Shameful Influence (Bound for Service Book 7)

by Emily Tilton

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh, no...” Her pussy clenched, according to her data feed, and her humidity line spiked. A bell sounded from Eric’s computer, and pre-orgasm appeared in red under the numerals. Sally’s no became a needy whimper.

  “I think you brushed her clit,” Eric told Vic. “She’s very close, so be careful.”

  A chat message popped up from Nora: If she comes, she comes—but try to cool her down a little.

  Eric hadn’t anticipated Sally’s responsiveness, but the collar represented a relatively new piece of equipment, and he had read memos saying that it seemed even more effective than the Guard’s research and development team had hoped.

  Vic couldn’t acknowledge his heliodromus’ order, but he kept the arm under Sally’s knees still, not yet bending her into position—a movement that might well send her over the edge even without direct stimulation of her clit. In the last twenty-four hours the Guard and the Institute had gathered an enormous amount of good new data about Governor Sally Donaldson’s body, above all with respect to her erotic triggers, but it would be a while before Eric could be certain exactly how to manage her training. At the moment, the difficulty seemed like it might well be keeping her pleasure in check rather than making sure she got the essential positive reinforcement every dirty girl deserved when she behaved herself.

  “Judy, get ready,” he said into his headset. “Vic, on three.”

  His capta and his nymphobus knew exactly what Eric intended in this situation: Sally might well start to climax, but by putting a quick end to the orgasm in its earliest stage Judy would move the girl’s training forward very nicely.

  “One... two... three,” Eric said, watching as on three Vic overcame the slight resistance Sally instinctively gave to the nymphobus’ manhandling and swept her knees up and back to place her helplessly in diaper position.

  The 10 flashed red, and the bell sounded twice to indicate the onset of orgasm. From Sally’s perspective, Eric knew, the past few seconds had all taken place in a blur. The young governor’s first experience of the outer reaches of subspace had dilated her sense of time so that from the moment she felt Vic’s hands on her waist to the moment Judy, having raised the strap high, brought it down hard across her sweet little bottom, every shameful, arousing, and painful thing seemed a continuous experience.

  As the crack of the leather on Sally’s backside echoed in the room, Eric dialed down the collar all the way and shocked Sally very lightly—the perfect reminder that her master was watching, that he had decided she needed whipping and had delivered on his promise of a painful lesson in obedience. She cried out and bucked on the table, Vic’s firm grip now on her shoulder as well as her knees permitting her only an inch of movement, if that. Judy whipped her again and again, in very quick succession. Each precise lash sounded like a pistol shot.

  For three full seconds, the 10 flashed red, and Sally screamed both in pain and in pleasure. Then the number dropped to 9. Sally writhed against the enormous hands of the man who held her fast, and Judy whipped her across the lowest part of her tight little bottom—currently the highest part, in the humiliating diaper position.

  Judy didn’t need Eric to tell her that she had put an end to the girl’s pleasure for the moment. A trained capta, the blonde woman could read the language of the governor’s naked body. She tapped the pink strap across the pink bottom three times, now, instead of delivering another lash. Sally whimpered in fright and the subsiding agony of what she had received already as a lesson for wearing panties when her master had forbidden it.

  “Spread the legs more, please,” Judy told Vic. The big nymphobus moved around to the head of the table so he could place one huge hand on each of Sally’s knees.

  The governor had been taken so thoroughly by surprise when the whipping began that her hands had simply clutched the edge of the massage table. Now, when Vic opened her further, she gave a little yelp and tried to put them under her backside to block Judy’s view of her pussy and spread bottom.

  “Get those hands away, Sally,” Judy said. “Three more lashes for trying to cover yourself.”

  Chapter Nine

  How could Sally bear it? She couldn’t, could she? She had never received corporal punishment of any kind before. She had called the New Modesty, with its ideas about old-fashioned family discipline, a dangerous regression. Now she had earned a nude whipping from an unseen master.

