Office Dream-01

by Karen Cypher

One I have posted, retracted, posted again, and then put on the shelf for good. As it turns out, I have dusted some of my older stories off. I took another look at this one, and decided it could make for a nice series. Hope the first installment is what I want!

Heather is not like me. I've known her for almost three years now. Because I am older and a little farther up the chain, we display the usual professional woman rivalries toward each other, but there is just something different about her.

She is a woman who can sort of exemplify the female sex-goddess stereotype. She is 32, the mother of one girl, and has the kind of body that comes from... well, not so much from playing sports, as it does from staying active. She doesn't spend a lot of time in the fitness center, at least not from what I could gather, but she's tall and strikingly beautiful. Not in an ugly pile of thin-railed hips, skinny butt, and built-up muscles, but working out has made her genetic make-up even better. She is curvaceous and feminine in every way that counts. Her breasts are perfect, and wonder of wonders; they are natural and full despite her athletic frame. Her legs are long and luscious, and she is not afraid to show them off under the short skirts she has recently started to wear. Her Italian ancestry is visible in her dusky complexion, dark eyes and thick, wavy black hair. She is quick with a smile that can melt even the hardest of hearts. But I didn't really notice her looks once we became friends. Heather exudes a style and confidence that can only be described as... well, stylish and confident.

Who am I kidding? I always notice her looks. She is so beautiful... so sexy... always. I hate her.

More important than being the recurring star of my office sex fantasies, Heather is a good friend. I can count on her to lend a sympathetic ear when I have a problem, and I often do the same for her. We spend a lot of time talking about our boyfriends, relationships, or usually the lack thereof. She did not bat an eye when I told her I was bisexual, and she let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not. That didn't stop me from trying, mind you. After several early and thinly veiled attempts to test the waters (usually after several glasses of wine), I gave up and just enjoyed what I could from this wonderful woman.

As co-workers, we often find ourselves at odds on some aspect of a project. We have to work together pretty closely, so getting along is a definite plus, but there are times when I get so mad at her that I could scream. We always seem to resolve our differences, and don't hold grudges against the other for being wrong. At other times, I'll go see her to ask a question, only to find that she's in a silly mood, and we'll spend the next ten minutes laughing over some ridiculous sequence of jokes.

Overall, we work together pretty well.

It was a bit of a surprise when Heather came into my office one Friday afternoon looking nervous. I figured it was personal, rather than work-related. She is always a little bit shy when it comes to discussing personal issues.

"Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?" Heather said hesitantly. "I need to talk to you." I wasn't sure whether it was just my imagination, but she seemed to be blushing. It was hard to tell. I didn't really have much planned for the evening, so I didn't keep her in suspense and it wasn't long before I accepted.

She had made dinner reservations at a local Italian place. The tables were all separated from each other by high walls, so it was a great place for private conversations. The fact that they had great food was a nice bonus. I ordered a decadent seafood-pasta combo and Heather had a salad.

We made small talk through the appetizer and well into dinner. Heather seemed to be pretty nervous about something, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what was bothering her. As far as I knew, she didn't have a current boyfriend, and she didn't usually take this long to get to what was bothering her if it wasn't a relationship problem. I knew her daughter had been giving her no end of grief, but what 15 year-old doesn't push boundaries? I thought she and Jessica were getting along pretty well, but we hadn't had a 'talk' in a while, so I might be mistaken. I knew better that to throw out random guesses, and I wasn't about to push her into telling.

No, there was nothing to do except wait it out. She'd get there eventually.

In the course of the conversation, we started discussing blog sites, social networking sites, and the better-known dating sites. It even got to the point where we discussed erotic story sites.

Although I was open and free with Heather about my sexuality, we had never gone down the road of what truly turns me on. She was curious and seemed interested when the subject came up in the rare conversation, but it was too personal for me to share with just anyone... even Heather. My 'freak' can be pretty freaky, and I don't ever want to push someone away because of it.

"I uhh... you umm..." She paused, took a drink of her wine to give herself some time, and damn near drained half the glass. She moved some chocolaty confection of a dessert around with her fork and stared at her plate.

Here it comes, I thought.

"You like to dominate other women, don't you?" she asked in a rushed whisper.

