FalltoPieces (4 page)

Vivien uncrossed her legs and spread them with all the
allure of a seasoned burlesque dancer. Soft red light bathed her open thighs
and hinted at the tantalizing slit hidden under the shadows of her rucked-up
skirt. Joy surged in Polly’s chest. Her mouth watered.

“Did you come?” Vivien asked, trailing her fingertips up the
inside of her own thigh.

Polly couldn’t drag her gaze away as her Mistress opened her
legs to unveil more. Succulent flesh folded and creased like a seductive bud
sheathing a tender center, the petals unfurling as she spread her thighs wider
apart. Vivien raked a finger through her furrow, sucking in a breath as she
reached inside herself.

Every muscle in Polly’s body twitched in anticipation. She’d
never wanted to pleasure anyone more than she did right now. Silently begging,
her gaze flicked to Vivien’s eyes.

“Come closer,” Vivien said, leaning forward as Polly crawled
to her.

Vivien dragged her cream-coated finger across Polly’s bottom
lip.

Polly’s tongue darted out to sample it as Vivien leaned
back. “Hands behind your back,” she murmured even as Polly readily obeyed. “Eat
my pussy. Make me come.”

As Polly bent, Vivien slid her hips slightly forward,
opening herself, making her skirt ride higher on her thighs.

Usually Polly enjoyed the slow build of eating a woman’s cunt.
She liked to nibble the inner thighs, to blow hot breaths across an aroused
clit, to tease and gently explore.

Not today.

Trembling, she covered her Mistress’s pussy, opening her
mouth to take as much as she could, laving the velvety petals with rough, needy
strokes. She sucked at the flesh as if it were a juicy peach and then speared
her tongue into the opening. Wetness covered her chin and the tip of her nose as
she nuzzled closer.

Hands clasped behind her back, plugged tight, her ass cheeks
burning from the savage spanking she’d received, she’d never felt more
beautiful, more in touch with her body. Submission was the piece that had been
missing, the element that brought sex into focus for her.

She thrilled at the knowledge. Looked forward to exploring
more, to surrendering to the shame of needing Vivien’s cruel delights. But
Polly knew with innate certainty that normal sex would forever pale in
comparison to this.

Vivien’s hands speared into her hair. She pulled her roughly
closer, tilting her hips up to grind her pussy in Polly’s face.

Polly moaned, struggling to mouth her Mistress’s clit
against the rhythmic pumping.

“Eat my cunt,” Vivien commanded, her sharp tone encouraging
Polly.

The fingers in her hair flexed and tightened. Passion
vibrated from Mistress to slave and Polly felt the spasms of Vivien’s orgasm.
Taut thighs gripped Polly’s face as the hip-rolling slowed to undulating waves.
Short, harsh breaths echoed through the studio.

Polly rested her head against a soft thigh as she gently
continued to lick Vivien’s pussy. Finally she kissed the orgasm-engorged clit
softly before kneeling up. “Thank you, Ma’am.” The expression of gratitude came
out so naturally, it shook Polly to her core.

Their eyes locked for several heartbeats and then Vivien
opened her arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Polly didn’t hesitate. Something primitive in her longed to
be rewarded and petted. She didn’t comprehend it, nor did she stop to try.

Vivien drew Polly into her lap and reached for a soft throw
that she used to cover her. As Polly closed her eyes and snuggled her face into
her Mistress’s copious cleavage, she felt Vivien’s fingers searching between
her legs then tugging the plug loose. There was a moment of hot pressure and
then she was free.

Empty.

Vivien’s arms closed around her and held her close. Warm and
sheltered, Polly drifted, high on the muddled contrast of pleasure and pain.
Her mind went blissfully blank to everything except the soothing fingers
stroking her hair, the subtle fragrance of expensive perfume mixed with the
sweet, earthy scent of Vivien’s pussy.

Only one thought intruded.

Her life as she’d previously known it was gone.

She was forever changed.

With her eyes on the jazz trio on the stage in Sambuca’s
Vivien sipped a dirty gin martini. Mallory Hayes sat on the barstool beside
her, awaiting an answer to her question. But Vivien wasn’t certain how to
respond.

