by Emily Tilton
“Your friend?” Professor Gage asked in an easy, bantering tone.
Obviously reading Molly’s feelings on the matter, Emma said, as the pink in her cheeks spread a little, “I share everything with Molly.”
“Everything?” the professor asked, his voice making it entirely clear that he had heard the same innuendo Molly had.
“Yes, Sir,” Emma replied quietly. Molly could feel in both of them a little leap of excitement that she thought must mean this was the first time Emma had called her professor Sir. “You should ask Molly anything you want to know. She was Daniel’s…” Emma hesitated, clearly knowing that her next words would carry great meaning for the man she loved—and Molly could read clearly in her friend’s heart that she loved the professor, “…young lady before I was.”
The professor nodded in a way Molly couldn’t help calling to herself sage. He’s really a lot like Daniel, isn’t he? she thought with a bit of wonder. She had never before met a regular man who had anything at all in common with her immortal. Probably because I never went to college. She remembered Daniel promising to educate her, if she wanted, and for the first time she felt a passion to accept that offer. She had five more years with him, he said, and he had promised that if she wanted a graduate degree, too, he would fund it, and come to her commencement even if he had said goodbye to her as his young lady by then.
Professor Gage turned his eyes from his scantily clad, blushing student (for how could Emma despite her withdrawal from school cease to be called his student, Molly asked herself, given what had happened and given that the professor had come to find her?) to the girl in the cage. “Young lady?” he asked. “What does it mean to be called Daniel’s young lady?”
Oh, his voice. Molly loved Daniel’s voice most, but she could see how Emma might love this man’s even more. Alongside the rich dominance that resonated there, the professor’s voice also had a youthful urgency where Daniel had patience and perhaps a little weariness. Molly knew that her role in her master’s life included bringing her youthful spirit to rekindle, every day, the flame of passion, and she felt she could never get enough of that, despite what Daniel told her of the pattern his life with his young ladies had followed for thousands of years. But she envied Emma the professor’s voice, for just a moment.
Molly looked up at him and felt his ardent curiosity shining out like a beacon or a searchlight that sought knowledge in every corner of every room, and every corner of every mind into which he came in contact. An anthropologist: a scholar who studies the nature of human life, through the ages.
“It means that he teaches me to be a good girl for him,” Molly said simply.
“And sometimes that means being in a cage without any clothes on?” He spoke very lightly, almost jokingly, but Molly felt in him how passionately he wanted to understand, above all because what he had seen and heard of Daniel’s house so far had made his cock as hard as an iron bar, and made his need for Emma so great as nearly to overcome his reason. Knowing that Emma, too, could sense just how strong was his urge to raise her nightgown and find out whether she had panties on underneath, she almost giggled at the way her fellow house girl’s pussy responded so helplessly to the idea that her professor had such a burning desire to see it.
“Yes, Sir,” Molly said very meekly. “I broke a rule.”
“What rule did you break, honey?”
Molly felt Emma melt at the slight, caring condescension of honey, and she felt rather melty herself.
Some of her lingering shame came upon her, then: how could she tell the professor about the rule she had broken? She knew she had to, of course: Daniel would certainly spank her in front of the professor if he heard she had refused to answer a question. That didn’t help with her hot blush, though, as she spoke.
“I played with myself in bed.” At least she had the gratification of feeling the way a lightning bolt of arousal shot through the professor’s loins at this news.
He looked at Emma, which made Molly a little jealous—after all, she was the one in the cage, who had broken the rule because she had woken up next to her master and her fellow house girl with such a need down there that she hadn’t been able to help it and hadn’t been able to help crying out, because at that moment, as she humped her blanket, she needed not only the pleasure but also the discipline she must have in exchange for it.
“That’s not allowed?” he asked his wayward student.
She shook her head. “Usually we get whipped for it with Daniel’s belt, but I begged him to put Molly in the cage instead.”
Molly had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing then, because she sensed in the professor such a huge number of questions, among which he couldn’t decide which to ask first. Even funnier, though, was the battle that seemed to rage inside him between his mind and his cock: the professor’s cock wanted to know the answer to different questions from the ones in which his mind took an interest.
“Girls,” he said in a measured tone that seemed to indicate that his brain had come to some agreement with his libido. “I can see that you live in a very unusual sort of household, but it’s an arrangement that I can’t deny appeals to me greatly. I also can’t help feeling that your master’s allowing me to enter and to see you in your cage, Molly, means that he wishes me to become further acquainted with how things are done here.”
Molly watched the crease in Emma’s brow grow deeper as she listened, and felt the desire growing warm between her friend’s trim thighs. Much further acquainted, she thought with an inward smile.
The professor took another step into the den, toward the cage, rubbing his hands together as if—Molly couldn’t help feeling—he was getting ready to give a sound spanking.
Emma had stayed by the door, but Professor Gage turned to her now, and said, “Come here, Emma. I want Molly to tell me about you and what’s happened to you since I saw you last. I think I also need to have a look under your nightgown.”
