This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults. It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation other than your comments, it is still my work. Please respect this and do not repost it somewhere else without talking to me first about it. If you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to your age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in which you reside, please do not continue. The title of this piece is taken from Mark Twain's "The Gorky Incident." The complete quote is, "laws are sand, customs are rock. Laws can be evaded and punishment escaped, but an openly transgressed custom brings sure punishment." Enjoy, and if you're so inclined, please let me know what you think. Alexis (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com) An Openly Transgressed Custom (MF Mdom bd) The rough leather ropes, doubled, struck her pale skin, over and over, mercilessly. She struggled to remain silent during his administration of the beating. He warned her that if he were forced to gag her, he would redouble his efforts to stripe her tender hide. Her humiliation was increased by the very fact that he remained clothed throughout his punishment of her. She wasn't even worth being used for his physical pleasure. She had disappointed him, and she would have to again earn the privilege of being used by him as a vessel to receive his cock. ~~~~ Earlier in the day he had confronted her. He met her at the door as she came home from work. At first she had assumed that this was a pleasant surprise. After all, how often is he home when she arrives? However, the cold glint in his eyes stopped her joy before it threatened to bubble over. Without speaking, without actually looking at her, he grasped her wrist and pulled her into the living room. She trailed along behind him, rushing to keep up with his long strides, taking two steps to his every one. He unceremoniously, but not roughly, dumped her in the living room chair and stood before her. His voice was steady, controlled, unwavering, and it terrified her. There seemed to be a complete lack of emotion in his tone, an almost mechanical quality. But she knew him better than to be fooled by what one could merely hear. His voice screamed silently to her that he was holding himself together with all the will he could muster. This was his fuming. She begged him silently with her eyes to rant, to rave, to pace, to break something, to scream, to do anything. Anything other than this. But he stopped moving completely, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with the heat emanating from his fury as he stood before her. He began to speak. "My requests, my requirements, are not difficult ones, Katherine. All this time, I've asked only that you remain honest with me. How difficult is that, Katherine? How hard is it really, to be honest? Isn't it harder, Katherine, to keep secrets?" "I, I don't understand," was the only reply she could muster. "That's not really an answer to my question, Katherine. I asked you if it wasn't harder to keep secrets than it is to be open and honest with me. Never mind. I know the answer, Katherine." He took a breath and continued, although he now began to walk slowly around her chair as he spoke. "Imagine something for me, Katherine. Imagine that I'm at work. It's a quiet day, nothing spectacular happening, just your average day at the office. I turn around in my chair to look out the window, across the street to your office. I didn't expect to see you there, after all, you told me that you were having salads at Margo's today with the girls. So, Katherine, imagine my surprise when I saw you sitting at your desk. Eating. Talking. To someone sitting across from you." Her brain frantically scrambled to come up with an answer, an explanation. She wished with all her heart that she could say she had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew. It seemed so innocuous at the time. How quickly things got out of control. Yes, she knew, and now, so did he. "I..." she began, but her voice stumbled. She swallowed and started over. An almost silent "I'm sorry," was all she could muster from her dry mouth. "Katherine, Katherine," he continued. She was slightly encouraged by his response. He voice was not unkind, although he spoke slowly to her as one would speak to a child who had difficulty understanding. "Please don't interrupt me, Katherine. When I'm ready for you to answer, I'll ask you a question." Each time he spoke her name, her full name (oh god, when was the last time he used her full name?) her stomach lurched higher into her throat. She was sure she'd lose control and start crying. But it wasn't time. She knew she'd end the evening begging, but not until he wanted her to be begging. "Now, Katherine, I'm not an unreasonable man. I can understand a change of plans, and I certainly don't require you to phone me with an itinerary each time you make a minor adjustment in your day. However, I did think that your choice of a dining companion was an interesting one. I wasn't exactly surprised to see Holly there, but the other participant in this little luncheon? I've met him, haven't I? Russell, I think. His office is next to yours, and if I recall, he's rather fond of you. We've discussed him, Katherine, and you agreed that it would be best if you didn't spend time with him that wasn't strictly work-related. He's never been exactly subtle in his attraction to you." "Then, imagine my further surprise, Katherine, when he reached out to stroke your hand." There it was