THE TAMING SCHOOL
Kat liked Peter's home. It teetered that fine line between the masculine and the feminine, leaning on the grace and beauty of both. She felt comfortable there—even in her nudity—as if she’d been there and walked its rooms countless times. It was nice.
Idly, she walked to the big round dining table, letting her fingers trail its edge. There, wrapped up prettily, was a box. She wondered what was inside. It looked expensive, expertly wrapped the way that it was. The glitteringly gold wrapping paper was perfectly creased and folded and the shimmery, deep green ribbon was tied in the kind of big, floppy bow that she’d never seen outside department store displays.
Kat had grown up lower-middle-class and unaccustomed to having luxuries—always scraping by paycheck to paycheck. The gift box alone looked too lavish for someone in her income bracket, never mind the gift inside. She was afraid to touch it.
But because Peter said she could—because he’d gotten it just for her—she did, carefully undoing the bow before rolling the ribbon neatly. Then she carefully turned the package over and scrounged around for the hidden strips of tape, before gingerly peeling back the paper from the box. She lifted the plain white cover and reached inside.
Kat practically moaned as her fingers grasped the soft silk that ran smooth like liquid lust through her hands. She pulled the forest green robe from the box and held it against herself. It wasn’t the polyester-blend synthetics that she’d admired in the stores. It was real. She’d never felt anything so sinful in her life.
She grinned as she slipped it on, letting the fabric drape over her before tying the sash around her waist. Unlike the long-cotton robes she’d tried on in the shops, Peter’s gift didn’t drag on the floor or pinch in the sleeves. It fit as if it’d been tailored for her, created for her.
She felt like a queen.
On a whim, she took the green ribbon from the table and wound it around her head, binding her long hair into a bun at the base of her skull.
She felt like a gift. She wanted to give herself to him.
With her mind on Peter, waiting for her in his office, Kat made her way up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the first door to the right.
“Come in.”
———
Peter waited until he heard the door shut behind her before glancing up leisurely. He’d chosen his office as their meeting place for several reasons. It was the seat of power in his house. The place where he ran his lucrative technological securities business. The place where he was boss.
It also made for a great image. The wall behind him was almost all window, backlighting him with soft twilight, with a postcard-esque backdrop view of the ocean—making an otherwise stark, almost Spartan room seem like the frame to a magnificent work of art. His desk, the most prominent feature in the room, faced the door with the rest of furniture—all dark leather and polished mahogany—set around him, angled toward him, making it—and by extension, him—seem larger and more imposing. An elegant, older female client had once remarked that, if the ancient gods could have modern day offices, they would look like this.
But none of it compared to the vision she made standing in front of his desk in his gift.
Damn, he thought, trying his best to ignore his burgeoning erection.
He’d chosen the robe online the night he’d met her—while his mind was still full with the vivid memory of her—liking the color and cut for Kat. The deep leafy green draped over her dark brown skin, putting in his mind thoughts of Daphne and Diana, mythic figures whose virginity hadn’t made them innocent but instead made them strong.
He wanted to give her that strength, wanted to see her use it and own it. To wield it like a weapon against the world. Against him.
“Have a seat,” he said matter-of-factly, determined to make quick the usual niceties and agreements. Treat it like a business meeting. Quick and efficient. Because he had better things he’d like to do with her than converse. So he steeled himself, putting play out of his mind and focusing on the task at hand. He trained his gaze on her, feeling ready and calm.
But then she sat down. Settling deep into one of the cushy, brown leather chairs across from his desk, she’d let her robe part to frame her thin, but shapely legs like a curtain before opening act. He groaned, anticipating his own explosive denouement.
God, he could just imagine the feel of those legs, that looked just long enough to wrap around his waist, clinging desperately to him as he thrust deep and hard inside her. He swallowed roughly, his hunger a brutal thing raging inside him. Peter caught himself staring—leering—at the barely covered juncture between her exposed thighs before snapping his attention upward.
Damn, he thought again.
