Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance) (9 page)

Controlled by His Voice 3

Chapter 1

"You did what?" said Dan.

"I answered that Submission Training ad that was posted
on the bulletin board in the vestibule right across from Lindy C's," I said.

"Oh my God, you're going all
Fifty Shades
on me, sister. I don't know if I like this. What happened to the Meghan I've always known?"

We were in the Student Lounge. I had Atmospheric Dynamics II at 11 and I hadn't seen Dan in a few days so we met up for a chat.

"I'm not sure, Dan. I feel like I'm becoming someone else."

"Me too. I'm a little surprised at my new life as well."

I wasn't sure how much of my adventure with Tristan Slade I wanted to share yet. I knew eventually I'd tell Dan everything, like I always do. It just felt too soon. So I decided to let him talk.

"Well," I said, "we only have fifteen minutes and I haven't heard yet about the wild crazy five-star but weird sex you had with your new girlfriend Nikki."

"Yeah," Dan said and looked down.
Is he blushing?
"I know. I'm not so sure about that anymore."

"Why? I thought you said she was the one, although that would make her the 150th girl you've said that about in the last four years."

"No, I really thought she was but I just don't know if I can handle it."

"Handle what?"

Dan just looked at me, trying to decide if he was really going to tell me something or not.

"She has a cock," he said.

The textbook that I had been reading before Dan showed up fell to the floor. I leaned down to pick it up.

"Say what?" I said.

"She has a cock," he said. "There. I said it. Are you happy? She has an eight-inch cock. Bigger than mine."

Please don't laugh, Meghan. Keep yourself together. That would be awful.

"So she's a guy," I said.

"No, we had a long talk about that. She's definitely a girl."

"Ummm... Dan... the last time I looked guys have cocks and girls have pussies."

"Meghan! What are you, stuck in the 1950s? You even wrote a paper on transgender stuff a couple of years ago for that sociology class."

"Yes, Dan. You're right. I'm sorry."

We both just sat there, looking at each other.

"I'm not gay," Dan said.

"I know you're not," I said. "You've always liked girls. And she's a girl. She just happens to have a... penis."

Another long uncomfortable pause while I tried not to be an insensitive bitch by laughing.

"So how did you two... you know... do it?" I said.

He leaned down and put his hands over his eyes, mumbling something.

"What?" I said. "I didn't hear you."

"She fucked me in the ass," he said a little too loud. "She fucked me in the ass, okay?! Several times now. And I like it! I
really
like it. Okay? Are you happy now?"

The room went silent. Three other students on a nearby couch were staring at Dan. One caught my eye.

"I gotta go," he said as he got up. He had turned beet red.

"Dan," I said, "it's okay."

He grabbed his bag and was gone in a flash.

Well, holy fuck. Maybe none of us are normal.

And why would we want to be?

My dad was finally situated back in his bed at home. He was walking with the cane they gave him and seemed to be in good spirits.

I had gone out to Market Basket to get some food for him and I was loading it in the refrigerator.

I looked at the old clock on the wall. 12:30. I had to be in Manchester-by-the-Sea at 2.

The clock was the same cheap K-Mart special that hung there every day while I grew up. It reminded me of my mother making dinner, always in a rush to feed Dad and me so she could get to her Bible study meeting on time.

"Dad," I said when a commercial interrupted the basketball game he was watching, "how did you and Mom get together?"

"Fuck if I remember," he said. "That was two lifetimes ago."

"Come on, Dad. I know you remember. How come you never want to talk about it?"

"Because I'm watching the game."

"It's just that... you and she were so different. I was just wondering..."

"Well, stop wondering and get on with your life. People spend too much time wondering. And while you're here, can you grab me another beer?"

"Yeah, sure."

I went to the basement and brought up a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. May as well make it easy for him and bring all six.

I put the beer on the nightstand next to his bed, peeled a can out of the plastic, cracked it open, and handed it to him. The commercial break was over and my Dad was paying rapt attention again.

"Thanks, Punchy," he said. "Luv ya, kid."

"So, Dad," I said, "I'll come back tonight about eleven, okay? Dinner is all set for you. It's on a plate in the fridge. Just heat it up in the microwave, okay?"

On the television screen, a Boston Celtic made what looked like an easy throw but missed the basket.

"Aw, fuck, how could he have missed that? He was right on top of it!"

"Did you hear me, Dad?"

"Yeah, sure. Dinner's in the fridge. Thanks. I just wish we had teams like we used to have. The Bruins suck. The Pats suck. Now the Celtics suck."

"I'll see you later, Dad."

"Okay," he said.

As I drove to Manchester-by-the-Sea in the brilliant afternoon sunshine, made all the more bright by the reflection from the recent snowfall, I tried figuring out what was bothering me.

I just threw away a relationship that was perfect and normal. There I go with that word again.
Normal.
What does it mean? Why does it seem so important to me?

Was my parents' relationship normal? No, definitely not. My mom going off to preach the Word of God while my dad drank beer and watched sports. Never any real communication between them. That's not normal.

