Submitting to the Lake Monster: A Three Story Bundle

by Nancey Cummings

  Alice complied, placing her bags and shoes carefully under a chair, layering folded clothes on top. Her pink bra and panties lay on top of the pile. “What would you like, Sir?”

  Parrish continued to write and said nothing.

  Alice scanned the room. The camera was still there, presumably on.

  Alice shifted her weight and smiled for the camera. She held her shoulders back and her long, dark hair spilled over bare shoulders.

  “Do you like performing, Miss Lynn?” Parrish asked.

  “Do you like looking at me, Sir?”

  “You have an attractive figure. Is all the preening and posing for me?”

  She nodded. “For you and whoever is on the other side of the camera.”

  “Sit at the edge of the table, Miss Lynn.”

  She perched on the edge.

  He sat at his desk, watching her.

  “Please open your legs. I want to see you.”

  She spread her legs slowly, revealing her inner self to his gaze.

  Being on display, thoughtfully considered, in the warm, stuffy office was intoxicating. Alice’s nipples hardened. She wanted him to do more than look. The arrangement was strange. Appointments in his little office at the top of library, standing naked before him, answering esoteric questions had to be leading somewhere. Maybe he was waiting for a sign from her. For her to demonstrate that she was ready for him, wanted him, wanted to please and serve him.

  Alice stroked herself, letting her fingers glide down the wet folds of her pussy. Her fingers circled around her clit, applying pressure and rubbing, and then backing away when her breath caught in her throat. She could make herself cum right in front of him; stroke herself, rub her nipples, arch her back and let the joy of release shudder through her.

  She had his complete attention. “Do I please you, Sir?”

  “Are you mine to please?”

  “You are my teacher, Sir. I want to please you.”

  “I am your teacher, not your lover.”

  “You could be, Sir. I’d like it very much.”

  He approached her. His gaze did not leave her face. “You crave approval and validation,” he said. “Let us meditate on it.”

  His hand covered her pussy, applying enough pressure to still her hand. He knelt before her, between her thighs. His face hovered an inch away from her sex, breath hot against the swollen lips of her pussy. Alice arched her back, straining to push her pussy right against his face, encouraging him to sample her wares. Meditation was amazing.

  “You must remain silent.” His breath pulsed against her tender, eager flesh.

  “I will try, Sir.”

  “Red or green, Alice.”

  “Green. Please, Sir, green.”

  His touch was fleeting, his lips brushing against her ever so lightly and sending a cascade of delight through her. A moan escaped her lips.

  He pulled away and crossed the room, the tension between them crackling like a summer storm. Alice would burst. “I would like to fuck you very much, Miss Lynn, but that is not today's lesson.”

  “What is the lesson, Sir?” Disappointment weighed heavily in her voice.

  “Miss Lynn,” he said, lifting the cardboard box, “We are doing research today.”

  The idea of research excited her.

  “Please wear these.” He motioned to a pair of white gloves and a white scarf on the table. Confused she put on the gloves and wrapped the scarf around her neck.

  “Now sit at the table.”

  She sat, her partially covered bottom sticking to the wooden chair. “May I ask what we are doing, Sir?”

  “Thank you for asking, Miss Lynn. Curiosity and courtesy are delights that rarely enjoy each other's company. Today we are reading. Some of the documents are fragile and you must only handle them with the gloves.”

  “Then why put them in a cardboard box, Sir?”

  “Transport. Boxes within boxes.” He reached into the box and produced a series of thin, flat boxes, much like shirt boxes. Inside these boxes were yellowed newspapers. He removed one and spread it on the table carefully. “Lay it out like so and turn the pages with care.”

  “What am I reading?”

  “Aquetong requires information. I need you to pursue these newspapers for any mention of Mr. Aquetong’s family.”

  “Fact or fanciful, Sir?” There had to be a lot of gossip and rumors over the years about the lake monsters.

