Chapter 7
"Now I'll find out if you wear panties or not," I said. "I do."
"What's that? Stop mumbling, Martha. Speak up!"
"I do wear panties," she said.
"Do you indeed? We'll see ... lift up your dress."
She leaned over, took hold of the hem of her dress, and pulled it up her legs, up to the tops of her thighs.
She wore a pair of functionally plain white cotton panties. But not even bikini style panties these were cut full and wide.
"Higher, Martha. Lift your dress higher. I want to see."
Martha pulled the front of her dress up to her waist. She was slim with a flat belly whose navel was an inward bellybutton.
The panties were a size or two too big, and hung loosely on her lean hips. She stood with her feet touching and her legs closed.
"Turn around, Martha ... show me your back your bottom."
Her drooping head hung a little lower, a bit more downcast, as she obeyed.
I leaned forward in the chair where I sat, in my studio apartment, the place where I had taken Martha when the work day was done.
All afternoon the girl squirmed and sighed in apprehension of the day's end, when she would come totally under my disciplinary power.
But the prospect excited and aroused her, too. I could tell. Sometimes I surprised her sitting at her desk, chin resting on her hand as she stared out into space, an anxious little dreamy smile on her mouth.
I would allow her to daydream for a moment or two, then would move into the range of her gaze and scowl or stare icily at her.
At that, she would become flustered and confused, and squirm in her seat.
Just to remind her of my power over her, not because I felt she would try to elude me at the day's end, I spoke to her at 4:45.
Just fifteen minutes remained of the work day. I came up from behind Martha, and when my shadow fell on her sketching pad, she. flinched.
"Don't even think about leaving at five," I murmured. "I wasn't."
"Better not."
The day ended. The department staff gathered up their personal belongings, put on their coats, said their cordial goodbyes.
Martha continued to stay at her work table, hunched over a drawing board in an attitude of intense concentration.
But it was all just a pose, since she drew not a line on the paper, nor could she have, not with the way her hand shook.
I was ready to leave, but I lingered at my desk for close to a half-hour, taking advantage of the opportunity to polish off some paperwork.
The work easily could have waited until tomorrow, but I wanted to keep Martha waiting, so the suspense could work on her nerves.
An over-active imagination sometimes is the worst torment of all, especially to a timid and particularly imaginative girl such as Martha.
I knew she kept glancing at me, peeping at me, trying to discern some idea of my true nature from the way I looked.
I let her look, and pretended to studiously ignore her.
When I felt she had waited long enough, I got up, filed the paperwork, taking my time, and finally gathered up my pocketbook and coat.
I went to her: "Let's go, Martha."
Silently she trailed after me like a little puppy dog, down the elevator, out the lobby, and into the back of the cab I hailed.
I swept Martha straight from the office to my place.
As the cab idled at a red light, I said, "I hope nobody is expecting you for dinner or anything like that, Martha."
"No...."
"You didn't have to cancel any dates, hmmmm?"
"I, uh, don't date...."
"What? No dates?" I lifted an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Don't tell me a pretty little thing like you doesn't have plenty of boyfriends!"
"No, I don't go out with boys "
I laughed, then patted her on the knee. "No, I'm sure you don't, Martha."
The cab took us down to the Village. Martha waited anxiously on the sidewalk while I paid off the cabbie.
She stood with her shoulders hunched, as though expecting a blow to fall. Her hands were held in front of her, their long sensitive fingers interknotted.
The cabbie drove off and I marched Martha to my apartment. She jerked when I closed the door behind us and locked and bolted us in.
"So here we are, Martha ... here you are."
I licked my lips. "Give me your coat." I took her plain little coat from her and hung up it and my own in the front closet.
Later there would be time for dinner, for other, nonsexual diversions....
Later.
Now, I said, "Put down your bag. Just put it on the couch. Come to me."
I stood in the center of the floor, waiting with my hands on my hips. Martha was only a few years younger than me chronologically, but mentally I was years and years ahead of her, and had the psychological edge on her from the start.
I went around the room, closing the curtains and pulling down the shades. I switched on the lamp at the far side of the room.
It was night outside, and the lone wan lamp kept the place in shadows, which made it make look bigger than it really was, and added immensely to the mood.
