Sarah's Education (22 page)

Gazing up into his eyes, Sarah told him, I really need an orgasm, please, John.’

‘Do you now?’

‘I said “Please”.’

‘I know you did, but “please” isn’t enough, is it?’ He dipped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth without breaking the rhythm of his thrusts.

‘What do you want me to say?’

He released her nipple. ‘What do you
need
to say?’

‘Need?’

‘I know your needs, sweet little Sarah. You need the right sort of pain. You need to submit. Then there’s the other thing. Confess, Sarah. Tell me what the other thing is.’

‘To be fucked?’

‘Apart from that.’

‘I …’ Not long before she’d fantasised about his foot pressing on her neck. That was submission, but more. A submissive obeys her master and that’s one level of descent. She’d never so much as considered it before today, before John, but now that she realised that there was something lower than submission, she also understood that she craved those depths.

‘I think I need to be humiliated and degraded, John.’

‘Good girl. Or should I say, bad girl? Now humiliate yourself, Sarah. Beg me to let you come. Acknowledge the reality. You can’t climax until I give you my permission, can you?’

And she couldn’t have. Now that he’d explained it, it was obvious. With other men, she’d probably be able to get there normally, but John had somehow taken control of her lust and it wouldn’t be assuaged until he said it might.

Although lust confused her mind, Sarah ordered her thoughts, composing her words carefully. ‘John, my master, my climaxes are yours to give me or deny me. Your humble slave is begging you, pleading, please,
please
, have mercy on your little bitch, your sex slave. Grant my wish as only you can do; let me fucking well come!’

‘As you ask so nicely. On ten, then. One, two …’

The arrogant bastard! He thought he had that much control over her, did he? He actually thought that he could launch her orgasm like some fucking rocket? Still, she found his arrogance
exciting
. He ground into her, crushing her clit with each deep and deliberate stroke. She was so fucking close to coming. So goddam fucking close …

‘Eight, nine,
ten
!’

The climax hit hard. Her eyes opened wide as her hot tunnel gripped and released his cock, squeezing a surprised ‘yip’ from her lips. It kept coming, rolling through her from the paroxysms in her pussy up the back of her spine, blowing her mind and making her yelp over and over again. ‘Yip, yip, yip, yip.’

He thrust hard and stayed buried inside her, his moan building to a great leonine roar.

15

IT WAS TEN
in the morning when Sarah woke. John was still asleep, with his arm a welcome but heavy weight across her body. She eased out from under it and out of bed. In the bathroom, she checked her bum. It was fully healed, or almost. There was just a faint trace of deeper pink on the underside of its left cheek.

She showered on ‘gentle’ to minimise the noise. Once she was dry, she padded softly back into the bedroom. He slept on. Kilt or no kilt? No kilt. Wearing it would be a return to her ‘schoolgirl’ persona.

His flannels had been discarded, tossed across the back of a straight chair. Moving carefully so as not to jingle any change in its pockets, Sarah eased his belt from its loops. His right hand was still flung out. She sat on the bed, lifted his wrist gently onto her lap, and pressed the buckle end of his belt into his palm. John snuffled and shifted. Sarah froze until he settled down once more. With infinite care, she wrapped the leather strap round his hand until just eighteen inches dangled free.

How to wake him? How else? She lifted the bedclothes and exposed his naked body. His left leg was forwards of his right. The soft length of his shaft lay along his thigh. Sarah moved lower down the bed, curled up and rested her cheek on his leg. A tender finger lifted his cock. Her head moved forwards, mouth wide open. With the head of John’s cock in her mouth, Sarah settled down to wait, but not for long. Her lips felt a pulse. The head of his cock lifted off her tongue a fraction. She closed her lips around its shaft in case it tried to escape.

John yawned and said, ‘Good morning, slut Sarah.’

Sarah gurgled a, Good morning,’ around his shaft.

‘By what you’ve done with my belt, I guess you’re after something harder than a spanking.’

She nodded.

‘Show me your bottom.’

Sarah swivelled round without losing his cock.

His palm smoothed over her cheeks. ‘You heal well.’

‘ ’hank ’ou.’

‘Do you have a date for tomorrow?’

She shook her head, moving his cock head from inside one cheek to inside the other.

