"Again,” Lawrence commanded. Again she leaned forward and engulfed the shaft carefully, taking it as far back as she could. Tears sprang to her eyes as again she gagged on the cock. She was humiliated and determined to continue. Lawrence sighed behind her and said, “Brian. She is not yet trained as you are. Help her. Show her what it is to really suck a man's cock. You may use your hands, Brian. Fuck her face."
Brian grinned, his breathing labored now as he took Sarah's head in his hands. Pulling her forward onto his cock, he began to rock his hips back and forth slowly, easing his erection in and out of her mouth. She struggled to keep her mouth open and her throat relaxed as he used her. Each time he brought her head forward onto his cock, he seemed to press a little farther. She gagged as his penis touched the back of her throat again. But this time she couldn't withdraw. He held her fast as he continued his relentless slow fuck. Sarah resisted her own intense urge to pull back. She would endure this. She must endure this for Lawrence.
Tears were pouring down her cheeks now. She wasn't crying. It was just a part of her gag reflex. She hoped Lawrence understood this, if he could see the tears. Brian's breathing was loud and ragged now. He pumped his cock into her harder and faster. Then he pressed back even farther. He held her pinned by his cock. Her nose was pressed to his bare pubic bone. He was choking her. She felt she was dying! All thought of pleasing Lawrence was gone now as she struggled to get away, to breathe. Her hands came around and she pushed against his strong grip, but still he held her. Lawrence was aware of her panic. Quietly, he told Brian to let go. Brian dropped his hands at once and Sarah fell back, gasping for breath.
"Well, you certainly have a long way to go, Sarah,” Lawrence was saying in a matter-of-fact tone. He seemed unaware, or at least unconcerned, that Sarah was lying sprawled at Brian's feet, heaving and clutching herself like a drowning victim pulled to shore. “But all in all that wasn't bad for a first time. We'll need lots of practice with the dildo. I may get you a strap-on penis gag, so you can leave it in your mouth while you're doing the housework. That should desensitize you rather quickly, I would imagine.” He was smiling as he spoke. Sarah had no idea whether he was serious.
"Thank you, Brian,” Lawrence was saying, as Sarah struggled to regain her composure. “If you don't mind stopping by tomorrow, we can have another go. Hopefully, you will find her somewhat improved by then."
"Yes, Sir.” As Brian dressed quickly, he showed no distress whatsoever at having been denied his own release. Calmly, he said, “I have instruction from Steven to make myself available to you all week, as needed, Sir. Thank you for letting me serve you, Sir."
He didn't even look at Sarah as he spoke. It was as if she didn't exist. Lying there on the floor at these men's feet, naked, exhausted and disheveled, Sarah wondered at herself. She had chosen this. No one was forcing her to be here. And she had to admit, even though her head was pounding and her jaws were aching, there was nowhere she would rather be.
That night, as Sarah lay in bed, she couldn't keep her thoughts from her needy body. These past several days, while taxing in every way, both physically and mentally, had also left her with a raging heat and need for release. For a woman used to lots of sexual activity, she found these several days of not being able to come excruciatingly difficult. She planned, therefore, to sneak just a quick little orgasm before falling off to sleep. No one would know, and she was sure it would calm her down ever so much.
After he bid her good night, Sarah lay still for a long time, waiting and listening for sounds to indicate that Lawrence was asleep or at least safely ensconced in his study. She found that her heart was pounding as she considered what she was about to do. She was going to touch his cunt. In effect, she was going to steal an orgasm from the man who was acting as her Master. She had promised to obey him, and here she was, flagrantly planning to deceive him.
Did she dare? She lay still, her hands above her head, clasped together, as she thought about Lawrence.
His green eyes were so compelling when he spoke. There was something hidden in those dusky eyes—some kind of languishing fire that she passionately wished she could ignite. And his mouth—it looked so soft and kissable. Would she ever be allowed to taste his kiss? As her thoughts traveled down his body in her imagination, her hands unclasped themselves. No longer wrestling with the moral dilemma of obeying her trainer's direct command, Sarah had given in to her wanton need to come.