again; she tried desperately to will her heart to slow down. It was beating so fast, so loud; she was surprised it wasn't echoing throughout the room. She wanted to protest, to defend herself. It wasn't her fault, her rational brain screamed silently at him, she couldn't be rude when he showed up and joined Holly in her office. But, she knew that it was her fault, and she really should have done something. It hadn't gone past that one touch on her hand. Okay, to be honest he had ever so delicately used the napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth. She hadn't realized until that moment just how presumptuous that was of him, and how that must have appeared. "Katherine, I'm guessing that you found his attention flattering. After all, who doesn't want to be admired and sought after? I'm also guessing that you simply got caught up in the attention and didn't think of the consequences." Yes! Yes! She silently agreed, her eyes searching his face for the forgiveness and understanding she craved. That was it, she just got caught up... But he wasn't finished. "Katherine, you're a beautiful woman. You're smart, charming, witty. Basically you're everything that a man, or a woman, could want in a companion. However, you're something else, aren't you?" He paused briefly, now standing behind her. Her eyes were glued to a spot in her lap, her fingers twisted around the scarf she held. He bent down to speak directly into her ear, his voice reverberating through her body. "You're mine." "Katherine, to whom do you belong?" She forced herself to answer, begging her body not to betray her. "To you, Sir." Now standing in front of her, "Yes, to me, Katherine. Don't ever forget that. You belong to me, and that carries with it some measure of responsibility. You have a responsibility, Katherine, to ensure that all other interested parties know that you're spoken for. To ensure that all other interested parties understand that your overtures of friendship are merely that, friendship. You've always been such a lady. You've always maintained such a proper demeanor. A lady, Katherine, knows that it's proper to immediately, yet kindly respond to such an unwanted overture. Katherine, you didn't make such a response to him this afternoon at lunch, did you?" After a brief pause, "No, Sir." "No, you didn't. What you did do, however, was laugh. That charming, flirty laugh of yours, Katherine, that drew me to you in the first place. The laugh you save for me. You encouraged him, Katherine. He was admiring you, you were enjoying it, and you encouraged him." She hung her head, unable to look in his face. He was right, and she knew it. She was flattered by Russell's attention. For so long now everyone at the office had known of and respected her total devotion to Jonathan, although no one outside of her best friend Holly knew the true level on which their relationship rested. She had always done such a good job of deflecting even the most playful of flirtations and in time the flirtations had mellowed into comfortable working relationships, friendships but nothing more. She hadn't realized until that moment that Russell hadn't truly taken the hint. "Perhaps the fault is mine, Katherine. Perhaps I haven't been attentive enough. Is that it? Have I neglected your pride, or is the devotion of one man not enough for you anymore?" Katherine couldn't answer, couldn't find the words to explain. To tell him it was a momentary lapse, a solitary incident of ego, sounded trite and unconvincing, even in her own thoughts. She instead stayed silent and waited for him to continue, but his next words sent a chill through her center. "I can only assume, from watching this exchange this afternoon, that you desire your freedom." He continued without pausing to gauge her reaction. "I can only assume that being here, that being mine, is no longer enough for you. Therefore, Katherine, I'm opening the door for you. There is a bag packed with your bankbook and enough cash to get you through the weekend. I've pre-paid a weekend reservation for you at the Hilton, and I'll send the rest of your things when you're settled. You have a choice to make Katherine. I love you, but I've never hidden the fact that you're either mine completely or you're not mine at all. If you wish to go, I'll mourn my loss, but I'll harbor no ill will and I'll do everything I can to make your transition a smooth one. Make your decision, Katherine, and let's not waste any more of our time." With this, he turned his back to her and left. She could hear him, moving about in the next room. She suspected he was fixing himself a drink, and she could imagine his hands wrapped around the glass. The soft light from the fire would catch the amber glow from the liquid in his glass. He would stand there, she knew, his hand on the leather desk pad on the mahogany desk, and hold the drink still, letting the aroma of the scotch fill his nostrils before he brought the glass to his lips. She didn't move. Her insides shook and trembled, but she didn't move. Her hands remained clenched in her lap, her knuckles white with the strain, and her nails dug into her palms, but she didn't move. The tears began to flow down her cheeks. Single tears from each eye, leaving a small trail through her perfect makeup. But she waited. She couldn't leave, she didn't want to leave but she couldn't leave even if she had. Her body was ignoring the signals from her brain. She did belong to him. It must have only been minutes, fifteen, perhaps twenty, but it felt like hours. He walked through the