Teacher’s Pet Ch. 02
“And here it is, the sequel to Teacher’s Pet Chapter 1, the further adventures of Ron and Cindy. Thanks to CB for helping to inspire this story and remember to vote and send me feedback.”
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The week after Thanksgiving was a busy one for most college students and faculty. For Cindy Williams, it was insane. Not only did she have two classes of Introductory Psychology to teach and research to conduct for her Ph.D. but she also had to work with the students she tutored, preparing them for their final exams. One student, in particular took up a quite a bit of her spare time.
Ever since she’d found a way to motivate him, Ron Matthews seemed more than willing to do the necessary work for the class but he was, by his own admission, in over his head and he needed extra help. He also loved the fact that Cindy was never afraid to confront him when she felt he wasn’t working hard enough and those confrontations sometimes ended up with him over her lap getting his bare butt spanked until it was crimson. If one ever pressed him for the truth, Ron might admit that occasionally he didn’t really mind the ‘punishment’ and that he often provoked it. And if one ever pressed Cindy, she might actually admit that she enjoyed the feel of him squirming on her lap as she paddled him. In fact, it had almost become a private game between them.
One thing Ron wouldn’t admit to anyone other than himself, though, was that ever since Cindy had shown up on his doorstep to celebrate his good grade on the midterm exam and gave him a playful paddling as well, he had yearned to turn the tables on her. It was a secret that he kept far back in darkest corner of his imagination and only let come out to play when he needed a release and pleasured himself. He admitted that part of his reticence to even broach the subject stemmed from the fact that she was, in many ways, an authority figure in his life. The thought of spanking his spanker somehow seemed wrong. He also knew that his own experience on the giving end was somewhat limited and wasn’t sure if he was really any good.
During college he’d had a few girlfriends that he’d coaxed into it, mostly by starting with an ‘innocent’ birthday spanking, and while some were more receptive than others, he couldn’t say that any of them experienced the same sense of eroticism that he associated with the act. Of course, he really didn’t know if Cindy would find it as stimulating as he did either but something told him she might just like it. She had admitted to him that she’d gotten her share of spankings as a child. He assumed her blush had little to do with the fact that she was admitting to her bad behaviors and more with the fact that she had liked the punishment. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite figure out a way to possibly suggest the idea of switching roles on her. She was way too perceptive and he knew she’d see through any kind of subterfuge he might try. No, it was going to have to be the direct approach but he’d still have to be cagey about it.
Cindy met up with Ron the Sunday after Thanksgiving to begin preparing him for the final exam. Though it was clear he had spent some time stuudying for the exam over the holiday, the proportion of wrong answers to correct ones still had her concerned. She began mentally running through her schedule for the upcoming week to see if she could work in some extra time with him.
“Hey, what’s up?” Ron asked, seeing her brow furrow and noticing the dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, I was just trying to think if we could squeeze in any extra time together before your final next week.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Ron, I’m afraid that based on what I’ve seen here tonight, you’re not going to do any better than a C on this exam.”
“So? It’s not like I’m at risk of failing the class any more, thanks to you.” He patted her knee in gratitude.
“Is that all you want? Just to pass?”
Her exhaustion made her voice almost shrill. Ron took both her hands in his, squeezing them gently.
“Look, I appreciate your concern but we both know that I only signed up for this class cuz I thought it was gonna be an easy A. Admittedly, I was wrong but so long as I pass, I stay on the basketball team and my scholarship is safe which is my main concern.”
She opened her mouth to lecture him but he put a finger over her lips.
“My other concern is that you’re running yourself ragged. You could pack for a two week cruise in those bags under your eyes.”
“Oh thank you very little,” she retorted.
“Hey, why don’t you go home and get some rest. Don’t worry about me this week. I promise I’ll keep on working on this stuff and I’ll be fine by the time the exam rolls around.”
Intense skepticism rolled over her face. She knew he was capable of working independently but wasn’t sure just how effective it would be if she weren’t around to quiz him and make certain that he was on the right track.
“Really!” he insisted. “Look, I’ll even make you a bet.”
“A bet?”
“Yeah, I bet you that I can walk away with an A on this test and do it without any further help from you.”
She chuckled in spite of herself. “You know, I really admire your self-confidence but that’s pushing it.”
“Why? Don’t you think I can do it? After all I got a B+ on the midterm and I’m light years ahead of where I was back then.”
“And I suppose you’ll want the same kind of motivation tonight that you got before the midterm?” she asked remember how she’d lost her temper and laid into his bare ass with his own belt.
He blushed a little and grinned rather sheepishly. “Well, I wouldn’t object.”
“I thought not.”
“But really it isn’t necessary. Just knowing we’ve got a bet going is motivation enough.”
“Honestly, Ron, I wouldn’t even know what to bet.”
“Well, if you’re so confident that I’ll lose, then choose something you want if you win.”
She thought about it for a few moments, weighing the options. While she honestly didn’t think she could lose, she didn’t want to do anything that would undermine his confidence in his own abilities either.
“Okay, but what if, on some weird chance, I actually lose?”
“I’ll choose my own prize.”
“And do we reveal our choices now?”
“Well, it would help me if I knew what I was working to avoid.”
“Okay, hotshot, when I win, you will take me out to dinner at the New Orleans House for the seafood buffet.”
“That’s it?” he asked, incredulously. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Isn’t that enough? After all, the New Orleans House isn’t exactly fast food, so you would have to dress appropriately and not wear your baseball cap.”
“Okay, okay.”
“And what about you? On the very slim chance that you win, what do you want?”
Ron looked up and appeared to think for a moment.
“I’m not sure. Can I get back to you on that?”
Cindy took this as a sign that he really didn’t believe he could win so he didn’t have anything to claim as a prize.
“Okay, but here’s the deal. We will both submit our wagers to Professor Donigal before the exam. Then after she finishes grading them, she’ll tell us who won.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to that?”
“Yeah, I think I can talk her into it.”
“Fine, then I’ll have my prize written down and ready to go before class tomorrow.”
Ron held out his hand and they shook on the bet and the he stood up still holding her hand. With a gentle pull he helped her off the couch as well. He took a moment to help her on with her coat and watched as she put her papers back into her briefcase.
“So, now, go home. Take a nice hot bath. Give yourself a manicure or something and relax for the evening knowing you’ve got one less thing to worry about.”
“Not to mention a nice seafood dinner to look forward to,” she added with an impertinent grin.
He longed to reach out and give her a playful swat on the butt for her remark but he didn’t, knowing that the thickness of her wool overcoat would certainly dull any sensation and might even make him miss his mark.
“Good night, Cindy,” he said casually as he let her out.
“See you tomorrow.”
Before class the next day, Cindy had a private discussion with Professor Donigal. While she didn’t mention that she’d no longer be helping Ron with his studies, she did say that they had made a friendly wager on the outcome of the exam and asked if she’d be the neutral third party to hold the results. As she suspected, the professor was willing to help. When Ron came in he spoke to Cindy for a moment and they each gave Emily a sealed envelope, containing the terms of the bet. They shook hands again and as Ron turned to take a seat, he quickly scanned his classmates to see whom he could turn to for help in Cindy’s absence. It didn’t take him long to make a couple of choices and he vowed that even if the grades in his other classes suffered a bit, there was no way he was going to lose this bet. The one thing he had going in his favor was that this would be his first final exam. Once it was finished he could throw himself into his other classes.
The day of the test arrived and Ron felt moderately confident. He’d spent a lot of time studying with two girls who were majoring in Psychology and seemed to be up on everything that had gone on in class. Darla was so awestruck that he’d even look at her that she eagerly agreed to help. Michelle, however, saw it as an opportunity for some quid pro quo and said that she’d do it so long as he helped her with her Intro Chemistry exam. Knowing he could do that work in his sleep, he readily agreed.
As he selected a desk for the exam, he looked around to see if Cindy had come by. He didn’t know what her schedule was but thought she might drop by to check on him. Moment later he was flanked by Darla and Michelle and they all gave each other a good-luck squeeze of the hand.
Three hours later, Ron’s confidence was flagging. While he knew he’d done a good job, he didn’t feel like he could count on that A. He sighed for a moment as he took one last look at his answers and decided that even if he didn’t win the bet, the chance to take Cindy out to dinner wasn’t really like losing and maybe he could find some other way to get her over his lap. When he left the classroom and stepped out into the hallway, he found Darla and Michelle waiting on him.
“So, how’d ya do?” Michelle asked.
“Umm, okay. I’m sure I passed.”
“Well, of course you passed,” Darla insisted, “You had us helping you.”
He had to chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right. I suppose there shouldn’t be any doubt about that.”
“So, we’re going over to Lee’s Deli for an early lunch. You wanna join us?” Michelle invited.
“I’d love to girls, but I’ve got a 2:00 exam this afternoon that I still need to review for. But maybe we can all go out for beers some night?”
“Sure. Let’s do that.”
Ron trudged back to his apartment and threw together a sandwich and some chips to eat while he reviewed for his economic geography final. The course had been pretty easy so he wasn’t expecting anything too difficult but sometimes the professor liked to throw in some confusing terminology so he wanted to refresh his memory.
Tuesday afternoon, as he was working with Michelle for her Chemistry final, his cell phone rang. He looked at it for a moment to see if he could let it go to voicemail but when he recognized Cindy’s phone number he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Ron, it’s Cindy. Professor Donigal has your test results finished. Can you meet us in her office?”
“I’m kinda tied up at the moment. Can you give me an hour?”
He held his breath waiting while she consulted Emily.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks!”
He flipped the phone shut and looked at Michelle, ready to pick up where they’d left off.
“Hot date?” she asked.
“Hardly. But I’ve got to go to Professor Donigal’s office in an hour. Something about an evaluation for Cindy’s tutoring,” he said, quickly coming up with a lie to cover his tracks.
“Whatever,” she said flippantly as she returned to her notes.
An hour later Ron stood in front of Emily Donigal’s desk, butterflies doing aerobatics in his stomach. The professor’s face gave no clue as to what his test score was but it seemed she was having a bit of fun with the challenge.
“So, as I understand it, Ron, you bet that you could get an A on the final exam, even though you’ve only had one A all semester and Cindy bet that you couldn’t.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, Cindy, I must say that this is a rather different way to motivate a student. I would have recommended that you bet in favor of him but I suppose there is merit to playing devil’s advocate.”
She picked up an envelope from her desk but it was face down so neither of them could see who was going to win the bet. Ron held his breath and he could tell that Cindy was doing the same. She turned to Cindy and handed her the envelope.
