by Emily Tilton
Now Emma looked up sharply, her eyes going wide. Molly nodded. “I was just like you, not much more than a year ago, Emma. Now… well, now I’m very happy.”
“Did you get in trouble?” Suddenly, even though it still seemed shameful and even though she still would have run away if Molly had opened the cage for her, to be naked with a another girl felt more like it had before, right when Molly took off her nightgown and Emma had given a little gasp and felt the funny feeling down there.
Molly shook her head. “I would have, I’m sure.” She hesitated, then continued, “What happened with the professor, Emma? Don’t tell me if you feel like you can’t, but I think it will make you feel better. Master will be home soon, and…”
To Emma’s surprise, a nervous look came into Molly’s eyes at that point. She swallowed hard before going on.
“…well, if you tell me, and you’re feeling better, I might not be in so much trouble.”
Emma shook her head in confusion. “But…”
“Oh,” Molly said with a little giggle that Emma didn’t think suited any idea of trouble she knew. “I don’t mean that kind of trouble—I mean with Master, because I put you in the cage.”
But that only increased Emma’s confusion. Molly hadn’t put her in the cage; Emma had, for reasons she couldn’t figure out, taken her clothes off. Molly had suggested Emma try the cage, but put definitely didn’t seem the right word for it.
“I mean,” Molly went on, “well, you think you did it yourself, but… oh, it’s so complicated, and I’m going to get my butt paddled even worse if I say anything.”
“What?” The word came out in less than a whisper. Surely Molly hadn’t just said what it had sounded like to Emma. She hadn’t just said paddled.
Molly’s face crumpled into a sympathetic expression. “Oh, God. I know. I… if I tell you—I mean, about my paddle—will you tell me about the professor so that I can tell Master that I made you feel better?”
Her paddle? Oh, no. Please. Emma couldn’t look at her anymore. But she suddenly needed to know about Molly’s paddle more than she had ever needed anything before in her life.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Molly gave her a bright little smile. “I’ll be right back,” she said in a happy voice as she got up and left the room before Emma had a chance to react.
Emma looked at the latch, wondering for some reason whether it would open now that Molly had left. She lifted her hand again and reached toward the bars, but something stopped her. She remembered again how it had felt when the door had closed, and the latch had clicked. Molly had said that the cage was for her, which meant that she would sit in it just as Emma sat in it now, with the soft, fleecy pink blanket, while her master worked in the den. Emma didn’t have a sir or a master or a Daniel, but she could feel somehow what it must be like to curl up in your cage while your master worked.
A little sob came from her throat then, and she lowered her hand. Just then Molly came tripping back into the room, making Emma fully conscious again of her pretty new friend’s nakedness and of her own. She took a little gasping breath through her nose, and she felt the shameful warmth down below her tummy once again.
That feeling only got worse—much worse—when Molly sat crisscross applesauce in front of the cage and showed Emma what she had brought, even as Emma could see Molly’s vagina despite telling herself that she must look away. Emma didn’t know which made her feel stranger, or made her blush harder: the paddle or the little pink vagina with no hair to cover it.
“This is my paddle,” Molly said. “Master ordered it, but I had to stitch my name on it myself.”
Emma swallowed hard, and her breath came in short pants. The paddle had a wooden handle and an oval-shaped leather face made of several layers stitched together. Molly was embroidered in a neat script made of blue leather.
“You did that yourself?” Emma asked, impressed and finding it hard to think of anything else to say that wouldn’t betray how badly she wanted to know what the paddle got used for in Daniel’s house.
Molly nodded proudly. Then her mouth twitched to the side. “It hurts a lot. More than Master’s belt.”
Emma whimpered. “Does he… does he really?”
Molly nodded again. “I’m a brat sometimes,” she said simply. “Brats need to learn a lesson.”
The words came out of Emma in a rush, then, and as she spoke them she realized that it did feel better to say them. “I got drunk and took my clothes off in the men’s room at the faculty club because Professor Gage was in there and I wanted him to…” A sob rose in her throat, but somehow it felt like a sob of relief. “I wanted him to be my master.”
The sound of the back door opening came into the den. “Little one?” called a masculine voice. The very sound made Emma feel the flying feeling again. Was this what it was like, for Molly, all the time?
“In the den, Master,” Molly called back.
Footsteps. Emma could see the doorway of the den from the cage, and suddenly a tall figure in a beautiful suit appeared there. Daniel looked right at her. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Hello, Emma,” he said gently. “I’m very glad to see you.”
Chapter Six
Daniel had not had two young ladies under his protection for several hundred years. Nor did he intend the situation to last long; it simply attracted too much attention in this day and age. In the time of household servants, it had been easy enough to keep a mistress and several maids, but no longer.
More important, the benefits of monogamy had become clear to him in the time of the Roman emperors. Though during libertine periods, when he had not felt for any woman the sort of love he felt for Molly, he had indulged in polygamy, more frequently he had protected a single young lady at a time. Their time of their youthful flowering was so short, and the project of finding them suitable occupations after Daniel bid them farewell so diverting, that what looked to the world like a happy May-September coupling suited his desires very well indeed.
