Subculture by Sarah Veitch Page B

take off his thick leather belt.
    Please, not your belt, she entreated inside her head.
    Yes, angel, it’s for your own good. It’ll make you better.
    But I’m not ill, she parried.
    Sweetheart, your pussy is all hot and feverish. It’s really sick.
    Groaning at the images, Lisa positioned the mock phallus at her soaking rim. It went in easy. She switched the base on to its first speed, knowing that she wouldn’t need any more. That paddling and Michael’s teasing words had taken her to the edge and kept her there for an unbearable period. Now it would take so little to make her come.
    Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The smooth thickness oscillated inside her lubricated void, filling it with increasing rapture. The tiny movements thrilled through her tummy, her inner thighs, her swollen folds. She was almost there. Master I beg to come. That inner voice again. But do you deserve to come? asked her Master. Have you been an obedient little girl? She pictured his hands brushing lightly over her quivering rump as if he owned it. Or have you been a bad young slave who needs to be stripped and tied and whipped?
    â€˜Aaaaah!’ Lisa moaned as the orgasmic surge shot through. She put her free hand to her mouth to stifle her cries of elation. Kept her right hand on the vibrator’s handle, holding the machine right in. Her paddled cheeks buffed against the cover as she pushed down and down and down to force out the last of the sweetness. Long moments later she switched off the sex toy and withdrew it gingerly from her satiated core.
    Sleepily, she turned over onto her tummy. She wondered what Michael was doing now. Hoped dazedly that he’d been forced to use some vibrating mechanical vagina. Could you buy such an object? He’d doubtlessly know. He knew how to secure the best mock phalluses, how to effectively lay on a paddle. Knew how to take a previously sensible egalitarian woman to the very limits of disciplined desire.
    To her limits and beyond? Lisa drifted towards sleep. She knew that if he’d kissed her after the thrashing she would have responded with the kind of ardour she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager. She’d felt the level of lust she’d felt as a seventeen year old petting in the backseat of some boyfriend’s father’s van. If he’d only held her and stroked her hair and moved his hands down to her sexual centre... But she wouldn’t plead for his caresses, and Michael had said he’d only make love to her if she begged.

Chapter Seven
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    She was an engaged woman - she had to concentrate on thoughts of her fiance, and of her work. Shakily, Lisa walked to her new Consultation Suite. It was four whole days since Michael had brought her to a shrieking and moaning orgasm with the vibrator. Four days of recalling the way the paddle had singed her helpless cheeks. The herbalist felt the traitorous frissons snake through her groin at the memory. She had to forget.
    She was grateful that Michael hadn’t referred to the incident again. At dinner each night since he’d been the genial if slightly formal host, making sure that everyone was well fed and catered for. Not one of the assembled staff had been spanked or teased or stripped.
    Now Lisa was to meet him for a chat before her first patient - and afterwards to see if he agreed with what she diagnosed.
    â€˜Morning,’ she said as he sauntered in. She tried to look nonchalant. Admitted inwardly that she’d felt so much more in control in Scarborough on familiar ground.
    â€˜Any clues from the case notes?’ Michael Landers asked. Lisa told him what she thought then held her breath until he nodded. ‘That’s what I figured,’ he murmured, looking pleased.
    â€˜When I see the full answers to my questionnaire I should be able to make a more firm diagnosis,’ Lisa added.
    â€˜Indeed. I’ve found that the same complaints crop up time and time again.’ The doctor