Jake and I had a lot of communication.
Normal, right?
But Jake didn't reach inside the darkest most hidden part of my brain and pull out my fantasy about being arrested, did he? How did a perfect stranger get to that in seconds?

Shit, there's the house. I'm here.
God, what a spectacular place!

I looked at my watch. 1:55. A few minutes early. Should I sit in the car? No, I think I'll just walk to the door.

I got out of my car and walked to the big oak door. I felt the same anticipatory excitement that I felt the last time. But this time I didn't know what to anticipate.

I had cleaned myself out really well again, just in case. I still wasn't sure about the anal thing, but that was quite an incredible orgasm. And I never squirted before.

I rang the bell. In a few moments, he opened the door and his stunning eyes met mine again. I felt a throb down below. Damn, every fucking time.

"Meghan!" he said. "Come on in!"

His friendly smiley personality was back again. If I didn't know what he was capable of, it would have turned me off. I knew, though, that just beneath the surface was a coiled viper of intensity that could make me come on command.

"How are you?" he said.

"Fine," I said.

"Come on back to the lounge."

As we walked I noticed how his ass muscles bulged under the fabric of his dress pants. I resisted the urge to reach out and squeeze.

We sat in the same room as before with the low coffee table.

"Now I have some questions for you before we get started," he said. "This won't take long. Coffee?"

"No, thanks," I said.

His crisp white shirt had very fine blue stripes in it. It tapered down to his waist nicely. I could picture the abs. I know he has a six-pack. I can sense them. A girl knows. I imagined how they would feel as my tongue traveled over them.

"Okay, first I want you to choose a safe word," he said. "I'm certain I don't have to explain to you what that is."

"No," I said, "I mean yes, that is, I know what it means."

His shoulders stretched the fabric of the dress shirt when his arm moved. The sleeves were tight around his arms where the biceps bulged a little. I took a deep breath and held it.

"Good. So what do you want to use as your safe word?"

Shit, he's going to make me think. Can't he see I'm horny as hell and just want to get on with it?

"Um... folly."

"Folly?"

"Yes. You know. Like Seward's Folly."

"Interesting choice. Why that word?"

"No reason. It was just a question on
Jeopardy!
last night."

"Okay," he said, writing that down.

I was unable to avert my eyes from his face. His lips were perfect. Not too thick like a girl's but not a thin slash either. His teeth glistened when he spoke. I so wanted to roll my tongue all around them.

"Now," he said, "if you are gagged and unable to speak, what hand signal would you like to use as your safe word?"

Gagged and unable to speak?
A hot fire shot into my pussy.

"Um," I said, "I hadn't thought about it. I don't know."

I held up two fingers and shrugged.

"Fine," he said. "Now let's talk about hard limits."

I knew this was coming. I had rehearsed a list.

"I have a checklist," he said as he handed me a pre-printed page and held out a pen.

I took the pen and immediately dropped it. My fingers were so moist with cold sweat that it just slid out of my hand.

"Sorry," I said as I bent down to pick it up.

"That's okay," he said.

On the paper was a vast list of activities. I made sure to check
Hard Beating, Paddles, Bodily Waste, Animals,
and
Heavy Pain.
And a handful of others.

"Hm," he said. "Good. That's what I expected from a student. We can always modify this list later if you feel you want to push your limits further. This gives us quite a good start, though."

"Great," I said, wishing we could just fucking start already. Before I leap across this table and lick your neck.

"And I have a quick form for you to sign. It's just a simple contract stating that you agree to submission training."

He handed it to me and I looked it over. It was very simple, much less complicated than some of the ones I had looked up online. I signed it.

He took it and wrote some more notes. I looked out the window to help control my thoughts about him. The ocean was a deep blue in today's sunshine, small caps of white hitting the rocks below.

"Okay, time to begin then," he said. "Strip."

Strip.
Such a delightful word.

Like a good obedient submissive in training, I took off all my clothes. I put them in a neat pile on the couch and remained standing. I felt a relief wash over me. Being clothed in front of him felt wrong.

He just kept making notes.
What the fuck is he writing?

A few minutes went by and he didn't even look up at me.
Look at my body, dammit! Look at me! This is all for you! It's yours. Just take it!

He got up and left the room without a word. I kept standing there. A ray of sunshine hit my feet. It felt good, sending a warmth all up and through me. But what I really wanted was a long thick warmth inside me.

Fuck, is this a test?
He's been gone for about five minutes. Is it all right to sit down? Has training actually begun for the day? If it has, I'd better not sit down. The way he said "Strip" sounded like he was in mentor mode.

He walked back into the room.
Thank God.
I don't mind standing here all day if I can just look at him.

In his hand was a black blindfold and some rope. My toes tingled in anticipation.

He just stood there, appraising me up and down. I loved the fact his eyes could see all of me. I hope he notices the hot wetness my pussy has made for him.

"Turn around," he said.

