by Emily Tilton
“Sally,” Master Eric’s voice said, the impatience sending a shiver down her spine. “Do as you’re told or you’ll get the strap again the next time you see Judy.”
Sally’s left hand went straight to her neck, as if the impression the collar had left there might still meet her touch. As she straightened up she felt the soreness of her bottom, bare again now, from the first whipping of her life. Almost unconsciously, she put her right hand back there, half to soothe and half to protect.
“The next time?” she asked, her eyes fixed again on the black box.
“How do you address your master, Sally?” The voice sounded so severe that she jumped, and almost without realizing it she moved her hands to the button at her neck.
“The next time, sir?” she tried again.
“You have a standing appointment now, Sally. You’ll go to the day spa every week until you’re ready for me.”
Sally’s lips parted and her breath got very short. Her fingers fumbled with the button.
“Get the blouse off, sweetheart,” Master Eric said. “I want you naked right now.”
Every week... ready for me...
New You.
She glanced nervously at the clock on her bedside table as the button on her blouse finally came undone. 5:15. In fifteen minutes she would have to meet with Rhonda, and she would have to seem perfectly calm. She could tell Rhonda already suspected Sally hadn’t told her something. Sally pulled the blouse off over her head and laid it on top of the jacket.
“Good girl,” Master Eric said. “You look lovely with your pussy bare. Judy does a very good job. Did you like getting fucked with such a big cock?”
“Oh, please,” Sally whispered, feeling her hips twitch at the words and at the memory. She reached out for the black box, wanting to get it over with.
“Not yet, Sally,” the voice from the phone said sharply. “Answer your master’s question. I had you fucked this morning, and you haven’t thanked me for allowing you to have a hard cock where a girl like you needs it the most.”
Sally closed her eyes. “Please,” she breathed. “Please... sir, I... I can’t.”
“No, sweetheart,” Master Eric replied. “You don’t want to. How did you like your fucking?”
“Please,” Sally tried again. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock. 5:16. “Oh, God... I... I liked it, sir.”
I’m telling him what he wants to hear. I’m not telling the truth. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it.
“Now thank me.” Something in the voice seemed to tell Sally that he understood it all—that her master knew that she had pretended to speak a lie, but had actually, to her mortification, spoken the truth.
“Thank you, sir,” she mumbled.
“For what, Sally?” Now the voice sounded almost amused.
“For... Oh, God.” She had clenched, down there again.
Dammit.
Now she tried to get the words out as quickly and as matter-of-factly as she could.
“For having me fucked.”
A chuckle came from the phone on the bed. “Good enough for the moment, dirty girl. You may open your present.”
Sally’s hands froze, though, as she reached for the box. She had to force them forward. Present. Her heart pounded.
The lid slid off easily. Inside were two compartments: one held an assortment of bras and panties, all of them clearly very tiny and very lacy, along with what must be a lacy white garter belt, suspenders, and stockings. The other, smaller compartment held something made out of black silicone, in a shape that Sally couldn’t recognize.
“Take it out, Sally. You’re going to wear it from now on.”
She felt her forehead crease deeply. She had no idea how it could be worn, the little thing, but the thought that she would have to, anyway, made her bite her lip as she lifted it out of the plastic in which it nestled.
It fit easily on her palm. It had a sharp bend, the silicon being thicker on one side of the bend than on the other. Suddenly her face flared with heat, her lips parted, and her eyes got wide.
“There’s my dirty girl,” her master said. “You figured it out. Put it on now, and then put on the white panties. There’s lube in the box, but I don’t think you’re going to need it right now.”
Sally had never used a sex toy. She looked at the clock. 5:20.
It’s the blackmail. I don’t have a choice and I need to get it over with, so I can figure out how to free myself. I’m playing along.
She took the thing in her right hand, and she lowered the hand between her legs. Her face felt like a blazing bonfire, but when she touched the thicker end of the toy, with its rounded tip, to her sensitive inner lips, she couldn’t suppress a shameful whimper of need.
Her master had spoken the truth: Sally needed no extra lubrication to slip the device inside, where Vic’s enormous cock had entered that morning, so big that it had made her feel like she had undergone a second defloration. The toy had much less girth, but the curve of it made her whimper again, because of how it touched her inside, at the place she had always heard didn’t actually exist.
Stooping over, she finished inserting the thing, took her hand away, and began to straighten up, but then she cried out because it had begun to vibrate inside her and, through the slender part whose tip rested on her clit, outside her too.
“Oh, no,” she gasped. She put her hands on the bed, still bent over a little, her hips moving in invitation as if her master stood behind her ready to put his cock in her virgin bottom.
“Put your panties on, Sally,” the voice from the phone said.
But she couldn’t: she could only bend further, grasping the purple comforter, closing her eyes, working her hips over the phantom cock. She felt too good, too needy, too dirty.
“I gave you an order,” Master Eric said, and suddenly, along with the vibration of the toy inside her she felt from the front part a shock to her clit. As she cried out in mingled pain, shame, and arousal, she understood what Judy had meant: at New You, she wore the shock collar and received Vic’s big cock in her pussy; here at home, she would wear this device that could both reward her and punish her.
