A Study in Fragrance Pt. 14

...and walked into the room. The Study was a mess from the night before: candles half-burned, their wax pooled on the metal plates, strewn across the floor and on the table, someone's robe draped on the chair, a condom!! "Okay," she sighed as he joined her. "I'm going to get all of this cleaned up, then I'll come down to help bring up tools and shit...if you still need it when I'm done here."

30 minutes later she'd re-filed what was left of the candles, scraping the wax from the plates and closing the cabinet. The fragrance, intense from the moment she'd entered the room, affected her differently from before. Her body was calm, accepting her new status, even as her mind began to freak out. What he'd just said to her, last night the way he'd owned her, the new gauntlet he'd thrown, last night's echoes of him entering her, fucking her, bending her, becoming the supplicant the fragrance expected her to be. Is that what Caroline was talking about? 'Be careful...' She shook her head again trying to clear her thoughts.

He had already started putting the finishing trim on the outside of the bookcase. "You want to put a final coat of paint in your closet? All the stuff is at the base of the stair. Just a thin coat is all you need. I've already put on the primer and base coat. We'll tap in the trim later."

She nodded, swallowing her inner struggle, squeezing past him.

Everything prepped in her closet, her thighs still sticky from before, the smell from her pussy mixing with the fragrance, bringing her back to the floor, last night, an hour ago! The image of being tied, her hands bound to her ankles, her legs spread wide, bent over. She moaned at how awful it looked, how opposite her self-image as Wonder Woman. She had promised to be his servant cunt! Her hands brushed across her lips, still stinging and now sore when she pushed on them. Trainee or not, she wouldn't be able to take him today, but just the image of him fucking her stiffened her clit. "FUCK!" she shouted, looking through the doorway to see him jerk with alarm. She laughed. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm just so fucking frustrated! My clit is so hard right now but I'm too sore to do anything about it. I want to fuck you...I want you to fuck me again, right now, but I can't!"

He looked over at her nodded.

She shivered at the predatory look. He's turned on too...her eyes glanced down to his waist, but he was too far away to see that detail. His eyes and his face, though; she could see them clearly enough. He wasn't going to let her off the hook. She'd have to say the word five times. It was the first time she'd even considered pulling the rip cord since the whole thing started. But now she was getting scared. Oddly, the tendril didn't react, even as the fragrance enveloped her in its warm fog. Of course not! I'm not embarrassed by being his servant. I'm scared! She pursed her lips and focused on the painting.

Let her wonder what I have in mind. Let her imagination take her. He had his own ideas where to take her, but it was so much easier when she thought they were hers.

She pulled a roller through the pan and applied it the way he'd shown her, listening to the felt pull away from the surface with soft smacking sounds. Like when he fucked me. She couldn't escape the feelings, the images. With each pull of the roller she saw herself more degraded, her submission more complete.

An hour later she was done, covered in a fine spray of white polka dots, her skin on fire from her buns to her breasts. Her fantasies had grown so elaborate she'd lost track of the details, but the essence was clear: the fragrance, Abby, expected her to comply. Complicit. She pressed her lips together. She'd named it: Complicit. Even as she struggled to accept it, the tendril rose up, reminding her of the fragrance, Complicit, she rolled it around in her mind, Complicit, had its agent inside her. She sighed, her pussy squishing as she gathered all of the tools and paint. "We need this anymore?" She shouted to him.

"Nope. Check that off the list."

She nodded and carried it all downstairs for a final clean up, picking the largest splatters from her skin in between rinsing.

"Okay," he said from right behind her.

"Fuck!" Her heart jumped, as much from surprise as at the thought of what he might do next. "You startled me! Wassup?"

"I'm going to grab some lunch. You want anything?"

Her first reaction, disappointment, surprised her. But annoyance quickly followed, arousal flooding it all. She thought about her feelings for a second. What did I expect? "Cos?" She turned to face him, wiping her hands on his t-shirt. "I definitely want something." She pushed him out of the utility closet into the kitchen.

"Mmm hmmm." He gently took her hands and wrapped them around his ribs. "And tell me what my not-a-virgin-servant cunt wants?"

