by Syra Bond
I felt annoyed. I felt he was trying to make me look stupid. ‘I didn’t imagine for one second that you were looking,’ I lied defensively, and felt even more stupid.
‘Oh Syra,’ he sighed, ‘come and sit here.’ He indicated the raised platform in the centre of the room. ‘Remember, being truly bad is what you have come to learn how to do. I do not expect you to be bad yet. I only expect you to be a good student. Are you going to be a good student, Syra?’
I could do nothing but nod.
‘Good.’ He studied me soberly. ‘Good,’ he repeated, seeming convinced by my expression.
I felt strangely hesitant to approach the raised platform. It looked ominous, as though beneath what looked like a hatch there lay something terrible, something shocking.
‘Afraid?’ he asked me sharply. ‘Surely not, Syra.’
‘No, I - I’m not afraid,’ I stammered.
‘Well, we shall see. Perhaps being so close to Espartaco has made you brave? Perhaps some of his fearlessness has rubbed off on you?’
I suspected he was mocking me, but nevertheless I found myself speechless in the face of his dark, sinister charm.
‘Although I do hope not, for his sake,’ he added wryly. ‘He will need all his courage from now on.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that the next time Espartaco goes into the ring, he will need to draw on even the tiniest bit of courage you might have stolen from him. I think the next bull he faces will be more of an opponent than he has been used to so far. But Syra, come and sit.’ He patted the platform, indicating the place he wished me to sit even as he lowered himself onto it.
I shivered slightly, and then went and sat beside him. ‘What is this?’ I asked, stretching towards the shiny padlock.
He reached out quickly and slapped the back of my hand. The blow hurt, and I winced and pouted as I snatched my hand back.
‘You must not touch that, Syra my pet.’
‘Why not?’ I demanded petulantly, rubbing my reddened skin.
‘Because you are my student and it is enough that I have told you not to touch it.’
‘But I’ve been trained to ask questions. It’s my job,’ I retorted. ‘I’m a student of psychology.’ My tone was assertive, as though reminding myself of what I was, or had been, would somehow make things normal again. It did not.
‘Then being my student should be easy for you,’ he replied mildly. ‘Once I had many students. I worked at a famous university, but they did not appreciate my talents. Now I do my research here. This is my laboratory.’ He looked around the room, smiling. ‘And you are my special student, Syra. Now bend over. My student needs her bottom spanked for insolence.’
I felt my eyes opening wide in disbelief, but I merely enquired submissively, ‘Where?’
‘Over my knee, of course, like a naughty student.’ He rose and seated himself in a chrome-framed chair. ‘Here.’
I walked over to him slowly, my eyes lowered. I felt guilty and naughty as he patted his knees and I bent over them without hesitating. I stretched my hands to the floor and allowed my hips to rest fully on his lap. My panties drew up tightly into my pussy and I wondered whether he would pull them down or simply peel them to one side. He pulled them down. I shivered with excitement as I felt the flimsy white material dragging against my skin, and then twisting like a soft rope halfway down my thighs. He paused to look closely at my upturned buttocks as though analysing them, judging their muscular tone and their smoothness to determine how hard they should be spanked. Perhaps he was wondering how quickly they would redden beneath his admonishing hand. Because of the angle I was lying at, I knew he could see my anus and the outer edges of my pussy, and I squirmed slightly in an effort to show him more.
He placed his hand firmly against the small of my back to hold me still. ‘Your bottom is very smooth,’ he observed. ‘It is pale, though, and I will not stop until it is bright red.’
I allowed my buttocks to relax, saving the joy of tensing them for the moment when I felt his hand coming down against them. He carried on caressing and priming them for a while, and then he lifted his hand. I waited, breathing fast and biting my lip in anticipation. I wondered how hard he would spank me and whether there would be a prescribed number of blows. Wondering only intensified my excitement and I lifted my buttocks slightly, holding my breath.
He did not speak nor count nor explain to me again why I was being punished. He simply swept his hand down over and over again with relentless regularity. Each blow made me jolt, but the stinging pain of his flesh impacting with mine was the most powerfully wonderful sensation. I did not count how many times he spanked me. All I know is that my discipline for being insolent went on for a very long time, more than long enough for me to climax violently, shuddering and writhing on his lap.
He stopped punishing me and let me roll off his knees. I fell onto my side at his feet, and groaned when my burning bottom touched the floor as I rolled over onto my back. I looked up at him, not knowing whether he had finished with me, not knowing whether I should show how him much I was hurting and how much more I wanted him to hurt me.
‘Now, Syra my pet,’ he said casually, ‘you must freshen up, take a bath and shave your pubic hair. That is why I did not look between your legs when you walked in front of me up the stairs. How could I?’
‘Where is the bathroom?’ I asked at once.
He pointed to the green door. ‘You will find everything you need in there.’
I got up, making an effort not to wince and reach behind me to cradle my burning cheeks, and walked over to the green door. The smooth round metal handle was cool in my hand, and I stood there for what seemed like ages frozen at the point of action but unable to act. It was as though holding the handle but not turning it would somehow save me from my fate. As long as I stood there motionless nothing would happen. I would retain control over my actions... I turned the handle and walked through the door.
