The Art of Submissive Survival - Book Two in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (7 page)

The man moaned, and still suffering from the withdrawal of the unexpected stimulation he’d been receiving, replied meekly, ‘whatever you say, Mrs Peters.’

Hesitating, the manageress remembered her position, and with a brittle voice said, ‘However, you are the customer, if you which Miss Sanders to continue with her
unusual
approach to chastisement, I shall not stop her.’

David stood, brushing his dusty hands together, his face still crimson from where blood had rushed to his head ‘No, I agreed to help in this child’s instruction, so if you wish a more punishment-based lesson, then perhaps we should tell her more about what we expect of her.’

Jess hardly dared breathe; she’d never heard anyone talk to Mrs Peters like that before, let alone question her decisions, but she simply smiled. It was not a nice smile. ‘You are quite correct, David. It seems that Jess needs no assistance in following her instincts to pleasure a man, but punishment and instruction – well, there’s room for improvement there, I think.’

‘Quite so, Mrs Peters.’ The client’s eyes roamed across the girl, shining with the greed he’d previously kept under wraps . ‘Is she wearing the device as requested?’

‘She is.’

‘Well then, I think we’ll overlook this interlude and carry on as planned.’ David and Mrs Peters exchanged knowing looks.

The mistress inclined her head thoughtfully, ‘I concede that I should have perhaps informed Miss Sanders a bit more about what to do, but I was curious to see what she would do without that guidance.’

‘I can understand that.’

Continuing as though Jess wasn’t in the room, Mrs Peters said, ‘I confess I was concerned that Miss Sanders would get a taste for correction, and I’d lose her submissive skills. You have helped put my mind at rest. Thank you, David.’

Nausea built in Jess’s throat as she listened, forcing her to swallow.

‘Right.’ Mrs Peters clapped her hands together. ‘Let’s get on with this, Miss Sanders. The session should have progressed with you smacking Mr Proctor until he begged you to stop. Then, he would have turned the tables on you; reverting you to your usual more submissive role. I can’t tell you how, as that is his decision and he changes the session a little each time. I think that is a simple enough premise – even for you.’

Jess’s hackles rose, but she bit back the uncharacteristic retort that was building within her. If Mrs Peters was trying to make her angry by suggesting she was not only a toy, but was stupid as well, then it was working, but she’d be damned if she’d give her the satisfaction of letting her know she was getting to her.

‘An additional penalty may be required.’ Mr Proctor sounded hopeful as he spoke.

‘Well, I did promise I’d make this training session worth your while,’ Mrs Peters replied solemnly. ‘And how else is she going to learn?’

I really am just a thing. A toy; something to play with and then put back in my office type box until they want to amuse themselves again.
It was a sobering thought, and one that, now it had arrived Jess couldn’t shift as she was bodily repositioned behind a crouching David, the paddle pushed back into her hand.

Swinging the weapon back, her brain continued to race, making her deaf to her target’s cries.
You are nothing here.
SMACK.
They will use you up.
SMACK. Jess didn’t register David when he asked her to stop. She kept on hitting him, again and again as a more frightening inner voice added,
You like it!
SMACK.
You need it!
SMACK.
Lee was right ...

The orders from David for her to stop, had morphed into pleading and begging, and finally they sank into her consciousness.

Jess lowered her arm, aware that she was exhausted. No one moved. Jess couldn’t believe how soundly she’d been spanking the smarting arse that virtually shone before her. David had sunk to the ground, his arms collapsed beneath him. The clerk kept expecting Mrs Peters’ disapproval to boom around the room, but no one spoke.

Her eyes glued to her feet, Jess waited, terrified of what might happen next, yet impatient for it to begin, more aware than ever of the insistent pressure of the chastity belt.

It was the slight movement of David’s feet that unfroze the moment. With a guttural groan he eased himself upwards, swaying a little as he stood. ‘Look at me.’

Jess’s blood froze in her veins, as she met the client’s gaze.

‘No … one …’ he paced his words slowly as if he was still struggling for control of his breath, ‘…has ever treated me in that way. No one
ever
disobeys my requests.’

‘I ... I’m sorry.’

‘You will be.’ David turned to Mrs Peters, a barely suppressed anger bubbling in his words, ‘You were worried she’d get a taste for correction. Well I don’t think you can relax on that front yet, but if a hefty punishment always follows her slips into acts of dominance, perhaps her taste for a more assertive role can be quashed. As you’re here, I wonder if you’d oblige me.’

‘Certainly.’ It was the first word Mrs Peters had uttered since Jess had finished using the paddle and Jess was glad she couldn’t see the expression that went with her tone.

