Authors: Jason Luke
Chapter 16.
I had expected some level of shyness from April when we began Thursday night’s show, anticipating her becoming timid and withdrawn as the first half hour of the program flew quickly by, and we began preparing for the sub-club segment.
Instead, she dutifully cued the music, closed the blinds to block off Grover’s view through the producer’s booth, and demurely began to undress while commercials played over the speaker.
All the while, April refused to look at me. It was as if she had retreated to a world of her own. She seemed calm and focused as she stood in a pair of red lace panties that were high cut across her hips and a bra that looked two sizes too small for her, waiting for my instructions. She had her eyes closed, breathing deeply like she had stolen the idea from a meditation class. There was a pillow on the studio floor that she had brought to work in an oversized shoulder bag.
I glanced up at the clock, suddenly aware of the pressure.
The commercials stopped and the same strains of jazz music that had played beneath the segment the night before came through the speakers. I leaned in to the microphone and deepened my voice so that every word was a calm controlled command that resonated with purpose and will.
“Good evening, sub-club members… and welcome to my world of sexual obedience and submission…” I let a few seconds of music play without speaking and then began again. “I trust that you are alone somewhere in your home, and that you have a candle burning. I expect you to be wearing lingerie. Now…” I paused and husked my voice as if it were filled with lust. “Drop to your knees, and put your hands behind your back.”
Across the small space of the booth, April took a last deep breath and then sank down onto the pillow. She put her hands behind her and the movement pulled at her shoulders so that her breasts seem to bulge. Her back was straight and she had her hair brushed out tonight. It fanned across the lustrous pale flesh of her back, sparking like fire in the dull glow of the studio monitors.
“Good girl,” I spoke to April but the words carried to everyone that was tuned in to the program. “Now make sure your knees are parted. I like to be able to see that gap between your thighs, and the soft mound of your pussy. Present yourself to me so that my imagination can run wild, thinking about the pleasures that await behind that thin film of sexy lace.”
April’s knees were already parted, but she moved them just a little wider. She was looking directly ahead, though I was sure she could see me from the corner of her eye. I studied her the way I would inspect any other submissive woman who presented herself to her Master.
“You look beautiful,” I said softly into the microphone, “and desirable. Open your mouth for me. I need you to be a good girl for your Master tonight, and I know you want to please me.”
April opened her mouth wide and closed her eyes. She lifted her chin a little so I could see the long elegant lines of her throat.
“Last night when we were training, I ordered you not to come. Do you remember?” It was a rhetorical question, but I wanted every woman listening to my voice to feel some connection. I imagined them in their living rooms or bedrooms, nodding their head as their thoughts flashed back to the previous evening. “But I bet some of you did,” my voice took on an edge of harshness for a moment. “I bet some of you were naughty girls and disobeyed me… didn’t you…”
I left a few seconds of dead air and then said, “As punishment, you will spank yourself.”
April’s head turned and she opened her eyes. She was staring at me, her expression a mixture of confusion and anxiety.
“For every time you brought yourself to orgasm since last night’s session, I want you to spank yourself three times – reach back and slap your sexy bottom so you can feel the sting… and imagine it is me, staring down at you sternly, my expression grim as I punish you for coming without your Master’s permission.”
I paused for an instant, sat back in the chair and pulled the boom arm of the mic closer so that I was comfortable. “I’m not talking about the times you might have orgasmed with your lover,” I went on in my deepest, sexiest voice, “I’m talking about the times you were alone, with your fingers thrust deep inside yourself while you were fantasizing about your Master. They are the orgasms you are to be punished for – they are the releases that I strictly forbade you.” The soft lull of my voice disappeared in an instant and suddenly the words lashed like a whip. “Spank yourself!” I commanded. “Three times for every secret nasty disobedient orgasm you gave yourself.”
The music came up. Perhaps in the silence it merely seemed louder. I closed my eyes and started to count to thirty when suddenly there was the sound of a loud slap.
My eyes flew open. April was spanking herself.
I gaped at her in surprise.
Her hand was rising and falling like an axe, the
‘crack’
of each slap leaving a livid red mark on her bottom. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and there was a bleak expression of intense breathless arousal on her face that seemed an intoxicating cocktail of erotic thrill and determination.
Twelve times the loud sound of her spanking herself echoed around the tiny booth before the tension finally went out of her body and she seemed to shudder. Her eyes came open, misted and distant like she was waking from a delicious dream. She turned her head slowly, saw me staring at her, and then blushed with the awkward embarrassment of a schoolgirl. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her head like she was ashamed.
For a moment I was lost – shocked out of character. Long seconds of silence went out across the airwaves. Finally I said, “Remember the sting. Remember how it feels to disappoint your Master… and remember that your mouth, your breasts, your pussy – and your mind, all belong to me now. You gave them to me – you surrendered yourself to me last night when you knelt at my feet and touched that secret part of your soul that craves to submit. Don’t
ever
disappoint or disobey me again.”
In the background I could hear a song ending. I let some of the sting go from my voice. “We’re going to take a short break. When we come back, you had better be prepared to please me.”
April leaped to her feet instinctively and punched at the keyboard. Her face was flushed. She bent over the desk in just her panties and bra and I could see the dampness of her arousal soaked through the fabric between her thighs. Her bottom was still bright red, the marks of her spanking burned on the pale flesh like a brand.
She set four commercials to play and then straightened, sweeping the hair away from her face. We stared at each other in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.
Finally April’s mouth twitched into a guilty smile. “You… you have been on my mind,” she said in understatement. “I’ve been thinking about last night and the idea of submission – a lot.”
