|Disclaimer:||This one was a bit of an experiment. It is taken from a longer collaborative work which was never published anywhere. A friend wanted to try writing a bit of cyber-erotica with me, and because I wrote the “kink” portion, I decided to post it here. It’s a bit more BDSMish than Domestic Discipline, but still pretty mild for the genre (just because that’s how I’m bent *g*).|
|Background:||Adrianne Smith, a (supposedly) straight woman, goes to work for QL-Es Films. She doesn’t realize that: 1) It stands for Quintessentially Lesbian Films, which makes lesbian porn; 2) Nearly all the people working there are gay; and 3) She’ll find herself attracted to her sexy boss, Judith Franconi. She has a hard time adjusting to the idea, so decides to educate herself by looking at various videos of theirs.In this scene, Adrianne has just finished watching a film about three-way in a massage parlor, and is about to watch the next video she’s rented. The way I wrote the story, I wanted to move from the feeling of watching a film to being so engrossed you feel like you’re part of the action. I may or may not have been successful at this, but as I said, it was an experiment. *g* Oh, and it makes reference to videos instead of DVDs because it was written awhile back. And now, onto the smut!|
The Education of Adrianne Smith
With a trembling hand, Adrianne aimed the remote at the VCR and rewound the video. Her breathing was a touch ragged, and there was a definite ache developing down below. No way I’m watching that one again, she thought shakily. I’d never survive it. My notes’ll have to be from memory.
The last video was entitled “The Bet,” and the picture on the cover was of the silhouette of a woman. Though her face and body were in shadow, it was clear she wore thigh-high boots and carried a whip.
The obligatory S/M flick, Adrianne thought, wrinkling her nose. She rarely found them erotic – “masters” and “mistresses” dripping chains and leather, torture chambers and inflated women with their artificial screams. Still, if she was going to work in the industry she would no doubt be filming bondage videos as well. Better see what QL-Es had to offer.
The first thing she noticed was a trick of film-making she had never expected to find in an adult film: a voiceover. She sat up in surprise, noting that the director was Madison Carter, whom Judith had said was very gifted. The technique of opening with a narrator made the film seem very personal, Adrianne noted. It brought the viewer in right away, and made it feel like one was experiencing everything firsthand.
“I first met Rachel in a lesbian bar,” came the unseen narrator’s rather husky voice, as the camera panned the smoky and dark interior, “and first impressions were anything but positive. She and her friend were arguing over the finer points of bondage….which naturally piqued my interest immediately.”
Sitting at the bar were two young women, both appearing to be in their 20s. One had dark brown hair which fell in slight waves to her shoulders. Her companion had black hair cut very short, with a bright purple streak running down the middle. She was smoking on a cigarette and shaking her head in disgust.
“But why not?” the first woman was asking. “C’mon, Bobbie, you’re always talking about how hot it is! How come you won’t let me see for myself?”
Bobbie took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew it out in a snort. “You’re not serious about the scene, Rachel. You just want to write some exposé for that feminist dyke rag of yours!”
“I do want to do some photojournalistic research,” Rachel replied with dignity. “But it will be a respectful portrayal.”
“Respectful? You don’t even believe it’s normal!” Bobbie replied.
“That’s not true,” Rachel said. “I think you’re normal, don’t I? You’re just saying that because of my hypothesis that it’s linked to self-esteem issues.”
The narrator’s voice came on again, and now the camera slid to the left to show us who was speaking. Adrianne got a shock, as at first glance it looked like Judith Franconi. Her attractive employer? In a lesbian erotic film?! A second glance proved the similarities to be only superficial. The woman had the same dark hair and flashing dark eyes, and she wielded that same air of authority as Judith. But she appeared to be slightly older, with a voluptuous body where Judith was all lean athletic grace. She sat at the bar and sipped her drink, listening unobtrusively with an enigmatic smile on her face.
“Typical tourist,” was my thought (came the voiceover). As I listened to her explain to Bobbie that studies showed most people who enjoyed S/M had a history of physical or emotional abuse, I wanted to laugh. She was a confident young woman who had done her research and clearly thought that reading equaled knowledge, even where human sexuality was concerned. She had much to learn…..And oh, how I itched to teach her.
