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Her hands trembled as she stepped into a stall. Her eyes watered as she reached under her skirt and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. Pulling down her underwear in a bathroom was a rote matter for her. Something she did several times a day. But this time…
A twinge of shame snaked through her that she enjoyed this so much. What would her fellow women’s studies majors think of her if they could see her now?
Her heart pounded. Perspiration beaded between her breasts. The slow, rough slide of stretchy lace as it moved down her thighs, as she leaned against the cold metal of the stall wall to brace herself, as she lifted one foot and then the other to do as her Mistress had bidden her.
It was erotic. Forbidden. Sexy as fuck.
She ached to pause, to rub one out right here, right now. But Vivien—Ma’am—had told her she was impatient and Polly’s desire to please her overrode her physical need to come.
She didn’t understand it. She’d come here thinking she was doing this out of curiosity, appeasing Mallory. Just when had that changed? Polly couldn’t get a grip on it. All that seemed to matter was appeasing the hard-edged desire making her pussy cream like crazy.
Swallowing thickly, she rolled the lavender lace into a tight ball and pulse racing, she delivered the panties to Ma’am.
Vivien’s hand brushed hers in the exchange. “Well done. You may have your pie now.” She discreetly slipped the panties in her handbag.
Noticing Vivien had already covered the tab, Polly sat and picked at the pie but she couldn’t really taste it. All of her attention was fixed on the incessant throbbing between her thighs and the desperate need for more. If Vivien had offered she’d have gone home with her on the spot.
Vivien handed her a card. “Visit my website, sign in with this username and password then fill out the checklist. Be at the address on the back tomorrow at nine sharp. Be sure to eat prior. I don’t want you to pass out.”
“Okay.”
Vivien stood, cupped Polly’s chin and tilted her face up so their eyes met. “I’ll give you that one,” the dominatrix said, her voice so soft no one else could possibly overhear. “But from now on it will be ‘yes Ma’am’.”
Lust shivered through Polly as she breathed in the faint fragrance of expensive perfume and when those silky fingers left her face, she ached for their loss.
Awed, she watched as Vivien walked out of the café. The seams on the backs of her stockings drew Polly’s gaze up and over Vivien’s pinup-worthy figure, her shapely ass and tiny waist.
Having realized she was a lesbian since her teens, Polly had never shied away from finding another woman attractive but this…
This was unadulterated, shameless lust.
She’d never thought she’d experience such a visceral reaction to another woman.
Polly peeped through the partially open blinds as a shiny black Bentley pulled up to the curb. A woman dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform, complete with a smart-looking hat, stepped out, skirted the car and opened the back door for Vivien.
Vivien slid inside. The driver closed the door and returned to her seat, then the car drove away.
Polly whistled through her teeth. What had she gotten herself into?
This meeting wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Shit. She didn’t really know what she’d thought would happen.
She’d envisioned a light getting-to-know-you song and dance, nervous laughter, smiles. Reassurance.
The encounter was anything but.
Instead uncertainty nibbled at her. Fear and shame were overshadowed by erotic need that threatened to consume her. And now, here she sat alone. Sans panties. Fuck.
She didn’t understand it. This desire went against everything she’d previously thought about herself. It made her wonder who she really was.
Who she’d be after tomorrow.
The only thing she knew for certain was that she was eager to get home and start on Ma’am’s checklist.
* * * * *
Vivien stared unseeing as downtown Nashville blurred past the car window. Polly Purefoy. Vivien inhaled. Damn Mallory. A smirk played on Vivien’s lips and she reached into her purse to retrieve the lace panties she’d been given.
No fuss. No stammering. The girl had simply done as told.
Vivien lifted the purple lace and breathed in the scent of fresh detergent and the underlying sweetness of aroused pussy.
Mallory knew her far too well. Knew her type. Knew that doe-eyed look that made Vivien weak in the knees in spite of the fact she was in control.
Everything was different now though.
No matter how sweetly submissive and sexy Polly was Vivien had resolved to stay hard. Distant.