He’d chosen the robe’s long length because, while he planned for her to spend a good deal of their time together naked, there were times—in particular, this moment—where he needed both their minds clear, alert, and aware.
But just the way the robe dipped and flowed over her body, opening to reveal while still cleverly concealing, made his mouth water and his mind fog with lust. With toes barely scraping the carpeted floor, she crossed her legs primly at her ankles, the play of shadows between her thighs mesmerizing before disappearing into the close. Double damn.
He cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses. “We need to discuss the rules of our arrangement,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said, her voice breathier and just a pitch higher than normal. She was nervous. To be expected, but in the midst of her nerves was excitement too. Peter could feel it coming off her in waves and his cock instinctively twitched.
“Thank you for the robe, by the way,” she said, fingering the soft material over her tanned, toned thighs. “It’s beautiful.”
“It suits you,” he said more gruffly than he’d intended, his eyes still following her fingers’ every flick over the silk. He felt his fist fiercely clench just to avoid reaching out to touch and grab and take.
“Thank you.”
Lord, he had to find his bearings. This was not the way this worked. Not the way he worked, turned so completely on by a robe! Albeit an expensive, designer, silk robe specially ordered to fit her precisely and to perfectly display her every asset, but still a scrap of cloth. Certainly nothing to get this excited over.
But it wasn’t just the robe. It was her. The whole package. Her small, sweet voice reminiscent of school-girl fantasies had him wondering if he had a ruler, one of those sturdy twelve-inch wooden ones, somewhere in the house. The way she sat with her hands folded on her lap, tucked between her knees, was unconsciously sexy—both pushing her small breasts together to reveal delicious cleavage between the folded halves of the robe and drawing his attention lower. Ever lower. Her features made every moment a test in restraint. Even her posture, deferring and dipped just a bit—making her already tiny form even smaller—made him feel huge and foreboding in a way that he’d never really experienced before with any other woman. The rush was incredible.
He shook his head and bit back a groan. Get it together, Richards, he ordered himself.
“The rules,” he started again, standing to stalk the room. “The first being that I am in charge.” He moved to stand at the back of the large, leather chair, standing behind her, over her. “Say it.”
She shifted to face him, but Peter laid his hands on her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place. He wanted her here, like this, for a little longer. Understanding, she settled back down, facing forward, her spine straightening into perfect posture. She nodded and stated clearly, “You’re in charge.”
“Good girl,” he said, soothing his hands over the silk before removing his hands. “I am in charge. Not you. You will do what I say, when I say it, and without question, because you want to please me. Don’t you, Katherina?”
“Yes, Peter,” she murmured emphatically, making him swell.
“In addition, you will not do anything without my express permission. Any deviations from my precise instructions will result in punishment. And I promise, you will not like it, is that understood?”
Again, she answered dutifully, “Yes, Peter.”
“You will give yourself completely over to me. Not just your body, but your mind—your thoughts, your desires, all of it—without hesitation. Do you have questions on any of this?”
“No, Peter.”
“All right,” Peter told her, moving once again to face her with his arms crossed in front of him, the ridge of his erection scant breaths from her lips. “Your second rule, you will rid yourself of everything from your everyday life—clothes, jewelry, stress, worries—before you enter this house. I may leave you instructions that you will follow exactly. At the end of each of your stays, I may have more instructions for you. You will follow these guidelines perfectly, even while you are outside of this house. Do you agree to this?”
“Yes, Peter.”
“Do you understand what this means, Katherina? Do you really?” he asked. “You will be mine in every way until our contract ends. You will do whatever I want whenever I want however I want or you are welcome to leave. Once you leave, you cannot come back. Do you understand?”
This time she paused slightly, understanding weighing heavy in her mind. He gave her the moment she needed in order to be sure. He saw her take a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Peter.”
“Good,” he told her, laying a gentle hand on her head. A glimmer of a smile played on her lips. Lord, his hand nearly shook with the need to pull her face a quarter of an inch further so her lips would lay flush across his fly. He imagined his fingers threading through her hair as his flesh parted her smiling lips on an impassioned “o.” Instead, he patted her head before crossing his arms again. “Moving on, tell me, do you know what a safeword is?”
