I was able to relax my jaw, and my heart rate returned to normal before the Teacher came back. I still had the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. No one had removed them, and I hadn’t thought about them. In some ways, the slight pressure was comforting.
The door opened and shut. I kept my eyes carefully to the ceiling.
“I will teach you another position, Slave,” the Teacher said. “Turn over and tuck your knees under you, stretch your arms above your head with one hand on top of the other, and rest your forehead on the bed. This position may be used on a bed or the floor and is called Supplication Pose.”
Supplication Pose. That didn’t sound sexual. What was he up to? Once I’d arranged myself into a semblance of the position he’d described, I understood its name.
“Good, Slave. Very good. A variation of Supplication is Supplication with Knees Spread. Lift your hips and open your legs until your knees are set wider than your shoulders. This is not a resting position, as you will soon learn.”
He wasn’t kidding. I had to hold myself up with my thighs and use my outstretched arms to support some of my weight so that I wasn’t putting too much strain on my neck. I was so busy balancing myself so that I didn’t tire too quickly that I didn’t realize he’d climbed up behind me until he put his hands on my hips.
“Good, Slave,” he said. “Maintain that position. It may be tiring, but you will become used to it with repetition.”
It didn’t occur to me what the purpose of this position might be until one of his hands moved from my hip to my pussy. A tremor started in my thighs.
“Hold your position, Slave!” the Teacher barked.
His fingers explored the folds of my pussy, stroking along the lips, brushing my clitoris. A long finger slipped into me.
It was hard enough to breathe normally folded in half like this, and the steel bands tightening around my chest again nearly had me hyperventilating. Quick, shallow breaths, heart beating madly, a roaring in my ears. It was happening again, but his hand didn’t stop. Two fingers, now, moving in and out, rubbing against the walls of my vagina, patient and steady.
“Your cunt is tight, Slave,” I heard. “I’ll enjoy that.”
The fingers vanished, as did the hand on my hip. I was vaguely aware of him leaving the bed, but my heart and my breath were too loud for me to hear what he was doing. But, he’d stopped touching me, and now that he had, I was able to focus again. Nothing terrible had happened. He hadn’t hurt me at all. He hadn’t asked me to do anything. He hadn’t criticized me.
And he hadn’t rejected me.
Crying was becoming a natural state for me, at least over the past twelve hours or so. The mattress dipped as the Teacher climbed up behind me again. He kneaded my hips and lower back. “Hold your position, Slave,” he reminded me. He didn’t comment on my tears. He inched up closer to me, and just as I understood what he was going to do, he drove his cock deep into me.
“Oh fuck!” I shrieked, more in surprise than pain, and was quickly reprimanded for my outburst with a sharp slap to my right butt cheek, which only served to produce another shriek, though this one was wordless. He began to fuck me in a way that let me know I was just a convenient receptacle for his dick, and my pleasure was only incidental to his. Paradoxically, though his penis was definitely larger than others I’d encountered, never did he thrust so hard as to be painful, and I could tell he must have used some lubricant, because there was very little friction.
I held my breath, knowing the alternative was to hyperventilate again, and curled my hands into fists, breaking the position just that much. Somehow, in the midst of his measured pounding, he noted the slip. “Hold your position, Slave,” he ordered.
I had every intention of opening my hands, but I had clenched them so tightly that my fingers were locked in place. I’d just have to take the punishment later. I hadn’t descended into panic again, though I was close, and that was the best I could muster right now.
My shoulders and thighs burned with the effort of maintaining this posture for so long and bracing myself against his movement. I was going to lose the position completely soon, I knew, no matter what he said or did, and no matter the consequences later.
But even with all of that, all the distraction, the terror, the muscles screaming for rest, I registered the sensation of his cock inside me. I tried to refocus, to really feel, as he’d said earlier.
It felt… good.