Quietly, she pulled back the covers and brought both hands down to her already-sopping little pussy. Just the thought of what she was going to do had made her ready. Gently she spread her lips with one hand, while the fingers of her other hand found the already-hard little button of her clit. Rubbing and teasing all around it, she arched up slightly into her hand. Her own wetness and heat made her shiver with need. If only she had a cock—to fuck her, to make her scream with passion and desire.
Oh, if only the man in the next room desired her as a lover and not merely as a toy to mold and shape to his whim. She could feel his hard, muscled back under her fingertips as she remembered the massage she gave him with Yukiyo. She imagined herself now, continuing that massage, leaning over him with her naked body. Now she was pressing her full breasts against him, teasing him with her body.
As she lay feverishly twirling her fingers on her pussy, one hand strayed up to her nipples. They stiffened with pleasure at her touch. She closed her eyes and imagined Lawrence's mouth on her breasts. Her finger slid in and out of her slick entrance now as her breathing became faster. She could almost hear Lawrence whispering her name as she neared so close to the edge of her secret climax. She could hear him calling her...
"Sarah!” A pause. Nothing in the silence but Sarah's muffled gasp.
"Sarah! What in God's name do you think you are doing?” Silence. The heat in her loins was instantly replaced by an icy terror in the pit of her stomach. She felt almost sick with thwarted need. Lawrence was calling her name! In her fevered masturbation, she had thought his voice was only in her fantasy. But there he was, his face shadowed by the light of the hall sconce behind him. He was wrapped in his robe and his feet were bare.
Perhaps if she feigned sleep? But no. He had seen her. She was certain. She was doomed.
"Answer my question. What—were—you—doing?” He said each word as if it were a sentence.
Sarah sat up in the bed, wrapping her arms around her body, as if she could hide from him somehow. “Oh, please, Sir. Please,” she whispered, not sure herself for what she was pleading.
"Please what? Please excuse you for touching my pussy expressly against my wishes? Did you forget yourself, slave? Did you forget that you gave your body and your will to me? I thought you understood, Sarah. This isn't a game we are playing. You aren't a schoolgirl trying to put one over on the teacher.
"We have a contract, you and I, for these two weeks. I have promised to train you to be a proper slave, and you have promised to allow me to do so. That means you give your body; you give your soul; you give your will to me.
"Now you have stolen that gift. You have betrayed me. You have dishonored us both."
Sarah was stunned. His voice sounded so tired, so sad. She would have given anything at that moment to start the night again. To go to sleep, on fire but worthy. Instead, she had succumbed to her own base needs. And in so doing she had disappointed the one man who already mattered more than she dared admit to herself. The implication of it made her start to weep. Enormous tears rolled down her still-flushed cheeks and she covered her face in her hands.
Lawrence stood in the door, unmoved. His arms were folded across his chest and he seemed to be waiting for Sarah to take some action. Without planning it to affect him, but just because it was what she felt she must do, Sarah slid quietly from the bed and prostrated herself in front of him. She was crouched there, her head pressed to his feet, her arms clutching his ankles. Hot tears dropped on Lawrence's bare foot.
Sarah didn't speak; she didn't beg. But her silent plea was eloquent. She
was trembling and naked before him. She looked so small and contrite crouched at his feet. At least she seemed truly sorry for her transgression. But of course, she would have to be punished.
"Up.” Lawrence's voice was gruff. Up she jumped. The trainer turned and walked from her; she followed him, wondering desperately what he was going to do. Would he send her away, a dismal failure as a novice slave? Would he give her another chance? Would he punish her horribly? She knew she deserved it. He was going to the playroom. She followed, filled with dread.
The playroom was Lawrence's “dungeon.” It was his one obvious nod to the fantasy aspects of sadomasochism. The walls were paneled in dark oak. Shelves were built into all the walls from floor to ceiling. Along one wall they contained neatly arranged rows of dildos, plugs, cuffs, blindfolds, gags, clamps, ropes, and chains. On the wall opposite, hung an imposing array of whips and crops. There were horsehair whips and leather ones, braided, knotted, and loose.
