Hello everyone, I am happy to be able to post Chapter 2 of the Operative of Obsidian story that I have been working on. Again this is an original work of fiction and it is only the first draft. Please feel free comment, let me know what you think. I'm hoping to have the finished story sent about for publishing.
Also, thanks to all of our readers and great followers for keeping us in your thoughts. It is always a pleasure to know that we are truly a part of this great community. Please enjoy...
Chapter 2
It was good to be home. The tall, oppressive black gates parted for her like a great beast eager to swallow her whole. The driver pulled the car forward slowly, following the winding drive to the House. She watched as the gates closed behind them, sealing her in. She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly feeling more at peace, feeling confined.
The car made its way down the drive, finally pulling to a stop in front of House Obsidian. A footman opened the door, kneeling to offer her a helping hand. She waved him off, climbing out of the car with ease. He instead attended to the luggage, pulling the two bags from the opened trunk.
“That one goes straight to the armory,” she said pointing to the heavier of the two.
“Yes ma'am,” the footman said, “and the other?”
“To the laundry,” she said walking away.
“Yes ma'am.”
The door attendant greeted her with a simple smile and a nod, opening the door for her. She nodded her thanks and slipped inside.
The foyer was cavernous and lush with vibrant plants. Ornate fountains teeming with glimmering fish flowed freely through the display, its own little ecosystem. A world within a world.
“Ah, Autumn, welcome home!” a glad voice called out. Humphrey, the head butler came to greet her, his hands outstretched. She smiled and offered her hands in return. He took them with a warm squeeze.
“So good to have you back, my dear.”
“Thank you, Humphrey. Its lovely to see you too.”
She always had a soft spot for him, he reminded her of her father. Though such attachments were usually removed during the training process, they sometimes remained. His bright smile and familiar British accent were always welcoming.
“So,” he said, turning to lead her toward the main stairs. “How did your latest assignment turn out?”
“Satisfyingly successful. How have things been here while I was away?”
“The usual, too frequent Council visits, mystery, intrigue, mayhem.”
“So, its been an easy weekend then?”
They shared a quiet laugh together.
“Are you hungry, my dear? I could have something sent up from the kitchens.”
“No, thank you. I'm just glad to be back.”
“I'm sure,” he said with a knowing smile. “Well, if you change your mind, do let me know.”
“I will.”
“Well then, he's waiting for you in his suite.”
She reached over and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Humphrey.”
He nodded and turned to go about his duties. She took a deep breath and continued up the stairs.
Even after all these years, returning to him still gave her goosebumps. A rush of excitement ran down her spine as she turned down the hall, the great doors to his suite just at the end. Her pulse picked up and she felt her breath quicken. She felt a slight draft flow over her, tingling the tiny hairs on her arms. Her whole being felt alive, like awakening from a dark dream to find one's self wrapped in warm blankets.
Reaching the end of the hall, she halted. Before her stood imposing twin doors carved with an ornate relief depicting the ancient history of House Obsidian. The work was immaculate, meticulous in its detail, and beautiful to behold. Such a history, a history she was honored to be a part of. She reached a tentative hand out to knock on the frame of the door and froze like so many times before. She was almost scared to break the silence that surrounded her, calling his attention sharply to her. Even if his attention is exactly what she wanted. Summoning the will within her, she rapt three times, awaiting his word to enter.
“Come,” his muffled voice called through the thick, ornate wooden doors. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. There he stood, examining several papers spread neatly upon his desk. He stood with perfect posture, his baring proud but not prideful. His appearance was elegant, yet simple compared to the extravagant opulence of other Heads of House. Graying hair kept short and in
check, his face was clean shaven, his finger nails trimmed short with not a speck of dirt beneath them. A simple elegance marked by meticulous attention to detail, the very definition of him. She thrilled at the sight of him.
Entering without a word, she closed the doors behind her. She reached up and released the hair clip, letting her wavy auburn hair tumble around her shoulders. Then, with a practiced ease, she pulled the long, black dress she had been wearing down her body. Stepping out of it and quickly and neatly folding the dress, she layed it on the floor. She then dropped to her knees folding her legs beneath her, back straight, head up, eyes down, and arms crossed behind her back. The position of a slave in waiting.
He said nothing, looking over what was on his desk. Autumn remained still and silent, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. Several long minutes later, he tapped the table with his pointed finger and walked over to an ornate armoire. From its shelves he retrieved something she had been longing for for days. He paced slowly over to her, standing agonizingly close yet far away. He reached a hand out in front of her face and she eagerly placed her chin in his grasp. His warm touch melted her heart, a heart kept cold by the necessity of her tasks. But under his touch, she was putty. She kissed his hand eagerly and he smiled.
He held the sleek polished metal collar before her face and she eagerly kissed it. Finally she thought lifting her chin to offer her throat. It slipped around her neck like the long awaited touch of an absent lover, caressing her in its inescapable grip. The metal click of the unbreakable lock resounded in her ears. A sound that meant she was kept, that she was his property once more. Nothing but an object, thoughtless and meaningless. Dedicated to serving him, subject to his every whim. Sealed into her place as his.