A little whimper came from Emma as she obeyed, crossing the distance rapidly to him. The professor smiled at her warmly, like a teacher should when he’s about to deliver a very important lesson. His eyes traveled around the den for a moment in obvious satisfaction that he had arrived in a place that despite its evident strangeness had a great deal to offer.
Suddenly his expression froze, and Molly felt in his mind astonishment beyond anything, she could tell, the man had ever felt before. She followed his gaze to a small medieval painting on the wall—a painting of Molly’s master from hundreds of years ago. Daniel had shown it to her in their first house, where it had similarly hung in the den. It had a sentence in Latin under the image, which Daniel had translated for her.
Hic Daniel Magus, ut dicunt nonnulli, Carolo Magno servit plurimos annos perfideliter, et usque ad tempus nostrum vivit, ut videtur.
This Daniel the wizard, some say, served Charlemagne very faithfully for a great many years, and lives up until our time, as it seems.
Daniel had said that in those days he hadn’t had to worry so much about exciting attention, because those he knew had died so much earlier and kept such terrible records. They also, Daniel had said, enjoyed the thought that a person in their midst was an immortal a good deal more than modern citizens would enjoy knowing about him.
“That’s…” Professor Gage said. He frowned. Molly sensed confusion in Emma—Daniel hadn’t told her about the little painting, whose likeness of Daniel was nearly perfect. “That’s very authentic-looking.”
Molly wondered if she should be worrying that Professor Gage would figure out about Daniel’s immortality, but she only felt a little annoyed that his seeing the painting had apparently derailed the little erotic scene it had seemed they were about to play.
Daniel himself made everything come out right, though. “Not just authentic-looking, John,” he said, as he entered the den carrying a plate on which Molly could see, and smell, her favorite little spanakopitas, which Daniel made from scratch, including the phyllo dough. Over fifty t
housand years, he often said, a man keeps learning and practicing skills, new and old, in and out of the bedroom, or he loses interest in it all and fades away. Molly sometimes wondered whether more men might have become immortal if they had just not lost interest after a while.
Professor Gage turned to Daniel with an easy smile that Molly could feel covered over a good deal of confusion and curiosity. Mind over matter: his brain won the battle. Though the sexy, sexually dominant vibe had receded, Molly suddenly thought that Emma’s beloved’s intellectual dominance might be even sexier in the long run.
“An ancestor, then?”
Daniel smiled back, and shook his head. “No. That’s me.”
Now the professor’s expression and his emotions showed that he felt nearly sure Daniel was pulling his leg—nearly.
“Painted by Holbein.” He narrowed his eyes ironically. “In, what? 1540 or so? It looks like a late work.”
“Ah, you’re a connoisseur of medieval art, Professor.”
The professor gave a snort. “Don’t flatter me, please. Just a cultured man. Who also reads Latin and knows some history. Charlemagne died in 814. I’m just trying to figure out what kind of a person comes up with such an elaborate and erudite joke.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emma wondered for an anxious moment whether Daniel would get angry at Professor Gage. She was relieved when her master (current master! but maybe not for long?) laughed instead.
“The kind of joke only a true scholar could get, in this day and age?” Daniel asked with apparent joviality, though Emma could hear a good deal more in his tone than good humor.
Emma felt in the professor (John—so mean that I don’t get to call him John when he came looking for me!) that he had perceived the harder, almost forbidding element of the strange man he had just met. She felt him searching for exactly the right thing to say, to satisfy his growing curiosity and—how could Emma’s heart not thrill with joy at this, whatever the outcome might be—at the same time to secure Emma as his own. The professor, she could sense, felt like a chess player who knows he will find the perfect move that attacks his opponent and defends against him at the same time.
Just as thrilling as the knowledge that she loved him and he had come for her was the ability, thanks to Daniel, to reach inside John and empathize with him, understand his emotions and even some of his ideas. Really, it was even more thrilling in its own way, because knowing this brilliant, dominant man from the inside confirmed that Emma hadn’t misplaced her desire and her affection. Feeling John understand that something crucial lay hidden in Daniel’s words, in the way Daniel tested him, strengthened that joy even as it made her apprehensive as to the outcome.
When Daniel had told Emma and Molly that John had come, and Emma had reached out with her two-week-old empathic senses and felt him there across the street, her heart had seemed like a washing machine on spin cycle, full of old, waterlogged laundry and desperate to rid itself of the weight. She hadn’t known yet that she loved him; she had only realized that when she’d opened the door and had seen him actually standing there. She had known that she might love him—she had definitely wanted to see him.
But… she had a master, now. She had an immortal master who fucked her whenever he wanted, whose cock she sucked alongside Molly every evening until they shared the white seed that spurted from him, and kissed each other at his command to share it in that terribly wicked way, too. She had a master who whipped her for playing with herself without permission, which Molly had taught her to do on a regular basis, Emma humping her own fleecy yellow blanket until the tension in her thighs and soon-to-be-punished bottom ballooned into dreamy pleasure and she cried out to make sure she would be detected and given the belt.
