by John Argus
Again he slapped her bottom. ‘Do you want me to lick you again, Zoe?’ His fingers pumped swiftly in and out of her, and she groaned each time they drove deep inside and his knuckles wedged against her. ‘Do you? Just whisper it, Zoe.’
‘Yes, please,’ she breathed.
He spanked her again. ‘Say it,’ he commanded.
‘Yes…’ she gulped.
Yet again he smacked her buttocks. ‘Say it.’
‘Lick me,’ she begged in a choked voice, muffled by the dress.
‘That’s not the way to ask for something,’ he reprimanded, twisting his fingers.
‘Please,’ she sobbed, ‘please lick me, sir!’
‘Much better,’ he said approvingly.
Her face glowed beneath the dress but she rolled her head back in ecstasy as his tongue circled her swollen, throbbing clitoris. ‘Where do you want me to lick you, Zoe?’ he teased her cruelly.
‘My pussy,’ she breathed, knowing there was no going back now.
He smacked her bottom. ‘Do not forget your manners,’ he chided. ‘Say “please sir”.’
‘Please, sir!’
‘Please sir what?’
‘Please, sir, lick my pussy!’ Her sluttish begging made her cringe with embarrassment, even as she moaned when he spanked her again.
‘You’re a naughty girl, Zoe,’ he said disapprovingly, but then his tongue circled her clitoris again, twirling closer and closer before raking softly across it, causing her to writhe and groan and arch her back. She felt his hands cupping her bottom and raising it upwards, his mouth opening wider, devouring her, licking and chewing and sucking as her pleasure soared to almost unbearable heights. She gulped in air beneath her stifling dress as a firestorm of sensory joy possessed her, and began bucking wildly and uncontrollably against his tongue and his fingers, crying out in delirious ecstasy as her body was wracked by a series of orgasmic convulsions. The pleasure went on and on, consuming her body and mind before it reached a final devastating peak, and began ebbing away slowly.
She slumped weakly in the chair, a profound languor filling her with a wonderful sense of fulfilment and peace, in which there was not the slightest trace of guilt or shame.
Chapter Six
Zoe blinked dizzily as her dress was lifted up away from her head. It pulled her hair up with it, which then tumbled down around her dreamy face, the ponytail no longer in existence. She stared at Mr Erasmus, and then down at herself, a flush of guilt returning. She pulled instinctively against the bonds holding her legs apart, and then stared at them in confusion as her scattered wits returned and she realised they were bound in place, as were her arms. This was something decidedly new and confusing. She stared at him for a moment, but then found she could not bear to meet his eyes any longer with her body so lewdly on display.
‘Lovely Zoe,’ he whispered.
He must untie her now, of course, so she waited for him to do so, her face red and her eyes downcast.
‘Don’t be embarrassed, lovely Zoe.’ He caressed her thighs soothingly. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘But I’m so… bad,’ she breathed, pouting sullenly.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘you are.’
She blinked up at him, for she had been sure he would comfort her by disagreeing.
‘You’re a wonderfully pretty, adorably sweet, little slut,’ he elaborated with a gentle smile.
Slut? She gaped at him, her arms tugging indignantly at the bonds.
‘Think about it, Zoe,’ he went on. ‘Think about how wonderful it would be to let yourself be one of those wild, wanton women lusted after by every man who comes near her, admired and envied by so many other women.’ He bent over and slipped his hands beneath her glowing buttocks, lifting them slightly.
For the first time she could see him, could actually watch as his face pushed in against her sex. She gasped, wanting to tell him to stop as she observed his tongue licking around her moist opening. Her wrists and legs jerked helplessly, and she moaned aloud. She was a prisoner. She was his prisoner, his helpless prisoner, naked and bound… she thought of the pictures, the cards she had been receiving in the post, and imagining herself as one of those captive women a fresh flood of arousal overwhelmed all her reservations. She stared at him, her eyes wide as she watched every lewd movement of his lips and tongue against her sex, and she grew more and more helplessly excited despite the shame gnawing at the edges of her pleasure.
