At last, she picked up a solid silicone spatula, large enough to apply pain but flexible enough to reach the undercurves where Alena would sit—or not sit—for the following days. The pain should last long enough to make an impression, but the initial sting would not bite as hard as wood against flesh. Pleased with her decision, she ran the soft, rounded edges across the palm of her left hand. She’d gotten the very best money could buy, with an ergonomic padded handle to minimize cramping and discomfort. At least for her. She smiled to herself. Alena would think differently.
Oh, how good it felt to have a girl again at last! Waiting to start real discipline was harder than waiting for Christmas morning as a child. Easy, Raven. You’re supposed to conduct an audition, not give the first lesson. She pushed the thought aside. This is the audition. If she’s going to run away the first time she feels a little pain, we need to know now. After all, Raven’s condition was no safeword. This would be Alena’s only chance to verbalize protest or desire to stop the punishment. Would she rise up in anger and stalk out the door, cab fare in hand? Or would she dissolve into a puddle of tears? Raven had a hunch that if only she could find the sweet spot between too much and too little, she’d be able to disarm the girl’s shame and self-protectiveness. Then, perhaps, they could talk for real.
It was a risky and bold move, and her colleagues would disapprove of moving so quickly at a first meeting. Still, she had to try. If Alena bolted with tears and a few spanks, no one would get hurt. If she chose to stay despite her first taste of real spanking…well! The sky would be the limit. If only Alena would stay!
Without warning or preamble, Raven laid the red spatula into the pinkening flesh with machine gun precision. Each slap landed more noisily than the previous one, and she concentrated on painting each cheek a brilliant scarlet. She hooked one leg around Alena’s ankles and drew her body inward before slapping the spatula up and down the back of each thigh. Yes, Raven. Try to get the girl to stay by inflicting pain on half her body. Good move. She gave herself a mental shake. It either works, or it doesn’t. Alena hasn’t tried to jump up yet. It’s like plunging into a cold lake. Little by little, it hurts more. If you dive in all at once, it feels good after the initial shock.
The entire process took little more than a minute, but the change in Alena was astounding. She transformed from a stubborn, prideful woman into a writhing, desperate, and unselfconscious little girl who cared for nothing but saving her bottom from more pain. Her tenseness melted into soft, sweet submission and high-pitched whimpers.
“I’m sorry!” she cried in the universal language of spanked submissives around the world. “I’m sorry! I’ll be a good girl! Please don’t spank me. Ow!” But instead of protecting herself, she lay across Raven’s lap without a single care to cover herself up, move her bottom out of the way, or stand up. Indeed, she hugged Raven’s leg and cried into a pants leg.
Enchanted, Raven gave one last swat before setting the spatula down with regret. How gorgeous! Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this shy mouse would respond with textbook perfection. A film production company would pay untold sums to hire Alena on the spot. Another girl might have stalked out long ago, called the police, or erupted in anger. Instead, Alena lay across Raven’s lap and cried pure, sweet tears of a girl at her most beautiful.
In Alena, Raven had found the submissive of her dreams. She could hardly believe her good fortune. Gone would be her long days of loneliness. She could care for Alena, plan for her, and make her life perfect. She could protect this sweet girl. Her head whirling with plans, she lifted Alena to sit on her lap and wrapped arms around the trembling girl. “Shh, sweetheart,” she crooned. “You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.”
“I knew you would,” Alena murmured, resting her head on Raven’s shoulder.
“What?” Raven shook her head. That didn’t make sense.
“I knew you’d do what I want.” Alena gave a dreamy sigh and luxurious stretch before curling into Raven’s embrace. One leg drooped over the other, and an arm flung itself around Raven’s neck. Both lackadaisical and possessive, the girl’s body language was clear. You’re mine now.
A cold, sick dread settled into Raven’s stomach. How could Alena have known?
What if she’d been set up? Alena had friends who worked as dominants. Had she consulted with them to script the perfect scene? Had she feigned resistance, pushing the right buttons—oh, how easily a lonely mistress’s buttons could be pushed—to engineer the ideal response? No novice could speak and act with such perfection after a moment of intense pain. Alena should have protested a little, or expressed anger, or resisted.
Raven sat up straight, pushed Alena away, and stood up. She made her voice cold because otherwise it might shake. Alena stared at her, piteously rubbing red-rimmed eyes, but Raven hardened her heart. It was no good getting attached to a girl who might disappear tomorrow.
“Clara will show you to your room to prepare for dinner,” she said, and she nodded at the door. It was time, at last, to compose herself as her parents would have wished. She was the heir to the family fortune and officiator of all their charities and obligations. She was not a free agent, flitting about to satisfy her own whims.
Alena’s stricken face stabbed at Raven’s heart, and Raven couldn’t shake the feeling she was making a fool of herself. Midnight would sit Raven down for a good lecture on boundaries, pacing, and respecting the process. She had opened up Alena’s most tender spot, and she’d shoved the poor girl out the door. She was, she knew, in the wrong. And yet she stared at the top of her desk, fighting back tears. What had she gotten herself into? Why had she considered herself fit to discipline anyone, let alone a girl as magnificent as this?
