Robert Taylor: Whipped bitch

Janey had again wrapped herself in the towels and sat, shivering, too exhausted from fighting the cold to care what happened to her.

In the bathtub, as heat penetrated to her bones, she fell asleep. She awoke when the Oriental, Akito, said, "Missy eat now."

Food! Her eyes opened wide. She was in an oval tub, in a bathroom without flat surfaces or corners, sort of egg-shaped. She barely recalled arriving here; like she had passed out in Mrs. Claymore's office. Seeing a rack of towels, she climbed out and wrapped herself in a huge, fluffy towel like a cloak. She smelled food.

Leaving the bathroom, she found a bedroom built like a dome. An overhead light with a glass bowl of varying colors cast rainbow hues on a low, very large bed to the left. A white vanity table faced a mirror beside the door, and to the right a table laden with food.

She forgot all else and pounced on it, seizing up a hot roll and stuffing it into her mouth, then roast beef and mashed potatoes. The platter of food was huge.

She wolfed down thick slabs of roast beef. That took the raw edge off her hunger. Curious about the room, she split a roll, stuffed beef into it, and ate the sandwich as she toured the place.

There were no closets and no dressers. Where would a person put their clothes? The vanity table drawer contained makeup and perfumes. The door, she found swung open easily, revealing a hall. There was no knob on the door, only a keyhole on the outside.

She returned to the table and gobbled down mashed potatoes. Then Mrs. Claymore came in.

She smiled on seeing how much Janey had eaten. "Precious, you must have been starving! Oh, the world outside is such a cruel place."

She was carrying a plastic bag containing what looked like ribbons of many colors, all tanged together.

"Do throw off that towel. The temperature is set at eighty degrees. You need no covering."

Janey obeyed, throwing the towel back over the chair.

Mrs. Claymore seemed all sweetness and light, sheer heaven after the horrible Orvil!

"You can finish your dinner later. It's not good to eat too heavily after what you've been through. First stand up and let me see what you look like without goose pimples."

Janey rose. Mrs. Claymore pursed her lips thoughtfully, nodded, signaled for her to turn around. Janey did.

"Janey, that luscious behind! The way it sticks out, my gracious. Very well, come over to the bed and I'll examine you."

There seemed no point in asking why. Janey felt helpless, yet so grateful to Mrs. Claymore that she would do anything she asked. She went to the bed. The woman sat on the edge, tossing the clear plastic bag of ribbons down, and patting a place beside her where Janey was to sit.

She sat with her legs together, arms crossed on her bare breasts.

"First your nipples, sweetheart." The woman nudged Janey's tits, tweaked her left nipple, then circled the areola with her finger. The caress was creamy soft and produced the intended result, a puffing of the large pink areola and the nipple protruding. "Lovely!" Mrs. Claymore murmured. "And pale pink, no makeup needed at all. Now spread your legs, darling, and show me your pussy."

Janey resisted. She looked, frightened, at the woman. But her smile was utterly reassuring. Janey exposed her blonde pubic fluff. She saw Mrs. Claymore pinch hairs and rub them.

"Silky," she murmured. "Now lie back, darling, so I can examine your cunt."

Trembling now, frightened, Janey felt fingertips as soft as butter rove the hairy outer lips of her cunt. She plucked at hairs, lifting, then squeezed the lips together. Janey felt a touch of fire as the woman fingered her clit. A moan, half fear and half pleasure, escaped her lips.

"Your clitoris is that sensitive?" Mrs. Claymore asked.

Janey nodded.

Fingers roved down her slit and suddenly were inside her vagina, wriggling about most sensuously. Janey gasped. The feel of it was exquisite!

"Juicy," Mrs. Claymore said. "Janey, you're a wet cunted little darling, and I do adore you. Really, you arouse my lust. Did you ever have a woman lap your pussy?"

Janey was shocked on hearing that. She tried to rise, but then the fingers slithering about in her cunt got to her and she did not want to rise. She fell back. The question – lap her? Marcia. Back home, she and Marcia had been in bed together a few times.

"Yes," she choked.

"I'm glad for that. And you're no virgin. Have you been fucked many times?"

"Well…"

"A terribly blunt question on my part. Tell me about yourself, Janey, why you left home – your loves – everything. While I decide if I'll go down on your luscious pussy or not. Tell me."

Lying there, her pussy turning to warm jelly under the woman's voluptuous caresses, Janey began to talk.

Her life had never seemed as simple as when she reduced it to essentials for Mrs. Claymore. Probably the hunger, cold, and despair of the past days helped her slough off unimportant details.

Her father was tyrannical, an autocrat who thought females should be seen and not heard. Clearly he had driven her to rebellion in high school, to wild friends, marijuana, and experimentation with sex. And the night he found Frank Wallis fucking her on the living-room couch – well, she had welcomed it, a final break, and in mid-winter she had escaped from home, hitchhiking toward the sunny Southland.

"And that is all past," Mrs. Claymore said, suavely caressing Janey's cunt. "Your experience with Orvil is past. You are safe now, warm and well fed."

"You're so good to me," Janey sighed.

"I hope you will come to love me, Janey. But in return I must have obedience."

"Anything!" Lying there, squirming beneath the unbearable tease of those fingertips slipping in and out of her vagina, up her slit to squeeze her swollen clit to spasms of excitement, then back down again, her mood was ecstatic. She wanted to hug Mrs. Claymore in gratitude but the word obedience stilled her, made her realize that she must be passive until the woman told her otherwise.

"You won't enjoy everything," she was told. "Not at first. Have faith in me and it will turn out beautifully."

"What do I have to do?"

"To obey and not ask questions!" Mrs. Claymore said sharply. "In a moment, will explain. But first…"

She got off the bed, knelt on the floor between Janey's legs and bent down to her gaping cunt.

The tongue lash was a streak of moist heat that made Janey fling her legs apart, frog-fashion. She looked down and saw the woman's blonde hair above her own tawny pubic muff. Then lips slithered to her clit and sucked the hot little nubbin.

"Ahhhh! Oh, so hot, so good!"

"Beg me to lap you, Janey."

"Oh, yes, please lick my cunt, lap me! I love it!"

Again her clit was sucked, and she began thrashing, screwing around, rubbing her ass on the bed as she fought her way into a cum. The flat of the woman's tongue now swabbed her slit, and when it coiled up into her cunt, her entire belly quaked, convulsed into orgasm.

"Ahh-hh!" Janey cried. "I'm going to cum!"

The tongue left her.

Mrs. Claymore rose, gazed down at Janey thrashing about the bed, hips jerking as she tried to regain the peak of her cum.

"Please!" Janey cried. "I'm almost there, please lap me over the hump!"

The woman opened the plastic bag. She said quietly, "I must begin your lesson in obedience."

From the bag, she drew a tangle of rainbow colors. She shook them out, and Janey saw eight or nine thin strands, each a different color, attached to a handle. Several knots in each strand. Mrs. Claymore held up the handle for her to see. It appeared to be limber plastic, about eight inches long, in the form of an erect cock. She grasped Janey's leg to hold her still and placed the handle of the whip in the mouth of her cunt.