"Make me ready, slave girl. And do it all with your mouth. No hands.” His tone had changed markedly from the eager puppy to a stern and commanding taskmaster. Sarah gulped and looked to Lawrence for support, but none was forthcoming. Clasping her hands behind her back, Sarah sat up on her knees and leaned toward David's crotch. He started to unbutton his jeans, but Lawrence stopped him.
"Oh, that won't be necessary, David. Sarah will open your pants with her mouth.” Though Sarah had no idea if she could in fact perform that feat, she was determined to try. Carefully she put her mouth on the top button of his jeans. After a few moments, she was able to pull it free from its closed position. Then, taking the little metal tag in her teeth, she dragged the zipper down. Rising up again, she pulled at the fabric of his underwear with her teeth until she managed to drag it down his body. Out popped his already semi-erect cock.
Slowly, teasingly, Sarah began to make love to this stranger's penis as if it were her lover's. David's penis was long and thick. Sarah worried for a moment that she wouldn't be able to get it all the way back in her throat. Pushing the thought from her mind, she willed herself to relax. Taking the head gently between her lips, she slipped forward until it sank in to the hilt. David closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure. Just a few more strokes with her tongue, and he was rigid with lust.
"This is too good for your mouth, slave. Put this on me and bend over, baby. We're gonna take a ride. Reaching in the pocket of his open pants, David tossed Sarah a small foil-wrapped object. Gingerly, Sarah opened the foil and took out the condom inside of it. David had removed his pants and was standing ready, with his large cock bobbing at Sarah. She moved close enough to roll the condom onto his shaft. She hoped she was doing it properly.
Then Sarah bent over on the floor, hiding her head in her hands. Her panties were still on, but no one had told her to remove them. Her high heels were on as well, though she wore no stockings. David eyed her appreciatively. Then, with one swift movement, he pulled the silk from her ass, baring the puckered little hole he planned to defile.
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that enough lubricant remained to make the entry bearable. Though she knew she must relax, the scared young woman couldn't help but tense her muscles. She heard him lower himself behind her. As usual, there was no sound from Lawrence, but Sarah was very aware of his presence.
This I do for you, my beloved, she thought to herself, unconsciously mouthing the words in the silence. This I suffer for you, my darling, even if you never know it was for you.
David's cock was at her entrance now, pressing forward. He didn't stop when she moved forward. He simply grabbed her hips and held her fast. Then, unrelentingly, he slid his large, hard cock into her ass. He didn't stop until his balls rested against her.
The force of his entrance made Sarah grunt as she took his cock. He stayed perfectly still for a moment, and then began to move slowly. In and out he eased himself, allowing Sarah to adjust to his rhythm. She was surprised but pleased to find that it didn't hurt nearly as much as she was expecting. There was slight discomfort at the opening, but nothing she couldn't tolerate. The plugs must have been of some benefit, after all. As he began to move to his own internal rhythm, Sarah actually found herself becoming aroused. Her pussy was beginning to throb as she thought of what Lawrence was watching—his novice—naked, with breasts swinging and ass high in the air, being fucked in the ass by another slave—a slave who was claiming her as if he were her Master, a slave she might someday be in the position to discipline.
However, any dominant thoughts were only fleeting. Sarah felt her submissiveness keenly, naked on the floor with her ass stretched and filled by David's massive cock while being observed and judged by her trainer. She was aching to touch her pussy, certain that just a few swirls with her fingers would cause an immediate orgasm. But no, she would wait until Lawrence decreed it. Surely he would want to see her come at least once before he let her go.
Sarah's thoughts were obliterated as David grabbed her hips and rode her hard and fast. He was moaning as his balls slapped her ass with each thrust. Sarah tightened with anxiety as he raped her from behind. Each thrust forced a grunt or moan from her throat. If he hadn't had her tight in his grasp, she would have tried to wriggle free.
Harder now. Faster. He held her tight, his fingers digging into her flesh, each thrust now more savage than the last. Exhausted from the tension of resistance, Sarah finally let go. She hadn't consciously accepted his invasion of her body; she was just too spent to resist any longer. As her muscles eased, David pressed even farther into her with his iron-hard shaft, but, because she had given in at last, the pain receded.
