Bound and Initiated (21 page)

Robert moved the fingers inside, and Sarah cried out because it made her feel suddenly so submissive to him that she could hardly recognize her own thoughts.
Yes,
she realized,
I get it, Grace.
Even though part of her definitely wanted to lose her virginity, as she certainly must now, since she was immobilized here on this bench designed for precisely that purpose, with a naked, dominant man standing ready to put his cock inside her pussy, she knew at the very same time she didn’t want it.

Or… what was it Grace had said? Sarah did want it, but she didn’t
want
to want it. She wanted her master to fuck her not because
she
—Sarah James, good girl who should know better than to let a man put his penis in her vagina—wanted it but because
he—
powerful Pater Robert who fucked a girl when he found her attractive, whether or not any other man had ever fucked that girl before and whether or not that girl wanted to be fucked—wanted to take his pleasure inside her pussy.

She wanted him to
make
her.

She wanted him to secure her with the cuffs, the columns, and the crossties, so that no matter how much she struggled she would still be on the bench with her legs spread open, ready for fucking. She had no choice, now; she didn’t
want
to have any choice. Billionaire Steven would spank college girl Sara Jane because college girl Sara Jane needed to learn that her wealthy master would teach her the lessons she needed—lessons in respect and obedience. Then he would teach her an even more important lesson: a lesson about her pussy, and what a dominant man liked to do with it, whether or not a girl thought he should.

A respectful, obedient girl. A good girl. An Ostia girl. Sarah James got it.
Girls like me are for fucking.

She looked up at her pater, her master: handsome and confident, making her sob with pleasure as he prepared her cunt—she saw through his eyes for an instant, and named her vagina that dirty thing that she knew he liked to call it—for his pleasure. His eyes rose to meet hers, and he smiled. In that smile, Sarah thought she could see his understanding of everything that she had in her racing mind: the after-image of Grace taking the blond man’s cock over the library table as he pounded her backside and she cried out in forced, ambiguous pleasure; the disturbing contentment of being trussed with her knees almost to her chest, so that her bare pussy and anus presented themselves to the man who held his penis at the ready; the struggle to remember that she was supposed to be trying to take down this bizarre cult that tied the salvation of the world to the defloration of girls like Sarah in pleasure chambers deep below the earth.

Now Robert’s eyes moved from her pussy to her face, as if he sought to find in her expression the proof of his mastery over her, as he gently urged the head of his cock inside her. Sarah whimpered, because it felt so good, and so new. The dildo had gone there, but her master’s cock was warm, and it was attached to her handsome master, who had spanked her with the paddle to get her ready for him.

“Look,” he said softly, and Sarah knew what he must mean. She looked down her body, and though she could only barely see her pussy, Robert’s cock, joining him to her, mastering her so terribly, seemed to fill her vision. She felt a shuddering breath leave her body at the sight, and she couldn’t seem to look away.

“Now look at me,” he said, and she did. Robert held her gaze for a long moment, and then, almost pointedly, he looked back down at the place where his cock had entered her. He gripped her around her bent thighs.

“Oh…” Sarah said, suddenly feeling she must protest, must stop him, must struggle.

But Robert, her pater, used his leverage to thrust terribly hard.

As he tore through her maidenhead, Sarah gave a great cry of pain. She closed her eyes at the burning and the sensation of wrongness to have something so big moving inside her, and bit her lip so that her scream became sobs and whimpers, as her master began to come and go in her deflowered pussy, losing no time in enjoying his columba to the fullest.

Robert fucked her very hard, even though she had been a virgin only a few moments before. He had promised he would, from the moment she had met him, in the hallway the previous morning.
I will use you roughly
—wasn’t that what he had said? Now he did, moving his right hand from her thigh to her collar to grip her there and beginning to breathe heavily himself as he drove into her faster and faster.

“So nice and tight, Sarah,” he grunted. “So nice and tight.”

