Extracurricular Activities

(This is the seventh chapter in a rather long series I have written. It will stand on it's own but there will be better context if you read all the previous chapters. Enjoy and please comment and share!)

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Chris woke alone in the giant bed to the savory odor of frying bacon. His stomach grumbled, empty for the past twenty-four hours, and bid him to get out of bed in search of the origin of the delicious smell. He threw off the covers and moved quickly, too quickly for the wounds he forgot about on his back. He screamed obscenities and his eyes misted up.

'How could I have forgotten about last night?' he thought. Remembering the copious amounts of rum he imbibed, he figured out why. He eased out of bed, sore and aching, hobbling towards the kitchen. Her flat was pretty big, the entire second floor of a three-floor apartment building. Her bedroom was at the end of a long hall, next to it on the left side was the door to the bathroom that he had heard them running water in the night before. There were a few more rooms on the right side, closed doors, and then the hall opened up into a very large eat-in kitchen and open living room. The cupboards were white with glass fronts that revealed their contents. All of her plates were all different colors, her kitchen appliances matching the rainbow theme. In the center was an island that doubled as a breakfast bar.

He was greeted first by Johnny as he sipped his coffee, checking websites on Sarah's computer. Sarah was at the stove wearing only a tight t-shirt and her sexy black panties as she flipped sizzling bacon in the pan.

"Morning man," Johnny greeted, "Want a cup of coffee?"

Chris shook his head, coffee would have been a bad choice on such an empty stomach. "Fuck, what time is it?" Chris asked.

"Ten thirty," Johnny said, not gazing up from his work on the computer.

"Shit! I'm so late for school!" The young man said, starting to panic.

"Relax," Sarah said reassuringly. "I already called your school, pretended to be your mom, told them you had food poisoning from dinner out at Renaissance Bistro," she said, throwing a rival restaurant under the bus. Chris chuckled and then groaned, the pain in his back erupting with the effort of it all. He felt better overall, the nearly twelve hours of sleep doing him some good. He came up behind Sarah and spied on her as she cooked. The fat in the pan popped and she jumped out of the way of the hot grease droplet. She pulled the nearly crispy bacon out of the pan with tongs, transferring it to a paper towel-lined plate.

"You know you could have cooked that bacon in the oven and not had all that splatter. This one woman taught me how to do it. You could learn a lot from her," he joked referring to what she had taught him on his first day at the Black Bear.

"Yes, but if I did that, I couldn't do this," she said cracking half a dozen eggs into the pan with the rendered fat. The eggs sizzled wildly and Chris actually moaned aloud. She seasoned the eggs with salt and pepper and with a flick of the wrist, flipped the whole mass without breaking any of the yolks. She turned off the gas and let the heat of the pan continue cooking the eggs gently. Chris' stomach growled noisily, grabbing the attention of the other two in the kitchen.

"I'm starving!" he groaned as the others stared. "I didn't eat lunch and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep dinner down, so I didn't even bother trying. Then I drank a shit-load of rum and slept!" he said, justifying his belly's racket.

"Why don't you pull the fruit salad out of the fridge and some bread out for toast," she suggested. The fruit salad looked fresh and delicious; ruby-red strawberries, juicy pieces of melon and the scent of zesty ginger. The bread was thick-cut and full of whole oats and seeds. He put four slices into the toaster and got out some butter and jam he had spotted in the refrigerator door. When the toasted bread popped up, he smeared it with butter, pressed the buttered sides together into two portions and cut them in half, placing them on two of the plates Sarah was setting up. Four more pieces went in the toaster as he helped Sarah clear away some of the cooking dishes. They sat at bar stools at the island in her kitchen. Chris munched happily on his four slices of toast, slathered jam on two, using the other slices to make a rather large sandwich. He loaded up on fresh fruit, the ginger helping to calm his stomach after the sudden onslaught of food. Johnny and Sarah merely watched and laughed as he vacuumed up the contents of his plate.

"How are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Physically or emotionally?" he asked, not waiting for an answer, "Bruised and broken." Johnny put a comforting hand on his shoulder, avoiding any sore spots. It meant a lot to Chris that he was not alone in all this, that he had camaraderie with Johnny.

