by Louisa Bacio
Click.
All sensation stopped. “There, there,” Ms. Lucy cooed, stroking Clarissa’s forehead. “It’s all right. You’re done now.” She wiped away a few tears and untied the straps on Clarissa’s wrists.
Faster than the other woman could imagine, Clarissa sat up, looped her arm around Ms. Lucy’s waist and drew her close. She slanted her lips against Lucy’s and ravaged her mouth. Holding her firmly in place with one arm, Clarissa used the other to pull aside the crotch of Lucy’s lingerie and plunge two fingers into her pussy. The overwhelming sensation made her knees buckle, and Clarissa held her tighter.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away from me that quickly. Now it’s your turn to pay up for all that teasing.”
With her thumb, Clarissa caressed Ms. Lucy’s clit, first running it through her wetness and then gliding over it, faster and faster until Lucy’ nether lips clenched on her fingers. When she sensed Lucy’s muscles tightening beneath her, Clarissa slowed the movement.
“Don’t stop now,” Lucy hissed through clenched teeth. “I was right there, so close.”
“Really? I had no idea. Why would I ever stop for a breath—” She blew warm air against Lucy’s clit, flicking it quickly with the tip of her tongue, before continuing, “—away from you coming?”
“You vixen.” Lucy clamped her legs tight around Clarissa’s rib cage.
“No trying to take control now. You’ve already played that hand. Now, it’s my turn.”
This time, she wedged her palms under Lucy’s ass, elbows on the insides of her knees, propping her open, and used her tongue to lick her from the bottom of her slit all the way up to the clit. Her lover squirmed beneath her, hips bucking. Lucy weaved her fingers through Clarissa’s hair, holding her in place. With enough leeway to move to the side, Clarissa broke free and sucked—hard—on Lucy’s inner thigh, loving the way her pale skin instantly marred.
No more playing. She finessed her thumb toward Lucy’s back door, breaching the tender outer rim, and licked her clit in a slow, circular motion, knowing the sensations were building.
“Fuck, honey,” Lucy exclaimed. “You make me so fucking wet.”
How she loved it when the Mistress let loose and talked dirty. She always kept her emotions so tightly in check, but Lucy—unleashed—was a totally different woman.
“If you stop now—oh God, no. Don’t stop now.”
Clarissa had no intention of letting up. She continued to thrust with her thumb, stimulating Lucy’s darker side, and working up her sweet pussy, until convulsions rocked her body.
Spent, Lucy lay with her legs sprawled. “I don’t even have the energy to get ready for the day,” she confessed.
Clarissa curled up beside her, gently kissing Lucy’s lips and brushing back her hair.
“I’m so glad I met you,” Clarissa said. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”
Chapter Six
The classroom looked nothing like Mario expected. Along with culinary school, he’d done four—more like five—years of an undergraduate degree in business, day in and day out of sitting in small, uncomfortable wooden seats at too-small tables. Usually the walls were bare of pictures and painted a weird mixture of colors—royal blue, yellow and orange—all carefully chosen to inspire and stimulate young brains.
Yawn.
At SFSU, oversized primary-colored pillows lay scattered on the floor. It looked like someone had taken futons and pulled off the mattress pads, except these were fluffier. Still, the kaleidoscope color scheme continued with them.
Nerves attacked his stomach as he searched the already-crowded room for Lara. Of course, she’d chosen the front, right next to the instructor.
Teacher’s pet. The jumping in his belly increased at how exactly true those words were in this instance. At the sight of him, Lara waved and smiled. His feet weighted down with indecision, he trudged across the class, capturing bits and pieces of excitement from the various smiling couples.
Couples. This special section was supposed to be like a form of couples therapy, and when he’d signed up, he’d hoped he’d be working on his relationship with Lara—not vying with another suitor for her attention.