  “Both.” He tugged on one end of the scarf, dragging it across her sensitive neck. “And this is because you cannot stay silent when commanded.” He tied the scarf over her face, forcing the fabric in her mouth. He checked for fit, tugging to make sure it was firmly in place but not covering her nostrils.

  “Is the mouthy little fish fucker comfortable?”

  She nodded, cheeks flush with frustration.

  “When you find something, take a photo of the article with this.” He handed her a tablet.

  Alice sat and read, occasionally photographing the tiny, yellowed newsprint. The Aquetong family name cropped up, usually with the modifier “reclusive” or the more unforgiving, “antisocial”. She found repeated mentions of the Innsmouth look: local people who had a vague, fishy visage to their appearance: rounded heads, small ears and grey-greenish tint to their skin. Eventually these people went missing. People speculated it to be a fever of some sort, lake fever. Mentions were far more prevalent at the turn of the last century and simply faded away by mid-century.

  She shifted in the chair, the back of her thighs sticking to the vanished wood. It wasn’t just sweat making the seat damp. The gag in her mouth made it difficult to concentrate on the research, when all she could think about was getting another paddling with a book. Deep breaths helped to maintain focus and keep her thoughts away from her throbbing clit.

  Then Alice saw the pattern: the fish-like people who went missing, as the newspaper became older and older, preceded by scandalous reports of children born out of wedlock. Alice found even older reports of women abducted by strange creatures near the lake. Aquetong clearly wasn’t the first in his family with a taste for human women.

  Parrish stood behind her. His hands gathered up her hair and fingers brushed her neck. Her spine stiffened in surprise but she made no sound, gag still firmly in place. “Have you meditated on our lesson yesterday?”

  The gag loosened and he pushed it down, resting it around her neck like a fashionable accessory.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And what can you tell me?”

  “You said I want approval and validation, like it was bad thing, Sir. But I think I need to know if I’m being good.”

  “How do you mean good?”

  “If I am pleasing. I want to please. So very much. I need to know if I’m succeeding.”

  “So you want to submit and serve your master.”

  “Like I need air to breathe, Sir.”

  “I understand the sentiment, even if it is too poetic for my tastes. So you want to submit but you push back, explore boundaries. Can you tell me why?”

  Face still cast down to the table, her eyes flickered up to his face. “I need to know if I’m good. I also need to know if I’m bad.”

  His hand slammed down loudly on the table. “You’re a terrible liar, Miss Lynn. You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

  “Sir?”

  “And you’re only here because that filthy fish told you to be here.” Accusation stung in his voice.

  Alice’s gaze held his. Everything he said was true but she wasn’t going to listening to him bad mouth Aquetong. “You’re just jealous because you can’t measure up.” Her gesture made clear what did not measure up.

  He smiled, one eye brow arched. He’s wasn’t falling for cheap pot shots. “You’re here to serve me and learn to submit to your master, Alice. Is this serving us?”

  “Is doing all this reading serving?” Her voice grew impassioned, frustrated.

  “How would you serve me?”

  �
��I’d like to take you in my mouth and suck your dick. I’d let you cover me in cum.”

  “And that’s your idea of true submission?”

  “But I’d let you bend me over this table and fucked me six ways to Sunday. Sir.”

  “You’re trying to provoke me, Alice.”

  “I’m surprised you’d let a mouthy little fish fucker like myself get you upset.” Was this part of the play? Verbal abuse to wrap around the binding and the teasing, pushing her into submission. Alice grew warm. Sweat trickled down her back.

  “The lesson is not done,” Parrish said. He raised the scarf back up and tightened the knot on the gag. He moved to the book shelf and picked up a polished blue implement. When Alice saw the curve of the stone gleam in the afternoon light and the head of the instrument, she recognized the tool. Faint etchings in the surface gave the illusion of scales and fins: a monstrous stone dildo.

