonchalantly as she looked at Chayton.

  There it was: The first lie. I knew she had no idea where Patricia was, but she obviously doesn’t realize I do. Perfect, I thought, mentally putting on my detective hat. However, I knew this was an area that I must tread lightly, and she was probably not about to give up any useful information easily. In fact, the direct approach would most likely yield answers that would lead me on nothing more than a wild goose chase. But her underestimation of me should be my advantage. And it didn’t escape me that she cut her eyes towards Chayton. Probably nothing, but being the great detective that I was I realized it was something that should not be overlooked. Chayton’s voice sounded in my head, “Don’t underestimate…”

  In an obvious effort to change the subject, Missy asked, “Have you spoken with Carlton?”

  “Mmm hmm,” I said, my mouth now full with the first bite of breakfast. I chewed slowly not in an effort to be lady like, but really to see her reaction. She continued her oblivious look and buttered her toast. I took a small sip of my coffee before elaborating. “Spoke with him after dinner. Should be home this evening.”