  She tried to move her hands, and she tried to keep her hands still. Beneath them, she felt the awful warmth from the strap and, to her horror and confusion, from some other urge: the fingers of her right hand were covering her pussy, brushing against the curly red hair that her master had said he would take away, and the thought made her gush there. Her face flamed with mortification as that sensation caused some kind of terrible chain reaction, and her other hand clutched at her bottom, reawakening the pain from the strap but also sending an aftershock from the humiliating climax she hadn’t had the power, it seemed, to stop her body from experiencing.

  Her hips bucked helplessly, as she looked up at Judy, standing over Sally’s backside with the strap raised as if she might bring it down on Sally’s hands. She gave a little cry of fear, but still she couldn’t seem to move her hands.

  Vic’s strong hands held her knees open wide, so that she felt completely helpless to keep herself covered even with her hands there. When she had spread her legs like this and put her finger in her anus while her boyfriend had taken pictures, she had felt like a dirty girl, yes—but not as much as she felt like one now, when a woman in a white coat had told a man in a suit to open her pussy and bottom for a dirty girl’s reward.

  Then she let out another yelp, as her unseen master gave her a little shock with the device at her throat. To her mortification, her whole body responded to the little jolt, especially the part of her between her waist and her knees.

  “Sir...” she found herself saying, remembering without even thinking about it that Master Eric had told her she must call him that. “Sir, no, please...”

  Another shock, just the tiniest bit more intense than the last one, as if he meant her to understand that he would go on raising the level of pain he inflicted until she obeyed. Sally pulled her hands away and clutched the sides of the massage table again. She didn’t know if she had found the will to follow Judy’s command because of the pain at her neck or because of the way each shock seemed to attune her traitorous pussy to the awful collar.

  “Good girl,” Judy said, but she spoke the strangely pleasant words even as she brought the stiff pink strap down across the tops of Sally’s thighs, so that some of its slapping force was delivered to her tender pussy lips.

  Sally screamed, writhing in Vic’s hands, her bottom squirming lewdly with the agony of the strap’s fiery discipline.

  “Let’s keep her still,” she said to Vic, putting her own left hand across the middle of Sally’s thighs. “Don’t let her hurt herself.”

  “Oh, God... please, ma’am. Please, sir,” Judy whimpered. “My bottom... it hurts...”

  “Of course it hurts, Sally,” Judy said, looking down at her coldly over the shoulder of the white coat. “Your master wants you to understand that panties are a privilege for you, now. If you wear them without permission, your bottom will pay the price.”

  She raised the strap and brought it down hard, yet another sharp crack echoing from the innocent-seeming walls of the fake day spa. Sally cried out, and tried involuntarily but of course also in vain to squirm from the iron grasp of Vic on her knees.

  What did it mean, all the things Judy had said about a new life and now?

  Panties are a privilege for me, now.

  I have a master, now.

  My master trains me, now. He punishes me when I wear panties without permission.

  She watched the blonde woman’s attention move back to the young backside on display, at her mercy, beneath her hand and her strap. Held open for her punishment, Sally couldn’t help thinking of her own body that way
: the young backside undergoing the kind of discipline a dirty girl gets for disobedience.

  The strap rose, and Sally cried out in fear at how high Judy held it, at how fast she brought it down. She struggled against the hands that held her in place on the table, but the leather cracked across her bottom anyway, teaching her to respect the wishes of her unseen master for her naked body.

  The line of fire across Sally’s backside grew in heat until she sobbed, and then at last began to fade, leaving the dull ache that had in it the seeds of something worse. It had all happened so fast, when Judy started to whip her, but the huge wave of pleasure that had overwhelmed Sally, when Vic had first put her on the table and then bent her legs, had made her terribly afraid of her own body, now that it seemed her punishment had concluded.

  “Sally,” Judy said, making the young governor realize she had closed her eyes as the final lash had come down. She opened them now to see the white-coated woman had moved up the table to stand over Sally’s midsection. At the same time, she felt Judy’s right hand, the strap no longer in it, start to rub her bottom gently, drawing a little whimper from her chest.

