Just A Spanking: Tales of Dominance and Submission (9 page)

“Oh, Mel....”
 

“Be back in a flash. Don't go away.”
 

Jana glanced down at the ropes encircling her torso and smiled. “I'm not going anywhere.”

I raced to the bedroom, tore off my suit, and struggled into my favorite harness. I nearly came as I settled the double-headed dildo in place. It was the longest, fattest one in my collection –the one that always makes Jana scream.

 
Her brows arched and her mouth made a perfect O when she saw me. She tugged at her bonds, not because she was trying to escape but because she knows how I love to see her struggle. I grabbed her hips, positioned my cock and drove it into her ready cunt in one fierce thrust. Wrapping her dancer's legs around my body, she allowed me to support and control her. She weighed next to nothing.

As I clutched her ass and plunged the dildo into her juicy depths, she tightened around me. I felt every twitch of her inner muscles in my clit.

“Fuck me, Mel,” she begged. “Harder!”
 

How could I deny my beautiful, brave, twisted girl?

We came together. Pleasure roared through me like a freight train.
My cunt spasmed around the silicon dildo base, sending the vibrations into Jana's pussy.
She screamed and jerked in her bonds, grinding herself against the rod impaling her. The sight of her rope-encircled wrists launched me into a new flight of bliss.

The echoes of our climax faded. I felt wobbly and weak. All at once Jana was almost too heavy for me to hold. She seemed to sense this. She relaxed her thighs. The dildo slipped out of her with a wet, sucking sound, sending a last bolt of pleasure to my clit. I helped her to stand then folded her into my arms, as well as I could
given
her bonds. The clips dug into my chest. I pulled them off, a bit roughly, because I knew that was what Jana wanted.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her tongue traced the contours of my ear. I shivered and held her tighter. “I–I couldn't have done that without you.”

“I told you I'd take care of you, baby. If I have to tie you up in order to make you eat– well, I'll do whatever it takes. How do you feel now?”

“Full.
Happy.
Scared.
I'm tempted to run to the bathroom. But you won't let me do that, will you, Mel?”
 
Devotion shone in her eyes but there was a hint of bratty mischief in her grin.

“I'll take you to the toilet if you need it, but then I'm planning to tie you to the bed and give you something else to eat.” I released her wrists and then unwound the rope coiled around her middle.

“Something else?”
Anxiety crept back into my lover's voice. “Really, Mel–I don't think...”

I extricated the dildo from the harness and held the end that had been embedded in my pussy to her mouth for her to clean off my juices. “Don't worry.
baby
. It's not fattening.”

Stroke

"No."

I nearly jumped out of my sensible shoes at the unexpected command. I whirled to check the motionless figure stretched out on the bed behind me. "What?"

"Don't close the curtains. I want to watch the moon's progress." I glanced back at the window. Sure enough, the silvery orb was just climbing above the silhouettes of the trees surrounding Lindenwood.

"Very well, Mr...."
 
I squinted at his chart in the dimness.
"Carver."
 
Jonathan Carver, age 64, acute right hemispheric CVA.
Hemiplegia, nystagmus, transient apraxia, reduced peripheral vision in left eye.

"It's Dr. Carver. Don't they brief you damned nurses? Teach you some respect?"
 
Even as I bristled
at
 
his
rudeness, my cheeks grew warm with inexplicable shame. His cultured voice held an authority that brought me back to my school days.
Mr. DeFazio and his infamous blackboard pointer.
Tears in the eyes of the
boys
naughty enough to merit his punishment. I was always good, obedient and hard-working, but I remembered the heat of watching.

"Sorry, Dr. Carver."
 
The man fumbled with the bed control, trying to bring raise himself to a sitting position. "Let me help you."

"I can do it myself."A frown furrowed his high forehead, under a shock of steel-gray hair. It took him three tries to get hold of the button, even with his right hand. Clearly there was some bilateral damage. His lips pressed together. His chiseled features twisted in concentration. At last
,
 
the
motor whirred and the back of the bed rose six inches. He sank back into the pillows with a disgusted sigh, scrutinizing his recalcitrant fingers. He had big hands, hands that looked as though they'd been strong.

I smoothed and straightened the coverlet, trying to hide my pity and embarrassment. "Are you more comfortable now?"

He brushed me away. “I'll tell you when I need help,” he growled. “Hopefully, you can follow basic instructions.”

“I'll do my best.” Something about his manner made me blush and stumble. I felt an acute desire to please him, to show him that I was competent and eager to tend to his requirements. Clearly he was accustomed to giving orders.

I tucked the sheet in around his feet, untwisted the cord leading to the bed control, and gathered the used paper cups from his bedside table. I needed to be doing something. His silence made
me
 
increasingly
nervous.

"Enough, enough!
Stop fussing and turn on the light. Let's see what you look like." His voice held all the power that his body had lost. I rushed to the switch, a flock of crazed sparrows fluttering in my stomach. "Come here, girl."

I stood by the chrome railing, staring at my scuffed nurse's shoes, sweat gathering in my armpits and under my breasts.

"Look at me."
 
His tone was softer but no
less firm
. I raised my eyes to his, which were the startling blue of glacial ice. I shivered and burned. "You're new, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, Sir," he corrected me. My nipples tightened inside my bra.

"Yes, Sir."
Just his voice was enough to make me ache.

"What's your name?"

"Cassie, Sir. Cassie Leonard."

"Don't look away, Cassie. Look at me. Do you know who I am?"