room, pausing to glance at her as he passed her chair. She sat just as she had been when he left her. One curt nod of his head at her, before he passed through the door to the kitchen. She could hear him opening the refrigerator, letting it fall closed. He came back into the room and handed her the bottled water. "Here. Drink." Katherine took the bottle gratefully, but her trembling hands betrayed her quiet demeanor. The water splashed slightly over his lips as she drank the cool liquid. She held the bottle between her hands in her lap as she waited for his next words. After a pause, Jonathan took a deep breath and again spoke. "You want to stay?" She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Not good enough, Katherine. Do you wish to remain here with me?" She forced the sound from her clenched throat. "Please, please Sir." She hated the way her voice sounded, tight, trembling, "So, be it. Unpack your bag, undress, and come back to this chair. Your punishment begins in exactly fifteen minutes." ~~~~ So now, here they were. She had sat before him, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room. He could see her pulse pounding at her collarbone and her breasts heaved slightly with each of her breaths. She had managed to unpack and rehang the clothes in her bag, strip and put away her clothes from today, let down and brush her hair, and be seated back in the chair with two minutes to spare. While she was preparing, Jonathan had made a few adjustments of his own. No longer was her chair in the middle of the room. He had pushed it against the wall and put his own chair about three feet away facing hers. Although her chair was a comfortable one with padded arms and a wide back, his was substantially more utilitarian. It had a low back, shallow seat, and sturdy legs. Simple, heavy and functional. There was a small round tea table placed to the side of their chairs and on it Jonathan had placed numerous toys, instruments for use during the administration of her correction. As Katherine sat waiting, her eyes were drawn to the table despite her efforts to remain still. Jonathan was a firm believer in the power of anticipation. He checked his watch and nodded. Then, with both hands he grasped her ankles and lifted her legs, draping each over an arm of her chair. She blushed furiously at this position, her body so lewdly displayed, and he immediately noticed her discomfort. "Hmmm, Katherine. Perhaps you're bothered by this unladylike display?" She didn't trust herself to respond. "Well, then perhaps this will help you remember what it is to be a lady when you're in mixed company." Her hands rested on her thighs, and she could feel her fingernails dig into the tender flesh. Her head was pressed against the back of the chair. Her eyes closed as his voice surrounded her. She could feel him move around her chair, stopping when he was directly behind her. His hands pushed on her elbows until her fingers her hands were between her legs. He bent down to talk to her. "Open you eyes, Katherine. I want to watch you." Her eyes opened, lashes still slightly damp, and her gaze met his. "Touch yourself, Katherine. Cum quickly for me." She hesitated only briefly. This had never been easy for her; she was raised to believe that it was disrespectful to masturbate. If one must resort to such a release, it was done only in the strictest of privacy. She had never been able to let this go enough to enjoy masturbating in front of him. In the past he had always respected the distaste she had for this act and had never asked her to perform for him. But tonight was different. She had proven herself not quite the lady she held out to be, and he was going to remind her just why she felt most secure when she followed rules of etiquette most people felt were outdated. Her fingers began to probe her lips, parting them. At first they were dry, almost painfully dry, and she could feel her nails scrape over the delicate skin. He watched her face, saw the little lines form at the corners of her eyes, and he smiled at her obvious discomfort. He moved and sat in the chair across from her. He reached out his hand and rested it on her inner thigh, inches from her labia. He began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. His touch on her hand relaxed her minutely, and she could feel the muscles in her thigh ease. Her fingertips were suddenly moist as she felt her juices being to flow. He pushed against her thumb with his, rubbing her clit in small, quick circles. Her breath began to come in gasps, and her teeth clenched. He leaned in closer to her and whispered, "now, Katherine, cum now, quietly." Her body stiffened as he quickly thrust two fingers into her wetness. The muscles tightened around his fingers and her head dropped back heavily against the chair. She shuddered around his hand and let a small yelp escape her throat. He paused for a few moments to let her catch her breath. As her eyes fluttered open, he reached for her hand, bringing her to her feet. Without a word, he pulled her forward so that the low back of his chair was resting against her hips. Her back bent forward over the chair, and she grasped the chair legs for support. Her hair fell over her face as she rested her forehead on the velvet cushion. She forced herself to breath deeply, to focus her thoughts on the rest of the evening ahead. She was sufficiently familiar with the bindings he preferred, his favorite restraints had quickly become her favorites as well, but until this time they had almost always been used almost as reminders