FalltoPieces (3 page)

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 formfitting 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.

“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.

Seemingly from out of thin air Vivien produced a pink plug
the size of her thumb. “As part of your punishment you’ll be required to wear
this.” She pushed it deep into Polly’s pussy, fucking her with it, making her
aware of the fullness of being taken in both holes at once.

Polly’s eyes blinked closed as she hovered near orgasm, but
just as sensation crept closer the plug slipped out. Her eyes snapped open and
fixed on the torturous little device shimmering with her cream.

Vivien pumped the finger secreted in her ass a few times
before slowly removing it. Polly held her breath as the tip of the plug nudged
her and eased past the rim.

“Relax,” Vivien said, her free hand gliding reassuringly
over Polly’s thigh. As soon as Polly loosened up, the plug slid inside.

She felt full.
Claimed
. If Vivien so much as exhaled
over her clit, she’d come. Even from here she could see the pink rubber ring
protruding from her bottom.

Vivien curled a finger into it and gave it a tug that caused
Polly to clench.

“Good girl,” Vivien murmured. She leaned over and gaze
locked with Polly’s, she pressed a whisper of a kiss to her clit.

Polly’s fingers tightened as she fought the urge to rock her
hips upward.

Offering no more, Vivien straightened and stepped back as if
to admire her handiwork. “Do you enjoy wearing a butt plug for Ma’am?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Polly loved it. She loved the way she felt
spread and unmasked. Naked. Her most private recess discernibly invaded.

“Climb down and come over here to the spanking table. It’s
time I reminded you how to address me.”

Doubt welled and Polly nearly blurted the safeword she’d put
on the form she submitted. Spanking? She’d agreed to it. Actually she’d agreed
to soft spanking but one person’s definition of soft might be different from
another’s.

Vivien started toward a bench that looked more like a
medieval torture device than something as benign as a spanking table. A center
pad sat higher than the four lower ones around it that Polly intuitively knew
were for her arms and legs. Restraints dangled for the lower pads.

Indecision gnawed at her. How could she climb up there
knowing Vivien was going to punish her? Her brain warred with her eager body.
Already she imagined the sting, the innate shame of being displayed for a
spanking with her butt plug jutting out to remind her that she was Vivien’s
willing slave.

“Hesitation will earn you harsher punishment, my dear,”
Vivien barked. She selected a thin black leather paddle from her sinister
collection and slapped it against her open palm.

The sharp sound spurred Polly into action. Blood simmering,
she eased off the examination table. Every movement caused the torturous plug
to shift in her bottom. Wetness from her pussy seeped down her inner thighs.

She wanted to stop, to writhe on the padded floor until she
came. God, she needed to come. Fear of the unknown ratcheted her desire higher
and higher.

A wicked thought occurred to her. If she bore the punishment
well Vivien might let her eat her pussy. Still, as she crawled, naked and
plugged, toward the spanking table embarrassment burned in her cheeks.
Embarrassment that she shouldn’t want this as much as she did.

She glanced at Vivien as she climbed onto the table and
positioned her arms and legs on the red leather rests. The pad under her was
cool against her belly and breasts. The armrests were slightly lower than those
for the legs and had the effect of lifting her bottom high as well as making
her cunt vulnerable to the paddle.

“Mmm,” Vivien cooed. “I can smell your desire.” She tugged
gently on the plug’s ring—as if Polly could forget it was there. “Have you ever
been spanked before?”

“Not like this, Ma’am.” Polly’s voice was rough.

Vivien let out a mirthless laugh. “Before we’re through with
your training I will spank you all kinds of ways. Over my knee. On this table.
On the St. Andrew’s Cross. I’ll spank your ass, your tits and your pretty
little pussy.” She flicked her fingertips lightly against Polly’s clit, making
her moan.

Deep craving for more contact made her shake. The scenarios
Vivien had described loomed in her head. “Yes Ma’am,” she heard herself say.

The smooth leather paddle glided up and down the back of one
thigh. It teased across her ass, lapped softly at her pussy and then tapped the
inside of one leg.

Polly gritted her teeth. Her fists knotted. This might be
easier to accept if she were restrained. But Vivien, it seemed, knew the power
behind the humiliation of willingly submitting to such a punishment.

“Why are you being punished?” Vivien’s voice slid over her
like a smooth shot of bourbon.

“Because I didn’t call you Ma’am when I should have.” Polly
couldn’t believe she was doing this, saying these things.

“You were disrespectful, weren’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.” All the while that paddle whispered over her
flesh, reminding her of her mistress’s wicked promise.

“Tell me what you need.”

What?
The bitch was going to make her ask for it?
Polly squeezed her eyes shut. Why couldn’t she stop shaking? She bit her bottom
lip, unable to force herself to say the words.

A single, soft smack landed on her ass. She jerked,
horrified that she was here and desperate for more at the same time.

“Speak up! Tell me what you need.”

“T-to be…to be p-punished.”

A harder lick got her attention. Heat pooled on one side of
her ass.

“You’re continuing to be disrespectful. I think you’re
enjoying this.”

“I need to be punished—Ma’am.”

“Yes, you do,” Vivien said. “You’ve been a naughty girl,
haven’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.” This went against absolutely everything Polly
thought she stood for.

“You’ll think twice about disrespecting me again.” Vivien placed
a firm hand on the small of Polly’s back.

Polly held her breath, anticipating her spanking. Wanting
it. Truly needing it. Time seemed to stand still as she felt the tension
radiate from Vivien’s hand into her back. The paddle drew back and several
sting-packed swats landed in rapid succession across one cheek and then the
other.

Polly had expected one little smack at a time. But no. This
was like a real spanking. The kind an angry parent inflicted on a hapless kid.
It was savage and white-hot. Fuck soft. Her breath left her lungs in a ragged
rush. Sweet fire blazed in her ass and the backs of her thighs. The paddle
didn’t avoid the protruding ring of the plug or her cunt. Nothing was sacred.
She couldn’t take any more.

And yet she pursed her lips to keep from uttering her safeword.
Punish me! Spank me! Oh God, yes…

Oh…

Her pussy clenched. Her ass tightened around the plug. Oh
fuck, she was coming! She mewled as wave after wave of the unexpected orgasm
thundered through her. The table prevented her from squeezing her legs together
but she pressed down, attempted to rub her clit against the pad.

Release transported her deeper into her own body until her
mind went blank to everything but physical sensation.

And as the last gratifying spasm subsided, so did the
spanking.

Floating, Polly lay still to bask in the conflicting
pleasure and pain. The orgasm had felt like some sort of catharsis. Sherri’s
description of feeling freed made perfect sense now.

Awareness filtered back slowly and Polly realized Vivien was
no longer close by. She lifted her head.

“Come here,” Vivien beckoned from the shadows.

Polly’s legs felt like jelly as she climbed down off the
table. There was more? She didn’t know if she could stand more after that.

Vivien sat across the room on a black leather sofa, legs
crossed, a slit in her skirt falling away to bare the lacy top of a stocking
and a tempting slice of ivory thigh. One arm stretched casually across the low
back of the sofa.

“Kneel,” she said as Polly got close.

Body humming, Polly kneeled as she’d been taught, knees
apart, hands behind her back. The soft ring of the plug nudged between her
heels.