Authors: Tabitha Rayne
“I didn’t get one,” said Katja, her voice muffled into the suede.
Deborah gave her a swift, hard slap on the behind. “I beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t get one, ma’am,” Katja yelped.
“That’s better.” She began to slip into her dominant role more comfortably and slapped Katja again. “I think you may be under the impression that you are something special in this place. Do you think you deserve special treatment?”
Deborah could see that the woman was unsure of how to answer. She twisted on her bindings as if considering her answer, but Deborah stopped her with another slap. It was satisfying to watch the ample buttocks quiver and still beneath the stretched fabric, and she felt her excitement increase as Katja shuffled her heels apart a little. She swept her gaze across the room to the big, gilt-framed mirror and gasped at the tableau reflected back. A damsel strapped to a gym horse and a tiny, wasp-like figure, naked save for an incredibly tight corset cinching her in, standing over her like a demon ready to pounce. Deborah blushed at the sight. She’d been so comfortable with her outfit, she’d forgotten she was quite underdressed.
The power her reflection radiated was intoxicating, and she let herself languish for a moment in her self-admiration. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her breasts were high and full above the cupless corset with nipples as hard as bullets. Her body seemed to be doing whatever it pleased and she spread her stance wide and tipped her pelvis up to take in the thick, dark mass of curls that covered her pubic area. Now feeling very horny, she ventured a hand down to her sex to find it dripping and aching with want.
Turning back to her captive, she picked up the paddle and lifted it high as Katja braced herself tight against the bench. She swung, and
thwack!
Her own breasts quivered with the force and Katja roared from deep in her chest. The sound made Deborah absolutely feral and she smacked her again, harder. Katja twisted and writhed like a fish on a line, and she went directly behind her, taking the hem of her skirt and tearing at the vent until her red rump was exposed. The scent of hot female arousal drifted up, and Deborah slid two fingers down into the crease of Katja’s ass and pulled her already soaked panties aside. The folds of her pussy were clutching and dripping, and Deborah pushed her fingers inside, encouraged by Katja’s attempt at moving her hips onto them.
Twisting and corkscrewing her digits in and out, Deborah found herself drifting and swaying into that higher place. She picked up the paddle in her free hand and smacked lightly at Katja’s buttocks while she finger-fucked her. The woman responded by groaning, and her pussy clenched rhythmically in time. Deborah fluttered in and out of awareness, feeling tantalizingly close to something she couldn’t describe. She felt transcendent and it was all down to this woman lying there under her control. The groaning, whimpering, and spasming coming from the woman was making Deborah desperate for relief of her own. She kept her fingers buried deep inside the deliciously responsive cunt and brought the paddle down to her own pussy, spreading her legs to allow enough space for it to fit between her thighs. Carefully at first, she wafted the air around her pout, ruffling the moist pelt until she got brave and horny enough to venture a small slap of her mound, its lips swollen thick and heady with desire. It was more a blast of air than actual contact and she tried again, harder. The cold air hit first, then the sting of solid wood punched through it, bringing a heat that was too much but oh, not enough. She tried a few in quick succession, drawing up from the fleshy lips to the peaking nub of her clit which was at once straining for attention and terrified of it.
Her other hand still occupied with Katja, Deborah used the purchase in the other woman’s pussy to bend her knees and crouch a little to offer more space to the punishing paddle. The flickering balls of tiny fire on the top of the candles all around drifted in and out of focus, becoming large suns, then tiny pinpricks threatening to disappear altogether. Deborah fucked and humped and felt the pull of her own climax take over as she rushed on a wave of spirit right to the meeting point and into the arms of her lover.
“Marcus!” She was so stunned to feel him, smell him, see him. She thought he was in the room with her. “Are you here?”
He looked at her in confusion and disbelief for a split second, then grabbed her face in his palms and kissed her deep and hard, imparting all his longing and aching into her soul and she did the same. Just as soon as it began, he started to fade. Deborah thrashed about, trying to hold on, keep him there, but it was no good. He drifted into the darkness, and Deborah watched the light of his being become the flickering glow of a candle in her punishment chamber.