There were crops of several sizes, as well as paddles. The canes were not hung, but were stacked in an umbrella stand near the door. Hooks and eyebolts were placed strategically in the floor and ceiling and on the walls. There was even a whipping chair, an antique from the days when subjects of some ancient kingdom were tortured thus for their more heinous crimes.
The rest of the room rather resembled a library, with the remaining walls lined with books from floor to ceiling. There was a charming Victorian library ladder designed for reaching the higher shelves. There was a large bay window with overstuffed silk pillows piled on the wooden shelf in front of it, perfect for snuggling up with a good book. There were also chairs scattered here and there, large chairs with high back and wide armrests where one could spend a happy afternoon reading.
Lawrence entered the room and flicked on the lights. He turned to Sarah and said simply, “Stay.” She stood rooted to the spot while he walked over to the toy shelf and picked several items he would be needing. Returning to her, Lawrence said, “Lift your hair.” As she did so, he buckled a leather collar around her neck. The leather alternated with loops of steel, which were handy for securing to hooks. Then Lawrence took a chain leash he held in his hand and snapped it onto the collar.
Turning from her, he jerked the leash, and she stumbled forward. He pulled her to the center of the room. Then he dropped the leash and told Sarah to hold out her hands. Without a word, he brought out a pair of metal handcuffs which he snapped shut on her slender wrists. Sarah didn't like metal cuffs; they ratcheted too tightly if she struggled.
She never allowed Julian to use them on her when they played. But then, this wasn't her lover, was it? And they most certainly weren't playing.
Still silent, Lawrence raised Sarah's arms up high. Snapping another chain to her wrists, he attached the other end to a hook in the ceiling, with the use of the little library ladder. He did not secure her feet, but left her there on tiptoe. This forced her to arch out and made her large, round breasts prominent.
Sarah almost smiled as she realized with relief that he was giving her another chance. He was going to punish her, which meant at least he still wished to train her. She swore silently to herself to be a model slave from this moment onward. And she would take this punishment with all the grace she could muster.
Lawrence stood very close to the naked woman. Though his robe was thick, he pulled it close around him. The room was cold and he knew Sarah must feel the chill. Well, he would heat her flesh soon enough. He slapped her nipples lightly and they immediately perked with desire. She almost moaned as he teased her with a twist to each nipple. When they were fully erect and aching for more, he attached the nipple clamps.
The sudden biting of the metal made her gasp and her eyes widened. He pulled gently on the chain hanging prettily between her breasts. Taking a little clip from his pocket, he pulled up, hard, on the chain, and attached it to her collar. Sarah did moan aloud this time, though from pain rather than pleasure. Her heavy breasts were raised slightly by the chain. The nipples were engorged and a deep red. They were twisted up and held fast by the silver teeth biting her flesh. The white skin, the red nipples, and silver chains made a lovely contrast.
But Lawrence was not there to admire her beauty and suffering. He continued to prepare her for her punishment, placing a blindfold over her eyes. Sarah's heart was thudding. She hated to be blindfolded; it somehow panicked her. Perhaps not knowing what would happen next was what frightened her so. Lawrence well knew of her fear. He wanted her afraid. He wanted her to work through the fear, work past it to a place where she truly gave up control.
He was certain she would never be more than the wanton masochist she now was if she didn't learn to completely surrender herself. And he was equally certain, from their many hours of discussion and from his observations over the past several days, that she was born to this and that he owed her the chance to become what she needed to be.
Lawrence selected a small flogger from the wall. It was of fine black suede with a nicely weighted handle. He glided silently to the blindfolded woman and whispered in her ear, making her jump and gasp. “We will start with a flogging, to prepare your skin for your real punishment. Tonight you will be punished as you never have been before. You will suffer for me. Do you understand?"
