Old-Fashioned Values (17 page)

But the sound she made as she climaxed must have sounded to Mark’s ears like a sobbing scream of pain, because after he had come only a moment later, holding her hips in a vise-like grip that told her everything about the way he claimed her as his own property, he whispered, “Sally, I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what… happened.”

He pulled out of her pussy, leaving her bereft, and stepped back. Sally straightened up and turned around, to see that he had his hand over his eyes. Having his seed inside her, knowing that he had taken such pleasure fucking her, made her feel so good that it hurt, almost physically, to see how distressed he looked. She got down on her still trembling knees in front of him, with her own eyes downcast, looking at his beautiful cock, which glistened with moisture of her own arousal. “Thank you for my lesson, sir. I promise to obey you from now on.”

“What?”

Sally lowered her eyes further, to look at his bare feet, with his jeans and boxers bunched around them.

“Look up at me, Sally,” he said.

Sally obeyed, and saw confusion in his eyes. “Sir,” she said. “I would like to kiss your beautiful cock. May I, please?”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “Yes,” he finally said. Sally bent forward and laid her lips gently on the head, tasting that same naughty taste—the taste of herself—Mark had given her the day before, mingled now with a funny, slightly bitter, almost tongue-numbing taste: semen. It looked so different when it was soft, but under her lips it gave a little leap, which made Sally giggle.

“Look up, please, Sal,” he said again, his voice seeming to gain confidence at the sight of her worshipping him that way. She obeyed, and he said, “I thought I hurt you.”

Sally smiled. “You made me come,” she said.

“What? Seriously?”

Still smiling, Sally nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen.”

“That’s alright,” Mark said, finally smiling now himself. “Quite alright. Um. Stand up, please.”

Sally obeyed. “But it’s not alright, sir. I—”

She hadn’t consciously been trying to make it happen. But when the beast suddenly returned to Mark’s eyes, she felt certain that her unconscious had been at work, because the scary feeling returned, and now it was so delicious she almost had to sink to her knees.

“It’s alright if I say it’s alright, Sally.”

She felt her body tremble, and her pussy begin to flow again, already. Mark stepped forward and took her in his arms. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

He sat down on the bed and then, for the very first time, Mark sat Sally on his lap and hugged her like a little girl. Sally had thought that the beast was the most terrifyingly delicious thing that had happened yet in her romance with Mark, but in its own way sitting on his lap with her panties around her knees was even more delicious, though perhaps not terrifying, though the way her body responded to his aftercare did almost frighten her in its intensity. She clung to him and kissed his shirt over and over, as he rubbed her back.

“God, I love you, Sal. I really didn’t hurt you?”

She giggled. “Well, the belt hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be—I mean, I know I’m not allowed to say, but I’m not sorry. I could tell it gave you pleasure to hurt me, and I liked it.”

“What? Do you mean… I’m not…”

Sally looked up at him. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

He smiled. “Always—or, maybe, always during aftercare, okay?”

Sally nodded. “You’re a sadist, sir. And I love it.”

Mark’s brow furrowed. He exhaled a meditative puff of air through his nose, making his nostrils flare adorably. “You mean like a real de Sade sadist, right? Not, like, that I’m mean.”

“Yes. You’re not mean; you’re very, very, very kind. It’s just that it turns you on to whip me. And that’s okay with me, and much more than okay, because nothing has ever felt as good to me as you whipping me.”

Mark kissed her, they lay down on his bed, and he kissed her some more. Then he kissed her breasts and rubbed her pussy. Sally loved the way he just did that, just because he wanted to make her feel good—to
force
the pleasure upon her.

“I need to work on my thesis,” he said.

“Can I stay here, so that when you get stressed out, you have a pussy to fuck?”

“Sally! I think I need to spank you for that.”

Sally blushed. “Sorry, sir.” She tried to look abashed for a moment, but then her smile broke out again. “I could bend over the bed, right next to your desk, and you could spank me whenever you felt like it.”

Mark laughed, sounding carefree for the first time that night. “Dangerous,” he said. “Better not. I think I need to send you home.”