"Oh, God!” he cried out, as he released his seed into the latex sheath on his cock. For several more moments he eased in and out of Sarah's bottom, until, with one huge sigh, he pulled away and let her go.
Sarah fell forward in a heap and lay as she was.
"Get up and thank David for using you.” Lawrence spoke very quietly. Sarah forced her tired limbs to raise her. Crawling toward David, who was sitting back on his heels, the rubber still hanging from his now-flaccid cock, Sarah whispered, “Thank you, Sir."
David ruffled her hair as if she were a puppy. “Anytime, sugar.” He grinned.
The room was dark, though it might have been daytime. Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows of the library. In the center of the floor, there was a heavy chair of solid oak. In the chair Sarah sat, silent and alone. She had been here for hours, for days, for weeks. She didn't know. Drifting in and out of a restless sleep, she tried not to focus on her deadened limbs, bound tightly to the arms and legs of the massive chair.
Ropes tethered her thighs and ankles, forcing her to keep her legs far apart. Her naked pussy was exposed to the slight draft in the room. She was cold.
Her arms were secured behind the chair, forcing her to arch her back, making her prominent breasts jut up and out. The nipples were erect and engorged, though whether it was from cold or arousal wasn't clear. Ropes encircled Sarah's breasts, crisscrossing the pale skin with rough hemp. The ropes entwined down her body, forcing her thighs open as they cut into the tender flesh.
Sarah's dark, thick hair was swept up in a twist and secured with two pins at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were blindfolded in black satin. Her mouth was covered by a cloth gag tied around her head. Her body was naked, save for the adornment of chains, ropes, and satin.
She had sat thus for about thirty minutes when the door opened on well-oiled hinges. The trainer glided in and moved close to his slave. She felt his presence, but in her condition, could not respond. Nor did he expect her to.
After inspecting her bonds and checking her for comfort and circulation, Lawrence spoke. “We are not done, little one. You may be expected to be bound like this for many hours. Some Masters find this bondage and sensory deprivation to be the height of erotic submission. But I thought I would add a little interest to your ordeal. Stay very still, and this won't hurt—too much."
Lawrence took the little clips he was holding in his hand. Attaching first one and then the other to Sarah's erect nipples, he gave the heavy chain between them a little pull. Sarah moaned in her bonds. Next, he attached a third clip to the ring in the center of the chain. This one trailed down her belly, and she shivered at its cold metal touch. Before she could realize what was happening, Lawrence had attached a third clip to the hood of her bared clitoris. Sarah jerked forward slightly—her bonds would allow no further movement. The shock of the metal teeth biting into her most sensitive spot had left her momentarily stunned.
Then the feeling began to register. It was a terrible, exquisite mixture of pain and erotic pressure. She was no longer drifting in and out of dreamy sleep. Sarah was wide awake with pain, with excitement and with yearning.
The door closed quietly. He was gone.
Sarah's arms were aching. Her calves were aching. The tip of her nose itched. This time, at least, the room was bright. Her
clit still ached from the clip that had held it tight earlier that day.
Lawrence had released his prisoner eventually. He bathed her stiffened limbs in a tub scented with soft oil. As he stroked her flesh, still marked faintly by the rope, Sarah noticed his tender expression. She hardly dared to hope, but could it be that he was softening toward her at last? Still, he had said nothing to indicate a change of feelings. Their conversations remained focused on her training for some as-yet-unidentified Master. They didn't speak of what their relationship might be when the two weeks were up.
And they very nearly were.
Sarah didn't dare ask; she didn't want to hear a possible good-bye. So she pretended to be interested in the men Lawrence brought up occasionally as possible Masters. She tried to ask relevant questions about what they were like and what they were seeking. But in truth, she didn't care. Though she might serve another, Sarah already belonged to one man. There could be no other Master of her heart.