Something must have changed, the pattern of tension in my muscles, or maybe my hands relaxed a little, or maybe it was just that I was breathing again, because the Teacher stopped his thrusting and held himself inside me.
“You are tiring, Slave,” he said. He withdrew. “Lie at Rest.”
I was certain he wasn’t finished. What now? It took me a moment to coordinate my arms and legs enough to push myself up and then turn over to my back. I couldn't even straighten my legs without a concerted effort.
The Teacher was kneeling near my feet, naked, his impressive cock still hard and ready. “Arms above your head, crossed at the wrists,” he instructed.
I was supposed to be looking up at the ceiling, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. My arms moved almost of their own accord. I’d forgotten about the leather cuffs until the buckles clinked together when I crossed my wrists.
“Bend your knees, place your feet flat, legs spread,” he continued.
I didn’t wait to think about why, just followed his directions. He didn’t wait for me to think, either. He positioned himself between my bent knees, pushed my thighs up and toward my chest, and then he was inside me again.
Just feel. Just feel. I closed my eyes. He moved slowly now, long, even thrusts that slid along my walls and stimulated nerves I’d forgotten I had. I couldn't move, couldn't participate. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. But I was here, and for the first time in six years, I was getting good and fucked.
* * *
Saturday, October 2, 1999, 10:45 p.m.
16 years ago
I dashed to the front door to answer it before the pounding woke up my little brother. It was Beth, sobbing and incoherent.
“What happened?” I asked.
She pushed past me into the house and started up to my room without saying anything. Once in my room, she slammed my door shut—I cringed, hoping Simon was sleeping as soundly as he usually did—and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Your parents are out, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, they’re at a movie. But my brother’s sleeping.”
Beth sniffled. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“What’s going on? What happened?” I asked.
Beth flung herself facedown on my bed. “I couldn't go home like this and your house is closer anyway. I was at Peyton’s. He’s—he—we broke up,” she wailed.
“That sucks! I’m so sorry!” They’d been together for so long, over a year already. “Why?”
Beth hid her face in her hands.
“Beth?”
“We never… you know I would have told you if we did.” She looked up at me, as if she thought I wouldn't believe her.
“He wanted to…?”
She nodded. “And I said I thought fifteen was too young, so he asked me to give him a blow job, and I did, because whatever.” She shrugged. “But then he said he’s a senior now and all his friends are doing it, and they think he’s a wuss for dating a sophomore, especially because I won’t put out. What the hell? He said he was still mad that I wouldn't do it at prom last year! Luce, that was like six months ago!”
“He’s a jerk,” I said.
That brought on a new fountain of tears, and she buried her face in her arms. “It gets worse,” she mumbled.
“What? How?” I had absolutely no good advice. I still hadn’t even managed to actually go on a date with someone.
“He told me he cheated on me. With Marianne!”
“Cheated on you… like, they…?”
Beth nodded.
“Double jerk,” I said. “Marianne?�
� She wasn’t exactly one of the more popular girls in school, though she was known to be pretty easy. And she was only a few months older than Beth.
“I’m so embarrassed!” she cried.
“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who should be embarrassed!”
“No, not that. Well, yes, that. But also, my first thought wasn’t that he’s a jerk. It was that maybe if I, you know, put out, then he’d want to stay with me.”
“You don’t want to stay with a guy like that!”
“I know, but… I told him I’d do it, and he took my pants off, and he was going to—and then I changed my mind, and he called me a bitch and said he’d rather fuck almost anyone but me anyway.” More crying, great heaving sobs that shook her shoulders and moistened the bed under her face.
I sat next to her on the bed and smoothed her hair while she cried. “I’m glad you said no,” I said. “You’d have hated yourself for it. You know how much I admire you, right? For how, like, self-confident you are.”
“Thanks, Luce. That helps. Sometimes I wish I was still as innocent as you.”
“Really?”
“This hurts, Luce.”
“I know.”
* * *
Sunday, November 8, 10:05 a.m.