Sally pouted. “But Rachel’s out with John. She thinks she may be spending the night there.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Kind of makes us look less taboo, doesn’t it?”

Chapter Twenty

John sat in his armchair in the living room. Rachel stood before him, naked. Her hands were clasped at her midriff, where he had instructed her to put them. She wondered idly why he hadn’t just told her to put her hands behind her head, the way they did in the BDSM stories. She supposed it might be because John, although he clearly understood a very great deal about BDSM, wasn’t into doing things the same way other kinksters did them.

“Rachel,” he said, “you’re very lovely, whether in your clothes or out of them.”

Rachel breathed hard, and she felt her eyes widen. She had no idea how to respond. Did she feel lovely? Well, now that John had called her that, she supposed she did, because he had said so. She looked down at her hands, thankful suddenly that she couldn’t see past them—see the immodest little tuft of her pubic hair. Would John take it from her? She felt her face grow warm at the thought, and felt the warmth go elsewhere, further down.

Rachel’s breasts were big, with big brown nipples. Too big? Often she wished for little ones, like Sally’s—but John said she was lovely, so he must like her breasts. She wanted desperately to ask him whether he did, because if he liked big breasts with big nipples, she would like them too.

“Thank me, young lady.”

What? Where had she been? How much time had passed since John had said she looked lovely? His voice snapped her out of her reverie, her eyes leapt up to meet his, and both the blush and the arousal seemed to catch fire.

“Thank you, sir,” Rachel breathed, feeling how very inadequate the words were, but also grateful that John had told her what to do. That, in a nutshell, seemed to her the very best part: you did what your master told you, and you didn’t have to worry that you would do something wrong, because you
only
did what your master told you. If he told you to take off your clothes, you took off your clothes. If he told you to remove the hair between your legs, you removed it. If he told you to bend over his desk so he could put his cock in your ass, you bent over, and you thanked him for finding your ass worthy of his cock.

John spoke. “We will go back over the promises now, and you will confirm your acceptance of them. The first promise and the most important one is this: you will obey me to the best of your ability. That doesn’t mean that I don’t understand that there will be times when you
won’t
obey me, whether because you can’t, or because you don’t want to. It
does
mean, though, that you are giving me the right and obligation to punish you when you don’t obey me.”

Rachel could hardly believe how aroused the simply word ‘punish’ could make her, when it dropped from John Gammon’s lips.

“I promise,” she said.

John smiled. “Thank you, young lady.” That was when it struck Rachel full force that when John called her ‘young lady,’ it wasn’t just a playful thing. She really was a young lady, where he was concerned. Right on the heels of that realization came another: her entire erotic soul yearned to be a young lady to the man who would possess her, take his pleasure from her, and let her serve him. She would have given herself this way, she thought, to any man who had told her to obey him, who was willing to dominate her—how could she have gotten so lucky as to find a man like John, who understood that, but who also wanted to help her reach her potential?

“The next promise is that you will behave yourself according to the standards I set.”

Rachel felt a puzzled look come over her face. When he had told her this promise, while she had still had her clothes on, he hadn’t said the part about the standards.

“I will have more to say about those standards, as time goes on,” John continued, “but in general you will have to commit yourself to an older version of femininity than your peers practice. You will wear skirts to class, for example, and you will be in bed by 10 p.m. every night unless you are with me and I am keeping you up later.”

Rachel’s eyes went wide, and she felt her nostrils flare with her sharp breathing at the thought of how John would keep her up—how he would do that tonight, if she finalized her promises.

“You will not use foul language, unless I command you to say something naughty.”

She felt her mouth open slightly, but she wasn’t sure whether it was because she wanted to say something or because she suddenly felt she couldn’t get enough air through her nose to keep herself from fainting.

“Like what?” she whispered.

John smiled. “Like, ‘Sir, my cunt is very wet.’”

“Oh, God…”

“Is your cunt wet, Rachel Lowenstein?”

Less than a whisper: “Yes, sir.”

“Say it.”

“S-sir, my c-cunt is… v-very wet.”