“I’m pleased to say that Ron is the winner with a score of 93%.”
It was all he could do not to shout his victory and dance around the office. He settled for sharing a very enthusiastic hug with Cindy and even one for the professor. When everyone one calmed down a bit Emily turned to her protŽgŽ.
“So, Cindy, what did he win?”
Ron could feel the color drain from his face as Cindy began to open the envelope. He hadn’t thought about the fact that the surprise would be unveiled here. Would she read it aloud, not knowing what was in it? His heart pounded even faster and he fixed his eyes on her, silently begging her not to go through with it.
Cindy saw the look of desperation on his face but couldn’t fathom why he’d be so anxious. She assumed that he’d pick the opportunity to play out one of the spanking fantasies he’d shared with her; something that would require more creativity than their usual discipline sessions. Knowing that, she already had a response formed in her brain.
She withdrew the paper and took a quick look at it. What she saw caused her slowly read it once again.
“Cindy?” Emily prompted.
“Something he’s been wanting for a long time,” she said, automatically falling back on her planned response.
She hastily folded the sheet of paper and stuffed it back into the envelope and then crammed that into her coat pocket.
“Well, I hope you enjoy it, Ron.”
While he wanted to say that he was sure he would, the fact was that he still wasn’t sure Cindy would go through with it even though he’d won.
“Thanks, Professor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some other tests to review for.”
He left with one parting smile at Cindy, unsure of what would happen next. He was down the hall and almost out of the building before he heard her call his name. He turned and saw her walking very quickly towards him. He waited until she caught up and then held the door open for her to leave first before stepping out behind her. Once they were out in the frosty December air, she turned and looked up at him.
“Are you serious about this?” she asked, waving the envelope in his direction.
“Serious as a heart attack.”
She cursed under her breath for a moment. “Okay, look, we’ve gotta talk but I don’t want to keep you from your studies.”
“How about my place at 6:00?”
She considered it for a moment and then made a counter proposal. “My apartment at 6:30.”
“Fine but where is your apartment?”
She dug a pen out of her briefcase and scribbled an address on the back of the envelope along with brief directions on how to find it. Before she thrust it at him, she took out the paper that he’d written his prize on. He studied it briefly.
“Yeah, I know where this place is.”
“Then, I’ll see you at 6:30?”
“I’ll be there.”
Still very stunned by what had transpired between them, she turned and walked toward the lot where her car was parked and didn’t even bother to say goodbye. Ron stood and watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the building. He shrugged deeper into his parka and set out towards his apartment, wondering if she’d really go through with this. He assumed that since she hadn’t outright refused, he at least stood a chance. On the other hand, he feared that he could still get shot down that night so he wasn’t about to count on anything.
Cindy managed to keep her wits about her on the way home by concentrating on traffic and the mechanics of driving. Methodically, she hung up her coat and put her hat and boots in the closet as well. She changed into her most comfortable pair of sweats and made a cup of tea to ward off the chill of both the winter day and the fear that gripped the pit of her stomach. Once the necessary tasks were taken care of she settled into her overstuffed easy chair and tucked her legs up under her and looked at Ron’s note once again.
‘When I win the bet, I will be the one to take you firmly over my knee and paint your beautiful behind the crimson colors of a tropical sunset.’
She wanted to believe that he was interested in some sort of body painting ritual but his allusion to the position left no doubt that what he really wanted was to spank her. She closed her eyes and tried to deny it but couldn’t. Even worse was the fact that she wanted it too. After she gave him the erotic spanking after his mid-term and she realized just how into it he was, she had wondered what it would be like to have the tables turned on her. Her last boyfriend had almost turned her off the idea completely with his rough treatment of her hind end and she feared that Ron would think she spanked him in the same way that she wanted to be spanked. She knew he relished being paddled roughly and the harder it got… well, the harder he got. Her tushie twitched at the thought of such a spanking and she unconsciously reached behind her to rub it.
The other thought that weighed heavily on her mind was how this would change their relationship. She’d never really thought much about it beyond the fact that she was tutoring him and therefore in a position of authority. However, she realized that with the closing of the semester, she was no longer bound to him in any capacity and she wondered if she really wanted to be. Admittedly, he was a lot of fun to be with. They had similar interests in politics and history and their tastes in music even seemed to be identical. She admitted that he was more analytical, which seemed right considering his major, whereas she was more of a gut-instinct person. Their sense of humor, however, was virtually identical.
What it boiled down to in her mind was whether or not she had the capacity to open up and be brutally honest about herself with him. That alone would shift the dynamic of their relationship nearly 180 degrees and she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with that. She could deal with a more equitable power exchange but what if he wasn’t.
“Okay, girl, you’re getting way ahead of yourself here. You don’t have any idea as to what he wants and you’re not going to until you talk to him tonight,” she said to herself before taking a sip of her tea.
The warm drink helped calm her nerves a little but couldn’t help overcome her fears of knowing that she’d have to tell him that she not only wanted him to spank her but exactly how she wanted it. Such emotional honesty wasn’t easy for her, especially when she considered that they really were barely friends. Of course, she could actually deny him and tell him he’d simply have to come up with some other way for her to pay off the bet but she wasn’t sure she’d like his alternatives any better. No, better to face the music, admit that she wanted it as much as he did and then work for the best.
When Ron arrived at 6:30, she really wasn’t any less nervous than she had been earlier in the day. In fact, just the sight of him standing in her living room in his faded jeans and rugby shirt made the butterflies in her stomach even more active than they had been while waiting in Professor Donigal’s office. She took a moment to really look at him, not as a student but as a man. All the things she was used to seeing were still there. The height, the dark hair, the casual smile and slightly stooped posture he always assumed whenever he was standing next to her, as if he felt like he was towering over her. Finally, she looked at his eyes, assuming they weren’t called the ‘windows to the soul’ for nothing. In them she saw affection, kindness and a certain amount of hesitancy, as if he weren’t certain about the feasibility of this plan either.
I relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the mistress. Trying to ignore the irritating pull of the clamps, attached to my flesh.
AS A WOMAN/ AS A MAN
It seemed to take forever for Traci to come in, but I knew that it was only a few moments. I spent those precious quiet seconds trying to ignore the medieval pull of the clamps on my body. Striving not to wiggle the clips loose from my skin by moving violently. I chewed on the soft rubber gag in my teeth for comfort. Glancing around the room slowly. Perusing the light brown walls and the decidedly masculine atmosphere. I heard the door open. The sounds making me turn to that direction. It was Traci. She was dressed for sex. A black leather corset with black garter belt. Her breasts connected by a fine black chain through the rings in her nipples. Thigh high black boots with fishnets. Black leather panties over the top. A short quirt swinging from her belt. In her hands she was carrying a fairly large wooden box. She completely ignored me. Walking towards my feet before putting the box down.
She came over to my left and opened a drawer in the table I was on. Putting two ornate glass jars next to me. I was intrigued enough to almost forget the pull of the clamps. She checked my arms to make sure they were tight enough, then my legs. Giving a little twist to the screws on my breast clips to tighten them past the point of pain. She unclipped the whip from her belt and looked down at my curious face.
“Jon believes in a certain amount of latitudes with new slaves. I do not.” There was absolute conviction in her manner. “I expect complete obedience without hesitation. I understand that you have no desire to pleasure a woman, but that has no bearing on what I want from you.” I nodded in understanding. “If you falter, vacillate, or disappoint me in any way. I will punish you in ways that only another woman knows.” My eyes widened in fear. “Do you understand me?” Her speech was precisely menacing. I nodded. My imagination understood her only too well. I would do what she wanted of me, whatever she wanted of me. I would do it immediately and without question. She smiled at my fear, noticing the rapidly developing sheen of sweat on my skin. Putting her hands at the damp flesh at the apex of my thighs, then laughing when I twitched in reaction. Patting me gently, she walked down to the end of the table. There was a sharp click and a wedge of the wood between my legs disappeared. She stepped up between my thighs to open my sex wide with her thumbs. Peering down at my dripping attributes in delight. Her fingers entering me to probe gently. Watching me blush with abject humiliation. The little chains pulling wide and holding fast to the folds. She pressed my clitoris, rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. Teasing me with nimble dexterity. “Nice large features, and generous openings. Very high quality. I have to try this little toy I bought out on you.” She leaned down and I heard her open the box. Pulling out a very long butterfly clip with a small peg on the lower end. She pinched a portion of my clitoris up from the rest of the kernel, and clamped it. The embrace of the little vise achingly strong and miserable. She moved the vise and rocked it. Laughing at the convulsive movements of my vagina. The quivering of my thighs from the strain. The small peg on the end jammed under the heart of my clitoris, pushing it firmly, achingly. She took a belt out of the box and slid it under the small of my back. Buckling it onto me with quick sure pulls. Two smaller belts hanging free. She took my left arm, released it from the table, and then hooked it to the belt with big brass marine snaps. Doing the same thing to the right. She stroked the inside of my damp thighs and looked at my face. Speaking softly to me. Eyes menacing.
“I can beat you to orgasm, do you believe that?” I nodded, at her. Trying to make sure the nod was very obvious. `I do believe it, Mistress.” I thought. “I will do that one of these days to you. Spread you and take a strap to that pulsing little kernel of heat between your legs until the violence of your orgasm rocks the very foundations of your soul.” Her dulcet, flowing words were close to doing it already. Her words and the throbbing pulsation”s of pain from the `toys.’ “I enjoy creating profound sensations and I use many things to do this. Unguents, clamps, penetrators and piercings. I want the orgasm to be secondary to whatever I decide to do to you. I will talk to you about piercing at a future date, but tonight I will introduce you to my style. Nothing I do is overtly painful, so the gag may stay on. Your safe-word is meaningless to me. The most agonizing thing I have ever induced without a whip in my hand was a cramp. Do you understand?” I nodded, chewing on the gag in apprehension.
“If you obey me with complete compliance it will go better for you. I merely want to map your body. Study your responses.” She looked down at my trembling carcass, and smiled. “Then I will begin preparing you for me.” I shivered.
Traci touched the little butterfly on me and tightened it a little bit more. Reaching over me for one of the glass jars, the green one. She opened it carefully so I could smell the fresh scent of wintergreen and menthol. She took a small amount of the cream and smoothed it over my breasts. Close to the clamps. It was hot and cold, all at once. She rubbed it in. Leaning over me to blow on it so I shuddered on the table, moaning. Her hands unhurried. Teasing me and tightening the clamps again another little turn on my pulsing nipples. Although her hands stayed above my waist I felt her touch all the way to my sex.
