Chapter 3

I had told her that her punishment was over, but had just now reversed that decision and told her I wasn’t finished punishing her after all.

“What?” Her voice sounded confused.

Not “What, Sir?”

“You said I did it wrong. You said I was flawed. I’m your boss, Mandy, and you don’t get to tell your boss that he was wrong. That’s rude and I will not tolerate you being rude.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, meekly.

I had to restrain a laugh because there she was, stark naked, sitting on top of me, “dominating” me in one sense, yet she was being required to play her subservient role.

“And then you refused to answer questions or discuss the situation. That’s defiance and I will not allow defiance from my employee.”

“No, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir,” she said.

“There will be ten more swats with the belt for the defiance, maybe more,” I announced. I actually saw her pupils dilate. “For the rudeness, I have something else in mind.”

She just sat there.

“Bend over and give me a nipple,” I said. “I want to taste them.”

She leaned down and positioned her left nipple right against my lips.

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, as I sucked it in.

She didn’t sigh, but her whole body relaxed. It was like the tension in her flowed out through her nipple, like milk, and into my mouth. All I did was nurse her nipple, gently, but she reacted and I could feel that reaction where her skin touched mine. It was a positive reaction, but I couldn’t explain how I knew that. I felt my dick start to react, too.

I pushed at her shoulders and kept sucking harder as her breast elongated, becoming almost a cone as I also bit the nipple, just hard enough to keep it in my mouth. I heard her breath catch in her throat and let the nipple pop out of my mouth.

“Now the other one,” I said.

She almost mashed the right breast against my face. The left one had been semi erect when I captured it. This one was firmer, longer. I bit this one and varied the pressure of my teeth, listening to her voice. Her voice betrayed nothing, but she ground her pussy against my pubic hair and pushed my half hard penis sideways.

She began alternating breasts without my instruction, and I realized very quickly that what she was trying to do was manipulate me. She’d pull and I’d suck and bite harder, making the breast into a cone again, until I finally let go. Twice she sobbed when I held on longer, biting harder. But she always gave me the other nipple. Meanwhile, she was masturbating on my abs.

I wanted her to ride my cock, but she was too short for me to have her nipples in my mouth and her pussy on my dick at the same time.

“Stop!” I commanded, when she switched nipples.

She hovered there, with both breasts over my face.

“Sit up!” I ordered.

She did so instantly and the back of her butt touched my penis again.

“I’m going to fuck you, now,” I said, trying to sound menacing.

“Yes, Sir,” she panted.

“I’m not hard, yet,” I said. “Get me hard.”

She scrambled, moving to kneel beside me. Her hand went to my half-hard cock and gripped it.

“Did the professor make you suck his cock?” I asked.

“No. He was always too eager to just fuck me,” she breathed.

“How about your husband. Did you suck his cock?”

I saw distaste on her face before she made her facial muscles steady. Botox doctors would hate Mandy Potemkin, because she could make her face do the same thing on command.

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

“Did you enjoy it?”

She hesitated.

“Tell me the truth or I’ll have to add swats to your punishment later,” I warned.

“That was one of the ways he disciplined me when he got mad,” she said.

There was unspoken information there. Despite the fact that she had not answered the question, I got the sense that she hadn’t liked doing it. That made sense. He was abusive. Most women don’t enjoy being intimate with a man they’re afraid of. I didn’t want her thinking about her ex, or being less than thrilled with what I told her to do.

“Use your hand,” I said. “Jack me off.”

She went to work and it was clear she was familiar with a penis that wasn’t quite ready. I wondered if the professor had been partially disabled, sexually speaking. I had read that some rapists and serial killers couldn’t get erect unless they were engaged in their chosen form of humiliating their victims. Had the professor used his little disciplinary scam because that was the only way he could perform?

I stopped thinking about that as she got me harder and harder, until her hand was sliding six inches in each direction on my now fully-serviceable penis. I took ten or fifteen seconds to reflect on how I hadn’t developed an erection while she was naked and willing. Did that make me like those other men I’d just thought about?

No. I hadn’t gotten erect because what I was doing to her didn’t turn me on.

If anything, I was the opposite of a predator.

Then I thought about the fact that the relationship that had developed certainly had components of manipulation and control. I was the boss. The only reason she’d submitted to me was to keep her job.

Except it was also obvious that her submission was voluntary.

“You’re getting soft again,” she whined. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No,” I said. “Come here.”

She did and I made her lie down on top of me. I just stroked her back as she turned her head and lay it on my chest.

We lay like that for five minutes before she spoke.

“Sir? I don’t understand.”