“Well?” Mallory asked. “Am I wasting my time with her?”

Vivien centered her glass on the cocktail napkin. “No. Not
at all.”

Mallory chuckled. “You’re being awfully tight-lipped about
her. I haven’t seen you like this since…since the congresswoman was last in
town.”

Vivien shot her a nasty look before glancing left and right
to make sure none of the up-and-coming Nashville professional crowd overheard.

“You haven’t congratulated her on her nomination for
Secretary of State?” Mallory grinned as she plucked an olive off the cocktail
pick.

“Of course not,” Vivien said. “I’d rather not discuss her.”

“Then dish on Polly Purebred.”

Vivien couldn’t quell the little smile that played on her
lips—despite Mallory’s bringing up Claire Barnes.

The affair had been brief. All-consuming.

And dangerous.

When Vivien had first taken Claire as a client, Claire had
been in the midst of a heated campaign for her district’s seat in Congress.

She’d also been married. To a man.

Vivien inhaled at the memory of the outwardly polished,
business-chic blonde. With her short hair and ironically studious glasses
Claire had looked the part of a well-honed politician. A woman who appeared to
have it all. A strikingly handsome husband. Two sons who showed promise. A dog.
The white picket fence and everything.

Inside Claire was as broken as a person could be.

Vivien had been both therapist and dominatrix. And when
Claire revealed the secret she’d hidden all her life—that she knew in her heart
she was a lesbian—they’d become secret lovers.

Vivien had broken her own self-imposed cardinal rule never
to get involved with a client but the wounded bird in Claire had spoken to
Vivien on a thousand levels. She’d known from the start the relationship was
doomed, that a politician whose star was on the rise would never leave a
husband and career for her lesbian lover.

And yet Vivien hadn’t been able to stop. She saw Claire at
every opportunity. They texted and emailed and communicated in every other way
that was detrimental to a politician’s career.

It almost seemed as if Claire wanted to be found out. Vivien
wouldn’t have discouraged her.

Until Claire’s landslide election and subsequent offer to
take the position of Secretary of State. After that, reality had obviously set
in because Claire ended it in a two-word text message.

It’s over.

“Don’t go getting all melancholy on me now,” Mallory said,
bringing her back to the present. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. I
just want to know how Polly’s first time went.”

Vivien’s thoughts shifted to the doe-eyed blonde she’d
trained just that morning. Polly was eager. Curious. Perfectly suited to being
a submissive. Vivien drew in a deep breath. Her thighs warmed at the memory of
Polly’s hungry mouth moving over her pussy. She too was a wounded bird in need
of rescue. Vivien wasn’t sure how or why just yet. But she recognized it when
she saw it. “You chose well. She’ll do quite nicely.”

Mallory did an impromptu victory dance on her barstool. “I
knew it!”

Vivien was in no mood to joke. She didn’t take her position
as a Domme lightly. With each new client she walked a fine line of
professionalism and romantic involvement. Most of the time it was she who
gently kept them at a distance. Rarely—so very rarely—she was forced to remind
herself to remain aloof.

Again the image of Polly’s head delving between her legs
flashed like a lightning strike in Vivien’s mind. She’d never been eaten by
someone so eager, so affected by the need to submit.

Hell, Vivien had never allowed anyone to pleasure her the
first time. But when Polly had spontaneously orgasmed while being spanked…

Vivien uncrossed then recrossed her legs, hoping to
alleviate the needy throbbing in her panties.

This training wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined.

* * * * *

Polly glanced at her phone, hoping to see a text from
Sherri. She needed to get out of her apartment, to be around people. Here she
was tempted to strip off all her clothes and masturbate herself into oblivion.

But Vivien had forbidden it.

Additionally her Mistress had promised to punish her for
coming without permission. The thought of that alone made Polly’s panties wet.

She raked her fingers through her hair and blew out a sigh.
She’d tried to read, to watch TV, even to work on the song she was writing, but
she couldn’t think about anything except what she’d experienced in Vivien’s
studio.