She went between my legs and took out a phallus of hard black rubber. Wiping her hands on a trick towel, before reaching for the other jar. Her eyes glossy as she dipped the smooth item in the thick gelatinous goo. The smell of spice strong in my nostrils. She opened one of the pairs of clamps on my labia, spreading the lips to slip the phallus into me with sure even pressure. Pushing it well into my sex. Stopping to touch the clamp on my clitoris. My vagina clutched at the phallus, grateful to be filled again. She watched me expectantly. I wondered why. Only for a moment. The item inside me began to itch very softly against the interior walls. She rocked it, in and out. Up and down. Scratching the itch, and inflaming it. `I couldn’t take this!’ It felt as though a thousand ants had invaded my moist sex and were trying to drive me insane. I struggled vainly against the bondage and heard her speaking to me from a long distance.
“The more you struggle. The worse it will be. I have no intention of removing it until after you pleasure me. Accept it.” I tightened in subdued cupidity and tried to lay still. It was going to be impossible, but I could not force it out with the strong convulsive movements of my muscles. She buckled it into place with the extra straps and replaced the clamps on my lips sealing me shut tightly. Untying my legs, she made me stand. Taking a small ball from the box before her. She threw it. “Fetch that for me on your knees.” I did it, quickly. More urgent because of my condition. The movement irritating the flames deep inside me. She sat on a chair and waited for me to bring the ball to her with my hands. She threw it again, when I did. Then again after that, and again. I lost count after ten. Doing what she wanted in urgent haste and debasement. Hoping to please her enough to take the driving orgasmic irritation from inside me. “Do not orgasm, or I will leave it in all night.” She said, amused. I hung my head, ashamed that I had been so obviously aroused. “Come here and turn around.” I did it. Bending over so she could see my pale buttocks and keeping my legs well apart. “Back up closer to me. I need some leverage to push this in.” She had another phallus in her hands and I almost bolted from her. `Not more of the itching stuff, please.’ It was one of those thin then wide then thin ones. The kind that stretches your ass impossibly large then closes around it. My hands, bound to my waist, were no good to me. I felt the small end being pushed relentlessly into my ass and rested my face on the floor in resignation. The lube on the thing felt like nothing but KY or some such. No matter really, it was getting uncomfortably too large to go inside me. I knew that it was not going to make it all the way in. Too big, and to insistently huge to fit in my tight little ass. I was wrong. Traci simply wrapped her legs around mine, and pushed hard. Whispering over my back to me. “It only hurts for a moment.” This was that moment, and I almost climaxed at the stretching ache of the thing being set well into me. Spearing me, filling me. Buckled into place to be held even against the push of the muscles of my anus. She stroked my back. Pulling on my hair so I would stand up. “Come with me.”
She walked towards the door with normal stride. I, in my misery, struggled to keep up with her. Unable to close my legs or walk with any kind of grace for fear of dislodging the clamps on me or the toys in me.
It seemed that we walked the corridors for a long distance, coming finally to a door. I followed her inside and found myself in a Victorian bedroom.
“Come here.” Traci said, as she sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the leather panties down her legs to the floor. For the first time in my life I was faced with the pleasure organs of someone of my own sex.
I went to her and she released my hands. Leaving the cuffs on. “Bring your head down here so I can take off the gag.” I did as she bid me too. Working my sore jaw up and down for a moment. She pulled on the chain holding my breasts. Jerking me closer so she could twist her hands in my hair and kiss me. Her mouth sweetly pliant on mine. I was beautifully stunned at the feel of her soft lips on my lips. Her tongue slipping into my mouth to taste mine. She leaned back. I did not expect what she did next. It was a totally agonizing surprise as she wrenched the chains from my nipples with a sharp snapping jerk. I yelped in pain. The blood rushed back in a flood of heated agony making me fall forward unto the bed to rest on my arms, moaning with pain. Her hands” caressing the burning tips. Kissing them and suckling them. Flood of moisture in my wet opening, lessening the itch. `Could that be it?’ It flashed into my brain. `The hotter I get the less it will irritate me?’
“Put your hands on my sex, slave. Feel me.” She ordered. I moved to her right and touched the soft inner part of her thigh slowly moving my hand upwards. In a sweet caress that men had been using on me since the first man. She was wet and docile. The softly damp margins of her cleft were warm and full of heat. I had never known that another woman could be so velvety, so fine. Slipping a long finger into her satin sheath. I watched her face darken with passion and her breaths deepen to pants. I put my thumb on her tiny button and Traci moaned. She quickly moved up the bed to rested against the pillows. “Put your face between my legs, slave, then eat me until I orgasm.” She commanded, her tone was ritually hard. I wanted to hesitate, but did not want to suffer all night. I did it, promptly. I kept my legs apart. Laying face down near her thighs. Resting on my elbows, widening her with my thumbs. She was all fire and water. Hot and moist. The scents of pure need reaching my nostrils, gently intoxicating. “Do it now.” I dipped my face into the saturated flesh and hesitantly tasted the salty smoky fluids of another woman for the first time in my life. Losing myself in the submission. I let myself go wild on her. Nibbling, nuzzling, probing with my tongue the opening I found there. Licking the drenched clitoris that hardened to granite under my inexpert ministrations. I bit it gently, feeling her grab my head. Making me laugh against her swelling flesh. I was relentless in my goal. The rush of pleasure flowing from her to me. Tightening the phallus’ impaling me. Sweat forming on my skin so I was slick. The hunger between my legs growing to unbearable proportions. Cosmic, galactically huge. I knew she neared climax when she grabbed my hair and pulled my face up tightly to the hard kernel of heat at the apex of her thighs. I sucked it like a dick, creating a deep pulling flick with my tongue on the underside. She overflowed. Bucking her hips, body tensing under me. I hung on to her hips, fighting not to orgasm on my own. Letting her release run over me in a flood. She pushed at my head. Crying out for me to stop, that it was enough. I pulled my face away, reluctantly. Wiping my cheeks on the spread beneath her. When I looked up at her, I knew what she was feeling. I had felt the same way many times before. Traci lay like a starfish, open, soft, spent, for several long moments. Trying to still the trip-hammer beating of her heart. Control the shifting spasms in her sex. Oh yes, I had been there myself.
“Lay on your back, and spread your knees.” I did so, waiting for her. My legs starting to ache from need. The itch almost gone, but still felt deep within me. She caught my eyes and twisted her fingers in one of the chains closing me. A quick pull and the clamps slipped off with a little biting drag. She took the folds and rubbed the circulation back into the spots gently. I felt like a spring being tightened past the breaking point. I was inexorably being wound tighter towards gratification. She did it again and I made a small sound of surrender.
“Please, Mistress.” I begged her, shamelessly. She shushed me. Unbuckling the belt and removing the butterfly. I tensed as the blood flowed back twice as fast into my clitoris. Swelling it to unbearable levels of fire. She leaned over me and I licked the nipple that rose above me. Just a small liberty in desperate arousal. `Please.’ Taking another magic jar from the nightstand she pushed her whole fist into it. The thickly moist fluid covered her hand with a glaze. I watched in curiosity. Traci turned to back to me, leaning over me.
“I will make you climax and before we are through here tonight. You will know how to please a woman, as well as a man.” She slid the phallus from my sheath and when the air hit the labia the fire ignited. Scorching me. The desire forming a palpable corona around me as the aphrodisiac-like itching became an inferno. Taking the oily hand, she pushed two fingers into me. I sighed, as the fire near those two small digits died. The dissipation a keening undertone to the other places inside me. Searing overindulgence. Going straight to my clitoris, soaring need feeding the wetness in my vagina. Traci went to work on me. Pushing, probing. Rubbing the damp moist envelope of demanding privation. Her careful fingers brushing the little nubbin of heat as she worked me. She touched my hips with her other hand, holding them still. Making me realize that I was moving in urgent haste. The stroking of her fingers roughened. She bent her head down so I could feel the warmth of her breath on my hairy opening. Taking the last set of clamps in her teeth. She pulled them off to toss them away with a flick of her head. Her mouth closing on the hard knot of pleasure building between my legs. Sucking it the same way I had.
I exploded under her. My hands forming claws and holding her head against me. Legs shaking with stress as her arm worked me with fierce, tumultuous thrusts. Driving me to frenzy. The quick little flicks of her tongue and the suction pulling every bit of orgasm from my shaking body. I arched up and froze in mid-air. Awash with feeling. Throaty cries leaving me gasping. A sudden deep thrust from Traci’s strong right hand and she was still. Licking the satisfied little lump gently, causing my limp legs to jerk in pangs of afterglow.
She stroked my sweaty stomach. Her hand just resting at the gate of my womanhood. Her eyes alight with satisfaction and profound gratification.
“Still think women are to soft and easily manipulated?” She’d been in my diary. I answered her, breathlessly.
“No mistress, I was wrong.” She wiped her hands on a towel and started to unbuckle the belt at my waist. It fell loose and I let her slide it from underneath me. She made a motion for me to roll over. When I did, she pulled the larger phallus from my anus with gentle force. The powerful muscles clasping against the removal. When it was out, and I was empty. She came back up to my head. Watching me, carefully.
“You think like a man does. Even when you are with me, you do not think as I do. Your goal is the orgasm, the profoundness of the sensation. I am merely an instrument to you.” I nodded at the truth in her words. “I want you to wait for me.” She went away for a moment to another cabinet. When she came back to the bed, what she had in her hands galvanized me in lustful fear. She had a double-headed phallus. “Stand up.”
I followed her orders willingly, unsure what she was going to do to me. I was quiescent as she approached me. Putting another belt on me, but lower. Slipping the large life-like organ into me to secure it inside me. I started to heat up again. She lay back on the bed, looking up at me. Opening her legs and playing with herself. Her fingers sliding deeply into her sex.
