The Art of Submissive Survival - Book Two in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (6 page)

Jess’s back arched and her fingers and toes clenched against themselves, as her body went into instant unstoppable overload.

The speculum was hastily removed, and Jess yelled out against its loss as the metal clattered to the floor. Instantly Miss Sarah began to twist and tweak at the nipple clamps, sending fresh waves of agony through Jess’s captured breasts.

Stunting Jess’s shrieks, Miss Sarah brought her lips to hers, kissing her with an angry fervour that Jess was happy to reciprocate.

Whispering through her kisses, Miss Sarah said, ‘You may move your arms, but not your legs.’

Ignoring the crack they made as she moved them far too fast after such a period of inactivity, Jess brought her hands to Miss Sarah’s chest and pinched it hard through the nurse’s uniform, wishing that the sticky fabric wasn’t there so she could see her superior’s magnificent chest properly.

Dropping her mouth to Jess’s tits, Miss Sarah began to flick her tongue over and around the clamps, filling Jess with the strangest mix of pleasure and suffering that she’d ever experienced.

It was too much. Her pussy, empty and neglected, began to pulse and clench as if it were full, and her nipples sent tremors of lust through every inch of her body as, without waiting for the permission she was sure she needed, Jess’s tormented frame jacked against her boss, coming in a violent shout of relief.

Sweat poured from Jess as she finally lay still against the bed. She couldn’t believe she’d just done that, and she wasn’t ready to admit she’d sort of enjoyed it, or how badly she had wanted to strip the uniform from her superior’s body.

‘Look at me, Miss Sanders.’ Miss Sarah spoke more softly now.

Jess looked; a shameful expression on her face.

‘Don’t look like that. You succeeded, you survived.’

‘But I came without permission, and I ...’ Jess’s voice dropped so it was barely audible. ‘... I didn’t think my body could do things like that.’

Miss Sarah flashed an unexpectedly kind smile, but rather than comment she changed the subject. ‘So, do you understand why Madam likes that? Why such total lack of control and the denial of what she wants most turns her on?’

Jess thought carefully before she replied, ‘because she is usually always in control of her life?’

‘Good,’ Miss Sarah inclined her head. ‘If you understand why the clients come here, then you’ll be better at this than if you don’t.’

A sharply pointed fingernail trailed slowly across Jess’s cheek, ‘I’m beginning to think Mrs Peters might be right about you.’

Jess was unable to keep the pleading tone from her voice, ‘But
what
about me,
what is it
?’

‘You already know the answer to that, Miss Sanders. Now, I have to change and get ready for my next visitor, and you have work to do in the office.’ A flash of regret shone in her eyes, ‘Shame really, ’cause I think I’d like to have taken things further.’

‘Further?’ Jess winced as she rose from her place on the bed, trying hard to comprehend that Miss Sarah was now being nice to her, all jealousy apparently gone.
Had that been an act? Another means of testing her?

Miss Sarah ignored the questioning inflection in Jess’s voice, simply repeating, ‘Go and shower, Miss Sanders, before you return to your office. The rest will do you good. I have organised another exercise session for you tonight, and then again tomorrow morning. I’ll see you then.’

Chapter Six

‘You’ve visited the school room, the study and the medical bay.’

Jess sat at her computer terminal and nodded meekly at Mrs Peters. Her body was stiff and warm from the mile Miss Sarah had forced her to cycle on the exercise bike, with the love balls once again tucked firmly inside her channel. Every time Jess had been close to climax, Miss Sarah had slapped her chest and she’d felt uncomfortably unfulfilled, a situation not improved by the capricious way her boss was now staring at her.

‘Miss Sarah tells me you successfully helped her to entertain a client yesterday; a guest who has not always taken kindly to a change from her usual routine. I also hear that you are adjusting to your new exercise schedule.’ Mrs Peters spoke with such lack of expression that Jess wasn’t sure if she was being complimented, chastised, or if the manageress was merely making an observation. ‘I have a very important visitor due here tonight, Miss Sanders, and I intend for him to meet you.’

The butterflies that seemed to live in Jess’s stomach these days began to flutter as she listened.

‘The outcome of this evening will determine many things about the future direction of life on the fifth floor, including your own. Much has been made of your natural submission and I think the reality of that has begun to sink in with you. The question is, are you good enough to stay on my staff? Do you have what it takes? I did wonder if I’d have to ask if you wanted to stay, but from the evidence of Miss Sarah, from Lee, and from the recordings I have made of you, I am convinced that you have already crossed the point of no return. So the real question is will I let you stay?

An unexpected panic gripped Jess. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might not be allowed to stay. She was further disconcerted by the knowledge of what that panic meant. And, on top of that, she wondered just how many recordings had been made of her since she arrived. All the secret but necessary sessions she’d had in the Ladies, the conversation with Lee in the staff room, her encounter with Madam, her sessions in the gym ... Jess shook her head, trying not to remember how good all that had felt.

‘I can see you’re thinking carefully about what I’ve said.’ Mrs Peters’ features remained immobile, but Jess couldn’t help feel as if she was being mocked in some way. ‘Before you meet my special guest, I need to reassure myself that you’re capable of coping with a wider range of challenges.’