David took a step nearer to Jess, ‘While I consider how to proceed, I wonder if you would remove that awful suit from her, and then increase the effect of the belt.’

‘Of course.’

Still unwilling to face her boss, Jess closed her eyes against the latest humiliation, as she continued to try and stop the voices in her head telling her this is what she actually wanted. Standing limp as Mrs Peters ripped the clothes from her, the clerk stiffened as a rough probing finger jabbed its way beneath the sheepskin band.

‘Just as I suspected! The girl has no self-control. This strap is soaked through.’

A cruel gleam came to the client’s eyes. ‘I suggest an insert.’

His words made Jess’s eyes spring back open.
What sort of insert?

‘Open your eyes!’ Mrs Peters held a small, perfectly polished, wooden dildo in the palm of her hand. ‘You will bend your knees and crouch down.’

Jess moved reluctantly, the constricting of her lower body increasing the tension that rippled across her pussy. Once positioned, the manageress ordered her to stay exactly where she was.

For the first time Jess was glad of all the training Miss Sarah had been giving her during her enforced exercise classes at keeping still and holding uncomfortable positions for long periods of time.

Manhandling Jess’s crotch, Mrs Peters loosened the strap and then, without ceremony, pushed the dildo up inside her, making her yelp as it filled her cramped channel to the hilt, and remained trapped there, hard and unyielding, by the strap.

‘Fasten that belt extra tight, Mrs Peters.’ David was now sufficiently recovered to prowl around as Mrs Peters yanked at the belt until it dug into Jess’s stomach, and the dildo was pushed in even deeper.

Her knees were beginning to tremble as Jess waited, too scared to move now that the wood was firmly inside her.

‘Why so worried?’ Mrs Peters taunted as she rose to her feet, ‘I’m sure you wanted to have something in that hot little pussy, and now you have. Some gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.’

Through gritted teeth, Jess said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Peters.’

‘That’s better. Honestly, if you can’t mange basic politeness then there’s no way you’ll progress with us. You won’t meet my guest and you certainly won’t discover what’s behind the door to Room 54. Now, over to you, David.’

Jess watched him with morbid fascination, as the dildo shifted slightly within her, pussy juice escaping from the sponge of the strap.

‘Stand up and approach.’

Jess moved awkwardly, clumsy with the solid shaft within her.

‘I would like you to lie here.’

For a second Jess felt as though her heart had stopped beating as he pointed towards the rack, but then realised he was gesturing to a thin bench just behind it. Unsure if it would be wide enough to support her, but not wanting to provoke any more anger, Jess obeyed.

Her head rested on the hard surface, but it was so narrow her shoulders and hips protruded over the edge, and it was very difficult not to let her legs drop over either side of the bench. That problem was quickly solved however, when David told her to put her feet on the floor, which forced her into a position where her belt dug deeper into her flesh and the dildo stretched her channel further.

Unsure what do to with her arms, she crossed them over her chest, only to have them irritably knocked away. ‘I want to see those tits, girl. Give me your wrists.’ David took both arms in one hand and placed them over and above her head, pulling one to each side of the bench tying them to the legs with a scratchy piece of rope, leaving Jess vulnerable, stretched, and helpless. She might as well have been put on the rack after all.

‘Very pretty don’t you think, Mrs Peters?’

‘Indeed. I was only saying to Miss Sarah the other day how much potential she has, and if Miss Sanders has any sense at all, she won’t allow herself to come until she is given permission to do so.’

You see, you’re just a toy
. Jess tried to block out her thoughts, concentrating instead on not climaxing around the insistent presence of the chastity belt and plug.

David swung a leg over the bench and stood astride Jess. The intoxicating aroma of sex hung around his cock. It was unbelievably tight and flecks of precome were dotted at its head. Then, David sat on Jess’s stomach, winding her, his backside adding extra pressure to her already desperate cunt, her clit contracting against the strap.

She’d guessed what was about happen a second before it did. As his cock was guided into her dry mouth, and his hands began an all out assault against her breasts, she forced herself to calm her breath.

As his fingers tweaked her nipples urgently, he raised his legs slightly and pushed his groin forward, making Jess open her throat wider so she didn’t choke against him. He moved faster and faster, and Jess had to battle to relax enough not to gag.

Every time David rocked forward his legs pressed harder to Jess’s sides, the wooden dick juddered within her, and the strap sent shockwaves of insistent pleasure through her snatch.

Unable to move, her body drenched in sweat, her red hair plastered to her head, Jess could feel David was reaching his own limits, and with a final shove forwards, he pinched her nipples with brutal fingers, causing her to scream out against the spunk that shot into her mouth.