  “Yes?” Sally replied, and then, at an eyebrow raised in warning. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Your master has decided you should be fucked, now, before I wax you. Vic is going to fuck you. He has your master’s permission to use your mouth and your pussy.”

  Sally tried so hard to keep the moan from coming out. She took her lower lip in her teeth and she bit hard. She felt her forehead crease in concentration. Nevertheless, the low sound that emerged from her chest told the opposite tale to the one she wanted to tell.

  “You... can’t,” she said. She raised her chin and managed to get Vic’s face in her field of vision. Even upside down, his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones made her think that looking at him might have been a mistake. “No. I... I don’t...”

  Vic smiled, and he squeezed the backs of her knees gently. He spoke for the first time.

  “Yes, Sally,” he said in a voice lightly accented with Spanish. “Yes, you do.”

  “Please,” Sally whispered. “Please... sir... ma’am...” Her brain seemed to have let go of any power it had once had to think things through. Somewhere in her mind the thought floated that this all had to do with that fortified compound on St. Hillary Island, but that concept couldn’t seem to find anywhere it might gain traction. Instead, Judy’s hand claimed Sally’s attention, as it moved inward, brushed the hair that she had promised to remove, in order to leave Sally bare down there... the way Master Eric wanted her...

  He... Master... he decided...

  “Oh, no.” The words hardly made a sound, as Judy’s fingers touched the place that ached the most, the neglected placed at the top, the little bud with its complicated hood. Sally arched her back because she couldn’t help it, tried to drive her hips upward to get more of the sensation it seemed the older woman had great skill at conveying. “No... ma’am... no, please.”

  “Shh, Sally,” Judy murmured. “Shh. Your master will decide, from now on. You don’t have to worry about making hard choices anymore. You’re just a dirty girl who can be a good girl when she tries, and an even better one when she’s properly trained.”

  Sally looked up into the blonde woman’s face, and the expression there made her look down, between her thighs where she hadn’t dared to look before. She saw another woman’s hand, rubbing in gentle circles around her clit. She saw how Judy’s fingers shone with Sally’s own naughtiness, her bad-girl need.

  You’re a governor. You’re a powerful young woman, not a girl of any kind, let alone a bad girl or a dirty girl. That voice, so soft, in a distant corner of her mind, brought a gentle response, now: a powerful young woman can choose to give up her power, can’t she?

  She closed her eyes, feeling her face scrunch into a mask of pouting arousal. Judy’s hand left her, and she whimpered at the deprivation. She felt the woman’s hands on the backs of her knees, felt Vic let go and opened her eyes again to see Judy stepping around the table on one side and Vic on the other, the two of them reversing their positions.

  The enormous copper-skinned man had his jacket and tie off, and he had started to unbutton his shirt before he had reached the other end of the table. Sally struggled against Judy’s restraining hands for a moment, but the collar reminded her with a little shock that her master had the means to make her obey.

  Vic shrugged the white Oxford shirt from his shoulders, and Sally couldn’t contain a little gasp at the sight of his deep, muscular chest with its dark hair. He smiled as he reached down to unbuckle his belt.

  This isn’t actually happening, is it? Sally asked herself desperately. She had had sex with one boyfriend before Joe, and with no one after him. She had dated the first boyfriend for six months before they had sex, and Joe for two months. She had had sex, before the night of the pictures, in the missionary position and twice with herself on top. She hadn’t even really liked it very much—she didn’t count the night of the pictures because she had been high, she had made bad decisions, and the fact that it had felt good at the time almost made the whole thing worse.

  Vic’s big hands had the belt undone, had his dark suit pants unbuttoned, had unzipped his fly.

  “Oh, no,” Sally murmured. “Oh, no.”

  “Remember that Vic is going to fuck your pussy and your mouth because your master wishes it,” Judy said. “Your master is saving your anus for his own cock.”