"Chris, Johnny and I were talking this morning and we've come to a decision," Sarah said as Chris continue to eat. "I want to take you under my wing and give you what Cat couldn't." Chris stopped mid-bite, a piece of bacon sticking out of his mouth.

"What?" he said, swallowing hard.

Johnny laughed and Sarah continued, "I want you to be my submissive. I'd be your Mistress and even though Johnny's a sub too, he'd be Master to you. We could have training on Sundays after Johnny and I get done with brunch at Black Bear. I know I can help crack open that shell of yours, guide you and help you learn to trust yourself and others." Sarah speared a piece of egg on her fork as Chris mulled over. The wheels were turning as he contemplated her offer. He really wanted her help but didn't want to change their working relationship. As if reading his mind she said, "Nothing will change at the restaurant. You will come here and be my submissive, everywhere else you will be Chris, high school student, kitchen apprentice and dork," she added, making Johnny chuckle.

Chris finished his breakfast and wiped his face with a napkin. He took a while contemplating the implications of all she had to offer. He stared at her as she finished her breakfast. She was strong and domineering yet he felt safe with her. She had rescued him from an evil woman, tended to his wounds with love and compassion twice now. She had never hurt him, physically or emotionally. Sarah looked up from her now empty plate and her eyes met his. With a small smile from the woman, he softened. He experienced an intense feeling of trust wash over him. Her hand touched his lightly, electricity flowing though his body.

"Mistress," he started, making her cheeks flush with excitement, "Please..." he trailed off, unable to convey his thoughts.

"What is it slave?" she asked, urging him to break down the barriers keeping him from taking part in all life had to offer. She got down from her bar stool and stood next to him, her body so close to his, the heat of her so close, so palpable. Her soft hands touched him gently, one on his forearm, the other on the small of his back, the action subtly leading and guiding his mind to demand what he wanted. "Slave, tell me what you want," she whispered in his ear.

The word 'slave' described him perfectly. He was a slave to the demons holding him back, a slave to his feelings of shyness and inadequacy. He groaned but couldn't say it, couldn't bring himself to seize the opportunity in front of him. Sarah could see the emotional upheaval as it played across his face. "Slave, tell me what you want," she repeated, her face lingering by his ear, her soft breath tickling his neck.

"I... I want... I," he stammered. She placed her lips softly on the nape of his neck, giving the lightest of kisses, murmuring 'tell me' quietly. He felt incensed that he couldn't say what he wanted, heavyhearted with the feelings of insecurity that enslaved him. Johnny, empathetic to Chris' internal conflict, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Sarah's hand on his forearm slid down to entwine her fingers with her apprentice's. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Like ripping off a bandage, he spoke. "Mistress," he exhaled, "Make me your slave."

"I can't make you do anything," she said, unsatisfied with his response, "You have to give yourself to me," she said, her words eating their way into his brain. He groaned and slammed his fist down on the counter, the loud noise seemingly going unnoticed by the two on either side of him. "Give yourself to me," she said softly, almost pleading. He bit back the tears that threatened to overtake him. Anger, hope, sorrow, love, gratitude and grief coalesced in his mind. Her kiss on his cheek pulled him from his thoughts, "Give yourself to me."

"Fuck!" he roared. Her eyes gazed into his, filled with compassion and love. "Mistress, I give myself to you!" he shouted, feeling as if he had just climbed to the top of a mountain. He slumped with the mental effort of it all.

Johnny grinned, "Have fun you two," he said, still surfing the web.

Sarah smiled and grasped a fistful of Chris' hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. She roughly kissed the spot where his jugular vein throbbed below the skin, her teeth and tongue on the erogenous zone. She could feel the blood as it pulsed through, feel how fast his heart was pounding. His eyes rolled back in his head as he panted. Breaking the kiss, she took him by the hand and led him down the hall towards her bedroom, detouring at the door to the left of it. She threw him into it and he stumbled, falling to his knees.