What a foolish idea, anyway. She’d offered the allowance as a way to give back to the girl who would give Raven so much, but she’d forgotten the sorts of girls the money would attract. For all of her life, Raven had kept distance from those who liked her wealth more than her. She should have pretended not to have any money at all, and found someone who could love her instead of her money. What had she been thinking? She should spend her money on a professional submissive, someone who would have clear boundaries and expectations. Money would exchange hands, they’d pretend to care about each other, and she could cherish an hour or two in which she felt like a real mistress.
Instead, she’d reached too far. She’d wanted the real thing, but she offered money to make it happen.
How could she hire someone to playact love?
She opened her desk safe and counted out enough one hundred dollar bills to cover Alena’s monthly expenses. If money was what the girl had come for, money she would get.
Not Raven.
Chapter Seven
Alena buried her face in Raven’s shoulder because she couldn’t look anywhere else. She felt naked, in more ways than one. She hadn’t wanted pain. She’d expected a gentle introduction, but instead Raven had violated everything they’d agreed on. Or had she? Raven had said there would be no safeword, after all.
But when Raven cuddled and kissed her, Alena closed her eyes. Her bottom had blazed in unbearable pain at that last onslaught, but the fire had subsided into an overwhelming, soothing warmth. Raven praised her, stroked her hair, and murmured promises that everything would be all right. Alena couldn’t make sense of everything at once. The spanking hurt! She hadn’t wanted hurt, but under Raven’s tender ministrations the pain melted into something almost pleasurable. No, not almost. Purely. Alena had throbbed with joy, aching to take the relationship to a new level.
Relationship! Alena gave a bitter laugh, blinking at the ghost-like servant who ushered her into a guest room filled with a four-poster bed, matching walnut dressing table, and a pretty bathroom that opened to one side. What relationship? When Clara closed the door, Alena sprinted to the bathroom mirror. She pulled up her skirt and pushed down leggings and panties. She twisted and craned her neck to inspect the damage, but she couldn’t catch more than
a glimpse of redness. Surprisingly, her bottom didn’t sport imprints of the spanking weapon. She’d felt each one at first, certain her backside would wear a rainbow of spatula prints.
Alena rubbed her bottom that still crackled with fire. Instead of the blazing, unbearable pain of a few moments ago, her backside pulsated with warmth. She clasped each cheek, pressing her hands against the sore flesh, and tears streamed down her face. She turned away from the mirror so she wouldn’t have to watch her eyes puff up and nose grow bright.
She shouldn’t have admitted to pain. Raven wanted a more worldly candidate, someone who could take spankings without complaint. Alena had done her best. She had gritted her teeth, breathed hard, and tried not to be a wimp. That last part of the spanking must have been a test to see how much she could take without blubbering, and she’d failed. Why couldn’t Raven have warned her? Or was that the point, that she needed to find out whether Alena was a crybaby?
Alone in the rose-printed bathroom, Alena proved the formidable woman correct. She let go of her aching bottom and slid to the floor, burying her knees in the thick dark pink rug. She sobbed, rocking back and forth like a small child. She’d just met this woman, and yet she was shocked by the sense of loss. After all, she’d opened up a part of her soul she’d never shared with anyone before. Victoria had moved away never the wiser, thinking she had enjoyed some childish fun lording things over the younger girl. When Raven took Alena into her arms and told her everything would be all right, it was as if Victoria had come back, grown-up and confident. It was like Victoria calling her “my baby” all over again, and nothing in the world could touch Alena or hurt her.
When Alena had relaxed, allowing the pain to wash over her, she had reached out to Victoria. Not the real Victoria who laughed and gave a play slap, but the Victoria she had dreamed about for years. This Victoria would spank her, make her cry, dry her tears, and love her exactly the way she was.
Kneeling on the bathroom rug, Alena’s tears wet the arms locked in front of her. She couldn’t understand herself. She wanted to try a little spanking fun, get her bills paid, and go home. That’s all. Had she known that Raven would break down her defenses at the first meeting, would she still have come? The cold, almost cruel way Raven had ordered her to leave stabbed at her heart in a way she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t care about Raven, not yet. But to be stripped bare—almost literally—and brought to tears within a few minutes…how could anyone experience a moment like that and not feel a connection?
Alena’s bottom hurt more than she ever could have imagined, but it couldn’t come close to the rawness and shame washing over her heart. She should have known better than to let someone in. She should have known a rich older woman wanted a plaything, not a real person. Raven was probably bored and lonely, inviting a parade of unsuspecting women for an afternoon’s entertainment. She could afford to buy as many victims as she wished, and no one would speak up against her.
Alena remembered the rant on Kinklife of someone who had visited Mistress Lorelei and been rejected. A mistress who scenes will always be believed over a sub who tells the truth. Is that what it was like? Already Alena had noticed the imbalance of hundreds of girls begging for mistresses and a precious few mistresses shooing away the trolls. If she told anyone, what would they think? That Alena didn’t have what it took?
Shame overwhelmed her, and she curled her arms more tightly. When the knock came, she didn’t respond. It took a second knock, and a third, and fourth. At last, Clara entered and spoke in an emotionless voice.
