Veronica rubbed the whip over the hurt skin. “How does it feel to be punished like a dog?”
“Hu—humiliating,” Cameron managed to exhale the word.
She only prayed it was the right answer.
“But it turns you on.” Veronica tapped Cameron’s nipples one after the other with the flat end of the crop. It was agony. Her breasts were so swollen, sweaty and straining against the sports bra.
Thank heavens Veronica’s latest question proved to be rhetorical.
“Bend over,” she said. “Grasp your ankles.”
“What—what are you going to do?” she asked meekly.
Veronica grabbed her by the hair. “Whatever I fucking feel like doing. Is there a problem?”
“No, Mistress.”
Cameron felt the blood rush instantly to her head. It was a vulnerable position, one that left her open to a lot of things.
She felt Veronica’s hand on her buttocks through the panties, long manicured nails, fine, delicate bones. “Do you like when men look at you? Do you like your ass?”
“Sometimes,” Cameron said honestly.
Veronica laughed. “What you need is to be spanked every day. I’ve met females like you.”
Cameron was feeling the heat, a fine sheen of sweat on her exposed skin. Was the air conditioning not working?
“You act like you don’t want it, you give men the runaround but you’re not happy until you’re somebody’s slave.”
“I wish people would stop saying that,” Cameron blurted without thinking.
She cringed immediately, fearing further punishment.
Instead, Veronica was delighted. “Who else told you that?”
Cameron told her about Rennie, which put her into hysterics.
“That man is gay as the day is long,” she said. “But he insists on playing with female subs. It’s a pride thing, don’t ask me.”
Veronica was gone for a minute. When she returned she had something hard.
“Recognize this? Yep, it’s a standard issue dildo, babe, and it’s going in you. Oh, you’ll love it. You’ll be grunting and moaning in no time.”
Cameron’s thighs ached. Her hip still hurt, if that was possible. “May I have a drink of water?” she asked.
“Oh, no problem,” said Veronica.
Next thing Cameron knew her panties were down around her hips and she was being whipped.
“Please,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t need water.”
The physical pain was like the rail of a train, steel wheels slicing through her brain, but with every turn, with every blow came this other reality, the second rail.
I’m being whipped. I’m being whipped. I’m a bad girl asking for water. I need to make it right, oh, god make it right.
This rail was bittersweet, dark, forbidden like chocolate in the moonlight.
Cameron didn’t count them all. Maybe it was five, maybe ten. She had the sense it wasn’t much by BDSM standards but it had just rocked her entire world.
“Don’t move,” said Veronica setting the whip on Cameron’s back.
She agonized, trying not to move.
Veronica returned with a small silver dish which she had filled with water. It was exactly the same kind she had seen in the slave cages at the club.
“Like I said, I come equipped.”
Veronica had to help her kneel because her head was spinning so much. Not a word was spoken between the two women as Cameron got down on all fours, crawled to the bowl and kissed the cool water.
She drank it like a good girl, pleasing her mistress.
I don’t know how far this will go, Veronica had said.
Pretty damn far at this rate.
Veronica pushed the dildo up inside her while she was still drinking. Cameron burned with shame and scandal at the way it went in, so smooth and easy, like her cunt had been born for this.
Curling her toes, she gave up more of her hot, wet channel, letting the device cleave her body and soul.
“There is a good little bitch,” said Veronica. “Happy, sweet Cameron, a walking advertisement for 24/7 submission, or should I say a crawling advertisement.”
Cameron moaned. How surreal it felt, on all fours, nipples chafing against her bra, puffy pink sex lips kissing and sucking at the dildo with humiliating eagerness between the half moons of her ass cheeks.
“Is that the best you can do?” Veronica disapproved, whipping her ass with the crop.
Cameron wriggled and writhed in reply, trying to get it deeper. Every inch more put her closer to nirvana, to the center of her own sluthood.
“Does Craig do this for you? Does he know how to push your buttons? Lucky little bitch, you’re having the time of your life, making me do all the work.”
“Harder, fuck me harder, Mistress,” she said, not caring for her pride, her future or anything else. “Please, just use my hole.”
Veronica obliged, thrusting the dildo deep enough to make her see stars.
Cameron collapsed onto her elbows, taking it, her cheek to the floor, her whipped ass in the air, blatant, reckless.
She kept saying it over and over, wrapping her head around it just like her cunt wrapped around the fake cock.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…
Veronica chose this moment to lay a bombshell. “You’re not going to come, baby doll, not if I can’t.”
Cameron strained to see over her shoulder. “Did…did Victor say that?”
Veronica smacked the meat of her ass with her palm. “I said it, are you deaf?”
Cameron whimpered, almost giving in to the self pity, and then at the last second she clenched her fists and screamed.
It was primal, it was rage. It was a lot of shit stored up.
“Stop being a brat,” said Veronica. “At least you can go home and get off.”
“I need to come,” Cameron cried. “It’s not fair.”
Cameron knew she was pushing it, but why? Did she want to see how Veronica would handle a tantrum?
