Seemingly from out of thin air Vivien produced a pink plug the size of her thumb. “As part of your punishment you’ll be required to wear this.” She pushed it deep into Polly’s pussy, fucking her with it, making her aware of the fullness of being taken in both holes at once.
Polly’s eyes blinked closed as she hovered near orgasm, but just as sensation crept closer the plug slipped out. Her eyes snapped open and fixed on the torturous little device shimmering with her cream.
Vivien pumped the finger secreted in her ass a few times before slowly removing it. Polly held her breath as the tip of the plug nudged her and eased past the rim.
“Relax,” Vivien said, her free hand gliding reassuringly over Polly’s thigh. As soon as Polly loosened up, the plug slid inside.
She felt full. Claimed. If Vivien so much as exhaled over her clit, she’d come. Even from here she could see the pink rubber ring protruding from her bottom.
Vivien curled a finger into it and gave it a tug that caused Polly to clench.
“Good girl,” Vivien murmured. She leaned over and gaze locked with Polly’s, she pressed a whisper of a kiss to her clit.
Polly’s fingers tightened as she fought the urge to rock her hips upward.
Offering no more, Vivien straightened and stepped back as if to admire her handiwork. “Do you enjoy wearing a butt plug for Ma’am?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Polly loved it. She loved the way she felt spread and unmasked. Naked. Her most private recess discernibly invaded.
“Climb down and come over here to the spanking table. It’s time I reminded you how to address me.”
Doubt welled and Polly nearly blurted the safeword she’d put on the form she submitted. Spanking? She’d agreed to it. Actually she’d agreed to soft spanking but one person’s definition of soft might be different from another’s.
Vivien started toward a bench that looked more like a medieval torture device than something as benign as a spanking table. A center pad sat higher than the four lower ones around it that Polly intuitively knew were for her arms and legs. Restraints dangled for the lower pads.
Indecision gnawed at her. How could she climb up there knowing Vivien was going to punish her? Her brain warred with her eager body. Already she imagined the sting, the innate shame of being displayed for a spanking with her butt plug jutting out to remind her that she was Vivien’s willing slave.
“Hesitation will earn you harsher punishment, my dear,” Vivien barked. She selected a thin black leather paddle from her sinister collection and slapped it against her open palm.
The sharp sound spurred Polly into action. Blood simmering, she eased off the examination table. Every movement caused the torturous plug to shift in her bottom. Wetness from her pussy seeped down her inner thighs.
She wanted to stop, to writhe on the padded floor until she came. God, she needed to come. Fear of the unknown ratcheted her desire higher and higher.
A wicked thought occurred to her. If she bore the punishment well Vivien might let her eat her pussy. Still, as she crawled, naked and plugged, toward the spanking table embarrassment burned in her cheeks. Embarrassment that she shouldn’t want this as much as she did.
She glanced at Vivien as she climbed onto the table and positioned her arms and legs on the red leather rests. The pad under her was cool against her belly and breasts. The armrests were slightly lower than those for the legs and had the effect of lifting her bottom high as well as making her cunt vulnerable to the paddle.
“Mmm,” Vivien cooed. “I can smell your desire.” She tugged gently on the plug’s ring—as if Polly could forget it was there. “Have you ever been spanked before?”
“Not like this, Ma’am.” Polly’s voice was rough.
Vivien let out a mirthless laugh. “Before we’re through with your training I will spank you all kinds of ways. Over my knee. On this table. On the St. Andrew’s Cross. I’ll spank your ass, your tits and your pretty little pussy.” She flicked her fingertips lightly against Polly’s clit, making her moan.
Deep craving for more contact made her shake. The scenarios Vivien had described loomed in her head. “Yes Ma’am,” she heard herself say.
The smooth leather paddle glided up and down the back of one thigh. It teased across her ass, lapped softly at her pussy and then tapped the inside of one leg.
Polly gritted her teeth. Her fists knotted. This might be easier to accept if she were restrained. But Vivien, it seemed, knew the power behind the humiliation of willingly submitting to such a punishment.