She nodded her head, the tip of her nose just barely brushing the front of his bulging pants. In a breathy voice, barely loud enough to hear, she said, “It’s a word you say when you want to stop, when you’re hurt or uncomfortable with what’s happening.”
“It’s more than that,” he told her, staring down his nose at her sitting stiff and wanting with her gaze locked on his hard-on. “In BDSM, the mental games we play are just as important—if not more so—than the ones we play with our bodies. Often these games make us face parts of ourselves that we didn’t even know existed, tests the boundaries of what we thought we were capable of, within a safe space of our own control. In order to do that, you must give yourself completely over to that space, must commit to it fully, leaving everything else out. Safewords are the only things that exist outside that space. With those words, you can decide the fate of the game. You, Kat, have three.” Peter paused to tip her head back, letting his fingers glide over her hair until they cradled her skull, so she was looking into his eyes. Her black eyes were so wide, almost all dark pupil, and hazy with her own eager hunger. Her lips were parted, her breath coming out in quick, heated pants. “Green means you’re good and the game can continue as is. Yellow means you want the action to slow down, but the scene can still go on. Red means you want to scene to stop. Repeat this back to me.”
She swallowed, licking those full, pink lips before replying, “Green means I want the game to go on. Yellow means I want it to slow down. And red means I want it to stop.”
“Exactly,” he said with a curt nod. “If I ask for your color, you will respond with one of those words and only those. Any other response will be ignored or possibly penalized.” He leaned in close and, digging his hands into her bound hair, he gave a slight tug, just enough to hurt, to get her attention. He wanted to know she heard him. This was important. He pulled her head back to stare into her black eyes, sparking with hot-edged fear. He leaned in close and whispered, his voice a raspy rake against the soft curve of her cheek. “You could scream and beg for me to stop and it wouldn’t mean anything—not one thing, Kat. All the tears in the world wouldn’t protect or save you. You could strike back at me and all I would do is bind your hands and feet and punish you. Severely.” He gave one last tug, sharp enough to make her wince and suck in a harsh breath, before loosening his grip to gently massage the back of her head. Leaning back again, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut in response, practically purring at this small, tender gesture. “But with one word, either yellow or red, you can stop my hand, stop the game. So, Katherina, what’s your color?”
“Green,” she said hesitantly. “May I ask a question?”
He gave another nod.
“When are you…” she started only to trail off nervously, her gaze faltering for a moment. But she wanted to know. She had to know. “I mean, when are we going to,” she shrugged and hedged, “you know?”
She felt her face flush and was grateful for her dark skin that hid her blush. Lord, she hated being a virgin. So skittish and embarrassed. She was just so tired of it hanging over her like some lily-white letter stitched straight into her heart. Part of her just wanted to get it over with so she could move on.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” So much she felt crushed beneath its weight.
“What do you want?”
“You.” Wasn’t that obvious? She thought it pitifully so.
“What do you want me to do?”
She looked up questioningly at him. He knew what she wanted. It was why she’d come here, why she’d posted that damn ad that had started this whole thing. She didn’t understand where he was going with all his questions.
As if reading her confusion, he shook his head. “Say it.” Gripping her chin in his hand, Peter urged her, “Learn the words, Katherina. Tell me what you want.”
Understanding dawning, Kat sighed. “I want you to touch me,” she told him.
“I am touching you,” he said, squeezing her captured chin a bit. “Tell me what you really want.”
“I want you to sleep with me.”
She yelped when he quickly reached out and pinched her nipple mercilessly. Instinctively, she moved to cover her breasts but he shook her chin that was still clutched in his other hand, stopping her. “Do not move,” he growled. “Do not do anything I don’t tell you to do, including sugarcoating your words.” He tightened his grip on her face again, digging his fingers into her jaw and jerking her ruthlessly. “You’re an English major, Kat, so you know all about the power of words. I’ll bet you know a thousand different ways to say how badly you need to feel my dick thrusting deep inside you, how you’re just gagging for it.” Not used to such graphic speech, Kat flinched at his language, but he would have none of her modesty, continuing on uncaring. “But no matter how you phrase it you’re still just a bitch in heat too naïve and nervous to even say the words, aren’t you?”