She’d only let one client into her heart before. That one had broken it.
And it would never—never—happen again.
* * * * *
Doubt plagued Polly anew as she went through Vivien’s checklist. As she marked her level of compliance on each item she realized how much control she still possessed. She would not be subjected to anything she didn’t want or couldn’t handle.
What bothered Polly most was the fact that though she’d never tried many of the elements on the list, she found herself marking them with a cautious yes.
Anal play. Spanking. Paddles. Floggers. Bondage. Sensory deprivation. Discipline. Orgasm control.
She emphatically nixed body modification, biting and being suspended upside down. A few other things on the checklist that she didn’t even want to imagine got a big fat no as well.
She read back over it, pausing on item number sixty-seven. Sex—cunnilingus—sexually stimulating the vagina with the mouth/tongue.
Polly visualized her Mistress’ hand tangled in her hair as she pulled her face toward a sweet, musky pussy. Polly inhaled. Her mouth watered as she imagined sliding her tongue through slippery folds, flicking it over a hardened clit, probing a juicy cunt…
Making Ma’am come.
Nope. She wouldn’t need much coercion to taste Vivien.
Making sure she’d checked essential on that one, she then clicked Submit.
A message flashed on the screen.
Your requests have been submitted successfully. Well done. You shall be rewarded.
Polly’s breath caught at the thought of being rewarded by Vivien. But common sense intruded. This was crazy. Mallory Hayes had to be insane to even suggest such a thing. Then again Sherri seemed to enjoy it.
Vivien’s silky voice played like a mantra in Polly’s head, telling her to take off her panties. Polly’d known that moment that she wanted this.
After all, she’d filled out the form. She’d agreed to remove her panties. She’d wanted to remove them. She’d wanted to please her Mistress.
And wasn’t doing what one wanted and behaving in an empowering way what feminism was all about?
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. At the very least tomorrow was going to be interesting.
* * * * *
Vivien’s studio was in an old warehouse section of Nashville that was being reclaimed by concert venues, boutiques and art galleries. The only marker on the nondescript building was a street number over an industrial-chic metal door.
Polly hesitated before pushing it open and stepping into a vestibule worthy of the door and trendy location.
Plush Oriental rugs adorned the concrete floor. Several antique chandeliers, hanging at varying lengths from the black steel rafters, cast an almost-Gothic-cathedral glow on the dark exposed-brick walls. Ornate mirrors gave the otherwise cold entry a cozy feel, though seeing her reflection made Polly even more self-aware than she’d been when she stepped inside.
The foyer narrowed at the back where crimson velvet curtains flanked a beautifully carved, wooden door that shielded the rest of the building from view.
Polly’s imagination ran rampant with the thought of what was behind that door.
The knob twisted, the door opened and Vivien stepped out. Dressed in a f
ormfitting black skirt, shiny, expensive-looking heels, a crisp white blouse and tailored black jacket, she didn’t quite embody the dominatrix stereotype Polly had expected.
In her fantasies a flogger-wielding Vivien had been wearing black latex, stockings and jackboots.
No hi-how-do-you-do or even a smile of greeting. Vivien’s hard gaze raked her from head to toe. “You’re on time. Good.”
Not sure how to respond, Polly cleared her throat.
After a few heart-stopping seconds Vivien made a little noise of derision. “For every instance you fail to respond or acknowledge me in the manner I require, you will be punished.”
Polly’s pulse began to pound. “Y-yes Ma’am.”
Vivien shook her head. “Too little, too late.” Then one corner of her mouth twitched up in a diabolical smile that made Polly want to run for the exit.
Instead her gaze traveled to the black-velvet darkness behind Vivien.
“You ate breakfast?”
Polly nodded and then remembered to whom she was speaking. “Yes Ma’am.”
“I received and have gone over your checklist. Today’s training will be about learning the ropes. Both literally and figuratively.” Vivien drew back one of the crimson curtains to reveal a dressing room. “The outside door to the studio will be locked. You can leave your things in here.”