I decided to just be blunt.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I feel like I’m forcing you to do something and I don’t like that feeling.”

She lifted her head and then got up to sit on my chest, staring down at me with her face in a tunnel formed by her burnished hair.

“You are not taking advantage of me,” she said.

“It feels like I am,” I said.

“You’re not forcing me. You’ve never forced me. If you had, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You’d have quit your job?”

“I’d have asked HR to put me somewhere else. If that didn’t work, then yes, I’d quit.”

“You need this job,” I said

“Yes, I do, but I can find another job. I don’t want to, but I could.”

“We need to talk about this, Mandy. I don’t understand it.”

“I know,” she said. “I hope someday you do. I really hope that.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why me?”

She dropped her head and kissed me. It was the first time she had initiated a kiss.

“Chemistry?” she suggested, when she pulled her lips off mine.

She was right, there, at least as far as I was concerned. I was drawn to this woman in a way I’d never been drawn to a woman. I’d fucked plenty of women, but that’s all it was - fucking. It had been fun, but there had been no future in it. I was pretty sure most of the women had felt the same way. But it was different with Mandy. I didn’t understand the connection I felt, or when it had happened, or why I was willing to enter into this strange world of domination and submission. But I was. And I didn’t want her to go find another master somewhere, who would be willing to climb on her smooth, naked body and mate with her.

“I like you,” I said.

“Isn’t that chemistry?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can’t tell where chemistry ends and this other thing we have begins.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ll tell you if you get it wrong.”

“I’ve already assigned you to future punishment for doing exactly that,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “And that’s fine. Let me worry about that. You just be you.”

“Well, that’s fucked up,” I groaned. “Aren’t I supposed to be the master and you’re the slave? Isn’t that how this thing is designed?”

“I’m not your slave,” she said. “I can’t explain it the way you want me to. Let’s just say that I feel you’re worthy of disciplining me when I need to be disciplined. I know that sounds presumptuous, and I would never have said that to Professor Limpet. I’m only saying it to you because I hope it’s language you can understand, and because you’re the first man I’ve met who actually cares about how I feel.”

“When did you come to this realization?” I asked.

“When I ruined your project. It was the way you reacted. You didn’t hate me or berate me. You just said we’d do it again. I knew then that I wanted you to discipline me.”

“To learn how to discipline you,” I said.

She paused.

“Yes.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Sir,” she breathed.

That “Sir” was charged with emotion and my brain recognized it as desire. She wanted me as her partner in this weird drama. There was chemistry between us, but there was also more than that. It was the beginning of a bond of some kind, a bond stronger than friendship.

Sexual desire can be viewed as two parallel roads. If the person driving on one of them feels sexual desire for the one driving on the other road, but the roads never come together, then nothing happens. There might be some fantasy involved, but that’s it. If, however, both people driving along on these parallel paths feel the same sexual attraction – chemistry, if you will – then the roads begin to merge, like a magnet is drawing them together. When the roads finally join, then they find out if they can drive the same path and continue to be happy.

Her added “Sir” made my car slam into hers. Suddenly, my very serviceable boner was back and rarin’ to go.

I pushed her off of me and crawled between thighs she spread voluntarily.

“I’m going to fuck you, now,” I said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You are not to enjoy it. This is for my pleasure only. You are not to cum,” I said.

“Yes, Sir, I’ll try, Sir,” she said. Her eyes glittered up at me.

“If you cum, then I’m going to inseminate you and try to get you pregnant,” I warned.

“I won’t cum, Sir,” she said. Her voice was full of emotion.

“Put me in you,” I ordered.

She reached but she was so short she could barely grasp my cock to pull. She was able to get the tip where it needed to be, though, and I slid into her in one, long lunge.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned, as my overlarge prick skewered her. I knew it had to be uncomfortable, but her groan sounded ... satisfied ... somehow.

I stayed deep and ground my pubes against her clit. She closed her eyes and groaned some more.

“Don’t you cum,” I warned.

“No, Sir,” she gasped.

I kept grinding. Her eyes popped open and got wide. I felt her pussy muscles massage my buried cock.

“Are you cumming?” I asked, menacingly.

She shook her head frantically, and bit her lip so hard I was worried it might bleed. I knew she was lying and she knew I knew.

I pulled out and started a traditional in and out motion that felt really good. I was having fun and part of that fun was making her cum. I decided to try to make her cum two more times, just to see if I could do it. I made up my own rules saying that I couldn’t repeat whatever it was that made her cum. That meant I couldn’t go in deep and rub the shit out of her clit again. But she had vaginal orgasms, too, so I thought number two was probable.