She climaxed again, her hips bucking up against his face, her head rolling from side to side and her back arching as waves of joy crashed through her exhausted body.
Erasmus smiled and pulled his face back, his chin glistening. Then he quickly untied her legs before getting to his feet. He moved behind her, released the knot of the dress from around her forearms and wrists, and cast the garment aside entirely. He then took off his silk tie, wrapping it quickly around her left wrist, and as she instinctively began pulling her legs in, he bent her forward, drew her other arm behind her back, and bound her wrists together there.
‘Oh no, Mr Erasmus?’ she protested wearily.
‘Oh yes, Zoe, come, get off the chair, my dear…’ he coaxed her. ‘That’s it. Kneel here… there’s a good girl.’ He stroked her hair as he took her place in the chair, then crossed his legs to disguise his swollen groin, and smiled benignly down at her as she blinked up at him with wide uncertain eyes. She glanced timidly over her shoulder, tugging at the tie binding her wrists, and then gazed back up at him with such an adorably vulnerable expression that was such a turn on he could have very well embarrassed himself by making a premature mess in his tailored trousers.
‘You enjoyed that a lot, didn’t you, my dear?’ he said, calming his excitement a little, noting with delight how the bluntness of the question suddenly rendered her unable to meet his stare. He smiled. ‘I think you’re one of those young ladies who is perhaps more… responsive… to her innate lusts than might be proper,’ he diagnosed, frowning in concern.
Her head bowed still further as a flush spread over her cheeks.
‘I was only teasing earlier when I called you a slut, Zoe, but society is, unfortunately, very judgmental about lustful thoughts or behaviour in proper young ladies. Do you want to gain a reputation as a slut, my dear?’
‘No,’ she whispered miserably. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Of course you don’t, yet your body seems to crave sexual experiences. I’m amazed you managed to avoid acquiring a reputation for as long as you have. Of course, you’ve spent almost all your life being closely supervised, and it would be most unfortunate for your father if it now got around that his daughter was morally delinquent.’
‘M-morally delinquent?’ The words seemed to take a while to sink in. ‘But I’m not morally delinquent,’ she protested.
‘Not yet,’ he said, steepling his fingers like a man of great wisdom – which to Zoe, he was. ‘But we both know what such corrupting desires can lead to, don’t we?’
She lowered her eyes again, feeling nothing but shame beneath his scrutiny.
‘You wanted me to thrust my erection into your body just now, didn’t you?’ he suddenly accused with alarming frankness. ‘Let’s not be coy with each other; you wanted me to fuck you.’
Zoe knelt, her face lowered, her hands bound behind her back, thinking she was about to cry.
‘Of course you did,’ he pressed. ‘Lust took over your body and your mind. They both craved the release I just gave you. You can’t deny it. And that craving will only grow worse now. You’ll need to achieve that release on a regular basis, or who knows what your hunger will drive you to.’
‘But… but what can I do, Mr Erasmus?’ she asked in despair.
‘Oh, there are many things you can do,’ he said assuredly. ‘The situation is far from hopeless.’ He leaned forward
and combed his fingers through her silky hair again, smiling compassionately at her as she knelt before him. ‘I can help you, Zoe,’ he offered. ‘I’ve had experience with such feelings in young ladies before. I’m sure I can help you control your unnatural lusts without anyone else being any the wiser.’ He sat back. ‘Perhaps Ms Beacher can help as well.’
‘Ms Beacher?’ she gasped, meeting his eyes again in disbelief.
He smiled, almost sadly. ‘The only true way to discipline your body, Zoe, is through pain, and I’m far too smitten to inflict pain upon you.’
‘Pain?’
He stroked her hair comfortingly. ‘Just as a father controls a wayward child by spanking her so she learns the errors of her ways, so can an older woman teach a wayward young woman like you proper control of her body. I, being a man, am entirely too affected by your beauty and seductive nature to do anything but admire you and want to give you pleasure.’
‘But… but does she have to know?’ Zoe asked.
‘Ms Beacher is a woman of the world, my dear Zoe. She has conquered her own lusts and won’t be at all surprised to see them manifesting in such a young and beautiful woman as you. She’s already seen it before, as you’ll recall.’
