Lessons for Laura (3 page)

“Take her to the edge and then stop” was my plan. I wanted
to show her the feeling and emotions that resulted from fucking with someone in
that way.

My head was pushed downward, forcing my jaw open to take in
as much as I could. The tip caressed the back of my throat. My hand was wrapped
around the remaining base near her moist hot vapor, so I could control the
motion better and rub the soft hot member into her clit.

Pleasure washed through me as I took in her flavor. The hot
flush from my mouth dripped over my hand and down onto her. Her own composure
was lost as she thrust deeper and deeper into my mouth; pulling my head forward
over and over again with no regard to the intensity, she penetrated me. I
gagged until I could relax my throat and take everything she demanded.

I choked on her hard physical orgasm. She quivered, and then
pulled me off her by my hair.

My lips swelled as the blood rushed back to them; the
corners of my mouth burned from having stretched so far. The slight taste of my
own blood mixed with her flavor excited me, while the disappointment in my
failure to punish her lingered. Would she leave me like this again?

Patiently I watched: her face damp, her hands fallen to her
sides, her sudden realization I was watching her.

She sat forward quickly, taking the back of my head in her
hand and pulling me in to a deep passionate kiss. I felt her in the very
recesses of my mind. Probing and tasting. My senses returned only momentarily
as she lowered me onto her stiff cock.

There was the sound she deserved as she penetrated every
part of me, body and soul, in that single stroke. Her control over my deepest
need swirled into a mixture of insane pleasure. She raised and lowered me at
her whim, and then one last lunge brought us to equal ground. I tightened
around her, holding on until my contractions forced her and the last of my
ejaculation out together. She laid me back gently and then sat forward to get a
better look at the new embellishment on her Harley.

 I felt her get off the bike and watched her walk to the
edge of the lookout. I followed and snuggled in behind her to block the strong
wind whipping up the dunes. We stood there silently.