Images, dark and tinged red, faded in and out of view in her
head. Overriding them all was the picture of Vivien’s thighs spread to reveal
the petal folds of her pussy.

An insidious voice urged Polly to slide her fingers into her
panties, to touch herself. Trembling, she leaned against the wall and pulled
loose the drawstring on her pajama pants. Vivien would be disappointed. She’d
punish her.

But the thoughts of exactly what that punishment might
entail encouraged Polly rather than deterred her.

A jolt passed through her when her fingertips found and
moved in a circular motion on her clit.

Vivien had told her to text her if she masturbated, to let
her know so she could punish her.

The idea of sending that message drove Polly’s arousal
higher. She imagined herself on the spanking table, telling her Mistress that
she’d been bad, that she needed to be paddled.

Her breathing hitched. She’d rarely been able to bring
herself to orgasm without the use of a vibrator. Not now. Not today.

“Fuck…” The word was a muttered breath.
Oh fuck yes. I’m
coming.
Sensation budded and crashed through her. Once wouldn’t be enough.
She continued to rub until she came again and then, exhausted, she slid down
the wall, basking in the warm waves still coursing through her belly, her
pussy, her limbs.

When the last traces of pleasure subsided she clambered to
her feet and retrieved her phone. Fingers shaking, she tapped out a text to her
Mistress.
I touched myself until I came. Twice.

Her blood seemed to thicken in her veins as her thumb
hovered over the Send button. Her heart pounded with relentless force. She
didn’t have to tell Vivien.

The realization that she wanted to tell her rattled Polly. A
calm knowledge that she’d know the sweet sting of that paddle again warmed her
from the inside out.

She punched Send.

She couldn’t wait to pay for her disobedience.

* * * * *

As Vivien signed her tab, her phone chirped, indicating
she’d received a text. She swiped the screen.
I touched myself until I came.
Twice.

Heat flared between her legs at the idea of her sub
masturbating but Vivien quickly willed her own desire away. “Looks as if I have
a naughty one on my hands,” she murmured as she replied.
Enjoy the afterglow
now. Your bottom will be glowing as you suffer the consequences tomorrow.

Mallory’s lips pulled into a knowing smile. “Don’t you just
love it when they beg to be spanked?”

* * * * *

Excitement tingled in Polly’s stomach as she kneeled on the
rug in her Mistress’s foyer, hands clasped behind her back, legs spread as
widely as possible. Her pulse pounded relentlessly in her ears as the outside
world slipped far away. There was only this. Only Ma’am. Only the pleasure-pain
of her touch.

Polly’s breath caught as the door swung open. Dressed in her
black skirt, white blouse, stockings and heels, Vivien stood on the threshold. “Come
in.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Polly said as she readily crawled into the
room. Sweet shame mingled with her desire to please, to push her Mistress to
the limits.

“Get on the platform. Head down. Ass up.” Vivien’s tone was
like a harsh symphony in Polly’s ears.

Obediently she crawled up onto a stagelike platform at one
end of the dark studio. Instinct carried to her to where the soft red glow of a
spotlight shown down. She imagined herself as if outside her body, looking down
at how beautifully submissive she was with her legs spread and her forehead
pressed down to the padded floor of the stage.

Her inner muscles clenched as she awaited the insertion of
the plug she knew would follow. Just yesterday she couldn’t have dreamed of
wanting such a thing—to have a butt plug seated firmly in her ass. Today she
couldn’t fathom being without it, of missing the sensation of fullness, the
constant reminder that Ma’am was in control.

Polly’s heart beat faster with every step she heard Vivien
take toward her.

“This is not the same plug I used yesterday,” Vivien said.

Polly jerked at the cold sensation of lube being slathered
on her opening.

“The one I used yesterday was just to get you used to the feeling
of something in your ass. This one will be bigger,” Vivien promised, sliding a
finger, then two, deep inside Polly’s bottom.

Polly tried to swallow. Tension radiated through her body.
She wondered if she could tolerate it. And yet she wanted that ragged edge of
pain, that thrill of being pushed to a precipice.

The two fingers stretched her as they worked in and out and
when Vivien removed them completely Polly moaned her need to be filled.

