Bound and Initiated (20 page)

“Oh, God… so… funny, pater,” Sarah moaned.

“That corvus fucked Grace very hard, didn’t he? Should I fuck you that hard?”

Sarah’s bottom squirmed adorably at that, and her cheeks clenched. She moved her hips as much as she could, as if seeking out more pleasure from Robert’s hand.

“If… if you want, pater,” she whimpered.

Robert inhaled: there it was, his favorite scent in the cosmos—cunt and cologne. He stooped down directly behind her, and Sarah gave a little cry of surprised shame as she realized where his face was now. Her demure little cunt lay just before his eyes, and he watched like a hawk as he continued to fondle her pretty clitoris, making the wetness come more and more there, between the lips, where his cock must go.

“I do want to fuck you hard, Sarah,” he said quietly. “But I also want to fuck you very gently. Will you like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, pater, please…”

“Please what, columba?”

“Am I… I mean, please tell me…”

“Tell you what?” Robert couldn’t resist giving her a little kiss then, right on the private pout of her coral inner lips.

Sarah gave a startled cry, and then she said, “Do I have a pretty pussy?”

Robert smiled. “Why do you ask, Sarah?’

“I want…” Robert tasted her then, with a little lapping of his tongue, and Sarah’s voice became lost in a moan.

“Yes,” he said, standing up again because the time had come to begin the little scene he had mapped out in his head, “you have a very pretty pussy, columba. I’m going to enjoy fucking it in a little while. First, though, I must make sure that you thoroughly understand the submission you are making to me. I want you to tell me about Sara Jane, the forever girl.”

“What?… I mean… Those books… Pater, I don’t understand.”

Robert frowned. Her first reaction had been odd, as if she really didn’t know to what he referred. And then it had almost seemed that she had needed to prove that she did know she had written the two books of the
Forever Girl
series. He supposed, though, that the stimulation he had just given her between her legs could easily have removed her to this very different world, where she would soon lose her virginity in a Mithraic ritual, deep below Manhattan.

“You wrote two romance novels about her and her billionaire, Steven, didn’t you?” Robert said sternly. He walked to the rack and selected a leather paddle.

“Yes, pater,” Sarah said. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m getting a paddle, columba,” Robert said, walking back to where she lay, her bottom upturned to await chastisement now, as before it had awaited pleasure.

“But why, pater?” The alarm came through clearly in her voice. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, Sarah,” he said sternly. “But I am going to make you grasp how thoroughly you need my mastery. I want you to imagine that Sara Jane has broken an antique vase in Steven’s mansion. What do you think Steven would do?”

“I don’t…” For a moment it seemed that Sarah would try to resist him, but then her voice changed, seemed to grow more pliant. “Was it her fault, pater?” she asked.

“Yes,” Robert said. “She was careless, and bumped into it. Then she tried to hide the pieces.”

“Would he spank her, pater?” Sarah whispered.

“You tell me, Sarah. You’re the author.”

She seemed to hesitate, and then she said, “He would spank her. He… he has a bench like this one, in a special room. And that’s where he spanks Sara Jane, because he knows she needs it. He knows… he knows she’ll never forgive herself, and he’ll never forgive her, because…”

Robert’s jaw dropped slightly open at the torrent of words coming from Sarah’s hidden mouth, where her face lay turned to the Persian carpet. Nearly all his doubt that Sarah had written the
Forever Girl
novels vanished.

“Because he hasn’t given her what she deserves. And you, Sarah, my columba, haven’t received what you deserve for writing such naughty books.” He lifted the paddle then, and brought it down hard on her backside, across both cheeks.

Sarah yelped. “But, pater…” Her voice had almost become a wail. “There’s no, you know…”

“No fucking?” Robert asked, and gave her another stroke just a little lower on her bottom. The spank rang out like a gunshot off the stone walls of the little chamber, and Sarah cried out.

“No!” she said. “They… they don’t even talk about it, really. Ow! Please!” Robert had brought the paddle down again.

“That’s not why your books are naughty, Sarah,” Robert said. He gave her three more swats, and watched with satisfaction as her dark pink bottom cheeks clenched helplessly. At the third, Sarah began to struggle against the fittings set into the bench to which Claudia had clipped her cuffs—to no avail, of course.

