Chapter 5. In which our heroine does her homework

It was morning again, and Cynthia wanted to feel conflicted. She wanted to feel disgusted with herself. She wanted to hate herself for groveling before the Lord of her dreams. But she didn’t. She couldn’t even bring herself to fake it. She felt good! The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Colors seemed brighter. Smells seemed sweeter. The whole world was a fucking Disney musical! She had just had the most amazing sexual experience — the most amazing experience period — of her entire two thousand, four hundred eighty-two year existence.

Like a loyal puppy, she had reveled in his praise. Even now as she heard him say “good girl” in her mind, she shivered. Her nipples turned into pencil erasers. Her pussy turned into a warm, wet vise. Like a faithful slave, she had obeyed his every whim. She had even tried to anticipate his needs and desires and to obey those. Like a submissive contrite little child, she had accepted his right to discipline her. She had even begged him to spank her, to punish her, to purify her, to shape her again into his perfect “good girl”.

It had cost her every last ounce of her self-respect. But oh, what she had been given in return! She had always been a devout woman her entire life; hell, she had actually been face-to-face with her Gods! But last night — in a dream! — was the first truly religious experience in two and a half millennia of full and accomplished life.

«So this is what it feels like to be fulfilled, to find that thing that was missing from your life!»

It had only been a dream — a dream! — but it still consumed her. She had awoken from her dream in a supplicant’s pose: head down, ass up, arms outstretched. It had felt — right. She had drifted back to sleep in the same position and had awoken again this morning in the same position. It still felt right.

Even her morning routine was suddenly free of fear and stress. Gone was the visceral terror at the sound of draining water. Towels and washcloths inspired no dread. She had no fear of “Discipline”. She was now fully disciplined! She had experienced both the carrot and the stick. While the stick was truly terrifying, the carrot was so — yummy — that she was certain that her Lord would never again need the stick to bring her to heel.

I must note at this point that I am sometimes surprised by my own handiwork. In her mind, Majestic Woman had just described her “fantasy” sex life as “yummy”. Yes!

But even beyond her newfound submissive serenity, she could only take the tiny chiding inner voice of self-disgust so seriously. It was just a freaking dream after all! Yes, it was a dream where she had surrendered herself into sexual slavery, but still just a dream.

«Besides, it’s not like he gave me a choice anyway. I could drown in “Discipline” hell until I broke — and break I would, every time — or I could just submit from the outset and be rewarded beyond my wildest dreams. Well, I guess not “beyond” my wildest dreams, » she giggled — actually giggled! — to herself, «My wildest dream ever just happened! And that reward was in the dream not beyond it.»

And so it went for Cynthia all morning. She was fooling herself into believing she could have her “dream” cake and eat in too. Every self-reassurance that it was “only a dream” was followed immediately by a visceral, nearly childish, thrill in how vividly real were her animal arousal and her orgasmic pleasure, her rewards for accepting the yoke of her Lord and Master. She was clearly at war with herself over her dream behavior, but the forces of feminist anger and shame were weak and outnumbered. They were fighting a flagging rearguard retreat. And the forces of subservient bliss were fresh, well-armed, and overwhelming. They seized the day despite the logical flaws in their arguments.

Her fight for her own freedom ultimately ended with a whimper, and she put it from her thoughts. Now she had the rest of her day before her. She was feeling refreshed, alert, alive.

«Ready to kick some supervillain ass!»

It was time to plant a seed, a reminder really.

«“Think of it as homework for next time.”»

Now we would see what sort of internal debate this kicked off.

Point: «He said I had an “incompetent mouth”! If I don’t — »
Counterpoint: «Oh Zeus’s Lightning, Cynthia. It’s just a dream!»
Point: «But it’s a dream with “Discipline”. He said, “Only bad slaves make excuses.” I can’t ignore this. He’ll punish me!»

(Of course, she conveniently ignores how much she wants to please me just because obedience feels good.)
Counterpoint: «Um. Okay, look, can we at least “time box” this, ah, fellatio research? I’m still a superheroine; I need to spend some time on some superheroics.»
Point: «Two hours, max!»

And thus Majestic Woman’s laptop was introduced to internet porn. I was very helpful with my seed thoughts for googling. Three hours later, she felt as if she had barely scratched the surface of the complicated subject of cocksucking. She had taken down some notes that seem to cover the basics:

• work up some spit. saliva = lubrication

• lips over teeth. teeth on penis -> BAD!!!

• tongue action -> stimulate glans (head), work underside, lick balls Before? During?

• suction: seal lips. Conflict w/ tongue action? Alternate?

• deep throat==all the way in! HE’S TOO BIG!!!

• “suppress gag reflex” -> WTF?! It bends UP, not down! more flexible than it looks??

• eye contact is sexy

• more from D/s “subbie” blogger on “face-fucking”: “If he grabs your head and starts thrusting, don’t freak out! It doesn’t necessarily mean that you screwed up or that he’s punishing you. It probably just means that he’s asserting his dominance, taking control. That’s what we want, right, ladies? OTOH, he might be punishing you. Have you been a naughty girl? Communication is important.”