“Why are you being punished?” Vivien’s voice slid over her like a smooth shot of bourbon.
“Because I didn’t call you Ma’am when I should have.” Polly couldn’t believe she was doing this, saying these things.
“You were disrespectful, weren’t you?”
“Yes Ma’am.” All the while that paddle whispered over her flesh, reminding her of her mistress’s wicked promise.
“Tell me what you need.”
What? The bitch was going to make her ask for it? Polly squeezed her eyes shut. Why couldn’t she stop shaking? She bit her bottom lip, unable to force herself to say the words.
A single, soft smack landed on her ass. She jerked, horrified that she was here and desperate for more at the same time.
“Speak up! Tell me what you need.”
“T-to be…to be p-punished.”
A harder lick got her attention. Heat pooled on one side of her ass.
“You’re continuing to be disrespectful. I think you’re enjoying this.”
“I need to be punished—Ma’am.”
“Yes, you do,” Vivien said. “You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?”
“Yes Ma’am.” This went against absolutely everything Polly thought she stood for.
“You’ll think twice about disrespecting me again.” Vivien placed a firm hand on the small of Polly’s back.
Polly held her breath, anticipating her spanking. Wanting it. Truly needing it. Time seemed to stand still as she felt the tension radiate from Vivien’s hand into her back. The paddle drew back and several sting-packed swats landed in rapid succession across one cheek and then the other.
Polly had expected one little smack at a time. But no. This was like a real spanking. The kind an angry parent inflicted on a hapless kid. It was savage and white-hot. Fuck soft. Her breath left her lungs in a ragged rush. Sweet fire blazed in her ass and the backs of her thighs. The paddle didn’t avoid the protruding ring of the plug or her cunt. Nothing was sacred. She couldn’t take any more.
And yet she pursed her lips to keep from uttering her safeword. Punish me! Spank me! Oh God, yes…
Oh…
Her pussy clenched. Her ass tightened around the plug. Oh fuck, she was coming! She mewled as wave after wave of the unexpected orgasm thundered through her. The table prevented her from squeezing her legs together but she pressed down, attempted to rub her clit against the pad.
Release transported her deeper into her own body until her mind went blank to everything but physical sensation.
And as the last gratifying spasm subsided, so did the spanking.
Floating, Polly lay still to bask in the conflicting pleasure and pain. The orgasm had felt like some sort of catharsis. Sherri’s description of feeling freed made perfect sense now.
Awareness filtered back slowly and Polly realized Vivien was no longer close by. She lifted her head.
“Come here,” Vivien beckoned from the shadows.
Polly’s legs felt like jelly as she climbed down off the table. There was more? She didn’t know if she could stand more after that.
Vivien sat across the room on a black leather sofa, legs crossed, a slit in her skirt falling away to bare the lacy top of a stocking and a tempting slice of ivory thigh. One arm stretched casually across the low back of the sofa.
“Kneel,” she said as Polly got close.
Body humming, Polly kneeled as she’d been taught, knees apart, hands behind he
r back. The soft ring of the plug nudged between her heels.
Vivien uncrossed her legs and spread them with all the allure of a seasoned burlesque dancer. Soft red light bathed her open thighs and hinted at the tantalizing slit hidden under the shadows of her rucked-up skirt. Joy surged in Polly’s chest. Her mouth watered.
“Did you come?” Vivien asked, trailing her fingertips up the inside of her own thigh.
Polly couldn’t drag her gaze away as her Mistress opened her legs to unveil more. Succulent flesh folded and creased like a seductive bud sheathing a tender center, the petals unfurling as she spread her thighs wider apart. Vivien raked a finger through her furrow, sucking in a breath as she reached inside herself.
Every muscle in Polly’s body twitched in anticipation. She’d never wanted to pleasure anyone more than she did right now. Silently begging, her gaze flicked to Vivien’s eyes.
“Come closer,” Vivien said, leaning forward as Polly crawled to her.
Vivien dragged her cream-coated finger across Polly’s bottom lip.