Zoe did recall, with a mixture of dread and anticipation, the strange pleasure she had experienced as Ms Beacher caned her bottom. There was no denying it, as always Mr Erasmus was right. She had often felt lust for men since she left school, often found herself imagining their lips on hers, their fingers kneading her breasts, and… and… She cringed at the thought of her father finding out his daughter was so shamelessly lustful.
‘Would you come in here please?’
She looked up in alarm just in time to see Mr Erasmus replace the receiver on its hook. Her eyes darted towards the door, and she pulled her wrists against the tie binding them behind her. ‘No,’ she gasped, trying to rise.
‘Sit, Zoe,’ he commanded.
‘But…’
The door opened and humiliation flooded in as Ms Beacher entered the office. She saw the shock on the woman’s face when she caught sight of her, and looked away quickly.
‘What on earth…?’
‘Ah, Ms Beacher, thank you,’ Mr Erasmus said pleasantly. ‘We have a small problem with young Zoe here. You, being an experienced woman of the world, can help her, I’m sure.’
‘What problem?’ Ms Beacher asked.
‘Zoe is one of those unfortunate young ladies who finds herself overwhelmed with thoughts of lewd behaviour. As we both know, only stern discipline can help control such impulses.’
Ms Beacher nodded in agreement. ‘Of course.’
‘Unfortunately, I find myself unable to give her the necessary discipline,’ he announced casually. ‘Could you…?’
‘Yes, of course I could,’ the woman said.
Zoe was desperately wishing she could melt through the floor as she hid behind the curtain of her hair.
‘Quincanon, come here,’ Beacher snapped.
An order such as that could not be disobeyed, and deeply ashamed of her behaviour as well as of her nudity, Zoe slowly forced herself to her feet. Staring down at the floor, she shuffled around the desk to the straight-backed chair on which Beacher had seated herself. She felt hideously embarrassed and yet… and yet she was also strangely excited. Ms Beacher had seen her bottom before, but now she was virtually naked, and despite her shame, Mr Erasmus had taught her how desirable her body was. She knew she should not be taking pride in it now, but she could not quite stop herself from doing so.
‘Clearly you did not take sufficient warning from our previous encounter,’ Ms Beacher said in a chill tone, and Zoe could not speak.
‘Look at me when I am addressing you, young lady.’ Zoe raised her eyes, her face scarlet and her body trembling. ‘You continue to have the self-discipline of a recalcitrant girl,’ Ms Beacher reprimanded her. ‘Therefore, we will treat you like a recalcitrant girl.’ She patted her lap, frowning sternly.
Zoe did not understand at first, though she thought she might. But surely Ms Beacher did not want her to—
‘Place yourself across my thighs, young lady.’
Zoe’s mind shied away from the humiliating concept. It would be too awful to be spanked across Ms Beacher’s lap, and in front of Mr Erasmus too, who was so kind and wise and gentle and sophisticated. She had already humiliated herself sufficiently before him by displaying the depths of her own vulgar desires. She could not bear the thought of being spanked like a wayward girl while he looked on.
‘At once,’ Ms Beacher commanded.
Her face flaming, Zoe shuffled to the edge of the chair, and bent over awkwardly, but she could not bring herself to lean fully forward. She stood there, half bent from the waist, and was almost grateful when Ms Beacher took her arm and guided her the rest of the way down across her lap. She felt the soft material of the woman’s skirt against her breasts and belly and thighs, and then gasped as her head and shoulders dipped to hang upside down, her hair sweeping the floor. Her legs hung over the other side of Ms Beacher’s legs, her toes touching the floor while her bottom was presented, raised and vulnerable.
‘Open your mouth.’
Zoe cried aloud as Ms Beacher, using the expedient of gripping her long hair, forced her head up and back. And as her mouth opened to issue another cry, the woman pressed something between her lips – her own wadded panties.
‘You’ll be taught to behave yourself properly, young lady,’ Ms Beacher stated resolutely, and smacked her bottom sharply.