I obeyed. We stayed like that for about a minute. I can almost feel his stare like a warm laser beam dancing all over me
.
If Tristan Slade is admiring my body, then all is right with the world.

"Have you ever been blindfolded before?" he said. His voice indicated he was moving closer to me.

"No," I said.

I sensed him standing directly behind me. I smelled his cologne and felt a slight body heat. My knees shook.

Then I felt a finger trace across my shoulder. It was accompanied by his lips on the side of my neck, just barely touching. I heard a sharp intake of air.

"Mmmm... you smell nice," he said.

Oh God, just fuck me! Just grab me, bite me, throw me down, and fuck the living shit out of me!

The world plunged into darkness. His hands caressed my hair as he adjusted the blindfold in place. He drifted a finger across my ear. I shivered.

Then he lightly touched my shoulders, tracing lines down my arms. I felt something warm on my back, right below my shoulder blades. It was wet. Was that his tongue?
Oh God, I think he just licked me.
I stifled a grunt as my greedy clit squirmed.

His hands were at my wrists. He turned them upward. I felt the rope wrap around me. He made a series of knots and tightened them. I was bound and blindfolded.

I felt the heat of his body and the soft silky texture of his shirt move slightly to my left. His right hand wrapped around both of my wrists where they were joined by the rope. He pushed them into the small of my back, signaling me to walk.

I can't believe this is happening to me. It's not a book I'm reading. It's not a porn video. It's fucking real!

He led me in what felt like circles. We went up stairs, left, right, then down stairs, making me duck at one point. The floor went from hardwood to carpeting to cold concrete.

Then a cold stone staircase that seemed to descend forever. Fuck, how far down are we?

Then I heard a door open. Sounded like a large heavy metal door. Then it shut with a clang. Then the thud of a heavy lock.

He tightened his grip on the rope, tightening it around my wrists. He pulled me in close to him. My pussy felt swollen like it was going to burst.

"I want you to see this," Tristan said.

I felt the blindfold loosening. As it fell away, I saw that I was in a room lined with brick. No windows. It was very dark, lit only by two dim spotlights. One was red and one was blue.

But what made me gasp was what was in the center of the room. I had a flashback to seventh grade history class when I saw it.

Sitting there was an old wooden stockade, just like the one the Puritans used to punish the "morally indecent." I remember the drawing in my classroom textbook, depicting a man locked in a stockade in the public square while the citizenry walked by and spat on him.

A hole for a neck and two smaller holes on either side for wrists. There was a straight-line cut directly through all three holes separating the top flip-up part from the bottom, secured to a heavy post. On the right side was a sturdy lock that holds the upper part in place once the offender has been inserted.

I knew where I was headed and the thought of it sent a wave of fear-laced thrill throughout my body.

"I wanted you to see where you will be spending the afternoon," he said. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, mentor", I said.

"I bought it at auction. It's a restored 19th-century replica of an original. Such a terrible time. One would have been placed in one of these just for having unclean thoughts. Just like you."

"Yes, mentor."

"
You
have unclean thoughts, don't you Meghan?"

"Yes, mentor." My voice wavered, trembling with anticipation.

He eased me forward, placing me directly in front of the device. He moved to my right, undid the lock, and flipped up the top. He untied my wrists.

"I think you know what to do," he said.

"Yes, mentor," I said.

I leaned forward, putting my wrists in the two holes on either side of me. The nipples of my naked breasts touched the old splintery wood before I moved my neck into position, sending electric shivers all through me.

Tristan eased the top back down and locked it. I was pinned in place.

I shook a bit, testing the strength of the stockade. Very well made. I wasn't going anywhere.

My feet were on the floor and my back was arched with my ass up in the air. I didn't have much of a choice. This is the position I'm going to be in until somebody lets me out of this. Or I die. I heard the theme to
Criminal Minds
play in my head somewhere but I told it to be quiet.

I saw him move in front of me. His expensive shoes glistened, even in the dim light of this room.

"Now you get your first reward," he said.

Reward.
I love the sound of that word. He moved down to my right ear and whispered.

"Would you like to see my cock?" he said.

"Yes, mentor," I said, trying to tamp down my sheer delight at the question.

He reached down and slowly undid his zipper. He unlatched his belt and down went his pants. Out flopped the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

God, yes!
I almost believed that I had the strength to bust out of this machine and devour it. It was glorious.

Jake's was average size and curved a bit. I had no complaints, though. It always got me to orgasm very nicely.

But this...
this!
... was a work of art. At least seven inches. Maybe eight. Perfectly straight. And hard. He was obviously excited.

I saw it moving toward me.
God yes, please go in my mouth!

But he veered right into nothingness. Then laughed.

"You're such a cockhound, aren't you?" he said.

"Yes, mentor," I said.

"Tell me how much you love cock."

"I love cock, mentor."

"Go on... get descriptive, Little Miss Meteorologist. Flex those Composition 101 brain muscles."

"I love everything about cock, mentor. I love its shape. I love balls. I love having it inside me."