  “This is ancient,” he said. “Can you imagine struggling for survival, to find food or stay warm in the winter? Man was at the beginning of mastering handmade tools but amidst all the chaos and terror of daily survival for our primitive ancestors, the drive for sexual pleasure was important enough to create this work of art. Of course, our mutual friend’s species was old even then.” He cradled the stone dildo in his hand.

  He stroked her checked with the smooth head of the apparatus. “Tell me why I should use it on you.”

  Alice struggled against the gag to answer him.

  He shook his head. “Better yet, let me tell you why you’re not worthy, Miss Lynn. You lay with a beast and you love it. Worse than a beast, an abomination, an unnatural creature that is unholy and the world rejects.”

  He grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her arm, forcing her against his desk. This was exactly the position he had her in yesterday, turned on and wound tight, before ordering her out.

  “Red or green?” He pulled the gag down roughly.

  She wanted to shout out red, to gather her clothes in haste and leave, but the color green was on her lips. Parrish thought he was frightening, thought he was cruel and she couldn’t take some name calling? Fuck him. She’d show him. “Green, you asshole. Are you going to fuck me or talk all day?”

  His hand covered her mouth roughly and he shoved in the stone implement, sinking it in completely.

  Alice howled with desire and discomfort, voice muffled by her hand.

  He yanked the gag back into place, pulling hair. “I should fuck the fight out of you, Alice, and shape you into something really special.” His weight pressed against her, pushing her down onto the desk. His hand worked the stone implement in and out with a quick pace, wrist snapping back before plunging back.

  Alice moaned. The dildo, thick and rigid, plowed into her with the strength of Parrish’s arms. She tried to move her hips, to match his rhythm, but his weight kept her in place.

  “But I won’t defile myself. I have self-respect. Do you have any for yourself, Alice?”

  She tried to answer but saliva tricked out of the corner of her mouth, soaking into the gag. He wasn’t really looking for a conversation.

  “I do, however, have pity for you.”

  The dildo sank all the way, the hand slamming against her core.

  “You followed directions today and gave a half-assed performance.”

  Slam.

  Slow pull out, dragging the slick stone out of her channel, muscles gripping the ancient tool.

  “So I’m giving you a half-assed fuck.”

  Slam. Her body shook.

  The climax broke over her fast and relentless, running hot and freezing all at once. Her cries were muffled by the gag, barely audible. Parrish held the stone in her while her hip bucked. He stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the lobe of her ears, letting the sensation pass.

  Finally, he pulled the stone out. Alice gasped with relief. Gently he removed the scarf and let her up, running his hands over her torso to look for bruising or injury.

  “I think we made real progress today, Miss Lynn.” Parrish pulled two titles down from a nearby shelf and handed them to her. “Your homework tonight. Don’t let the dog eat it.”

  Chapter Four

  The next afternoon, Parrish met her on the stairwell. “Follow me, Miss Lynn.”

  She followed him down the stairs, past the students at tables, past the front desk. “What did you think of the reading list?”

  “Engrossing.”

  “I seem to have a knack for knowing what people will like. Librarian sixth sense, if you will.”

  He led her across the wooded campus and down towards the lake. They approached an old boathouse, closed and abandoned for the newer building further down the shore. The boathouse was turn of the century style with ornate stone and ornamental half timbers, giving the building a fairytale appearance. The gentle waters lapped against the structure, wearing away paint to reveal graying wood.

  Parrish approached a side door. A heavy padlock and iron chain barred the door. He produced a ring of keys. He looked at the keys, unsure which would do the job. The first key remained stationary in the lock.

  “The Aquetong family donated a considerable amount of property to the university,” he said, working his way through the key ring.

  “All lake front?”

  “Yes,” he said. “The family used to own all the land around the lake. They finally sold off during the Great Depression. They are the only reason there is no mill or million dollar hotel on the shore of our fair lake.” The lock turned reluctantly. He smiled.