Day 2
I opened my eyes, aware that the Teacher had ejaculated inside me, dressed, and left the room, but completely unable to move out of the position he’d put me in. My feet had fallen back down to the bed out of sheer fatigue, and there I lay, waiting. I wondered if this was an official pose. He hadn’t given me a name for it.
I was probably supposed to Lay at Rest, or even Kneel at Rest. No one had told me what to do now. A little voice in a corner of my brain shouted with glee that I’d finally managed to have sex, but mostly I was just in shock, already worried that next time I wouldn't be able to get into the Supplication Pose when ordered. I also assumed the Teacher would want to have me punished for breaking the pose without permission.
Someone entered the room. I couldn't see who. “Flogging Pose, Pet,” he said. Not the Teacher or Deep Voice.
Right, Flogging Pose. Obviously. I’d slipped into a dreamlike state, drifting in my own thoughts, and the journey back to reality was taking longer than it should.
“Now, Pet.” Oh, it was Blue Eyes. I recognized the voice now.
I brought my arms down to my sides, and that got the rest of me moving. I sat up and discovered my pussy was a little sore. That didn’t bode well. I got to my feet, saw that it was indeed Blue Eyes, then turned and bent over the edge of the bed.
“You will be punished for speaking without permission, breaking position, and being slow to comply twice,” he said. Where the Teacher was harsh and detached, Blue Eyes managed to convey affection even as he listed my crimes, like a parent scolding a child, rather than a judge delivering a verdict. “Twenty lashes.”
Twenty?! Eleven had nearly toppled me. If I’d known it would be that many, would I have been able to convince myself to move when he’d told me to? I had no idea.
“You do not have to count these, Pet.”
Small mercies. I braced myself.
He didn’t hit me as hard as the Teacher had, but the lashes came closer together, without the need to pause for me to call out the count. This had the effect of increasing the pain by orders of magnitude with each strike because the sting of one didn’t have time to fade before the next landed. On the bright side, it was over more quickly. Still, by the tenth I was sobbing, and by the time he was finished, I was upright by sheer force of will.
“Thank your master for your punishment,” Blue Eyes reminded me. I was beginning to dread that as much as the punishment itself! I straightened and turned to face him.
I sniffled, coughed, and managed, “Thank you for the punishment, Sir.”
“You’re a good pet,” Blue Eyes said. “You are trying hard. We see that.” He held the whip out to me. “Take the flogger and put it in the cabinet over there.”
Flogger, not whip. I took it from him, felt the weight of the leather-wrapped handle. I had to trust them, but they also had to trust me. I could attack him right now. He wasn’t much bigger than me, and now I held a weapon of sorts. But I knew I would do exactly as I was told, and so did he. I opened the cabinet, curiosity clearing away some of the fear and confusion, pain and anxiety. Another flogger hung from a hook. The empty hook beside it was obviously where the one I held should go. I recognized the riding crops but had no idea someone might use that on a person. I didn’t have time to explore further. I hung the flogger and shut the cabinet doors, then Stood at Rest.
“Excellent, Pet. Come here.” I walked back over to him and stood quietly. He unbuckled and removed all four of the cuffs. “Go upstairs to your room now. Use the toilet, then take a shower, no more than ten minutes. Wash your hair. There is a hairdryer under the sink in the bathroom. Dry and brush your hair as you usually would. Then drink a bottle of water—a full bottle. Use the toilet again if necessary. We have left you a book of poses. Rehearse the ones you have already learned and start learning three new ones of your choice. One of us will come get you for lunch at noon.”
* * *
Friday, September 27, 2002, 11:56 p.m.
13 years ago
“Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?” a male voice said.
I looked up and squinted at the guy who had joined me. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink, but I was sure having trouble focusing. “I’m a little dizzy,” I said. I didn’t want to admit it was because I didn’t know anyone and I was too shy to introduce myself. My roommate had dragged me here and then vanished.