By the way I choked on my own glass of wine and had it come up through my nose, it was obvious she had hit a nerve. I consider myself to be fast on my feet, but my mind was completely blank.

It could have had something to do with the choking, gasping, spluttering, coughing fit that ensued, but the next words out of my mouth were: "How... how did you find out?"

Well that was a ridiculous question to answer with; I couldn't 'un-ask' it. The cat was well and truly out of the bag and there wasn't any way I could flat-out deny her query without sounding like a complete fool.

As a professional woman with a social life on the fringe of accepted sexual behavior, I had been very careful not to let myself slip while I was on-line, especially to strangers during chat; they could be folks I might run into at work, or freaks from out in cyber space. And although I wasn't so circumspect in my personal life, I had the advantage of knowing if the person I was with was into the scene or not. But lately, I had resumed working on and posting stories, as well as chatting on-line during slow times at work.

As work associates... especially as close as the two of us were, Heather knew the password to my computer.

Fuck, my mistake.

My asphyxiating state drawing to a close, I finally looked up into her eyes. I was struck that she seemed so forlorn... waiting to see my reaction. She had innocent expression that begged me to forgive her.

After another long pause, mostly where I tried to remember what breathing had been like without a coughing fit, I finally replied. "I don't mind you knowing, but Heather... please keep it quiet? This is not something I want getting out!" I thought of some of the people we worked with, and how they would react. It bothered me that I was now so transparent, but I pushed that thought aside for later.

"No problem. I wouldn't tell anybody anyway." Heather said quietly to me.

I tried to smile at her, but she seemed too distracted to notice. Alarm bells pealed in my head. She had just dropped a major bombshell on me, and she still seemed to be in the warm-up phase.

Oh shit...

I knew her well enough, that whatever came next was almost guaranteed to be a whopper.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about Heather? About the kink I get-off on?" I asked a bit acerbically, feeling somewhat violated even though it was my own fault. I was trying to fish for information and hoping I wouldn't find any.

"Not really." She hedged, taking another, almost normal sip of wine. "Well kind of, I guess..." her reply trailed off, sounding almost like a question.

If the waitress had suddenly come out naked and painted red, Heather wouldn't have even noticed. "I was wondering... I've read some stories." she resumed. "You know; the on-line ones from sites. I don't know for sure, but I think I recognize your writing style fairly well."

Stories? She read stories? There is only one kind of story I write, and only one place I post them. Fuck, if Heather had read those stories on-line and then been into my computer at work...

I stopped breathing again, but this time it wasn't from a coughing fit. It was from stark, naked terror. I imagined the police bursting through the door of the restaurant to put me in cuffs and lock me away forever.

"Jessica and I have a little problem." Heather resumed, her voice sounding a million miles away through the pounding blood in my skull. "We both want to experiment, and... and, uh... I was wondering if you'd, umm... well... if you'd help us out?"

It took a pregnant moment for me to wrench my thoughts back to what she was saying. When the words finally registered, I'm not sure exactly what expression my face had assumed. But she looked up just in time to see it. There was absolutely nothing she could have said that would have shocked me more. Holy shit! This was Heather! A woman who never, ever showed a hint of any kind of kink whatsoever, and my radar is not that bad!

It was mind-boggling to think that she and Jessica, a mother and daughter pair for real... in real life... that they had something going together and needed my help. My mind was running in circles. She must have noticed my surprise, because she continued; "I've always wanted to try some of the things I've read about, especially when I think Jessica might like the stories too, but I don't know anybody that I trust enough to ask, except you. I was really hoping that I'd guessed right... about your stories, I mean, and why you write them."

Her little speech had given me enough time to close my wide-open mouth and get my sluggish thoughts together.

I was reeling. She looked so lost, so out of place, that I found myself reassuring her instead of finding my own balance.

Holy shit!

"I'm flattered. I... I need to think about this for a few minutes. I don't know what to say," I managed to reply.

"I understand. I've upset you; do you want to forget any of this happened and just leave?" Heather asked.

"No, no... it's okay." I muttered, knowing it was as far from okay as it was possible to get.

"Just give me a minute," I replied, a little stronger this time. "This... well, this is a lot to take in. For the the life of me, I can't figure how you think I could help."

She wisely kept silent, lest she lose what advantage springing this surprise on me had gained her.

