Carrie's Story: An Erotic S/M Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

thirty inches long, just a flexible reed that was a little thicker
on the end he reached for when I came back. He told me to
kneel up again and to put my hand out.
    "This is the most painful thing I'll use," he said, "and only
to punish you. So I want you to know what it feels like. It's
what they used in all those famous brutal faggy English boys'
schools."
    It really did whistle through the air and it really did hurt
like hell, raising an angry livid welt immediately. I gasped
again, but this time I held back the tears. I can't keep from
crying if he hits me again, I thought. But I didn't think he
would. After all, the point of this blow was to communicate,
not to punish. It was to introduce me to the currency we'd be
dealing in. At least that's what he'd said, and I realized that I
believed him. I guessed that was a good sign. Still, I realized
that, while precise, his message was also intentionally and
profoundly ambiguous, because I knew that he wouldn't tell
me how many of such blows I'd be receiving.

    "Get dressed," he told me now, "and sit down over there.
Do you want some coffee?"
    I nodded.
    He spoke into an intercom. "Mrs. Branden, could we
have a pot of coffee, please? Thanks."
    Mr,. Brazziezz? I hurried to get dressed and sat down in a
straight chair nearby. He picked up the remote and retracted
the chain back into the ceiling. Thank God. I hadn't thought
I could concentrate on talking to him with it swinging ever so
slightly, a few feet from where I was sitting.
    "Okay." He smiled. "Now, let's make a deal. But first,
ask me anything, everything. Address me any way you want.
If you sign on, you won't get this chance very often."
    A pleasant-looking woman in her late forties came into
the room. She wore a tweedy sweater and skirt and some
antsy jewelry, and she carried coffee and cookies on a tray.
She looked like a hip legal secretary, I thought. "Hi, Carrie."
She smiled.
    "Hi," I managed, and she smiled again and left.
    Jonathan poured coffee. "Mrs. Branden's my housekeeper. And yes, she knows exactly what's going on. It's okay,
though."
    I turned to him in fury. "What do you mean it's okay?
I thought we were alone," I sputtered.
    He offered me a cup of black coffee. I nodded and took
it. And he laughed a little. "That, you've got to get used to.
You will, though. This is pornotopia-it's a place, Carrie, a
place where people live like this all the time. This afternoon
and all the times we'll spend together in the future are normal
here. Normal depends on strict and absolute rules that everybody agrees on ahead of time, and it also means that it's not a big hush-hush thing. There are witnesses. That's part of the
point and the pleasure. Total environment, or at least a convincing facsimile. Virtual reality."

    I tried to think fast, but my mind felt dull and sluggish.
So I swallowed some coffee and took a deep breath.
    "Wait a minute," I said. "Let me get this straight. Mrs.
Branden works for you. She knows what you do in here. She
thinks it's okay."
    "Do you think it's okay?" he asked.
    I had to consider that one. "I don't know," I stammered.
"I do know that it scares me a whole lot. I mean, well, I mean...
I mean, I don't really know whether something that can make
me feel so...so...make me feel like I feel right now... could
really be okay. The only thing I know for sure is that I want
it. Maybe I'll just have to wait to find out whether I think it's
okay." I was astonished to hear myself say that I wanted it,
but I knew it was true.
    He nodded. "That's fair," he said, "and brave. And smart,
too. But then, that's partly why I want you, because you're
smart."
    He seemed to specialize in this sort of friendly, matterof-fact remark, lobbing them into the conversation like
grenades aimed at demolishing every bit of cool I had left.
I didn't know what to say next. What were we talking about,
anyway. Oh, yeah...
    "So, Mrs. Branden," I said. "Is she into it? Does she