She got her answer quick enough.
“Get up,” Veronica commanded.
Cameron sniffled, a bellyful of trepidation under her pouty exterior.
She was about to get what she had wished for, like it or not.
Veronica proceeded to take her by the wrist and led her to the closet, making a quick detour at the toy bag.
“Ask me, go ahead, fucking ask me what I’m going to do,” Veronica dared her.
Cameron figured it out quick enough.
No wonder Veronica had thought the room was so perfect.
Among other things, the dowel rod in the closet was just the right height.
Veronica fed the hand cuffs through and clicked them closed, securing Cameron’s wrists just above her head.
Fuck.
Veronica glared at her, another dare.
Cameron lowered her eyes.
“I can see, you bring it out in people,” Veronica said.
Cameron was afraid to ask what it was she brought it out. Whatever it was, Veronica didn’t volunteer.
She walked away instead, hips swaying imperiously.
“I’m sorry,” Cameron whispered now, too softly to be heard.
The lights went off. It was dark on account of the drapes being closed.
Except for a sliver of dirty light coming through the industrial sized window like something in an urban vampire movie.
This was definite mind-fuck territory.
Cameron was so fucking horny.
She would fuck that desk clerk. She would fuck the broken broom handle with the duct tape on it that he kept on the desk for security.
Oh, yeah, Victor had trained Veronica well. What did the rest of life matter when you could play like this, bleed like this?
It was a waiting game.
And Cameron was supposed to lose.
“Mistress, Veronica…I’m sorry…your slut…is sorry.”
This time it was loud enough to hear.
Veronica came
to her but not with any noble intentions of freedom.
“Open your mouth to complain and I will put a ball gag in it.”
Cameron bit her lip, nothing but anticipation as Veronica cut the straps of her sports bra. As feared her breasts betrayed her, spilling out, bouncing, begging attention, craving abuse.
Veronica played with them a little, like they were lonely puppies.
Just long enough for Cameron to want it soft and then, boom, the rug pulled out again, we now return you to your regularly scheduled sadomasochism.
The clothespins were strangely ordinary. Veronica knew how to apply them.
“You have to feel into the pain. It bites and doesn’t let go. Let your crotch have it, that’s my advice.”
Cameron danced in place for the first one, foolishly.
The pin only bit harder, faster.
She was steadier for the second.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad, a radiating throbbing, a kind of warm security, an absolute in a nebulous world.
“Turn.”
One simple word, a command.
Cameron let her ass face out.
She thought of herself in terms of body parts, tits out, belly out, cunt out.
Veronica had something broad and flat.
Cameron yelped. Shit was that a violation?
She was quiet for the second blow, taking the paddle across the broadside of her behind, the ass she sometimes liked and sometimes didn’t.
“I’ll leave it at two,” Veronica said. “Wouldn’t want hubby to ask too many questions, seeing you all bruised and beaten.”
Cameron caught the error. Was it a test, to see if Cameron would correct her for mistaking the relationship between her and Craig?
“Turn,” Veronica said again.
Cameron rotated, little shuffling bare foot steps.
“Spread.”
Oh, jeezus, a vibrator. How was she supposed to keep from coming now?
Veronica went right for her clitoris.
“I can’t, I can’t,” Cameron whined.
“Can’t what? Follow orders? Lazy little slut, I would beat you every day, you would wear chains and sleep in a little cage because you can’t handle freedom.”
Cameron held on, somehow.
Veronica left her, letting her slump against the wall.
How long was this going on, hours, days?
She strained to hear something, anything.
“Don’t leave me like this!” she shouted, already cringing in anticipation of punishment, like these nipple clamps weren’t enough, beating at the walls of her brain, demanding response, wanting the pain sensors to shoot off for real.
Veronica returned, but not to whip or paddle.
It was worse, she wanted to talk.
“What are you gonna do?” Veronica whispered in her ear. “When he calls for you?”
Cameron knew who she meant, it was hardly rocket science.
“How—how do you know he will?”
She snorted. “You’re flavor of the day.”
“I will say no…”
“To Victor? You?”
“Just because I’m submissive doesn’t make me his submissive.” It was a corny line she had read in an on-line journal, but Cameron liked the sentiment.
“Oh, you’ll say yes all right, because Victor knows the secret.”
“What secret?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you, if that’s what you think. It’s everything to do with him. The man enjoys this shit, he loves women and he loves torturing them.”
“You’ve just described half the serial killers of the world,” Cameron ventured.
Veronica shrugged. “You’re the psychologist, but I don’t think serial killers really enjoy it, they just have all these shut down parts of their brain. Victor’s is lit like a Christmas tree. He won’t really hurt you, he knows right from wrong, but if you go into his lair you’re gonna get the treatment.”
“Like you?”
Veronica kissed each of her clamped nipples. “It’s going to hurt when I take these off. You got someplace you can go?”
“It’s a little hard chained in a dumpy closet.”