Now she was in Lawrence's bedroom, bent forward over the high wooden table by the window, her arms outspread. Sarah was bound, naked save for the anal plug nestled securely in her ass, and a bright red silk blindfold over her eyes. She had been secured by her wrists and ankles to the legs of the long, dark table. Her face was resting against the smooth wood. She could smell the scent of lemon oil that she, herself, had lovingly worked in to the grain of the wood.
By wriggling forward a little, she found she could ease the tension in her muscles. She hesitated to move much, however. With her face toward the wall, Sarah wouldn't be able to see if her trainer came into the room. Lawrence expected her to remain still and calm as she waited for his arrival. She might be expected by her future Master to remain poised and graceful for long periods of time, even while bound and uncomfortable. This was her lot.
The thought of her position now made her shiver. She forgot her discomfort as she thought about what was going to happen to her. Her trainer had promised he would be there soon. He was going to give her a whipping. It was not a punishment. It was a gift.
Lawrence had been pleased with her progress. Over the past several days, they had continued her training on all fronts. She was now able to tolerate the medium-sized anal plug without difficulty. Though she was not yet comfortable with it, she had endured being fucked in the ass. She was able to hold the rubber dildo far back in her throat without gagging. She could massage a man or woman into a pool of melted butter on the massage table. Her bows and curtsies were charming and graceful.
She remained bound in difficult positions for extended periods of time without complaint. She could take a whipping with grace, though she hadn't again reached that spiritual plane that she had fleetingly touched that night in the playroom. Sarah was still terrified of the cane, but Lawrence hadn't had occasion to use it again.
He had told her she was beginning to show signs of worthiness. “So far I have whipped you to remind you, to teach you and to train you, but today you will be kissed with my lash. Today you will be rewarded with erotic pain. You have earned it."
Sarah sighed softly as she leaned into the hard wood of the table. He was pleased with her. She had earned a whipping. Sarah had to admit she loved the caress of the leather lash, the slow buildup in intensity. She missed the erotic torture she had endured at Julian's hand. While he wasn't a Master in the sense that he could command her absolute obedience and adoration, he had given her the physical satisfaction she craved. Since Sarah had been here with Lawrence, she had remained precariously balanced on the razor-sharp edge of lust and frustration. Today—maybe today—she would be granted release!
Sarah jerked forward suddenly and emitted a little cry of distress. She had been startled by the feel of a hand on her neck. So caught up in her daydreaming, Sarah hadn't heard her trainer enter the room.
He didn't speak. Sarah shivered and tried to press against his fingers as Lawrence stroked her flesh with his hands. His strong fingers trailed down her back to her ass. They inched in idly to her inner thighs. Sarah sighed very softly and tried to remain still. His touch electrified her. She hoped that if she stayed very still, he might forget himself and touch her as a lover would. Her pussy ached with longing for his touch. The fingers tickled the delicate flesh of her thighs, and moved in toward the heat of her sex. Sarah focused her will on drawing those fingers closer.
Suddenly his hand was on her sex. Teasingly, he massaged the outer lips for a moment. Then he pressed inward. Sarah was already so wet that his fingers slipped right into her. She ached to thrust herself onto his hand, to fuck his fingers, but she didn't move; she didn't dare.
Leaning close to her ear, Lawrence whispered, “Today you will be whipped here.” As he spoke, he cupped her hot cunt in his hand. Sarah moaned and pressed against him. Withdrawing his hand, Lawrence brought a small black riding crop close to Sarah's face. She could smell the leather as it caressed her cheek and touched her mouth. She could smell her own juices on Lawrence's fingers as he drew the leather over her skin. Instinctively, Sarah kissed the whip as it passed her lips.
"Prepare yourself, slave girl. You have earned this. Now take it with grace.” Lawrence stood back behind the naked, bound woman. Her heart was already pounding with anticipation. She felt the familiar catch of her breath as she tried to calm her expectant body. She had to admit that beneath the fear of being whipped on her tender pussy, her desire was fierce. The delicious paradox of fear and lust left her breathless before the first stroke.