When all the windows were opaque with curtains, I returned to Martha. That's when I demanded that she lift her dress. She had done as I commanded. I sat down on the armchair adjacent to the fold-out couch time enough later to transform couch into bed.
I leaned forward and raised the rear of Martha's dress myself.
"Come closer." I pulled her near. Her backside was inches from my face.
I bunched up her skirt in the back, exposing her pantied bottom.
Her skirt was long, ankle-length, with many folds of fabric. I bunched them and held them at her waist with one hand.
Martha had a beautiful bottom. Generally, she was thin skinny but she had a swelling bosom and a gorgeous rounded ass.
Her breasts I would more closely examine later. But her bottom was right in front of my face now, the milky buttocks jiggling as "she trembled.
Trembled with wanting.
"So you do wear panties!" I said. "Not especially pretty ones, either ... what's the matter, Martha? Don't you like pretty things touching the softest, most intimate parts of your anatomy? These plain panties aren't very exciting...."
"I do like them ... but I don't have a lot of money to spend on luxuries like that, not when I can barely pay the rent!"
"Yes, Martha, knowing how little you're paid, I can imagine that....
I let the skirt drop down, put my hands on her hips, and turned her so that she once more faced me as I leaned back in my chair. I said, "Take off your clothes." She stared at me, her face reddening. "Now, Martha! Take off your blouse first." Still she hesitated, her eyes flashing. "I'm very short of patience, little girl. If you make me go to the trouble of stripping those clothes off you, I'll take it out on your hide!
"I'll whip your bare ass until you scream, Martha! Don't play with me, missy!"
Martha decided not to tempt her fate, which is just as well, since I'm no sadist and could never bring myself to whip such a sweet creature as she.
But dominating the docile girl was, well, very arousing to me.
With Billie I generally took a more passive role, though hardly submissive. But Martha was a confirmed submissive type.
This I knew from some of the descriptions Billie had detailed to me.
Now, I had fibbed when I stated that Billie had requested that I oversee Martha in her absence, since she had made no such request.
But I was sure that she would have approved of what I was doing, since it would lay the groundwork for delightful games for we three.
In the future. For now, I had Martha all to myself.
She stripped off her blouse, revealing the white nylon bra, plain and unadornedly functional as the panties she wore.
She had nice apple-shaped breasts, full and rounded, firm, looking more lush than one might expect from a girl of her overall slightness.
The points of her nipples jutted against the nylon cups.
Martha left her bra on while she took off her shoes. She fumbled with the catch of her skirt, took it off, and stood there in bra and panties.
She stood there staring straight ahead, hands at her sides, breasts rising and falling, bobbing with her shallow gasping breaths.
I took her blouse and skirt and folded them neatly. I rose and walked in back of her and unhooked her bra.
"Take your bra off and give it to me, Martha."
She did.
Her breasts had sharply pointed nipples which were a bright shocking pink in color, and ringed by aureoles the size of dimes, very small aureoles indeed.
I deposited her bra on top of the pile of her garments, which I set down on the coffee table, leaving my hands free.
She was unhappy with her partial nudity, and had coyly folded her arms over her breasts so the nipples were hidden.
The way her arms were held also plumped up her breasts.
"What are you doing, Martha?"
"Nothing...."
"Nothing? You're touching yourself do you call that nothing? Do you think it's funny to play with yourself right under my nose?"
"I'm not playing with myself!"
"You're playing with your titties, Martha, you bad girl!"
"Really, I wasn't! I was just covering them!"
"Why? Little girl, you don't have anything that I haven't seen before!"
I took hold of her wrists and pulled her arms down to her sides.
I said, "Oh ho, what have we here?"
Her nipples were both stiffly erect. I tweaked one, rolling it in my fingers.
"What do you call this, Martha, this stiff nipple?"
Before she could reply, I said, "I call you a very naughty girl, miss! But I know how to keep those hands out of trouble."
From around my neck, I took the floppy kerchief which adorned my gray silk blouse, unknotting the big bow which pressed my breasts.
I still wore the identical outfit I had worn at work, since I had not even bothered to change in the time that I had come home.
I took hold of her hands and pulled them behind her back. I knew she could deal with light bondage Billie had told me that.