Sarah gave a little cry of shame and discomfort at the degrading words, and opened her eyes, feeling that she had to see what Robert looked like when he fucked her. As she had known he would be, he was looking down at his cock moving in and out of her.
Nice and tight
. Bright red appeared on his cock, proving that he had fucked a virgin’s maidenhead away, but he didn’t seem to care, and that thought suddenly seemed to transform the burning pain in Sarah’s pussy into arousal.

Instinctively, she struggled against her bonds, against his hands holding her even tighter than the leather did. The struggle made her moan with pleasure, and she saw Robert’s eyes rise again to look into her face, as if to verify that she had moaned in pleasure and that this transformation—which he must have known would occur—had taken place.

He smiled. “You like fucking, don’t you, columba?” he said without ceasing to thrust in and out of her burning pussy, his voice thick with erotic labor and arousal.

“Yes, pater,” Sarah said, her own voice choked. “It hurts, but I like it.”

Paradoxically—because shouldn’t Sarah
not
like it?—her declaration that she enjoyed the bondage and the pain and the use for her master’s pleasure seemed to bring on Robert’s climax. “Lie still and take it, Sarah,” he growled, and gripped her thigh and collar even more firmly. Then his body shuddered mightily, and he held himself deep inside as his hips made irregular little jerking thrusts.

His seed spurted inside her pussy. Sarah’s eyes widened at the feeling, for it seemed like a consummation for her as well, even without her own orgasm: the pulsing of his cock and the sensation of the semen inside as proof of his virility gratified her in a way that seemed to pass her understanding, but had a solid reality—or perhaps a liquid one?—nonetheless.

“Good girl,” Robert said softly. “Good columba.”

Robert leaned down and kissed Sarah, running his right hand down a little from her collar to caress her breasts, to pinch her tiny nipples and to make her tremble and gasp her need into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, took his hand away, withdrew his cock gently from her pussy. He stood over her, looking down with an air of concern.

“Please, pater…” The words seemed to emerge from her lips of their own accord.

“Hush, columba,” Robert said, and then he put his right hand down.

The instant his fingers touched Sarah’s clit, her body tried to buck as if it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to push her most sensitive part against his hand or it wanted to break her bonds and flee somehow from this chamber and from her master’s attentions. But Sarah knew herself held so tightly then, by the leather that girded her at neck, waist, and wrists, and at thighs and ankles, that she could never escape. So tightly that she must submit to whatever pleasures and punishments Robert, this intelligent, elegant, gorgeous man wanted to bestow upon her quivering flesh.

She cried out, and she felt herself so terribly near an orgasm that she could scarcely believe it.

“Hush, Sarah,” Robert said and rubbed firmly.

And Sarah
did
believe it, because to her dismay and ultimately to her joy it had turned out that she could have written
Forever Girl
herself, and she might as well be college girl Sara Jane, spanked, bound, and fucked by the billionaire.

Her body went completely rigid, fighting the restraints and in that combat finding even more pleasure, which shot through every muscle. If she thought she had had the most enormous orgasm her body could endure the day before, she hadn’t had half enough imagination. She screamed and writhed within the few millimeters her bonds permitted her, and she came, and came, and came.

After he loosed her from the bench, her hands still bound to her sides for, he reiterated, a columba must always be bound, he ushered her gently to the bathroom and into the shower. There, while she trembled, he cleaned her himself, washing her first between her thighs after making her spread them for him, then all over, including her shoulder-length hair and adding conditioner for good measure.

Toward the end of that shower, which felt very much like she was a little girl being cleansed by a tender, knowing older man after playing particularly dirty, naughty games, Robert washed her bottom, running soapy fingers inside her rear cleft. He touched her anus, and pushed his finger in just a tiny bit, until she shivered and tried to jump away, though he held her fast with his other arm around her waist.

From behind and above her he said, “Tomorrow, Sarah,” and she replied in a very small voice, “Yes, pater.”

Then he said, “You must watch me wash now.” He positioned her gently just outside the shower upon the beautiful glazed terracotta tiles of that ancient-feeling bathroom, and wrapped a huge, fluffy towel around her. It felt like the softest thing that had ever touched her skin.