“Welcome home... my slave,” he said warmly. Autumn fell to the floor, kissing his feet in gratitude and adoration, over come by the rush of emotion that always accompanied a homecoming. She loathed each assignment, the objectives that would take her away from him, removing her from her coveted collar.
“Thank you, Master!” she said again and again.
“Up, girl,” he instructed, motioning with his hand as one would with a dog. She sat up, resting on her heels, her arms crossing behind her back once more. Autumn gazed up at him with bright, sea green eyes, full of longing and desire. Her heart fluttered just being at his feet again. The dominance he exuded simply standing over her sent chills down her spine. She had missed him, his power over her. She couldn't help but smile.
“That's my girl.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on the back of her head and pulling her against his leg in a tender embrace. She nuzzled his thigh with the side of her face, grateful for his touch, the warmth of his body.
His fingers wrapped around a handful of her hair and he pulled her forward. “Come girl,” he said with a gentle tug. She fell onto all fours and lithely crawled to follow, her pace quick yet graceful. Her round, ample breasts swayed with each movement as he led her through his suite to the Master bedroom.
A great four poster bed dominated the center of the large room. As ornate and carefully carved as the doors, its massive headboard depicted a wild orgy of old. Dozens of slaves being used in ways she was intimately familiar with. Its thick posts, to which she had spent many upon many hours chained, were carved into four identical, voluptuous women. Their arms stretched over head as if, like Atlas, they had been instructed to hold up the world. The canopy of deep red sheers draped over the sides, tied back to the posts with satin straps.
He brought her to the foot of the bed and released her hair, leaving her to remain still. Autumn resumed a kneeling posture, her composed exterior belied the excitement that gripped her. Her eyes remained downcast as she had been trained despite her powerful desire to watch every move he made. Cabinets opened and chains rattled as her Master retrieved the implements he intended to use on her. Sounds she knew only too well. Metal cuffs, thick and secure, hungry for her wrists. The clack of the wooden paddle against the cabinet door as he pulled it from its hook. A simple evening in it would seem.
He returned to her then, tossing his chosen items on the bed. Slipping a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to look at him.
“You've been a good girl, Autumn.”
Her heart swelled. “Thank you, Master!” she beamed.
He smiled back at her with a warmth in his heart that showed in his eyes. His fingers traced a line around her face, stopping to push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned her face into the caress, hungry for his touch. His hand then moved to her collar. Slipping a finger through the ring, he pulled her around to the side of the bed. A slight gesture conveyed his desire for her to undress him, a command she eagerly obeyed.
Autumn reached up, her hands gently caressing his thighs. Nimble fingers dancing over the smooth fabric of his pants, lingering for a long moment over the growing bulge. She loosened the belt, inwardly relishing the sound of the supple leather sliding through the metal buckle. Then she opened his pants, delighting in the sight of his cock rising up to meet her. A hint of his musk tickled her nose and her mouth watered in anticipation. His pants slid easily down his legs to pile at his feet.
She looked up at him with longing. “Master, may I pleasure you?”
His smile broadened. “You may, slave.”
She was gripped by an eager desire to gobble his cock down the back of her throat but the years of intense training easily took over. Teasingly, she breathed a hot breath over his head, her eyes locking with his. Her hands slid up his legs, gently caressing as she kissed the tip. He looked down at her, watching her every subtle movement.
She licked up and down each side of his shaft, tonguing his testis softly. The smell of his musk drove her desire, quickening her breathing and heart. Her teasing touch became more primal as she brought his cock into her mouth. Sucking lips locked around him, sliding up and down while her tongue swirled around his tip.
The effect it was having on him became apparent as his hips began pumping and his eyes rolled back behind closed eyelids. His stoic exterior began melting, revealing the sexual hunger buried beneath. His hand moved behind her head, his fingers wrapping within her hair and pulling her down on him. Autumn happily gave over to his direction, crossing her arms behind her.
Her Master gladly had his way with her, at times slamming his cock into the back of her throat forcing gagging noises and a few tears. She threw herself into her service, eager to take anything he forced upon her. Her arms tucked submissively behind her back, unmoving even when he choked her with is cock.
Autumn felt his body begin to tense and she hungrily readied herself for him to explode into her throat. Suddenly, he hauled her onto her feet by her hair, his free hand gripping her throat. He squeezed, stealing her breath, pulling her up onto her toes. She gasped, her hands thrown out to the sides as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. Head buzzing, she felt herself starting to slip into that black abyss when her Master threw her face down on the bed. She sucked in air, unable to keep a smile from her gasping mouth.
He was on her in an heartbeat, straddling her legs with a strong arm pressing on the center of her back keeping her face buried in the covers while he wrested her arms with the other. In moments, the thick metal shackles were locked around her wrists. He moved up her body to sit squarely upon her back, further pinning her and forcing the breath out of her chest. Autumn groaned beneath him, relishing the heat of his flesh. Her hips ground into the mattress.