We drank and ate in silence for the next while, as my mind raced. Just exactly what did she mean by 'help' her? Did she want to be submissive? Spanked? Humiliated? Controlled? And just what role did Jessica play in this? Did they share a common interest? How did this happen? Did Heather want to do those things to her daughter? Did she want them done to her? Was I supposed to seduce her? Make the two of them role-play some fantasy they had dreamed up? Heather doesn't even like girls, does she? I had only been in their company a couple of thousand times... how could I be this blind, for fuck sake?

But that line of thought only stemmed another, and another, and another, and another. Mental images of the girl brought a smile to my face. If she read my stories, it was obvious that Heather knew... or at least strongly suspected that I like younger women. But how did Jessica come to be in all of this?

It was a lightning bolt of revelation, albeit belated, that Heather probably wanted me to play around with thoughts of her daughter... her young daughter... and possibly write a story just for them. I'd have to get to know the two of them intimately if that were the case! Long talks about desire, descriptive tales of fantasies, maybe even a show-and-tell kind of thing?

As thrilling as this thought was, I knew some of these things I could handle, but some were way beyond my comfort zone. How would this affect our friendship? How about our relationship at work? Unless something catastrophic happened, we'd be okay. After all, she wasn't exactly a stranger, and hadn't I fantasized about having Heather in my clutches? If what she wanted was anything close to what I fantasized about, it would be a monstrous load of fun!

I looked up at her and put on my best calm face. "I need more of an idea of what you want. 'Help' is such a vague request; I need something with substance. What... and I want details... what exactly do you want me to do?" I asked. "I'd also like to know why you want this now, and just how the hell did Jessica get wrapped up in all of this?"

She considered a moment before replying. "I knew you were going to ask me that," Heather spoke. "I never did manage to come up with answers that I liked, but I'll do my best."

This was quickly moving to the surreal. Apparently, she had given this a lot of thought, and I felt way behind the power-curve.

As impatient as I was for answers, she still looked lost, so I waited for her answer.

"I... I think I want to be tied up and teased," Heather said after another gulp of wine and signaling the waitress for a refill. I'd have to check on her using alcohol as courage; drunks don't make for much fun when the play is serious.

"I want to be used, really... violated and humiliated... and to let Jessica see what a whore I am. Some of... oh Christ, I feel really sick telling you this." Heather said. This time, I could see a definite blush, followed almost immediately by a paling of skin, even more noticeable in the dark lighting of the restaurant.

As her words rolled over me, all I could think was how blind I had been, how obtuse. Maybe my radar really is that bad.

This had to be incredibly difficult for her. Surreal or not, Heather is a true friend and I resolved to do my best to put her at ease. I reached across the table and took her hand. "It's okay. I don't know how you feel, but I think I can imagine. I promise I won't laugh at anything you say. And I'll give you a tentative 'yes' for now, providing you aren't asking for anything too over-the-top." I still had no idea what role Jessica was to play in all of this, but having Heather at my mercy sent my heart racing.

Her face lit up. "You'll do it?"

"Shit, Heather! I still don't know what 'it' is!" I paused a moment, trying not to sound as exasperated as I felt; my own emotions had been going for a ride as well. I wanted to test her conviction. "I can't guess, Heather. You will have to tell me as much as you can. Start with how this all began." I finished her in a sterner voice, hoping my guess had been right.

She was hesitant at first, but quickly picked up on my tone and demeanor.

I smiled.

She began to tell me about which stories turned her on; which had turned her off. Not many were mine, but some of the stories sounded familiar. She told me of the different sites, stopping mid-narrative to describe various scenes, only to switch again and speak of places or outfits, or people. She was all over the place and I got the distinct impression that she wasn't sure exactly what she had been originally trying to tell me. I began to lose patience, but it was clear that Heather wanted someone to take control of her sexuality for a little while.

"Details, Heather." I interrupted abruptly. "I need details if this is going to go any farther than a mere conversation." She looked abashed at first, and then her eyes truly came alive as she went on.