“Miss Raven will see you now.”
In this world, everyone obeyed Raven. Alena threw her head back, followed the older woman, and marched to the dining room. She sat at the imposing table filled with more silverware than she could count, and she lifted a fork—most likely the wrong one—to her lips in determination. She would not let Raven in. Not a second time.
And when Raven thanked her for the visit and expressed regret that things hadn’t worked out, Alena lifted her chin.
“You will be compensated for your time today, and Peter will take you home.” Raven raised a fork to her lips, but she put it down without taking any of the food. Fish, perhaps. Something pale and translucent that fell apart once it returned to the plate.
No, thank you. Alena tried to speak, but her throat closed in. She was afraid opening her mouth would turn on the tears again, and she couldn’t allow this woman to make her feel any smaller than she already had. She’d leave with her dignity intact, at least.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Raven said, and as she rose to her feet she placed a hand on Alena’s shoulder. Alena flinched, pulling back. She couldn’t allow Raven to touch her. Not after throwing her away. Not after bringing her here, making promises, opening her up, and then shutting her down. She might as well have a scarlet letter on her shirt. R, for reject.
Alena got to her own feet, and she tightened her lips into a small, false smile. She would not say thank you, not even for the sake of courtesy. She wanted to go home, cry in private, and move on with her life.
“Good-bye,” she said, and this time she left before anyone had to usher her out.
* * *
Lorelei: Well? How did it go?
Alena jumped. Her computer logged onto Kinklife automatically, and she’d never bothered to change it. Usually, Lorelei’s daily hello messages were welcome. This time, Alena would have preferred not to answer.
Lorelei: Are you there?
Alena typed a reply, deleted it, and stared at the screen. She and Mistress Lorelei had been friends too long to blow her off now, but what could she say? People will believe a mistress who scenes instead of a sub who tells the truth. Alena wasn’t a sub, but how could she tell the truth?
A1star: Fine, thank you.
Lorelei: When will you hear the results?
Shame flooded through Alena once more.
A1star: She said thanks but no thanks.
When no answer was forthcoming, Alena bit her lip. She should have remembered Mistress Lorelei was a mistress first and friend second. There must be a code of honor amongst mistresses. They wouldn’t take criticism of their own, not even from a friend.
Lorelei: What do you mean? Did you talk for a while and realize you wanted different things?
Talk! If only they had talked. If only Alena hadn’t allowed her to…
A1star: I cried too much, so she wants someone different. It’s fine. How are you and starrygirl?
Lorelei: Young lady, I asked you a question.
Alena gave her laptop a shove. She didn’t want someone else to pretend at a relationship that didn’t exist.
A1star: I’m not meant for this kind of play, I guess. I told you it’s fine. I didn’t realize it would hurt so much.
Lorelei: Hurt? Why did it hurt?
A1star: Uh, you’re the one who always tells me a spanking will hurt a lot more than I think.
Lorelei: Hold it. She spanked you?
A1star: Yeah. So?
Lorelei: At the first meeting?
A1star: Well, yeah. Why?
Lorelei: And she sent you home?
A1star: Yeah, she didn’t like me. We’ve established that. Thanks for continuing to point that out.
Lorelei: I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this is not the girl I’ve been talking to for the past year. Tell me right now. What happened?
Alena backed her chair away from the desk, hugging her arms to her chest. How could she tell Mistress Lorelei she’d been sent away in shame? Although most of the spanking’s effects had faded, she still could feel a twinge now and then. Each one was a reminder of her stupidity. She’d showered three times in the twenty-four hours since she’d arrived home, but she still couldn’t wash off the memory of allowing Raven to spank her.
Alena walked away, but her phone rang. She pulled the receiver off the hook without thinking, and she held it up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Sweetie, I’ve put out requests for
information from everyone who knows Raven. Tell me what happened, or do I have to call the police?”
It was Lorelei, the commanding but sweet voice that had called her a handful of times the past year. Once when they had considered getting involved as a couple, once when Alena’s beloved cat had gotten run over by a jerk with a truck, and once for congratulations after the wedding. Alena tried to hold back her sobs, but she clutched the phone through gulps and raspy breaths.
“Please, tell me what happened. I’m very worried.”
With a gasp, Alena stumbled through the story. She burned in shame at her naivete and poor judgment, and she winced through Lorelei’s echoing of Raven’s scolding. You never should have gone without checking her references. Lorelei added her own. How could you have visited a stranger without setting up a safety call, someone who knew where you were and what time you were due back?
By the time Alena finished the narrative, Lorelei’s focus shifted. “Did she ask for your consent before spanking you?”
“No.” Alena whispered her answer. “But I went. I didn’t tell her that she couldn’t.”
“Did she give you any warning how you might react? Did she give any kind of aftercare?”
Alena shook her head, even though Lorelei couldn’t see her answer. “It’s okay. I got too upset. I shouldn’t have—”
Lorelei cut in, angry and hard. “She shouldn’t have. I’m going to talk with her and ask her what the hell she was thinking.”
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