It was too much. How was anyone supposed to withstand so much physical attention and not come? Jess tried to rein in the climax she felt rip through her, but it was pointless, and despite David’s weight as he crashed back against her torso, her back arched and her legs and arms shook, the rope cutting into her wrists as she bellowed out her body-wracking defeat.

Chapter Seven

They had been waiting for her to fail. The proof of that had been all too obvious in the sickeningly satisfied way both Mrs Peters and Mr Proctor swiftly cut her arms free and, with trickles of sperm still running from the corners of her mouth, had yanked her upright so fast her head spun.

Seconds later Jess had found herself achingly empty as the wooden dildo was removed and the sodden sheepskin strap was replaced with a dry one, keeping up the pressure on her soaking snatch.

It was very quiet now. Jess wasn’t sure how long it had been since anyone had touched her, but guessed it was a good half an hour. David had left with regretful comments about having to return to work and missing the penalty the clerk would have to endure for coming without permission. The manageress, however, had been quick to reassure him that she would film the proceedings so he could watch at a later date.

Jess knew Mrs Peters was still in the room, but although she occasionally heard her moving around behind her, the thick padded strap that held her neck in place prohibited her from turning her head.

The neck strap was her only restraint, but it was all that was needed to keep Jess firmly tethered to a wooden post she’d previously assumed was part of the medieval scenery, but now realised was a crude attempt at a pillory. Shifting her bare feet against the dusty floor sent fresh waves of longing through her tormented pussy, her forbidden orgasm long forgotten by her hungry body. She had cried for a while, but all that had achieved was to release some of the tension of the previous session, and now she could feel stiff streaks across her cheeks where the tears had dried.

She was terribly thirsty, but a more pressing need was concerning her. Her bladder was incredibly full, but Jess didn’t dare ask for permission to use the bathroom. She tried to contract her stomach to stop any urine leaking from her; not wanting to consider what might happen if she wet herself.

Her eyelids were almost as heavy as her bladder, and Jess had to fight to keep her eyes open, fearful that if she drifted into even a gentle doze, her body would relax and her bladder would empty of its own accord.

Footsteps told Jess that Mrs Peters was approaching at last. Facing her trainee, she held a large glass of water and a drinking straw. Jess tried and failed to shake her head within the confines of her restraint. There was no way she could risk drinking anything without disgracing herself.

Pointedly ignoring the clerk’s blatant distress, Mrs Peters placed the straw in the glass and brought it to the girl’s lips. ‘You must be very thirsty by now, Miss Sanders.’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘But you must keep up your fluids, I’m sure Miss Sarah has told you as much during your exercise sessions.’

Struggling not to start crying, or even to beg her boss to take the glass away, Jess said, ‘Really, I’m fine, thank you.’

‘And yet you will drink.’ Mrs Peters grabbed Jess’s chin, pulled her jaw down and shoved the straw between the newly parted lips. ‘You will drink it all.’

‘I can’t I’ll ...’

‘You can and you will.’

Jess took a tiny reluctant suck, and felt the wonderfully fresh water glide down her sandpaper dry throat.

‘More.’

The conflict between Jess’s desire to drink, and her bladder’s incapability of holding more liquid was driving Jess mad. With Mrs Peters standing over her, however, she had no choice. Taking the glass in her trembling hands, she gulped down the chilled water before pushing the empty cup back at Mrs Peters, who walked away. Clenching every muscle in her body, and clamping her eyes shut, Jess was determined not to humiliate herself until the last possible moment.

Again she could hear Mrs Peters moving behind her, and then, suddenly her eyes flew open and a squeal of pain shot from her lips. Her right breast had been struck with a short black cane.

The mistress changed her attention to the left nipple, and with precision accuracy brought the weapon down, sending new streaks of agony through the clerk. Tensing her pelvic floor as much as humanly possible, Jess became more aware than ever of the sweat-sodden sheepskin between her legs.

Sensing victory, Mrs Peters began to alternate the agonising strikes with greater speed.

As each burning hit struck her, Jess felt both her control slipping away, and the chastity strap becoming more of an irritant then ever. On the sixth strike, her nipples soaring with pain, Jess screamed and her body went limp, all the fight knocked out of her in one go.

With a speed born of practice, Mrs Peters released the belt, making Jess yelp as the strap came away, its Velcro like pressure making her feel as if she was having a plaster ripped from her pussy. The restraints were also swiftly removed, and half carrying, half dragging the clerk, the manageress pushed Jess into the discreetly hidden washroom at the back of the dungeon.

Ten minutes later, her legs weak, her breath shallow, Jess re-emerged into Room 50. She was desperate to sink to the floor, to rest her wobbling legs, but she managed to stay upright. Convinced that her hasty removal to the bathroom had signalled failure, Jess’s mind leapt ahead to what horrors Mrs Peters might punish her with next.