When she came to she was slumped with one hand between her legs, still holding the paddle, which was now sopping with her juices, and the other being squeezed by Katja’s hot, satisfied little cunt.
Deborah couldn’t decide whether she was euphoric or broken-hearted but it seemed whichever it was, this woman who was bathing in a post-orgasmic glow of her own had brought her and Marcus together. If only for a moment.
Extracting her fingers, she replaced the panties and pulled what tattered fabric was left of the skirt back over her buttocks to offer the woman a little dignity. She crawled to the front of the bench to untie the bindings, then stood to unwrap the woman’s wrists, rubbing them as she went to get the blood flowing back in.
“Don’t worry, the markings will soon be gone,” she said softly as she massaged the ridges, trying to smooth them out.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” said Katja meekly. “I like it.”
Their eyes met, and Deborah saw a look which seemed to mix determination, satisfaction, and sorrow with a deep sensuality that told her this had been something they had both needed. She fought the urge to smile and make chit-chat. After all, they would be doing this again very soon and she was now certainly looking forward to it.
Chapter 24
“Where’s Katja?”
The unfamiliar chaperone just shrugged and kept marching steadily in front of Marcus on the way to the servicing chamber. They went past the usual door right down to the end of the corridor. The chaperone waited for the lock to be released then ushered Marcus through. The room was different to his regular one, which only had a chaise longue and changing corner. This one had a large four-poster bed and proper wash area for him and what looked like a very comfy chair to recuperate in.
“We’ve got new clients for you to entertain,” said Katja’s replacement with no emotion. “Don’t anger them.” Then she left.
Marcus felt tense and lost. He tested the bed. Quite hard. He lay down and waited for his client to appear. He must have drifted off for a second but was woken by hot breath just at his ear and a low, menacing whisper.
“What do you think you are doing?” Something told Marcus he wasn’t to answer and he guessed right when she continued, “Don’t you say a fucking word.”
The woman stood back from him and he looked her up and down, taking in her severe silhouette. She was angular in a feminine way, but with a cold aura that made Marcus almost tremble. This was it. By some weird twist of fate, he’d been offered a chance to test out his submission theory. By the determined, steely way she was looking at him, Marcus had a very good idea what might be about to take place and he summoned all his humble timidity to get what he needed from her.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve actually had a man who needs to be taught his place. Most are so grateful to still be alive that they don’t break the rules any more. Well, I say bring in the bad boys. I’m here to teach you a lesson.”
Marcus parted his lips to speak but thought better of it as she placed a gloved finger over his mouth and flashed him a look which left no doubt as to its meaning.
“Roll over, bad boy,” she said in that hard tone, but Marcus detected excitement and arousal beneath the surface.
He did as she instructed and squashed his face into the pillows. The tip of her leather glove ran seductively from the nape of his neck over his shoulders and down his back, raising hairs and electricity as it went. His groin tightened and swelled and he lifted his hips slightly to allow his hard-on to rise beneath him unimpeded. A sharp smack to his backside told him quickly how the woman would deal with any unauthorized movements. Here it was. They didn’t know that by punishing him like this they were holding out a key to his freedom.
Smack!
The sound, then the sting. Marcus smiled into the bedding and the woman slid a hand underneath him to feel the stiffening cock.
“Tut-tut,” she purred. “This will never do. Never do at all.”
With one hand gripping him, she administered another five sharp smacks and milked him in time. The movements were constrained; her hand squeezed tight around him and pinned down by his body-weight and tension from being slapped. Liquid seeped from the tip of his cock, smearing over his abdomen and onto the sheets below, and Marcus drifted up and out of himself and began to call to his lover.
Soft light became brighter and the infinity rolling out before him made him feel tiny and immense at the same time. He was riding the waves and pulses of pleasure emanating from the physical and using it to travel through the astral planes.
