The Toymaster's Castle

Chapter Nine - Dinner

But at last he did a bit of his eyebrow thing so I knew I wasn't in too much trouble!

"Stand on the coffee table, facing away from me," he told me, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "and assume your secondary punishment position: legs apart and bending over to grasp your ankles!"

He gave me a hand to help me stand and then guided me into position so that I was doing my straddle thing directly over his legs, which were still resting on the coffee table.

Of course, because I was naked, that meant he could just stare straight up between my legs at my private bits. I mean... it was impossibly embarrassing and totally wrong that he was humiliating me like this but, for some reason, it was stirring up really wild sex type feelings in my tummy.

He kept me like that for what basically felt like forever. "You're enjoying this treatment, aren't you?" he said at last.

"My body is..." I had to do a bit of a swallow thing because my throat had basically packed up... "getting wound up by it." I mean... he could see what was going on down there so there was no point in trying to deny it, "but my brain really doesn't like the idea at all."

"So, your body is captivated by the prospect of becoming a high-class escort, is it?" He gave a little laugh. "Well, I'm certainly not going to allow that! The best you can hope for is that I turn you into my personal toy... an object with no purpose but to provide me with pleasure and gratification!"

For some unimaginable reason, that idea kicked off the total fireworks thing inside me. And, before I could recover, I was gasping in shock as he reached up and started running a finger gently backwards and forwards along the length of my quim.

I mean... obviously I was appalled. I wanted to tell him that he wasn't allowed to do that sort of thing to me but I seemed to have forgotten how to talk... and, worse than that, for some reason I didn't even nearly understand, I really didn't want him to stop.

And then this low groan rolled out from deep inside me.

"And, as you can probably guess," he went on, all casually, as if he wasn't just playing with my private bits, "I've never been particularly good at sharing my toys!" Then, all of a sudden, his stroking finger was gone and, before I could recover, he'd given me a dirty great slap on the bottom which made me gasp!

Then he carried on inspecting me for ages more. "But you're much hairier down there than I like," he observed conversationally. "If I'm going to make you into my toy, we're going to have to get somebody in to tidy you up."

Of course I bristled at that suggestion but I kept my mouth firmly closed. I'm not stupid!

"Go on," he laughed. "You may say it."

"And I don't get any say in any of this?" I mean... I felt I ought to be totally furious about this but, somehow, that glass of ouzo... and the impossibly wild feelings that were churning around in my tummy... were making it impossible for me to think all logically like that.

"Of course not. If you're just a toy, you don't get a say in anything."

"You're just unbelievably arrogant!" I exploded.

He laughed out loud at that and gave a playful little pat on my quim that basically left me wanting to scream with frustration... though I wasn't exactly sure whether I was frustrated because he did it... or because he only did it once!

"As you now know, I am the head of a significant criminal organisation," he told me. "Arrogance could be considered to be one of the key personality facets that are required for that particular business rôle!"