More than ready

You can get pretty much anything you want from the internet with no embarrassment delivered right to your door in two days or less. Two sets of police quality stainless-steel handcuffs that snap into place with a satisfying 'click' and a matching collar with a similar locking mechanism arrive in a plain cardboard box with a printed smile on my porch Friday morning. These heavy steel items combined with a six-foot length of chain from my basement that I could adjust with the help of a few well-placed carabiners are exactly what I need to secure my young prize.

While Alison is away in her morning classes, I practice adjusting the handcuffs and clicking the chain onto and off of the collar. I've decided already how I plan to use Alison when she gets back from school. Over the past two days, Alison has teased me a couple times about how I'd train the rebellious teenaged daughter of my political rival. I had been close lipped about my intentions, and my tenant was getting less and less patient with me. Last night as we ate our burgers her patience ran out.

“At least let me know what you want me to wear, Mr. P.” She pouted. “Do you want me wearing a tiny rag like the girls at the auction house, or in a fancy silk dress I might be wearing at a party.” She smiled at me coyly. “Maybe a skimpy nightgown like those elegant passengers were wearing when they were captured when the pirates **** the Evening Star from hyperspace?” It's a pretty good question. We talked about all three scenarios at various times, but I have to confess ever since she told me about the politician's daughter that's been what I've been thinking about most.

“You, my Dear,” I chuckled wickedly, “have been a pain in my backside for the past three years with your grassroots protests and anti-slavery diatribes on social media. Now that your father's Reformation Party has been crushed, I intend to show you the error of your ways.”

“I'm not afraid of you, Excellency.” Alison followed my lead without a moment of hesitation. “My father's party might be out of power at the moment, but I'm going to continue exposing the hypocrisy and cronyism of your corrupt government.”

“If I were you, Miss Miller.” I make my intentions clear, “I wouldn't attend the Founders Ball tomorrow night. I would keep a low profile and hope that you don't attract any unwanted attention.” Her soft gasp of excitement tells me that she is looking forward to this as much as I am.

“You can't intimidate me, Sir.” The way Alison bites her lower lip nervously tells me that she knows exactly what's going to happen to her. “I bought a fancy new cocktail dress for that ball and I'm going to make sure everyone sees at the dance and knows that I'm not giving up.”

The conversation dies down for a while and Alison disappears upstairs earlier than usual leaving me to watch the Thursday night football game. I'm pretty sure I hear her bed rocking softly against the wall, and smile to myself as I picture her with her fingers between her pale thighs.

In the morning Alison doesn't even bother with small talk, instead she gets right to the point.

“Are you going to take her right away. Mr. P?” She had asks as she finishes her cereal. “While she still has the will to fight you, or are you going to break that defiant teen's spirit before you pop her cherry?” I just smile wickedly and leave her to wonder during her morning classes what her fate might be. Somehow, I doubt that she is learning much today; not if her mind is constantly wondering how I intend to fuck her sweet teenage body.

“OK, Mr. P, my last class gets out at 12:20, after that I'm all yours.” With that promise she disappears out the door leaving me to plan out what I'm going to do to her tonight and all weekend long.