There was complete confidence in that husky voice, and Adrianne licked suddenly dry lips. As she watched, she became completely immersed in the story, till she swore she could feel every sensation along with the characters…every nuance of emotion…every thought echoing in their minds…..
“Just introduce me to someone,” Rachel was pleading now. “And I’ll take it from there. How about that woman you told me about…what was her name? Bear?”
Bobbie hooted. “Bear? She’d eat you alive! I’d never pick a top like that for your first time.”
Rachel grinned in protest. “Hey, I’m at least as tough as you are! Who beat you arm-wrestling last week, huh? I bet I can take anything she can dish out!”
Bobbie drank down the rest of her beer. “It has nothing to do with physical strength,” she said quietly. “You think I’m a pushover because I wear my keys on the right? I’ll bet you wouldn’t last 10 minutes with a domme! You don’t even like it when your boss gives you a deadline!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Rachel began in a puzzled tone, when their conversation was interrupted by the woman down the bar.
“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said politely. “And I think I may have the solution to your problem.”
Bobbie’s jaw dropped. “Mistress Veronica,” she said with a squeak, and looked as if she wanted to kneel at the older woman’s feet.
The answering smile was white in the dim light. “I was just going to introduce myself,” she assured them. “And your name is…?”
“I’m Bobbie, this is Rachel,” Bobbie said. “I attended the Halloween party you held at your home last month. It was fantastic!”
“Ah yes, I thought you looked familiar. A harem slave, wasn’t it?”
Bobbie blushed and nodded. Rachel glanced from her suddenly reverent friend to the mysterious woman, and back again. She bit back a laugh.
“You were saying something about having a solution to our problem?” Rachel prompted.
The woman turned considering eyes on her. “Yes, I was going to offer my services. You mentioned wanting to…gain some experience. I have some knowledge in the field you’re interested in.”
“You’re a dominatrix?”
The one Bobbie called Mistress Veronica smiled. “Some have called me that.”
“So you’re available for hire?”
Rachel sensed Bobbie’s flinch out of the corner of her eye. But the woman before her merely shrugged. “I’m not a professional, if that’s what you’re asking. My services are offered purely in the interest of….education.”
Rachel frowned, her manner suddenly less brash. “How do I know you’re not some nut?” she asked.
“Rachel!” Bobbie looked horrified, but Mistress Veronica laughed.
“Well, I believe your friend here can speak for me,” she replied in a low voice. “But it’s certainly up to you.” She retrieved a business card from her bag, jotted something on it and placed it on the bar. “This has my home address. Present yourself there at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow if you’re interested.” She held out a hand to Bobbie. “It was nice seeing you again, my dear.”
Bobbie kissed the back of it respectfully, as Rachel watched incredulously. After the woman had left, Bobbie turned to her friend in disbelief. “You must be the luckiest person in the world! An invitation from Mistress Veronica….do you know how many subs would give their hankies to be in your shoes?”
Rachel snorted. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t swoon at the honor. So I take it she’s well-known?”
Bobbie shook her head. “The most disgusting thing is you don’t even realize your good fortune. Mistress Veronica is one of the most highly skilled tops in L.A.! Believe me, Rachel, you couldn’t have a better domme for your first time.”
“Well, good. I’d hate to fool around with an amateur.”
Bobbie frowned. “If you think that cocky attitude is going to win points with Mistress Veronica, you’re in for trouble, Rach.”
“My intent isn’t to ‘win points,’ as you so crudely put it. I’m just interested in exploring a subject which has intrigued me for a long time.”
“Um-hm. I’ve always wondered about that.” Bobbie grinned with a touch of malice. “I’m looking forward to hearing about your…explorations, girlfriend. I’ll bet she has you changing your tune in a hurry! Be sure to call me on Saturday….if you can.” She left the bar with a laugh that was slightly too sinister for Rachel’s taste.
Friday night found Rachel standing outside of a classic Victorian home set well back from the street. In spite of her brash talk to Bobbie, she actually found herself a little bit nervous, and it was disconcerting.
Probably dangerous too, Rachel thought with a touch of humor. Since my defiant attitude seems to worsen when I’m nervous. A hesitant knock was answered immediately by an older woman wearing an apron.
