Her Father, My Master: Mentor (6 page)

Jess grabbed my chin with a hand and forcefully pulled my face back to hers.  "No, and this is exactly what I mean.  You've been distracted all week.  Is it Maddie?  Did she say something to you?  Do you want me to punch her for you?"

Momentarily snapped out of my weeklong trance by her fire, I couldn't help but laugh.  Jess' eyes were smoldering.  She was always such a firecracker, and with her flame red hair, it was really fitting.  "No, no," I said, trying to calm her down.  She wasn't pleased by my laughing.  "I guess I just realized there are more important things than high school romances."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Are you on drugs?"

"No!"

Now her eyes widened.  "No… it's another guy, isn't it!"

It my turn to widen my eyes
into startled blue orbs
.  Jess knew she hit her mark just then.  "Who is it?" she demanded.  "Is it someone at school?"

"No!  I mean, it's no one!"

"No one that goes here?"

"No one at all!"

Jess shook her head now, smirking.  "Come on Krys, I've seen that look on your face twice before.  You're in love.  Or lust.  Or something.  Spill the beans!"

"It's no one, I swear!"

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated motion.  "Whatever.  You can't keep him a secret forever."

"Yes I can, because he doesn't exist."  I was nervous, though.  Jess had knocked me out of my blissful state, and I spent the rest of the day on edge, just waiting for another onslaught of questions.

I was starting to doubt myself, too.  Why the hell did a man like Mr. Hendricks want to be with an inexperienced little dope like me?  He was drop dead gorgeous, he could've gone out into the world and gotten any woman he wanted.  Why did he choose me, of all people?  Was I just convenient to him?

I felt my nerves on the rise all through Friday, and by Saturday, I was a little anxious ball yet again.  It was even worse than last time, for some strange reason.  I knew part of it was because Mr. Hendricks hadn't contacted me at all through the week, and I was desperate for some sort of communication with him.  I didn't know if he changed his mind, or if he wanted to go through with this for a second time.  I had to assume from his silence that he did.

My parents could sense my growing anxiety, and they'd been concerned about my somewhat strange behavior all week.  My dad assumed that it was because I broke up with Joey, but my mom was slightly more perceptive.  She caught me on Saturday on my way the kitchen for some food.

"Krystal, can I have a word with you?" she asked as I passed her in the hallway.

"Uh, sure, I guess."  I hadn't been talking much to my parents lately.  Tensions were high - they wanted me to do things that I definitely do want to do, such as homework and clean the house.  But I had far more important things on my mind than keeping my room neat.

"You've been acting strange, and I just want to make sure everything's all right."

I recoiled defensively.  "Of course everything's okay!"
  Why did she have to be so nosy?  Ever since my sister left for college last September, she had no one to focus on but me.  It was getting aggravating.  "Why do you care, anyways?  Why don't you just go call my sister?  She's the good one, remember?"

"Oh sweetie."  I sighed inwardly
at those inevitable
words
.  I was going to get the guilt trip about how we were both equally important, and how dare I phrase it any other way.
  "You know we don't compare the two of you.  How can you think that?"

"Sorry Mom."  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  Why did she think that laying the blame on me would help me feel any better?  I knew she was just doing it to assuage her own guilt.  "I know you and Dad don't think that way."

"Good.  Now, what's on your mind?  I know it isn't Joey."

I curled my lips upward slightly in a sneer, at the mere mention of that boy's name.  I didn't like being reminded of his existence at all now.
  He did nothing for me, and only pulled me out of my euphoria surrounding Maddie's father.
  But my mom didn't know about the exact circumstances of our break-up and I just couldn't get her to stop talking about him.  "You're right.  I guess I'm worried."  That much was true.  "About colleges, and stuff."  That there was a lie.  College was the last thing on my mind at the moment.  But I knew the acceptance
letters would be arriving soon, so it made for a convenient excuse
.

"Oh, I see."  My mom patted my shoulder awkwardly.  Physical affection had never really been her thing.  "I'm sure you'll get accepted into your primary, and you know you don't need to get a scholarship.  We've got a fund for you."  I nodded, my mind drifting to other
things
.  I really didn't want to think about college at all, but now that I had her on the subject, my mom wouldn't shut up.

She was always going on and on about how it would be hard, but I would adjust, and that she had trouble adjusting too, when she was my age.  She'd gotten a D in French her freshman year, because she
had been
so stressed out.  I'd only heard this story a million times before, so I
naturally
delighted in hearing it for the million and first.

"So, you know your father and I will support you, no matter what," she concluded.

I nodded and smiled, trying to make like I'd paid attention to the entire conversation.  In reality, I was thinking about Mr. Hendricks.  How could he felt between my legs.  What an amazing man he was.  "I know, mom," I added to my nod.  She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Oh sweetie, I'm so proud of you, I just want you to know that."  She went in for an awkward hug, and I was feeling thoroughly confused.  What had gotten into her?

Finally, she let me go, and I spent as little time in the kitchen as possible, and ran back to my room with a peanut butter sandwich.  I didn't want my dad stopping me for a heart-to-heart either.
  Flicker snaked his way out from under my crowded bed, soliciting pets.  I had a feeling he knew I was nervous, too, but at least he didn't talk back.

And 
I was nervous.  I wanted it to be 7 already, but I had a few hours to go.  With each minute that passed, I was less and less sure about whether I should even see him again, or not.  This was so strange.  I felt completely out of my depth, in this
bizarre
relationship.
  And I knew it was odd.  But I didn't want it to stop.

Still, by
the time
6:30
rolled around, I'd once again resolved not to go.  I couldn't bear the thought of being rejected.  My mind kept rolling through all the scenarios that I might have to face, from him laughing at me at the door of his house, telling me it was all a joke, to him being an ax murderer and killing me the second I walked in the door.

