by Emily Tilton
She struggled, but her master held her very firmly, and he spanked her hard, as she yelped, ten times, twenty times, right, then left, then in the middle where she could feel it as a punishment of her naughty pussy, too. She couldn’t bear it—but now she belonged to a man who spanked her, to teach her a lesson about what she needed, and she had to bear it.
“I… I… took off my clothes,” she cried, and the spanking stopped abruptly. Emma went on in a rush, then, desperate to keep feeling the acceptance and the lust she sensed in her master and her fellow house girl. “In the men’s room, in the faculty club, when… when he… when Professor Gage was in there, and I knelt down, and…”
The flood of her words ceased. Daniel said in a warm, congratulatory voice, “Molly, why don’t you give your new friend a reward? Go ahead and kiss this poor little pussy.”
“Oh, no, please…” Emma pleaded. How could she? How could Molly? She felt Molly’s hesitation, the remnants of Molly’s shame, and she understood exactly what Daniel had meant, her eyes opening as they looked only at the red comforter while her new senses felt so much more: she, Emma, could take away that shame, if she wanted, but the shame felt delicious. It echoed Emma’s own shame, and together the two shames made the two pussies warm and wet because of the wicked thing their master had commanded.
Molly said, in a voice that sounded just like Emma’s, “Oh, no, please.” Emma heard in the other girl’s voice something she hadn’t realized had lain in her own: the need—the need for training, for being taught a lesson in submission, for being a good pet who did as Master told her.
“Come here, Molly, and kiss this pussy. This is what you wanted.”
“B-but… but I’ve never…”
Even as Molly protested, though, Emma could feel her start to obey. She couldn’t help turning her face to look, so startling did she find it to know that Molly had started to move though neither sight nor sound had told her the fact. She gasped when she saw the look on Molly’s face as she stepped forward to where Daniel still held Emma’s naked waist: creased brow, pink cheeks, wide eyes.
“No,” Daniel said, “you’ve never kissed another girl even on her mouth, have you? And now you must kiss Emma’s wet little pussy and get it ready for me.”
Molly and Emma made the same little strangled puppy sound then, and after that Emma cried out because Daniel had placed his hand firmly on the back of Molly’s head and pressed her little face into Emma’s bottom. Molly kissed. Molly licked. Up and down, up and down, and then… right there, where a girl who masturbates knows her tongue can make another girl cry out, and struggle against her master’s controlling grip, until she explodes with pleasure.
She felt Daniel’s hands releasing her waist, with a caress that her new senses told her Molly had also received. “Keep going, Molly,” he said, and then he moved a little further around to the side of the bed, and for the first time Emma became fully conscious that he, too was naked.
“Look at my cock, little one,” he said very sternly, as if he knew how hard it would be to obey him, and how the shame would come upon her again.
She had looked down there, at his penis, before in the den. She hadn’t been able to help it, but she had also looked away so quickly that her only impression of the first erection she had ever seen was of its authority, because of how Daniel had held it as he had prepared to enter Molly’s bottom. Now he held it again, in that same arrogant way, and Emma noticed its length and its strange contours: the head and the little slit. The thrill of shame that went through her almost took away the lovely lingering pleasure, but she felt him soothe her even as Molly kissed and licked her gently where the hard penis would soon go, and she understood that, yes, her body was made for fucking.
Emma would have to suck that cock, she knew. She would have to have it in her anus, where it would hurt. Daniel would train her with it, just as he had trained Molly. First, though, she would have it where she needed it the most.
“Are you ready to have my cock inside you, little one?”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
Chapter Twelve
John Gage, PhD, pulled up outside the address the college registrar had given him for Emma Woodbine at four in the afternoon, exactly a month after the incident at the faculty club. He had given himself that long to see whether his feelings and lingering thoughts about her continued along the same paths they had taken after her withdrawal from college. Even more important, he had felt he needed some distance in space and time before he could decide whether he thought he could do anything to help her—or himself—by seeking her out at home.
It took him all of five minutes in conversation with Emma’s mother to understand how the pretty undergraduate could be so terribly repressed that a few drinks would turn her into an obedient submissive, naked for her professor’s taking in a men’s room. Having had a couple himself that night, it had taken every ounce of his remaining willpower not to lead her into a stall and teach her a new kind of lesson (though one that of course lay within his field of anthropology). But care for his sub—the bedrock of John’s dominant sex life—had prevailed, and he had tried to ensure that Emma’s terrible indiscretion would go unnoticed. The entry of the dean had put an end to that.
“She’s got an apartment in town now,” Mrs. Woodbine said, with an expression on her face that made her look like John had just made her suck a lemon. “I’m sure she’s bothered you enough, Professor—I wouldn’t feel like you owe her anything.”
Mrs. Woodbine had invited him in for a cup of coffee, which John didn’t feel he could pass up because he wanted as much information as he could get. The encounter, however, began terribly awkwardly and only became more so, as well as crushingly depressing, as Mrs. Woodbine’s own middle-aged repression made her play the coquette with him. He could tell that she didn’t know exactly what had happened at college, but that she suspected it had a sexual nature, and in her confusion of pressed-back erotic impulses she felt herself to be in competition with her daughter for the handsome professor’s favors.