rather than restrictions. The bindings had always allowed her to let go of much of her puritanical upbringing and enjoy what her mind attempted to rebel against. In a way, the bindings were almost more for her benefit than for his, and she had always assumed (however misguided that assumption had been, she now realized) that had she expressed a preference he would have abandoned the restrains altogether. He had beat her before, although always in a semi-playful manner, never as a punishment. Although, forcing herself to be honest, she had never acted in such a way as to deserve anything more than a minor correction. This had always been held out as a possibility, and absolute obedience had always been the standard. Katherine just never dreamed she would push things to this point. She never dreamed that she would do anything to anger him. He knelt by the legs of the chair and caressed her fingers. She held the legs in such a tight grip he could see the veins throb beneath her skin as he traced their paths across the back of her hands. With a few deft motions, he secured her wrists and forearms to the legs of the sturdy chair. He reached under her shoulder and suddenly grasped her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As she gasped he pulled her nipple away from her breast, twisting as he tugged, and he smiled as he felt the increased hardening of the nub. Without releasing her swollen nipple, he moved around the chair behind her, his other hand coming to rest on her hip, stroking her thigh and buttocks as one would a prize show horse. Almost instinctively she shuffled her feet out further, spreading herself for his fingers as he traced the line between her tight cheeks. He tugged on her lower lips, which were still engorged from her quick self-induced orgasm. Patting her sex gently elicited a small moan, and he quickly withdrew his hand, wiping the moisture on her inner thigh. He leaned over her to whisper firmly in her ear. "Not yet, Katherine. There will be plenty of time for that later. First, we have some corrective measures to take." Without further words, Jonathan wrapped the bindings around her thighs and the legs back legs of the chair, and informed her that he was ready to proceed. ~~~~~~~~ The rough leather ropes, doubled, struck her pale skin, over and over, mercilessly. She struggled to remain silent during his administration of the beating. He warned her that if he were forced to gag her, he would redouble his efforts to stripe her tender hide. Her humiliation was increased by the very fact that he remained clothed throughout his punishment of her. She wasn't even worth being used for his physical pleasure. She had disappointed him, and she would have to again earn the privilege of being used by him as a vessel to receive his cock. When he deemed that her backside was sufficiently striped and that she would have difficulty sitting for quite some time, he untied her arms and ankles from the chair (at this point, she wasn't even worth breaking out the real bindings). He ordered her to kneel before him, up on her parted knees, sitting straight. Standing behind her, and in one quick motion, he forced a medium sized plug into her tender ass. Although he had applied a thin coat of lubricant to its tip and widest part, she had to suppress a scream as he twisted it into her, forcing it past the tight ring of muscle. He pushed relentlessly until it was completely inside of her and her smallest hole tightened around the tapered end. He pushed on her shoulder until she sat, legs tucked under her sore cheeks, resting on her ankles with her arms held behind her back. Quickly she obeyed, although her ass screamed at her for causing further torture to the broken skin. She sat rod-straight, trembling as he refastened her collar around her throat--a small concession to her obedience during her punishment. At least he was again claiming her as his possession. With vice-like fingers, he pulled her small nipple away from her body, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until it had hardened even further. It was already slightly raw from scraping against the seat of the chair during her beating, and His ministrations caused it to feel as though it had been rubbed with sandpaper. When he deemed it to be sufficiently elongated and hardened, he slowly snapped on a plastic clothespin, the slightly serrated teeth digging viciously into her delicate breast. Smirking at her obvious pain, he quickly applied a second clamp to her other nipple and backed away, admiring his handiwork as he watched her squirm from the various reminders he had placed upon her body. Bending down, he ran a finger between her parted thighs and laughed when he felt the wetness beginning to seep from her opening. Shaking his head at her wantonness, he turned his back to her, leaving her to think about his ownership of her and what it means. She didn't realize it, but he was bringing her to a heightened sense of her own submission, readying her for his next command. Although she had not yet earned her place back in his home, for his personal attentions, she had shown that she could be receptive to the attentions of others. He was proud of his possessions, and he enjoyed showing her off. Tonight, she was to be loaned out to his friends, several of them in fact, and she would be punished afterwards for her enjoyment of them. It was an unwinnable situation from her standing; he trained her to be obedient, and he would then punish her for that very obedience. It would serve only to make her more his.