Cabin Fever - An Erotic Novel

Chapter 10 - Teaching Christina (FINAL EDIT)

I spent all evening teaching my wayward student how to obey her master.

I had already taken Christina places I wouldn't normally go, just to see if she would actually say 'no' to something – and thereby transform herself into a more exciting person. She never did, which was a disappointment. But then again, I never went 'all the way,' so maybe it was my fault for not pushing her hard enough.

I'm no stranger to a little role-play or bondage, quite the contrary. I like to spice up things a bit on occasion. But I've always felt the garnish shouldn't overshadow the basic ingredients. If by 'foreplay' you mean hanging hogtied from the ceiling with a big dildo up your ass, then you're going to have a hard time coming up with an interesting main course. And even if you do, you have to eat every day. Spice it up, yes. Letting fetishes gain the upper hand, not so much.

This time, however, I really applied myself. With the benefit of hindsight, I can say that I wasn't entirely myself that day, that I was merely playing a role. I wasn't just 'Felix.' I became 'Master Felix.' Turns out, he lives inside me. I just didn't know – or admit it – before.

It was... a bit scary, getting in touch with my inner darkness. To experience first-hand what dwelled inside me. But it was also damnably liberating – to act upon my dominant, if not downright sadistic traits. Stuff that I, like all civilized people, keep under lock and key, lest it upset out placid, orderly realities.

I have a huge wrought-iron double bed. It's an antique, not a replica. I got it from my French place. But I digress. The French connection is a story for another day.

The bed doesn't suit my apartment that well. The rest of my furniture is pretty minimalistic. A lot of Scandinavian design. But I never could find a Danish-designed bed that hankered to my needs.

The French of old, however, knew how to make excellent beds. Do you have any idea how many ways there are to tie a girl to something like that? Me neither, though not for lack of trying – it's just there are too many options to fully explore.

I could have gone for a pretty basic ankle-and-wrist kind of setup, one wrist to that bedpost, that ankle there, and so forth. But come to think of it, I kind of like ropes and knots – why do one tie, when you can do two? Why make it crude, when the loping ropes and knots can be made pleasing to the eye?

So I had Christina standing on the floor, facing the footboard. Her legs were spread, but not too wide. Her heels were still on and were clearly causing her some discomfort, as she struggled to keep her feet on top of them – not a whole lot of ankle support in shoes like that.

If it weren't for the soft hemp rope lovingly wrapped around her ankles and right above her knees, she wouldn't have managed. Let it not be said that I'm a master without mercy.

Her arms were not bound to the bed. She had them behind her back, tied wrist and elbow. Those were the first ties I had made that night – I would not be undoing those knots until I was done with today's lessons. It was nothing elaborate, but it was very functional – she could wriggle, but not get out of them. She could struggle, but she couldn't win, so she might as well give up, and maybe master would be gentle with her.

But not tonight. I would not be gentle tonight.

I had her collared and leashed. Yes, I admit it: I have accumulated some toys over the years. The leash was short and securely fastened to the iron footboard – it makes this grand sweep up in the middle, perfect for just that sort of thing. Made me wonder how many French maids (real and role-play) had been leashed there before I got hold of the thing.

It was beautiful in its simplicity: the way her blonde hair fell down her arched back, the way her hands brushed against the soft, reddening skin of her ass, the way her curves were enhanced by the unnatural position of her arms.

Were it not for the boxers I had put on, my dick would have stood out at right angles. And were it not for the black gi pants I wore, I'm sure I would have fucked her right then and there, then do it again and again, until I could fuck no more.

That would have made me a terrible master. This wasn't about my satisfaction. This was about teaching Christina obedience. To do so, I would need to rise above my base desires. I must be Master Felix: firm, unyielding, in control.

She was all nude by now, save her shoes and her bra – it felt wrong to deprive her new breasts of all support, so I had just pulled the lace far enough down to expose her nipples.

Speaking of nipples: I think Christina has the most sensitive nipples I've ever come across. Lucky her. No, seriously, I mean it. Sensitive nipples are great. I would know – mine are, and I love it when girls have the presence of mind to give them some attention. Warm lips, a moist tongue during foreplay. A little pulling and twisting when I'm coming. A tender bite when I'm least expecting it.

Not very manly perhaps, but who cares. I'll take my pleasure any way I like. For the guys that have missed out on the nipple-fun: I pity you.

As for Christina, the boob job had done nothing to diminish her sensitivity. I had given them plenty of attention already. They remained in a state of perpetual stiffness, readily betraying her lust, much like her blood-filled lips and enlarged clitoris (clitoris, unlike cunnilingus, is a cute and sexy word I like to use).

I was barefoot and bare-chested, dressed only in my boxers and black cotton judo pants. Standing behind her bound body, I was savoring the sight and feeling her plight as I considered how to end today's session.

We had been at it for four or five hours. Granted, I had taken a few breaks, but by and large, I had been working the whole time. I had let Christina come, several times, while I had not.

It would be so easy to take her from behind and be done with it. To slap her ass a few times. To stick it inside the warm wetness between her legs. To pull her hair. To pinch her nipples. To hammer her, again and again. To feel her squirm to get away. To feel her push back against me for more. To mix pleasure and pain until the great release came for us both. So easy.

But with great power comes great responsibility. I think I heard that in a movie once. Could have been Spider-man. It's true, though. I must, therefore – through an act of sheer will – put my own immediate gratification aside if I was to succeed with Christina.