He looked around at the playroom, not as well-appointed and opulent as Cat's dungeon, but he preferred the aesthetic of this one more. Cat had store-bought, uninspired-looking junk that lined the walls. Sarah had hand-made, one of a kind pieces that reflected her quirkiness. The walls were covered in sound-absorbing foam, something that wasn't necessary at Cat's house, being so secluded. There was a tall armoire on one wall and a twin bed with an iron frame on another wall, the rest of the room fairly open, only a few items strewn about on the floor. There were hooks hanging from the ceiling, obvious care being taken to secure them well with bolts drilled into the beams under the stucco. She didn't have any big pieces like benches or crosses like Cat had, but there was a chest on the floor and a few tie-downs embedded in the walls.

Sarah clicked the dead bolt on the door, the sound causing him to whip his head towards her, and she smiled down at her new slave. He was dressed only in a pair of boxers, on his knees, his back to her, his welts and wounds still so vivid from the night before. His face had taken on a look of fright and apprehension, the vulnerableness making her so turned on. She walked over to a small table with a set of speakers on it, her iPod plugged in. Using her thumb, she scrolled through the music and settled on a playlist she had made. Soft, modern instrumental music streamed from the speakers, filling the room with sound. She walked over to her slave and ran her fingers through his hair as he sat at her feet.

"Relax," she said in a way that immediately soothed him. "Sit back," she directed, helping him from all fours into a kneeling position where his butt rested on his muscular calves. She put her bare foot in between his knees and urged him to spread his legs, his butt now on the floor, putting him in a weaker stance. "Go ahead and put your hands behind your back, use one hand to hold the other wrist," she said and he complied, "Let's call this the 'sitting' position," she said. His demeanor changed with her gentle guidance. He struggled with emotions of fear and defenselessness. Her hand caressed his face and he leaned into her touch, looking for comfort and consolation. She stepped in front of him, her hand still on his cheek, her panty-clad pussy so teasingly close. Chris could tell she was aroused, the scent of her womanhood filling his senses. "Why don't you show your mistress some gratitude for agreeing to train you," she said.

He understood the implications of her words and began licking her lips through the black lace, tasting the moisture that had seeped through. She purred as she looked down at him, his eyes closed as he worked on pleasing the woman before him. She hooked her index fingers into either side of the waistband and slid the lace from her rear, wiggling out of her panties. He took in the sight of her pussy, that single triangular patch of well-trimmed hair seemingly pointing the way to her honey pot. He dove in, licking and sucking her clit. Her knees weakened but she stopped him, pushing his face away.

"Take your time with it, take your cues from your lover," she instructed, "Tease me, make me want to beg for your tongue," she said, guiding his face back to her slit. Chris' tongue stuck out of his mouth, flicking at the moisture that clung to her pussy lips and she cooed, relaxing with his touches. He would circle the hood that shielded her sensitive clit, occasionally dipping it in and licking at the juices. She spread her legs a bit, opening her flower to his exploring tongue. Making contact with her clit, his tongue made her moan. He brought a hand up to her crotch and she shook her head. "Just wait a bit longer," she groaned and he stopped himself. He rested his hand on the curve of her ass, feeling the muscles tighten as she tried to remain standing through his ministrations. She steadied herself by placing both her hands on his head for support.

His tongue probed her nether regions, circling her clit, fucking her tight hole. Sarah lifted her left leg and rested her thigh on his right shoulder, allowing him deeper access to her pussy. Her foot would touch one of the angry welts on his back from time to time, reminding him of the dull ache there. He sucked at her fully-exposed clit, flicking the tip of his tongue across the hard nub. Sarah bucked and he smiled. Opening his mouth wider, he nursed on her pussy, lapping hard at her little button. She groaned, her mouth in the shape of an 'O', her eyes closed tightly. His teeth grazed the sensitive bump and she squealed, her first orgasm crashing over her. He was surprised by how suddenly it had happened, how it had crept up and now she was writhing on him. He held her hips, as she bucked, not wanting her to fall.

"Good boy," she panted, gazing down at him through the afterglow of her climax. "I'm going to show you how to make me cum," she said.

'I thought I just did,' he told himself.

"Take your two fingers like this," she said, showing her first and middle fingers, "And put them inside me." He did as he was told and she moaned loudly. "Now," she panted, "Make a 'come hither' kind of motion, up towards my belly button," she said, demonstrating in the air for him. He obeyed, finding a pea-sized bump there inside her and she growled and nodded. "Don't stop!" He continued to stroke her and moved his head closer to suck her clit. His tongue touched her and she immediately screamed, arched her back and came on his face, covering his chin and neck with her juices. Her knee weakened and Chris grabbed her by the waist using his free hand with lightning-fast reflexes, easing her tumble to the ground in orgasmic bliss.

