Susanna Valent - The Principal - A Novel of Lesbian Love

Cackling gleefully, I applied the seat of my pants to the chair in front of my computer all night, grateful all out of proportion to Lynn Jeffries who would have been horrified had she known about any of this.

Even so, I still allowed myself to be distracted by thoughts of having her again soon. I fantasized about unmasking her, which was unacceptable, or unmasking myself, and wishing for some sort of deus ex machina ending that would allow us to be revealed without any sort of penalty. In other words, unlike anything that ever happened in real life.

Thanks to my writing and my personal fantasies, the week flew and Friday night I was early to work. I was in such a good mood, sure I would see my new lover, that I tried out some new pieces of bondage equipment on a couple of my usual subs who had been begging for more for weeks, but I myself hadn't been ready. I thought, “What if Lynn wants this? I had better be prepared.” So I practiced on them for her. I did everything for her that night, but she didn't appear.

I was disappointed and Beverly noticed. Even so, she was hardly sympathetic. “In the unlikely event she realized this isn't for her, at least you don't have to worry about a conflict of interest. You don't need that kind of grief,” she counseled.

“I'll try to remember that,” I said, hoping I sounded philosophical. But what I thought was, Easy for you to say.

Saturday evening, when I arrived at the dungeon, I saw that my last hour had already been reserved. Lolita!

I went to my locker to dress and found I was so breathless at the thought of loving her again that I had to sit down. I decided to practice on every sub again, the way I had the previous night. I forced myself through my usual routine of dressing in my costume, and decided as I did so that as long as I could possibly avoid it, I would not come until I was with Lynn. No, I warned myself, Lolita. It would be disastrous if her name slipped out.

Nipple clamps were my next thought. They don't have to be painful, just present to get the wearer's attention. I put the lightest pair in my pocket. None of my usual subs would even have noticed them, so I put heavier, weighted ones in my other pockets, along with clothespins, which I personally hate, but I do it. I have to.

Into my other pockets went handcuffs, a buttplug or two, dildoes and a ball gag. Everything I used had to be properly disinfected between clients. One of the things we sold along with anonymity was safe sex. I should probably have used a dental dam when demanding oral sex from Lolita, but I felt I knew her well enough to dispense with it. All the more reason to look forward to being with her. But for everyone else, all safety procedures had to be followed.

I went to the full-length mirror at the end of the locker room. Everything had to be perfect, everything in place for the demanding, the exacting, Dr. Lynn Jeffries. I saluted myself and went out.

I had a big, black woman under me when Lolita came in and sat in the first row of the bleachers. She was becoming bolder. I was glad, since I had yet to really accept her in my mind as a submissive. I think I was hoping at that point that one day, ultimately, we would be able to switch.

I ignored her, of course, although I knew she was watching me hungrily, and that realization made me sweat. I closed my eyes behind my glasses and pretended my African-American Amazon was Lolita. Slowly I drew out the woman's torture, making her beg and plead, refusing her and using her until she rolled off the sawhorses onto the floor and climaxed at my feet.

“MAJOR-MAJOR-MAJOR!” she howled as I permitted her to come.

I glanced down at her without a hint of emotion. “Whatever,” I said, and walked away.

Lolita's session would be private, of course. How could a woman who so carefully guarded every aspect of her life come in public, even if nobody knew who she was?

I had a few minutes during which to clean and prepare my equipment, and when I got to the door of the small room to which we had been assigned, she was waiting.

“Go,” I ordered, pointing with my crop.

She skittered into the room ahead of me, but the minute I shut the door, she fell to her knees and kissed my boots. I wanted to yank her up and kiss her, but understanding she needed to do this, I stood with my hands on my hips and looked down at her bobbing head, wishing I could run my hands through her soft black curls instead of the synthetic strands of wig hair.

“All right, that's enough for now,” I said, prodding her with my crop. I walked across the room. “Take your clothes off and crawl over here to the couch. On your belly."

She did it. She tore off the trashy fake mohair sweater and the velveteen skirt that more or less went with it. Her underwear was nice, though, some sort of ecru, silky stuff. I wouldn't have minded if she had left it on, but she threw it aside and slithered toward me. Her ass was perfection, creamy globes kept tight from some sport or other. Jazzercise? Tennis? She was so graceful and controlled at work, I could imagine she was a dancer.

She rested her cheek against my boot and waited. She was panting hard, and I wanted so much for her to love me.

“Kneel so I can reach you, slut,” I murmured, and when she was upright, I tipped her head back and took her in a kiss. I could tell she was startled because a slight gasp of surprise escaped before she surrendered, and gladly, sagging in my arms as though defenseless before me. Normally I would never have kissed a sub. Not only was it too intimate and too egalitarian, it was dangerous for health reasons. Again, I knew this woman. If anyone was safe to kiss, it was Lynn Jeffries. No germ would have dared get on her.

I luxuriated in the taste of her. She was the epitome of everything I found perfect in womankind. She was brilliant, successful and attractive. She lacked only for intimacy, I knew that already. I was sure if loved properly, her heart would open and allow her to love in return. I thought I had the answer to that problem, too, and then she really would be perfect. And mine.

“Oh, Lolita,” I murmured, pulling back. “I am gonna have some fun with you tonight."

She looked up at me. “That's what I want, Major. I want to please you. That would be fun for me."

“Then let's try these,” I said, showing her the clips.

“Will they hurt?"

“Does it matter?” I countered.

She swallowed. “No."

I grinned. “Good girl. Come up here,” I patted the couch.

Hesitantly she rose and obeyed. I looked at her thoughtfully. “I'd really like to be able to see your eyes, Lolita. It would help me tell if and when you might really be afraid or in pain. May I?"

She recoiled. “I'm afraid of being recognized. Do I have to?"

“No,” I said gently. “Maybe you'll just think about it for some other time.” I reached out and began to stroke her nipples lightly. She shuddered and the delightful brown nubs hardened.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, squirming. I leaned over her and sucked each one, not too hard, just to get them totally erect, and as she writhed under my touch, I very delicately applied the clamps and screwed them down just enough to stay on. She looked at them.

“Don't touch,” I warned. “I want those on for the whole hour."

“Yes, Major,” she nodded. She bit her lip and reached for her crotch.

I grabbed her hand. “Oh, no you don't.” I pulled out the handcuffs and easily turned her around to secure her wrists. “Lie on your back over my lap, Lolita, and bring your arms up over your head and out of my way."

With a sigh, she lay back and opened her legs even though I had not yet required it.

I stroked her bush lightly. It was soaking already. “Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you now?” I growled.