He took the red plastic cup from my hand and peered into it. “Your cup is empty,” he said. “Can I get you a refill?”
I shook my head. “No. No, thanks. Um, I’ve had enough.”
“It’s just beer,” he laughed. He sat beside me on the floor against the wall. “You a freshman?”
“Yeah. My first party,” I admitted.
“Welcome. I’m Jake. I’m a junior. I live here.”
“Lucy. I live, um, in the dorms.”
“Who invited you?” he asked.
“My roommate. She’s friends with Patrick, I think?” Patrick was a junior, too, as far as I knew, who lived in this house off campus with, apparently, a few other upperclassmen.
“Cool. Well, you wanna see my room?”
I stared at him for way too long before answering. He was cute, and gazing at me with predatory blue eyes. His hand was on my thigh. When had that happened? “See my room” must be code for “have sex,” right? My brain was moving too slowly. I’d come here to make friends. May as well get started. “Sure.”
He grinned and helped me up. I followed him upstairs, past a few closed doors behind which I could hear distinct moaning, and into a smallish bedroom. “It’s small, so I have it to myself,” he said. He locked the door. Twin-sized bed, desk, closet with a mirror. The room was quite neat, bed made, floor clear. Tidier than my room, that’s for sure.
“Nice,” I said. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Or the rest of me. I leaned against the door.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked. He pushed his chair closer to his desk and bumped his computer mouse. The screensaver winked out, and what appeared on his monitor was definitely not schoolwork. “Oh, fuck, sorry!” he said, scrambling for the mouse to close the window. “I, um…” He sighed. “Porn.”
I giggled. “No boyfriend,” I said.
“Great.” He smiled at me. “You’re cute.”
“Thanks. Um, you too.” This was awkward. I didn’t know how this was supposed to work. Also, I didn’t really want my first time to be a casual encounter with a stranger half-drunk at a party, did I? “What’s your major?” I asked. Maybe if he wasn’t a total stranger, it would be okay.
“Economics. You?” He reached for my hand and drew me closer, then sat on his bed. I plopped down beside him.
“N
ot sure yet. Probably business, or maybe communications. I know, generic, right?”
“Cool.” His hand was on my thigh again, edging up under my skirt. A flutter of excitement and nerves cut through my brain fog. I tilted my head, and he kissed me. I registered soft, warm lips, a faint aftertaste of beer, and then his hands were under my shirt, pushing it up, clawing at my bra.
My head spun. Fingers on my bare breasts, lips still on mine, air on my inner thighs, and I was lying down now, with him on top of me. I pushed at his shoulders and wrenched my face to the side. “Wait!” I panted. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“Don’t you want to fuck?”
“I don’t… I…” I kind of did, but the tiny part of me that was marginally sober was screaming no as loud as it could.
He kissed the side of my neck and mauled my breasts with his hands. My heart beat faster, and I felt a spurt of wetness between my legs. I pulled his head down and kissed him, vaguely aware of him tugging at the waistband of my skirt now. First college party! First college sex! Yes!
He backed away and reached up my skirt for my underwear, pulled them off, undid his pants.
Someone pounded on the door. “Lucy? Luce?! Are you in there?”
“What the fuck?” Jake groaned.
“That’s my roommate, I think,” I slurred. I tried to fix my shirt, but my clothes were in such disarray, I couldn't make sense of how everything was supposed to go. “What’s up, Jen?” I called.
“What the fuck?” Jake repeated. “Seriously?”
“Lucy! Get out here!” Jen shouted.
Jake rolled his eyes and helped me straighten my clothes. He handed me my underwear. “Thanks a lot,” he grumped.
What had I done? Jen was looking for me! I staggered across the room and unlocked the door. Jen grabbed my arm and yanked me out into the hall. She kept a tight grip on my wrist and looked me up and down.
“You didn’t, did you?” she asked.
The House Book One: Pet Lucy Page 4
