Bound and Initiated (8 page)

Sarah thought she might well faint. How could he say such terrible things—things whose meaning she could hardly guess but which must mean her utter abasement and subjugation—in such a caring tone? How could her body react to the thought of the barely guessed cruelties his words evoked with arousal that almost made her emit another of those horrible whimpers she had never given forth before today but now seemed unable to contain?

“Your role?” she whispered, knowing she shouldn’t speak but unable to keep her burning curiosity from spilling over into speech.

“Do not ask useless questions, columba,” Claudia admonished, and now Sarah understood that the sentence had a kind of incantation about it—it was a ritual formulation, designed to instill reverence in new initiates.

Robert, still holding her chin up to look at him, turned to look at Claudia, standing just in front of where Sarah knelt, to the left. “She’s on her way to the instructional exam?” he asked.

“Yes, pater.” Sarah noticed that Claudia’s eyes, too, were downcast. Was she not allowed to look him in the eye, either? Had she looked Kevin and Alex—the nymphobi? was that the word?—in the eye? Sarah hadn’t noticed and she found herself berating the lack of attention.

“The first degree beginning at sunset, then?”

“Yes, pater.”

He looked back down into Sarah’s eyes. “I shall see you then, columba, and, of course, I shall punish you then for looking me in the eye without permission. I’m afraid I don’t have time to toy with you right now, or I might take you into my office for a little preparation and even a preview of what I’ll be doing with your lovely young body tonight. As I said, I’m going to be a very important person in your new life—in some sense the most important person—so I advise you not to forget about me between now and when we meet again this evening.”

“Y-yes, pater,” Sarah managed to stammer. Robert had not adopted a threatening tone, let alone raised his voice, but her whole body had begun to tremble.

“You’re very lovely, Sarah,” he said. “I know I’ll have a good time with you.”

Then he had released her chin and stepped past her, bound for wherever he had been going when he left his office.

Sarah felt more desperate to know what all of it meant than she had ever felt to learn anything in her life.

“Rise, columba,” Claudia said, with what seemed at least a little bit of approval. “You do well not to ask useless questions. I may tell you, though, that Pater Robert will be your pater from now on. That means that for you he stands at what we call the first degree, and also at the last.”

Did Claudia say it just to make Sarah even more curious? Sarah rather suspected she did. What could the talk of
degrees
be if not a way to keep the initiate mystified? How many degrees? What did it mean, to ‘stand’ at one?

Sarah rose, and Claudia walked before her to the end of the hall, and opened the last door to reveal what seemed a normal medical gynecological examination room, with an exam chair to which plastic stirrups were affixed. With a thrill of fear, Sarah noticed that those stirrups seemed to have Velcro cuffs attached to them, and then that there were similar cuffs that must be for the patient’s wrists, to either side of the back of the chair.

“Go ahead and get undressed,” Claudia said, “and then hop up onto the chair. I’m going to secure you to it to get you ready for the examination. Then the doctor will come in.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Sarah complied, reaching back to unclasp her bra, then shrugging it from her shoulders. Claudia took it from her. “Lovely,” the elegant woman murmured, then, “And the panties, Sarah. I’ll be taking your underwear now; you won’t need it again.”

Her face hot once again, Sarah tugged the thong down, wincing a little as the fabric brushed against the welts Claudia had left with the strap. She bent and stepped out of the panties. Then she stood, looking down at the tiny garment in her hand, thinking about how, when she had bought these panties she had imagined a man—no specific man, just a hot, well-dressed one—lifting her skirt someday to reveal them, and understanding without needing to be told that though Sarah was a virgin, that was just because he hadn’t yet come along to discover that she wore lacy black panties. It was the kind of thought she imagined that the author of
Forever Girl
would have, really, but she had excused it to herself at the time, as she played with herself to the accompaniment of the fantasy, because Sarah herself had made the decision to buy the lingerie.

Claudia took the panties from her now. Sarah looked into the woman’s dark eyes, and saw in them that Claudia found Sarah pleasing. Distressed that the knowledge sent pleasure running through her nervous system, centered as always in the bud between her thighs that Sarah was increasingly coming to regard as treacherously independent of her rational mind, she turned to the exam table and, with the help of a footstool, clambered onto it.