Nevertheless, Daniel had no objection to taking young Emma’s virginity, since Molly had such a crush on the pretty eighteen-year-old. The prospect of several weeks at least of delights à trois had put a spring in his step as he entered the house. He did indeed feel very glad to see Emma Woodbine naked in Molly’s cage, with naked Molly sitting next to her, holding the paddle with which Daniel did plan to punish her in very short order.
He reached out and soothed her a little, reflecting—for very far from the first time—that his telepathic gift really represented no more than an extension of his dominant personality. Indeed, Daniel had never felt entirely sure that his ability to sense people’s—above all young women’s—needs and fears, and to lay them to rest with his mere appearance coupled with the sound of his voice, hadn’t just arisen in his experience of society over long, long years. When he ‘turned it off’ as he had thought of it since the dawn of electricity, perhaps he simply projected less attraction to the person, allowing them to escape for the moment the persuasive force that came naturally to a man who had lived so long.
Daniel strongly suspected, though, that the same supernatural providence that had inexplicably made him apparently immortal had given him a form of telepathy that could enter others’ minds, in addition to the obvious form that allowed him to control physical objects. Indeed, he could temporarily impart both these powers to his young ladies by training and enjoying them, and above all sharing his seed with them. He couldn’t wait, he had to admit to himself, to give the power to Emma, as she swallowed his semen for the first time.
Daniel couldn’t get a girl pregnant—he had known the fact since the human species first fully realized the connection between sex and pregnancy, by which time he had fucked several thousand young women. Instead, with his semen, he gave his gift of special power, which a young lady would never be able to wield without learning her lessons and experiencing the submissive pleasure of serving Daniel’s lust.
Now, to begin that traini
ng, he made sure Emma understood that he regarded her presence in his cage as a wonderful thing. He knew that as she looked into his eyes she would see his full acceptance of her need to submit, and she would sense the way his body cried out to master hers, along with the restraint he could exercise over his desires. She would know that if she chose, when he released her from the cage, to walk away, he would not stop her.
Emma would understand, with the help of this little bit of soothing that took away some of the terrible conflict of her shame, that by taking off her clothes and then following Molly’s suggestion that she crawl into the cage, she had arrived in the best possible place for a girl with her needs. The world might call those needs shameful, but Daniel never would. Daniel understood that some girls need spanking, need to be made to suck a masterful man’s cock, need to be deflowered with their faces to the bedclothes and their bottoms high.
She would understand, on an even less conscious level, that because she had ended up naked in his cage, the same way Molly had done not so long ago at the beginning of her own time with Daniel, that she didn’t have to confess anything or ask for anything. From now on, she could give her consent with her mind and with the warmth and wetness between her thighs. Someday soon Emma would beg for Daniel’s hardness in her mouth, her vagina, her anus, just as her new friend Molly had. By then, however, she would have grown in her submission so far that her very blushes would feel pleasant to her because she knew how much they pleased her master.
He advanced until he stood over the cage, looking down at Emma, who looked up at him with wide eyes, so much like an obedient, dependent little animal that it made Daniel’s heart glow. “How did you get into Molly’s cage, little one?” he asked gently.
He glanced over at Molly, who lifted her eyes from the paddle for just a moment with a plea for forgiveness. Daniel certainly felt in a forgiving mood at the moment, though Molly definitely had a paddling coming. He gave his lovely, mostly well-trained elder pet a knowing smile that made her lower her eyes again, and returned his attention to her young friend behind the thin silver bars.
“I… I…”
Daniel sensed her shame coming back, more strongly, and saw the pink start to bloom in her cheeks. He soothed it away effortlessly by stooping a little with his hands on his knees, and giving her a gentle smile.
Emma smiled back, and the warmth in Daniel’s blood started to grow in sympathy with the arousal he could sense in her. His new pet had grown wet between her legs at his presence and his voice, which would have shamed her even further if Daniel hadn’t known exactly how to handle this moment.
“Take your time, girl,” he said softly. The slight degradation of girl would work wonders on her psyche and her libido. Emma would move just a bit further along in the process of seeing herself as a man’s possession. The thought, Daniel knew, had always held a terrible, dark fascination for her, and shame had always made her mind recoil from it. Now for the first time she had begun to find in it the devastating pleasure he would bring. Her smile widened a little. “Good girl,” Daniel said in the same soothing voice.
Emma drew a long, almost gasping breath and her smile changed to one of the most fetching pouts of sexual need Daniel thought he had ever seen. The power of that phrase, good girl, had persisted in every language Daniel had ever spoken: when uttered along with his power to soothe away fear and shame, good girl represented a kind of panacea for a young lady’s anxieties.
“I took off my clothes,” she said in a rush, her brow creasing as if to beg him to forgive her mortifying actions, “and Molly said I could, so I did, and I don’t know why but… but… please…”
Daniel crooked up the left side of his smile, knowing precisely the effect it would have. Emma was hesitating on the edge between please let me go and please don’t make me go without even realizing it. With his smile, Daniel decided the matter in the direction she herself didn’t foresee.
“Please let me stay, Sir.” He watched her hear herself, watched her eyes widen in surprise at the words she had not known would emerge, out of the darkness of her repression, watched the fear develop, then soothed it away.