“Watch,” he repeated, and then he began to wash his cock.

The sight of her maidenhead’s final proofs being washed off and down into the silver grate that covered the drain at the center of the shower made Sarah feel very faint, and she instantly understood why her master had told her to watch him wash. To get a glimpse of a man in the shower, washing his private parts, would be a naughty thing, but to have that naughtiness commanded—to be
made
to watch a man clean his cock from a fucking he had just given you—meant that your modesty belonged to him utterly, just as your innocence already did, because he had fucked you.

Robert had turned his profile to Sarah, looking down as he washed his cock. She blushed even more furiously to see that he had begun to masturbate, his left hand on the shaft of his manhood and his right caressing his scrotum.

Still pumping his cock, he turned to her again and met her startled eyes. He said, “Come here, Sarah. I’m going to fuck you again now.”

As if hypnotized, she stepped forward. Robert reached out and took the towel from her shoulders, threw it away. Then, quickly, he spun Sarah around and bent her over in front of him. With his left hand on her belt, he steadied her while his right hand spread her thighs and put the soapy head of his cock at the terribly sore entrance to her vagina. He thrust himself inside at full length instantly, and began to fuck, the shower’s soothing hot water raining down on both of them in vehement contrast to the pain in Sarah’s loins that made her cries echo off the tiles and the stone walls with every thrust.

Sarah’s master rode her long and hard in the shower, until she thought he must want to hurt her somehow between her legs. That thought itself, though, seemed to work the strange transmutation of pain into pleasure that Sarah was coming to know so well, and though she did not come close to a climax, she still did feel waves of pleasure cascade through her with every painful thrust by the time Robert gripped her wrists tightly in his hands and shot his seed inside her for the second time, saying in a growly voice, “Such a good girl, my little columba.”

He fucked her one more time that night, but not until he had washed her again, dried her very tenderly, let her rest in the bed while he talked to her about her day, and fed her the snack that had appeared on the rolling table while they had been in the bathroom. He stretched out his long body, still naked, behind her pale, leather-girded limbs where they sat, her hands once again clipped together so that it was much more convenient for him just to pop the berries and fruit slices, and the little biscuits, into her open mouth than for her to try to pick them up.

“I hear you did very well in the study room, columba,” he said as carefully gave her a sip of champagne.

Sarah blushed, thinking of her furtive looks at Grace with the corvus, having her rear pounded just a few feet away. “Thank you, pater,” she said softly.

“You’ll soon know very much more about the Pretorian Guard and the Order of Ostia, through your work there. Perhaps you’ve already figured a few things out. Tell me.”

As soon as she had faltered slightly over the questions about
Forever Girl,
and then recovered by giving in to her actual, if unexpected and even shameful, affinity for the books, Sarah had begun to prepare herself to answer this question or any other like it. She must simply be that character: wide-eyed and star-struck at being an Ostia girl—ready to submit in every way and eager to learn how to submit more pleasingly, day by day.

“It’s about energy?” Sarah said, in a tone between a statement and a question. She hadn’t even had to think about that, she realized; college girl Sara Jane definitely spoke like that.

Robert smiled, and the Sara-Jane-ish desire to please him further took over. She turned on the bed—awkwardly because of her bound hands—so that she could see him without having to crane her neck.

“And I’m guessing… I mean, do you use girls like me to work on tabloids and social media and things because we have a kind of sensitivity that a man might not have?”

Robert’s smile widened. He was propped up on his right elbow on the bed, and now she watched him reach out his left hand, which he had been using to feed Sarah. He took her right breast in it, thumbed the nipple to make her giggle even as she felt her face color at the way he could simply fondle her thus, just as he pleased.

“Very good, columba,” he said. “Yes.” Then suddenly, as he moved his attentions to her left breast, “Why did you drop out of college?”

Sarah felt a sort of controlled panic rising. Was he touching her breasts to make her let her guard down? Did he know something?