Polly’s tongue darted out to sample it as Vivien leaned back. “Hands behind your back,” she murmured even as Polly readily obeyed. “Eat my pussy. Make me come.”
As Polly bent, Vivien slid her hips slightly forward, opening herself, making her skirt ride higher on her thighs.
Usually Polly enjoyed the slow build of eating a woman’s cunt. She liked to nibble the inner thighs, to blow hot breaths across an aroused clit, to tease and gently explore.
Not today.
Trembling, she covered her Mistress’s pussy, opening her mouth to take as much as she could, laving the velvety petals with rough, needy strokes. She sucked at the flesh as if it were a juicy peach and then speared her tongue into the opening. Wetness covered her chin and the tip of her nose as she nuzzled closer.
Hands clasped behind her back, plugged tight, her ass cheeks burning from the savage spanking she’d received, she’d never felt more beautiful, more in touch with her body. Submission was the piece that had been missing, the element that brought sex into focus for her.
She thrilled at the knowledge. Looked forward to exploring more, to surrendering to the shame of needing Vivien’s cruel delights. But Polly knew with innate certainty that normal sex would forever pale in comparison to this.
Vivien’s hands speared into her hair. She pulled her roughly closer, tilting her hips up to grind her pussy in Polly’s face.
Polly moaned, struggling to mouth her Mistress’s clit against the rhythmic pumping.
“Eat my cunt,” Vivien commanded, her sharp tone encouraging Polly.
The fingers in her hair flexed and tightened. Passion vibrated from Mistress to slave and Polly felt the spasms of Vivien’s orgasm. Taut thighs gripped Polly’s face as the hip-rolling slowed to undulating waves. Short, harsh breaths echoed through the studio.
Polly rested her head against a soft thigh as she gently continued to lick Vivien’s pussy. Finally she kissed the orgasm-engorged clit softly before kneeling up. “Thank you, Ma’am.” The expression of gratitude came out so naturally, it shook Polly to her core.
Their eyes locked for several heartbeats and then Vivien opened her arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”
Polly didn’t hesitate. Something primitive in her longed to be rewarded and petted. She didn’t comprehend it, nor did she stop to try.
Vivien drew Polly into her lap and reached for a soft throw that she used to cover her. As Polly closed her eyes and snuggled her face into her Mistress’s copious cleavage, she felt Vivien’s fingers searching between her legs then tugging the plug loose. There was a moment of hot pressure and then she was free.
Empty.
Vivien’s arms closed around her and held her close. Warm and sheltered, Polly drifted, high on the muddled contrast of pleasure and pain. Her mind went blissfully blank to everything except the soothing fingers stroking her hair, the subtle fragrance of expensive perfume mixed with the sweet, earthy scent of Vivien’s pussy.
Only one thought intruded.
Her life as she’d previously known it was gone.
She was forever changed.
Chapter Four
With her eyes on the jazz trio on the stage in Sambuca’s Vivien sipped a dirty gin martini. Mallory Hayes sat on the barstool beside her, awaiting an answer to her question. But Vivien wasn’t certain how to respond.
“Well?” Mallory asked. “Am I wasting my time with her?”
Vivien centered her glass on the cocktail napkin. “No. Not at all.”
Mallory chuckled. “You’re being awfully tight-lipped about her. I haven’t seen you like this since…since the congresswoman was last in town.”
Vivien shot her a nasty look before glancing left and right to make sure none of the up-and-coming Nashville professional crowd overheard.
“You haven’t congratulated her on her nomination for Secretary of State?” Mallory grinned as she plucked an olive off the cocktail pick.
“Of course not,” Vivien said. “I’d rather not discuss her.”
“Then dish on Polly Purebred.”
Vivien couldn’t quell the little smile that played on her lips—despite Mallory’s bringing up Claire Barnes.
The affair had been brief. All-consuming.
And dangerous.
When Vivien had first taken Claire as a client, Claire had been in the midst of a heated campaign for her district’s seat in Congress.
She’d also been married. To a man.
