Old-Fashioned Values (18 page)

Hardly even thinking about it, Rachel opened her mouth and took John inside her body for the first time. She caught the scent of him as she inhaled through her nose, since her mouth was full of cock, and that was naughty, too.

“Are you a good little cocksucker now, Rachel?” John murmured. “That’s so nice. So nice to be in a naughty girl’s mouth. It’s been a very long time.”

How did he know just what to say to keep her pussy flowing? And how could the shameful things he said not seem wrong? If Cassandra could hear… but somehow the thought that Cassandra would disapprove of Rachel being on her knees sucking the cock of a forty-year-old man like a dirty girl, and hearing him demean her with misogynistic dirty talk, inflamed Rachel’s desire even more. She struggled to take her master’s beautiful cock deeper and deeper.

John gave a little satisfied whimper of his own—or maybe it was a sigh; it didn’t seem right to Rachel even to think that her master might do something as un-masterful as whimpering. Then he put his hand on her head, and Rachel apologized in her mind for having thought that her master had whimpered, because John was much too masterful for that. John was the kind of man who kept a girl at her task, with his hand pressing her head down very, very slightly, just to let her know that someday, when Rachel had gained the skill John would teach her, he would take her by her ponytail and control her head completely, moving her mouth up and down his cock just as he pleased.

Rachel’s whole world was between John’s powerful thighs now. She was not permitted to look anywhere else, because she would get spanked if she did so disrespectful a thing while she had John’s cock in her mouth. She looked at the curly hair around the base of his cock, and she smelled the magical scent of his arousal.

It went on for long minutes. Sometimes John let her take her mouth off the cock all the way, and she swallowed desperately before he pushed her face back down. With her jaw starting to ache, she tried to keep her teeth covered with her lips as the hard cock claimed her deeply again. When at last he lifted her mouth all the way off his hardness and said, “That’s enough for now,” she was very proud: she had only gagged once, and John had said, over and over, “So nice” and “good girl.”

“Time for your spanking, sweetheart,” John said. “Please get up, go into my bedroom, and lie on your back on the bed. Then I want you to raise your knees as high as you can, and hold yourself open for me. When I get in there, I want to see you ready for spanking, and for fucking.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Christmas came and went, with Mark and Sally apart, at their family’s homes in different towns in Connecticut, and Rachel home in Wisconsin. Before Sally left to go home, Mark did go through her underwear drawer and make a spreadsheet, and, as he requested, she texted him every morning when they were apart with a picture of herself in the panties he had chosen.

John, Mark heard from Sally, had given Rachel a reprieve where telling her parents was concerned: he had decided it made sense to let their relationship grow a little before he required her to take that step.

When they returned to school at the end of January, they picked up where they had left off, though a few days after they returned to school, Sally told Mark that Rachel was getting maintenance spankings from John once a week, and could she please have maintenance spankings, too? Mark obliged, and told her to take off all her clothes and bend over the bed the way she had the night he had first had her from behind, after whipping her. Then he gave her a very thorough hand-spanking and, afterward, he kept Sally bent over his bed and took her hard and fast, holding her tightly around her waist and pounding his hips against her bottom until he came with a grunt of satisfaction and a delicious quivering that ran through the taut muscles of his legs. That was the way it seemed they had both decided they liked best, though Sally still seemed reluctant to disclose that she found the bestial side of Mark—the side that fucked hard and brooked no refusal—so very arousing.

At dinner with Sally and Rachel on a Sunday at the end of January, Rachel told them that John had asked her to invite them to his house on Martha’s Vineyard for the President’s Day weekend. Mark could see that Sally was just as thrilled by the invitation as he was.

“So what did you and John do last night?” Sally asked. They were eating in the girls’ dorm’s dining hall, at a little table in a corner.

Rachel blushed. “Oh, the usual.”

Sally giggled. “Maintenance?” she asked. “Me, too.”

“Well,” Rachel said. “Actually, I got punished.”

“What?” Sally asked. “Why?”