“Now, you are a man and have a woman willing to fuck you on the bed before you.” I put my hand on the jutting organ between my legs. Her little speech exciting me and capturing my imagination. My hand stroking the stiff toy, harshly. Once when I was in High School. I had this erotic dream where I made love to one of my female classmates. I freaked. Going two weeks with no sleep, no food. Filled with angst. I had been a homophobic mess. I had fantasized about another woman. NO! Finally when I had been unable to stand it anymore. I had gone to my school counselor. A nice man named Bill. He listened to me and finally asked me; had I been a man or a woman in the dream. I had to think about it, but I had been a man. On top, aggressively screwing this girl. I had been a man. Bill had said that it was a normal part of adolescence to have dreams like that. My subconscious was merely wondering what it would be like to be the other sex. It didn’t mean that I was gay, just curious about what it would be like to be male. Now, I wasn’t a curious teenager anymore. I had voluntarily entered service to Traci, Jon, and now Adam. I was being asked to play a role for Traci and my failure to do so, would result in a bought of severe punishment. I was feeling a little to good for that. I wanted the pleasure to continue. I stood there and wondered how I should approach this. Traci was using her hands to good purpose. I could see how wet she was from here. `I could do this.’ The very moment I thought this I slipped easily into the masculine role she wanted from me. I became every man that I had ever been with. Not the boys trying to get laid, but the men who wanted to satisfy themselves and leave a satiated women on the bed thinking about the next time.
I moved towards her purposefully. Knowing that my eyes had gotten harder with lust. She moved back up on the bed a little fearfully. I smiled playfully at her. Advancing over her with the organ sticking from the apex of my thighs. She touched her breasts, arching her back enticingly. I ran my hands down the furrow created between them, stroking the soft skin. Feeling her heat. Playing with her breasts. Her abdomen, rolling her hips as I lay between her legs. My fingers moving with firm even pressure on the satiny smoothness. Hearing her moan softly in a pleading way for me to fill her. I lay gently on top of her, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply. My tongue moving with hers and my hands traveling over her neck. I felt her legs opening wider and went up on my arms. Leaning my head down to kiss her softly. Touching her tiny eyes and small features. Watching the glaze cover her face with that animal in ecstasy look I loved to see on the face of someone in my bed.
.
“Put me in you, honey.” Her fingers found the organ and she slid it into her tight little well. I pushed home hearing her gasp at the size of it. I pumped her, my hips easily finding the rhythm. My legs tight together and the feel of the thing bouncing against my own clitoris very exciting in its own right. I could come this way very easily. Her legs wrapped around my waist. When she did so I sat up bringing her hips with me. Still humping her, but able to get to her clitoris with my hand. I pulled the labia wide, just a little roughly. Manipulating the wet knob with an agile flicking motion of my fingers. The organ grinding into her hot sex. I could feel pleasure sweeping me as well. I leaned back over her quickly, clutching at her and rolling my hips in an ever-increasing tempo.
She was all small noises and grasping hands. Hard kisses and sweeping passion. I could feel her pulse going up in the soft spot on her neck. Her damp hair flowing over my face. I rotated us both, putting her on top. She didn’t miss a stroke. Rising above me to pound down unto my hips. I touched the junction of her thighs and she stiffened into climax. Cresting on top of me and driving herself beyond it. Head back, hands on my stomach, shoulders shaking. I rubbed her cleft to draw out every tremor she could give me. My left hand on her hip to steady her. Smiling at the fact that I could do this to another woman. She collapsed on top of me and I felt my own passion hit a low-level buzz. Almost pleasure, but more like symmetry. I was satisfied by her climax, her response. She rested and crawled over my body to lay on the bed to catch her breath. “Did I please you, Mistress?” I asked and she pulled me near to embrace me. Smiling into my hair, practically purring with contentment.
“Please me? As if you couldn’t tell you did.” I chuckled, pulling her closer. We lay like that for several long moments as her body quieted. I listened to her breathing return to normal. “Is there something you want to do now? We have a few minutes of free time before I have to give you back to Jon.” I looked at her. Curiosity warring with uncertainty. “I want to see what another woman looks like without having to worry about satisfying her. I want to see the mechanics. Can I look at you, Mistress? I’ll pleasure you after, but can I just look?” She immediately propped some pillows behind her back and opened her legs. She was so understanding of my curiosity I wanted to weep. Moving down to open her was a strange experience. I found myself identifying the parts that I remembered from anatomy class in High School. Clitoris, Urethra, Vagina, Perineum, Anus. Soft secret parts that were hidden in tissue so velvety yet tough. I gazed down in wonder.
“Haven’t you ever looked at yourself?” She asked of me. I shook my head, answering her truthfully.
“No, never seen myself. Didn’t seem to be relevant. Mistress.” I added as an afterthought. “Are these the average?” I found several little holes for piercings and, surprisingly enough, found myself playing with them.
“No, I have larger openings, there are some interesting little games that require that.” I looked up at her in surprise. `What kind of games were those?’ She touched my hair, and sat up. “That’s enough for now. Jon will give you back to me sometime soon. I have to clean you up for him now. Your night is far from over. Adam has something planned for you.” I already knew that, been warned. I stood up slowly. My body tiring even as my mind did not.
How many orgasms can one woman have in one day? It looked like I was about to find out.
COFFEE KLATCH
I had showered again. Feeling a little revitalized by the mundane activity. I was now very hungry for food and I was surprised that the next place she took me to was a small kitchen. A simple supper awaiting me of salad and a sandwich. I was beyond grateful for this courtesy. She must have realized that I had come immediately from work without having time to eat.
“Traci, thank you so much. I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to concentrate on the next ordeal without some food. My stomach growling at the wrong moment would ruin the mood.” She laughed at the relief in my tone. The quips falling easily from my tongue.
“How did you know that you could speak in here?” I shrugged and dug in. Speaking softly through the food.
“It just seemed logical. The bathrooms are clear, except for the bath chamber and you did not make me kneel or eat from a dish on the floor, so I figured we were in a cool room.” She nodded at my logic. Sitting next to me.
“Jon’s pretty impressed by you.” I grinned impishly. Chewing carefully. “He’s half in love with your diary. Almost couldn’t put it down.” She smiled, asking another question that had me blushing softly. “You liked being a man in my bed?” I told her about High School and slipping into the `role.’ “Is that how you do everything? By slipping into a role?” She appeared truly interested, so I told her the truth.
“I try to put myself into a place were I can feel, but not become emotionally involved.” I ate a piece of buttered bread with obvious enjoyment. “Emotion is an almost useless endeavor as far as I can see. When you allow that part of your spirit to rule your life it just seems to clutter up everything. I don’t like disarray, so I avoid it.” She appeared surprised by my answer, so I elaborated. “I slept with one of my friends one time. It was wonderful and we enjoyed it immensely. It was so much better than with a lover, because we both needed it and wanted it to be good because we would be seeing each other afterwards. I was able to keep my perspective, but he couldn’t. He changed and I didn’t appreciate it. He lost sight of what was truly important.” She cocked her head.
“What was important?” Traci was curious about what I would say. The interest shining in her eyes.
“The physical was important, not the emotional flotsam that guides almost everyone in the world. I was into the release. He wanted the depth. We were all but diametrically opposed on ever opinion that we had.”
“How do you feel about Love?” How was I to answer, she obviously loved Jon, but who in this world did I love? Was there anybody? Janie? Mary? My closest friends? I `loved’ Adam, for his cruelty and his beauty. Was that really love? I shrugged again.
“I don’t have any. In the last five years, since my divorce. I have loved no one. I was afraid to end up in another abusive relationship, so I avoided lovers.” “Your husband beat you?” I nodded grinning, knowing what she was going to say. “Why do you do this? How can you stand it?” She stiffened in misunderstanding. “How can you stand us?”
“Blue.” She looked surprised. “That’s it, right there. I read this book one time that talked about the differences between literal and ritualized violence. I like to be subjected to pain. I get off on it, but when I tell a lover that I want it. They make me feel like a freak, or some kind of deviant. In the `normal’ world. I have to marry someone that beats me bloody to get what I can get here safely. The service you do here is vital. This is the difference between rape and making discordant music between two consenting adults. A rapist doesn’t get you off, he treats you like a toilet.” She almost smiled at the analogy.
“Don’t you miss emotion?” I almost shuddered in distaste. Why would I want to feel someone hurting me, or making me do the dishes, or making me feel like an idiot? It just made me sad.
“The last real emotion that I felt was anger and that was just before I broke my ex-husbands nose and told him to get out. I’m encased in ice and I’m almost afraid of what would happen if I thawed. I like you. I liked watching you orgasm under me. I enjoy sucking cock and screwing. I enjoyed making love with Jon and having him hold me, but that was a rare occurrence. I don’t know why I suddenly couldn’t stand the aloneness any more. Why I had to reach out for something more than the sterile little world I lived in, but I had too. I did it and I agreed to three months. I’m a very cold, clinical woman. It”s what makes me a success in the world of business, but it”s also what makes me such a miserable failure as a human being.” She shook her head sadly. “Don’t be sad. I’m basically a good person. I have some people in my life that I do care for. All women and I think I’m a good friend. I’m dependable, loyal. I can keep a secret. I’m good to my family. I read voraciously. I’m quick on my feet and I spend a lot of my time laughing.” I finished up, wiping my hands on the napkin set out for me. “I just wanted more and came here to look for it.” I drank the water provided for me in quick gulps. I followed her lead when she stood back up. Going down the hallway behind her.
TOOLS OF THE TRADE: HARD LESSONS
“Pick one.” Jon said, slowly. His eyes watching me closely. Sitting in a blue velvet wingback chair. His legs were crossed and his hands draped over the carved armrests loosely. “Pick the one you would like me to use on you, if I allow it.” He motioned for me to stand up. I was as graceful as my rubbery legs would allow. Striving for some kind of dignity in this new place. The punishment room.
It was as all the other rooms in this house. Warm enough to be naked in yet opulent enough to catch your eye. This place was blue. The carpets, the flowered wallpapered walls and the dark plush leather furniture. It had a Victorian feel to it. Lace curtains on the walls. A low functional bench in the heart of the room. Subtly frightening in its covert elegance.
I went to the cabinet that Adam had opened and looked inside. There was every kind of whip, crop, quirt and paddle, in the neatly ordered recesses. It was astonishingly awesome. I could practically feel my fingers twitch in apprehensive anticipation. Something to use on me, well let’s see. I immediately disregarded the crops and quirts. They are only good on one spot and I couldn’t take any more welts on the inside of my thighs. They were sore enough, in all the right places, just as they were. The paddles were more a connoisseur type of thing and I was not one of them. If someone was going to warm my buns I prefer they do it over the knee, using their big hard hands. I had no idea how to use the bullwhip, so I passed them over as well. It was the multi-tailed cats that I looked at. They were true works of Art. All black, but the variety of shapes, hefts and lengths, was astonishing. Every single shape that I could think of was in that cupboard. I reached for one and turned around to Jon smiling shyly.