There were no windows in the room I entered, and all the walls and the entire floor were covered with brilliant white tiles. Bright lights set in the ceiling lit up every object with icy intensity; every edge was picked out clearly and every shadow perfectly defined. A chrome showerhead was fixed to a shiny silver pipe emerging from the ceiling, and a circular steel ring hung with a white curtain was set below it. Beside it, on a metal stand, was a bar of soap and a razor.
I pulled off my dress, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap, and tugged the thin gusset of my panties back across the flesh of my pussy before sliding them down my hips. My labial lips were still sensitive to the caress of the sticky material as it came away, and I ran one finger slowly against my slit. I felt my clitoris blooming between the fleshy mounds surrounding it, and when I pressed my fingertip against it, I felt its subtle heat. Then behind me I heard the green door opening.
‘Do I have to watch you all the time just to be sure you do what you are told?’ Galen demanded.
‘No,’ I said quickly, pulling my panties all the way down and stepping out of them. I stepped into the shower without turning around, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw he had left and closed the door behind him. I reached up and turned a heavy knob. The water spurted from the showerhead and I jumped back as the freezing cascade hit my breasts. I shivered and stepped back even farther as my nipples immediately hardened and goose bumps covered my flesh. I pulled my shoulders together to try and suppress another shiver, then took a deep breath and stepped beneath the frigid flow. I tensed my whole body, tightening my chest and forcing my arms down my sides as I let the cold water soak me with its chilling torrent. It ran between my breasts and over my stomach, circling my navel and rushing in seemingly eager waves towards my vulva. I watched it threading through my blonde pubic hairs, teasing them out and dripping off their ends. I stood with my legs open and let the ice-cold stre
am curve like an eager river against the insides of my thighs. I lifted my face into the flow, and as I stood pulling back my hair with my hands, my body began feeling warmer. The icy water no longer felt like an enemy; I was attuned to it and welcomed it. I took the bar of soap from the stand and rubbed it against my pubic hair, producing a fragrant white froth that ran down the fronts and the insides of my thighs into my cunt. I rubbed the soap harder against me and stepped back out of the stream. Then I placed the soap back on the stand, picked up the razor and carefully applied the blade to my mound.
I paused a moment, for there was something about the act of shaving my pubic hair that seemed terribly final, as though I would never be the same again afterwards. I knew my hair would grow back, but it was not as simple as that. I felt that if I shaved my pussy I would lose a mysterious sort of innocence and virginity. I sliced off the first few hairs, and straight away experienced an electrifying excitement. I dragged the blade further, feeling the sharp edge against my skin, and was aroused by the risk involved in having a sharp surface grazing my delicate flesh. I sliced through my hair and saw my fresh, naked skin exposed for the first time over my pussy. It was almost more than I could bear; how clean and pure it looked.
I wished Galen had stayed to watch and glanced back at the door just in case he decided to return, but he did not.
When I had shaved off all the pubic hair I could see, I sat beneath the shower, opened my legs wide and shaved any hairs that remained by feel. When finished, I felt absolutely naked and utterly exposed. I was instantly turned on. I placed my hand flat against my pussy and stood up. I ran my finger against the smooth crack and it felt like a new cunt - like someone else’s cunt. I felt a rush of excitement at the thought and let my finger part the unnaturally smooth flesh and poke inside the warm, welcoming entrance.
I heard the door handle turn, and glancing over my shoulder caught Galen’s eye as he looked around the edge. He looked angry and immediately I felt ashamed of how long I had lingered in the shower. ‘Have I been too long?’ I asked, quickly shutting off the water.
‘Come here,’ he said coldly.
‘I’m sorry, I know I should have been quicker.’ I looked around me for a towel and something to wear, but there was nothing.
‘Come here!’ he commanded impatiently.
I walked carefully across the cold tiles with my eyes lowered. ‘I have shaved as you asked me to,’ I told him meekly.
‘I did not ask you to,’ he corrected me fiercely, ‘I told you to.’ He opened the door and I walked into the main room without him having to tell me to. I stopped and waited for him, water dripping down my body and running onto the shiny red floorboards. By the time he closed the green door a puddle of water surrounded me, making me feel as though I had wet myself with fear waiting to see what he was planning next.
He walked past me and sat on the raised platform in the centre of the room. ‘I thought I would ask Eve to join us,’ he informed me, ‘but I have decided not to.’ His anger was gone again, but the menacing tone had returned. ‘Go and stand on the balcony,’ he instructed. ‘It is a pleasant evening. The air is filled with fragrances. It will dry you as though you had been rubbed down by scented towels.’
I walked obediently towards the balcony, and as I approached it I did indeed feel my skin drying. The evening had cooled slightly but it was still balmy and warm and the air was soft with the approach of night. I stopped and looked back at him. ‘Where shall I stand?’ I asked submissively.