“I’m glad to know that. Would you care to confirm the promise?”

Rachel didn’t hesitate for a moment. She didn’t feel like she could live another second without having promised to behave herself as John wished her to do. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” He looked up at her with the little smile. “The final promise is that you will hold yourself ready to please me with your body at all times.”

“I promise,” Rachel breathed instantly, desperate to fall on her knees and show how willingly she gave the assurance.

“Kneel, Rachel,” he said.
He knew,
Rachel thought.
How could he know?
But that was what John was—someone who knew those things.

Rachel sank to her knees. John stood. “You know where to look, don’t you?” he asked very softly. “You’ve read a lot of naughty books, haven’t you, you bad girl?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, feeling her heart try to thump its way out of her chest. She looked there, at where John’s hands were unbuckling his belt, then unbuttoning his jeans, then lowering them with his briefs inside, where John’s cock rose from a nest of black, curly hair. John’s hard cock: the first real cock Rachel had ever seen, after the many, many she had seen in the little videos she watched when she just couldn’t bear not to.

“Have you ever seen a man’s cock before?” John asked gently.

“Not a… not a real one, sir.”

“You’ve looked at naughty pictures, and naughty videos?”

Rachel nodded. John’s cock wasn’t as big as some of the ones in the videos, but it wasn’t small either, and it was so very real, rising hard in front of him, because he liked to look at Rachel naked, and to contemplate having her just as he pleased. His hands rested at his sides, but now, with the right one, he took the cock and began to pump it gently.

Rachel didn’t know why, exactly, but seeing a man do that to himself, in the videos and now, here, ten times more, made him seem terribly dominant—though the converse, watching a woman pleasure herself, always made her look submissive. John, by jerking off in front of her that way, told her that his cock belonged to him, and Rachel shouldn’t expect to be allowed to touch it unless John thought she would be able to please him more than he could please himself. If Rachel touched herself, though, she would say that she was a naughty girl who couldn’t stop herself from stealing her pussy from her master, to play with. John had acquired Rachel’s pussy, and he would decide what pleasure came to it. But Rachel had no claim over John’s cock, and never would.

John told her, too, that he found her naked body a sight worth jerking off to. Rachel had a flash of a fantasy in which John was a photographer, making her assume shameful poses, making her touch herself, making her show him things, while he took pictures with one hand and pumped his big cock with the other. Just at the fantasy, she heard a little whimper emerge from her mouth.

John sat back down in the armchair. His cock rose up in his hand, pointing at Rachel.

“You’ll have your first maintenance spanking in a little while, young lady, but I find your naked charms irresistible, and there is really no need for me to try to resist them. It’s time for you to start learning how to suck my cock. Take it nice and slowly. I’ll enjoy watching you please me almost as much as I’ll enjoy the feeling of your little virgin mouth on my cock. You must keep your eyes where they belong, of course. If you try to look me in the eye, you will get extra when I spank you.”

“Yes, sir.” How could that possibly be so hot? How could it make Rachel’s pussy flow to hear that John had no interest in eye contact with her, when she served his hardness with her mouth?

“You may begin. For now, don’t use your hands. I’ll teach you to use your hands later. Start by kissing, young lady.”

“Where, sir?”

“You may begin with the top.” John held his cock, his beautiful cock, gently in his hand, so that its head was proffered to Rachel’s gaze, as her face hovered above it and she hardly dared breathe. Slowly, slowly, she bent her head.

“That’s it,” John said gently. “Just a kiss. You’re just a sweet little beginner, but it’s time to kiss a grownup cock, isn’t it? Good little girls need to do grownup things, when the right man tells them to.”

Rachel gave a sob of humiliated arousal and kissed the head of John’s cock, feeling so ashamed to be here learning to serve this rich, older man and yet also loving—no, adoring—the knowledge that she could please him this way. The skin, with its strange firmness and softness at once, felt lovely against her lips, and the sticky fluid, which felt like the counterpart to the wetness that seemed to pool unceasingly now in Rachel’s pussy, made her feel like the naughty girl John had called her.