Kat felt tears burn behind her eyes. Shame and hurt welled deep inside of her, threatening to drown her. Is that what he thought? Is that how he saw her? As some desperate spinster so eager to give it away that…
Kat blinked as realization hit her hard.
As some spinster so desperate that she’d posted an ad online, advertising her virginity like a lamp for sale on eBay, there for the taking by the best bidder. Well, that was exactly what she was, wasn’t she? No matter how she said it, whatever pretty words she could weave, it didn’t change what she’d done. It didn’t change the situation she was in. This wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about fairytale love.
She wanted sex. She wanted to be fucked.
“Say it,” he ordered, loosening his grasp.
She looked up, her eyes flashing defiantly. “I want to be fucked,” she said clearly and without any shame. She never knew how freeing it was to speak so plainly. To talk dirty. She straightened her spine, pressing her breasts against his chest aggressively. “I want you,” she told him, meeting him gaze for heated gaze, “to fuck me. Please, fuck me.” It wasn’t a request. It was a declaration, Kat knew, more than a little surprised to hear her own clear statement of desire. It sounded like a dare.
He smiled and let go of her chin. “No.”
She frowned, confused, and then recoiled as his words belatedly registered.
“At least, not yet,” he added. He bowed his head, staring her right in the eye, pushing her even further back. “Rest assured, by the time I’m through with you, there will be nothing virginal left in you. I will take you and use you in every way I want. And when I’m done, you’ll beg me to do it all over again. Won’t you?”
Oh, God, yes. “Yes, Peter,” her voice reverting back into the soft, instinctively submissive tone.
“That’s right,” he said, a smug smirk on his face. “You want me to fuck you. You want to be fucked by me.” He leaned back again, his hazel eyes losing all trace of kindness—wiped away by the clear surge of sexual power. “But I won’t. Not until I want to.”
Kat wanted to weep. It was cruel, to give her a sense of control—to make her feel so strong and self-assured—only to yank it away again. To make her face the full brunt of her desires only to deny them. She felt so off-kilter, so spun. She felt tired. Her knees weak, she felt them start to buckle.
But then his arm was around her, snaked possessively—protectively—around her waist. “Who knew virgins actually swooned?” he said, sounding more like the Peter she’d first met in that bar, laughter touching and coloring his voice. “Kat, your color.”
“Greenish,” she said, chewing on her lip and clinging to his arms, “I think.”
She felt him nod next to her neck before he spun them smoothly, pulling her onto his lap as they both sank into the luxurious cushion of the leather chair. She could feel the press of his cock, thick and hard, between the cheeks of her ass—a reminder that, whatever he said, he wanted her too. She sighed, that thought like a balm over her ego, and settled herself against him, cuddling nearer.
His arms were strong, wrapped as they were around her waist, his hands flat against her sides, making her feel securely trapped. She felt held inescapably safe in his embrace. She breathed easier, only now realizing how tense—how pulled tight—she’d actually been. She sighed and let her body lie relaxed against his.
For a long moment, they just sat there, both catching their breath.
“Kat,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Yes?”
He was quiet for a second, tightening his arms around her. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been with someone outside of my world,” he told her, sounding unsure—a strange tone to hear in his voice. It was kind of nice. “Much less a virgin. I don’t want to rush you or scare you or overwhelm you, Kat. I don’t want to go too far,” he sighed, pained. “Tell me how far you feel comfortable going,” he said, his tone more curious than commanding. “Where are your limits?”
She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side in thought. “I don’t really know,” she said. How was she supposed to know how far she could to go if she’d never gone? “I suppose that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
He nodded and cuddled her tighter. “Before we go any further, I want you to know—to understand—that you can and should tell me if you’re uncomfortable with anything we do. I want you to promise me, Kat, that you’ll be honest with me about this.”