I crossed her wrists and bound her hands with the kerchief, fitting its strands snugly but far from painfully around her wrists.
I sat back down on the chair and summoned her.
"Get over my lap, Martha!"
"Oh, wait just a minute, please-"
"Now, Martha. Bend forward and I'll help you down there, I've got you!"
I put her over my lap in proper spanking position. It was a kinky contrast between my prim and proper, lady-like outfit, with its crisp lines contrasting with her near-total nudity very exciting contrast.
Through my skirt, through my pantyhose, I could feel her body heat.
She sighed with surrender, her head hanging low, eyes closed.
She whimpered, "Oh! What are you doing?! "
"Taking down your panties, Martha."
"Must you?"
The way she spoke, it was clear that she wanted exactly that.
"Yes, Martha, I must. I spank only on the bare."
Down her panties came, as I rolled them to a line of white fabric positioned well below the tops of her thighs.
That way, in addition to the pinkish-white moons of her buttocks, her precious little silky pussy also was exposed to me.
In the dimness between her legs, I saw the tufted mound of her bush.
Mouth-watering precious little pussy, soon to be mine!
Mine now, ripe and ready for the taking, just like the rest of her.
But Martha had certain very definite needs of which I was aware. She was too timid and inhibited to perform in bed without special preliminaries.
She must be dominated, so her haunted guilty conscience could be eased by the fiction that she had been "forced."
"What a spankable bottom you have, Martha! I'm sure Billie must have you across her lap constantly, for one reason or another!
"You do know why you are being punished, don't you, Martha?"
"Because I had a bad attitude at work ... was a bad girl."
"No."
"No?"
"You're being punished because it pleases me to do so."
Let her think about that one! But she wouldn't have much time to think, since I started spanking her bare rear with my hand.
Martha was a sensitive, high-strung girl, and all the suspense and the emotionalism of the situation had her nearly in tears before she was spanked.
She was in tears after the first few swats.
She wiggled on my lap. I held her tightly by the waist. Her bush rubbed my lap. Her bottom jiggled under my palm.
She cried out each time I spanked her--cries which were overdone, considering how mildly she really was spanked.
But, hand spanking or not, presently her buttocks glowed all rosy red and warm, and Martha sobbed freely and without restraint.
Tears of joy, for now that she was under the power of another name, me she was free to do all the sinfulness that her ordinarily inhibited nature never would permit. More than her bottom was hot.
I stopped spanking her. Her bound hands were clenched fists above a ripe bottom that warmly glowed with redness.
Her bare breasts pressed my thigh, jiggling and rubbing against it.
I stopped spanking her and stroked her, first her back, then her flanks.
When she didn't expect it, I slid my hand between her legs and touched her pussy.
"Ooh!"
"Hold still, Martha don't forget, darling, I still have you over my lap! I just want to, ah, inspect you more intimately...."
I stroked the delicate lips of her pussy, which quivered. I laid my finger lengthwise in the slit, where warm slippery moisture oozed.
"Why, Martha, you naughty girl, what have we were?"
"I I don't know...."
"We, or actually you, have a hot wet pussy."
"Oh!"
I slid my finger inside her. She was tight, her membranes hugging the finger.
"You need special treatment, Martha ... and so do I.
I took my finger out of her. It glimmered with sticky wetness. I wiped it clean on the full cheek of her spanked ass.
I eased her off my lap, so that she stood on her knees on the floor.
Her eyes were red and her face was wet with smeared tears. Her eyes shone. Her nipples stood out stiffly, rubbed more than a little red against my thigh when I spanked her..
Wetness shone on the tops of her breasts, where fallen tears had spattered. She sniffled and swallowed and hung her head.
"Look at me, Martha...."
When she lifted up her head, I took off my blouse.
I wore a sexy black lace bra, a potent visual stimulus which I knew excited her, since it contrasted with the no-nonsense under things she wore.
The lacy black cups hugged my breasts, where my stiff nipples were outlined.
I took off my shoes and skirt. Had Martha's hands been free, I would have made her undress me, with plenty of worship along the way.
But since her hands were tied, and behind her back, too, I would leave them that way for a while longer.
For what I wanted from her, she wouldn't need her hands anyway....