It took maybe five minutes before she shuddered, whined and her pussy rippled around my cock again.

“It looks like you’re having an orgasm!” I barked.

“No ... Sir,” she panted. “It’s not an orgasm. I think it’s a cramp.”

“You have a cramp in your pussy?” I teased.

She nodded.

“That must be what it is, Sir,” she gasped.

What to do for number three?

I thought about changing to doggy style, or some other position, but I really didn’t want to take my cock out of her. She felt snug and warm and welcoming and I wanted to stay there.

So I went in deep again and then rolled. She flopped and then regained control. Her hands went to my chest and I watched her sit up straight. She winced as every bit of my prick punched the back of her pussy.

“You’re sooo fucking long,” she commented.

“Is that a complaint?” I asked.

“No, Sir, I’m not complaining, sir,” she panted, but she leaned forward and eased an inch of me out of her. She started rocking, moving maybe two inches in and out of her.

“No orgasms,” I warned.

“No, Sir,” she panted.

She lengthened her jerk until three of my inches were slithering in and out of her. Her breathing increased. Her fingers, where they rested on my chest gripped, but her fingernails didn’t tear the skin.

“Mandy?” I warned.

“I’m trying, Sir,” she whined. “But I can’t help it.”

She was trying, all right. She was trying for an orgasm that would make her punishment worth it.

Then it was there and her pussy was squeezing me with unbelievable strength as her jerks became shorter again, but also faster. I wasn’t sliding in her any longer. She was too tight for that, but her clit could rub where we were joined and she did that with a vengeance.

“I’m soreeeeeee,” she wailed as I reached to pinch her nipples and pull them hard.

She didn’t just cum. She melted down, growling and crying and even cursing as she came so hard I was afraid she might actually run out of oxygen. She slowed in incremental steps until she slowed and hung her head. Her face was hidden in her hair.

“You came, Mandy,” I said, in the understatement of the year.

“I – did – Sir,” she panted. “I – couldn’t – help – it.”

She lifted her head and used one hand to move her hair away from her face, making it drape down her back.

“Please don’t hate me for it,” she whispered.

I wanted to slap her and it shocked me. She knew this had been a game. We both knew it. We knew it from the outset, and yet she insisted on playing it as if had been real. I think it was then that I realized she’d never had a man who really respected her, or cared about how she felt. She was used to being used and being used was the only “measure of success” she knew. Her own pleasure was dependent on making sure her “partner” was satisfied. If she could snatch some happiness along the way, fine. But if she broke the rules – even stupid, game-playing rules – then she had failed.

And needed to be punished.

That’s why I felt like slapping some sense in to her. What she’d just done was fantastic, something I’d remember for a long time. But she needed to learn when to stop playing the game.

I pushed her off of me and she squeaked as she fell sideways on the bed, weak enough from her exertions that she didn’t have the strength to catch herself gracefully. I was angry, but not at her. I was angry at myself for having wanted to lay a violent hand to her beautiful cheek. My own emotions had betrayed me and continued to do so because I wanted to blame her for my own transgression.

I got over her and roughly kneed between her thighs. She spread them and tried to “assume the position” but I didn’t wait for her. I gripped my prong and fished for the spot. Finding it I lunged forward, but this time she was already accustomed to my size and all she did was sigh as she was filled again. I reached for one of her wrists and put it over her head. She moved the other one there all by herself and I hated the fucking men who had trained her like this.

But I still held her wrists down over her head while I started pounding her.

Just like that we were playing the game again and all I could do was concentrate on that. If I thought of anything else I was afraid everything would be ruined. She wanted to be punished ... so I punished her.

“You – were – bad!” I grated.

“I know,” she whined.

“I’m going to cum in you,” I groaned.

“You shouldn’t,” she said, helplessly.

A small sliver of my mind was shocked that she could be so completely subservient at one second, and then challenge me another. I could think of only one reason why she might do that.

“Are – you – ripe?” I gasped.

“Yes!” she yipped.

I gave her three more lunging strokes before I slammed in hard and stopped, gasping for air. I let go of her wrists so I could bear my weight more evenly and push even harder.

“Good!” I yelled, as I let loose and filled her with my essence, spurting into her hot depths over and over.

I think the only reason I didn’t lose my mind in that moment, as I intentionally threatened her womb with my seed, was because her hands came to smooth all over my back, and she hugged me to her in an embrace that felt unbreakable. It was so completely different than our first time that it was almost like she was another woman. The first time I had fucked her, plain and simple. This time ... we had made love.

Still, somehow, it felt a little dirty ... a little seamy. It felt like the sperm I knew was swimming in her womb ... shouldn’t be there.