“Can I try it on the pole, Master? It will help with my decision.” He nodded, amused at my eagerness. I reached for one that I knew would be perfect. Twenty-inch tails of half- inch by quarter-inch black leather. Weighted at the head end. I held it in my hand, running the tails through my suddenly shaking fingers. Swinging it over the floor to check the sweep of the cordings. Nice, easily the finest piece of its kind that I had ever held. Neatly sewn, with no rough edges so it could be used for penetration. I kept my eyes on the sway of the straps and wandered leisurely towards the marble pole in an erotic fog. My eyes blazing with concentration and forbidden passion. I let it build lazily inside me. Sighting my swing on the thick dark column. I took a deep breath and let my passions explode from me in sudden violence. My arm swinging effortlessly. The heavy sound a persuasively powerful reverberation up my arm, well into my shoulder. It landed with a solid snapping crack. Nice even heft and fluid motion. Not too stiff, but not too much slack either. It would sting like a son-of-a-bitch, but not leave real deep marks. I swung it again and liked the feel of it. I liked it a lot. I came back to where I had been before and quickly made my decision. I turned back to Jon falling gracefully to my knees. My entire demeanor respectful. My hands suddenly quaking with frank intimidation. I held it out to him. Jon took it from my hands. “Is this what you’ve chosen?” I licked my suddenly dry lips. Hoping to generate some moisture in my mouth so my tongue would move unimpeded against my teeth. I nodded and spoke.
“Yes, Master.” I said easily. His face whimsically inquisitive as he asked me; `Why?’ I blushed with mortification. Surely he already knew, why? Did he have to hear me say it? He was waiting for my response. “It is heavy enough to hurt without leaving welts.” I felt my voice go soft. Painful to be so exposed before both of them. “So you can beat me longer, Master.” He reached over to touch my breasts, lightly. Making them swell with craving under his hands. Heaving with the search for air.
“I could leave welts on you with this, Anne.” I listened to his gentle, confident voice. Cowering near his boots with fear. I answered in a pitifully small voice.
“If you so wish it, Master.” He pulled his hands away from me. I almost moaned.
“Why did you pass up the other things? The quirts, the crops?” Don’t make me explain that. Not in front of Adam. It would bring to light too much of me, make me too naked. To visibly exposed. “Explain to me, now.” He did want me too.
“The quirts and crops are for the insides of the thighs, and across the buttocks. I am sore already on those places, and wished to avoid punishment to them. The paddles, never feel as good as the Master, or Mistress’, hand. The bullwhips have the potential to do emergency room level damage. They terrify me, Master.” I twisted my hands together in desperation. Miserably aware that I was showing my true soul openly with my words and it made me very uncomfortable. “I have no wish to be hurt so severely it will transcend the pleasure I get from the lash. I do not want to ruin the experience.” I fell into a distressed uneasy silence. Waiting for his response to my words.
“Pick out a quirt, a crop, a paddle, and a bullwhip.” No! My heart cried out inside me, but went I do it slowly. Procrastinating in wretched foreboding. Looking at the selection in the cabinet. I had no idea what to look for in those things. I had never really had them used on me. They had always been picked out by Rob. I went pale and stood before the doors in alarm. Teardrops forming on my lashes. I did not know what to do. My uncertainty a palpable feeling in the air. I did not look at either of my tormentors, but I gulped thickly around the knot of terror in my throat to grab the first things my fingers fell on. Turning to rest my forehead on the floor before Jon in mute obedience to his command. Hands above my head, offering him the instruments of suffering he would use to torture me. His hands removing the items from my nerveless fingers. “So hard for you to obey me, willingly. You put-off whatever you find distasteful. Anything that terrifies you, or excites you, beyond what you consider acceptable. You did not take the same care in choosing these things as you did the other. You will be corrected for that.” I whimpered, keeping my head near the floor. Crouching near the soft black gloss of his boots. I felt his toe press on the back of my neck, forcing my head to the carpet. “I want instant obedience without hesitation. You are not giving it to me willingly and quite obviously need a lesson in it. Adam put her on the bench. Legs up.” I did not resist Adam’s taking me to the bench, nor him tying my legs almost straight up from my hips. Did not protest the wide belt he buckled at my waist holding me tight to the bench. I kept my eyes at the level of his belt or below. Feeling handles at my hips that I clutched for support.
Ignoring the sympathetic noises he was making as he tied me. I was not afraid really. I had been tied before. All part of the head trip right? Jon bent over me and laid the things on a table beside me. His eyes were hard.
“There is nothing on this earth that will make me angrier at you, Anne. Than any show of open reluctance. Procrastination is a form of rebellion and I cannot allow you, or any other slave I deal with, to consider it respectful or proper.” Across the room I saw Adam taking off his shirt. The well-muscled chest with its thatch of dark curly hair revealed for viewing as he lay the garment over a dark blue velvet chair. Adam touched the inside of my thighs. My legs growing rapidly uncomfortable as they hung over me. “You will learn what it means to rebel and it is a hard lesson.” Grief flooded me, as I realized I was in a lot of trouble. “I will expect to only have to treat you this way once, Anne.” He stood up and turned to Adam. Voice flinty, imperturbable. “Beat her until she says her safe-word.” I went cold. “If she makes it a least fifteen minutes, make her come and put her in your bed. Anything less, clean her up and send her home.” Fifteen minutes? I bit my tongue to keep from begging. “Pay particular attention to the insides of her thighs. I want to see some welts in the morning.” I tried to still the hammering in my chest. Tried to catch some easy breaths, because I was hyperventilating badly. Beat me until I said my safe-word? Send me home? I had been that bad?
Rebellion will not be tolerated, that was in the rules for me to see. It was something I knew by heart and not scrambling to do as he bid was considered rebellion? I saw Adam swinging the door closed behind Jon and realized that we were alone. He turned back to me, smiling.
“I knew that you would get the beating. You had to blow it on your first day here. Balky little Prima Donna. I don’t know which I’ll like more. If you make it, or if you fail, so I can go back to being on my knees.” That explained a lot about his hostile attitude. He was jealous of my lowly status. I kept my mouth shut prudently. “Close your eyes, bitch. Prepare yourself to speak in less than five minutes.” I stiffened and growled. It sounded like words and the words were `fuck you.’ He laughed, picking up the small quirt and tapping his leather-clad leg suggestively. “Same to you.” I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes as he swung the little quirt at the soft inner part of my thigh. I jumped at the sudden agony. It had no effect; Adam just continued his work methodically. Ignoring the little signs of discomfort and the inevitable tears of remorse. Ignoring even the louder cries that he tore from my burning lungs. All the things that I had done in the past to stop the pain, tempt a master to give in and pleasure me. Checking the burgeoning moisture between my open thighs whenever he changed to the whip, or the paddle, or the cat.
He stood over me, after I did not know how long. Stroking the fiery redness and pinching the pulsing welts. My face crimson, my legs quivering with submissive softness. Eyes hot and head aching with unshed tears. Head rolling helplessly on the bench. My hands holding the bars by my waist so hard my knuckles were bloodless white with strain. It was a litany in my head, over and over. A chorus inside me. `I would never, ever, do what ever I had done to anger Jon again, promise. Just, please, don’t make me say my safe-word. Anything but that.’ Adam made sure that I was watching him and very deliberately picked up the second-to-last thing he had to use on my insulted, wounded, excited body. He picked up the Bullwhip. I moaned out loud with terror.
I was in Hell. Adam was the devil and he followed Jon’s instructions to the letter. Ignoring anything I did that was not what he was instructed to respond too. Giving me bare seconds to catch my breath, before starting in again on some new horrible punishment. He very deliberately swung the whip. It hit the already sore flesh of my inner thigh, making me call out. Arching into the tight bonds. Every single stroke he laid on me with it, made me cry, groan, moan, or beg him to stop. `Please, stop.’ I would not use my safe-word. Not now, not ever, if I could help it. He kept going until I was so sore that the lightest touch of his fingers would cause me pain. The slightest brush, much less continuing blows of the hard braided leather. He stopped suddenly, and looked down at me.
“You will say it. I have no desire to be in your place and Jon told me to make you say it.” I shook my head and swallowed a sob. He looked down at me for a long moment, and then walked away. Coming back with a bamboo cane. “Say it.” My chin quivered, but I shook my head. “Last chance.” He said, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead to land on my stomach.
“No, Handler. I will not. I have been rebellious, defiant. Unwilling to please any but myself, but I will not say it.” That was going to be impossible and he knew it. “Okay, brace yourself.” I felt liquid fire across my buttocks. The whistling scream of bamboo slashing the air, before the cutting impact on my shrinking skin. I lasted exactly four strokes without fighting the bonds for release actively. Ten before screaming out in extremis. Broken by his determination. His voracious tenacity.
“BLUE! BLUE!” Adam immediately stopped his movement in midswing. I collapsed in on myself, shattered and sobbing. So very sorry I would be leaving here. I had failed utterly. Pulling deep shuddering breaths into my lungs to weep them out brokenheartedly. The sudden quiet stillness of the room painful. Adam threw the cane, across the room and knelt over me. I turned my face into my shoulder, not looking at him. Not wanting to see his triumph at my expense. The warm room was quiet but for the noises I was making. I was absolutely miserable.
Instead of releasing my body in order to send me home. He knelt between my spread thighs and dipped his tongue inside my opening. Stunning me. His mouth bathing my wet stormy cleft. Plunging deeply inside the moist folds and pushing his nose against my clitoris until a wave of tremors shook me. Assaulting my senses with sudden heat. Unexpected impetuous need flowing over me. Need made all the more bitingly tender by the soreness of my inner thighs. His soft dark hair harsh upon my skin. The rapid flow of scorching inflammation over my body inexplicably arousing. I clutched his head in desperately shaking hands. Feeling it curl around my wet fingers as craving gripped the core of my body. A pinnacle of voluptuous sensuality, like nothing I had ever known before, had been reached. Its culmination rolled over me. Stretched my taxed body to its limits and tore a deep-throated cry from my throat. Unable to move. His thick hair brushing painfully against the sore spots on my legs. His large hands holding my sweaty hips to the bench with an even relentless efficiency. Neither my hands, nor my desperate movements, could dislodge him from my trembling grotto. Panic made me try futilely to do so, but it was hopeless. I felt my overflowing climax exclusively in the deep valley between my legs. Body taut, breath held rigidly behind clenched, aching teeth. Fingers in spasm. My heart trying to beat its way from my chest. Experiencing for the very first time. The annihilating drama of Le Petit Morte. The Little Death, in my supreme affliction. Pain rolling through me and over me. Pushing me farther than I had ever been before in pleasure. I couldn’t take it. `It’s too much!’ I fainted, falling into blessed, merciful darkness.