Heather spoke for a long time. Customers came and went, our glasses were refilled more than once, and I let the mood and her words soak into every pore. She told me stories of some of the men she had dated over the years, how they all had expected her to be the giver and to take care of them... even though they never gave much in return, a roll she seemed to naturally fall into. She told me about one man who got very angry if she didn't let him come in her ass; how he would stop everything and leave her panting... just get up and leave. My heart broke for her when she told me of her fling with her college roommate and how it meant much more to Heather herself than it did to the other woman, how humiliated she felt when she told her roommate that she was in love and how her roommate laughed at her.

Then she told me about Jessica, and how her daughter had caught her masturbating while Heather was surfing her favorite sites. Jessica had taken one look at her mother and demanded to know just "what the fuck is going on?" It was spontaneous, but after the initial shock, Heather came within moments. After days embarrassed and awkward introspection, the underlying feeling remained and she knew she wanted to be humiliated like that again; to have her daughter see. Over the weeks that followed, Heather started to secretly open up to her daughter... to play games. Nothing heavy; leaving the computer open to suggestive sites, dressing more casual, asking her daughter's opinion about things so Jess would give her a reply and Heather could pretend it was an order.

Jess was not a dumb girl; she figured out rather quickly what her mother was after, but neither woman knew how to go further.

Finally, six days ago, Heather screwed up her courage and had a talk with her daughter... about everything. In turn, Jess told her mom about her attraction to women since she was old enough to know the difference. Her imagination and experience was limited though, and Heather found she was 'bottom-topping'... telling Jessica what to do and how to do it.

I gleaned that Heather wanted me to take her daughter under my wing and show her how it was done... the domination bit. I was to show Jessica the ropes. Heather wanted her little girl to see how completely willing she was to have her own daughter dominate her. Added to that, Heather suspected... well I'm sure it was a given at this point... that I was attracted to younger girls. In her eyes, this made out talk tonight seem worth the risk. She assumed that I would be interested for my own desires, rather than just helping a friend. She was right, but I would have taken Heather any way I could have her. My pussy was positively thrumming.

We continued our conversation through the rest of the wine, and then headed out. As we talked, I began to form plans in my mind. I knew I had to have Heather to myself for our first scene... to see what worked and what didn't, especially as I didn't know her limits. And not knowing what she was capable of, it would be a disaster to involve her daughter. Just the thought of Jessica playing in our games added a rush that is indescribable.

Not wanting to drive, we left our cars. We were in the cab and driving home when I made up my mind. I instructed the taxi to stop by an all-night grocery store and ordered Heather in with me while I did some preparatory shopping. The cabbie did a double take at her whispered 'Yes Ma'am'.

Once inside, I pointed to what I wanted, and had her place each of the items into the cart. Whenever she balked, I would just lower my voice and tell her this is what I wished.

I bought the largest cucumber I could find, a pint of Haagen-Dazs ice cream, hot fudge sauce, whipped cream, a bottle of reasonably good champagne, two D-cell batteries, the biggest tube of K-Y they had, a mouse trap, a box of condoms, candles, an eggplant, a large bag of clothespins, some heavy-duty duct tape, a roll of aluminum foil, and a few other assorted goodies. I didn't have a clue what I was going to do with all of it, but I've always said that one should never pass up the opportunity for a good mind-fuck. As she placed each item into the cart, Heather's face registered her emotions quite clearly. Oh yes, this was going to be fun indeed.

When we got back to my place, I left Heather in the living room while I went to lay out the groceries on the dining room table and get things ready. In the bedroom, I made sure that my toy box was easily accessible, that the wrist and ankle cuffs were just out of sight under the bed, and lit candles in strategic but secure positions.

When I got back to the living room, I rubbed Heather's shoulders and kissed her neck to see how tense she was. It was an intimate thing to do. I wanted no doubt to where this would lead. She was moderately tense, but she probably worked most of this out long before she approached me with the offer. I turned her around and kissed her, gently at first, but with increasing intensity as I felt her relaxing.

I can honestly say that I was more nervous than Heather. When we finished the kiss, I took a step back, smiled with my whole being, and then put on my serious voice.

"You're free to stop this anytime you want. Do you know what a safe-word is?" She nodded. "Yours is my name." I said it slowly and deliberately. I tried to come up with something witty to break the obvious tension we both felt. "From here on out, you are to address me solely as 'My Most Honored Mistress who is a Goddess.' Can you remember that? You may giggle the first time you say it, but after that, I expect a straight face. If you laugh, you can bet that I'll notice. Try it; say it now."