“Stop squirming,” Robert said, and paddled her again.

“Wh-why… pater?” Sarah sobbed. She did stop squirming at that point, as if taking to heart anew her master’s dominance.

“Because Sara Jane should have known to ask Steven to dominate her,” Robert said.

“What?” Sarah sounded lost and bewildered. “But I… I didn’t know… about this stuff.”

Robert frowned. That didn’t make sense.

“You knew enough to mail the Ostia Agency and ask for training.”

A split-second’s pause. Then Sarah said, “But I… I didn’t understand what it meant. I mean, I kind of knew…”

There. Robert brought the paddle down hard again, and again, and again, and now Sarah cried out very loud with every stroke. Her bottom had turned dark red, and again she clenched it and struggled. The cleansing pain was teaching its lesson.

“You didn’t admit it to yourself, and now I’m making you pay, Sarah. That’s why your books were naughty. You knew you needed this, but you couldn’t admit it to yourself.”

He dropped the paddle, and began to unfasten her from the bench. She ceased her struggles when she understood what he was doing. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Pater…, please fuck me.”

Robert smiled. “That’s exactly what’s about to happen, Sarah, my naughty little dove.”

He turned her over on the bench gently, and saw her beautiful blue eyes staring up at him, as big as saucers. He secured her to the bench on her back, her belt and collar firmly fastened, her wrists clipped to the belt. Then he raised her legs and strapped them wide open, using the adjustable crossties on the columns.

The redness of her bottom had faded a little, and the shade was now the wonderful glowing pink it would hold for a good while. He looked into Sarah’s eyes, and stroked her bottom gently. She moaned and her eyes took on a desperate, pleading aspect. “M-my… my pussy, please, pater. Please.”

Robert chuckled, and smiled down at her gently. “Like this?” he asked, and put two fingers on her clitoris to make a little circle there that made Sarah cry out loud and writhe against her bonds. He loved that sight to distraction: his girl securely fastened in that shameful position, as ready for fucking as a girl could ever be.

“Do you understand now, columba? Have you begun to enjoy your bonds, and your chastisement?” As he spoke, Robert continued the delicate little circles around her modest, tiny bud. Sarah gasped and panted, making little mewling sounds in her chest.

“Yes, pater,” she moaned.

“Were you naughty not to put this sort of thing in your books?” Robert smiled into her eyes as they went very wide again, with the final understanding he had wanted to convey to her.

“Yes, pater.” The words came out in a helpless sob.

“Good girl,” Robert said, reaching up to unfasten the clasp of his robe. “I’ll fuck you now.”

Sarah’s mind seemed completely unable to function with even the slightest shred of reason. Somehow she had become the author of
Forever Girl
. Somehow Robert had
made
her that. Objectively she knew that those books had been generated by an advanced software program iterated from the same programs various unscrupulous publishers used to create fake money-making content for the insatiable romance market.

Sarah had never thought of herself as part of that market, but Pater Robert’s paddle had transformed her into that, like some kind of agonizing magic wand that set her poor bottom cheeks ablaze while at the same time mutating her into a submissive princess. She had seen it: she had seen the scene in Billionaire Steven’s study, when he would spank Sara Jane for her carelessness and her dishonesty about the broken vase. Sarah had only read the books once; her eidetic memory allowed her to store their contents almost without the possibility of error. She had expected that she might be questioned about their contents, and she was ready with the details, though she had also prepared herself not to be able to answer every question, since authors rarely remembered everything they had written.

She had not expected that she would be forced, at paddle point, to elaborate on the creation that was hers without actually being hers. If the hypothetical author of
Forever Girl
were a repressed submissive who could only express her lascivious needs through the crypto-sexuality of billionaire romance, what did that make the real Sarah James, when a man savagely spanked her, and then turned her over and bound her legs wide open, and all she could say was
Please fuck me, pater
and
My pussy, please, pater?

That day in the gym, and then in the study room, and the refectory, back to the study room, back to the refectory, bound in some fashion the whole time, had seemed at once like a dream and like the cold hard reality she had coming when she infiltrated the Pretorian Guard.
Jesus,
a little voice, at the very back of her mind said,
the working group doesn’t even know what this thing is actually called.

