Teach Me Tender, Teach Me Rough Page 15

  “You’re a disobedient little cunt,” he told her.

  Cameron closed her eyes, enduring the worst insult a female could hear.

  “You don’t deserve my cock in you, but I will take you in the ass just to teach you a lesson.”

  Victor seized hold of her waist pushing her up onto the mattress. “On all fours, and point that ass in the air, or so help me…”

  Cameron arched her back, instantly compliant. She only wanted him to have some measure of pleasure, some sense of connection to her.

  He came to her naked. She felt his thigh against her, arm brushing, his hand squeezing her buttock and moving to the tiny opening.

  “You’re tight,” he said. “Ever been fucked in the ass?”

  She shook her head no.

  “We’ll use a lubricant. You’ll loosen over time—especially around here.”

  Cameron tensed up. Did he mean to leave her at the club?

  The cream was cold and creamy smooth. He pushed it in her with two fingers, forcing her to relax and open up.

  Hard to imagine a cock in there.

  Victor used Cameron’s hair to wipe the excess cream off his hand.

  He was slow and deliberate about it, maximizing the degradation.

  “Chloe says you ask a lot of questions.”

  Cameron gasped as she felt his naked shaft, pressing between her buttock cheeks.

  “If you stay with me, you’ll speak when spoken to.”

  Expertly he entered her, just an inch or two, but more than enough to make Cameron feel she was going to explode.

  “Don’t fight it,” he advised. “Relax and take it in, just think of this as a second pussy.”

  Cameron imagined just that and was able to take several more inches.

  “Good girl,” said Victor.

  Cameron’s heart soared. How had just these two words come to mean so much. She let him know she understood by pushing her ass against him, offering, encouraging more.

  He gripped her hips, clamping them like steel. The drool poured from her mouth onto the bedspread as he went in further and further.

  Cameron saw stars. She felt full and empty at the same time. She screamed in joy and expectation as he began to fuck her for real, withdrawing his shaft nearly to the tip and slamming it back in, reclaiming his territory and a little bit more, over and over.

  She curled her toes as he found her clit again, manipulating. Her pussy clenched and unclenched, as if confused by the signals, wanting and expecting to have a cock to make everything feel normal.

  Victor made her come again. He stopped his thrusts temporarily, letting the guilty little waves wrack through her. It was humiliating, climaxing like this, plus she was afraid because surely her punishment was mounting with every offense.

  The orgasm wrung Cameron out like a dish rag. Victor seized the opportunity to invade, assaulting her senses, pounding her conquered ass. He rode her until he was good and ready, making it clear she must endure.

  Finally he climaxed, shooting his load of semen deep into her channel. She cried into the gag as he did so, his cock swollen and super rigid. Without another word, he climbed off her, leaving her in a sweaty heap.

  She must have dozed off again.

  He slapped her ass to rouse her.

  “Get off the bed, slut.”

  Cameron struggled to obey. Impatient he yanked her collar and dragged her arm. She landed on the floor on her knees—which was exactly where he wanted her.

  He took the blindfold off. Victor was naked and freshly showered. Her heart clenched seeing how beautiful he was, his hair freshly washed and his skin glistening. She by contrast, still bore the stains of her abuse, though they felt like badges of honor.

  Instinctively she lowered her head to his feet.

  He let her stay like this for several moments.

  “Up,” he said snapping his fingers.

  Cameron arched her back, breasts on display, pussy visible.

  “Slaves go on the furniture only with permission,” he said.

  She bowed her head.

  “I called your boyfriend,” he said. “He’s on the way.”

  Cameron’s eyes lit with panic. She moaned her protest, shaking her head.

  “You’re not good enough,” he said flatly.

  Compared to what? Cameron wanted to scream. To obnoxious little Rachel? What a joke!

  Victor took off the gag. Her jaw muscles screamed in agony but she spoke anyway. “I’ll only leave him again,” she said. “You know it’s true.”

  “I don’t doubt you would try,” Victor acknowledged. “And that’s why I am ordering you to stay with him.”

  Cameron’s brow furrowed. Now what was he up to?

  “You say you belong to me? Then you’ll do as I say. You will give yourself body and soul to Craig, you will bear his children, you will obey him as you do me.”

  “But…but this isn’t fair,” she protested.

  Victor laughed, sending an icy sweet chill down her spine. “Slavery isn’t about being fair, my dear. It’s about pain and sacrifice.”

  “I will sacrifice, I will do it for you, I will suffer. Treat me like Chloe, keep me on tender hooks like Veronica, I don’t care.”

  He smiled now, and she knew she was beat. She didn’t understand the man’s thinking and she never would. Women were pawns to him, life a game. “I already have a Veronica and a Chloe,” he said. “Why would I duplicate? I would be a poor collector, wouldn’t I? And where is the challenge in doing the same thing over and over? I’ve made so many kinds of slaves, but I have never had a woman so devoted to me as to marry another in my name.”

  Cameron regarded him with horror. “You’re a monster.”