She turned to him, shifting her weight in his lap. Looking into his eyes, she could see how serious he was. Trying to be just as serious, she told him, “I promise, Peter.”
He let out a breath before settling her against him. “Good,” he said, his voice gaining more of his usual confidence. “Since you can’t yet tell me how far you want to go, tell me how far you’ve gone.”
She shrugged. “Not very far,” she told him. “I’ve kissed guys. I’ve messed around some.”
“Meaning?” he asked, his harder tone creeping back into his voice.
Learn the words, she told herself. Speak plain. “I’ve had five boyfriends,” Kat said, her tone strengthening too. “I’ve kissed all of them. I’ve seen three of them naked. Four of them saw me naked. Two of them felt up my breasts. One of them fingered me while he laid on top of me wearing nothing more than boxers and socks.”
There was a pause while he thought about her words. “Have you ever gone down on anyone?”
She grinned. Who was sugarcoating now? “No,” she said, “I’ve never sucked cock.”
He chuckled softly. “Okay,” he said, his hands moving lower to rub her thighs, “did any of the five eat your pussy?”
Her smile widened. “No.”
She could feel him nod, hoping that was a sign that, at some time of his choosing, he would. “So you’ve had some guy’s finger inside you. How many fingers?”
“One at first, then two.”
His hands roamed lower, gripping the insides of her thighs, spreading them so each leg rested on the arms of the chair. She could smell her arousal waft up into the air, making her dizzy. “Did he spread his fingers, opening your pussy?”
“No,” she breathed, willing fingers that coasted along the seams of her thighs so close to their apex to touch it.
“Did he play with your clit?”
“No.” God, she wanted him to. Needed him to. Right now. Please.
“Were you wet?”
“No.”
His hands stilled. She squirmed, grinding her ass against his cock, silently begging him not to stop. But his hands lay limp between her legs. “Didn’t he notice?” He sounded baffled.
She frowned. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t think so.”
Peter growled, sounding delightfully grumpy. His hands were back, spreading her forcefully wider. She groaned at the strained stretch of muscles, her hands clutching the chair’s arms as her hips jerked up into his hands. “You’re wet now,” he said, rather unnecessarily—or so she thought, since she could hardly deny it with her legs splayed and her aroused state unmistakably displayed.
“Yes,” she said, pushing more firmly against him again. “Yes, I’m wet. So very, very wet. Please, please, touch me.”
“Touch you?” he murmured, raking his nails along the sensitive skin of her thighs and making her moan as she arched her back, her hips rising, urging him on. “Like this?”
God, yes.
“Like this?” he said as he bent his head and bit her hard on her shoulder before licking away the small hurt.
“Yes, Peter.” Yes.
“Two fingers?” he said off-handedly, sliding one finger up her cleft.
She hardly had time to shiver in response before he thrust three fingers deep and fast into her up to their hilt. It was such a shock.
And, yes, it did hurt.
Not used to being so stretched—particularly so quickly and without warning—her body immediately struggled against the invasion. “Breathe, Katherina,” he ordered, his hand stilled inside of her, pushing against her bucked hips, holding her to him. “Deep breaths. In then out,” he told her, his soothing voice setting a rhythm for her. “Convert the pain into pleasure. Allow your body time to flood you with endorphins.”
“I don’t know how,” she said, her voice panting and wavering with pain.
“Just breathe, baby,” he told her, his other hand caressing the side of her face, holding her tight against his chest. “Breathe for me.”
Kat, choked back her tears and forced her breath between her clenched teeth while he pulled his fingers out only to shove them back in, repeating this in time to her breathing. After a few long moments of this, quite inexplicably, she began to feel the pressure become pleasure as her body rode the growing waves of sensation.
“You’re coming,” he growled, his voice a rumble in his chest, “aren’t you?” She panted, biting her lip, as he thrust harder, faster. “Aren’t you?”