‘Walk to the edge, Syra my pet, right to the edge.’ He must have seen the fear on my face, but he gave no indication of it, simply waited for me to obey him.
My mouth went dry and my stomach clenched anxiously. I stepped forward, but suddenly my legs felt hollow and so weak I could not move any further. ‘I’m afraid,’ I admitted pitifully. ‘I can’t...’
‘What frightens you the most, Syra? Is it the exposed edge of the balcony? Is it the fear of falling? Is it the fear of leaning on a rail that is not there? Or is it the fear of being seen from below, the fear of exposing your naked body to strangers, the fear of letting the world see your shaved pussy? Which is it, Syra?’
‘I don’t know,’ I confessed, turning back to face the room.
‘Why are you here, my pet? I thought you wanted to face your fears, to conquer them, to find out what it is to be truly bad, to look into yourself and discover what lies within you, to see if your evil intents are your passions or whether they are all just fantasies. Isn’t that why you have come with me, Syra?’
I stopped and bit my lip. I was pathetic. My intentions kept crumpling at every challenge. I felt weak and miserable and wretched. ‘How near the edge?’ I asked purposefully.
‘As close as you can get without falling, my pet.’
As I walked across the broad balcony I felt the increasing exposure, not only to the dangerous edge but also to the people slowly filling the square below. I heard their voices before I saw them greeting each other, ordering drinks and laughing. The sound filled my head and I imagined them waiting for me to appear like a newly married princess being presented by her lord to his subjects. As I neared the edge I felt the drop coming closer and my awareness of it frightened me, daunted me, but most of all what filled my mind was the thought of the penetrating stares waiting for my naked body to show itself.
‘Stop there,’ Galen commanded.
I stopped, and shivered with the ecstasy of being completely under his control as I dared to curl my toes over the edge of the balcony. The square was crowded with people, but my eyes immediately fell on the corner of a bar terrace next to a dark alley where a young, dark-haired woman with full red lips was sitting.
She leaned forward eagerly as she conversed with two young men who made her laugh with their responses. The soft, temperate air wafted up towards me, scented with the fragrances of evening. Each of the young men was under the girl’s spell; their emotions controlled by her every movement. I watched her becoming increasingly self-assured as she hung on to both their arms for minutes at a time. She rested her forehead against theirs for a moment, bunting them like a fawn, and stroked their cheeks, pouting as she did so. She rested her hands on their laps and kissed each of them in turn, first on the cheek and then on the lips. And as I watched I could sense their increased knowledge of each other, their growing intimacy, until I felt myself becoming part of it. I sensed the heat of their bodies, felt the warmth of passion on their skin. I seemed to taste their lips as they pressed together and to feel their tongues as they probed the insides of each other’s welcoming mouths. I watched as the girl, finally submitting to both men, was led from the terrace and around the corner into the dark alley. I saw one young man lift up her skirt and realised that, like me, she was not wearing panties and her pussy was shaved. I watched the young man kneel before her and lick her naked cunt while the other youth held her shoulders and kissed her, tonguing her deeply as she writhed in increasingly uncontrollable passion. I saw her being held against the wall by one of her suitors, her legs spread apart, as the other one opened the front of his trousers and promptly drove his hard cock up into her willing cunt. I watched her being steadied by one man as the other lifted her up in his arms and climaxed deep inside her. I saw her anxious face as he slipped out of her, and then the paradoxical keenness with which she accepted the second erection into her body, driving down over it until it, too, filled her with a pulsing stream of hot semen. I watched as she sank to her knees and sucked them both down, first one at a time for a while and then alternating between them. Then she blew them both at once, squeezing both cocks into her mouth and making them stiffen again. One of the men came over her face and the other sprayed his cum deep into her gaping, wanton mouth.
All the time I watched this scene I stood perfectly still, my toes clinging to the edge of the balcony. My orgasm began when the first man opened his trousers and it continued un
til the young woman smoothed down her dress and went back to sit on the terrace with her two lovers. Still I did not move, exhibiting myself like a statue to one of the young men as he glanced up inadvertently and saw me. As he stared I imagined myself as the young woman he had just fucked, and when I pictured myself being pressed against the wall by him as he drove his rigid cock into me, I felt another climax cresting inside me.
He drew a red line through what I had written about being in the shower, and scrawled in capital letters across it, IS THIS MORE FANTASY? He passed the pages back to me and sat waiting. I shook my head and he did not say anything as he stared at me. I clenched my teeth and shook my head again firmly, but he still did not respond. I felt foolish and stared down at my knees. Finally he told me to lie on the floor on my back, and I did. The stone was cold and made me shiver. He told me to be still, to put my hands by my sides and stay there without moving until he returned.
I lay there for what felt like ages doing exactly as he had said, hardly allowing myself to breathe in case he came back suddenly and said I was not still enough. When he did finally return, he was carrying a steel-legged chair in one hand and a silver razor in the other. He placed the chair above my feet, sat on it and told me to open my legs until my ankles pressed against the thin legs of the chair.