Saying nothing, Jess kept her eyes trained on the keyboard, over which her fingers remained frozen in mid-sentence.

‘I have arranged for you to meet one of my regulars. You will accompany me now.’

‘But I’m needed here ...’ Jess gestured to the pile of work that awaited her fractured concentration.

‘It can wait.’ Mrs Peters pulled back her shoulders and stepped away from the desk so Jess could stand up. ‘We really must do something about your wardrobe, child.’

Jess looked at the suit she’d bought for her new job at the hotel. Smart black skirt and jacket, with a crisp fitting white blouse beneath. She couldn’t see what was wrong with it.

‘Oh your appearance is fine for the office, Miss Sanders,’ Mrs Peters continued, once again giving Jess the impression she could read her mind, ‘but as a member of my more exclusive staff, you should dress more appropriately.’

Images of stockings, Basques, tight fitting dresses and PVC nurse’s outfits swam in Jess’s head.

‘You need to give in, you know. Every now and then I think you have, but then you start the struggle with your conscience all over again.’ Mrs Peters lifted Jess’s chin with two of her slender fingers and peered into her eyes, ‘The more you fight what that lively little body of yours truly desires, the harder you will find your life here.’

‘I...’ Much to her relief, Jess’s sentence was cut short by the arrival of the lift, as she hadn’t really known what she’d been going to say.

The atmosphere of the stuffy lift became increasingly uncomfortable as the two women ascended to the fifth floor. Only once the silver doors had opened, and Mrs Peters had stepped into the narrow hallway that ran between the five main doors of the hotel’s top level, did she began to explain her intentions.

‘My client has rearranged his business appointments today specifically because I have asked for his assistance in your instruction.’

A lump developed in Jess’s throat as she listened.

‘He calls himself David Proctor, his real name is of no consequence. He is less formal than many of the guests we have here, and prefers to be referred to by his Christian name.’

‘May I ask what room he uses, Mrs Peters?’ This was the first time Jess had ever asked her employer a direct question, and she wasn’t at all sure how her request for information would be received.

‘You may ask.’ Mrs Peters considered her pupil for a moment. ‘You were wise to ask for permission for that information. Again you prove to me how quickly you can catch on to the rules here.’ Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the clerk. ‘I’d like you to remove your blouse and underwear, and then I’ll tell you what you need to know.’

Jess slid her jacket from her shoulders, and holding it clumsily between her knees, unbuttoned her white top, painfully aware of how blatantly her nipples were protruding as she removed her bra, and how damp her knickers were as she slid them to the floor.

‘Now, slip your jacket back on and do it up. I’ll take your clothes.’

Mrs Peters held the garments as though they were offensive articles, before pointing to the furthest door on the right side of the corridor. There were only two rooms Jess hadn’t visited so far, and she was fairly confident it wouldn’t be the secret room she’d heard about on her arrival at Fables. So it had to be the dungeon. A gut wrenching churning began in her stomach.

‘The fact you’ve gone rather pale, tells me you’ve worked out which room this is. An excellent place to teach you the finer points of satisfying our visitors. Master Philips is particularly fond of it in there.’ Mrs Peters took Jess’s hand. Her skin was cold, and yet still managed to send a bolt of heat through Jess’s nervous system.

Tugged and guided into the room with only the token resistance of uncertainty, Jess allowed herself a few moments to take in the contents of Room 50. The subdued light provided by wall candles, cast strange shadows after the bright glare of the lift and corridor.

More than usually aware of her breathing, Jess felt it scrape in her throat as she took in the focal point of the room. The rack, which she could easily imagine Lee enjoying as Mrs Peters had indicated, loomed menacing and silent. The walls were hung with sinister-looking meat hooks holding every torture and correction implement possible.

In contrast to all the other rooms in the hotel, the dungeon was neither air-conditioned nor spotless. Dust had been allowed to accumulate on the floor; there was no evidence of any form of heating. The overall impression of medieval dankness that the architect of the room had tried to secure could certainly be declared a success.

‘Some of our guests require us to dress the part in this room. Medieval tunics, wench outfits, slaves tatters, and so on. Others couldn’t care less what we wear as long as it comes off quickly and they get the kicks they’ve paid for.’

Her eyes wide, Jess continued to survey the room as Mrs Peters spoke.

‘David likes business suits and no underwear, but with one medieval addition.’ Mrs Peters went over to a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, returning with a slim belt that had a wide flap of leather attached halfway along its length. Without having to be told, Jess knew exactly what she was looking at and her mind immediately recoiled at the idea of the chastity belt.

‘Hurry up, girl, let’s get it on you, he’ll be here in a minute. Lift your skirt, I need to put this around your waist, and believe me, you’d be very uncomfortable if I hurried and placed it incorrectly.’

Deftly, Mrs Peters fastened the belt around Jess’s waist, commenting as she did so on how much more toned her stomach muscles were, although she also added that there was still room for improvement. Pushing a hand between her clerk’s legs, she grabbed the oval of leather, which had been lined with sheepskin, and pulled it firmly over Jess’s pussy, attaching it securely to the front of the belt with a silver clamp.