She turned, but she kept her eyes lowered, unable to meet Claudia’s gaze. “Into the stirrups now, Sarah,” she said, and as the continual heat renewed itself in her cheeks, Claudia opened her, guiding first her right, then her left ankle into the cuffs, which she fastened securely. She looked down between Sarah’s legs. “Very cute,” she said. “Almost a shame to take away those golden curls.”

“Oh,” Sarah said in voice that sounded very forlorn to her own ears.

“Surely, Sarah,” Claudia said as she wrapped the other cuffs around Sarah’s wrists securely but not uncomfortably, “you’ve wondered what you would look like if someone should decree that you be bare down there.”

“No?” Sarah whispered. The way Claudia put it seemed so provocative that she didn’t know how to answer. She supposed she had imagined it, but she certainly hadn’t imagined that someone might
decree
such a thing.

“That sounds like more of a question than an answer, Sarah. Of course you’ve wondered about it. Every girl understands deep down that she looks more submissive once her pubic hair has been taken away.”

“Y-yes, domina?” Sarah’s face seemed to go hot and cold alternately as she considered the degrading idea.

“Yes. Pater Robert wouldn’t be interested in enjoying a girl who wasn’t bare: like all the men of Ostia, he demands a nice smooth vulva, as is his right.”

Oh, God.
The unguessed-at things, unguessed only because Sarah’s mind recoiled even as her body cried out, with furrowed brow and bitten lip, and with the terrible moisture that she felt sure must soon start to drip, trickle, gush from her pussy.

Claudia walked to the counter and opened a drawer. She took out a battery-powered hair clipper.

Now?
“Oh, no,” Sarah said. “Please. I’m… I’m not ready. Please…”

“You’re ready when we say you are, columba.”

Then, with no further ado, Claudia turned on the clipper and began to remove Sarah’s pubic hair. She said nothing. She simply took advantage of Sarah’s splayed thighs and raised knees, and harvested the little golden crop. Sarah’s brow knit, and much as she tried she couldn’t hold down the little sobs as she watched herself laid bare between her legs and even between her bottom cheeks.

She knew that Claudia could see much more than she herself could, and she felt obscurely that that fact enhanced the shame. Her pussy seemed somehow to have exposed itself lasciviously to the gaze of the elegant woman who in fact did the exposing, once again taking erotic control of Sarah James, a girl who had always thought she would always be in charge of her sexual fate.

Then, from a cupboard, Claudia brought out what could only be a pot of hot wax, which she plugged in, still saying nothing.

“Oh, please…” Sarah finally said, as her heart began to thud wildly.

“Don’t be silly, Sarah. Did you sign the contract or not? You must be prepared according to our specifications. You’ll be amazed how smooth and soft your vulva and anal area are after I wax them.”

It hurt terribly; there was nothing arousing about it. Nevertheless, as the strips of cloth were peeled away quickly and efficiently, and Sarah gave little shrieks of pain, she could feel that it had a terrible eroticism to it as well, for she could not stop thinking about what Pater Robert would see when he laid eyes on her bare pussy for the first time. He thought her pretty in her lingerie, with a whipped bottom. Would he think her pussy pretty when he… when he did whatever he would do? When he
enjoyed
her?

She closed her eyes and cried out, and then suddenly Claudia was saying, “It’s done, columba. Open your eyes.” Sarah obeyed, and found that Claudia was holding a hand mirror up so that she could see what she looked like now. The sight seemed so shameful: cute pink lips peeping out saucily, and even a hint of the bud of her clit at the top, but Sarah couldn’t look away, even from the sight of the little pink anus nestled in between the well-punished cheeks, where the waxing had made her face flush so very hot.

“There, now. You’re ready for your instructional exam.” Claudia put away the clipper and the wax pot. “I’ll see you in a little while, Sarah, for your final preparation before you’re taken downstairs to be initiated. You remember—on my coffee table.” She smiled in a way that almost struck Sarah as hungry. “Don’t worry, columba. I’ll take your mind off your coming ordeal, if you’re a good girl for me.”