With trembling fingers, she took the lacy white thong panties from the box. The shock went away, and she sobbed in relief, but the pleasure inside her made her body shudder as she managed to get the sexy panties on, their innocent whiteness a stark contrast with the slender black probe that emerged from her pussy to touch her clit.
“You’re going to come, now,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “Then you may get dressed.”
Chapter Fourteen
Eric turned the vibrator up three notches. Sally’s body responded instantaneously, straightening and twisting, her hands scrabbling at the comforter and her knees buckling. Little sounds of need and pleasure came from her chest as she found herself so off balance that she had to sink to her knees beside her bed.
Eric eased the device down to its lowest level, where it did nothing but make a girl continuously aware of its presence, while keeping her both horny and terribly frustrated for as long as her master wanted. He zoomed his virtual camera in on Sally’s hands, to verify that he had found the setting he wanted, and saw what he had hoped to see: they hovered in front of her midsection, just a few inches from the white lace of the thong’s front panel, where an observant eye could detect a naughty hint of the black probe that emerged from Sally’s pink pussy lips. More important, the young governor’s hands clenched and unclenched desperately.
At the same time, her hips moved in little jerks, showing him just how effectively the stimulation of her clit and g-spot could control the chief executive of the state of Madison. On the biometric feed from her perineal sensor, her arousal stood at 10.
“Get on all fours, Sally,” he said. “Just like last night. Bottom up, knees spread. Show me what belongs to me.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please, sir... don’t...” The yellow line of her defiance, as measured by ski
n galvanics, crept upward.
He typed a quick chat message to Nora: Okay to discipline her? The use of the vaginal controller, unlike more conventional means of imposing consequences for disobedience like the strap, carried complexities that only an assessor had the skill to analyze fully. The initial jolt he had given her a minute before had only made Sally aware of what the device she must now wear could do. Now the time had come to put its power into effect.
Nora replied two seconds later, Yes. Level 2.
Eric nodded to himself and raised the setting on the right side of the app on his phone, which controlled the electrode in the probe. He pressed the button, then released it.
Sally cried out, and all her resistance vanished, the yellow line sinking on Eric’s screen as in the video window the girl instantly moved to obey his command.
“Please... no... please,” she sobbed as she got to her elbows, arching her back to present her backside, clad in the pretty panties, to her unseen master.
“Good girl,” Eric said, and turned the vibrator up.
The 10 on his screen flashed, and the pre-orgasm alert sounded. Sally’s bottom bounced up and down and a whimpering sound came from her throat.
“You look so sweet in your new panties, sweetheart,” Eric told her in a gentle, patronizing voice. “You have a pair for every day of the week, to wear when you’re allowed them. You have nice bras to match, and a garter belt for special occasions. You won’t wear pants anymore, either, after today.”
He had timed his little lesson so that Sally’s orgasm would start just as she heard that she would no longer be permitted the garment that had in part defined her political image, but which of course as a repressed submissive she felt a very complex mix of emotions. Her hips bucked and her backside moved in lewd imitation of a girl getting a hard fucking. Through the lace of the panties, in a thrilling close-up from the perspective of the floor between Sally’s knees, Eric could see the sweet pink lips of her needy pussy, lasciviously claimed by her new controller.
He turned the vibrator off. Sally let out a little sob of need, and the motions of her body stilled. The infrared temperature map of the room in the lower left of Eric’s screen showed that her face had just bloomed with shame at her wicked pleasure on the floor like an animal in heat.
“All you have to do,” he told her, “is tell anyone who asks that the federal government is taking care of St. Hillary Island.”
He watched a deep frown come onto her face. “Rhonda will know that isn’t true.”
“Tell her anyway, then leave it to us.”
“But—”
“Don’t talk back, Sally,” Eric said, making his voice severe. “You still have a good deal to learn about obedience.”
“Oh, please... no... sir...”
Her response showed how well she had started to absorb the lessons of her training so far, but to spare her the consequences of her careless speech would take her in the wrong direction. Eric pressed the button that gave her clit a level two shock and held it for three seconds. Sally cried out, her bottom working in discomfort just as lewdly as it had worked in forced pleasure.
“Thank me for your discipline, sweetheart,” he said after he had lifted his finger.
Sally hung her head to the floor and sobbed.
“Thank me, Sally,” he repeated, returning the edge to his tone that Sally had already learned meant she would soon feel the consequences of disobedience.
“Thank you, sir!” she said in a terrified voice.
“You’re welcome, Sally,” Eric said. “Now get dressed. You may wear a bra. Your controller is to be worn at all times, except when you take it out to wash it, which you will do after you go to the bathroom. Listen carefully, now, so that you don’t get punished later. I said after you go to the bathroom.”
Sally’s face twisted from side to side on the carpet as she shook her head. She whispered, “Oh, no.”
“You may wear the underwear Judy gave you from now on this week, unless I instruct you differently. You may not wear any other underwear.”
Sally rose up a little on her elbows. “What about the gym, and running?” she asked desperately. The governor of Madison had developed a well-earned reputation as an avid fitness advocate.