Unable to contain a frustrated moan as her snatch was teased and incarcerated by the furry strap, Jess squirmed against its tickling surface.

‘Miss Sanders, I wish you to listen very carefully to what I have to say.’ Mrs Peters’ voice was like steel as she twisted the clerk around to face her. ‘David will be here in a moment. You will do what he says, when he says, without question, but you have to start things. This is your session, but I will be watching, assessing your handling of the situation.’

‘My session?’

‘Yours.’

‘But, ‘Jess stammered as she struggled to comprehend what was being demanded of her, ‘I’m a submissive, or so you keep saying. I don’t do controlling.’

‘And yet you will do this,’ The manageress’s fingers danced lightly over Jess’s naked cleavage, sending a cruel extra gush of longing down her spine, ‘I think you will understand once you and David get into your stride.’

‘I ...’ Jess’s pointless protests were interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

‘Let him in, Miss Sanders.’

There was no time to argue. It was as if her body was operating outside of her brain, as if she was watching herself invite the client into the room on autopilot, propelled by an internal desire-fuelled curiosity to find out what was going to happen next.

A mute greeting between Mrs Peters and Mr Proctor increased the uneasy yet expectant mood in the room, as Jess found herself hovering before the man, not really sure what to do next. He was regarding her with expressionless round green eyes, set in a circular face. Neither fat nor thin, the customer would have summed up the terms “average build and average height” perfectly. His slightly greying foppish hair hung over one side of his face, and a hand kept lifting it up to knock it away. About 45 years old Jess guessed, with an expensive designer suit that indicated he was on his lunch hour from some high powered employment.

After Jess had failed to move for several moments, Mrs Peters gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Honestly, girl, have you paid no attention to Miss Sarah when she starts a session?’ She turned to David, her accent gentle and kind, at total odds with the way she had addressed Jess. ‘My apologies. As I explained on the phone, she is very new.’

The client, his face revealing nothing, nodded.

‘David likes his experiences in the dungeon to start with the mistress in charge ordering him to strip off, and, as this is a dungeon, punished. I would have thought that would be obvious.’

Feeling a failure before she’d even started, and smarting from the unfairness of the situation, Jess’s face coloured violently in embarrassment. She’d never told anyone to do anything in her life, and she wasn’t sure she could now.

Summoning all her courage, and doing her best to picture how Miss Sarah acted in her mistress role, Jess said, ‘Strip.’ Despite her attempt to sound masterful, her voice came out rather squeakily. The client however, remained solemn, and obeyed, his suit hitting the dirty floor with considerable speed.

An unexpected jolt of power ran through Jess as she observed the man humble before her. His cock was proud and firm, asking for attention all on its own, while his un-tanned skin showed evidence of previous beatings at the tops of his legs, back and arse. Doing her best to adopt an expression of haughty disdain, Jess circled David slowly, just as Mrs Peters had done to her in the past.

Increasingly conscious of the belt beneath her skirt Jess wondered how long she could leave it before taking off her own clothes, and allow David see that she wore the belt for him beneath. Not yet, she judged, and turning from him collected a paddle from a nearby hook. With her heart pounding, Jess ordered the guest onto his hands and knees.

The speed at which he capitulated gave Jess a further buzz, which in turn made her chest swell and her pussy clench.

Standing behind him, she found herself shaking as she swung her arm back to administer the first blow. Halfway through uncertainty swamped her.
What if I hit him too hard? What if I damage him?
Consequently, when the paddle connected with David’s skin, it barely even touched him.

‘You’re not swatting flies, girl.’ Mrs Peters’ disapproval cut through Jess like a knife. ‘Again, and mean it!’

Stung, and yet strangely boosted, by her boss’s words, Jess stared hard at the waiting butt before her and aimed again. This time the smack echoed through the room, making David cry out and rock forwards on his hands. ‘Keep still!’ Jess roared the words, taking everyone, including herself, by surprise, a frisson of satisfaction ripping through her at the expression in Mrs Peters’ eyes as she did so. A look that, just for a second, flashed with a private concern that swamped any satisfaction at the clerk’s obedience.

Two strikes later and David’s cries had altered to controlled whimpers of pain, which Jess realised to her horror, she’d actively enjoyed inflicting. Lowering her hand, she dropped the paddle to the floor, and ran her fingers over the deep pink welts she’d created on his arse. Jess felt his flesh react to her touch, his heavy breathing the predominant sound in the room, as she swapped her fingers for her tongue, running its moist warmth around the circumference of the fast bruising lines.

All the time Jess was becoming more aware of the belt stroking her, of the sheepskin, no longer soft and fluffy, but matted and sodden with her juices. Her hands itched to tear off her suit, to stop the polyester of her jacket buffing her bullet nipples, to yank away her skirt, and to replace the strap with the cock that wavered in the air before her.

Continuing to lick the client’s arse, Jess slipped a hand between his legs. David’s long drawn out groan broke the spell that had weaved itself around the room, and Mrs Peters words dripped acid as she called out, ‘I admire your technique, child, but this is a
dungeon
. Punishment must ALWAYS come before reward here; don’t you agree, David?’