I didn’t say anything. April was wringing her hands together, torn by her excruciating embarrassment. She had given herself four orgasms while fantasizing about me. She glanced around the small studio like she was looking for a place to hide.
“You didn’t have to spank yourself…” I began.
April shook her head vehemently. “No,” she insisted. “I wanted to. I decided I wanted to learn how to submit, and I can’t do that unless I commit to the experience completely. But our understanding hasn’t changed, Jericho,” she looked me steadily in the eye. “You arouse me – I never knew that submitting sexually in this way could be such an intense emotional and physical thrill… but I am in a relationship with my partner and I love her very much.”
“I understand,” I said. April was new to the lifestyle, and she would evolve into the woman she wanted to be in her own time. She was young – there were plenty of years ahead of her to work out who she wanted to be, and what sexually aroused her.
But it gave me an idea.
“You want me to train you through these sessions, but you don’t want it to develop into anything specifically sexual, right?”
She nodded her head. The second commercial finished playing. There was less than a minute of time left before we would be back on air. “That’s right. That’s the way it has to be.”
“Can I touch you – without it being sexual?”
“Why would you want to do that?” she asked.
“For the program,” I said sincerely. “That’s all.”
She thought for a few seconds, studying me carefully – perhaps trying to decide how far she could trust me. “I guess that would be okay,” she said.
I nodded. “And can you rig a microphone that can be hand held?”
“Of course – but we don’t use them normally. It doesn’t give the purest sound on air.”
“Try for me,” I urged her. “Quick as you can.”
April bent back over the desk and reached for a drawer. I watched the fine lines of her leg, the flex of her calf and the toned flesh of her thigh as the muscles came under strain. Her bottom was clenched tight into a provocative cleft through the gossamer satin of her panties.
She found a hand-held microphone and plugged it into a jack on the console. She passed it to me. It was a standard mic, but with a much larger foam-padded head, and there was a small cover that hung over the end of the microphone.
“Hold the edge of the guard against your lip,” she explained quickly. “It stops your mouth from getting too close to the mic and distorting the sound.”
I nodded and glanced at the monitors. I didn’t really know what I was looking at. April followed my gaze. “Twenty seconds,” she said. “The last commercial has begun.”
I nodded. “You better get into position.”
The sound of husky jazz music was a smooth transition as we came out of the commercial. I picked up the microphone, unaccustomed to the small amount of freedom it afforded. The cord was long enough that I could easily move to any point of the studio.
“Welcome back to the sub-club segment,” I said calmly. “You should be in position on your knees with your hands clasped behind your back. If you’re not – do it now.”
Manipulating the words I used, the rhythm of those words, and my tone of voice was a skill that every experienced BDSM Master developed with time and practice. In a normal training session a Master gives a lot of emphasis to his body language, and his facial expressions. I had none of those resources to draw on, so the careful play of my voice and the words I used was critical. I wanted listeners to know that I was in an abrupt and business-like mood. I wanted them to know that I expected to be obeyed.
In many ways training a submissive is about knowing when to be demanding and when to show encouragement. Most people respond to praise, and revel in approval. It was important for the authenticity of the radio session that listeners feel that same instinctive desire to please.
April knelt down, shifted her weight until she was comfortable, and put her hands behind her back. I walked with the microphone until I was standing behind her.
“Imagine me right behind where you are kneeling,” I spoke more softly. “Imagine that I am looking at you right now – you can feel my hungry eyes as they caress your body. I’m running my gaze slowly down your back to your waist and hips.” I paused for a heartbeat. “Then imagine the feel of my eyes roaming over your panty-clad bottom. Visualize me stepping closer – so close that I can smell the musky scent of your arousal.”
I took a pace nearer to April and saw her shiver. She sensed me instinctively.
“Think about your tight sweet pussy,” I whispered. “Focus your thoughts onto that one aching part of your body. Clear your mind of everything else apart from the sound of my voice and the tingle you can feel as the tension and arousal begins to burn like a fire. Imagine my tongue, slowly sliding down across your abdomen as you suck in your breath and pray that I will give you relief. Visualize the soft trail of my kisses as they slide down between your spread thighs…” By now my voice had become an almost hypnotic rhythm, carefully modulated into a soft pulsing beat. Every word flowed, nothing jarred – the words came without thought because they were instinctive to me.
“Now imagine the heat of your desire – how desperate you are. Your hips would rock, and there would be a soft desperate groan in the back of your throat. Groan for me now, so that I know you want your Master to let you come…”
April gasped. It was a single choked breath like a shuddering sob that was filled with raw emotion and passion. I saw her fold at the hips as though she was buckling under a fierce clench of her body.
“Bend over,” My voice became a stern command. “I want you on your hands and knees, or if there is a table nearby, I want you to go to the table and bend yourself over it. Spread your legs wide…”
I waited to see which option April would take. She hesitated for a moment. Her body was waving like a branch in a breeze. Finally, dreamily, she got to her feet and went to the studio desk. Not once did she glance at me. She folded forward so that her breasts were pressed to the table top, her face turned to the side, away from me. Her legs were spread apart so that the gap of her pussy was a soft damp mound.
I let a few more seconds of jazz filter through the air while I walked with the microphone towards the desk. April’s hair was splayed out across her shoulders, her body heaving with deep breaths.
“Now that you are comfortable and in position I want you to think about me touching you,” I said slowly. “Focus on how it would feel if my fingertips lightly grazed along the inside of your thigh. Would your skin catch fire? Would you feel yourself buckle at the knees? Would every nerve and fiber in your body suddenly be strung taut?”