"No, Sir. I just started at Lindenwood this week. Before that I was in the rehab department at Miriam Hospital."

"My slaves call me Master Jonathan."
 

My earlobes, my nipples, my fingertips, all seemed to catch fire. I wanted to sink through the floor. I didn't want him to see how his words excited me.

But he did see. I stared at my hands, knuckles white from gripping the rail.

"You have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."
 
An image of Ryan rose in my mind, his brown curls and uneven grin, muscled chest and hard thighs. I did love
him,
truly I did, with his quirky humor, his gentle fingers and his boyish ardor. He was a fine young man. My mother approved of him.

"He doesn't satisfy you." It was a statement, not a question. Tears of remembered frustration pricked the corners of my eyes.
"Why not, Cassie?
Is his cock too small?"

I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with a stranger, a patient, a half-paralyzed man nearly forty years older than I was. I stole a glance at Dr. Carver. His mouth was firm but his eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth.

"No, Sir. His cock is fine." Ryan was justifiably proud of his meaty hard-ons.

"What is it then? Is he a selfish lover? Does he come too quickly for you?"
 

Guilt washed over me. Ryan would happily spend hours licking my pussy and fingering me, trying to get me off. The only way I could manage it was to think about scenes from the kinky porn I hid from him. Whippings and spankings, gags and handcuffs, all the clichés that I couldn't stop myself from wanting.

"Well? Tell me, Cassie. What do you need that he doesn't provide? What do you want?"

My mouth filled with cotton. I couldn't speak. I was acutely aware of my rigid nipples pressing against the starched fabric of my uniform. My clit pulsed like a sore tooth inside my sodden panties.

"Cassie, I'm waiting." His sternness sent electricity shimmering through my limbs. "Don't disappoint me."

I dared a glance at his face. His left eyelid drooped slightly. His eyes snared mine. I couldn't look away. One eyebrow arched in an unspoken question.

"I—um—I want him to, uh, to do things to me. That he doesn't want to do.” I tried to break away from his gaze, but the force of his will held me.

“Things?”
  
He sounded amused. A fresh wave of hot, wet shame swamped my body. “What sort of things?”

“Uh—tie me up. Spank me. Use me. Treat me like his slave.” It all came out in a rush, the desires I'd never shared with anyone except Ryan. Even then, I'd only shown him the tip of the iceberg, the least perverted of my needs. “He wouldn't, though. He was shocked when I told him.
Disgusted.
Said that I had a filthy mind.”
The tears that had gathered earlier spilled out over my cheeks.

“I imagine that you do, little one, delightfully filthy.” His voice was a caress, soothing and seductive. “I knew that right away, just from your reactions to my voice. Your deepest desire is to submit to a strong master, isn't it?”

“Yes–Sir.”
 
I felt relief, now that I'd admitted my secret. He at least didn't seem to condemn me.

“You want to be beaten and buggered, shackled to the bed and split open by a huge cock. You want to bath in your master's come, maybe even his piss. To be forced to service his friends.”

It was thrilling and horrible, listening to him enumerating my darkest fantasies out loud. My clit felt the size of a ripe plum, swollen and juicy, ready to burst. I nodded, still finding it difficult to expose myself so completely.

“I will do those things for you, if you'd like.”

“You?”
 
The suggestion startled me enough that I forgot the honorific, but he seemed to forgive my lapse. I searched his handsome, ravaged face. “How...?”

“Don't underestimate me, girl. I may not be the Dom I once was, but I can still make you burn for my touch. I can still make you beg.” He snagged the button on the end of its cord and raised himself to full sitting position. He moved more smoothly and easily than before. “Remove your clothing.”

I stood just stood there, petrified by mingled fear and excitement. If anyone discovered us, I'd lose my job. I'd never work as a nurse again. Five years of education down the drain. But this might
be
 
my
only chance.
The chance to make my fantasies real.

“Didn't you hear me? I told you to strip.”

“Uh–yes, yes, Sir.”
 
I tore two buttons off my blouse struggling to remove it. I tripped and nearly toppled onto the bed while wrestling with my trousers. When I unfastened my bra and released the weight of my breasts, Dr. Carver let out his breath in a long, appreciative sigh. A little thrill of triumph sang through me. He wanted me. My Master wanted me.

I slid my soaked bikini over my hips and down to my ankles. The seaside scent of my pussy rose around us. I would have been embarrassed if I had not been so aroused.

“Give them to me.”
 
I put the damp slip of cloth in his open palm. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Lovely. You're already wet, from simple anticipation. Wait until you experience real pain.” He reached for one of my aching nipples and pinched it until I yelped.

“Go get a pair of forceps from that drawer under the sink.”
 
I scurried off and returned with the article he requested. I wondered how he knew where the medical instruments were stored. Could it be that he had seduced my predecessor the same way as he overwhelmed me? I didn't have time to be jealous, though. He caught my left nipple in the jaws of the forceps and clamped down hard.

Pain raced from my tortured breast to my pussy, transmuting to pleasure on the way. The harder he squeezed, the more tightly my cunt clenched. Fresh pussy-juice gushed from my cleft. I moaned
,
struggling to stand as he gradually increased the force of his grip.

“Do you like that, girl?” He released the inflamed left nipple and captured the right, sending new pangs arcing through me. I trembled, panting, unable to answer even if I dared. “You don't need to tell me. I know you do. You'll like it even more when I clamp your fat red clit.” I came close to exploding at the obscene image.
My cunt spasmed.
My whole body shuddered. “I can't wait to hear your screams.”