She flushed, turning her head, embarrassed. “Yes,” she admitted. God, she was so easy. Some of the men she’d been with in the past had laughed at her for it. Poked fun—you know, in that playful, joking way. Told her that she came so easily.
Too easily.
And then, after that—for some reason—she hadn’t been able to come at all with them.
“Not many women can come from this, you know?” Peter told her. “From just my fingers in their cunt.”
She knew. She tensed, feeling unease creep inside her. Her legs tightened, squeezing shut instinctively.
“God, Katherina,” he moaned, nuzzling her neck, “you’re so responsive.” Then he bit her, quick and sharp, making her squeal. Her body jerked, somehow freeing her from her tension, from the awkward unease. Bringing her mind back to the pleasure he was giving her with a sigh and a smile. “Amazing.”
Yes, amazing.
Her hips began to buck again, but this time thrusting into his hands instead of away. “Please, Peter,” she murmured, feeling her climax coming close again.
“Not yet,” he told her, splaying a steadying hand across her belly. “Do not come, Katherina.”
“I want to,” she whined. “I have to.” She pumped her hips. “I can’t stop.”
“You will stop,” he said, reaching into her robe to pinch her nipple hard, making her cry out in as much pain as joy. He latched onto the straining tip, squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger without relief. “Hold it back and breathe.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered, trying. Trying and failing. She felt her body grip his fingers. “I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” he told her, digging his nails now into her nipple. She cried out at the bite, her pussy pulsing again. “Clench your vaginal muscles. Focus all your energy there. Clear your entire mind of everything but controlling your cunt. Do not come, Katherina, or you will be punished.”
Kat closed her eyes and did as he asked. She pushed her mind lower, lower, and lower still, until she became absolutely full with all the riotous sensations centered in her hot, throbbing core. She could feel with exquisite exactness each push and pull of his fingers. She held herself rigid beneath his touch, holding onto the pleasure licking her entire body with sweet fiery swells.
“Good girl,” she heard him say as he let go of her now burning nipple, stroking it gently now, soothing away the pain. “Now keep it there. Stay there.”
He took his other hand from her breast and brought it down between her legs to play with her clitoris. The pleasure—so intense—made her mind slip for a second, forcing her to bite down hard on her lip and fist her fingers, scoring her palms with her nails. “Peter, please,” she begged, knowing she couldn’t hold back much longer. “Please.”
“Tell me what you want,” he grunted through gritted teeth.
“I want to come,” she pleaded, her eyes tearing with the effort. “Please, Peter, let me come.”
Removing his hand from her clit, his fingers still wet from her juices, he cupped her chin, turning her head to him. “Then come, Kat,” he ground out. “Come for me.” He pulled her face to his, closing his lips over hers before thrusting his tongue into her mouth in rhythm with the deep, long thrusts he delivered below.
She cried her pleasure into his open mouth as her body shook and writhed with overwhelming pleasure around his deliciously deviant fingers...
To read the rest, please check out my novel from Sizzler Editions "The Taming School."
SAF 25 SUB VIRGIN
That was all Kat Valdez had written in her online ad. It was all she’d had to write. Really, if that didn’t get people’s attention, she didn’t know what would. Tired of feeling like a spinster waiting to shed this staining status, Kat logs onto a BDSM forum to look for a way to lose her virginity.
Moderator of the forum, Peter Richards, knows that sex isn’t limited to just one act. That sensuality isn’t straight-up sex, that weakness isn’t submission, and innocence is not virginity. And, before he finishes with Kat, he’s determined that she’ll know that too. He'll make sure that she doesn't dismiss or discount herself anymore. Before they’re done, he will teach her to understand and love the full breadth of her virginity.
The more they explore kink and play together, Peter discovers something different—something special—stirring within himself. As he touches Kat in every possible way he can, her indomitable spirit touches back. During their time together, he can see her changing. Growing. Under his tutelage, he can see her becoming the stronger, more confident woman he knows she can be. The woman he hungers for.
And, for the first time in his life, Peter knows that this time he wants to play for keeps.
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