‘So if you were marked for a day or two, it wouldn’t be awkward for you?’

Sarah shook her head again.

‘You do understand that a beating with a belt is far more severe than a spanking by hand, don’t you?’

She nodded.

‘But you’re ready for that?’

Sarah took his cock from her mouth but held onto it. I’m ready, John. I’d be able to stop you if it was more than I could stand, wouldn’t I?’ She took his cock back between her lips and gave it a long suck.

‘Of course you would.’

Once more, she released him to the open air. I’m going to get strapped someday, John. I’d rather it was by you than by some amateur.’

‘Good point. Very well, you shall have your beating, but after breakfast. What would you like? Better keep it light.’

‘A fruit salad, please, John, and maybe some toast?’

‘Good choices.’ He ordered a small steak with a fried egg on top for himself, with a side of hash browns, a pot of Blue Mountain coffee and a carafe of Buck’s Fizz.

‘What’s Buck’s Fizz?’ Sarah asked.

‘Champagne and orange juice, sometimes served with a float of grenadine.’

Sarah grinned. ‘That sounds lovely and decadent, for a breakfast drink.’

His face took on a concerned look. ‘You’re obsessing about “decadence”, Sarah.’

‘Is that bad?’

‘Not with the right people, but not everyone follows the “Safe, Sane, Consensual” rule. You will be careful who you submit to in future, won’t you?’

Sarah’s heart lifted. He cared, really cared, what became of her after their date.

They wore their robes for the benefit of room service. Sarah shed hers the moment the boy left their suite. Being stark naked while John was still at least partly dressed somehow seemed appropriate for a good little sex slave.

John ate a little awkwardly, with his belt still wrapped around his fist. As Sarah picked at her salad, every sway of the free-hanging end drew her eyes, like a rabbit following the movements of a cobra. But this rabbit couldn’t wait to feel the cobra’s bite. Or could she? It was going to hurt, really hurt. She could beg off. John would allow that, she knew. But if she did, she’d be showing cowardice, and she needed his respect. Undecided, Sarah did what she always did when in a serious quandary, she made her mind go blank and let whatever was going to happen, happen.

Her mind still in a fog, she was led to the bed and spreadeagled once more. John secured her wrists to the brass scrolls. Seemingly without effort, he lifted her bottom off the bed, lifted it high, right over her head, and manacled her ankles, wide apart, to the top of the bedhead. A pile of pillows under her shoulders made the awkward position more comfortable. Nice man. Sarah gazed up at her delta from only a foot beneath it. Pretty pussy.

John made a few adjustments to her bonds and her legs, so that her thighs were perfectly horizontal, parallel to the bed. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you ready?’

She couldn’t really nod, not folded like that, so Sarah was forced to vocalise her affirmative, though not in articulate
words
, even though she wasn’t sure what he was asking her. When you don’t quite understand what’s going on, ‘yes’ is best, or at least, easiest.

John stroked the undersides of her thighs. Nice. That wasn’t why she was contorted like that, though, was it? He rested the loose end of his belt across her legs, halfway between her knees and her upturned bottom, then moved it a little higher.

‘This is above where the hem of your skirts usually come to, isn’t it?’

Why was that significant? Whatever, she made another ‘yes’ sound.

The leather strap lifted. That meant something, something frightening but thrilling, she didn’t think about what. The belt came down, hard. Sarah yelped involuntarily. A line of fire burnt across the backs of her thighs.

‘You still want it? You can still change your mind.’

‘Um, want, yes.’

Leather cracked down again, an inch higher. Sarah emerged from her fog. Oh fuck! It was really happening. What had she let herself in for? Was she crazy?

The third and fourth and fifth blows landed, each closer to her bottom. Pain seared into her. Tears were streaming from her eyes and she’d almost decided that she was ready to face the humiliation of begging him to stop when the sixth whacked down on the lower curves of her bum cheeks, and she was suddenly in absolute bliss.

The belt progressed from low on her bottom to halfway up it, where her cheeks were fullest, then made their way down towards her thighs again. Her flesh was glowing embers. Each blow reignited the skin it landed on. The pain was hellish and heavenly. It was as if she’d taken some powerful euphoriant that had set her spirit free to soar through and to pure delight. Her thighs and her bottom had been transformed by ecstatic agony. Deep inside, she was starting to clench.