Sarah’s mouth hung open as Claudia held her gaze for a long moment. She worried suddenly that she was expected to say
Yes, domina
. How she might be punished if she failed to say the right thing, and the knowledge of how open she lay to further discipline, bound to this exam table, made her flinch.

But Claudia’s strange smile broadened for a split second, and then she turned and went out, her feet stirring a few of Sarah’s lost yellow curls where they lay on the linoleum floor.

There Sarah waited for the doctor. She had no way to measure the passage of time, but it seemed to her that her wait exceeded by a long way every other wait for a doctor in an exam room she had had in her life. To remain on the table, held open, affected her strangely. Something in her mind seemed to be going through a kind of radical reorientation, so that she even began to wonder whether she, the trained CIA intelligence analyst, might really be the kind of girl who wrote romance novels about billionaires.

She didn’t think she
had
written those computer-generated books: she wasn’t losing her mind. She did start to wonder, however, whether she
could have
written them. She thought of the absurd plot of
Meeting Steven,
the first of the two
Forever Girl
books: the small-town girl who came to photograph the billionaire and ended up stealing his heart. She thought of the first love scene, where Steve Billionaire pushed Sara Jane up against the wall and kissed her
so hard that Sara Jane thought the earth shook under her feet
.

She thought about Pater Robert pushing her against a wall and kissing her. Kissing her, and a very great deal more: touching her pussy and murmuring approvingly. She thought about Kevin and Alex holding her between them so that she couldn’t get away as they explored every secret of her body. She thought about Claudia’s coffee table.

There was a quick knock on the door, and it opened. A white-coated doctor of about fifty stood there, wearing a shirt and a tie under the white coat. He looked like any other avuncular doctor you might see in a hospital, making rounds.

Then had come the installation of her IUD, and the humiliating introduction of the
girl-trainer
in response to her questions, along with the promise that she must now take the dildo in her mouth.

When Sarah had considered oral sex under the heading of
blowjobs,
she had decided she probably didn’t want to do it, even if she loved the guy. The demeaning nature of the act, which Dr. Adams now reinforced so very emphatically, had struck her as basically unacceptable. When, in movies, a villainous guy had indicated—by a push on a girl’s head or even by a finger pointing to the floor—that a girl must suck his cock, Sarah had always told herself that what she felt in response merely showed the strength of her revulsion for such inequality.

Dr. Adams put the head of the dildo to her lips. It felt cool and rubbery. It must feel nothing like a real cock, of course, right? But the symbolism, and the idea that there was in fact a strong resemblance between the plastic thing and the cock of the man who would, Sarah recalled with a shiver, apparently soon make her suck his real cock, seemed to make her pussy flow even as it made her heart quail.

“Open your mouth, Sarah,” said Dr. Adams. “We must silence that unruly tongue of yours.”

Unruly tongue:
another ritual phrase? It certainly sounded strange coming from a doctor. As she hesitated, he rubbed the artificial cock’s head along her lips, then slapped it very gently against her cheeks, saying, “A man will often do this with his penis, if you keep your mouth closed. He enjoys seeing the way his penis looks up against your face. But if you keep refusing to give him his rights, he will soon become angry, and he’ll whip you, Sarah, until you do. I don’t think you want me to whip you, do you?”

Sarah gave a little sob as she opened her mouth, and Dr. Adams thrust the dildo inside.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Now try to relax your throat as I begin the thrusting. Note that the latex is firm, but not terribly hard. A man’s penis is similar, though not, of course, exactly the same. You must be careful to hold your teeth as widely apart as you can.”

It was so thick, and its thrusting length so long. Sarah supposed she had imagined that a cock might feel like an overlarge mouthful of food, but it wasn’t like that at all. It felt, whether because the idea had lain latent in so many of the things everyone she had encountered so far at Ostia had said or because something about it simply inhered in the act, like the latex cock mastered her, thrusting hard and deep and fast. She strained against the cuffs that bound her wrists as she gagged for the first time, forgetting that she could not use her hands to ward off the cock.