  He produced two flashlights from his pockets. “The light may not be optimal but we have privacy. Watch your step.”

  The boathouse interior was an empty fitness room to the left and locker rooms to the right. The double doors opened directly onto the lake. Water lapped at the empty dock which once stored row boats.

  There was a bench. A blue blanket covered the bench. On the blanket was a silk whip and silken rope.

  It was play time.

  “Is this for me, sir?”

  “I think we are ready for a field trip, Alice. Now take off your clothes.”

  She reached to pull her blouse over her head.

  “Slowly, Alice. We are adults and we have all the time we need.”

  “Do you like to look at my body, sir?”

  He nodded. “You’re beautiful. I appreciate beautiful things.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse slowly, gradually reveal flesh. The white cotton slid down her shoulder, revealing her white bra. She reached behind her and unzipped the pencil skirt. The fabric slid to the ground. She stepped out of the skirt. Alice bent to undo the strap on her heels.

  “Leave them on,” Parrish said.

  She righted herself, standing for his approval. “What do I remove next, sir?”

  “Let me see your tits.”

  His language was getting coarse. Alice fought the urge to smirk. This must be the exchange of power he mentioned. He had physical domination over her. She exerted sexual desire over him, made him lose control. She liked this game.

  Alice unhooked her bra. Her arms folded over her chest, holding the bra in place.

  Parrish closed the gap to her, forcing her arms down. The bra fell to the floor.

  A finger under her chin tilted her head upward. His mouth captured her. The kiss enthralled her. She was putty in his hands.

  His hand slid between the cotton of her panties and her soft skin. He tugged forcefully at the fabric but the elastic band held. “Take those off now.”

  She complied.

  His hands skimmed her form, the flesh of his palms nearly touching her, static electricity crackling between their skin.

  “What is my lesson today, sir?” Please let a sound and thorough fuck be on the syllabus.

  “Hold your hands like this.” He put both wrists together in front of himself.

  He picked up the silken rope and loosely tied her wrists together. The binding slid over her skin without irritation. “Today, Miss Lyn
n, we shall explore the pleasure pain principle. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She wasn’t big on Freud but was open to learning about an oral fixation.

  “We, as humans, seek pleasure and avoid pain. It is instinct. This drive for pleasure is our libido, it is the watchmen over our lives. The purpose of life is the pursuit of pleasure. Now, Miss Lynn, lie belly down on the bench.”

  She lay down on the blanket. While thick, the rough wood of the bench nearly poked through.

  The silk whip drifted across her body, brushing against her, the whisper of future sensations. “Red or green.”

  “Green,” she said.

  The whip lashed across her ass with a sting.

  “Our fragile mind will do anything to avoid pain, even scrambling the input and convincing ourselves that the pain is pleasurable.”

  Another crack. Another sting.

  “Anticipated pleasure and anticipated pain are as strong a motivator as the sensations themselves.”

  This lash fell lower on the back of her thigh and stung sharply, bringing tears to her eyes..

  “How do you find it, Miss Lynn?”

  “Amazing, Sir. I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

  Another blow, this one on the fleshy part of her ass. Alice shivered in delight. Her clit throbbed. Her wetness dripped down her thighs.

  “Isn’t the anticipation much better than a crude smack?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tell me how you want me to fuck you, Alice.”

  “Please, Sir. Anyway you like.”

  A lash fell on her lower back. Her fingers curled into the blanket.

  “How do you want me to fuck you, Alice?”

  Alice was slow to respond. She wanted so much.

  This time the flat of his hand landed on her ass with the fleshy smack of impact. “This is for your pleasure. Let me give you pleasure. I cannot do that if you do not communicate with me.”

  “Hit me again and I’ll tell you.”

  “Why should I slap your gorgeous ass again?” His hand rubbed tender red flesh.

  She knew he enjoyed it as much as her. She could hear it in his voice. “Because the anticipation is strong as the blow, because the sting will make everything else so much sweeter.”