“Me too,” she agreed with an affectionate smile. “Now, let me get this blindfold on you, and start getting you ready to stuff in my trunk. We’re taking the black car.”
I laughed. “You’re having way too much fun with this,” I said playfully.
She grinned. “I’d be lying if this wasn’t a little fun for me. Kind of wish we were doing this in my bedroom instead, but oh well. Now, turn around, young man.”
I did so as she approached and reached up to secure the leather blindfold over my eyes, feeling a lot like a comfy sleep mask, that was buckled and pulled tight in the back. And then, she took the black chest from me to put in her bag, having me put my arms behind my back, so she could get the handcuffs on as well, ensuring they were pretty tight, while checking with me to make sure they weren’t too bad.
She made a comment about us waiting a few minutes to make sure my hands didn’t start falling asleep, all while she put a silky bag over my head that she then proceeded to strap into place with a built-in buckle.
Shit, she really did have some kinky stuff, because even the bag was obviously made for foreplay.
After that, she stood in front of me, just lingering there for a long few seconds, her overwhelming maple syrup-like scent beginning to have a twinge of guilt and regret.
“I really wish we could socialize on the way there,” she said quietly, reaching out to gently touch my arm. “But obviously conversation will be a little difficult with you in the trunk.” She sighed. “But I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”
I frowned, though I knew she couldn’t see, kind of wishing she had above average hearing, so that it would be possible. “Do the back seats fold down or anything?” I wondered.
She sighed. “They do, actually,” she admitted. “But my mom doesn’t want you to know where she lives, so I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you completely in the dark.”
I nodded. “Okay, well my hands feel fine, so I guess let’s go.”
She didn’t respond at first, possibly nodding as well and not remembering I couldn’t see her, only to lean forward and tug down on my Polo shirt a little. She then gently placed her lips on my collar bone, sending a wave of warmth up and down my body.
“Okay,” she agreed, pulling away and grabbing my arm to lead me. “Let’s go.”
I allowed her to walk me to the back of the black sedan, hearing the trunk pop open, and then awkwardly climbed in with only my legs currently having free motion. Thankfully, the soft interior was actually pretty comfortable, with it almost feeling as if this was a brand-new car with how potent it smelt.
Indicating I was ready, she closed the trunk and then grabbed her bag, followed by climbing into the driver’s seat as the garage door began to open. We were then on our way a handful of seconds later, the sound of the garage door closing again growing more distant as we headed down the paved driveway.
Then once we were on the road, I focused entirely on my sense of hearing and strong spatial perception, doing what few normal people were capable of — I laid out a map for where we were going, doing my best to pay attention to the slight turns and angles of the road to maintain and idea of which way we were heading.
It helped occupy my time as the trip slowly passed, but I had to admit that it was boring as hell. At one point, toward the beginning of the trip, Mrs. Rebecca turned on the radio briefly, only to turn it back off, almost seeming as if she was determined to not enjoy herself while I obviously didn’t have anything to do to occupy my time.
Thankfully, she kept me up-to-date though, letting me know when fifteen minutes had passed, calling out loudly in hopes I’d hear her, and then also telling me when we were halfway there. However, it became obvious she started feeling bad about the situation as we got a lot closer.
“We’re almost there, baby boy,” she reassured me. “Another ten minutes and I can get you out of there.”
Of course, I didn’t bother responding, since I doubted she’d be able to hear me anyway.
But finally we were pulling up to an unknown location, the sounds of birds chirping in the trees, leaves flowing in the breeze, the noise of metal creaking as she pulled up to a gate, which opened automatically as if there were motion sensors controlling it.
I also heard the gurgling noise of a fountain as we began slowly driving down a paved lane, wondering if this was some kind of mansion, or a different kind of place entirely. Either way, from the sounds, I imagined it to be very fancy, and possibly old looking, while also clearly being well-kempt.
After we pulled to a stop, Mrs. Rebecca turned off the car and climbed out, beginning to speak on her phone as she walked around to the back, the trunk having just popped open, likely from a button she pushed.
“Yes, we’re here,” she said simply, only to rush to help me when I started climbing out of the trunk myself.
“Very well,” a surprisingly youthful voice responded. “I’ll send Gwen out to get him. In the meantime, I’d like to see you in the East Drawing Room, if you please.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Rebecca replied. “Do you want me to wait for Gwen to get here, or–”
“She will be out shortly,” the young voice cut her off firmly. “Please come see me now.”
