Girlfriend By The Hour

Girlfriend By The Hour

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Chapter1 (v.1) - The Game

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 14, 2015

Reads: 6011

Comments: 6

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 14, 2015

A A A

A A A

"'At the beginning of play with your new character, you will be provided with rudimentary attacks. These will be preset to 1-10 on the keypad.' Well, that's a bit wordy. 'As your character levels, it will gain new skills which will fill the rest of the presets. To change the bindings'--bindings, lol—'visit the Controls Tab in the Grimoire or uncheck the Lock Bindings box in the settings menu and right-click Spell buttons on bottom bar.' Ulk, this reads like total shit. How much am I paying—?"

"I hate this game."

Andre glanced up, surprised by Amanda's voice. He was so absorbed in his review he didn't immediately notice she hadn't addressed him properly.

"Dragynfyre hasn't even been released yet. The manual's shitty, but don't hate the game."

"Not that game. This game."

She attempted to look up at him, but in lifting her head, her chest also pushed forward. She gasped in pain as the black silk cord looping from the rings in her nipples to the ring in her hood pulled taut. Rubber bands formed chains between the piercings and the rope to prevent injury--safety first--but Andre imagined the sensation was still quite unpleasant.

He tsked. "You deserve that for not calling me master."

Her head dropped backed down, but the awkward length of the rope pulling her arms back toward the black ceiling prevented her from taking a true stance of supplication. She shifted her weight between the balls of her feet in search of a more comfortable position, but that was impossible. If she dropped her heels down onto the cold, black slate, it would cause the rope between her piercings to stretch.

"I'm sorry, master," she whispered, her soft voice strained. "Please punish me for my rudeness."

He smiled. Amanda was well trained. His last girl had been dismissed before she figured out that his discipline was far more pleasurable if she asked for it. And he conceded that it was rude for him to be working while Amanda was tied up in the corner, although he'd never admit it out loud.

He selected a flogger crafted out of wide strips of supple black leather that would sting less than the thinner cotton ones. He even pushed her damp ebony bangs off her sweat-dewed forehead so she could see how she would be punished. His hand lingered on the tightly coiled bun pinned at the crown of her head like a ballerina's, wishing it was loose so he could run his fingers through the silken length. Alas, the bun was also necessity—loose hair easily snagged on just about everything in the Black Room. Safety first.

"I will give you a choice," he said, his voice thick as he grabbed the bun and pulled it back gently to force her head up.

Her bright green eyes simmered in an intoxicating blend of lust and fear. There was never a favorable choice with Andre, only trade-offs and devil's bargains.

"If you'd like, I can loosen your suspension so you can drop onto your heels. Your payment for this is two additional floggings, however, and I will not hold back."

She considered this, but the correct response was obvious. If he didn't hold back, it would be days before she could sit properly. "I choose to stay on my toes, master."

He let her head drop back down. "Good girl."

He dragged the strips of the flogger down her bowed spine as he walked behind her slowly, appreciating his knot work. Amanda was a beautiful woman; she wore them well. Her body shook with the sensation, or maybe it was fatigue. She was strong, but standing on her toes was tiring, as was the way she had to push her shoulders back and lock up her abdomen. She was ready for release, but Andre wasn't. Not quite yet.

The separator bar between her ankles provided him with a spectacular view when he reached her back side. Her core was slick and exposed, puffed in arousal. He used the flogger to snag the rope hanging from the ring, letting the weight of the leather pull it taut as he surprised her by sliding two fingers inside her and dragging them out slowly. Her moan died out into a sob when she reared back at the sudden assault.

"Please, Master. Punish me now," she gasped.

He tugged the silk rope sharply, and Amanda yelped.

"I'm sorry, are you under the impression that I don't know what I'm doing?"

"N-no master," Amanda stuttered, her voice barely more than breath as her core bucked against the onslaught of sensation.

Andre dug into his pocket for a quarter. Amanda jerked at the ping of his nail against its surface when he flipped it into the air. When he slapped it onto her back, she sagged under its implicit weight.

Andre leaned down so he could speak directly into her ear. "Now tell me truthfully, were you trying to tell me what to do?"

There was no right answer, only agreement with the coin. Heads yes, tails no. If Amanda chose incorrectly, the repercussions were severe. There was no reason to hold back the truth. "Yes, master."

Andre lifted his hand off the coin to see the profile of George Washington. The first president wanted Andre to go easy on Amanda, and Andre wasn't one to doubt a founding father.

He took a step back and spun his wrist to set an easy rhythm. The sound of the flogger as he again stepped forward and the leather made contact with her cheek was faint, nothing but a gentle breeze in comparison to what he could get from his whips and canes.

"One, two, three, four," Amanda counted in cadence with the gentle swats. She relaxed slightly, lulled by the rhythm, then squeaked out the 14 in a petulant mewl when she forgot herself and let her heels drop.

The fifteenth swat hit far more loudly. The recitation of the number was a moan.

Sixteen was even harder. She bucked on impact, her entire body shaking as her juices slid down onto the slate floor.

On nineteen she came again. Andre hooked his elbow under her waist and splayed his hand across her collar bone, lifting her off the ground with a powerful forearm as her knees buckled and threatened to give out.

"Can I get one more out of you?"

Amanda was silent for too long before saying, "Radio."

Andre frowned at the accursed word, but safety first.

He asked her if she wanted heaven as he carefully released her from the ceiling hook and cut the silk rope.

"In a little bit," she murmured as she folded herself into his arms and let him carry her to the adjoining room. He laid her down on the fluffy white duvet and she scrunched her eyes. She often complained about how harsh the transition was between Hell and Heaven. Then she eased her eyes open carefully and took in the ceiling, whites swirling against whites to create pristine clouds. When she seemed acclimated, Andre nodded at her. She rolled onto her stomach so he could massage soothing cream into her reddened skin.

"I think it's time you get a girlfriend," Amanda murmured. In Heaven, she didn't have to address him formally.

He chuckled. "Oh yeah? You hated Katherine, I recall."

"I did, and I'm sure I'll hate the next one. But you're more...relaxed in Hell when you've got someone to take out in public."

Andre sighed and kissed her gently between the shoulder blades, making her purr for him. "Fine, but you're counting to thirty next time."

She turned her head just enough to give him a meaningful glare. "Oh, and don't say lol. It makes you sound like a fourteen year old girl, not the CEO of an electronics empire."


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