Rachel’s blush deepened and she looked hesitantly at Mark.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Sally said. “Do you really think I wouldn’t tell him anyway?”

“If you know what’s good for your bottom, you would,” Mark said lightly, and Sally giggled again. He hadn’t been sure about maintenance night—this one had been their second, and like the first time he had surprised himself rather greatly with how seriously he couldn’t seem to help taking it. At first it had seemed to him like it might be a lot more playful than it actually had turned out to be, but the idea that he had to make sure Sally understood that he held authority over her seemed to bring out his dominance even more than punishing her for saying a bad word, or getting a bad grade, might. He had actually gagged Sally with her panties so that she wouldn’t be heard through the walls, and then really spanked her hard.

Sally had said afterward that she felt like she needed it. “It helps me feel like myself,” she had said simply, when they were lying in each other’s arms after the doggy-style sex that had followed the spanking. He had found the corresponding need in himself, and marveled at it, silently thanking Rachel for bringing maintenance discipline into his and Sally’s relationship.

“Well, you remember that the first night—the one after Thanksgiving and before Christmas break—I had to promise to be ready to pleasure him?”

Mark had heard this story from Sally, who had wormed it out of Rachel over the phone during Christmas break: Mark had ‘made’ Sally tell him the whole thing, by means of several threats of spanking, one of which he had had to carry out when Sally had at first refused to tell him what Rachel had narrated about the way John had taken her virginity.

“He gave her her maintenance spanking in the diaper position—you know, the way you spanked me at the inn, before you, you know? Holding her knees up and spanking with his hand?” Mark had nodded. “Then he bent her knees all the way back to her ears, she says, and, you know—really hard.”

“For her first time?” Mark had asked in amazement. He would not have expected that from John, he supposed.

“And she loved it. I don’t know what I would have done if you had done that to me. I might have safeworded. It sounds so… scary, and intense.”

Mark had imagined the scene. He thought he could figure it out, actually; John was so experienced, radiated so much wisdom. He could see how a girl like Rachel would welcome simply being taught, that way, about what a dominant man liked to do when he possessed a submissive girl. He grew uncomfortably hard at the thought, remembering the story there at the table while Rachel explained how she came to get punished.

“I was wearing panties,” Rachel said. She gave a crooked smile as Sally giggled.

“Did he spank you hard?”

“He
always
spanks me hard. He used my hairbrush.”

“What? Why was your hairbrush at his house?”

“He makes me keep it in my purse, in case he has to spank me with it.” Rachel seemed to be trying to sound glum, but she was still smiling.

“Oh, God,” Sally said. “That’s so hot. Mark?”

Mark laughed. “Yes?”

“You know.”

He laughed again. “Yes. From now on, I want you to keep your hairbrush in your purse.”

* * *

On the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, John told him about the idea he’d had for that night. Mark couldn’t believe the effect that Rachel had had on John. He remembered what the older man had been like when Carol Baxter had been around, and it was kind of like that, but there was something even more buoyant and joyous in John’s air now, as if Rachel were making him young again. Also making him mischievous, apparently, or even wicked. “You haven’t had Sally’s ass yet, I imagine?” John said as they gazed over the rail at the receding shoreline of Cape Cod. The girls were inside having hot cocoa.

“John! Seriously?”

“Fine if you don’t want to answer the question, but I have a feeling you’ll like my idea.”

Mark turned to look at him. John was grinning back. “Dude,” Mark said—which was something he called his male peers, but was pretty sure he had never called John before. “I guess I thought that you were, I don’t know, more of a gentleman.”

John laughed. “Well, yes. But now that we both have lovely submissive girls to fuck, it’s time for us to be old-school gentleman together. We would never say such things in front of a woman—at least if others were liable to overhear. But between men, such things have always been savored.”

Mark felt himself frowning as he thought about this.
Savored
. He certainly couldn’t deny that there was something incredibly exciting about talking with John about Sally.

“Alright, no. No, I haven’t… had her… there.”

