Susanna Valent - The Principal - A Novel of Lesbian Love

“You can do anything… anything you want,” she replied. Her ass ground into my crotch and I put my hand in her thatch to hold her down harder, tighter, against me.

“I'm going to use you for my own pleasure, and you're not going to come unless you please me for the whole hour. Understand?"

“Mmmm… mmmmm,” she moaned, biting her lips. “Please… use me,” she begged. Her hips moved as if of their own accord.

I slid my fingers inside her. She was so open already that I got three in without any trouble.

“Oh, please!” she screamed. “Touch my clit!"

“You demanding little bitch!” I laughed. I pulled out, stood up, and all but dumped her on the floor, although I would never have allowed her to be hurt.

“Lick my pussy, slut,” I demanded. Since her hands were secured, I had to open my own pants, but the minute I sat back down she was on me, and in me, and I let her have me.

I had held back from coming all night. I didn't hold back another minute. I took hold of that stupid wig and held her head in my crotch and just let her eat me. The build-up was quick, and I was gushing juices. She lapped at me frantically, just what I would expect from a submissive who never has a chance to perform. She held nothing back from me, and I could tell she was starting to let go and trust, although her wig and glasses were a pain. I had an idea about those, though.

Not that I was actually thinking at that point. I was a lot more interested in filling up my sub with my come, and in a very short time, that was precisely what I did. The spasms tore through me and I groaned with pleasure, remembering just in time not to yell, “Lynn!” and it was very hard. I wanted so badly to do that.

I shoved her back, because I wanted to be able to come again before the hour was up. I pushed her onto her back, rested my boot in her crotch and she began to rub herself on it.

“Slowly, Lolita. You don't have permission to come."

“Oh, I know. Don't let me come yet,” she begged, her voice dreamy. She pressed herself against the sole of my boot, moving slowly, gasping with need.

“Not a chance, slave,” I told her. She wasn't my slave, really. Not yet, anyway, but subs love to hear dominants talk like that.

“Please, I was so bad this week. Punish me,” she whispered.

“Tell me about how bad you were,” I instructed, waiting to get over the aftershocks of the pleasure she had given me.

“I was… mean to my staff,” she began.

I almost laughed. I knew that was a lie, for a change. “Mean in what way?"

She seemed to be considering. “I made them wait for me while I masturbated. I thought about you and I held up the staff meeting until I came and cleaned myself up.” She pressed tighter against my boot and just held still.

“You were definitely bad, Lolita. Get up and lean over the stool. I want you so your breasts are hanging free and you can feel the weight of the clamps pulling on them."

Silently she rose and went to the stool where she carefully leaned over until she was arranged as I had required. She was so short that her feet didn't quite touch the floor and I could tell she was uncomfortable. Too bad.

“How long did you make your staff wait for you, Lolita?” I asked. I had my crop out now and I was tracing the cheeks of her ass with it.

“Fifteen minutes,” she grunted. “I came twice."

“Then I'll give you 15 lashes, and if you take them well, you can come once,” I decided.

“Fifteen?” she shrieked, but the descending crop cut her off.

I wasn't hitting her that hard. Sure, it stung, because if it didn't, the sub didn't reach “subspace,” that mental condition in which pain and pleasure couldn't possibly be separated. Some subs could climax just from being whipped. You didn't even have to touch them. But I would touch Lolita.

She was wailing when I got to ten, so I stopped and left her over the stool while I went for some lotion for her bottom. Part of the deal was not only pain, but also caretaking, yet another form of control. I applied the lotion liberally and smoothed it on slowly while she panted with relief.

Then her wig fell off.

I had hoped it would. Being head-down in that position long enough, and sweating, gravity would have its way. With a yelp of surprise, she grabbed at it with her manacled hands, and her glasses dropped off, too.

Rather than returning the items to her, I helped her slide back to an upright position. She buried her face in my shoulder. “Please don't look,” she begged.

“All right, I won't, but you have the loveliest hair,” I remarked, running my fingers through it gently. “I'll take your cuffs off and turn away and you can put this stuff back on, if you want, okay? Then we'll continue."

She nodded and I did as I had promised. I wished I could have seen her eyes, but it wasn't as if I had never seen them.

“All right,” she announced, and when I looked, only the glasses were in place.

I must have looked surprised because she said, “Well, you've already seen my real hair, and the wig is hot. I can put it on before I go back out there,” she nodded at the door.

“I won't tell anyone about your crowning glory,” I told her. “Now, get down on your knees. I need a shine."

“Yes, Major,” she agreed quickly, kneeling.

I'm sure she thought I meant for her to shine my boots with polish, but I had a better idea. I brought a chair and a footstool, of which there were several of varying heights in the room. Putting my foot on the stool brought my combat boot to the level of her crotch. “Shine it,” I ordered.

“Wh-with what?” she asked, absolutely baffled.

“Your twat,” I snarled, “and if I don't like the way it looks, you'll lick it off."

She was on the boot in a heartbeat, maybe less. She was a small woman, but she packed a wallop in that hard, trim body. She grabbed onto my thigh and rode me like a real rodeo star. It took about six seconds for me to wet myself again as she squished her hot little quim all over my boot. I wondered if she might break my leg with her efforts, but her balance was excellent.

“Oh, God, oh, please, Major, let me come,” she whimpered.

“Not yet,” I told her. “I want you to shine both of them, so you had better slow down."

She did, looking up at me, all but worshipping me. I crossed my arms and scowled down at her, but then I relented and caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “Slowly, sub. Make it last. And I want you between my legs before you come. Remember that."

She grunted with effort, changing boots at my command, and finally when I felt her pulling back, I knew she had had all she could take.

“Eat me, you cunt,” I said, my voice a low growl, and I felt her shudder.

I leaned back and raised my feet so she could get into my crotch, and then I rested my boots on her back while she went down on me. My hands were finally in those soft curls I had so longed to touch, and I let her finish me off twice before I permitted her to raise her head and breathe.

“You love it, don't you, my slut?” I demanded when I could breathe again. “All right, get on my boots. I know you want it."

“I want it, I want it so badly,” she agreed, her perfect grammar never deserting her even under this much duress.

“Fuck my leather,” I commanded, and I grabbed her hands and held her in place so she would have more freedom of movement.

Hanging onto me, depending on me, she squirmed down hard with all her strength, bouncing and groaning in desperation. Lolita's release was explosive, and she cried out and sagged, but I held her up and jiggled my foot so that she came again and again until she slumped bonelessly to the floor.

I devoured her presence, feeling strong and protective and utterly in her control, all appearances to the contrary. After a few minutes, she crept to my feet and began to softly lick my boots.