by Emily Tilton
She found herself thinking suddenly, and a little ruefully, then, about the day the men in the limo had taken her from school. Laura couldn’t help feeling a bit irate at Mr. Killington as she remembered, this man who had taken her as his executive plaything, for making her endure almost a full day of school before his men bundled her into the limousine that drove her into the city.
After all, calculus, physics, US history, and French had absolutely nothing to do with what it was now clear Mr. Killington wanted her to learn, and English had only the most tangential relationship with it: he did, it seemed, want her to appear educated enough to speak with proper grammar at dinner and perhaps at cocktail parties. That those parties would it perhaps precede sex parties where he would make her available to his business associates, and where proper grammar probably wouldn’t matter as much, seemed not to alter matters.
In a world where money could literally buy almost anything, where Lauren hadn’t really had any special notion of what she meant to do with herself at the end of high school, living in luxury in a high-rise apartment with a nice new friend and an occasionally nice middle-aged woman who usually let the girls do as they pleased so long as they did it in their school uniforms and used proper English, had a good deal to recommend it. Mr. Killington, she reflected, had written Lauren’s parents that nice email to accompany her own, saying that he would personally ensure their daughter acquired the skills that would make her successful in today’s highly competitive corporate environment.
It was true that Lauren’s own email had been coerced from her—or, rather that Mrs. Fredericks had written the email on her behalf, dictating it to her once the well-spanked Lauren had tearfully logged onto her account. Now, though, looking back on that awful first day of belonging to Mr. Killington, Lauren couldn’t quite remember exactly why all the fuss had arisen.
She also couldn’t deny, however, even with a little distance of time behind her, that the first time she had gone over Mrs. Fredericks’ lap had terrified her—and that the terror had been justified. Lauren’s and Jessica’s matron after all believed in setting her hand to the plow, and to her girls’ bottoms, with a firmness that reflected her employers’ trust in her.
That part of her memory made her shudder just a bit. Fulfilled and cared for. Well-paddled and well-spanked. “Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
His smile made the glow inside her seem to spread deliciously, and all the contrasting emotions—the shame and the eagerness and the curiosity above all—made her feel a little faint. Even his dark, perfectly trimmed beard, with just a few flecks of gray to show how much more experience Mr. Killington had of the world, of girls, of sex, made Lauren suddenly think that she didn’t really have anything to fear.
“So we came up with a plan to make sure that our girls get started early, learning about their sexual needs, and how those needs can serve their owners’ needs and wishes. That’s why after tonight, your mouth will be available.”
Lauren bit her lip and looked down at Mr. Killington’s silver belt buckle. The glow went to her face, now, hot as the sun.
“Mrs. Fredericks will tell you if a particular man is permitted to use your mouth, but I think you’ve probably already heard that Quentin and Walter, whom most of the girls call the limo men may do so.”
She didn’t try to pull her hands away, then, exactly, but Lauren did cling a little more tightly, which might have seemed to him like a withdrawal, or perhaps the prelude to one. Mr. Killington, though, as if to show that he wouldn’t permit such a withdrawal, drew her slightly closer to himself.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he said gently.
Use. Available. Such simple, normal words.
“Look at me, please, Lauren,” he repeated, now with such firmness in his tone that she could never, she thought, have failed to look up into those dark eyes.
“I know that scares you. But I also know it has a different effect, as well, just as I know that being spanked has the same kind of different effect on you.”
The same kind of different effect. It made no sense, but it also made all the sense in the world—all the terrible sense. The butterflies in Lauren’s glowing tummy went wild, and she found herself chewing on her cheek as she realized that down below, inside those awful white cotton panties, she had gotten really, really damp for the first time in her life. The panties had protected her poor paddled bottom, but the pain down there now—much more than when she had to watch Jessica getting spanked with the wooden spoon—had changed and didn’t even seem to be pain anymore. Knowing she had those innocent briefs on, under a plaid school-uniform skirt, seemed to make the shame and the different effect burn white-hot through her hips, in her bottom, in her wet little pussy.
My wet little pussy.
Lauren gave a helpless sob, and looked down again at Mr. Killington’s big hands, not tensing up again but unable to hold his gaze.
“Lauren,” he spoke warningly. “Don’t break eye contact unless I tell you to, now. Look at me.”
She emitted another sob and obeyed, not knowing how she could bear it—any of it.
“After you fellate me, tonight, I am going to inspect you, and then I am going to reward you.”
“Reward?” She couldn’t speak above a whisper, now. Her mouth seemed terribly dry.
“You’ll see. But I want to make it clear that until you’re ready, I’m not going to touch you sexually. I’ll inspect you visually, only, though you’re probably going to find it embarrassing how I ask you to display yourself to me—and I will inform you of some grooming specifications you’re going to comply with from now on, with Mrs. Fredericks’ help. But as I said, until you are ready for sex, as judged by Mrs. Fredericks, only your mouth will be available to me. Do you think you understand?”