‘I just knew you were the person to set her right, Ms Beacher,’ Mr Erasmus purred.
The pain as Beacher began spanking her was sharp and stinging, but it was not nearly as bad as the knowledge that Mr Erasmus was watching. She moaned into her panties as her bottom warmed up, squirming awkwardly and breathing through her nose as Beacher’s hand rose and fell relentlessly. The blood flowed to her head, giving her the throbbing beginnings of light-headedness, and the strangeness of her position made her feel increasingly dizzy and disoriented.
Beacher gripped the young lady’s upper thigh near her sex, easing her into a better position, and Zoe felt a sudden stab of secretly pleasurable sensation in her pussy as the edge of Ms Beacher’s hand pressed against it. The awareness of her helplessness and nudity blossomed inside her with renewed strength, and with it came a strange sense of arousal. She imagined the view Ms Beacher must have, not only of her bottom but also of her sex – a sex still warm and moist from all the attention Mr Erasmus had recently paid it… and he was looking on…
Zoe did not know why this excited her, why being naked and bound and helpless at the mercy of others should give her such a thrill, but she felt an undeniable current of arousal course through her belly. And even as Beacher resumed her hard spanking, she felt a growing hunger in her sex. Each blow made her squirm and jerk in response and caused her to cry out softly through her moistening gag… and Mr Erasmus was watching… it was all so embarrassing and yet so strangely exhilarating.
Finally, the spanking ended and she moaned breathlessly.
‘I hope you have learned your lesson, Quincanon,’ Beacher said sternly.
‘There is a test you might consider,’ Mr Erasmus suggested.
From the corner of her eye Zoe saw him handing something over to Beacher, a pencil, she thought, and a moment later she felt the ignominy of it sliding against her nether lips, and then entering her body. She trembled as it slid deep into her warm wet pussy, twisted slowly, and then withdrew.
‘I don’t think her body has learned anything from this,’ Beacher commented dryly. She grabbed a handful of Zoe’s hair and forced her head up and back once again. The young woman cried out weakly as the tip of the pencil was pushed beneath her eyes, and then rubbed against her cheek to demonstrate how shamefully wet it was from its brief s
ojourn inside her.
‘Perhaps sterner methods are required,’ Mr Erasmus suggested mildly, and abruptly pulled Zoe off Ms Beacher’s lap. He dragged her still half on her knees to a nearby sofa, an old red leather antique with thick, curved arms.
‘Place yourself across it, Quincanon,’ Beacher ordered from behind her.
Zoe grunted as she fell forward, not over the arm of the sofa as she had expected but along it, her thighs straddling the old leather and her pussy coming down wetly against it. And as the arm curved upwards towards the back of the sofa, so too did she find herself bent forward, but not fully, so that quite a bit of pressure was placed on her clitoris.
Mr Erasmus stood back to one side, and Zoe trembled anew at the inviting view he must be enjoying of her bottom and her sex. Then she saw that Ms Beacher was holding a ruler, just before it swatted cruelly against her flushed buttocks. She cried out into her gag, her body jerking forward. The ruler stung, but her pussy rubbing over the leather arm produced an entirely different sort of feeling and she hissed in astonished pleasure. Again the ruler smacked her vulnerable bottom cheeks, and again her body instinctively lunged forward, grinding on the now slightly moistened leather.
Again and again the ruler struck, and each time Zoe jerked forward a few inches along the arm of the couch as the smooth leather grew slicker and slicker with her juices. She was going to come… she knew she was going to come even as the ruler sent sharp shocks of pain through her bottom. She did her very best to resist the climax building inside her, and her very best to hide what she was feeling, but failed utterly when an orgasm washed over her as she ground her pussy frantically on the immoveable piece of old furniture. Shame flooded her even as ecstasy washed away her ability to think clearly, and yet deeper than thought was the odd satisfaction a part of her took in the depths of depravity into which she was so swiftly sinking.
She lay limp, draped along the arm, straddling it, her lips parted as she panted for breath, her eyes closed. She could not bear to turn her head and look at the two stern adults behind her. She could only imagine what they thought of her after witnessing such a shocking display.