"My Most Honored Mistress who is a Goddess" Heather replied. I was very impressed... she didn't even smirk.

"Very good, whore... you said that well." I let the word 'whore slap the air between us; let it hang there and looked closely for a reaction. Heather only smiled.

"Now, I've got a few more things to do to get ready," I continued. "My bedroom is upstairs on the left, and the bathroom is off of it. Feel free to use it. When I get up there, I expect to find you nice and comfortable on the bed, with your clothes folded neatly on the dresser. Understand?"

"Yes."

This just would not do. I slapped her lightly. "Yes? Is that all you have to say?"

She thought for a moment; "Yes, My Most Honored Mistress who is a Goddess!" This time she suppressed a little bit of a laugh, but I let it pass and dropped the commanding tone of voice for a moment.

"Heather, a couple of things... and they're important. You can drop the silly Goddess line." I told her seriously. "First off, anything that happens tonight stays completely separate from the office, and completely separate from Jessica. You know there are folks who would try to fry us for doing this." Like Heather's sister, or even Jessica herself, if this went badly. God, I couldn't wait to get to the bottom of that dynamic.

"Yeah, I know," she said in a small voice.

"Exactly," I continued, holding her eyes with my own. "There is no way of knowing how this will turn out. So keep the office and Jessica separate for now. This is just you and me." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Another thing... I've never really done this before."

She looked surprised; confused. "But your stories! You write..."

"I write from my imagination!" I interrupted harshly. "What I mean," I continued in a softer voice, "is that I have never done this with another girl who I know from outside, someone so personal... someone I didn't meet at a club designed specifically for what attracts us both."

"I didn't know." Heather said.

I suddenly found myself entwined in a ferocious hug. Heather held me for a moment, and then kissed my forehead. Even with her shoes off, she is taller than I am. "I feel honored that you would do this for me." She held me for a while longer, and then pulled back. "I want to please you."

"I hope so," I whispered to nobody. I reached for my dominant voice again. "Now get upstairs, and no snooping around! You'll find out what's there in due time."

"Yes, My Most... shit, what was that line?"

"Ten lashes!" I said with a playful but firm slap to her left breast. "I expect you to remember my commands, and I told you to drop it. You are truly a stupid cunt if you can't remember a simple command." I took pity on her. After all, I had made up the ridiculous honorific just to break the ice.

"From here on, you will address me simply as Ma'am."

"Thank you. I have ten lashes, Ma'am." Good, she was learning.

I took my time in what I was doing so that Heather would have plenty of opportunity to get upstairs and comfortable, and then to worry. When I thought she had waited long enough, I grabbed my things and climbed the stairs as quietly as possible.

When I opened the door, she turned to me a little petulant. "I was wondering if you were going to come up here or not."

I just shook my head... so much to learn. "Wrong, you stupid whore; did I tell you to talk?"

Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply; "No."

This would never do. "Just no?"

She had such an expressive face. "No, Ma'am."

"How many lashes do you have, slave?" I asked.

"I have ten lashes, Revered Mistress." Heather said proudly (?). Was she hoping to build a deficit?

"No, you have thirty; ten from downstairs, ten for speaking without permission, and ten for addressing me informally. Spread yourself out on the bed, before I decide to give you more."

Heather rather hastily complied, but lay unsure once she was on on the bed. I pulled up the ankle cuffs and tightened them around her legs. As I did each foot, I took the time to examine and admire each perfect detail of her body. I was rather obvious about it, considering our position. She didn't think to realize she was face-up when I started, but there was nothing she could do about it now. My eyes travelled her length.

She seemed to appreciate it, with the unnecessary squirming she was doing. I repeated the process with her hands and then sat down next to her on the bed.

As I began to stroke her legs, she looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression, but she didn't say a word. Something occurred to me. "I don't believe in gags, so I won't use one. Scream, if you like... I could blindfold you... is that something you fantasize about?"

She seemed to think for a moment. "No Ma'am, I would like to watch you."

That pleased me. "Very well, then." I continued to rub her chest for a while, stopping every now and then to pinch and twist one of her nipples. Each time I did, she would strain her cunt up a little harder. Good. I like women with responsive nipples. I briefly considered getting out the clothespins, but put the thought aside for later.