“And I haven’t had Rachel’s backside either. So I propose that we do that tonight. I’ve brought two bottles of lube.”

Mark shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” John said. “I think we should announce it to them over dinner. Don’t tell me you’re not hard.”

“Jesus, John.” Mark laughed, because he couldn’t help it. “Won’t the girls get mad?”

“They might,” John said, not as if he were admitting a problem with his plan, but as if he were explaining his vision. “We might have to spank them.”

“Jesus,” Mark said again, and looked back toward Falmouth. “Um, yes.” He turned back to John. “So it’s, like… a scene?” Mark still wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the idea that Sally’s submission was a kind of game, because it also seemed to exist on a much deeper level, where he really did have to punish her, to teach her lessons she needed to reach the heights to which her ambition seemed to be raising her.

“The thing I think you have trouble with, Mark,” John said seriously, “if only a little, is grasping what Sally’s submission really means to her. I’ve seen how she sometimes has to ask you to dominate her. That’s fine, but I can see that it means that you’re not really trusting your dominant instincts.”

The spray from the ferry’s wake, windblown, seemed to make John’s craggy face look like that of a wise old ship captain’s. The wind was bitterly cold, but the heat of Mark’s emotions seemed to make it easy to ignore the numbness of his fingers even in his woolen gloves.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I mean, I guess I don’t really understand what my responsibility is, when it comes to disciplining her, if she really likes being spanked as much as she seems to.”

John nodded. “That’s where loving discipline gets really, really interesting, as far as I’m concerned, and really rewarding for both parties. Tonight, when we tell the girls that right after dinner we’re going to take them to our bedrooms to deflower them in their most private places, I promise you that they’re going to be more embarrassed than they ever have been before in their lives, but also more turned on. Most important, I promise they won’t safeword.”

Mark said, “Okay, but why?”

“Because knowing that we’re taking charge of them, like that, is the ultimate turn-on for them. And part of the reason that it gets them so hot is that they know if they act up, they’ll get spanked. Boundaries—that’s what discipline is all about, in any form. A submissive girl needs her master to put boundaries around her—that’s why it’s called ‘taking in hand.’ When you took Sally in hand, you took her into your palm—sometimes that palm needs to be warm and comforting, and sometimes it needs to be firm and severe. Either way, it’s always yours. So the only question is whether
you
want to come in Sally’s bottom tonight. I know I want to come in Rachel’s.”

Mark felt his brow furrowing as he pondered John’s words.

“Mark, can you honestly say that the thought of your cock in Sally’s ass doesn’t arouse you more than pretty much anything else?”

“No,” Mark confessed.

“Then follow my lead.”

* * *

“Girls,” John said, after he had served the apple cobbler Sally and Rachel had made in the sumptuous kitchen of the house in Chilmark, “listen closely, please.” A fire roared on the big hearth. The house, Mark thought, was something that could have descended from heaven on the backs of cherubim. John had already said that of course they would have to spend a week or two here during the summer, so that they could enjoy the pool and the beach. As it was, it wasn’t even safe to walk on the beach because of the unpredictability of the winter sea, but they could stand above it and look out far, far to the east, and, just as wonderful, listen to the booming of the waves.

Mark watched Sally and Rachel turn attentively toward John. Could the older man really be about to say what he had told Mark he would say?

“Tonight, right after you finish with the dishes, we are going to take you to bed and have your bottoms with our cocks.”

Sally’s eyes, wide as saucers, flew to Mark’s face, as if to ask if Mark knew about John’s strange, shameful plan. Her face was crimson. To Mark’s astonishment, though his own face felt a little flushed, he found himself nodding, as gravely as he could muster. John had been completely right: Mark didn’t think he had ever been so aroused in his life and it was all he could do to keep from shifting in his seat to ease the ache of his erection.

Rachel, blushing herself, looked down at her dessert. “Yes, sir,” she said, to Mark’s astonishment.

“Will you like having my cock there, young lady?” John asked.