Essentially, it was more of the same from the last week.

But yet again, by the time
6:45
rolled around, I was out the door, making my way to his house.  It was like the external force was controlling me, guiding me.  I needed more of this man, and I was willing to risk ridicule, or even my life, just to get it.  Though I didn't really think he was a serial killer.  If he was, he would've done me in last week.

Trembling in my thigh high boots, and not just from the slight chill, I now made my way up is walk.  Mr. Hendricks must've seen my little sedan pull up his driveway, and he was waiting by the front door; it was opened already, and I saw his form leaning against the threshold.

Part of me wanted to just fall into his arms the moment I was close enough, and tell him how much I missed him, how much I needed him, but something stayed my hand.  I had a feeling he would be aggravated by that.  I got the sense that he viewed this more as a business arrangement than any sort of romance.  We both wanted something, and we exchanged what it was we had, nothing more, nothing less.  But I knew I wanted it to be more.

As soon as I entered the foyer, he was on me, kissing me, groping me roughly, just as he had the week earlier, and I returned his advances.  My need for him had been building through the course of the week, and the fragile nervousness I felt simply popped, like a bubble.  My worrying had been for nothing.

Just like last week, he led me upstairs, to his room.  But there was something lying on his bed, glinting brightly against those ebony black sheets.

It was amazing how innocuous those
four sets of
steel handcuffs looked, just lying on the bed.  After all, they were merely pieces of metal.  But their sole purpose was the re
s
train.  He looked at me meaningfully as I stared at the things, and I knew exactly what he intended to do to me, tonight.

"I thought we should start your training, Krystal."

I gulped.  "My training?"  I didn't know quite exactly what he meant by that, and I felt like a dope for having to ask.

He laughed, a quiet, low chuckle, as he placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the bed.  "Yes, your training.  Before I can truly be your master, I must mentor you, so you know exactly what it is I want from you."

"I see
, sir
."  I wasn't certain that I did.  But I did know one thing.  I wanted to please him, and badly.  I was willing to do anything for him.  His mere presence sent shivers down my spine, and a familiar surge through my body.  He gave me a feeling like no other man.  I knew I would do anything to be with him.

He leaned in close now, pulling my head close to his as he embraced me.  "The safe word is 'gatling'.  If I go t
o
o far, just say that word, and I will stop."

I nodded, my hair brushing against his lips.  I wouldn't use that word unless I absolutely had to. 
I wanted him to take whatever he wanted from me.

Slowly, wordlessly, he guided me to the bed, urging me with his hands and body movements to disrobe and lie on it.  I eagerly complied, slipping my boots and dress off.  Soon I was
naked and
spread-eagled on the black bed sheets, my chest heaving with nervousness and anticipation.  I had no idea exactly what he had planned, but I trusted him.  I knew he wouldn't hurt me.

With exaggerated care, Mr. Hendricks took each set of handcuffs, and snapped them onto my wrists and ankles.  The cold metal was like ice on my skin, and I trembled slightly.  I was tense.  My entire body felt like a bowstring, taut and ready to loose its arrow.  I held onto to that feeling of tenseness, savoring it.

After he secured me to the bed, I tried to move my body, and found myself unable to shift more than an inch or too.  As if I wanted to.

Next, Mr. Hendricks held up a blindfold.  "We can skip this, for now, if you like," he commented, but I shook my head.  I wanted him to take me as far as I could stand.

His blindfold ended up being one of his black ties, and he slipped the smooth fabric around my face.  I was plunged into darkness, unable to see anything now.  But I could still hear things.  And more importantly, I could still feel things.

His mouth brushed against my ear, and his very touch was electric.  "Remember.  If you want me to stop, just say the safe word.  Gatling."

"Yes, sir," I replied.  My voice sounded like it was a million miles away.

I felt the bed shift, and heard footsteps.  He was walking around it.  Was he retrieving something?  I couldn't tell.

"I'm going to put something on your skin now," his commanding voice came out of the blackness, his words reassuring my rising nervousness.  I wondered exactly what he was going to do.  What was he going to put on me?

I felt something soft, incredibly soft, brush against my belly now.  The sensation sent shivers racing through my body, and gooseflesh raised on my arms and legs.  I felt hyper-sensitive to his sensual touch, and my back arched upwards.  I craved more.

And Mr. Hendricks gave it to me.  That soft sensation moved upwards now, and he cupped my breast with the fur.  I gasped and gave an involuntary moan, the feeling almost too much on my body.  The tiniest part of me urged me to use my safe word, but I immediately quashed that ridiculous thought down.  I trusted him, and I wanted to go so, so much further on my first lesson than this.

That fur now grazed my nipples, and I clenched my
useless
eyes shut, nearly seeing stars.  I was so sensitive, it was almost painful.  And Mr. Hendricks was unrelenting.  He swiped the fur lightly across my arms, my sides, my legs.  Then, he made his way towards my inner thighs.  Towards my pulsing, wet cunt.

"You're such a good girl, I'll bet you've never smelled yourself.  I bet you've never tasted yourself, before last week," he commented idly.

I didn't know if he wanted an answer to that, but I answered him all the same.  "No sir, I haven't."

"I thought as much."  Just then, the fur was draped across my pubic mound, pressing against it, and I gasped loudly at the sudden pleasurable sensation.  My torso wriggled as I squirmed and writhed.  I wanted more, so much more than that single teasing touch.

Just then, I smelled my own
somewhat un
familiar scent
.  There was moistness on the fur as it was dragged across my face.  "Do you like that?" I heard Mr. Hendricks murmur.  He was close.  He was so close.  I could feel the heat of his body against me.