She felt herself turn crimson, her own words stinging. "Fuckkkkk, Cos..." she exhaled burying her face into his chest. "I don't know what's worse: how horrible that sounds or how much it turns me on to hear it!" She grabbed him tight, jerking slightly as his hands brushed across her cheeks. "I have to give into you, but I hate that I have to!" Her voice was quiet, confused, hoping he would offer her a way out.

"Abby?"

She nodded, tears leaking onto his shirt. "If I don't do what you tell me, it'll get really bad. But I'm getting scared."

His fingers slid between her cheeks, rubbing along her asshole, forcing a whimper from her. "This is important, Em. Don't be scared. You trust me, right? Remember we're supposed to be having fun." He pushed a fingertip against the wrinkled skin, feeling her clench and unclench. "Type 2, not type 3." He pushed in, dragging the muscle with his fingertip.

"Yeah," she panted, holding on to his body, feeling him violating her again, trying to relax to let him in. "It is. Type 2. Owp!" She felt him pop in, her ring snapping back around his first knuckle.

"What are the priests saying you have to do?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling his finger worming inside her. "Uhhh... fuckfuckfuck...the priests...they...I...you...you've tied my wrists...to my ankles...fuckkkk!" He had pushed further into her, the friction dragging her skin with his knuckle until it snapped back leaving his finger deeper in her. "And you're fucking my throat...ohgodohgodohgod." She reached her hands back to spread her cheeks, to make it easier for him to pierce her.

"Yeah. That's what I thought I heard them saying. Immobilized so every hole can be penetrated." He said it quietly, pushing his finger into her, pushing her to acquiesce.

"Noooo," she panted, the image of her bound wrists and ankles stretching her body forward, exposed and helpless, filling the space where the tendril used to be. "I...don't know...yeah...yeah...I trust you, Cos. But I...it's just..." She let go of her cheeks and hugged him again, letting him play with her.

"Hmmm..." he wriggled his finger for a moment longer before pulling it out. "You're going to be fine, Em. I'll make sure they don't ask more of you than you can do." I'm your trainer. You can trust me. "But right now, I need to get some lunch and then there's more to do upstairs." He tilted her face up to look at him, bending to kiss her. "I think I know what they expect..." He nodded upstairs, confident. "Next..." nodding to her wrists and ankles.

She watched him washing his hands, her ring throbbing, her emotions swirling. Fear, but not embarrassment. Confusion, but not shame. Except when she saw herself tied up. The way she looked: debased and degraded, that's when the tendril woke up. She turned to the kitchen; she turned her attention to lunch.

She put together a salad, not really hungry, preoccupied and worried, knowing all the while she couldn't feed her anxiety. Look it up! She knew she'd been imagining the worst from some of the videos she'd seen before, but she'd never looked into being trained! The search results told her what she needed to know. More of the same: trust, safe words, pleasing him. Pleasing him!!??? The whole situation had flipped upside down. This isn't what she'd agreed to, was it? She shook her head, cursing silently. You stupid idiot! But she knew she could stop it; hadn't he just told her he wanted it to be fun for her? She had to stop thinking about it, the black spot of anxiety, the tendril thickening.

She focused on her wall and her friends' postings; anything to distract her. Sarah and Allison had both posted about their trip to a lake the day before, some of the snaps raising questions. Hmmm...are they gay? Before last week she hadn't given it a thought, but now that her own relationships were ambiguous, she was curious. Maybe we'll find out today.

She'd barely finished washing the dishes when Cos returned, tossing the fast food trash into the can, his face lighting up when he saw her. "Ready?" Serving me isn't a bad thing, pussy. You'll grow to love it. Let her know how much she means to you. She did mean something to him. He'd never met anyone like her.

She just shook her head, trying to understand his mood swings. "Hinges next?"

He nodded, staring at her. "Yeah. It's always fussy, but a lot easier with two people. And that one in your closet...it seems almost perfect, yeah?"

She nodded, remembering how crazy it was that the thing just closed itself.

He moved up the stairs, that animal grace catching her eye like it did the first day she'd seen him.

"Okay," he said, standing in The Study facing the bookshelf. It was swung into the room, 90 degrees to the opening. "Once we get it perfectly aligned, I can finish tacking the molding pieces onto the opening and put in the strike plate. Yeah?" He looked over at her to make sure she understood.

