Chapter 184: Machala
Nine months ago...
In the car ride to Winters' Publishing, Luke had explained his kinks in explicit detail. I was uncomfortable because his driver heard every word. Luke was dropping me at my office. Our arrangement would begin on Friday which was half a week away. I didn't know if I'd last. I crossed my legs. His eyes took on a gleam that showed he liked making me squirm. Without a qualm, he asked about my limits.
No illegal acts or marks on my arms, lower legs, or face. I wasn't into feces or gold shower play. Animals were encompassed under the illegal acts, but I made it clear. He didn't bat an eye, just listened intently. Maybe too intently. I was well aware his dick was rock hard. I fought the need to unzip his pants and suck it to relieve some of his discomfort. A delectable small tear in his jeans to the side of his cock had me licking my lips. I shook my head. Keeping my mind clear when I was around him wouldn't be easy.
Other than my hard limits, Luke required complete commitment from his weekend fuck and pain slut. Those were his words. I was a wet mess when I exited the car and walked into my office. I spent the remainder of my week working on a few author contracts and searching the Internet for stories on Luke Isaak, better known as Lefty, the Blood Rights' drummer. The nickname didn't fit the tanned, muscular, drop dead sexy man with shoulder length hair that I'd met at the restaurant. Of the five band members, he and Rocky were the least visible in the media. There were stories of Krispin Righteous, the lead singer, dating back to his battle with drugs and alcohol. Recently, Matt Mathews and Stephon Cross received more attention because of a rumor about them being in a triad relationship. They were delicious, and if the rumors were true, their girl or boy was very lucky. Rocky, a keyboard player, was shy with a delightful blush anytime reporters asked questions or took his picture which there seemed to be a lot of.
Lefty, or Luke as I preferred, was the mysterious one of the group. He'd told me his bandmates were in the lifestyle, and, not surprisingly, a story here and there on the Internet highlighted a little of their kinky lives. Luke was different, though, and I found very little about him. Even pictures were rare unless he was on stage with the band. My excitement for the coming weekend increased each day until I was a mass of unsatisfied female hormones.
Friday afternoon, Luke's driver delivered keys to my office along with the alarm code for his home. He handed the small package to Danny and, to my relief, left quickly. I was still uncomfortable with the driver overhearing the conversation from a few days before. I kept the D/s side of my life very quiet. Luke assured me his driver was trustworthy, and I knew through my amateur investigations that Luke liked his privacy as much as I did.
At four o'clock, I left my office and drove to Luke's home. It was a huge, single story Spanish-style home in the California foothills. Not what I expected for a hard rock drummer. I let myself in, punched in the alarm code, and walked around the inside opening doors and learning the layout. From furniture to artwork, the man had taste, and I liked the minimalist, clean white style. The artwork varied from abstract expressionism in subdued colors to traditional western cowboy. Whoever his interior designer was, they made it work.
The room he assigned me was another surprise. It had a four-poster bed, lovely dark wood furniture, and best of all a private bathroom fit for a princess. A soft, fluffy white robe hung on the back of the door. Luke instructed me to bring clothes for work on Monday only. I placed my personal items in the top bathroom drawer, undergarments in the top drawer of the large dresser, and hung my skirt, blouse, and suit jacket in the empty closet. The sight of the three items hanging in the otherwise empty space had me smiling. As a designer-clothing slut, it was strange to see the near-empty space.
I slowly removed my current business clothes and placed them in my bag. Following Luke's precise instructions, I walked around his home nude while snooping some more and thinking of his note.
Machala,
My address and alarm code are below.
My bedroom is on the left and the bedroom across the hall from mine is yours.
Except for Monday mornings, you will be naked.
Make yourself something to eat.
Explore and become familiar with the layout of the house.
You may rest if needed.
Be waiting at the front door on your knees.
I will arrive around midnight.
Luke
I was relieved that I would have my own room. This meant fewer complications if my new Dom didn't hurt me enough to waylay my nightmares. My previous D/s relationships had been more about scheduled play scenes that I used after weeks of sleepless nights and I could no longer take it. I'd attended an occasional weekend play party and one two-week stint in Hawaii that would have been better off at two days. This was my first, part-time, ongoing D/s interaction. It would give me an idea if steady D/s would help my sleep deprivation. We'd agreed to four months. Luke told me it would take a full month to train me to his taste. I had a feeling that the pain to my ass would teach me exactly what Luke required far sooner than a month. The thought had my pussy tingling.
I hoped I could nap, so set my phone alarm for eleven thirty, but I was too nervous to sleep. Luke made it clear in our first car ride that I was not to pleasure myself at any time during the four months we were together unless he gave me permission. I didn't admit that it was impossible for me to orgasm without extreme pain as a precursor. That didn't mean I didn't touch, and that's what I wanted to do right now. Hell. I refused to give in to my throbbing clit, but it wasn't easy.
I was Luke's for weekends only, though he wanted me staying Sunday nights and leaving for work on Mondays from his home. This seemed strange, but he'd told me Monday mornings we would not adhere to the D/s dynamic. He requested I eat breakfast with him before leaving to begin my week.
Everything about Luke was odd. If it wasn't for Damian's referral and assurance, I wouldn't have made it through the first car ride and his list of demands. He said my needs would be met, but he required verbal interaction to stimulate him throughout the weekend. He didn't want a slave, he wanted D/s companionship with no lasting ties at the end of four months. I wondered if the man had mommy issues and the thought made me smile. There wasn't a mommy in the country who wouldn't give their right tit for a weekend with Luke Isaak.
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