I’m still not sure what lessons I am learning, but the
classes are getting better.

~~~3~~~

My training continued over the next few weeks. I was
starting to get comfortable with her demands on both my time and my body. The
emotional relationship had shifted from my expectations to hers. I was often
confused by my acceptance of her complete control over me. I waited for her to
call, and I waited for her to arrive, and I waited for her to satisfy me
physically.

The requirements of my training to that point had been
private. Even when she primed me in public, somehow it remained very private. I
was learning quickly what it took to please her—and that pleasing her almost
always satisfied me, whether physically or emotionally.

The front door had only been unlocked a minute when a
courier walked in. He carried a long black garment bag and an envelope.

“Ms. Harrington?” he asked as he stopped at the counter.

“Yes.”

“I have a delivery for you, and a letter you were requested
to read prior to accepting the package.”

I looked at the envelope he extended to me. This had to be
from her. She loved the build-up and provided just the perfect amount of
temptation to lure me into to almost anything. The card inside the envelope had
been handwritten by her:

My dearest Laura,

I will pick you up this evening at 9:00 sharp. You are to
be dressed in
nothing but the contents of this bag. Do not open the bag
until you are ready to dress, and no earlier than 8:45. By accepting this invitation,
you accept the next phase of your training.

Nothing but the contents of the bag
was her
instruction. The heavy black garment bag hung on the back of my bedroom door
all day. The commitment had already been made, and my choice to comply was
getting easier each time she made some mysterious request of me. I wanted so
badly to look, so badly to know what she had chosen for me.

There was no way I was going there again.

Lesson Three

Looking at myself in the mirror in the “dress” she had sent
me struck a chord of panic in me. I was expected to go out in public wearing
nothing
but this?

I don’t think so!

The buzzer rang and I put on my short pink terry robe. I
bent down from the landing to look, knowing it was her—right on time every
time. Her silhouette stretched across the floor from the bright streetlamp
behind her. I pressed the button to let her in.  From the bottom of the stairs
she looked up at me.

“Drop the robe and come down here, Laura.” She waited. Her
eyes scanned me as I stood there motionless. I knew I had agreed by accepting
the gift, but there was no way I was going anywhere like this.

“Laura!”

My robe fell behind me on the landing at the very pitch of
her voice. Tailored and snug, the garment concealed nothing. It was made of an
intricate pattern of delicate linked silver chains. The front halter draped
around my neck and fell open between my breasts. It gathered just under my
belly button, where all the ends intersected and then split open again to the
floor. The back draped low, just above my ass, and dragged across to the floor
heavily behind me.

My nipples poked through, and every inch of my discretion
was completely exposed.

She held her hand out as I slowly approached. “Are you
ready?”

“No.” I turned to head back up. “I am not… ”

“Laura.” Her tone stopped me in my tracks.

I turned slowly, knowing that if there was an uncomfortable
situation, she would force me into it, in spite of my obvious objections. In
the long run, the more I objected, the longer I suffered. Her satisfaction point
was far beyond my pain point.

I obeyed… for the most part.

She held her hand out again, and I reluctantly took it. She backed
up to allow me to step down.  She took me close in her arms and whispered, “You
look beautiful.”

“I cannot go out like this. I will wear anything else,
please…”  My face buried in her embrace and my voice barely hid the tears I
choked back.

She released the hold and moved to my side. “You’ll be
fine.” She placed her firm hand on my bare back to persuade me along.

“No, I can’t…” I stopped just before the door.

She stepped back in front of me. “Do you trust me, Laura?”

“Yes, but… ”

“If you trust me, then you know I will never do anything to
harm you, right?”

“Yes.” My unenthusiastic agreement caused her to lift my
chin so that I was forced to look into her eyes. That was always the beginning
of the end for me: Her gaze could speak volumes, and my resolve melted into it
involuntarily.

“We are going out.” She stepped back and held the door open
for me to pass through on my own.

Her car, thank goodness, was parked at the curb. I focused
on the few steps between where I was and where I needed to be next. My heart
pounded, and I hoped the sidewalk was empty. I took a deep breath, and then the
first step, and then made it to the car.

She closed the car door and I was captive once again.

As she pulled out, I wiggled from the discomfort of the
chains pressed between my ass and the seat.

“Not a good dress for sitting,” I mumbled.

“Good thing you won’t be sitting then,” she replied, never
diverting her attention from the road.

“Where are we going?” My discomfort in the situation was
verbalized in my tone.

She pressed her finger to my lips. “Practice your restraint.
You’ll need it tonight.”

My panic grew as I thought of all the places I could end up.
I was essentially naked. “Please tell me where we’re going.”

“Laura, stop. Have you forgotten everything?” Her look cast
the final allowance I was permitted.

I looked out my window, silent and brooding, as she
navigated the dark winding road to our destination. My mind swirled with plans
to find a way out of my inevitable humiliation.

She turned off the road between two large pillars. A large
ornate gate opened and we continued up a long narrow drive to a private estate
hidden just off the highway. We circled a beautiful fountain and pulled up to
the entrance.

There was no escape as she escorted me from the vehicle. The
valet drove away leaving us alone. She took my shaking hand and placed it on
her forearm and patted gently for reassurance.

“Hold your chin up and walk with confidence. Do not
embarrass me here, Laura.”  We walked up the exterior stairs of weathered
cobblestones, and she led me through a massive arched doorway.

The crowded foyer presented my first spectators. I held to
her tight, trying to hide my face from passing glances. We stood on the balcony
looking down on a very large room full of people. I gripped her tighter and she
stepped back and turned, taking me with her. We descended another wide sweeping
staircase into the crowded party. The lurking eyes ran deep, and my raw nerve
was nearly overpowered by my instinct to run.

A path parted for us as we moved to what felt like a
destination. My eyes scanned the room, assessing the climate and its guests. I
was sure I had never been to a party quite like this. It was easy to identify
the submissives: Many of them were barely clad or completely nude, without even
the concealment I was allowed. I pulled in close to her when she stopped,
pressing my shame against her.

She removed my hand from her arm and placed it down by my
side. She looked into my eyes. “This is your pedestal, Laura.”

There was a marble cube in front of me, and a naked woman
stood beside it with a small folding step stool. It was placed on the floor.
The young woman tucked her hands in the small of her back and bowed her head,
waiting.

I understood the request; however, the motion required to
act on it didn’t come. I felt paralyzed. She held her hand out palm up to
assist me. “I can’t do this… I can’t let all these people look at… ”

She moved in close to whisper in my ear.

“You will stand here perfectly still and calm until I come
back for you.” She squeezed my hand hard to emphasize her words. “Now step up.”

Unable to move in any direction, I stood consumed by the
swirl of twisted emotions. I shivered as she physically moved me to the first
step.

“Now is not the time to challenge me, Laura.” Her hiss in my
ear encouraged me to the next step. As I reached the top, I felt as if the
ground had been pulled from under me and the small surface beneath my feet was
an island on which I was now stranded. The weight of the heavy chain dress
pulled as it draped off the block behind me, like an anchor to hold me there. The
stool was removed and disappeared in the crowd mingling close.

A loving little squeeze of my hand still in hers drew my
undivided attention down to her face. “Do not speak or make eye contact. Stand
perfectly still, no matter what, and do not disappoint me.”

She slipped out of my blurry vision as a hot tear rolled
down my cheek. The thick sea of faces below me faded into my panic. I felt like
I was going to fall; my head floated and the room spun around me. I found my
center and my focal point: a painting on the far wall of a woman from many
centuries ago in very much the same position I found myself in. She became my strength.
I tried to calm myself by first controlling my breathing. When I was aware of
the rise and fall of my own chest, my eyes opened to stop the spin. I checked
my posture and resolved myself to the shame. The rumble of their voices started
to clear.

“Exquisite and beautiful. Long sexy lines.”

They circled and studied me as if unaware I could both see
and hear them.

I stood there on display and awash with humiliation for my
exposure, mixed now with a twinge of pride.

The whispers behind me were the hardest to take. They
discussed the shape and curve of my ass.

“I prefer a plumper bottom—paddles nicer.”

“No, this one is quite nice, and knowing who she belongs to,
I’m sure it takes the paddle very well.”

I wanted to scream,
I don’t belong to anyone!
Yet I
stood there in front of complete strangers, exposing everything, because she had
told me to. My body trembled from the inside. I was sure it showed. A slow deep
breath in; then I let it go. My eyes were glued to the woman in the portrait.
My body rebelled against the stillness and twitched in disobedience. Trying
desperately to ignore my anguish, I fought movement and the urge to scratch the
rambling itch that persisted to test me.

Perfectly still. Do not disappoint.
Her words echoed
in my head. I tuned the spectators’ comments out by concentrating on the face
in the portrait. I tried to read the slight twist of her lips. She wore
nothing, yet she modeled proudly for that portrait of femininity.

Would I ever know her contentment with her body?

I shifted my eyes to sneak a look as far as I could see
without turning my head. I was not the only one on display in this strange gallery.
Other women stood on platforms like mine.

Was this Humility 101?

I felt a firm pinch on my ass. “Yes, it’s tighter than it
looks.”

Without thinking I whipped my head around, and just before
my mouth exploded, I caught her attention from across the room. She projected
her displeasure in a single stern look, and I turned back to my focal point and
worked hard to steady my posture.

Time crept. I found it harder to keep my body still. Cramps
in my legs caused me to shift from side to side. Squeals of pain and moans of
pleasure permeated the ballroom. I stood in fear of my inclusion and pity of my
exclusion.