When I judged that she'd had enough, I got up from the bed and stretched. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry again. Don't go away." With that, I headed out the door and grabbed some of the things I'd brought up earlier. Among them were the ice cream and an ice cream scoop.

When I walked back into the room, her eyes lit up.

"Would you like to help me with desert, cunt?" I asked softly.

"Yes, I would, Ma'am...but I'm all tied up at the moment."

I laid a slap to her breast... hard this time. I know I surprised her, but I wanted her to know I was no longer flippant and easy-going. "I don't think that will be a problem." I plopped down next to her and opened the ice cream carton. "Oh dear... I forgot to bring a bowl! Hmm... where shall I put this ice cream?" I dipped out a small scoop of ice cream and dropped it into her belly button. "Yes, I think that will do nicely."

I trailed the scoop over her stomach, which made her gasp, then laugh. Ticklish, I noted. Good. Maybe we'd work with that later. When I was finished drawing sticky lines on her stomach with the scoop, I stepped back and surveyed my work. I lowered my head to her stomach and began licking at the impromptu desert, making sure to slip several times so that my tongue flicked across her skin. As I finished, I made sure to pay special attention to the trails that had melted down her sides. This seemed almost... but not quite... to tickle her. I could see her tense with each lick, but she wasn't laughing.

"Oh, but that was good!" Then I pretended to remember something. "I didn't save you any, did I? How rude of me!"

I stripped off my clothes in deliberately long and languid movements... no hurry at all. I returned to sit astride her chest, facing her.

And then I got insanely self-conscious.

I am not built like Heather; not at all like her. I am 44 and not 32. I have two children, and the changes show. I am not statuesque. I'm older, shorter, have bigger hips and a much bigger bottom. I have heavier boobs that are undeniable lower than they have ever been, and I wondered what she saw as she looked up at me. It took a herculean effort of will not to bounce off of her and pretend this whole thing was a mistake.

But oh God, oh fuck, did I want this!

The position opened me up some. Okay, it opened me up a lot, and I could smell my own arousal... something that was not lost on Heather either. Her eyes sparked a bit as her body accepted my weight. I scooped a little bit of ice cream out of the container with my fingers and brought it to her lips. "Here's some for you." She did an admirable job of licking my fingers clean, then looked up at me and smiled.

"More? Do you want more, slut?" I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please."

I slapped her tits again. "Are you never going to learn? Five lashes... now what is my name?"

"Ma'am" she answered contritely. Good, she was learning still.

I dribbled some ice cream onto my own nipple, and then bent down so that it was just out of reach of her mouth; my hand across her throat so she couldn't rise up. She stretched her tongue out as far as she could, but the very tip was all she could reach with. I let her struggle with it for a few moments before leaning forward.

Christ, how on earth was I going to be able to maintain control with her doing this? My nipples have always been super sensitive, and she was licking and sucking as if there was no tomorrow. Every stroke of her tongue seemed to travel directly to my clit. It took all of my willpower to break away.

I spent the next half-hour teasing her. I would bring her to the edge of orgasm and then stop, teasing and torturing her nipples with pinches, teeth, and eventually the clothespins... not everything I had her buy was a mind-fuck.... I started flicking them off for the fun of it, and to test her limits. By the way she squirmed, Heather's nipples might just be as sensitive as mine. She made lots of noise, but she never said my name, never uttered the 'safe word' to make me stop. I made her watch me masturbate from a few inches away, made her tongue my ass, made her taste her own juices as I forcibly fucked her with my fingers, made her taste her own ass, too.

I pulled away from her and stood up. "How many lashes have you earned tonight" I asked in my best voice, hands on my ample hips.

"I have earned thirty-five, Ma'am." Heather replied promptly. "Ten of them were earned downstairs and the rest up here."

I'd forgotten, and didn't really care, but that sounded like the right number. "And what do you think I should do about these lashes?"

"I think I should be punished, Ma'am." She seemed... scared? Excited? I wasn't sure. I knew I'd have to start slowly with this; see how she reacted to pain... see how I reacted to inflicting that pain. I left the room, and came back carrying a neon-bright pink paddle, the leather handle wrapped in what could only be described as a feather boa. It was a prop; a gag gift I bought myself, not a torture instrument. I could use it to inflict pain if I wanted to, but it was silly enough in color and style... not sinister... that it probably wouldn't freak her out. At least, I hoped it wouldn't.