“Is Mis— Is Veronica home?”
The woman didn’t blink. “Would you come in, please?”
Rachel was led to a large room which held a comfortable sofa and a roll top desk in the corner. A fire burned in the fireplace, warming the atmosphere, and an expensive-looking rug in rich shades of blue and lavender covered most of the hardwood floor. The only incongruous pieces of furniture in what was obviously the den were a rosewood dresser and a large standing mirror next to it.
“Please make yourself comfortable. The mistress will be with you soon.”
Rachel did a double-take, but realized the term could’ve easily been applied by any old-fashioned servant about the head of the household. It didn’t mean she was aware of the woman’s proclivities. Still, it was slightly disturbing.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to call her ‘Mistress,’ thought Rachel with a mental snort. That’s way too cliché for my taste.
Although Rachel had arrived later than the requested time of 8:00, her host did not appear right away. Probably wants to make an entrance, she thought cynically. While she waited she perused the large bookshelf against the wall. There was a surprising variety of literary classics, as well as the latest Patricia Cornwell mystery and the expected “Story of O” and Pat Califia books. Whatever else Mistress Veronica was, she was apparently well-read.
The woman herself entered the room at that moment, and Rachel knew a moment’s sense of disappointment. The leather bustier she was half expecting was nowhere to be seen. Mistress Veronica wore tight fitting jeans dyed midnight black, with a long sleeved shirt of ivory satin. Its open collar was unbuttoned to reveal an impressive cleavage. Her boots were black leather, but came to just above her ankle rather than thigh-high, as Rachel had hoped for. The whole effect was undeniably sensual, but more pirate-like than dominatrix, and surprisingly casual.
“Hello Rachel, I’m glad you decided to come,” her host began in that low voice. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I wouldn’t advise you to get too intoxicated, though,” she added, the only indication in her manner that this wasn’t an everyday visit.
“Why not?” Rachel asked, though she had no intention of consuming anything that would contribute to her losing control.
“You’ll enjoy the experience more if your senses are not dulled,” Veronica said simply. “Though maybe something small to help you relax?”
“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Rachel said quickly.
Veronica’s smile was amused. “Good, I’m glad.” She pressed an intercom on the desk and requested glasses of iced water with slices of lime. After the drinks had been brought in, she thanked the silver-haired servant and dismissed her for the evening. She sat down next to Rachel on the couch, and began in a conversational tone.
“From what I overheard the other evening, I got the impression that you wished to experience a scene for research purposes. Is that an accurate assessment?”
Rachel sipped her water. “Yes, I suppose that describes things pretty well.”
“And no personal interest in this for you at all?”
“Uh….” The question was unexpected and Rachel blinked. “I don’t….why, does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” Veronica smiled. “I like to learn a little bit about the women I play with. It helps, you see.”
“It helps? With creating the…you call it a `scene,’ right?” Rachel leaned forward in interest. “Do you mind if I take notes?”
“There will be no note-taking during our play,” Veronica said. “You’ll have to write from memory, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Well, I can do that. That’s no problem. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“No,” Veronica said pleasantly. “Although I’ll be asking you some.”
Rachel frowned. “But why not? I’ll keep your identity confidential, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Veronica shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t understand the drill, sweetheart. You’ve come to me to provide you with something you need. To receive it, you will relinquish the right to direct what happens tonight.”
There was silence as Rachel took that in. “And if I’m not comfortable with that?”
“Then you and I part company, senza rancor – no bad feelings. But if you stay, you will submit to my direction.”
“Don’t I even get a safeword?” Rachel asked faintly.
“A safeword is mandatory,” Veronica agreed with a smile. “Does that ease your mind a bit?”
“One more thing,” Rachel said. “What do I call you?”
The older woman smiled. “What would you like to call me?”
“Well, I figured you’d tell me that,” Rachel shrugged. “But I’m not crazy about the ‘mistress’ designation.”
“You haven’t earned the right to call me that,” the domme replied smoothly. “Why don’t we just stick to Veronica?” Inwardly she chuckled to herself. The poor girl obviously thought power was somehow tied to a title, but she would soon realize the truth. “So, are we agreed?”