She held her breath as the tip of the new plug nudged her
rosette. A hand glided up and down the outside of one thigh, soothing her in
stark contrast to the threatening silicone about to invade her ass. “Relax,
darling.”

Polly dipped her spine, pushing her bottom up in unspoken
invitation.

“Push back against the plug,” Vivien instructed.

The second Polly pushed toward it, the plug breached her
rim. She gasped at the smarting burn. Terror that she couldn’t take it flooded
her. Vivien twisted the plug, working it slowly, deliberately inside.

Every instinct in Polly’s body urged her to clench, to shy
away. Balling her fists and biting her bottom lip, she forced herself to submit
to the intrusion. Her ass stretched to admit half the plug.

Perspiration beaded on her forehead and broke out along the
length of her spine.

“You’re doing beautifully,” Vivien encouraged. “Let it
inside you. Surrender.”

Mewling, Polly stopped struggling against the slick pressure.
Her clit pulsed as inch by wicked inch the plug moved into her. Finally her
sphincter closed around the narrow base and she let out the breath she’d been
holding.

The pain subsided into something indescribable and erotic.
She felt so full. Every breath caused her ass to throb around the device deep
inside her. She needed to come but the desire to wait took precedence. She
hadn’t earned the right to enjoy pleasure yet.

Her breathing deepened and she felt herself slipping into
that floating space she’d only ever experienced with Vivien.

“That’s lovely,” Vivien said. “You love that big plug in
your bottom, don’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Polly’s voice sounded thick and faraway in her
ears.

“Now,” Vivien told her. “You must be punished. You must be
taught not to come without permission.”

Polly gulped. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Come with me.” Vivien turned and strode toward a bar that
reminded Polly of a gymnastics setup.

The bar itself was slightly padded. Two cuffs dangled from
chains that disappeared into the blackness of the ceiling. Another bar, a
little over two feet long with cuffs on each end, waited at the base of the contraption.

The plug shifted unmercifully as Polly crawled across the
soft flooring. She ached to stop, to fall to her side and press her legs
together to assuage the needy pounding in her clit.

“Stand,” Vivien ordered. “Lean over the bar.”

Polly’s knees ached as she carefully gained her feet. The
bar hit her right at the hips. Vivien took and lifted one of Polly’s hands,
securing it snugly in the Velcro cuffs. When the other was in place Polly was
stretched almost to the point of being up on tiptoe. Only the bar prevented her
from toppling forward.

“Spread your legs,” Vivien said, nudging one of Polly’s feet
open with the toe of her shoe.

Polly complied, straining as Vivien ordered her to take a
wider stance. Trembling, Polly waited while her Mistress fastened the spreader
bar with a cuff on each ankle. She’d never been restrained like this and the
lurking panic propelled her cocktail of fear and desire higher and higher.

Wide-eyed, she twisted and squirmed, loving the feel and
pull of the restraints. Vivien had left her and Polly couldn’t tell where she’d
gone.

The smack of the same leather paddle Vivien had used
yesterday cracked the air. Polly’s backside warmed in anticipation.

Spank me, Ma’am. Punish me…

Her thighs trembled. Her toes scrabbled for a firmer
position on the floor. Bound like this she couldn’t brace herself. She’d be
completely at Vivien’s mercy.

Soft light illuminated a mirror in front of her. Other
mirrors loomed into view behind so that she could see herself in all her
submissive glory. Shame burned in her cheeks. She’d allowed this. She’d offered
herself up to be chained and spread.

Experiencing it was one thing. Humiliated by her own desire
she looked at herself, reflected to infinity, naked, arms up, legs anchored
apart by a bar, the visible nub of the plug jutting from her bottom, her pussy
on display due to her ignominious posture.

She shut her eyes and twisted her head away.

“Look at yourself!” Vivien commanded.

Reluctantly Polly opened her eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have a choice, do you?”

God, Vivien was beautiful, standing there, one hand on her
hip, the other tapping the black leather paddle against her own thigh. Polly
wanted to gaze at her, to beg her forgiveness for masturbating.