The sudden limpness of my body must have alerted Adam to the fact that something was wrong with the person beneath him. I couldn’t see for a couple of moments and my face was white. Feeling a queer whirling in my head. It was a momentary thing, but very strange for me. I had never ever in my life done anything even remotely like it.
“Annie?” I felt hands on my face touching me and knew that my arms moved weakly to feel them. “Are you okay?” I clutched at his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him. Realizing that in the few seconds that I had been woozy, my legs had been quick-released.
There was some comfort in that and in the strong arms wrapped around my weak body. I started breathing again. Heart-pounding. “Are you okay?” Adam asked again, insistently.
“Yes, Handler.” I said as I took a deep breath. “Thank you for taking the time to correct me.” He hugged me in relief and I could hear him chuckle deep in his chest. His big hand cradling my head against the thatch of thick dark hair on his sweaty chest. I closed my eyes and rested against him for a few luscious moments. When Adam moved away to stand up, he swung me into his well-muscled arms. I tried to protest, but he silenced me with a small assertive noise. “You’re not going to start arguing with me now, are you?” His voice was warm. I shook my head and kept my arms around his neck.
“No, Handler.” I lay quietly in his arms, wondering at the fact that he did not strain under my weight. Carrying me as easily as one would a child. I did not know where we were going, but did not ask. I was amazingly calm. I had made it through one of the worst ordeals that I had ever encountered. I had not broken until after the allotted fifteen minutes. There was some twisted pride in that fact. `How had I done it? Why had I done it?’ There was an interesting question. Why? One of the most fascinating questions I could ask about myself. I was a responsible businessperson. I did not feel like a freak or anything. I just felt alive and tingly. Awash with sensuality. Was the only reason I was here because for so long I had been dead inside, and now I felt alive?
How, was easy. I had picked up a paper, dialed a number and met the most stimulating people that I had met in a long time. Was it that I simply refused to be held prisoner by the morality of other people? Was that it? Was it an act of ultimate rebellion? A safe outlet for the darker side of me that tormented me so completely?
I was too tired and too sore, to think about these things for very long. They were questions of personal philosophy that I would have to ponder over an evening when I had some solitude. Time enough for that later.
Adam came to a door on the third floor and opened it. A bedroom done in deepest forest green, but it looked lived in. There were books on the shelves and the spread was ruffled. A desk had paperwork and files on it. A computer, scanner, printer arrangement beside it on a lower stand. A closet in the corner, partially open, had suits in it. Nice suits of silk wool blend that shone with the fine quality of the fabric. How intriguing. He lay me on the bed and secured my hands above me by one single bond. I looked like I was praying, but I was comfortable. He tucked the spread around me and went over to the closet. I watched him taking off his clothes with interest. I had never seen him naked. Just partially revealed by the open fly of his pants and if what that revealed was any indication. I was in for a treat.
“Close your eyes, and rest, Anne. You’ll see enough of me tomorrow.” He smiled when he said it. The pillow crunched under my head, as I rested on my side. I felt him crawl into bed next to me. His big warm body against mine. A creeping lassitude stole over me. Created by his warmth, and the softness of the bed. I sighed, and let it flow over me. He started speaking quietly into my ear. Asking me a question so unusual I came almost completely awake.
“Do you hate me?”
NIGHT TALK
“Do you hate me?” Adam asked again in his velvet soft voice. I had been half-asleep, comfortably bound by the wrists to the headboard. Lazily relaxed in the after-midnight gloom. I could barely keep my eyes open. His question surprised me. He pressed tight against my back, one hand spread against my stomach. Fingers unfolded, radiating heat. I snuggled my buttocks backwards to rest on his manhood. Nice to cuddle for a change.
“Did you want me too?” I could feel his organ stirring, stiffening near the back of my thighs.
“No, but I wondered.” His fingers pressed against the raised marks on my skin. Waking them so they pulsed faintly. “Why don’t you?” Mild tone, and innocently curious.
“Let’s see.” I quipped. “You’re gorgeous, sensuous, hung like a pony, and you have a good solid swing in your strap. A strap, I might add, that you like to use on my cowering slave body.” He laughed, and pressed nearer. “Why should I hate you, Adam? You were doing what you were told to do. The same as I was. I would have to hate Jon, and I cannot hate him.”
“Do I scare you?” His timbre was hoarse, raw sounding. As if these questions had been bothering him for most of the night, but he did not know how to express them. They were to intimate.
“You’re supposed to scare me. That’s the point. I said `blue and you stopped. How scared can I really be?” Adam’s hands roamed over me, as if checking to see the extent of the damage he had done to me. Lazy pressure, calming.
“You are not like some of the people that we’ve had here.” He sounded almost amazed. Why?
“How do you mean? I’m older?” That low smoky laugh from deep in his chest again.
“You smiled in the middle of a scene. Do you know how rare that is? You spend all of your time wide-awake, and not caught up in some romantic fantasy of love in chains.” I liked the way he put that even if he wasn’t speaking about me.
“If I didn’t enjoy this. Why would I be here? This isn’t like going to a movie, and thinking that Brad Pitt looks a little off-color. I can’t really walk away when I’m tied to the table.” I was a little puzzled. What else would bring someone here?
“Some people come, because they feel they deserve nothing better than punishment. They feel it more every time they climax. You don’t, do you?” I shuddered with sadness.
“How terrible for them.” I meant that in the deepest sense. “I look on the strap, most of the time, as a reward. It’s the same even when its meant as punishment or I cry. If I really fuck.. OOPS. Screw-up. I get sent away, and I won’t be punished so wonderfully anymore.” I tried to put my thoughts together in a coherent way, so they would be easy to understand. “Literal violence is a terrible, soul-killing thing. I had that.” A small sympathetic noise came from him. I pushed that memory away. “Maybe at one time I did too, but it’s not that way now.”
“How is it now?” He sounded like he really wanted to know, resting his cheek on mine. The feel of masculine beard, and male smells, floating over me in indolent circles.
“Now, it’s just sensation. I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing. Never far enough or long enough. Some kind of one orgasm rule with him. I had been so straight, and when he left me I never thought that I would miss it as much as I did.” I could feel my eyebrows knit together in a little frown. “It was frustrating to go on a normal date, and try to ask for this? You ever try to explain this to a Catholic?” He laughed outright at that picture, and I knew he understood. “I’m scary enough to most men, because of the brain in my head, without a WHIP in my hand. Rob, for whatever reason, saw this inside me, and brought it to the light. I just cannot go back. Frankly, I don’t really want too.” Adam’s hand moved to the backs of my thighs, and explored the deep valley between them. My voice fell to a whisper. “I can hide it, or enjoy it. I don’t want to feel like an outlaw because I like this.” I moaned under the pressure of his palm on the inside of my leg.
“There’s no reason too, as long as you can find other players.” I bent my knee to give him access, and felt two long thick fingers move into me from behind. I tried to remain still. “Hmm.” He murmured, and his organ pressed upwards on my back. “I did promise you something exotic tonight, didn’t I?” Yes, he had. How kind of him to remember. I gave him a ritualized answer to his words.
“Yes, Handler. If it is your wish to continue. I will gratefully submit to your attentions.” He moved up, and back so I could roll over onto my stomach. My bound hands together before me. I relaxed on my arms, and waited with my knees bent. He fondled my back, silently. Reaching over me to the nightstand. I knew basically what he was reaching for, so I did not watch.
“Have you ever done this before?” He asked, as a thick semi-solid mass started to melt between my butt cheeks. His fingers following the moist path.
“Not in a long time handler, but the mistress opened me there earlier with a phallus.” I felt a small twinge of embarrassed fear. Adam was much larger than that toy. His fingers felt larger than the phallus had.
“You like it though, don’t you?” His voice was lower, and more demanding. I felt his thumbs in me, and the slippery lubricant being worked deep by his fingers. I groaned, as sympathetic wetness seeped from my vagina to run down my thighs. His fingers sure, and delicate, and gentle.
“Yes, Adam… Handler. I do.” I could feel the tension growing in my jaw, as he rose behind me. One of his hands open on my lower back, and the other guiding his penis to the tight opening of my anus. I tried to remember how to do this. Feeling the pressure he was exerting to unseal my flesh becoming overtly uncomfortable. The organ being angled down, and into me, even as I tensed.
“You make your own pain here, Anne. You are resisting me.” `I’ve forgotten!’ My mind screamed. “Open yourself to me. I really have no desire to rape you right now.” I bore down, and felt the tight little ring expanding around his hot hard meat. The hand on my back was joined by another. Both sliding over to the sides of my waist to grip my hips. “Here it comes, Annie.” He whispered the customary warning. “It only hurts for a moment.” Then Adam entered me smoothly. Stretching me impossibly wide to accommodate his organ with the familiar burning ache that accompanied any anal penetration. He was in, and I felt the incredibly strong muscles back there trying in vain to expel him. Making him groan with pleasure. Holding unto me hard with his hands. He started to move in me then, pumping me. Soft in, quicker out, the rhythm that told me he knew what he was doing. That this was familiar territory for him. I wouldn’t be injured, but I would be opened. He started to speak, and I realized suddenly that the words were as important to him as the actions. The cries, and groans, part of the intoxication for him. I let myself go, as his voice primed the orgasm threatening to flow over me. “This is one of the most intimate ways to examine a slave. They create their own pain. This requires absolute compliance, and absolute resilience.” I believed him. “Does it hurt good yet?” He asked, and I shook my head, around the tightly clenched teeth in my mouth. He grabbed my breasts with his hands, and kneaded them. Leaning his weight on my back until my legs quivered.
“I don’t know how much more I can take.” I ground out, and the words worked on him, he moved rougher, and meaner.