“Okay,” she replied uneasily. “Be right there.”
She then hung up and moved to stand in front of me. “You doing alright?” she asked gently.
“Umm, yeah,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the trunk now with my feet on the ground, my hands still handcuffed behind my back. “Was that her? She sounded really young, like my age. And she didn’t seem like she was in a very good mood,” I added, starting to feel anxious again.
Mrs. Rebecca sighed, reaching out to gently touch my arm. “She’s just stressed, even though I reassured her you were safe. She usually gets a little snippy when she’s stressed, but that’s about the worst of it.”
I nodded. “Okay, well, I should be fine here,” I replied. “Better go before she gets any more irritated. You have the black chest with you right?”
“Yep, I do, baby boy,” she replied quietly, sounding almost as if she wanted to say more. “Umm, if you need to use the bathroom or anything, just let Gwen know, and she’ll help you out.”
I tried not to scoff at the idea of trying to use the bathroom in handcuffs, wondering if Mrs. Rebecca was being literal when she said this person would help. As in, she’d pull my cock out for me and hold it while I took a piss.
However, thankfully I didn’t need to use the bathroom right now, even despite my anxiety.
Oddly enough, unlike what seemed to be normal for most people, anxiousness didn’t make me have to pee. Instead, it made most normal sensations vanish entirely, to the point that even things like sleep and hunger became almost unnecessary the more anxious I grew.
“I’m good,” I said simply. “Oh, but can I ask what her name is?”
Mrs. Rebecca hesitated briefly before sighing. “It’s Miriam, and that’s all I should tell you. I’ll leave it up to her if she wants to share her last name.”
Dang, such a normal sounding name. But then again, I supposed technically Miriam was a really old name too, since it had been around for like a couple of millennia or something. Granted, it was also possible she’d changed her name several times to fit with the current era.
“Thank you,” I replied simply.
She didn’t respond verbally, gently rubbing my arm again and then sounding like she was tapping her phone as she began walking away, I assumed to maybe give her daughter an update. Listening carefully to her as she moved, I heard her walk up a set of concrete stairs, only to open a door that made almost no noise at all, followed by her tapping on a hard floor, maybe marble or something, as she made her way to the right to another room.
Oddly enough, the sound of her steps began to feel significantly quieter as she walked.
In the meantime, I caught a couple of other people talking all the way at the back right of the house, immediately paying closer attention when I heard Gwen’s name.
It was a man’s voice.
“Ms. Gwen, I’m about to leave early, as requested. Did you need anything else before I go?”
“No,” a surprisingly sexy female voice said, sounding a little deeper than average while also very feminine. Kind of reminded me of the voice coming from a chick in a screamo band, who perpetually sounded a little hoarse due to her career choice, yet also sounded enticing as hell. “You may leave,” she continued. “And take the rear exit. Under no circumstances are you to leave through the front gate.”
“I understand, Ms. Gwen,” he replied. “I’ll be here early in the morning to finish trimming the north hedges. You have a nice day.”
“You as well,” she replied simply, sounding aloof, despite what should be kind words.
I could then hear her walking through a doorway, this one creaking just barely, before she made her way toward the front of the building, sounding as if she might be wearing high heels with how her feet clicked on the flooring. Her clothing kind of sounded odd as she walked, almost swooshing like silk, though I couldn’t imagine she was wearing something silky, unless it was something like a silk maid outfit.
Hard to say, but I really began picturing her in a black and white silk maid outfit as she walked, feeling like that fit well enough with what I was hearing.
Having followed her with my ears through the house, I couldn’t help but turn my head in her direction when she opened the front door, listening to her pause briefly when she likely focused on me, before making her way down the stone steps.
“Umm, hello,” I greeted when she was close enough, wanting to start on the right foot, if possible. “Are you Gwen? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Don’t talk to me,” she snapped, sounding irritated now. “In fact, don’t talk to anyone,” she added. “You are only to speak if asked a direct question by me, or my mistress. Understand?”
“Umm, yeah, I get it,” I replied, trying to not get frustrated myself. “No need to be rude about it.”
She abruptly grabbed me roughly by the arm then, yanking me to my feet with surprising force, her thin fingers feeling really warm. I only then realized that she was almost as tall as me — being able to perceive where her head was due to the spot where her voice was coming from — her grip somehow delicate yet shockingly powerful on my bicep.
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