• NEED TO PRACTICE!! -> with a dildo? with a MAN!? :-P

• Big Rubber Monster!!

This last note, I must add, was in reference to a short video she saw online. It started with a woman holding something jammed down her throat. Slowly she drew it out until you could see that the object was a two foot long translucent pink rubber dildo. As she wrote the note, mentally christening it with the acronym “BRM”, she thought to herself, «If I could deep throat THAT, I could take anything My Lord can throw at me.»

Looking at her notes she started to get nervous. This was beginning to snowball. She was already an hour outside of her time box, and she was nowhere near ready to “turn in her homework” to her Dream Lord. «“Only bad slaves make excuses”... “Discipline”» No, those were not seeds from me. She did that all by herself.

«That’s it then. The whole day is shot. I’ve got to be ready to face Him.»

She needed to come up with a plan and execute it, right now! She seized upon the goal of swallowing the BRM. I was impressed; she had barely even touched man meat to her lips before and she already wanted to try out for the Cocksucking Olympic Team!

Her first problem, of course, was that she didn’t actually have a BRM. But never fear! I was there for her with helpful googling suggestion seeds, and in no time at all, she had located a brick-and-mortar store that sold exactly the desired “novelty”. Except ... she had no idea if they actually had it in stock, and the store was in Nez Pierce, Washington, almost a fourteen hundred miles away. The second problem was only a minor inconvenience for a woman who can fly, but transit time could become an issue. She was not Greased Lightning or Power Man; her top flight speed was only about eight hundred miles per hour. There were a few other sellers in her search results, but none that listed a physical store location. So she called the Nezzytown store.

The voice on the line was masculine and gravelly. “Ecstasy Connection, how may I serve you?”

«What the fuck?» That greeting really threw her off her stride. “H-hi, I’m calling to see if you have item ... D-1432-24?”

“Ah, I can only assume you’ve seen the video?”

«Arrgh. I wasn’t expecting to have to make small talk!»

“Um, yes. Do you have it?”

“Checking now, ma’am. Ye-e-es, we have two in stock. Shall I send you one?” I had located the mind on the other end of the phone now, and I was listening to his thoughts too.

“No,” said Cynthia, “I’ll be by to pick it up this afternoon. Can you hold one for me?”

Now he was confused, and maybe a little suspicious. “Um, ma’am, that’s a Portal City area code. What do you mean ‘you’ll pick it up this afternoon’?”

«Damn! Fuck caller ID!» thought Cynthia. “No, no,” she said, wracking her brain for a way out, “That’s, ah, my cell number. I’m actually in town, you know, on business!”

“Um, Oka-a-ay.” He still didn’t trust her. You got some weird people calling sex stores sometimes. “But I’ll need a credit card to run that hold for you.”

«Shit! Shit! Shit! I don’t want this loser to know my NAME!» “Really? Look, I swear I’ll be there in just a few hours.”

“Ma’am, it’s store policy,” he invented, “Look, I’ve got a line at the checkout here. Could you call back?” The store was empty. He was just trying to get rid of her.

“No, No, just wait a sec. I’ve got to dig it out of my purse.” She ran for her purse, came back, gave him the card info.

He ran the authorization right then, still not trusting her. “Okay, Missus-”

“Ms.”

“Miz, ah, Royal, that item will be waiting for you. What time should I expect you?”

“Sometime this afternoon. I have some meetings, and besides that, I’m not completely sure where you are. How far you are from me, that is.”

“Sure, we’re right downtown. Oh, and we close at eight.”

As she hung up she started making plans. She was still two hours away at her top speed, making the round trip almost four hours. This would seriously cut into her practice time. She was about ready to book a hotel room in Nezzy, but then remembered that last night was the only night of the three that she didn’t damage things in her sleep.

So she decided now to do something borderline unethical, something she had never done before. She was about to use the teleporter in Spyglass for personal business. This was not a seriously bad breach of ethics. But she recalled that Eagle Warrior had once used it when he realized he had forgotten about his son’s birthday party two states away. He had managed to make it on time, but had reported some awkward questions afterward from one of the other adults about where his car was, or rather wasn’t.

Again, not a big deal, but bad form, somewhat risky, something the LoH discouraged. She had a reputation as one of the most personally upright — some would say uptight — heroes in the LoH. Just because it was Majestic Woman making personal use of the teleporter, someone might notice. Noticing would be bad for her considering what would be in her “shopping bag” on the trip back! But she had to do this.

So she pulled out her lead box to take with her, thinking, «This is starting to get complicated.» Many members of the LoH — especially those gifted with super-strength — kept a cubic-foot-sized lead box handy so that if Power Man or his young cousin Powerhouse were exposed to rheanite, one of the others, bearing an aforementioned lead box, could come rescue him/her and could pack away the selectively-deadly radioactive crystal for disposal. She had no idea if the teleporter’s monitors could “see” through lead, but it was the best she could do on short notice.