Polly’s gaze riveted to the ornate brass hooks on the dressing room wall. “Do I—”
“I will tell you everything you need to know. No need to ask.” Vivien’s tone was completely businesslike. “Step inside. Take off all your clothes. All of them. Then come back out here, kneel on the carpet and wait for me.”
Liquid dampened Polly’s panties. As she crossed the entry to the dressing room an out-of-control mix of anticipation, dread and excitement fired through her body, awakening every nerve ending. Every muscle and tendon. Every inch of her skin.
She glanced into Vivien’s eyes, hoping to find a smidgeon of humor, lust, anything, but that beautiful face was as devoid of emotion as a mannequin’s. Polly wondered how she could feel so much while Vivien didn’t seem affected in the least.
Once she was inside the dressing area Vivien released the curtain. It fell with a swoosh. As Polly stepped out of her wedge heels and began to undo the buttons on the front of her high-waisted retro shorts, she listened to the sound of Vivien’s heels as the dominatrix walked toward the door.
A click of metal and the door was locked. The lights dimmed.
This was happening. Really happening.
The interior door closed and Polly realized Vivien had left the entry hall. Polly stepped out of her shorts and hung them on the hook. Though the garment hadn’t covered her legs, she felt exposed without it. She slipped her striped shirt off over her head, hung it alongside the shorts and then reached behind to undo her bra.
Naked.
Completely naked.
She’d thought maybe Vivien would at least let her keep her underwear on so she’d worn a cute matching set she’d bought at the Bettie Page store. Her nipples grew diamond-hard as soon as she was free of the vintage-inspired bra.
When she pulled down her panties she realized her pussy was drenched with wetness. Damn! Vivien hadn’t done anything but mindfuck her so far.
Peeping out of the curtain, Polly made sure she was alone before venturing out. All the things she’d agreed she was willing to try filtered through her thoughts. Nipple clamps. Butt plugs. Collars. Restraints. Blindfolds.
She shouldn’t have had that glass of wine before going through the checklist last night.
The foyer was now dark and shadowy. The red glow of a soft spotlight marked the place where she’d been instructed to kneel. Inhaling, Polly went to the spot and sank down on her knees.
A sense of sweet shame filled her at the knowledge she was naked and waiting for Ma’am. Expectant, she watched the door, her mouth dry as cotton, her body humming with desire.
All coherent thought—the normal chatter in her mind—drifted away as this situation transported her to another realm.
A realm where she wanted and needed Vivien to ravage her.
Long minutes passed. Polly ached with erotic hunger, gritting her teeth, willing Vivien to open the door.
Finally the knob turned and the hinges sang as the door swung open. Polly’s spine straightened. Her heart fluttered. She’d never dreamed she, of all people, would be so eager to submit.
Chapter Three
“Spread your knees apart. Hands behind your back.”
Polly swallowed against the thickness in her throat as she clasped her hands behind her waist. The position lifted her breasts in offering. Her thighs shook as she opened them, revealing her neatly trimmed sex to her mistress.
“Wider.”
Muscles burning, she inched her legs open farther, sensing the slick pull of her folds as they separated and unfurled like butterfly wings.
She’d never felt so alive, so sexually charged.
Gone was Vivien’s robotic responsiveness. With each command her eyes flashed, her body electrified. “This is how you wait for me from now on. When I order you to kneel this is how you will do so. Failure will result in swift and harsh punishment.”
Polly shivered. “Y-yes Ma’am.”
Vivien stalked toward her and stroked her hair. The touch was so tender and so surprising, Polly wanted to brush her face against her Mistress’ leg like a cat.
“So pretty,” Vivien murmured as she stooped and kneaded one of Polly’s nipples, the tension increasing until her breath caught.
Just when Polly was about to wince Vivien released that nipple in favor of the other. “There are many kinds of submissives,” Vivien said softly, taking her sweet time with this breast. “From your checklist I gleaned that you are a sexual submissive who needs to be gently shamed, forced to commit acts for which you could never ask but so desperately wish to try.”