“You can’t take it?” I shook my head. “If you really can’t stand it, do not want me in you, then use those tight little muscles to keep me out. Your weakness is why I prefer men for this really. They can take more, and harder.” I gripped the bars of the headboard. Pulling close, taunting him over my shoulder with a playful little growl. I pushed back hard towards him, and felt every last inch of him slide into me painfully, deliciously. Filling me to bursting. He laughed, a low menacing sound. “Hold still. You want to be cored like a man?” I nodded, and kept my eyes closed. “You think you can take it?” I nodded, and groaned loudly. My hands curled tightly to the bed for support. He took a hold of my knees, and lay me flat on the bed. Legs wide for access, his body following mine down. “You want to be fucked in the ass, little novice? You got it.” His excitement came through his every word, and the quivering touch of his thighs on mine. The fact that he was so excited knocked my own excitement up a notch. Fever pitch, and poignantly degrading to have to beg to be fucked harder. My perineum was pulled taut, and the little muscles grew hard because my legs were flat against the bed. I grumbled deep in my throat from the discomfort. He spoke into my ear, and his tone meant business. “Do not cry out. I don’t want to hear it. You asked for this. Now, all I want from you is your orgasm.” I let a tear roll from my moist eyes, down my cheek. He ground into me, as every part of my nether regions tightened with the friction. He was practically grunting with the force he was having to use to get back inside me, when he pulled the flesh out of the opening. My legs shook with spasm, convulsive movements of tired aching muscles. Muscles struggling towards climax one last time. His flesh inside me burned with a fiery gentle pain. My breath shortened. My clitoris pulsed in tempo to my fast, panting breaths. I was going to come, and in my depleted state it was going to be agony. Adam started to speak to me, hands moving on every part of me he could reach from behind. Clutching at me, pulling me near. Fingers rough.
“You’re ass is so tight, and you’re so close to coming. I can feel it.” He was absolutely right, and he knew it. Talking dirty to me, rough like he would talk to another man. “You’re tighter than a man. I feel your need in my organ.” Adam shoved his hand under my hips. Urging my body to crest under his prodding. Fingers handling my clit, and I rose up against his weight a mere inch to give him access to the suffering knot of desire at the top of my cleft. “It hurts, I know it does, and you’re so good for taking it this way.” Sweet caress on the back of my hair. The unexpected tenderness shot adrenaline into my sex. “You’re going to come with it. Boil over, and flow with it. I’m going to watch you come, and it’s going to be soon.” He pumped faster, and the excruciating pleasure reached a new peak for me. I groaned, and cried out with it. His finger taking my clitoris and pinching it gently, until I exploded. Lifting up to my knees, and giving him free access. Eyes closed, head back. Mindlessly making incoherent animal noises. Feeling him in me. Achingly, impossibly hard. Filling me, and leaving me empty. He was so hot, so cruel and full. I put my head between my arms, and silenced the bestial scream of joy-filled torment that his spasmodic thrusting climax tore from my hoarse throat, by biting the bedspread until my jaws ached. That wasn’t what Adam wanted. He twisted his hands in my hair. Pulling my head up high so he could hear my agony. Forcing his penis harder into me. Drilling me with his organ. Churning against me until every last bit of his orgasm, was released into the condom he wore to ream me. Slowly Adam collapsed on top of me, pressing me into his bed. His breathing a harsh rasp in my ear. Long fingers tightly grasping my damp skin. The abrupt hard jerks of his organ slowing to twitches in my now loose anus. He whispered against me.
“Jesus Christ, Girl. Jesus Christ.” I didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but before I went to sleep cuddled next to him in his bed. I realized something. I felt just about the same way.
MORNING LIGHT
I woke to sunlight slanting across my eyelids and the unfamiliar feel of another body against mine. For one horrifying second I thought that I had gone to a bar. Gotten drunk and made a ghastly mistake. The truth came to me after a moment. `Thank God, I was only in a house of S/M. Although why that thought should comfort me, I had no idea. I don’t really do mornings. I much prefer the sweet velvet darkness, closer to the dusk than any type of sunlight. It’s well, too bright during the day. The night seems to hide a plethora of sins that are too easily seen during open daylight. I did know one thing about this fine morning and that was that my bladder was full. I had to use the ladies in the worst way. I was also bound to the bed and didn’t dare to release myself. I tried to keep myself distracted by going over work in my head, but that was no good. Work really had no place here and I couldn’t concentrate because of the discomfort. All I kept seeing was Bob, trying to divine what I had meant on Friday. That irritated me. Why was it that a complete idiot like Bob, had managed to get the job as department head. When I, more qualified, had been passed up? He must have gotten the big boss laid or something. I really dislike the Bastard. Arrogant, ignorant and a business backstabber with a ton of friends. Enough of that subject.
I felt Adam stir and prayed that I had not been the one to wake him. I wished that I could get up, wash my teeth, but that was for him to decide. I tried to be still. It was very hard. My arms were sore from the bindings and my legs ached from the beating they had gotten. Other than these minor aches and pains, not really much more than a usual morning, I did feel pretty good. I stretched and felt Adam putting his hand on my hip to still me.
“Lay still.” He commanded. I did try to obey, but I couldn’t stop a certain amount of random actions to deal with the expanded state of my urinary tract. He pulled me hard against him and I almost lost control because he had his hand on my abdomen. I drew a sharp breath between my teeth as I fought my body for control. He woke up enough to realize that I was in a truly natural, delicate state. He sat up and I awaited his judgment. “That bad, huh?”
“Sorry, Adam.” I grinned sheepishly. He undid the binding and sat me up. Pointing me in the direction of his private bathroom. I followed it, relieving myself quickly, gratefully. Resisting the urge to use his mouthwash, because my mouth felt like glue, just taking a quick sip of water from the faucet.
He went in after me, closing the door. I waited on my knees by the bed. One of the rules was: It is disrespectful to be in the Master/Mistress’s bed, unless you are tied to it, or he/she is in it. Adam came out several moments later. Sitting naked on the edge of the bed before me.
“Put your hands on my thighs.” Compliance. His organ getting stiff before my downcast eyes. “Lick my balls and suck on my penis until I cum in your mouth.” I bent my head and did as he asked of me. Letting him hold my head as he shot his release deeply into my throat so I could swallow it all. Cleaning him up with my tongue afterwards. What a lovely way to start the day. I fought a low level arousal, but knew that I would not get to orgasm until after dark. Another rule was that the daylight hours were for training in tasks and skills. No form of sexual release was allowed during the daytime for me.
Adam sent me down the hallway three doors to Jon and Traci’s room. I was afraid, but remembered to go in on my knees. Bully for me.
MORNING MEALS
“Come in, Anne.” That was Jon, answering my tentative knock. Waiting in much the same pose that Adam had been in. I approached him quickly and kissed his bare feet in obeisance. I felt his hands in my hair, smoothing it quietly. “Stand up and show me the insides of your thighs.” I immediately spread my legs before him as far as I could. It was not enough for him and he ordered me to assume a more revealing pose. “Put one of your legs on the edge of the bed beside me.” I did so immediately. Suitably desperate to please him. I couldn’t take another beating like last nights. He looked at the dark purple welts and appeared satisfied that I had been duly chastened. “Did you learn anything?” A question.
“Yes, Master.” I started slowly. “I learned that I could take more than I thought I could.” He nodded in understanding. That must have been what I was supposed to learn, because he did not press me for more.
“Come then, let’s start the day.” He had me kneel before him and provide the same service to him that I had for Adam. His fingers harder than Adam’s as he gripped my hair. Holding me up against him until my body screamed for air and tears fell from my eyes in slow crystalline trails. “Good girl, catch your breath and go do Traci.” Traci too? I didn’t hesitate, even though my pulse went up quite a bit more than it had been. I was just having a hard time figuring out why I was so reluctant to be with her. `Only when you have to think about it. You do it willingly enough when you have too.’ There was that voice again. I knelt next to her on the other side of the bed. My face looking down at her smooth thighs and gently dimpled knees. I took a deep breath and waited. Traci surprised me with her actions.
She touched my face first, as she readied herself for service. Wiping the remnants of moisture she found there with a tenderness I did not expect. She spread her legs around me on the edge of the bed. I swallowed convulsively and struggled to control my emotions. It wasn’t that I did not like Traci, just not that way. I closed my eyes and did it. Rendered unwilling ministrations to her heated little mouth until she quivered with subdued release against my face. Hands in my mussed-hair and tangling within it. I gave her a couple of other little attentions that I knew I liked during oral sex. A finger inside her wet cleft and deeply burying my tongue well into her as I was doing her.
In my heterosexual uncertainty, I did what I knew was more than she wanted so as not to stint her. I liked her enough to want her to fully enjoy my presence. She had a slave, and I, a Master. My ambivalence was not really any of her concern. It was Jon’s. He would notice, even as I hoped he would not.
I kept my head down near her feet when I was finished. Hoping to hide my true feelings from her. She touched my bent head and spoke sadly.
“It’s too bad you don’t really like to do that, Anne. You have a natural talent for it.” I gasped, sharply at her perception. Speaking out of turn. Looking up at her face. “I beg forgiveness for any perceived reluctance on my part, Mistress. It is the sad truth that our society has conditioned most of us to feel that same sex union is perverted or deviant. I want to please you, Mistress. I will work very hard on my attitude. Your perception of my prejudice is accurate. I beg your forgiveness if I have not satisfied you or offended you in any way.” I hung my head in shame and clutched at her feet. `Was I really so easily read, as that? Was I to have no secrets here?’
“When one is raised like that, Anne. The problem will disappear with time and determined effort.” She bent down and took my arms. “It is however something that we will have to diligently apply ourselves too.” I whimpered at the coldness in her tone. I held my breath and waited. Dreading what she was going to say, knowing what it was. “Why will you be punished?”
“For speaking out of turn, without being spoken too. Looking the Mistress in the face, and most harshly, for my uncontrollable bigotry against making love to a woman.” She appeared satisfied at my answer. Jon spoke to me.
“Over her knee and after the punishment, you can try again to satisfy her.” One of the hardest things I had ever done was lay myself over her lap and put my hands on the ivory satin coverlet on the bed before me. Closing my eyes. She was doing something to her hands that I could only feel over my back. Was she getting a paddle? Where was Jon? `Oh, please. I’m so sore already.’ I knew that I would not get any mercy even if I asked for it. I had made too large a mistake.
When her left hand touched my neck, I knew what she had been doing. She had been putting on leather gloves to protect her soft hands. Jon spoke coldly, over my back.
“Give her ten for each offense. Five more each, if she tries to get away, or covers herself. If you get tired, let me know and I’ll get you a paddle.” Traci responded to his words positively. Speaking to me quietly, in rigid control of her tone.
“If you come against the bed, or on my lap. I will know and the punishment will be doubled.” I didn’t think I could take sixty, but my mouth was so dry I knew I couldn’t speak. I knew that I had to and my voice cracked when I did.