Heather's eyes grew big, but she didn't flinch. Good. I half expected her to laugh at me... one could lose a certain amount of credibility when carrying this pink monstrosity around.

"I'm going to release your bindings, and I want you to roll over onto your stomach and stay that way. Spread your legs wide, and use the pillows as necessary to prop yourself up so that I don't have to reach for your slutty ass."

I decided to start out with light strokes, just in case she wasn't really into the whole spanking thing. If it looked as if it was getting to be too much, I could just back down to light strokes and make it a symbolic punishment... a learning experience for us both. After all, I was supposed to teach Jessica.

I was probably more nervous than she. I took a deep breath and swatted her with the paddle. It was enough to make her jump, but just barely. I hit her again, with about the same intensity. After five, I upped the force just a little bit; she seemed to be doing okay. I started finding different targets; her left cheek, her right, top, bottom, the inside of her thigh... she took it all, whimpering slightly now after each stroke.

"How many is that?" I asked between blows, fully into my rhythm.

"That is twenty lashes, Ma'am!" Heather grunted.

Close enough.

At twenty-two, she was rising up to meet each stroke, so I started hitting still harder, and then increased the intensity every stroke until her skin started turning red under her olive complexion. God, she was beautiful.

"How many left?" I panted. Spanking someone is hard work!

"I have four lashes left, Ma'am!" I honestly didn't know if she was right or not.

"Wrong, you were off by one. That is five more lashes." The shit I could come up with...

"Yes, Ma'am; five more lashes!" Her voice seemed a little bit unsteady now.

"Count down the last five," I ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am." Thwack; "Five, Ma'am!" Thwack; "Four, Ma'am!" Thwack; "Three, Ma'am!" She was definitely unsteady now; I laid the last two strokes quickly. CRACK, CRACK; "Two, one..." she was sobbing now. "KAREN!"

My real name. Her 'safe' word.

While we calmed down, I stroked her back, played with her hair, whispered into her ear what a good little girl she was. I was happy to see that she had used my name, and that she could see that it worked. Heather could take a fair amount of pain... those last two were full swings from my arm. I hadn't wanted to hit her too hard, but I wasn't sure of my control.

After a few more minutes, I told her to roll over, and then I tightened her bonds again. She groaned as her abused bottom came in contact with the sheets, but I noticed that her nipples were still erect and she had a willing look in her eyes. That reassured me. I'd been more than a little worried about a novice who was punishing a beginner.

I went back to my earlier teasing until we both seemed ready for more. I pulled out a condom and wrapped it over the cucumber. I looked into her eyes as I ran it over her breasts, along her ribs, down her stomach to lightly tease at her opening. Her eyes went very wide when I teased her asshole with the tip. She let out a soft moan and tried to push herself on it... at least as far as her bonds would allow.

Interesting. I had an anal slut on my hands. But because she wanted it, I denied her. I tossed the cucumber aside and slid a finger into each of her openings; rubbing her clit at the same time. We fucked like that for a while. Well, Heather didn't have much to say about it, but she didn't seem to be complaining, either. Every time she came close to orgasm, I slowed down, pulled my fingers out, made her lick them off and thank me for the honor. It eventually became too much for her.

"Please, Ma'am," she gasped, "Mistress, may I come?"

I looked at her for a moment. "No, you may not."

I repositioned so I was laying atop her; looking right into her eyes, watching her face contort as I reached down to lightly tap her clit. She seemed determined not to climax, though it couldn't have been easy for her. I sure wasn't making it any easier. Finally: "Now you may come."

My greatest pleasure of the evening was watching her face as she came. If I'd had any doubts about what I'd been doing or getting myself into, that moment erased them all. She said my name again, but I knew it wasn't from any distress.

I rolled off her and unfastened the wrist cuffs. We each undid an ankle, and then I found myself smothered in a hug. "That was... oh... fuck... I don't have the words to describe it... fantastic, incredible... thank you!"

I kissed her. "No Heather, thank you. I enjoyed it." I still didn't know what exactly she wanted me to do with Jessica, or even how I was going to do it, but I figured Heather had earned the right for me to try.

And I was so fucking willing to get it right.