Pulling her arms out in front of her, he chained her to the bed posts. Thus secured, he rolled off of her back and onto the floor beside the bed. She tugged at her restraints, comforted by their unrelenting grip and metallic rattle. Even the cold bite of the metal edge against her wrist was strangely soothing.
The sound of the wooden paddle slapping against her Master's palm grabbed her attention and she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. He gazed down at her with a cruel smile, the paddle clutched in his hand. He said nothing, just reached back and brought it down on her ass with a resounding clap. She tensed, moaning as the sharp sting burned deeper into her flesh. She let out a long breath a moment before sucking in more air as the second strike hit.
He continued to paddle her, giving her just enough time between strikes for her to cry out. Tears welled up in her eyes as blood rushed to her quivering, burning cheeks.
“Thank you, Master!” she cried out.
Apparently satisfied with the color of her ass and the tears soaking into the bed, he tossed the paddle to the side and climbed back into the bed. She felt him move up between her legs, his hands slapping each side of her ass, eliciting a squeal from her. Then he gripped her hips, pulling her butt up off the bed and forcing her onto her knees.
“You want this, slave?”
“Oh yes, Master! Please fuck your girl!”
“Greedy little cunt?”
“Yes Master,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face.
He slapped her ass again and she squealed.
“Beg, slave.”
Autumn eagerly began pleading.
“Please Master! Your greedy cunt begs to be fucked and used Master. Please let this bitch pleasure you!”
She couldn't turn to look at him, but she could clearly see the look on his face in her mind. A cross between lust and amusement. She could feel the head of his cock poised against her lips, rimmed with white moisture. He let her debase herself for a while longer before granting her heartfelt pleas. With one smooth motion, he entered her all the way to the hilt. She groaned, grinding her hips against him. Oh how she missed this, being completely and simply his. His grip tightened on her waist and she knew he had missed her as well.
Autumn craved this, these quiet times behind locked doors. They could truly be them selves, not the Head of House or an operative. Just a man and his slave, all the pretense and politics of the Society's world locked out. In these private moments her Master lowered his guard, that carefully cultivated quiet composure that made him such an effective leader, allowing the lustful, sadistic hedonist to show through.
He dragged his fingernails down her back, scratching long red trails over her flesh. She purred, feeling goosebumps spread over her skin. An exquisite pain; a sign of his desire and caring. He began to work within her then, slow and steady at first. She moaned, reveling in the sensation of being filled by him, of being used to please him.
It was obvious by his pace that he was in no hurry to see the night end and she was grateful. Her own desire began to well up inside, a hot pressure in her loins. He must have sensed her growing need because his hands clamped down on her hips, his nails digging into her. She groaned, suddenly thrust almost beyond the edge. However, she wasn't allowed to fall off into that inviting sea of bliss without his permission and she was not going to disappoint him.
“Oh god! Please Master, I beg you! Let me cum, please!” she screamed into the mattress, her voice thick with desperation.
“Really?” he asked with an aggravating calmness.
“Please Master!” she cried, her body shuddering with the effort to hold back.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“To please you, Master!” she blurted. “Only to please you!”
He said nothing for a long moment, dragging out her agony of teetering on the edge of exploding into a shuddering, screaming mass. Autumn whined like a dog, begging wordlessly because she was beyond words. Exactly where she wanted to be.
Finally, either taking pity on the poor girl or just interested in watching her erupt, he gave her permission. Erupt she did, lost in a tidal wave of blinding pleasure. He drove her hard, leaving her gasping and struggling against the chains. Finally she collapsed in a sweaty pile, sucking air.
“Thank you, Master!” she gasped.
“You're welcome, girl.”
He took her again and again, screaming into the wee hours of the night. She didn't have a clue how many times she came, shuddering on the end of his cock. In the end, they collapsed together in a puddle of sweat and sweet secretions gasping and laughing. He rolled onto his side and stared at her, hair matted to her face hiding the blissful smile playing on her lips beneath.
“Such a beautiful girl,” he said softly.
“Thank you, beautiful Master,” she responded with a chuckle.
He raised his eyebrow. “Really? Well, just don't tell anyone.”
Autumn laughed. She rolled onto her side as best she could, still bound to the bed as she was.
“I am so grateful Master...”
“For?” he asked, his tone sincere.
“Everything,” she said with a tear in the corner of her eye. “I am grateful for everything, Master.”
He smiled softly, reaching a hand out to brush a wet strand of hair from her face.
“My darling girl.”
She felt the tears welling up, a rush of emotion she often buried deep down because of her position. Stoicism, the curse of propriety she thought. It was only in these moments, naked in every way, that she was truly free. Freedom found in the chains of her owner, a concept only those who have experienced it could truly understand.
Her Master reached out and pulled her close, holding her against his body. Heaven, she thought. She snuggled up to him as best she could, nuzzling her head in his chest. The sound of his heart beating soothed her, as did the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Together, they fell into a peaceful slumber.
So, here it is. The middle of the school semester... again. The most stressful time for the both of us. A time when school work piles up and deadlines approach like devious little ninjas. A time when my girl is, by necessity, more a book worm than a groveling worm. 