“You’ll wear a running skirt with nothing under it and a t-shirt. You don’t need a sports bra.”
He zoomed in on her face and saw her work very hard to keep herself from talking back, even as the warmth in her face blossomed still further at the humiliating thought.
“Now get up and get to your meeting with Rhonda.”
* * *
Two minutes later Sally entered her office, her face still very warm and her hair a little disheveled, but all her clothes back in place. Rhonda had taken a seat on the couch where she usually occupied the corner closest to the chair where Sally sat for these meetings. Eric saw Sally glance nervously at the patch of carpet in front of her chief of staff: the great seal where she had been made to kneel, naked, and then to offer her anus to her new master.
He also saw Rhonda pick up on the glance, a frown crossing the face of the dark-haired chief of staff. Rhonda had of course no idea what had caused her friend, boss, and protégée suddenly to begin behaving erratically, and Eric could see how very fast the woman had begun to think.
Exactly how we want it.
“So tomorrow,” the chief of staff started as soon as Sally had sat down, “you’ve got the fun run downtown.” Rhonda glanced up from her tablet into Sally’s face, clearly trying both to pretend nothing unusual had taken place. She saw a crimson blush on the governor’s cheeks.
Eric, having anticipated precisely this exchange, had the app for the controller ready.
“What?” Rhonda asked.
Eric started the vibrator at the lowest level, zooming in on Sally’s face with his virtual camera. She swallowed hard, and her forehead creased.
“I... I don’t think...”
Eric pressed the shock button, also at the lowest level, for just an instant. Sally’s chin moved from side to side, and she bit her lip, the frown on her face deepening.
Rhonda, in split screen, looked at her boss with a worried expression. “Is this about your spa thing?”
Sally sucked her lips between her teeth and nodded.
“I don’t think I can...”
Eric shocked her again, one level higher—not enough to cause real pain, but sufficient to make Sally straighten up in discomfort.
A chat came in from Nora: Easy there.
But the stimulus worked perfectly. Trying to distract Rhonda from the wayward movements of her body and the blush on her cheeks, Sally cocked her head to the side as if responding to a counterpoint from another part of her mind, and said, “You know, sure. Just a fun run. I’ll wear my running skirt—see if I can make the trend happen.”
Sally Donaldson’s political instincts had taken hold now, and the pleasant demeanor she could force with very little effort now seemed to allay some of Rhonda’s concern. More to the point, the mention of the running skirt, which Nora’s assessment team had picked up on a recent invoice but which Sally had apparently bought on a whim and never worn, had clearly piqued the chief of staff’s interest—though in a way that Rhonda didn’t want Sally to know about.
“Okay, good,” Rhonda said.
The vibrator inside Sally’s pussy, underneath the lacy thong that very obviously felt strange and new on the bare cleft and in the newly waxed valley between her bottom-cheeks, still going, made her squirm in her chair, now. She shifted and stretched to hide it, glancing out the picture window at the beautiful view down the still-snowy hillside of newly christened Governor’s Park toward the commercial district of her capital. Spring had just begun to warm this northern region, and many of the runners the next day would still wear tights or sweatpants.
Not the governor, Eric thought as he observed the red tinge come and go in her cheeks.
Rhonda went through the rest of the docket, still keepin
g a sharp eye on Sally, who managed to keep her body still though her mouth twitched adorably several times as she listened to updates on the budget and appropriations process, the fundraising for her reelection campaign, and the status of her healthcare initiative. A close-up of the young governor’s hands, which she had placed firmly on her knees, showed a certain twitching that Eric attributed to the 9 at the upper right of his screen.
“That just leaves the St. Hillary Island thing,” Rhonda said. “Did you hear back from Greg Simas in Environmental Affairs?”
Eric smiled. Rhonda had no reason to suspect that the rumors concerning building on St. Hillary Island had anything to do with her plans for the state of Madison and for its governor. Sally’s demeanor, however—the way she started at the name of the island, for starters, and the way she shifted in her armchair—made the chief of staff frown again. On Rhonda’s face Eric could see all the suspicion return.
“Oh, I got word from Washington that they’ll be taking care of it at the federal level.”
Rhonda’s brows knit even further together at this practically nonsensical answer. Eric dialed up the vibrator inside Sally’s pussy one notch, and the governor let out a sharp puff of air through her nostrils.
“What does that mean?” the chief of staff asked.
Sally faked a laugh with reasonable success. “I don’t even know,” she said. “But I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
Eric raised the vibration one more level—as high as he could send it without danger of Rhonda hearing an unexpected sound coming from between her friend’s thighs.
“Not even with me?” the chief of staff asked, very obviously—to Eric anyway—trying to conceal her suspicion under a jocular expression.
“Not even with you,” Sally confirmed, lifting her hands in a shrug that seemed to cost her more effort than it should, given the way her hands shook.
“Alright,” Rhonda said, cocking her head a little to the side. “That’s it. Dinner?” The two had dinner together most nights when Sally didn’t have to be at a function, usually in the little breakfast room of the mansion.