Something dripped onto her chin. Of course! Her sex was weeping with joy. The internal convulsions accelerated and became stronger. She was so fucking close! Sarah knew she
could
take the belt forever, yet when it fell to the bed she moaned with relief.

Something – his fingers? – forced entrance to her sex and drove deeply into her pussy. The invader pistoned. Other fingers manipulated her clit.

Sarah heard herself shouting, ‘Love it! Love it!’ The fingers forced their way even further into her, into where she was clamping rhythmically, and triggered – ‘Yip, yip, yip, yip!’ – erotic bliss.

Things were white and fuzzy for a bit. When Sarah opened her weary eyes, John had released her and covered her with bedclothes.

‘How was it?’ he asked.

‘Paradise. Devastating paradise.’

‘I’m glad. Now you should rest.’

‘But you?’

‘We can take care of me later.’

‘No, I want to … Only fair …’ And she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again he was at the little table, reading a book. There was a platter of tiny triangular sandwiches, some of them eaten. She could smell fresh coffee.

‘Coffee?’ she asked.

He poured a cup, added cream and brought it to her. Rolling onto one side to drink hurt, but in a nice way.

‘You were very brave,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ He likely wouldn’t understand if she tried to explain that courage had nothing to do with it. When she’d submitted and endured, she hadn’t been herself. She’d been some sort of automaton. ‘I’m feeling fine now,’ she said. I don’t think I could lie on my back, not with you on top of me, but I’d really like to do something nice for you, if you’d let me?’

‘Have a sandwich. Then let’s talk. Tell me all about yourself, nothing that you wouldn’t want to, but I’d really like to get to know Sarah, outside of her obvious skills and gorgeous attributes.’

Sarah lay on her tummy, John beside her, and they chatted the afternoon away. She discovered that he was quite knowledgeable about philosophy, for a layman. When it came to her second area of expertise, he claimed to know very little about drama, but revealed snippets that made her doubt that. He had attended a lecture on acting that Michael Caine had given, and had been so impressed he was able to recite parts of it verbatim. He knew of the works of various dramatists, from Marlowe and Kyd through Sheridan and Feydeau, to Joe Orton and Edward Albee. She concluded that he was a real Renaissance man, complete with a knowledge of Italian, French and German. She practised her Italian on him, including her favourite phrase, ‘
Fottere mia bocca, per favore’
.

That made him laugh out loud. ‘I don’t think you’re up for that, not yet,’ he told her, ‘but perhaps a little slow and gentle fellatio, if you don’t mind?’

Sarah reversed on the bed, gingerly, and took him into her mouth with some sadness. Their date was almost over. Chances were, she’d never see this marvellous man again.

He let her mumble and lick and suck for a while before he began to fondle her pussy, very gently. She sucked a little harder and nodded an inch or two. Neither of them was in a hurry, thank goodness. She was too stiff and sore for any frantic activity. Eventually, she climaxed, just a soft little clench and release. A little later he emptied into her mouth. They dozed for a while until he touched her shoulder.

‘Time for you to go, I’m afraid, sweet Sarah.’

‘You have me till ten and that’s another hour yet.’

‘I have a plane to catch. It’s time for me to start getting packed and ready.’

‘Take a later plane?’

‘I must return to my real life. I’m sorry.’ The kiss he gave her, though sweet, stifled her protests, definitely signalling farewell.

When Sarah got down to her Volvo she sat in it for a while before starting its engine. She hardly cried at all.

16

WHAT ARE YOU
and David planning for New Year’s Eve, Sarah?’ Mr Meadows took another bite of turkey leg and chewed, open-mouthed. ‘Delishush’, he told his wife.

Sarah dropped her eyes to avoid grimacing at his poor table manners. She’d never realised, until this trip home, how lacking in etiquette he was. No wonder her sister habitually ate with one hand up to her face, like a blinkered horse.

‘We’ll probably go to a dinner party at the university. Unless something better comes up.’ She toyed with a Brussels sprout. The very mention of David made her stomach queasy. She hadn’t managed to break up with him before leaving Toledo for the Christmas holidays. ‘What about you, Donna?’