John knew providence had given him good looks, and knew also that in combination with a professor’s authority they could prove a dangerous combination. Emma had not been the first student to take her clothes off for him without so much as a by-your-leave on John’s part, though she had been the first to do so in a men’s room. As an ethical man, he had never taken advantage of any of the undergraduates who had offered themselves for domination in one way or another, clothes off or on.
No other girl had withdrawn from school, though, because of him. And, frankly, no other girl had taken his fancy the way Emma had from the first day of Anthropology 1000.
“Are you sure you don’t want to see Emma’s room?” Mrs. Woodbine asked, as her last desperate gambit. John found that he did very much want to see Emma’s room, but though her mother’s flirtations hadn’t crossed any truly embarrassing line yet, he thought they might well do so if a bed were nearby.
The worst part was that Mrs. Woodbine wasn’t unattractive, and he actually found himself rather aroused by her, since enough of Emma’s beauty seemed to have come from her mother, and to persist even now. John enjoyed playing with older women from time to time, especially because they tended to be able to own their submissive desires in a way that younger girls generally didn’t. But Mrs. Woodbine clearly wasn’t ready for that, and John had come because he had decided that he wanted to see if her daughter needed his help either with her education or with her emotional—and, yes, her romantic, submissive, sexual—development.
“You really don’t have an address for Emma?” he asked, managing pretty well, he thought, to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Well, you could ask the girl across the street,” Mrs. Woodbine said in a grudging tone. “They’re the ones who helped her find the place, I think. A few days after Emma came home, she met that Molly girl—they’re both very strange, that Daniel, too, even if he drives a Jag-yoo-ar.” She pronounced the automotive b
rand in a way that suggested that anyone who owned a sports car should be ashamed of himself. “And he’s much too old for her—you know that, as a professor, don’t you, Dr. Gage?” She seemed to make a final attempt at a twinkle, and John couldn’t help feeling a bit grateful—Mrs. Woodbine could easily have gone the other way, he felt sure, and have accused him of pursuing Emma in order to seduce her.
Nor would Emma’s mother have missed the truth by very much, though John preferred to think of his aim in nobler terms. His heart rate had grown a little elevated by the time he rang the doorbell of the significantly nicer house across the street.
Emma answered the door.
John felt his eyebrows look for the sky. “Emma?”
He had recognized her immediately, of course, and he had no doubt now that the lovely young woman in front of him, albeit in a very short nightgown that nearly took John’s breath away, was Emma Woodbine. But she seemed at the same time also an utterly different girl from the one who had knelt naked in the men’s room. Even worse—for John couldn’t help thinking immediately of the incredible danger in which his heart now stood, given that what he saw in Emma’s face must mean that she had yielded up her submission to another man—he could see that her repression had simply vanished as if it had never afflicted her.
“Professor Gage,” she said without the slightest hint of doubt or of surprise to see him. John had the absurd notion for a moment that Emma must have been expecting him, so assured was the bright, heart-melting little smile she gave him as she looked up from out of the doorway of what John supposed must be her new home, given her state of undress.
“Your mother…” John paused, because Emma had made an angry face, just for a moment. “I guess you and she don’t see eye to eye?”
“No,” Emma said. Then, as if she really wanted John to understand, she went on, “I’m trying to get past it, and even to go and visit her… you know, because she’s just across the street, and Daniel says I should be able to control my emotions when I talk to her, but…”
She clearly saw a confused and even slightly irate look in John’s eyes, because she gave him another smile, a bigger one this time, and said, “Daniel is my master now.”
John drew a sharp breath at that—he couldn’t help it, nor could he help the little leap of his cock at the way Emma had said master. John’s own desire to master Emma, which he had felt long before she’d disrobed for him unbidden, came rushing upon him, along with envy of this Daniel, who drove a Jaguar and, it seemed, played master to two young women.
“Little one,” came a deep voice from inside the house, “you may invite the professor in if you like. I think that would be a good idea.” The voice acquired a person: a tall, middle-aged man who seemed perhaps ten years older than John but whose face somehow bore an aspect of even greater wisdom than a forty-five-year-old would normally possess. He smiled at John with an air so assured that John immediately felt envy not only for his possessions—the girls included, of course—but for his obvious ownership of his status as an alpha male.
“Professor Gage, I presume,” the man said. “I’m Daniel Magus.” He extended his hand, and John shook it, the matching firmness of both providing a certain satisfaction. Daniel clearly didn’t have any more of a need than John did to prove his masculinity by crushing another man’s hand, but the simple gesture conveyed a mutual belief in the importance of a man’s firm hand.
“Call me John, please.” He glanced at Emma: a pinkness had come into her cheeks. Her repression had gone, but the sweet blushes, John saw with pleasure, remained.
Daniel said to her very meaningfully, “Don’t you call him by his first name, little one.”
Emma bit her lip. John felt another thrill of envious arousal at the trouble that had come into her green eyes. “No, Sir,” she said. Then, “Would you like to come in, Professor?”