Well, this is it, Rachel thought ruefully. It’s play or pay time. “All right. Agreed,” she said out loud, relieved to hear the steadiness of her voice.
“Good. And your safeword is? Make it something you won’t forget, but are not likely to utter in the heat of the moment, like ‘stop’ or ‘don’t,” Veronica advised.
“Um…how about ‘time-out’?” Rachel suggested, her basketball background coming to the fore.
“That’ll be fine,” Veronica said. She sat forward on the sofa and put down her glass. “Shall we begin?”
“All right,” Rachel agreed, putting down her own glass and feeling suddenly nervous.
“Once we begin, I will continue until the end. If there is something you don’t like, you may use your safeword and I will stop. We can then discuss it. If we don’t come to an agreement, the scene will end. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, fighting the urge to back out.
“Come kneel before me.”
Rachel did so immediately, and Veronica drew her between her knees.
“Tell me, are there any health issues I should know about?” As she spoke, Veronica traced the line of Rachel’s chin lightly, eyes running over her face with appreciation. She brushed back the hair from her face, then those long fingers descended to Rachel’s blouse. She began slowly to unbutton it.
“N-no, none that I know of,” Rachel said.
“Good.” She drew the edges of Rachel’s blouse apart slowly, smiling at the black lace bra that was revealed. “Very nice,” she pronounced, looking both at the lingerie and the treasures they hid. “I’m going to ask you about specific acts, and I want you to let me know if they turn you on at all,” she said. “Turn around.”
Rachel did so, and Veronica unhooked her bra. “Face me again. Now….have you ever been restrained in any way?”
Rachel found the woman’s low voice nearly mesmerizing, and though she blushed fiercely over some of the questions, she answered them without hesitation. As she spoke, Veronica was slowly tracing the line of Rachel’s collarbones, the curve of her breasts, down her ribs. It was done more in an appraising fashion than anything else, but Rachel could feel herself becoming aroused. She hadn’t counted on this sort of foreplay from a dominatrix.
“Tell me about your last girlfriend,” Veronica instructed next. “But first stand up.”
Rachel did so, and Veronica proceeded to unsnap and unzip her slacks. She drew them down slowly, running her palms down along Rachel’s hips and thighs as she did so. She reached up to cup the cheeks of her bottom, squeezing firmly, causing Rachel to stutter in her narrative. As Rachel related the story of the last fight before she and Julie had broken up, Veronica inserted a single finger into the waistband of her lace bikini panty and ran it slowly back and forth.
“It sounds a bit as if you were used to getting your own way,” she said, looking directly into Rachel’s eyes.
Embarrassed, Rachel dropped her eyes and murmured something in response.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you,” Veronica said.
“I said, ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true,'” Rachel repeated uncomfortably, steeling herself not to move as Veronica slowly drew her underwear down and off.
The domme clicked her tongue reprovingly. “Too bad I didn’t know Julie. I could’ve suggested some tips to improve your behavior. Kneel down, please.”
Rachel mentally gave her hostess full marks for setting up the scene. She had underestimated the powerful effect that being nude in front of someone who was completely dressed could have. She suddenly felt very vulnerable. Veronica placed a hand on the back of Rachel’s neck and pulled her gently forward, till she was on all fours. “Do I have your complete attention?” she asked softly.
“Yes….” Rachel breathed, very aware of the warmth of those fingers at the nape of her neck.
“Good. Behind you about 12 feet away is a dresser. In the very bottom drawer, there are two items, which I would like you to retrieve and bring back to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, respiration increasing in spite of herself.
“One last thing: you will go over there on your hands and knees, and you will bring back the items in your mouth.”
“Oh, wait a minute, time out!” Rachel sat up suddenly in shock.
Veronica leaned back on the sofa. “Yes?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“You’re going to sit there and—” Rachel broke off, unable to continue at the thought of just how humiliating it would feel to crawl along the floor while this woman observed her.
“And enjoy the view? Yes, indeed,” Veronica drawled, watching in amusement the flush which was spreading over most of Rachel’s body. “Is there a problem?”
“God, I’d hate that!” Rachel frowned.
“Very well,” Veronica’s tone was brisk. “Then I suggest you get dressed and write your article based on what you’ve read instead.”