Vivien inhaled at the memory of the outwardly polished, business-chic blonde. With her short hair and ironically studious glasses Claire had looked the part of a well-honed politician. A woman who appeared to have it all. A strikingly handsome husband. Two sons who showed promise. A dog. The white picket fence and everything.
Inside Claire was as broken as a person could be.
Vivien had been both therapist and dominatrix. And when Claire revealed the secret she’d hidden all her life—that she knew in her heart she was a lesbian—they’d become secret lovers.
Vivien had broken her own self-imposed cardinal rule never to get involved with a client but the wounded bird in Claire had spoken to Vivien on a thousand levels. She’d known from the start the relationship was doomed, that a politician whose star was on the rise would never leave a husband and career for her lesbian lover.
And yet Vivien hadn’t been able to stop. She saw Claire at every opportunity. They texted and emailed and communicated in every other way that was detrimental to a politician’s career.
It almost seemed as if Claire wanted to be found out. Vivien wouldn’t have discouraged her.
Until Claire’s landslide election and subsequent offer to take the position of Secretary of State. After that, reality had obviously set in because Claire ended it in a two-word text message.
It’s over.
“Don’t go getting all melancholy on me now,” Mallory said, bringing her back to the present. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. I just want to know how Polly’s first time went.”
Vivien’s thoughts shifted to the doe-eyed blonde she’d trained just that morning. Polly was eager. Curious. Perfectly suited to being a submissive. Vivien drew in a deep breath. Her thighs warmed at the memory of Polly’s hungry mouth moving over her pussy. She too was a wounded bird in need of rescue. Vivien wasn’t sure how or why just yet. But she recognized it when she saw it. “You chose well. She’ll do quite nicely.”
Mallory did an impromptu victory dance on her barstool. “I knew it!”
Vivien was in no mood to joke. She didn’t take her position as a Domme lightly. With each new client she walked a fine line of professionalism and romantic involvement. Most of the time it was she who gently kept them at a distance. Rarely—so very rarely—she was forced to remind herself to remain aloof.
Again the image of Polly’s head delving between her legs flashed like a lightning strike in Vivien’s mind. She’d never been eaten by someone so eager, so a
ffected by the need to submit.
Hell, Vivien had never allowed anyone to pleasure her the first time. But when Polly had spontaneously orgasmed while being spanked…
Vivien uncrossed then recrossed her legs, hoping to alleviate the needy throbbing in her panties.
This training wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined.
* * * * *
Polly glanced at her phone, hoping to see a text from Sherri. She needed to get out of her apartment, to be around people. Here she was tempted to strip off all her clothes and masturbate herself into oblivion.
But Vivien had forbidden it.
Additionally her Mistress had promised to punish her for coming without permission. The thought of that alone made Polly’s panties wet.
She raked her fingers through her hair and blew out a sigh. She’d tried to read, to watch TV, even to work on the song she was writing, but she couldn’t think about anything except what she’d experienced in Vivien’s studio.
Images, dark and tinged red, faded in and out of view in her head. Overriding them all was the picture of Vivien’s thighs spread to reveal the petal folds of her pussy.
An insidious voice urged Polly to slide her fingers into her panties, to touch herself. Trembling, she leaned against the wall and pulled loose the drawstring on her pajama pants. Vivien would be disappointed. She’d punish her.
But the thoughts of exactly what that punishment might entail encouraged Polly rather than deterred her.
A jolt passed through her when her fingertips found and moved in a circular motion on her clit.
Vivien had told her to text her if she masturbated, to let her know so she could punish her.
The idea of sending that message drove Polly’s arousal higher. She imagined herself on the spanking table, telling her Mistress that she’d been bad, that she needed to be paddled.
Her breathing hitched. She’d rarely been able to bring herself to orgasm without the use of a vibrator. Not now. Not today.
“Fuck…” The word was a muttered breath. Oh fuck yes. I’m coming. Sensation budded and crashed through her. Once wouldn’t be enough. She continued to rub until she came again and then, exhausted, she slid down the wall, basking in the warm waves still coursing through her belly, her pussy, her limbs.
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