Damn. That checklist put the Myers-Briggs test to shame.
“You crave punishment because you think it will justify your psychic pain, that it will release you to feel what you’ve been conditioned to repress.” Vivien’s fingers tightened as she spoke. She plucked the tip, drawing it out to the very edge of Polly’s resistance. “It’s okay to feel here. To hurt. To find yourself vulnerable and powerless. To let yourself cry.”
Vivien stepped away, releasing her. Polly’s nipples throbbed. She both thought she couldn’t bear anymore and yet wanted to be whisked to that threshold again.
“Are you ready to come inside?” Vivien asked.
“Yes Ma’am.” This time Polly’s voice was resolute. She couldn’t fucking wait to go inside.
“You will crawl on your hands and knees,” Vivien told her as she started back into the dark studio. “Follow me.”
Polly couldn’t have imagined herself naked and subservient, but when Vivien beckoned her, she readily clambered after her.
Dim, red lighting illuminated all manner of stations in the studio. From her online research Polly recognized a St. Andrew’s Cross, several different padded spanking tables and various hoists and rigging from which Ma’am could restrain or suspend her clients. On the wall, paddles, floggers, spreader bars, ropes, ribbons and whips hung from a series of hooks. An array of dildos and butt plugs, ranging from small to threateningly large, had been laid out like a surgeon’s kit on a table.
Her bravado flagged as Vivien stopped at one of the tables. It resembled something out of a sadistic doctor’s office. Padded with red leather it was designed to separate the legs and fully expose the crotch—all at Vivien’s eye level.
“On the table. I want to have a look at you.”
Polly drew in a faltering breath as she crawled onto the wide steps then up onto the table.
“On your back. Legs on the pads.”
Just like at the doctor’s office, Polly scooted her bottom to the edge and raised her legs onto the rests. Stirrups were uncomfortable enough but these torturous devices raised her legs
high and opened them wide. Restraints were in place but Vivien didn’t employ them.
“Hands behind your head.”
Polly laced her fingers as Vivien stepped between her legs.
“You’re wet,” Vivien said as she slid one neatly manicured finger through Polly’s slippery folds.
Polly shook with need. The touch was insidious and hinted at promise but teased in its delivery. Vivien’s fingertip explored with maddening slowness, tracing around her painfully aroused clitoris, down the other side of her labial lips, circling her opening before sweeping over the sensitive flesh between her cunt and her ass. Polly tensed as the finger prodded lower still, slick with cream as it eased threateningly around her rim.
Vivien leaned in close and inhaled. Her lashes fluttered as she ran her tongue across her own red lips. “I bet you taste like something sweet.”
“Please.” Polly heard herself whimper.
Vivien let out a menacing chuckle. “Already? Darling, you haven’t been punished yet.” Her gaze never left the spread-wide pussy before her.
Punishment? Tears filled Polly’s eyes. She’d never wanted someone’s touch, their tongue, as much as she wanted Ma’am’s right now. Was this not punishment enough?
Vivien’s eyes warmed as with both thumbs she stretched the lips open, the pressure making Polly want to writhe with pleasure. She loved the feel of her Mistress’s eyes on her, of being exposed and displayed. Need intoxicated her until she felt high.
Fingers kneaded her bottom, pressing close to her anus.
“Before we’re through,” Vivien whispered, “I’ll be inside your every orifice. I’ll take you and fuck you when and where I want, and when I’m done with you I’ll make you eat my pussy until I come.”
“Here.” Vivien’s finger slid to the second knuckle into Polly’s pussy. Polly sucked in a breath.
She whimpered as the finger left her cunt all too quickly. Her heart skipped a beat as the juice-slicked digit breached her rim and slid just as deeply into her ass.
“And here.”
The finger didn’t leave her bottom as quickly. It lingered while Polly’s inner tissue throbbed and adjusted to the invasion.