“Now hang on,” Rachel said slowly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it…give me some time to get used to the idea!”
“My dear, if this request is going to cause you that much conflict, then perhaps you’d better rethink the whole idea,” Veronica said, though her expression was not unkind. “Because frankly, we’ve barely begun!”
One could almost hear Rachel’s mutinous thoughts in the silence that followed.
“All right, all right…..I’ll do it,” Rachel said at last, lifting her chin. She was damned if she was going to back out before experiencing any real action. She took a deep breath and began crawling toward the dresser, knowing she was blushing from the tips of her ears down to her toes. She tried not to think at what she must be revealing as she made her way across the floor.
She opened the drawer with apprehension, and was somewhat relieved to find a pair of black leather cuffs. This was more along the lines of what she’d expected. She carried them back in her mouth as instructed, enjoying the scent of fine leather in spite of her predicament.
She was instructed to kneel once again before Veronica, and place her forearm, palm downward, in the domme’s lap. Veronica wrapped the cuff around her wrist and began lacing it up. The leather was buttery-soft and did not bind or pinch in any way. A stainless steel ring in the shape of a “D” was attached to each cuff at the inside wrist.
“These are my favorite pair of cuffs,” Veronica was saying. “Do you like them?”
“Um…I guess,” Rachel answered, unable look away as her second wrist was securely encased in black leather.
“They look good on you,” Veronica observed, causing Rachel to shift uncomfortably. “Now I’d like you to go to the dresser and bring back what you find in the second drawer from the bottom.” She didn’t repeat her instructions about crawling and using her mouth, but Rachel knew what was expected by now. She made her way back to the dresser and opened the drawer. Then froze.
“Is something wrong?” Veronica asked, when Rachel didn’t move.
“No,” Rachel whispered, swallowing. There was a riding crop in the drawer, but it was the second item which held Rachel’s attention. A collar.
Made of the same pliable leather as the cuffs, the collar was lined with suede and looked almost like a piece of jewelry. Set with dark red stones, a small D-ring and silver buckle, it was much prettier than the usual S/M equipment Rachel had seen in magazines and sex shops. But its purpose was unmistakable.
Back on the sofa Veronica smiled to herself. She had judged the girl well. Careful observation and a few pertinent questions had established Rachel as the sort who was proud of her independence. But her interest in the scene also revealed hidden desires, and Veronica knew that struggling with those contradictory impulses would prove the hardest thing for her. She had predicted that being torn between the urges to fight and submit would put the girl into delicious confusion, and she had been right. Sometimes it was the simple things which would trigger a bottom’s humiliation factor, and those were the most rewarding.
“I’m waiting,” Veronica reminded her. Her voice was still soft, but inexorable.
Setting her jaw, Rachel picked up the collar and crop and took them back between her teeth. Veronica noted the teeth marks in the leather which had no doubt been purposefully inflicted, but she decided to overlook this little show of defiance…for now. She fastened the collar carefully around Rachel’s neck, snug but not tight. Rachel closed her eyes, trying to ignore the feel of the collar against the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Very nice,” Veronica said again. “Would you like to look at yourself in the mirror?”
“No thanks,” Rachel drawled. “I probably look just like any of your other pets.”
The slap that followed was unexpected and Rachel gasped. It had been quick and light, but now that it was over the stinging in her cheek turned into a tingle, and then into warmth. She put her hand over the spot and raised shocked eyes to the woman across from her.
“That was rude,” Veronica said reprovingly. She looked more disappointed than angry.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel murmured, ashamed at the sudden wetness between her legs.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” Veronica replied with a touch of satisfaction. “Stand up and go look at yourself in the mirror…my pet.”
Rachel did as she was told, blushing fiercely at the sight of her naked body, with its bands of black leather, displayed so wantonly. The pink fingermarks on her cheek didn’t help, either.
“Time to go,” Veronica said, rising from the sofa. She picked up a leash which Rachel had not noticed earlier and motioned the girl closer.
“Go? Go where?” Rachel asked in confusion.
“To the bedroom, my sweet.” She attached the leash to Rachel’s collar and headed for the door. Rachel followed, stumbling a bit, but stopped short at the door. What about the servant who works here? she wondered in horror.