Em nodded. "What do you need me for?" She regretted asking it the moment the words left her lips, but he didn't take the bait.

"Right. So, you need to stand outside and check that the gaps all the way around are pretty much equal. Let me show you what I'm seeing." He let her go first through the doorway, pulling the case shut behind him. "You'll probably want to stand back there."

She backed up near the guest bedroom door, waiting for him.

"Take a look. You see the reveal...the dark gap between the case and the frame?"

She looked. The gap along the top narrowed from the latch side toward hinge. "It looks uneven."

He nodded. "Yeah. Now, we can hide some of the difference with the molding, but we want to make sure the door swings level. These hinges let me adjust it this way," he tipped his flat hand up and down, "this way," back and forth, "and this way," rotating around his wrist. "When it's level, strike to hinge, it'll swing correctly. The other two make sure it sits flush top to bottom and back to front. So, I'm going to start with the swing. Keep your eye on the gap along the top and the strike side. When it looks even, shout to tell me, yeah?"

She understood, watching him go through the case and close it behind him. Her thoughts were still all over the place, but a secret door! It was so cool! She'd built a secret door! She waited a few heartbeats and when nothing happened, looked back at her phone to see what was new. The air against her skin reminded her that she was stripped. Bare. Vulnerable. Their cum from last night still lingered. She clenched, feeling the burn on her lips and the soreness in her anus, trying not to dwell on what she was becoming. Looking up every now and then she saw that the gap had changed, but it was still narrower at the strike side. Watching more intently now, she couldn't see it actually change, but she could tell he was doing something, the door vibrated every once in a while. "Okay! It looks good along the top! Hold on! And along the strike. It looks perfect!"

He swung it open and joined her. "Yep. Now, that's not going to stay quite so nicely once I adjust in the other directions. This will be a little harder to figure out. Let me show you what I'm looking for."

He motioned for her to enter the room and he shut the case behind them. "Take a look along this edge." He traced his finger along the seam at the strike side. "See how it sits into the room more at the top than at the bottom?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to keep adjusting the hinges for that, and when it looks even, let me know." He turned to face the hinges, slotting a screwdriver into the top one and turning.

Em stared at the top of the case, watching. Nothing seemed to be happening. He moved to the next hinge and the edge jumped back a little. And again on the bottom one. Comparing the top to bottom it looked like he had gone too far. "I think you went too far, Cos."

He nodded. "Perfect." He backed them out, and she watched as the line moved a little back, the bottom now easing away. "Looks perfect. Stop!"

He stood up and looked with her. "Yep. Great. Let's make sure the top line didn't get screwed up." And he opened the case to let her back out, the air brushing against her bare skin.

He repeated the process a few more times, each time the door hung truer until it looked like he couldn't get one closer without screwing up another.

"I think that's about as close as we're going to get."

It was much better than when they'd started, but it was a subtle difference. Em wasn't sure it had been worth all the effort, especially if the trim was going to cover the gaps anyway. It was another of those things where everything took time. But now she could see the final result and every time she looked at the case she giggled a little.

"Yeah, I know. It looks almost the same. But the difference will be in how the door fits flush against the molding, all the way around. It may need to be adjusted every once in a while cuz of heat and cold and humidity, but we'll leave enough gap so that the door will shut clean even if it's a little off."

He showed her what each screw did and suggested if she ever wanted to adjust them to give him a call or at least work with a friend. "It's really hard to get this right all by yourself." They were standing close together, the smell of their sex emerging when her legs were spread in a specific way. She wanted to strip him and push him down, feel him inside her again, and then she'd feel the sting on her lips and knew it wouldn't work. Tomorrow. You'll fuck him again tomorrow. The fragrance hit the back of her nose and she pressed her legs together again, watching the tendril stir.

He saw the glint in her eye and raised his head, questioning. "What? Now?"

"No! God no! I...the smell. This room. It makes me feel a little...prickly." She looked away, trying not to fixate on her wrists and ankles. "I'm just too sore."

He nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

She licked her lips and looked down at the bulge between his legs. "I feel like I'm not doing my part, taking your cock into one of my holes, but maybe we should give it a rest for a day..." She wanted to tease him, happy to see annoyance flash across his face.

"Yeah...they're letting me take as much time as I need. There's plenty of time to fill those holes," he said it offhandedly as he pulled out a vial of something and squeezed a drop of liquid on each screw. "Clear nail polish. It should keep them from unscrewing on their own. Let's confirm the other one is still good. I know it was almost perfect yesterday morning, but I didn't tighten it down."

She shivered. Her teasing had echoed back, sending flickers up her spine. Now she had two images competing in her head: bound wrists and ankles and face down, her ass spread open, his cock pushing into her. She squeezed her cheeks together protectively, the memory of his finger an hour ago downstairs, and his thumb the night before sending jolts up her insides. She checked her phone again while he fiddled with the other door.

"Okay! Still working fine!" Cos was lightly touching the door to close it. It glided into position and then without a pause, clicked shut, its face flush with the inside wall.

"Woohoo!" Em was sincerely excited. "Is that it? Any more adjustments?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Nope. And I locked 'em all down."

"So," she looked around. "Anything else? Oh, wait! What time is it?"

"Almost 1:30. There's a bunch of little stuff, other than the molding in your closet." He stared at her.

"I have to get ready for my friends. They're coming over...like, shit, in a half hour. You don't need me, right?" She paused, staring at the bulge in his jeans again. "I mean, I'll do whatever you need, but...?" She waited until he shook his head and ran to the bathroom to take a shower. She couldn't smell this way for the picnic. She left the door open, as usual, but this time knowing it would tease him.

He was in her bedroom when she got out, working on the molding. He barely looked up at her while she picked out what she was going to wear. How weird! A hunk in my closet not paying attention to me, naked. Light slacks, with underwear, a matching bra and a cotton top, she threw them on, looking at her hair. Her hair was not her strength. She'd kept it cut short for the competition, and with the chlorine... but she knew that wasn't the real problem. She just didn't have the time to deal with hair. It didn't seem to matter to Cos. She smiled thinly at the memory from one of the videos: the guy grabbing his trainee's hair to keep her mouth buried on his cock.

"You okay?" He looked over his shoulder.

She must have made a sound. She nodded, putting down the brush, the image fading. "I...I don't know if I can do this..."

He stared at her, nodding. "You'll be fine, Em. I promise. Whatever you're worried about, you're making a bigger deal out of it...Hey! Careful! The paint is still wet!"

She'd rushed over and hugged him, squeezing him, burying her face into his shirt. "You promise? You promise you won't hurt me? You can't hurt me!" The last muffled by the fabric, tears flowing down her face. But as much as it terrified her, she wanted it. She wanted to prove she could do whatever it was he had in store for her. You can do this! What are you so scared of? The only bright side, she realized, was that the tendril didn't react to her fear.

"Hey. Em." His hands pressed into her back. "You're going to be fine. All the supplicants feel this way. Shhh. Quiet. They'll hear you, and that'll only make it worse." He kissed the top of her head, smiling. Mmmmm.

Ohmygodohmygod. He's not letting up. She shook her head and sniffled, unpeeling from him, concerned about the time. "I've got to go..." But she knew that was a stupid thing to say. He wasn't keeping her there.

"Okay. I'll be finishing up." He paused. "You planning to give a tour?" He looked through the opening into The Study.

She sniffled and stood back, looking at him, his expression unreadable. "Probably. Why?"

He looked back her, smiling with that predatory look. "I don't think I'm up to another orgy so soon."

"Fuck you. No!" She slapped his arm, harder than she'd intended. "But in a couple of days..." She turned before he could react and walked down the hall.

"Fuck, Caroline!" She hissed the words so only her friend could hear her. Steph hadn't come yet. They were working in the kitchen on some vegetables and dip. "I told him I'd be his servant cunt!!" She stopped to stare her friend in the face. "I did, right?"

Caroline looked back, nodding, her eyes clear. "Yeah. It was intense, Em." She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering what they'd all done the night before. "Bobby almost attacked me when you screamed that out. It was fucking crazy up there." She reached her hand across to brush Em's arm. "You okay?"