  “Yes, but you already knew that. Now here are my instructions. When you leave here you will never contact me or anyone at the club again. You will marry Craig and practice whatever BDSM the two of you choose but you’ll never, ever cheat. I hope you understand, this command lasts a lifetime.”

  “But if you never see me how will you know I’ve obeyed?”

  His eyes danced, liquid, alien and ice blue, the wolf at play. “That is what makes it interesting, isn’t it?”

  Cameron shook her head. “I don’t understand this, any of it.”

  “Stand up,” he said.

  She did so, drawn by the sound of his voice, the solemnity, the surprising warmth.

  He gathered her bound body in his arms. “I love you, Cameron, I believe I can say that now. I probably won’t say it again to anyone else. You are mine forever I own you, I have taken you. We hold this between us, your degradation, the pain you endured, the secrets you revealed. You’re my slut, Cameron, and in an odd way, my queen. Do not disappoint me…ever.”

  Cameron shook with the release, fulfillment and denial all at once, unspeakable joy…and unshakable tragedy. “Master,” she said.

  “Slave,” he replied…and that was all.

  Epilogue

  Dr. Cameron Blaine-Bennett looked up from her desk surprised to see the young man standing there.

  “Professor, excuse me,” he said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Nonsense,” she said with a smile. “These are my office hours, aren’t they, and my office door was open, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, looking way too serious for a twenty one year old college junior.

  “Sit down,” said Cameron. “I’m all ears.”

  He hesitated. “May I…may I close the door.”

  “Of course,” she said, more intrigued than ever.

  The student in question was named Isaiah. He was a transfer from another university. For the last three weeks he had been auditing her undergraduate class on Human Sexuality, a scaled down version of her favorite graduate level offering, Alternate Sexuality. Her mentor Professor Myles had taught her much of what she knew in the field. He was retired now, living on a golf course in Florida of all places.

  Isaiah shut the door gingerly and sat d
own n the wooden armchair across from Cameron’s desk. She moved aside the stack of papers she had been grading, waiting for him to begin.

  “Is that your family?” he asked noticing the picture of the handsome salt and pepper haired man and the twin fourteen year old girls, all three of them wearing yellow slickers from their boat trip underneath Niagara Falls last spring.

  Hard to believe she and Craig had been together so long. She still got a tingle down her spine when she thought of him, not to mention what it did to her body.

  Unconsciously, she shifted in her seat, all too aware of the chastity belt, the light chain one. It was delicate enough for her to break, though she never would.

  She loved him too much.

  Besides she was a slave.

  Not that anyone would ever suspect.

  “Yes, my husband and children,” she said. “But you aren’t here to talk about me.”

  He sighed, staring at his hands. “Not exactly, no, although it has to do with you.”

  “Do tell,” she said.

  “To begin with,” said the fair haired Isaiah. “I didn’t come here by accident.”

  What piercing eyes he had, thought Cameron. Only one person in the world had eyes like that…

  “None of us do,” Cameron quipped.

  He sighed again. “You knew my mother, I think. Her name was Rachel Falcon.”

  Rachel, the blonde hair, the button nose, the stunning good looks, of course.

  But why talk of her in the past tense?

  “I knew a Rachel when I was in graduate school. She was in her early twenties, surely she’s not…”

  “Dead? Yes, last year, she was struck by a car.”

  “Dear god,” Cameron whispered.

  “My father, he…he took it hard.”

  Cameron’s heart froze in her chest. Did she dare ask? Would it violate that vow of long ago, that pledge to the man who would ever be her master though they would never see each other?

  “His name,” said Cameron. “Is it…Victor?”

  The young man nodded. “He loved my mother, though he never told her. Isn’t that a strange thing? He supported my mother and me throughout my growing up, he paid for school, visited me regularly.”

  “So you didn’t live with him?”

  “No, as soon as my mother became pregnant he sent her away, fully funded, of course. He gave her everything she ever wanted—except for him.”

  Cameron tried to picture Victor’s torment. He was not a bad man. He would never turn his back on flesh and blood. But a live in slave with a child, no, that would never have done.

  “And where is he now?” said Cameron, no longer caring for her vows or his. “Your father, I mean?”

  “Oh, he is gone, too.”

  The world fell out from Cameron, the way it does when you realize something is now forever out of reach, something which you never really had in the first place but which somewhere in the back of your mind, you imagined you might one day stumble across, quite by accident, when least expected.

  “I’m sorry,” said the young man. “You seem shocked.”

  Cameron forced a smile. “We were…friends, a long time ago. Tell me, how did he die?”

  The young man stared at his hands again.

  “No,” she changed her mind. “I don’t need to know.”

  She always had asked too many questions where Victor was concerned. It was one of the reasons he had sent her away.

  Although she had come to realize over the years it had way more to do with her than him.

  He wanted her happy, fulfilled, with a normal life, whatever that looked like.

  Relieved, Isaiah continued. “My father left a very detailed will, a lot of his instructions can’t really be enforced, of course…”

  Cameron smiled through the tears. Ever the dominant…

  “Among other things, he wanted me to know you, to come and study where you taught.”

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. “He knew where I was?”