His other hand was still buried knuckle-deep in her wet snatch as an evil idea overcame him. He continued to caress the highly sensitive spot inside her, causing her to groan. Her body writhed under him, his cock beyond hard as he brought his mistress closer to her third orgasm in such a short period of time. Sarah shook her head no and moaned 'stop' but he could tell she was enjoying it, her face a mask of pleasure. She let her knees fall open, exposing herself fully to his wanton stare. Her pussy was drenched in her own juices as he continued to finger her. Her chest heaved, her beautiful full breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. He thought only of pleasing her as he wriggled his fingers inside her.

He could feel her climax building, her pussy tightened on his long fingers. The music was also reaching its crescendo, the bass notes seemingly syncing up with his own heartbeat. He looked down at his mistress, proud of how much pleasure he had brought her. Suddenly every muscle in her body stiffened and she let out a guttural moan that he was sure Johnny could hear through the sound-proofing foam. She squirted on his fingers again, her pussy pulsating rhythmically. He let her ride his hand through her orgasm, still stroking the spot she had shown him. She squealed and closed her legs, rolling over to escape him.

"Thank you Mistress," he said, greedily lapping up her juices that coated his fingertips. She laid on the floor, unable to move, struggling to breathe and he smiled.

"You've been a bad boy," she growled from the fetal position. Chris looked at his mistress, noticing her words did not accurately convey the look of elation on her face.

"I'm sorry Mistress," he said casually, still licking his hands clean. She rolled onto all fours and crawled towards, a glint in her eye. When she got near him, she lapped up the cum that still covered his face like a kitten.

"I'm going to have to punish you," she said as she licked at his neck, causing him to shudder. She grabbed his nipple roughly and twisted it. Chris yelped and jerked away, unsure where this was heading. She smiled at the change in his demeanor and got up, still in her t-shirt, pussy and ass exposed as she walked towards the wardrobe on the far wall. She opened the double doors and Chris could see some of the contents within. There were paddles and floggers hanging from hooks screwed to the inside of the doors and shelves built in with all sorts of sex toys. Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs of every shape, size and color occupied two shelves with some medieval torture devices on the bottom ledge.

"Take off your boxers and get into the sitting position," she said, reminding him of his training earlier. He sat naked with his legs spread, his cock pointing proudly towards the ceiling, his hands behind his back. Sarah grabbed a leather collar, similar to the one he had worn the night before at the hands of the sadistic Domme. Chris looked away, not wanting such a reminder around his neck. Sensing his fear as it filled the room, she reassessed the situation. "Chris, are you okay?" she asked. When he nodded, she slapped him on the face, "Don't fucking lie to me," she sneered. "You need to be completely honest with me because I will be nothing but honest with you. This is serious stuff here, not some kinky fantasy bull shit. Without trust, it won't work... for either of us," she said, looking deep into his brown eyes. "Do you trust me?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yes Mistress," he said, eyes lowered submissively.

"Tell me you trust me," she commanded softly, "And don't lie to me!" She seized his chin and forced him to look her in the eye.

"I trust you Mistress," he said, his eyes a bit misty.

"You have to trust me," she said, kneeling and dropping the collar into her lap. "I'm going to take you to some places that make you uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally. You have to trust that I have your best interests in mind and that I will never truly hurt you. You will feel pain at times. Your heart with ache with sorrow and longing at times. But know that I will never hurt you... never hurt you like Cat did," she added. He could feel tears form in the corners of his eyes. He had to look away, to keep up the facade of strength and masculinity. Boys don't cry.

It was Sarah that had rescued this beaten and tortured man, that had nursed his wounds, that was now guiding him down a path of surrender and helplessness. He was now walking the very ambiguous line between obeying and being freed. With servitude came liberation. With pain came pleasure; such paradoxical ideas.

"Will you accept this collar as a symbol of your devotion to me?" she asked, breaking through the thoughts that swarmed through his head.