Nor, it appeared, did Seth Goldberg and Joe Harkins know anything at all about the guard’s purpose. Their guesses, as far as Sarah could tell, had been wildly inaccurate.

When pretty Grace had told her that Sarah was to look for references to the price of energy in tabloid newspapers, Sarah had looked back at her in disbelief.

“I know,” Grace said sympathetically. “It seems odd. If you do well with the tabloids, you’ll be moved up to other stuff, like thrillers and romance novels. That’s more fun. And if you’re really good, you’ll start looking at government documents and things like that. My friends who do that say it’s boring, so I’m kind of glad I’m not good enough for that.”

“Can I ask questions?” Sarah had said, then turning her head to look at Grace, who leaned over Sarah’s shoulder where Sarah sat fastened to the bench whose cushion, she mused with a blush, must bear the impress of so many girls’ naked bottoms.

“I’m not sure I can answer them,” Grace replied with a little giggle, “but I promise not to say,
Don’t ask useless questions, columba
.”

Sarah found herself giggling, too. She found it distressingly easy to pretend that she enjoyed being an Ostia girl as much as Grace clearly did. Her collar, belt, and cuffs had almost begun to seem normal—the more so because Grace wore the same bonds. The sight of the pretty librarian, with her red hair and sprinkling of freckles under her green eyes, made Sarah’s naughty thoughts about what it would be like to make love to another girl seem to grow in volume until they began to turn into full-fledged fantasies of her master—or her domina, or perhaps both—telling Sarah to kiss Grace on her nipples and between her legs while the nupta cooed in response and, in her greater experience, pressed Sarah’s head into her tender pussy and taught her how to please another girl.

“What happens if I’m good with the government documents?”

“You get promoted again.” Grace gave a little shiver. “You’d have a progression for the government documents, and then you’d be a bellatrix—that’s when your pater gives you to two nymphobi.”

Sarah thought of Kevin and Alex, and shivered herself, biting her lower lip as her fantasies changed drastically, and even more arousingly, in a moment. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Then, if you were good with those documents, you’d be eligible for a progression to agna. Agnae travel with their patres.”

Sarah bit her lip a little harder. “What’s the ceremony like? To be an agna, I mean?”

Grace shivered again. “Your pater makes you pleasure your domina, while he… you know… in your bottom. And it’s with all the brothers standing around, and even a nupta to… to do other things, when the pater and the domina want.”

The ceremony on the video. They were initiating an agna.

“I’ve been the nupta,” Grace continued in a whisper. “Agna Salia—that’s my friend Stacy—she didn’t really think she wanted to be promoted. They made me whip her with the flagellum.”

“What’s a flagellum?” Sarah asked, fairly sure she already knew the answer.

“I bet Pater Robert used it on you last night,” Grace said. “It’s also called the mastix. It’s the one with the twelve tails?”

Tight-lipped, Sarah nodded.

“Well, I had to whip Stacy with it, and they wouldn’t let me go easy on her. Pater Franklin had Claudia strap me when he thought I wasn’t whipping Stacy hard enough.”

Sarah’s thighs felt slick, and her pussy wouldn’t stop clenching. Her breath came harshly through her nostrils. “And how is Stacy now?” she whispered.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Grace said brightly. “She likes her new job a lot. It’s just… you know, it’s just hard, when your master tells you that you have to do this submissive thing? And you don’t really want to, but you want to please him, and somehow that makes you want to do it even though you don’t want to do it? And then you’re naughty, because you want to do it but you don’t want to do it at the same time, and you know if he punishes you, that will make it okay?”

Sarah’s eyes widened at the flow of verbiage that seemed to come from Grace’s lips like a torrent. “I think so?” she said.

Grace smiled. “I promise you’ll really, really get it soon.”

Now Sarah really, really got it, as she watched her master, now unrobed, prepare to fuck her. He held his cock in his left hand and he continued to toy with her burning pussy with his right, looking down all the while at what his fingers did in her untried vagina. The fingers—three of them, it felt like—entered her there, inside the little passage where Dr. Adams’ girl-trainer had stretched her and made her feel both that it would hurt when her pater took his pleasure there for the first time, and that she could bear it, because she must bear it.