Plus, he hated to admit it, but he knew how to compete with another guy. Although he’d been with Lara forever, it wasn’t like other dudes hadn’t come sniffing around. But a woman? Not only did she have a completely different anatomy, but she was all emotional and touchy-feely, and no way in hell could Mario live up to those standards.
He’d been this way his entire life, and he didn’t imagine changing anytime soon. Hopefully, Lara would come to the understanding that she missed her life with him. Their life, the way it was. Otherwise, he’d be returning home empty-handed, and broken-hearted.
Damn, this new way of life looked good on Lara. This morning, she wore a light blue halter dress that clung to all her curves up top and hit about midthigh. He drank in the sight of her as if he’d been deprived and parched. Her nipples poked through the thin fabric. She couldn’t be wearing a bra. Her lips were swollen as if she’d been kissing someone—besides him—and he knew whom. The muscles in his shoulders clenched, and he tried to let it go.
“Glad you decided to show up!” She did a little jump and clasped her hands before embracing him in a hug. She was in a much better mood than yesterday.
His hand brushed her bare back, her plush breasts rubbed against him—yep, no bra—and his cock did a little Mr. Happy jump of its own. Awkwardly, he put some distance between the two of them so she wouldn’t feel how excited a mere touch from her made him.
“I almost didn’t,” he grumbled. “I don’t see what the point to all this is, Lara.”
When he pulled back, her lower lip was in an extended pout.
“Clarissa. Get used it. Don't get all serious on me right away,” she said and smacked his shoulder in a playful manner.
“Ow, that hurt,” he said, rubbing it. “Go easy on me.”
“Prove to me that you deserve it, and then maybe I will.” With those comments, she flounced onto the floor-mattress she’d claimed and patted the spot next to her.
Keeping his grumbling on silent mode, he knelt on it. Who would have thought of making the students sit on the freakin’ floor?
The lights dimmed low, and electronic curtains closed on the windows, dropping them into a subdued setting. As if on cue, conversations ceased, and a slow, jazzy background tune played through speakers mounted on the walls.
A bed, dark lighting and mood music. Better watch out, or I may drift off to sleep, or something more illicit. He glanced at Lara.
At the front of the class, a violet spotlight illuminated the podium. A connecting door from the side opened, and Ms. Lucy entered. Applause broke out throughout the room, and some idiot whistled loudly. Mario looked around. She’s a sex teacher. What’s the big deal?
“Thank you all for joining us for the inaugural section of the Master Class,” she said, which was followed by more applause.
Next to him, Lara leaned against his shoulder, infusing warmth wherever her body touched his. Was she on autopilot? Simply used to being so close to him? Or was she consciously aware of her physical actions? She brushed her hand up his thigh and rested it right at the junction below his cock. If he slid just a few inches one way, she’d be touching him. He zoned out the next bit of what Lucy said.
Maybe if she crawled out onto the floor on all fours and snuggled up next to him on these mattresses, he’d pay more attention.
He realized the timbre of the voice talking had changed.
“My wife Kimmie just got back from a long tour,” a man to the right of Mario was saying, “and we need to rekindle that sexual spirit. She’s been used to being with a squad of all men, and I’d like my sweet thing back.”
Good luck, buddy.
A petite, dark-haired woman behind him raised her hand next. “I’m Cherry, and this here is my husband, Blake,” she said in a Southern drawl. “He’d like to star
t doing some kinky things in the bedroom, and I’m not too sure about that.”
Mario looked her over thoroughly. Her pert breasts said “hello” to all willing to take a gander. Her husband glared at Mario, not liking anybody checking out his wife’s goods, probably. With a “sorry” shrug of his shoulders, he turned back around and caught Lara looking at her too.
Wait, she wasn’t ogling her also, was she? He definitely was going to have to get used to this new situation.
“Ahem.” Lara poked his leg. “You’re next.”
“What?” he attempted to whisper, but it came out too loud. “Aren’t the introductions voluntary?”