What did it all mean? The words seemed to make sense, but the feelings they awakened in Lauren swirled around in a confused chaos. But… she understood, and she felt…
Grateful. So grateful. I have to… I have to be available, that way, but…
“Yes, sir,” she said softly.
He smiled. “I’m glad. Now I’m going to pull down my jeans and my underwear, and you’re going to start learning.”
“Yes, sir.”
He dropped her hands, and stood up. His strong fingers touched the silver belt buckle, and Lauren shivered to see it.
“That’s right,” Mr. Killington said, his voice seeming to come from very high above her. “When I’m doing this, your eyes should be down there, as a sign of respect. As I can see you understand, my belt is a very important part of your life, now.”
He undid the buckle, and then he unbuttoned his jeans. Lauren found that she had begun to breathe very rapidly through her nose, as she caught a glimpse of white waistband with writing on it, so different from the waistband of girls’ underwear, and tight, dark blue fabric below.
“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’ll let you take your time,” her owner said, as he unbuttoned the old-fashioned fly on the jeans. More of the blue fabric, with that strange, vented configuration Lauren had seen in the underwear ads that turned her cheeks pink before she could flip the page of the magazine or click away, online.
“Now help me pull them down,” he said. “Jeans and briefs together.” He put his own thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, and paused.
Could she do it? Her eyes had fixed themselves on the bulge in the dark blue briefs, and now, to her acute embarrassment, her mouth started to water. Lauren couldn’t believe it: could she really be drooling over the shameful duty of sucking a man’s penis?
She had to see it, now. She thought she couldn’t bear not to see it. She put her hands out, and though she started as she touched the smooth skin of Mr. Killington’s hips, she pulled, and his cock sprang free right in front of her face, long and hard. She felt afraid for a moment, but then she almost giggled because she had done what her owner wanted, and now he was holding his penis in his right hand, stroking it gently and showing it to her.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he said.
She obeyed immediately, though part of her wanted to keep looking at his penis, learning about how a real one worked, close up, when its owner wanted a blowjob. A little drop of glistening liquid had appeared at the tip of it, and Lauren wondered what it would taste like.
“One thing that’s very important to the club is that our girls learn to perform fellatio before we move them on to another way a man can use a girl’s mouth, which most people call by the name face-fucking.”
Lauren gasped slightly, and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“That means that you don’t have to worry about me forcing myself deeper than you’re ready for me to go. You’ll be able to practice taking cocks all the way to the back of your throat, before anyone makes you do it. So go ahead and start slowly, and use your hand on me gently, as well. Make me feel good. Eyes on my cock, now.”
Lauren gave a tiny whimper and obeyed. Mr. Killington still held his cock, pumping it gently. “Try doing it like this, sweetheart,” he said, “nice and gently.”
Lauren reached out and touched. Mr. Killington took his own hand away, and she tried inexpertly to stroke the shaft the way she had seen him do. Despite the lack of skill she felt, he breathed very deeply, and made a wonderful, satisfied sound deep in his chest. “That’s it. Good girl,” he said. “Now in your mouth.”
She opened her mouth, a little, hesitantly. “Look at me,” Mr. Killington said in a thick voice that Lauren somehow knew meant that she had pleased him with her hands. She obeyed, her heart beating very fast. His cock felt so… different. So unlike anything else to the touch, hard and supple at once. “Put your tongue out, and open wide.” His smile made her smile, and suddenly it felt almost like a game. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and curled her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Good girl,” he said, and the words made the glow down in her panties blaze up again. “Now keep looking at me, bend your head down, and take my cock inside your mouth, deep as you can.”
The heat in her face blazed up to match the heat below. It was so hard to keep her eyes locked on his as she obeyed him and sucked her first penis, but she did it. Even though she couldn’t get down very far before the tickle made her panic a little and stop, and it tasted so strange—earthy and acrid—she still felt proud of what she had done, because he said, “Such a good girl. Up and down now, like you did with your hand before. Eyes down again.”
He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, and he brushed back her hair, as she learned to please him. Her whole world became his lap, with its nest of wiry black curls that tickled her nose even though she couldn’t come close yet to taking all of his big cock inside her lips. With his left hand he petted and stroked the back of her head, murmuring encouragement. Part of her wouldn’t have minded if he had pushed her mouth down further, to make her take more of him inside, but he never did.
He’s going to face-fuck me, though. Isn’t he? Someday?
He made her kiss his balls, though, withdrawing his penis and pumping it himself while he presented his scrotum to her lips. Rather to her surprise, this seemed to give him much more pleasure than she thought it would.
“That feels very good, Lauren,” he said. “Very good. Sometimes when you suck, you’ll want to hold the man’s balls gently and stroke them.”
She blushed when he told her things like this, of course, but still she felt proud to be the kind of girl who learned these very adult lessons. And she thought about the reward. What had he meant?