“You may certainly stay, little one,” he said, and her face lit up. “You’ll have a nice long time in the cage before it’s time for more.” He looked over at Molly, whose cheeks had gone pink; he felt her remembering her own first time. With Molly’s help, he would make Emma’s first time even more special.
“More?” Emma whispered.
Experimentally, to gauge Emma’s progress, he relaxed some of his grip on her feelings, putting into his voice a promise of mastery.
“You’ll see, little one. I’ll show you, with your friend Molly here.”
Emma made a tiny, puppy-like whimper in her throat. “Do I have to watch?”
Molly had lifted her eyes again, and looked from Emma to Daniel. When she had her first evening in the cage she hadn’t had the chance to watch anyone else; she had simply had Daniel telling her in a low voice exactly what her training would be like—about his cock, about his belt, about her paddle, about the bottom harness.
Daniel gave Molly a little nod. He knew she would respond in exactly the right way, for she had crouched in just the same position in which Emma now found herself. Molly understood, for at this range she could sense almost as keenly as Daniel could, that without knowing it Emma wanted to hear not that she was free but that she had fallen into the power of a man who would for her own good take her freedom away.
“Yes, Emma,” Molly said. “You have to watch.”
Emma bit her lip and gave a tiny shake of her head that Daniel knew was directed much more toward assuaging her shame than at Molly.
“When are you expected home, Emma?” he asked.
She looked up at him, a puzzled expression on her face. It seemed to take her several seconds to understand the question. “Five o’clock?” she said, frowning.
“You’ll call home and tell your parents that you’re staying over with Molly. Tomorrow you’ll call to tell them you got a job, and you’ve decided to rent a little apartment in town.”
Emma frowned as she absorbed this new information. Daniel sensed her coming to terms with the implications: she would have to make the call and say what he had told her to say—he and Molly wouldn’t do it on her behalf. He felt her grasp the full meaning—that she must in that way give her consent, then retreat from it; her eyes went wide again.
“What will you do if I don’t?” she whispered.
The moment held terrible importance, and if Daniel had not had the immortal skill he possessed, Emma Woodbine would almost certainly never have managed to discover the joy of submission. She would probably go on to a life very much like her mother’s, repressing both the incident that had blighted her educational future and this strange day at the neighbors’ house. She would pretend to enjoy sex with her husband for a year or two, wondering whether she were missing something, and then she would settle down into the less-than-exalted-but-probably-comfortable station to which it had pleased providence to call her.
“If you don’t do as I say, Emma, you’ll go over my knee for a bare-bottom spanking. After that, I’ll let you go home.”
Her jaw dropped, and Daniel felt her grasp the terrible paradox into which he had so skillfully placed her. A spanking—the shameful thing at the very heart of her unacknowledged fantasies—would be the only consequence of refusing her consent to watch Molly get paddled and then undergo what came after a paddling. Emma didn’t know of course what happened after a paddling in Daniel’s house, but even without his empathetic senses Daniel could have said with certainty that the girl knew that if she stayed she would soon watch her new friend have sex, while she herself remained safe in her master’s cage.
And Emma knew, of course, that if she stayed she would be spanked anyway—how could she not? But the logic of Daniel’s words ran in an entirely different direction, because of her desires and her inability to admit them. Girls shouldn’t want spanking
s from older men. What would her mother say?
She chewed on her cheek, her brow very troubled. Her eyes went from Daniel to Molly, then back again. “Please don’t spank me,” she whispered. “I’ll… I’ll watch.”
Chapter Seven
Molly felt her love for Daniel blaze up even as the butterflies filled her tummy. He turned to her. “Bring the ottoman, little one, and put it in front of the cage,” he said, a little sternness coming into his voice and sending a thrill down below. “I’ll paddle you now.”
“Oh, don’t,” Emma sighed, but in her voice Molly heard the same longing she knew would be audible in hers, if the prospect of seeing her friend paddled lay ahead. “Why…? S-sir? Why must Molly be punished?”
The delicious play of sympathy and desire that Molly could hear in the words seemed to make Emma sound like she had fallen under an enchantment. Molly knew the feeling so well: Daniel had cast his spell on her, and the world would be different for Emma now. Molly couldn’t help feeling a little glow of pride. She didn’t mind sharing Daniel, really, as long as she got to serve him, too. Being spanked in front of another girl felt embarrassing, true, but Emma would surely receive her own paddling soon, wouldn’t she, while Molly watched from the cage?
Molly got up as Daniel answered the question. He put his hand out, and she placed the paddle in his grasp, her heart quailing at the sight of it there, ready to give her what she had coming. She walked over to where the brown leather ottoman, perfectly sized to lay a young woman over for punishment and sex, stood in front of Daniel’s reading chair.
“Molly used a special power I gave her to help you decide to take your clothes off and get into the cage. Then I think she probably used another one to keep the cage closed, after you started to get frightened.”
As Molly picked up the ottoman, which was a little awkward to carry but not very heavy, she gave a little sob. What choice had she had? If Emma had gotten out of the cage before Daniel came home, who knows what would have happened?