  “Oh, yes, he followed your career. He had an entire folder of information. I never knew him to be so interested, quite honestly, in anyone. Certainly you’re the only one he kept track of like that.”

  Cameron tried to picture him watching over her all these years. Was he proud of her? Of course he was…

  “He had a lot of business interests, a lot of that will fall to me. He also had an interest in a club.”

  “I know of it,” said Cameron.

  “He left it to someone named Chloe. She’s been the manager there for years.”

  Good for her, thought Cameron. She’s finally coming into her own.

  “I know this is all pretty out there,” said Isaiah.

  Cameron laughed. “You have no idea. But it’s all right, and I am glad you are here. I knew your parents and I would be happy to tell you anything. The one thing I wonder about is why he wanted you to study with me? Do you have an interest in the field of human sexuality?”

  Isaiah cleared his throat. “In a way…”

  The clock ticked off several seconds on the wall. The damn thing always had been too loud.

  “Isaiah, I don’t know you,” she said. “And you don’t know me. But I know your father was a pretty good judge of people. He obviously thought I was someone you could trust and maybe could be of help.”

  Isaiah blinked those beacon eyes of his. He must be knocking off the girls left and right, she thought.

  “I’m not normal,” he told her.

  “Are any of us?” she retorted.

  He frowned. “I have…fantasies.”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s what we do with them.”

  He laughed nervously. “Oh, I’m not sure there is much to be done.”

  “You let me be the judge,” Cameron said.

  “I can’t be with a girl in a regular way,” he said. “I have to picture her tied up.”

  “It’s called bondage,” she said. “Although I am sure you know the word.”

  “Yes, but that’s not all. I think about doing things to girls, things I wouldn’t dare say.”

  Cameron suppressed a smile. The apple clearly did not fall far from the tree. “You mean BDSM?”

  “Yes, I have pornography that shows girls being whipped, chained.”

  “And you would like to do that to your partners?”

  He nodded.

  “You do realize there are girls who like that?”

  He seemed mildly surprised.

  “They are called submissives and you my friend are a dominant.”

  Isaiah said nothing.

  “There’s more,” Cameron guessed.

  “Sometimes I imagine owning women,” he said. “I go to pet stores. I look at the leashes, Professor, and the collars. I see the cages and I think of girls in them, me putting them there, making them crawl on their hands and knees. I get hard thinking of my dates eating from bowls on the floor. Surely that can’t be right?”

  It was Cameron’s turn to clear her throat. “Exactly how much do you know about your father’s club?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “He shielded you pretty well, then.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I guess it’s up to me to tell you, then. There are cages there, Isaiah, at least there were. Chloe used to stay in one.”

  Isaiah looked like he was waiting for a punch line.

  “It is called lifestyle BDSM,” she said. “You can look it up in my graduate level textbook. The bottom line is whatever people play out, whatever they consent to is their own business.”

  He frowned the way a person does when they are entertaining life altering information. “No woman would want to live in a cage,” he said.

  “Maybe not forever,” Cameron conceded. “But for certain periods of time, yes, I think it’s possible. I’ve seen it.”

  “What about you?”

  Cameron’s mouth went dry. It had been a very long time since she had confronted a dominant other
than her own husband, let alone someone with the genetics of Victor Cabrini.

  “I’m sorry, Isaiah, I make it a policy not to discuss my personal life.”

  “But you have a picture of my family.”

  “Yes, obviously.”

  “Is your husband a dominant?”

  “Yes,” Cameron replied, in absolute violation of her own principles only moments ago stated.

  This is Victor’s son she told herself, I owe him that much.

  Or was it something more selfish? A prurient interest to feel just a tiny bit of connection to that long ago hand that had so ruled over her?

  “You submit to him?”

  “We have a private agreement, yes.”

  Isaiah sighed. “It would help me to know more…”

  “Only if you can promise to keep this confidential, can you?”

  “Yes. You have my word.”

  For some strange reason she believed him.

  Hopefully he had enough of his father in him and not so much of his mercurial mother.

  “I give my husband the right to control my body. I submit to him sexually as he wishes, when he wishes.”

  “And does he discipline you?”

  “He has rules for me, yes, some are serious and important, others are there just to make it clear who is the boss. For example, I cannot eat my afternoon snack without permission and he likes to pick out my clothes.”

  “What happens if you break a rule?”

  “He can put me over his knee,” she said. “Sometimes he will use his belt.”

  “What about bondage?”

  “Sometimes he likes me restrained for sex, other times just for his enjoyment.”

  “How do you handle things with kids around?”

  “We’re discrete. The twins have no idea and they never will.”

  “So you can’t go all out, you know, with cages or anything?”

  “It’s never been a part of our relationship, no.”

  “What if your husband wanted you in one?”

  “We would negotiate, I suppose.”

  “That doesn’t sound submissive.”

  “Every relationship is unique, it is whatever works, whatever feels right.”

  “I think I would want more control,” he said thoughtfully. “I would not want my submissive working or anything like that.”

  “I wish you luck finding one,” she said seriously.