Chapter Twelve
Lauren learned so quickly that John found himself having to hold back his orgasm, in order to make things go as he had planned them. Stroking her beautiful auburn hair and watching her work to please him, his hard cock plunging between her lips as she practiced bobbing her head up and down, he found himself much closer to the summit than he would have expected.
“That’s enough for now, sweetheart,” he said, and pulled her head gently off him.
Lauren met his eyes with a startled gaze, her own eyes watering charmingly and her lips looking enticingly thick and wet with her efforts. “But…” she said. “Sir, I thought…”
John smiled. “I was very close, and I’m going to come in your mouth in a little while, I promise. But I want to inspect you first, and I want to give you your reward while you bring me to orgasm.”
The twilight in which he had begun to teach her this first skill, so essential to the good order of affairs in the owners’ club, had become full dark now, the lights of the city the only illumination in the living room other than the dining-room fixtures and the glow of the spotlights on the rooftop terrace. John reached over to the lamp that stood next to the spanking chair, now, though, and turned it on, shedding a sudden bright—almost but not quite harsh—light on Lauren’s pretty face.
She blinked a little in surprise. Then John saw her nose perform the adorable little upward twitch that he suspected meant her modesty had taken hold: she had clearly understood exactly why her owner had turned on the lamp.
“Stand up and take off your clothes, sweetheart,” he said softly.
Fellatio for all, so that no one went crazy with lust for a girl who belonged to someone else, or—as in Lauren’s current case—whose submissive eroticism had not yet reached the necessary ripeness for thorough sexual use. And, for a girl’s owner, frequent inspection. They represented foundational principles of the owners’ club, which John greatly enjoyed putting into practice. No occasion for doing so gave him greater pleasure than the first time he told a girl to take off her clothes for him.
“I…” Lauren began. “But…” Another twitch. “All of them, sir?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes, Lauren. All of them.”
“But I thought…”
“I told you that I won’t touch you sexually, sweetheart, until you’re ready. But just as spanking and fellatio have become part of your life, inspection has, too. When I inspect you, you will be naked.”
Lauren looked into his eyes for a moment, her upper lip caught between her teeth, and then asked the question he had expected, but to which he knew she already had the answer.
“Why, sir?”
“Mrs. Fredericks and I are training you to use your sexuality to have your wants and needs fulfilled. For a lovely young woman like you, part of that will involve displaying yourself to powerful men—and also at times to powerful women—with the proper obedience, and with a mixture of shamelessness and modesty that makes them eager to, let’s say—just for the moment—get to know you better.”
That sent the blood rushing to Lauren’s cheeks, and her eyes descended again to John’s cock, still very hard from her pleasing ministrations.
“What if I don’t want to… be like that?” She drew her lips into a tight line.
John smiled. “If you really don’t want to learn more of what we have to teach you, and reap all the considerable benefits, I can bring you back down to Mrs. Fredericks and you can think about it for a day, and then we’ll send you home. She’ll spank you for disobedience, but after that you’ll be free, and the limo men will give you a ride.”
He watched the thought of the spanking travel through first Lauren’s mind and then her body. He saw her give into the idea that she had to take off her uniform and her underwear because if she did, she would have a reward, and if she didn’t, she would have a spanking. Her well-paddled bottom, recently if lightly spanked again, and clad in the modest briefs, clearly played an important role in the decision he recognized in her eyes, as she stood up and kicked off her loafers, then began to unbutton her blouse.
“Good girl,” John said with all the warmth of praise he could muster, and the lovely flush in her face responded to the incantation, as he sometimes thought of it. “Now drop it to the floor and put your hands on your head for a moment. Eyes down.”
He surveyed her sweet lit
tle breasts in the white halter top, his fingers itching deliciously to handle them. John had learned to savor every part of the process of bringing an eighteen-year-old into his bed, this period of frustration included.
“Take off your skirt, now, sweetheart.” Her hands went to the waistband, but then he said, “Look at me,” and she paused, her green eyes wide as she obeyed the instruction.
“This is the first time you’ll strip down for me, Lauren. I want you to try to see yourself through my eyes. Try to understand why a man likes to watch a pretty girl undress.”
A crease appeared on her brow, and she bit her lip. He could almost see the question forming on her lips.
“Go ahead, now. Your skirt, and then your socks, then your halter top, then your panties. Look at me after you take off each one.”
The question forced its way out. “Why, sir?”
“Because a naked young women is most alluring when she knows her master is enjoying the sight of her beauty.”
Lauren’s lips parted, and she drew in a sharp breath. “I…” But she clearly didn’t know what she wanted to say, though she nevertheless was clearly bursting to say it.
John helped. “You never thought about these things, I know. You only turned eighteen yesterday. That’s why my club, though many people might call it bad—might even call it evil—is such a good thing for girls like you. Without me, Lauren, this precious time in your life would be misspent. You would search, but you would not find what you were looking for, because you would not even know what that was.” He had put more and more authority in his voice as he delivered this discourse. Now he made his final words a command—his cock would permit no less. “Now do as I’ve said. I want to inspect you.”