“Mr. Cavallo. We’re all going to be coming from a position of trust within this program. To get started breaking down the barriers, we need to share a bit about ourselves, and what brought you to the school.”
She really didn’t want him telling the truth. She better watch out, or she’d get what she asked.
A chorus of “come on, tell us, we won’t judge” cheered him on, and for the umpteenth time, he couldn’t help but wonder, What the hell am I doing here?
* * *
Judging by Mario’s grin, this could go really badly. Clarissa braced for whatever he was going to say.
“I’ve known this beautiful woman here,” he started, rubbing her shoulders, “for a very long time. After some, um, unexpected events in my life, and a bit of soul-searching, I decided to follow Clarissa to San Francisco and this progressive university.”
Thank goodness he didn’t get too personal and bring up the whole standing-him-up-at-the-altar thing.
“Well, who is your partner?” Ms. Fake Accent and Probably Fake Boobs behind them asked. Clarissa had seen how Mario had leered at the “pretty little things.” She had no right to be jealous, but she didn’t want to see him showing interest in someone else either.
She made eye contact with Mario, and he raised his eyebrows. What did she want him to say?
“Why, Clarissa is my partner in sin for all the course exercises,” he said.
“But isn’t?” another person spoke up on the other side of the room.
Lucy stepped forward in all her dominatrix glory. “And I’ll be the third in their group,” she said matter-of-factly. In her hand, she held a short riding crop, and she lightly tapped it against the other palm.
The classroom erupted in a titter.
“Ahem.” Lucy cleared her throat, which usually alone would get the attention of a roomful. Nothing.
Whap! She smacked the crop against the table, and the voices hushed.
“Thank you. Now, if you would all stop wondering about this arrangement and just take it as it is, we’ll move on.”
“What’s so special about him to join your group?” a man asked from somewhere in the back.
Lucy picked up a remote control and pressed a button, sending a spotlight of illumination on the speaker. The man tried to duck out of the light, but the woman he was with pushed him back in.
“Mr. Rogers,” Lucy said in a stern voice. “When I say that’s enough, I mean it. Unless you want to come up here, drop your pants and demonstrate the abilities of this crop, I’d strongly suggest keeping quiet. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Ms. Lucy.”
“Thank you. I was sure you’d see it from my perspective. Now, anyone else have any inappropriate questions?” She cast a glare around the classroom before pressing a button and turning off the light. “Wise choice.”
With decorum reestablished, Lucy walked behind the podium and set aside the crop. “Before we get started, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff,” she said.
One by one, the familiar faces of the instructors came in. Next to each other, Blaine and Wayne were indistinguishable. They’d dressed alike, and that was probably on purpose.
“You should be familiar with these two, as they work in the front office,” Lucy explained. “This session, they’re going to take more active roles in the lessons.”
“Right on!” They said in unison, high-fiving each other.
Next up were Mandi and Reed. Her dark hair hung in wide curls past her breasts, and she wore a saucy, black skirt with spiked, black heels. As tall as she was, Reed dwarfed her. Since the couple had met at the school, they were perfect for the new program. A former police officer, Reed taught all matters of Discipline—and some self-defense—and his favorite subject to work on or with was Mandi.
The former student took the podium and surveyed the audience. “Thank you all for signing up for the Master Class at SFSU. As a graduate, I can tell you the school changed my life,” she said. “I came looking for new sexual horizons, and I found them. Along with this hunk of a man, Reed.”
She twirled into the arms of her fiancé and kissed him, kicking up one foot in a classic pose. The class went wild, erupting in hoots and hollers, and next to her Mario joined in.
Who didn’t enjoy seeing love?
When they broke free, Reed leaned in to the microphone. Red lipstick was smeared across his lips, and he smiled a bit goofy. “What she said.”
After that love fest, Yvette, a diminutive Asian woman with extreme stamina, took center stage and explained her classes on physical conditioning and the benefits of delayed gratification.
“Now, let me introduce you to a special guest—Toni, Antoinella, the art instructor from our sister school All-Girls Academy, on loan for this session.”