Veronica raised her eyebrows at the hesitation. “A collar usually ensures more tractability,” she observed. “Perhaps a blindfold would help.”
Rachel took a step back. “No, no, that’s not necessary,” she said hastily. “But…the woman who served us earlier….”
“Greta would be happy to hold the leash,” Veronica said. “Shall I summon her?”
“No, please!” Rachel’s voice was panicked.
“Then I suggest you come along with no more fuss.” The domme’s voice had an edge to it now, and the crop in her hand descended to tap against her calf impatiently.
Chastened, Rachel stepped through the door quickly. Fortunately, Greta was no where to be found.
She was led down the hall and through another door. A large bed dominated the room, looking oddly conventional with fresh white cotton sheets and piled with pillows. Then Rachel noticed that the pillows were arranged in the middle, and that there were restraints at all four corners of the bed.
“Up you go,” Veronica said, her voice once again good-humored. “Face down, please.”
Rachel glanced at her but didn’t dream of disobeying. She had already mentally rewritten the portion of her article that dealt with a domme’s intimidating demeanor. The wielding of power was a far more subtle practice than she had imagined, and she was no longer so sure of her views on the matter.
She climbed onto the bed and stretched out, trying not to pull back as Veronica attached quick-release snaps to the rings in her cuffs. Two more cuffs were attached with Velcro around her ankles. She pulled on the restraints experimentally…they held fast. A couple of pillows under her midsection kept her hips raised, but she was not uncomfortable.
She could hear movement behind her, and then the scrape of a match and the smell of wax burning told her that Veronica had lit some candles. Immediately afterwards the lights were lowered. The bed gave slightly as the older woman sat down next to her, on her right side. She ran a hand up Rachel’s outstretched arm, and massaged her shoulder leisurely.
“You have wonderful skin,” she murmured. “And quite fair, for your coloring.” She drew her fingernails lightly up Rachel’s back and watched as goosebumps appeared. Then she reached under Rachel’s body and cupped her right breast, plumping it and squeezing slightly. Rachel closed her eyes as she felt her nipple harden in response. One fingertip traced round and round that stiffened nub, till finally it was taken between thumb and forefinger and squeezed slightly.
Rachel gasped at the electric charge which followed.
Veronica stood and picked up the riding crop. “You were late this evening,” she stated, as she ran the tip of the crop slowly down Rachel’s spine.
“Yes, but…it wasn’t as if you were waiting for me,” Rachel protested, her muscles twitching involuntarily. “You were late yourself!”
“Oh, but I was indeed waiting for you, my pet. Counting the minutes, in fact.”
Rachel didn’t like the sound of that.
“Can you guess just how many minutes you were late?” Veronica asked. The tip of the riding crop was now tickling the base of Rachel’s spine, and she could barely think as she followed its slow progress even lower.
“Uh…Five?” she asked hoarsely.
“No, guess again.” The length of stiff leather grazed the hill of her buttocks, and continued slowly down the backs of her thighs.
“A full fifteen minutes,” Veronica reported. The crop had descended past Rachel’s calves and was now tapping, in five-second intervals, on the sensitive soles of her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, her mouth dry.
“We’re always sorry when we get caught,” Veronica replied. “And your apology is noted. However, your rudeness must still be paid for.” The tapping against her feet stopped, and the crop began creeping up Rachel’s legs once more. “Since I had to count the minutes, so will you,” Veronica said.
I had a feeling you’d say that, Rachel’s unwise inner voice answered, with a half hysterical giggle. But she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
“You will count the strokes aloud, and thank me after each one.”
Rachel swallowed and nodded, eyes closed.
“I didn’t hear you.” Sternly.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I understand,” Rachel said hastily.
“You may begin.”
Rachel bit her lip, feeling a sudden frisson of fear like a current beneath her skin. I must be nuts, she thought in dismay. I’m completely helpless and at the mercy of a total stranger. She searched quickly for her safeword.
Veronica noted the sudden rigidity of Rachel’s form and correctly diagnosed her panic. The sub needed to get out of her head and back into her body for a moment. She grasped a handful of hair near the girl’s scalp and pulled back slightly, holding her head firmly. Rachel gasped.