I pulled down my pantyhose to the tops of my thighs, sat my bare bottom on the armchair seat, and unrolled the pantyhose the rest of the way.
Now I was all naked, except for the bra which covered my breasts. But my pussy and bottom were nakedly exposed.
I sat forward on the chair, so that my buttocks perched on the edge of the seat. My feet were planted on the floor.
My thighs gaped open, knees spreading to the sides as I exposed my pussy.
I pointed a finger at it.
Martha's wide-eyed, moist gaze fastened on the finger which imperiously pointed out the pussy she was due to serve.
Her gaze was still locked on the finger, as I raised it from my slit and crooked it to beckon her in a gesture of command.
Her breasts bobbed as she shuffled forward on her knees.
When she was close enough, I put my hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her face so that it pressed down on my naked crotch.
"Worship," I commanded.
Martha was seized with an intense passion. She was a girl of very strong desires under that quiet exterior.
Freed when under domination, she could indulge those passions to the full.
Hot kisses rained down on my pussy. Her face, wet with shed tears, smeared wetness on the smooth insides of the thighs.
When she had sufficiently kissed my pussy, I put her tongue to work.
The shy, soft-spoken little creature who worked away quiet as a mouse in her corner of the office workroom, would hardly be recognized in this hot little submissive toy who passionately kissed, then licked my pussy.
When she licked the outside of the pussy enough, I pushed harder on the back of her head, so that her mouth ground into my slit.
Pussy lips spread, smearing juices on her face.
She slid her tongue inside me, licking and lapping, going at it like a veteran pussy eater, swallowing the juices she slurped.
I put her to work on my clitoris. At first she licked it almost too forcefully, so eager and aroused was she.
But I put a stop to that, since my clit was quite sensitive, and I had her calm down and start slowly and lightly.
Her tongue tip flickered pinkly over the throbbing clitoris.
I pressed my fingertips on either side of the clit and pulled back the labia to fully expose the finger of flesh.
Martha massaged it with the caressing tip of her velvet tongue. Her face was red under the shiny coating of my juices which covered it.
Her head bobbed as her tongue lurched and thrust, and the movements of her head made her pert breasts similarly jiggle.
Looking down between her kneeling legs, I saw the tufted bush and the petite labia and the moist slit.
I knew that presently, I would taste as well as view it ... but for now, there was my pleasure to consider, and the climax which hurtled toward me.
As my passion mounted, I urged Martha to increase the force with which she licked me, so that at the finish, her tongue rubbed roughly.
I came.
T clamped my thighs closed at the instant of the climax, pressing Martha's head between them and squeezing them.
Her tongue stopped its thrusting, but her mouth and nose were pressed against my pussy, which now flashed like lightning.
Finally I stopped shaking and let my thighs fall open.
Martha's face was bright red, and she gasped in great gulping breaths.
My bush, labia, and of course the inside of the slit, were saturated with dripping saliva and even thicker secretions.
I felt all hot and melted with pleasure between the legs. I sat slumped loosely in the chair, feeling boneless from the climax.
When I finally recovered, I leaned forward to take Martha's head in both hands and press a hot open-mouthed kiss on her lips.
I fancied I could taste myself in her mouth....
When I broke off the kiss at last, I smoothed back some few strands of hair which had fallen across her forehead, which also was sticky.
As long as I had her kneeling on the floor, I thought of another use for her.
Among the many uses I had planned....
I stood, a little shakily at first. My pussy lips glowed. My breasts felt sweaty and stifled in the confinement of the bra.
I took off the bra, the breasts seeming to expand when freed.
Still, it wasn't my breasts which I intended to have Martha now worship.
I stood facing her, turning her so that she no longer faced the chair where I had sat for the spanking and the pussy eating session.
Standing on her knees as she was, her head face, mouth was level with my pussy.
But it wasn't my pussy which was offered up for her worship right now.
I turned and presented my backside for her to orally worship.
I looked over my shoulder at her. She looked fascinated, hypnotized by the sight of my buttocks poised under her nose.
I put my hand on her head and pulled her face to my buttocks, which she at length nuzzled, kissed, polished with her tongue, and adored.
But her task was not yet complete until I spread my buttocks, exposing the little brown rosebud of my anus for her tongue to tantalize....
She did everything I told her to do, everything!