The two women kissed cheeks European-style. “Grazie, Yvette, and to Ms. Lucy for inviting me here. As mentioned, I usually teach at All-Girls Academy, under the direction of Dean Grace,” she said. “By show of hands, how many people consider themselves artistically inclined?”
Clarissa looked around the room. Only a smattering of people raised their hands. Beside her, Mario had the gall to snort.
“I see we have some nonbelievers in the class,” Toni said. “We’ll be working in a variety of mediums. And by ‘art,’ don’t get held up by preconceived notions. We get very physical, and very dirty. Sometimes I even break out the edible paint.”
“Whoo! That’s more like it!” Mario said, only loud enough for Clarissa to hear.
“Watch it.” She elbowed him. “That’s how you end up a volunteer for demonstrations.”
Introductions done, Lucy took the mic again. “There are a few others you’ll see around campus, who have not been able to join us this morning,” she said. “We like to think of the staff as more than employees or coworkers. We’re an extended family, and we’re honored you chose to be with us.”
Pride swelled inside Clarissa. She enjoyed being part of the school community and helping others. If she left, she’d miss it terribly. Lucy dismissed most of the staff. Reed and Mandi took the reserved spot in the front of the room.
After this session, they’d split up into the various breakout groups, depending upon their interests and needs. Too bad they hadn’t planned a polyamorous class. Clarissa needed help on how to decide upon her partner.
“Now, let’s get started with today’s lesson. We’re talking erotic zones and pleasure points on the body. Anyone have a special spot that turns you on?”
“My cock,” a guy yelled out, followed by some laughter.
“Original,” Lucy said. “How about less obvious choices?” She walked to the whiteboard and in a red marker wrote COCK in large letters. It felt like she was calling the speaker a dick, and Clarissa softly snickered.
“The backs of my knees,” one woman answered.
“Behind my ears,” another woman said.
Lucy wrote the suggestions on the board. “Good, keep ’em coming.”
“What about fingers, when my husband sucks on them?” the military woman offered.
“Perfect,” Lucy said. “One key is to discover not only what turns your partner on, but also what turns you on. If your partner isn’t doing it, then you need to direct and speak up. Nothing is going to move forward unless you work at it.”
Mario pressed against her
and whispered into her ear. “Do you still like to be stroked from your lower back downward? A sensual massage, rubbing the top of your ass, with just the hint of naughty play.”
Judging by the surge of wetness between her legs, that was a definite yes. After she’d work long hours at the department store, he’d straddle her back, working out all the kinks and working her up into a frenzy. His cock poked against her ass, teasing and reminding her of his obvious presence.
“Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve had hands as strong as yours on me,” she said.
He flicked the tip of his tongue along the outer rim of her ear, sending chills through her body. “I’d be willing to help you out, anytime you need it.”
As he shifted away, Clarissa sensed the loss of his body.
* * *
The first time Mario kissed her went nothing as planned. It was the summer before her freshman year of high school. She was 13, and he had just turned 14. As the older “boyfriend,” he possessed vastly more romantic experience than she did, or so she thought.
Downstairs, her parents had converted part of the basement into a family room, which meant one part of it housed the noisy washer and dryer and the other portion had a rundown couch and clunky television set. Still, it was a haven for Clarissa to get away from everybody and spend some time alone with Mario.
In the heat of the day, the basement stayed relatively cool. They’d finished watching her favorite soap opera, General Hospital, and she got an all-body feeling that Mario was watching her. He was doing it more and more these days. As she turned to ask him what he wanted to watch next, he laid a big, wet, sloppy kiss on her. Her mouth had been open, and he bypassed a smooch for all tongue. Thinking back on it now made her want to giggle. At the time, it horrified her. Slime spread across her cheek. When she wiped her face, makeup came with it. If that was what kissing was like, no thank you. She wasn’t going to do it again for a long time.