She had a master who had trained her bottom for the first time the evening after he had deflowered her. After dinner Daniel had told Molly to fetch the bottom harness from the closet, and said softly to Emma, “Your time has come, little one.” Bending over the table, whimpering like the pet she felt like, Emma had received this new kind of lesson in submission: first the harness around waist and chest and shoulders, then the thick black plug for her narrowest opening, so that Daniel could fully enjoy putting his cock there.
Emma had been so frightened when her master had tightened the belt around her waist, from which the chains hung. She had known what would come next: first his fingers, slick with the special oil, moving slowly but resolutely inside her tiny bottom-hole, teaching her to open, and then, though she cried out in discomfort and shame, the plug she would have to wear as long as he wished her to wear it. As she had gone about the house doing her after-dinner chores, the harness had held the invader deep in her anus and had taught her that her bottom belonged to her master.
For Emma had an immortal master who put her and Molly, in their bottom harnesses, on his bed on all fours, next to one another, and fucked them side by side first in their pussies and then in their anuses, fondling the backside he didn’t currently ride, deaf to their cries of passionate discomfort as he sought his sacred pleasure inside their bodies.
Who could apparently watch for hours as Emma and Molly played on the bed with their blankets, like kittens, telling them what to kiss and what to touch, when to turn on their tummies and hump the pillows he put between their legs and when to lie head to tail and give each other the most shameful kind of pleasure.
Who had tamed her, and trained her, just as he had promised, using his hand, his belt, his cock, and, only once so far, Emma’s brand new paddle, into which she had stitched her name, under Molly’s guidance.
She shivered, thinking about the paddling the previous week. She had earned it, of course. Life with Daniel and Molly generally went very smoothly, but Daniel had made it clear to both his young ladies that Molly must be regarded as the senior house girl. Emma must obey her new friend as if Molly’s instructions came from Daniel himself.
“I don’t know,” Daniel had said the morning after he had fucked Emma for the first time, as the three of them cuddled naked in his big bed with Emma in the middle, “whether it will make sense for you to stay with us for more than a few months, Emma, but you are welcome for as long as you can obey my rules. Molly will be in charge of you, though. I have been master over enough polygamous households to know that sister-wives must know who has the authority, after the master. Molly may punish you on your bare bottom, but only with her hand. If she thinks you need the belt or the paddle, she will report you to me.”
That had made Emma’s heart quail a bit, but she felt how much it turned Molly on, and she couldn’t deny that it turned her on as well. Molly had spanked her three times now, for little mistakes Emma had made like breaking a glass she had been using her new telekinetic powers to clean. For a spanking from Molly, Emma had had to bend over the arm of the big leather sofa and raise her nightgown while Molly’s little hand rose and fell until Emma’s bottom had turned warm and rosy and she promised not to do it again.
The paddling had come about very differently. Daniel had fucked Molly the night before it happened, while Emma had to sleep in the cage, which Daniel had brought into the bedroom. It was the first time he had excluded Emma from his bed that way, and he had offered as explanation and consolation only, “This will be a new kind of training for you, little one. You may play with yourself.”
Then the sounds of Molly under his cock, moaning, crying out as her master rode her hard. Emma had to put the yellow blanket, already very fragrant with her special girlish scent, between her legs, and cry out herself as she sought her own release.
“Listen,” Daniel had said from the bed, as the bedsprings creaked rhythmically with his fucking. “Listen, Molly. Emma is masturbating.” Molly had whimpered, and given the special screamy moan that meant she had come with her master’s penis inside her. That had made Emma explode into orgasm herself, whimpering like a puppy who must stay in her cage all night.
As she had drifted off, her thoughts and feelings had been in turmoil. She
had sensed Daniel’s good will, and Molly’s, along with the same erotic satisfaction she herself felt. The degrading scene of the caged pet listening to her owners take their pleasure in each other’s bodies had aroused Emma more than she could ever have imagined it would, and she had felt safe in her cage afterward, as she always did when Daniel or Molly put her there. But she had also felt in Daniel that he had meant her to learn a different kind of lesson, too, beyond the idea that Emma got turned on by being subordinated to Molly.
So she had woken up restless and unsatisfied, wondering what lay in store and what it all meant, and she had wasted no time in acting out at Molly while Daniel had gone in to his office for a few hours.
“Sweep it yourself,” she had told Molly, when Molly had asked her to use her powers on the broom and sweep the kitchen while Molly did the laundry.
Molly had wasted no time at all, had made no threat. She had just said, “Master’s going to paddle you for that, Emma.”
Emma had done the stitching on her paddle five days ago. She had used her new powers to manipulate the heavy leather tool and make the necessary holes. She had threaded through those holes the yellow laces that matched her blanket and embroidered Emma on the leather surface destined for her bare backside. She had felt warm between her thighs at the thought of going over the ottoman the way Molly had on Emma’s first day, for putting Emma in the cage.
Now, though, she had cried and begged Molly not to tell Daniel. She had said she would sweep the kitchen. She had promised to be good. But Molly had simply told Emma to take off her nightgown and get in the cage, and swept the floor herself. Emma had had to spend an hour in the cage before Daniel came home, shaking as she remembered how Molly had sobbed and screamed when Daniel had paddled her.