“Yes, Mistress.” I said, swallowing convulsively around a new-formed lump in my throat. She started suddenly. The first hard blows almost brought me right off the bed with the heaving pain of it. I curled my fingers into the bedspread to keep from throwing my hands over my backside to protect it from the torturous beating. I bit my lip and started to cry softly into the bedspread. Silently sorry, not to have disappointed, but that I was being beaten for it. `I did not deserve this. I couldn’t help it!’
It was maybe halfway through it when something happened inside my head. Beyond the fire blooming between my legs and the wetness seeping unto the naked lap of Traci as she punished me. My body responding as it always did to pain with passion. `I had been wrong not to be with her completely.’ The thought stunned me, profoundly. `You’re also wrong to feel you do not deserve to be punished for your lapse.’ I had displeased and the voice I heard in my heart was the voice of the slave I was willingly becoming.
I had let my passions be ruled by an out-dated, restricting platitude that had no place in the life I was leading now. What a fool I had been! I had determined that it was okay to be with a man, but not okay to be with a woman. `Why the hell not?’ I wasn’t married to anyone, so if I was going to run my life by normal morality. I was technically some kind of sinner against the will of God, Right? Destined for the fiery burning torments of Hell. If that was the case, I may as well go for some good reason.
Not because I sat on a fence for months, afraid to enjoy anything new to me. If this was how I was going to act. I had no place here with these sexual adventurers. I was filled with remorse. I deserved the punishment cross. I was getting off so easily I cried with real pain. Spirit pain this time. She finished the punishment and I felt myself becoming the man/woman that had been in her bed yesterday. Wondering if I should give a name to this new facet of my personality. Maybe Alex. That was nicely androgynous. I went to my knees, eyes ablaze with desire for the taste of her. The feel of her. Trying to control the tears that flowed from me so readily. I took a hold of her knees and opened them with animal abandon. Putting my tear-stained face at the apex of her thighs. I proceeded to drive her out of her mind with my tongue. Hungrily, greedily. I was eating her sex with an abandon that surprised me with its intensity. She bucked frantically and ground her hips against me. Vainly trying to push my face from her clit, away from her drenched quivering opening. Not a chance. I was on her for the long haul.
Using every trick that had ever been used on me in my life. Circles, flicks, sucking, biting nibbles. I made her crazy with sex. I heard Jon coming quietly to kneel behind her supporting her shoulders. His hands catching hers to still them. Murmuring into her ear, telling her to enjoy herself. She, groaning in reaction, fighting my tongue for command of her soul, getting tenser and tenser under me. I put my arms around her thighs and held on for the ride. Working her harder than I had worked any man with my mouth in my life. I put all that I had into this simple act of oral intimacy. Vowing that I would make her climax as no one in her life had ever made her climax. It would be soon too. I could sense it. When Traci came. It was thunderous, shattering. Her orgasm rocked her almost pushing me over the edge of passion. The tiny mouth convulsing under mine in earth-shaking completion. Jon’s hands holding her closely when she collapsed back unto the bed. A wet, trembling mess really. Her temblor visible all over her still quaking body. I pulled back, suddenly concerned. Had I injured her? I looked up at Jon. My eyes wide. I mouthed without sound.
`Did I hurt her?’ He smiled, shaking his head. I grinned and dropped my eyes. Hoping he would forgive that small slip of my slave-like demeanor. I kept my face down, until he asked me formally.
“What have you learned?” I had to work for a moment to be able to phrase it the right way. The thoughts barely coherent. I managed it with difficulty.
“I’ve learned that I cannot afford to run my life by out-dated platitudes and bias rules of society. I am a pleasure slave, Master.” I stiffened with pride at that. “What pleases you pleases me, as well.” I paused, addressing Traci respectfully. “Thank you for taking the time to correct me, Mistress. I hope my service pleased you.” I felt hands on my head and looked up slightly. Not enough to get into trouble, however, just about breast level.
“You were adequately skilled.” She sounded slightly amused, but her voice still quavered. I took some small pride in that. “Go on back to Adam for your breakfast.” I nodded and scurried away on my knees. Finding the door and heading back to Adam’s room.
I had managed to conquer one prejudice, but what about all the others? My list had several other things on it. What about those? I didn’t want to think about those. I knocked on Adam’s door and waited for him to invite me in. His voice called for me softly and I went in on all fours gingerly. My knees almost raw from the carpet. “You’ve been punished?” His voice was filled with a disappointment that wrenched at my soul. Hurting me terribly. Worse than any physical blows could. “Yes, Handler, for bigotry.” He stood before me and I put my head on the floor by his feet. He was waiting. I knew that I had to keep explaining. “I was not unwilling, Handler, but my reluctance to be with a woman was obvious to my Mistress. She corrected me and I was granted the opportunity to make up for my transgression.” He chuckled.
“I heard that part of it.” I kept my face down to hide the smile. She had been pretty loud. “Well, enough, as long as it does not happen again. Terry is nowhere near as forgiving as Traci and he’ll be here this weekend. You balk on him and he’ll be on you until he draws blood.” I shivered, and kept my head down. Cowering at his feet the perfect picture of abject humility. “Come on then. Time for breakfast.” I followed him out and wondered what he meant. `Who the hell was Terry?’ I shivered with fear and put it out of mind. I was too caught up in right now to think about later. BREAKFAST
The kitchen was a safe room and I could walk in there unless specifically ordered not too. It was a relief to be upright again and I stretched some of my kinked muscles. It was also one of the places where I could ask questions about things. I intended to make full use of it. I looked around at the modern efficiency in the white tile and older accents. Nicely blended from the old-fashioned to the new. A big butcher-block table in the center of the room. White ceramic tile floor. Stainless steel sink.
“Do you cook?” Adam asked me and I laughed at how typically male that sounded. He grinned. “Is that a yes, or a no?” I said `Yes,’ and he pointed to the refrigerator, seating himself at the table. “Make enough for four, slave.”
“Yes, Handler.” I opened the door and found a plethora of food. They had fresh vegetables, eggs and quick-to-make croissants. I applied myself to the preparing of food and watched Adam with the corner of my eye. He was magnificent.
“You can ask questions, if you want.” He said and I kept going with breakfast. Finding spices over the stove. Including Saffron, amazing. “If you do not ask anything of me. You will be the first in history.” I smiled, turning quickly red.
“Any question that I’ve had so far has been answered in time. Why ask for answers that will be provided, or become clear in that same span?” He leaned over the block and rested his face on his right hand.
“Surely there is something you do not understand?” His eyes bored right into mine and they saw more than I wanted them to. I was sure. I had questions, but they were not about what I had been through. I could understand those things. All became clear by some method, or the other, either during or after the ordeal itself. I wanted to know the practical details, so I started in.
“How did the scope of this become so big? He grinned and started talking about the networking involved. It was fascinating. Almost a corporate structure. They had every type of personnel that they would ever need hooked into their business. Lawyers, Doctors (Like the one I was going to go too.) Plumbers, workers of all kinds. Craftsmen. They did as they wanted to the slaves, once a month, providing service when it was necessary. “Even the Doctor?” He laughed at the shock that was easily heard in my voice.
“Doctors have desires too and I for one would rather have him come here for something outlandish than to prey upon someone unwilling. His wife is grateful that he comes here. She knows we’re safe. I pleasured her the last time she was here.” I asked if he was a slave and he responded openly. “I want to be a Master, but no-one ever starts out on top. You have to know how far to go. Slave, then Handler, then Master. You, my dear, are at the bottom of the food chain.” That wasn’t how I felt about it so I said something that startled him.
“Not really. My cooperation is vital and I can stop the action with a word.” He looked surprised. “You knew that I had my eyes open. Did you think that even in pain-filled extremis, I would forget that I could stop my torment?” He shrugged slightly. “I like pain.” A slow smile spread across his handsome face. I found four plates and silverware. Laying them out.
“How did you feel when you realized that pain made you orgasm?” How profoundly embarrassing. That was the most personal of questions. I flushed crimson. “I felt ashamed that my body had betrayed me in such a way. Rob was whipping me in the most intimate way and I climaxed. Hell, I damn near set the bed on fire.” I set his plate before him, a sprig of parsley on the side, neatly. Presentation is everything. “It was easily the first overwhelming experience in my life. I was stunned, shocked horrified. I became convinced that I was mentally ill, sought counseling. The works.” He looked surprised. “Rob was very practical about it and that, at least, helped. We were to be married and I was everything that he desired. Why would I want to be cured when it would mean I would lose his Love?” The sneer in my words clearly audible. He asked me what had happened, after he swallowed a mouthful of food. I answered with the truth. “I topped him one night and he couldn’t take it. He balked and I lost respect for him. I was better than he was, more graceful, more committed.” I laughed and ate some of the eggs. “I could take more pain, enjoy it more. I positively courted punishment, because nothing he did could affect me any more. I had tested his mettle and found it lacking. We broke up not to long after.” We were interrupted by the appearance of Jon and Traci in the kitchen. I smiled and set their plates before them courteously.
They tasted the fare and complimented me on it. I knew then that I would be cooking on the weekends now, at least for breakfast. They all appeared to be satisfied. Sipping coffee that I had made at the end of the meal. The conversation light and brisk. Quick retorts, airy laughter. Nice to be somewhere my sense of humor was appreciated for a change. Jon watching me closely, as he had been all weekend.
“We have a full day planned and need to get a move on. Clean up and meet us in the study.” He said, Traci standing up from the table. I had put the dishes in the dishwasher, as we were finished with them. One of my personal habits, so there was no mess in the Kitchen. I watched them walk out the door and waited for Adam to tell me what to do. I did not have to wait for very long.
THE STUDY
Adam cleaned me up after breakfast as thoroughly as he had done before. Brushing and braiding my hair carefully. Letting me care for my teeth and skin. At the
end of the neatening process. Adam had me stand while he put leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. A soft leather collar around my neck. Just for the look as it didn’t have any hooks or eyes.
When he was finished he led me to Jon’s Study and left me on my knees just inside the door. The study was a very modern place. I could see the computer screen and the keyboard. Pale blue carpet and masculine looking pinstripe wallpaper. Two large file cabinets and several long locking cabinets of pale-whitewashed oak. I waited patiently, noting the enormous beveled mirror behind the desk. The comfortable leather chairs of white to the sides of the desk. It looked like an interview room, that’s what it was. I knew when I looked up at Jon that I wasn’t dealing with `Jon’ anymore. I was dealing with the Master. I greeted him as such by laying my face on his feet and kissing the toe of his finely polished boots. Another day of lessons. Quick frisson of fear.
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