John had his doubts that entering Daniel Magus’ house would prove a good idea, where his peace of mind was concerned. He felt himself so thoroughly under the compulsion of his desire, though, that as painful as it might be to see another man’s complete happiness in his dominance, he knew he couldn’t refuse.
“Yes, thank you,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure you’re alright, really, and if there’s anything I can do to help you get back into Reynolds or some other college.”
Emma looked up at Daniel, who stood half an inch taller than John, John noticed now with a little annoyance that he quickly quelled. Daniel looked back rather gravely, and Emma turned to John. “Daniel says I should definitely go back, but I don’t think I can go back to Reynolds,” she said quietly.
Looking into her green eyes, John suddenly had the feeling, though he didn’t know from where it came, that all hope hadn’t been lost for his own firm hand, applied at some point to Emma Woodbine’s sweet, scantily clad young body.
Daniel reached out then, and put his hand on John’s shoulder in a friendly way, drawing him across the threshold and saying at the same time, “I’m sure you can help a great deal, John. Emma, why don’t you introduce John to Molly. I’ll get a snack together, and you can give it to Molly where she is.”
This turn of phrase confused John, especially since it made Emma’s blush return. “But, Sir…” she began.
“Little one, we both know you want to, and it will certain help John understand our situation here. John, Molly is having a little lesson right now because she broke a rule.”
“Sir, please,” Emma said, her face now practically scarlet.
“Don’t worry, Emma, I won’t tell him which rule.”
Emma drew a relieved breath.
“You and Molly will tell him.”
“Sir!”
John witnessed this exchange with bemusement bordering on bewilderment. Where was Molly? What kind of lesson? What kind of situation prevailed in Daniel Magus’ house, and why did John have a prickly feeling on the back of his neck that seemed to indicate something even more unusual than dominant-and-submissive debauchery took place there?
“Mind me, little one, or you know what will happen,” Daniel said simply. Then he smiled, turned and walked down the hall in the direction of the kitchen whose gleaming refrigerator John could make out now that he stood inside.
He had to know. He spoke in a lightly dominant, playful tone. “What will happen, Emma?”
Emma’s brow crinkled, then her mouth twitched adorably to the side. She clearly didn’t want to tell him. “It’s so embarrassing!” she protested.
But John was feeling more confident of his position, as strange as it might be, by the minute. Daniel had given Emma the option of inviting him in, and she had taken it. Now he had left John alone with Emma, to learn of the situation in the house. Surely he had some kind of a chance.
“What would your master say if I told him you refused to tell me?” he asked slyly.
Emma compressed her lips into a tight little line. Then she said very quietly, “I get paddled on the bare.”
John had to clear his throat, and his cock had grown very hard in his jeans. “Paddled,” he said, in a voice he thought admirably clear under the circumstances.
Emma had turned her eyes downward as she admitted that her life included such lessons, but now she raised them to meet John’s. “Molly does too! More often than I do!”
Again his desire took control. “Should I have paddled you for what you did at the faculty club?”
Emma only nodded, and now John became almost uncomfortably aware of just how short the lacy white nightgown was. Did Emma even have panties on underneath? He had to quell the urge to reach out and lift the hem to see, then to order her over his knee for the punishment he should have given a month ago.
Suddenly the strangeness of the situation, and above all of the transformation in Emma, struck him much more forcefully than it had before.
“Emma, I have to admit I don’t understand what’s going on here. Are you happy?”
Silence fell then, as she looked up at him. Should
he go, after all, and leave her to her new life?
But after their eyes had lingered on one another’s for a long moment, she said, “Come meet Molly. That will help you understand.”
Chapter Thirteen
Molly sat curled up in the cage in the den. She had been able to hear most of Emma’s conversation with Professor Gage, and what she hadn’t heard because they spoke too softly she sensed especially from Emma because of the close bond that now existed between them. She could also sense the professor’s dominant arousal, of course, as well as his true care for Emma’s happiness and well-being.
Her heart beat much faster as she heard their steps coming along the hall in her direction. She found herself biting her lip as Emma led in the tall man, nearly as handsome as Daniel and nearly as dark in coloring, though with striking blue eyes that narrowed as they discovered her there, clearly much lower to the ground—and much more naked—than the professor had expected.
“Professor Gage, this is my friend Molly Jackson,” Emma said primly, though Molly could see the blush on her cheeks from across the room.
“Hello, Molly,” the professor said, and Molly understood in an instant why and how Emma had come to take off her clothes in the men’s room at college. Well, she’d pretty much understood from the beginning, but the professor’s looming presence and the enfolding dominance of his voice fully confirmed her ideas on the subject. Professor Gage had the same ability Daniel did, to make a girl feel she had a lot to learn, but that he very much wanted to teach the necessary lessons. She blushed, too.
“Hello, Professor. It’s nice to meet you.” She felt his arousal grow, and found herself wondering about his cock. If Emma got to share Daniel’s penis, surely Molly got to share Professor Gage’s?
Molly didn’t have the slightest doubt that she and Emma would see that penis very soon, of course: they had worked it all out in the few moments after Daniel told them that the professor was on his way. Molly’s being in the cage because she had been naughty that morning made the little plan very easy to put together.