“I mean mentally. Can you drain all it off into sex?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“We call it subspace.” Veronica ran her finger nails across Cameron’s belly. “It’s where a master sends you, but you got to want to go. Maybe if you think of Craig doing this, chaining you up, making you sing…and cry.”
Cameron felt nothing.
“Or should it be Victor, is that what you want? Would you like to be his pretty little slut, begging his attention, crawling, whatever it takes? You know what you see in his eyes when he’s clamping your breasts or shoving his cock in you? No fucking compromise, that’s what you see. That’s the goddamn terror. He doesn’t need you, he never will, but you’ll need him, more and more and the ante will go up, and you know eventually you’ll falter, you won’t have enough and then…”
“And then what?” Cameron cried, feeling the waves of pleasure and pain, ripping through her mind.
She took off both the clothespins at once. “And then…he leaves you.”
Cameron slumped in her bonds. She fell against Veronica who gently began to soothe her.
“You’re safe, we have…each other.”
Cameron was sobbing. She didn’t know why.
Veronica said something about a standard reaction to a first session.
She drew a bath and let Cameron soak a while in the tub. The suds played about her half floating breasts. She ate her knees on account of the small size. Veronica sat on the outside of the tub, her feet tucked under her. She had a silver flask in her purse, Russian vodka that went down surprisingly easy.
They talked until it was dark.
Cameron remembered her car back at the restaurant.
She also remembered Craig.
“Are you all right to drive?” asked Veronica.
“I think so,” Cameron said. “As fit as you are at least.”
Veronica snorted. “That’s not saying much.”
Cameron snapped her fingers, remembering. “Snot rag--that was my safety word.”
“You forgot it? Good lord, why didn’t you tell me?”
“You said you would ignore anything I said except the safety word itself. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to stop what you were doing to me.”
“In that case, you may be more messed up than I am.”
Cameron laughed. “You seem all right to me.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “Now I know you’re messed up.”
***
Craig was over the whole hiding in the bathroom routine.
“Cameron, you will open this door now,” he said, his voice cutting through her like a knife through butter.
She could hardly blame him. It was the third night in a row. She had opted to take a shower when she got back from the motel and one shower just kind of turned into two and then three, like she couldn’t quite get clean.
And there were the marks on her ass.
Jeezus, how would she explain that? What kind of research leaves welts?
“I’m going to count to three, then I will knock the fucker down.”
Her heart slammed in her chest. He would do it, too, or throw out his shoulder trying.
Honestly she had never seen him so worked up, at least not about her. He got this way with computer programs or when he was telling his family where to get off for interfering in his life.
They hadn’t liked Cameron from the beginning, thought she was too esoteric, not practical enough…or pretty enough.
That last one really got to Cameron.
“One…”
She unlocked the door just as he got to two.
Craig swung it open, still spoiling for a fight.
Cameron on the other hand felt the strength bleed away.
Oh, god, let him just expose me and get it over with…
Pu
shing past her he made a cursory search. “There must be something keeping you in here, what is it, drugs?”
She kept her back to him as he moved about the room like a prowling tiger.
Predictable, he became suspicious. “What don’t you want me to see?”
“Nothing…”
He grabbed her arm. It was like a shot of pure sex.
“You’re hurting me,” she lied.
“You’re full of shit,” he said.
She had a towel on, he ripped it off.
“Please, let me…” she said throatily.
He kept her on her feet. “Christ, Cameron, you think I want a blow job right now?”
She certainly wanted it, his cock shoved to the back of her throat, making her gag, treating her like the little slut she was. That was the only way out of this, the only hope of balancing the scales and keeping everything going.
“I’m sorry, baby…”
“So now you’re crying?” He spun her about. “Why are you covering your ass? Get your hands out of the way?”
Cameron put her hands to her sides, awaiting judgment.
Craig said nothing, the most damning attack of all.
“Let me explain…”
He shook his head. “We’re done. This…is done.”
“But you don’t even know what happened. You’re not even giving me a chance…”
He pointed to the door, very, very calm. “Pack your shit, Cameron. Just pack up and get out.”
She followed him to the kitchen. He was making coffee for more studying, like she was gone already, like he was just going to go on with her life and meanwhile she had nothing, no man, no center…no master.
“Get up,” he told her as she threw herself at his feet, sobbing. “Don’t make this any more of a shambles.”
“Let me explain,” she begged, clutching at his pant leg. “I didn’t cheat on you, I promise.”
“Well, whatever you did, it involved you being naked with someone, and how come you didn’t tell me you were doing a project on BDSM?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “How…how did you…?”
“How did I find out, you mean? I went to your teacher, told him we were having some issues. I was just looking for a referral to a counselor and that’s when he spilled the beans. Is that what’s going on, are you in over your head?”
Her silence was all he needed to hear.
“I am sorry, Cameron, I will be your friend, but you can’t just use me, damn it, when I think the other night, the way you were in bed that you were just living out some fantasy. I bet it’s the same way now. What am I in your head, some fucking pirate or biker lord while you kneel down there all wet and ready?”
Teach Me Tender, Teach Me Rough Page 7