Lawrence began to smack her tender folds lightly in a rapid staccato. Sarah's breathing immediately quickened. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he increased the intensity of the whipping, while slowing the pace. Sarah's naked pussy pouted with need. The strokes were creating a small but pleasant fire in her belly. By moving slightly, she could position her clit to receive the still-gentle strokes.
Suddenly the trainer smacked her hard. Because of the way she had moved, it caught her squarely on her tender bud. Sarah screamed and quickly moved back to her original position. Again and again he whipped the tender pussy until Sarah began to whimper and moan into the table.
The pain and pleasure began to mount to an almost-unbearable height. She longed to close her legs now; had she been free, the test of keeping them open might have been more than she could handle. But she wasn't free. She was bound tightly to the table legs, spread open and vulnerable to his lash. Again and again he whipped her cunt. Now the pain began to overtake her pleasure.
Sweat was trickling down Sarah's sides and between her breasts. Her breathing came in short, desperate gasps. The cuffs were cutting into her wrists and ankles as she writhed uncontrollably in her bonds. Grinding her face in the wood, Sarah tried desperately not to cry out. Just when she thought she would faint from the effort of it, and from the heat rising in her, the torture stopped. She slumped forward slightly. Her pussy was on fire, and she longed for a gentle touch.
It was quiet for some moments. As Sarah's breathing calmed, she became aware of the pain in her legs from being shackled thus for ... how long? She had no idea of the passage of time. Her body ached with fatigue and pain, and with controlled desire. She was longing to be released and held. Lawrence knew she was near her breaking point. With a few deft movements, he freed her body from its shackles. Sarah slumped, unmoving, against the table.
Gently, Lawrence lifted the inert woman and laid her on his large, soft bed. She looked almost tiny lying there, naked and disheveled on the thick down comforters. As tenderly as a father, as sweetly as a lover, he smoothed the matted, wet hair from her face. Leaning forward, he kissed her softly on the cheek.
"You did very well, Sarah,” he murmured. “You are a brave and graceful woman.” Sarah sighed with happiness at his praise. She was certain at that moment that she was ready to die for this man. Should he choose to claim her, she would be his completely to command, to own.
Lawrence was staring at the woman before him on the bed. Something in his face hinted that he wanted to say more. But he di
dn't speak. He leaned forward, as if to kiss her, or hold her. Sarah lifted her arms weakly to receive him. Wordlessly, he fell onto her, his body covering hers.
Burying his face in her hair, he whispered over and over, “Sarah, Sarah. My love. My Sarah."
Chapter Ten
Sarah entered the playroom that evening very happy and excited. The training period was almost over. Tonight, Lawrence had promised, she would finally be allowed to come. These two weeks had flown by, and yet Sarah realized she had changed in some very basic ways. Or, to be more accurate, she was finally really becoming herself—casting off that fictitious self that she had always held around her secret soul as if it were all there was. In these two weeks, she had experienced every possible emotion, from lust and desire to rage and anger to tenderness and love.
During all her training and all her adventures, Sarah had not been granted sexual release, though she had been so close at times she could taste it. These two weeks felt to her like a lifetime of unrequited lust and need.
Lawrence allowed her to dress for the occasion and she had chosen a dark blue cotton jersey dress that clung to her body, accentuating her already-eager nipples and hugging the slight curve of her hips. She was not allowed panties, and thus her hot little pussy was bare. Lawrence had gone out to run a few errands. He had instructed Sarah to wait for him in the playroom.
Never very patient, she felt restless after a few minutes and flopped down on cushions at the big bay window. The setting sun was making bright patterns on the wall. Sarah's eyes were drawn to that wall where Lawrence had hung several of his finer whips. Just seeing the splendid instruments of torture and delight sent a torrent of desire through Sarah that actually made her shudder. She felt so very needy.
There was one whip of especial beauty that caught her eye. It held a prominent position between several smaller whips and crops. Her eyes kept returning to it. It looked so finely crafted. The smooth handle was a lovely honey color, with blond highlights. It seemed to flow, to have an almost animate character about it. The deerskin lashes were a natural dark brown, hanging there unbraided and soft. But she knew that their softness belied the sting a skilled user could impart.
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