“Deborah!” he called over and over with his heart and soul. “Deborah!” It was a whisper and a shout, and every time the wave of pleasure retreated, it gathered strength and swelled back fuller, with more urgency. Marcus knew this level of intensity wouldn’t last long. In the distance he could hear what was going on in the chamber and he filtered it out with his calls. “Deborah!”
Suddenly, from a point on the endless horizon a wisp of light appeared and roared toward him. The speed was blinding; he shielded his eyes as it flashed closer and hit him in the chest like a sonic boom.
“Marcus? Are you here?”
He grabbed the energy entity by the face, kissing her hard and entering her spirit while his body convulsed below, releasing a shuddering, shattering climax. Like a mirror breaking and dissolving into a trillion stars, he fell back into his twitching body, panting and writhing in the shock of being back in the physical realm. He was on his back with his cock buried deep in the hot, fiery depths of his captor. She jerked her hips, and her head slumped forward, shuddering, as liquid spilled out from their union over his body.
“My, my, we do respond to our punishment, don’t we?” The woman sat up, still impaled on his softening cock, and swept her hair off her face and over her shoulders, mopping her brow with the back of her hand.
Marcus smiled at her and sat up on his elbows, urging her to move off him. She was very beautiful, he thought, as she curled her long, bare legs up and dismounted, cupping her sex in her palm to keep from spilling anything. For a moment she looked unsure, and Marcus pointed to the little bathroom area.
“It’s all right, you can use that one.”
The woman smiled coyly as if she had suddenly turned shy. When she came back he saw she was indeed shy and he asked if she was okay.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She offered him a brief, tight-lipped smile and gathered her things. “If you don’t mind…” she started, and he thought it sounded like she was about to state her disapproval of the exchange they’d just made. She continued, “I will be back tomorrow, and I may bring a friend.”
Had she really just asked his permission?
Marcus found himself stammering, “Well, y-yes, I don’t see why not.”
He could hardly wait. If that woman could elicit the spiritual journey he’d just been on, he was sure to find Deborah again. And soon. His heart leaped as the now strangely meek woman left his chamber.
* * * *
As soon as the door closed behind Katja, Deborah ran to her bedside table and took up the notebook. They’d found each other. For real this time. Deborah knew for sure how to get back into that place, and she silently thanked the governor for sending her Katja. There was something about the new prisoner, something that connected up the story, but Deborah just couldn’t put her finger on it. Even with the governor, it was different. Yes, she’d come and they’d fucked but there had been no connecting with her lover, not really. Deborah vaguely wondered why this woman would be the missing link to their connection.
She rifled around in the drawer and found a moth-eaten quill and dried-up ink bottle. It took all her might to dislodge the lid but eventually the ink flaked away and she unscrewed it. She spat into the solid block of black and scratched the quill about in it, trying to form a useable paste.
Finding a blank space, Deborah began to write in alternating thin, spidery script and blotching blobs.
I know how to reach him now. The new strange woman, whether she knows it or not, has shown me the way. I will find you again, my love. We will be together.
Deborah lay back in her bedding, euphoric. It had worked after all. She could barely wait for the next day.
Chapter 25
Della placed the lid on her fountain pen and picked up the file she’d been working on as she leaned back into her chair. Twisting her knotted-up neck, she smiled as it cricked, reminding her of why it was so stiff.
Regan and the new inmate had certainly taken to their new roles with exceptional gusto. A shiver of pleasure ran down Della’s back as she remembered the tantalizing view of the action through the peephole in the door. It had been a wonder she hadn’t been discovered, her hand wedged firmly between her legs and her breathing husky as she practically humped against the door.
Surely she’d be forgiven a little perk or two. Della knew she’d been getting a reputation for being a little intimate with some of her fellow guards or delivery people but this was perfect.
That Katja woman is certainly keen on getting out
, Della noted as she scrutinized her papers.
Ahh
, she thought as she read where the new inmate had come from. So she’d lived on a farm. No wonder she was so desperate to go back. Della would give anything for even one sniff of a male. The scent of a man. It had been so long; even the lingering odors of past male employees or prisoners were gone, without a trace.