An unreadable expression met her gaze when she finally risked a glance at her boss. The cane was still firmly in her fist, but she appeared more satisfied than angry, a fact that only served to confuse Jess further.

Carefully placing the cane to one side, Mrs Peters steered her bemused clerk to a chair, sat her down, and widened her legs. Instantly Jess stiffened. She felt extremely sore and exhausted, and there was no way she could take any extra stimulation.

‘Not to worry, child.’ Mrs Peters tone was strangely soft, as a hand soothed the raw skin at the top of Jess’s thigh. ‘This will help, I promise.’

A tongue began to lap away the mixture of liquids around Jess’s channel, and a gentle hand stroked her chest, avoiding the tender tips where, only moments before, the same hand had inflicted such pain.

Sighing, Jess slouched a little further back, sliding closer to the expert tongue, which began to move faster, lighting her flesh, and charging her with a new energy. Her hands came up automatically, trailing through Mrs Peters’ hair, and down her shoulders. As a finger found Jess’s hole, and the tonguing increased, she cried out, her body jacking against the wood. With her fingers still tangled in her boss’s hair, Jess sank back, more sated than she’d ever been.

She could have slept then and there, but was aware of Mrs Peters’ voice, coming as if from far away, and forced herself to remain vaguely conscious. At some point Lee must have arrived, for he was carrying her, and placing her on a wonderfully soft bed. Mrs Peters was telling her she’d performed well and although still needed instruction, would be meeting one of her special guest soon. Jess, however, wasn’t sure if these congratulations were real or a dream, for she was already asleep.

Sam watched as the black cab pulled up outside his studio window. One of his neighbours had probably been shopping. Continuing to stare he saw a young man he vaguely recognised leave the car and head towards the main door of the apartment block, but Sam was still surprised when it was his intercom that buzzed.

‘Mr Wheeler?’

‘Yes?’

‘I have a car waiting for you, sir.’

‘Why? I’m not going anywhere?’

‘I have my instructions, Mr Wheeler. You are to accompany me to the Fables Hotel.’

Sam took a hasty step back from the intercom. She’d sent a cab for him. A strange mixture of ego-fuelled self-satisfaction and uncertainty filled him as he glanced back out of the window at the figure below. He recognised him now. It was the barman and receptionist from the hotel. Laura Peters obviously didn’t do the dirty work herself – well, apart from ... Sam tried hard to ignore the stirrings of his groin.

‘Mr Wheeler?’ A questioning voice crackled through the buzzer.

Coming to a split second decision, Sam said, ‘Tell Mrs Peters that I thank her for the car, but am unable to accompany you for the moment as I have work to do. Perhaps she’d like to telephone me to arrange a more mutually convenient time?’

Sam wasn’t sure how the emissary would respond to this, but he was convinced he shouldn’t do what Laura wanted straight away, even though his dick was screaming at his brain to get to her as soon as possible.

‘I have instructions to wait until it is convenient for you, sir.’

Sam sighed as static crackled over the intercom, ‘And I imagine you are too sensible to disobey Mrs Peters’ orders?’

‘Yes, sir. I will await your company in the car.’

‘But I could be hours, and it’s already getting late.’

‘Even so, I will wait.’

The artist glanced around the room, his gaze falling on his desk. It was clear. He’d finished the project he’d been working on an hour ago. Now he was trapped. Either he remained in the flat and pretended to work for a while, or he actually worked and made a start on his next project, or he gave in and went with Lee straight away. Hobson’s choice.

If he stayed put Sam knew he’d simply pace the floor, his fantasies getting more and more lurid by the second. If he started a new work project, his concentration would be shot to pieces and he’d mess it up, and if he left now Laura would have won. Sam began to make coffee, his hands working independently from his brain, which was very much focused at cock level.

An hour. He’d make the car wait an hour, maybe even two. How long should you make a dominatrix wait to show her you are definitely NOT her slave, but at the same time let her know you want to fuck her again, but not be punished for that desire? Two weeks ago even deliberating such a question would have felt absurd. Now it was a very real, albeit rather dangerous, dilemma.

Keeping out of sight of the window, Sam sipped the black liquid, not noticing that it was scalding. He thought again about what Laura had said, about him being her slave, about how the next time they met the rules would be stricter.
Surely she hadn’t meant that? How could they be any stricter anyway?

His coffee mug was empty, although Sam didn’t actually remember drinking it.
This is ridiculous, who am I kidding?
He grabbed his overnight bag from its hiding place beneath the desk, took it into his bedroom, and stuffed enough inside to last for two nights away. After that, he’d have had enough of her, and he’d come home.

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