Veronica leaned down to whisper into her ear. “My sweet, you are ready for this. You are ready for me,” she murmured reassuringly. She lay the crop down across the small of Rachel’s back, then reached to lightly touch her between her outspread legs. Rachel jumped, thighs instinctively seeking to close, muscles pulling against the restraints which held her wide open. She was immediately made aware of her soaked state, and groaned.
“Ohh….yess,” she said, fear fading in the onslaught of arousal.
“Yes,” Veronica agreed, picking up the crop once again and stepping back. “Count, please.”
At the first vibration of Rachel’s voice she brought the crop down, high on the girl’s buttocks. The stroke was just medium-hard, as would be the majority of them, but to the inexperienced Rachel it was a line of fire across her skin.
“Oh god, that hurts!” she cried, surprised and outraged at the sudden awful sting. Veronica’s chuckle was reassuring. I guess it’s supposed to, Rachel thought, slightly relieved to finally experience the reality of it, then marveling at how the pain was already receding as a rush of blood took its place. There was an expectant silence, and Rachel quickly gathered her thoughts. “Um…thank you,” she said, flushing.
“You’re welcome,” Veronica said serenely. “Continue.”
The second stroke was slightly lower, and the third lower still. Veronica watched as Rachel’s fair skin responded in perfectly spaced and parallel stripes. Her counting and thank you’s were getting progressively throatier and more distracted-sounding as the strokes mounted, and the domme knew the girl was entering that headspace where time and space and pain and arousal melded together.
Veronica was careful to pace things slowly, to give each stroke time to sink in, to maximize the burn that blooms in the wake of each lash-mark. Her position on Rachel’s right allowed for a smooth right-hand swing, with a backhanded twist when needed. It also made it easy to occasionally run her left palm over the girl’s reddened buttocks, enjoying the heat and the way they contracted involuntarily, sensitive to the slightest touch.
By the time she had reached number ten, Rachel was having difficulty keeping track of the count. A rush of feeling followed each slap of the crop, the smarting bite of the leather somehow transformed into licks of flame, transformed into an aching deep inside. She was unaware that her labored breaths were ending in gasps of pleasure, that her hips were rising in rhythm to the crop. She only knew she was flying.
The strokes number thirteen and fourteen fell on her inner thighs, first right, then left. The pain here was different, the skin more sensitive. But it focused her attention even more clearly on the throbbing flesh in between, and suddenly she was grinding her mons into the pillows, needing to ease the burning somehow.
“Just one more stroke, my pet,” Veronica was saying. She had put the crop down and was pulling a latex glove onto her left hand. “I’m going to give you one more, and it will be the hardest one of all. It will leave a welt right where you sit, a reminder of our time together. You will think of me often over the next few days.” She picked up the crop. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes,” Rachel was nearly incoherent with excitement, apprehension, and the need for release. “Oh…please!”
The last stroke was administered with a sharp snap of her wrist. Rachel jumped and shrieked, and Veronica entered her with three fingers and held them in her hard as she came again and again, sobbing out a climax that brought her close to unconsciousness.
As Rachel regained her senses, she became aware of a gentle stroking of her hair, her back, her bottom. She also still felt incredibly, wonderfully full. She wriggled her hips in pleasure, which caused Veronica to chuckle once again.
“I’m going to leave you now, my pet.”
The Rachel of old might’ve protested and pouted. This Rachel’s “Yes, Veronica,” was very soft and subdued. Though she did sigh as Veronica eased out of her.
“I’m going to release your bindings, as I don’t want you tied up for too long….your body’s not used to it. But I want you to remain in position where you are, okay? I’m going to rub some arnica on you to help with the bruising.”
“Will there be bruises?” Rachel asked, in a bemused and drifting fashion.
“Mmm, probably not. I was very cautious for your first time. But it pleases me to perform this act, so you will oblige me.”
“Yes, Veronica,” Rachel said again, and the domme had to restrain a smile over the suddenly obedient woman before her.
“I think, my dear….that you owe your friend Bobbie…a heartfelt apology.”
“Yes, Veronica,” Rachel said demurely. And she even joined in on the laughter that followed.
The End (for now? *vbg*)