  Sally swallowed so hard it hurt. She couldn’t take her eyes from the sight of Vic lowering his pants and his black briefs in a single motion to reveal the biggest penis she had ever seen, long and hard and pointing straight at her pussy. Sally hadn’t seen many penises, certainly—despite, okay, occasionally sneaking a peek at porn if it popped up on one of the newer TV shows, or a brave friend was watching. She hadn’t ever gotten a good look at her first boyfriend’s, and Joe’s, which she had almost-but-not-quite taken in her mouth the night of the pictures, had been kind of medium-sized.

  Vic’s manhood, though, seemed nearly as long as Sally’s forearm. He held it in his right hand, pumping it gently and looking down at her red-furred pussy as Sally’s eyes went from his face to his hard cock, each glance making the ambivalence in her heart and her body and her mind more complex.

  “Please,” she said, raising her eyes to see Judy looking down at her as the woman in the white coat held her knees up and back.

  “Let’s turn her over,” Judy said. “Her master wants her to get it from behind, the way a dirty girl should.”

  “Oh... no... I...” Sally whispered, but Vic had already let go of his enormous penis so that he could help Judy carry out the instruction. She gave a startled cry at the sheer swiftness with which they picked her naked body up and repositioned her on her knees, then bent her over until her face rested against the padded table and her whipped bottom confronted Vic’s now-unseen hardness.

  Never. She had never... even that night, when she thought she probably had wanted to try it because she had smoked weed. Powerful young women didn’t, though. Not from behind. Not on their knees and prostrate, the same way Master Eric had made her display herself the previous night. Sally’s face blazed as hot as the sun at the raising of her bottom, the parting of her knees to show the man behind her the tender pink slit where she knew he wanted to put his hard manhood and to move it and out until he had enjoyed himself as he liked.

  “Now, Sally,” Judy said in a much gentler tone, stroking the young governor’s cheek with the backs of her knuckles, “it’s time to ask for your fucking.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Rub the pussy with the head of your cock, Vic,” Eric said into his headset. “Take her to the edge and make her beg.”

  Sally Donaldson presented so enchanting a prospect, placed on her face with her pink bottom raised and presented to the big nymphobus, that Eric wished he had a porn-style close-up of the moment Vic touched the head of his rigid penis to her clit, before settling it g
ently a little higher up, where it would enter her once she gave voice to her neediness. The setup of such porn shots, of course, took away from the wealth of sensation real people should feel when having sex—so Eric didn’t much regret having to imagine the lewd sight of a massive cock nestled in Sally’s still furry pussy, ready to fuck. He would much rather know that the young governor felt the whole massive bulk of the man who would use her pussy looming behind her, his hands gripping her hips and his hairy, tree-trunk thighs lightly against her punished backside.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, as Judy stroked her face. Eric did have a nice view of Sally’s eyes, on split screen now with the overhead of Vic as he began to acquaint her with his huge manhood. As her hips bucked, helplessly raising her bottom still further to invite his possession of her pussy, she closed the sweet blue orbs tightly, then opened them again. The 10 in the corner of Eric’s screen flashed again, and the pre-orgasm warning appeared.

  “You know you need this,” Judy said softly. “It’s hard for a young woman who has such an important job, especially when really you just want to be the kind of girl who takes a big cock when her master decides she should.”

  “But...” The word trailed into a little whimper.

  Eric issued another instruction. “Press the head against the anus, very gently,” he told Vic.

  On the overhead view, he could see Vic adjust his stance slightly and move his right hand from Sally’s hip to reposition his hardness. The dramatic contrast between his copper skin and her peaches-and-cream, with the hot pink shade the strap had left on her bottom, made Eric’s own cock leap in his jeans.

  “Oh,” Sally said, closing her eyes again. “Oh... please...”

  That please, Eric knew, meant many things. Please don’t make me—but also, please make me. Please, not in my little bottom, but also, please, in my little bottom, where I just learned my master likes to fuck dirty girls.