Sarah nodded mutely. She was having difficulty breathing. Lawrence saw her heaving chest. He moved in closer and put his arms around her for just a moment. “Slow,” he said. “Remember your breathing. Calm. Slow. You can take this, Sarah. I will not take you further than you can go. Or only a little.” He smiled as he said this, but she could not see his face. She shivered and wished he would hold her again. But instead, he said to her, “You will count each stroke for me."
She heard the sound of the whip as it struck her flesh in that split second before she felt it. Then came the sting. The first one landed across her ass. “One,” she whispered. Again the lash fell, this time across her thighs. “Two!” she grunted, breathing hard again. He covered her body with the leather methodically, working his way from her thighs to her shoulders. Then he moved to her front and whipped her breasts and belly. The whip warmed her skin, readying it for what was to come. Sarah counted steadily, falling into an almost-hypnotic trance as he relentlessly whipped her taut, naked body. When she reached the count of ninety-five, something began happening to her.
She could still feel the sting of the lash, but somehow it didn't hurt. He was hitting her quite hard now, but all she felt was sensation, not pain. Her breathing slowed and her head fell back slightly. Her lips were parted and under the blindfold, her eyes were closed as if in a peaceful sleep. She had stopped counting, though he continued to whip her.
Lawrence saw what was happening. He knew quite well the signs she was exhibiting—the slowed breathing, all trace of tension and resistance gone, the slight smile on her lips—Sarah was “flying."
She had achieved that state of grace that one could reach when being sexually tortured. Lawrence watched her for a moment, his whip arm lax. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes. Stay there. Stay where you are, Sarah, darling. It's lovely."
She was aware he was speaking, but she couldn't come down from wherever she was to respond. Nor did he expect her to. He slowed the tempo and intensity of the whipping. She swayed there, arms high above her head, her body flushed with the whipping and her own arousal, her head back. Still, the smiled played on her lips as she sailed in her own private heaven, vaguely aware that he had called her “darling."
Lawrence was not done. The punishment would continue. It would be interesting to see how she accepted it from her altered state. He chose a supple rawhide cane. Its sting was less severe than the bamboo canes he usually used for punishment. He didn't want to shock her from her sexual reverie.
The first blow landed on her ass and immediately a long line of fire—white, then red—rose on her tender flesh. Sarah jerked forward but didn't even cry out. Again, just above the first lash, the cane marked her with its fiery kiss. He continued, whipping
the flesh of her ass and back with neat little crisscrosses from shoulder to thigh. Sarah began to moan softly, and breathe more shallowly. She was coming out of her trance. The cane was too much for her. Lawrence continued with a few more strokes. After all, this was a punishment.
Sarah was dancing on her toes now, arching and writhing and trying to avoid the stinging rod she could not see. She had realized at last that she was being caned. The strokes on her welted flesh were more than she could bear. Her mouth opened in one long scream. The room was spinning and her knees began to buckle as she swayed there.
Just then, she felt his arms around her. Lawrence cradled her against his chest and smoothed her head. Sarah cried out in pain as he removed the clamps from her erect nipples. His fingers soothed her aching flesh for a moment. Then he released her from the chains that held her upright. She staggered, but he was there to catch her as she fell. He lifted the spent young woman into his arms tenderly and carried her from the room.
That night Sarah's sleep was deep and dreamless.
Chapter Six
The next day found Sarah again naked at Brian's feet. Lawrence had kept her busy all morning with household chores and exercises to improve her posture and grace of movement. He had said nothing about the night before; neither about her transgression, nor the curious altered state she had experienced while being whipped. Sarah was longing to discuss the experience, but didn't dare bring it up that morning. Perhaps dinner, their most relaxed and informal time together, would give her an opportunity.
What had happened to her last night? Something had changed. She felt different. She felt more graceful, more lovely somehow. She had never been whipped so steadily and mercilessly as he had whipped her last night. And yet, she had had little trouble enduring it. Indeed, she had to admit to herself that she had craved the lash as it hit her flesh again and again, harder and harder. She didn't just love the idea of the whipping, of the submission, as she had up to that point.
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