Miss Eva & Me

Chapter One-3

She took a deep breath. “I’m not quite sure how to put this,” she said. “But I already have serious feelings for you, dear Lucy. And I don’t want you to be in the dark.”

This all sounded very mysterious. I was eager to know what this dark secret was.

“I told you about the Professor,” she said. “I indicated that I watch him enforce discipline on the girls I bring him. But I don’t do those sort of things just with the Professor. Most of the women I’ve had affairs with I have been dominant with.”

“You discipline them?”

“Yes. To be more specific, I spank them, with my hand or maybe with a hairbrush. On their bare bottoms. And with some I have used a leather strap or a cane. Of course it’s consensual. They have to want it, welcome it. And they have the right to stop it at any time. But it’s more than just a game. I like to leave marks. Bruises, welts.”

She paused, looking into my face, trying to see a reaction.

“Oh,” I said lamely.

“Some people would call it a perversion. People like me who enjoy it usually describe it as a kink. I like to cause pain. I like to see if I can persuade someone to like it too. To get excited by it. It’s a kind of power thing, I suppose. I have a theory, well not my own, it’s been observed often enough, that in all relationships there is always one who leads, one who follows. One who dominates, one who is dominated, even if in the nicest possible way. I like to be the one in control. I like to enforce obedience.”

She paused again. I sat without speaking. It was a lot to take in.

“There’s more to it than I have described, and we can talk about it. But that’s the basic scenario in my relationships. Not always. There have been women I have simply loved sweetly and never harmed a hair of their heads. But mostly I am drawn to women who respond to my urges.”

“Like me?” I said.

“Well, that’s the question,” she replied. “Whether this is something you could ever take part in.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve no experience. Perhaps I’d be willing to dip my toe in the water. Perhaps with you it might work.”

“If you think it’s all disgusting and horrible, I’d still like to go on seeing you. We’ve made love several times already without any violence. We could carry on that way.”

She smiled. I wondered if we could, now that she’d told me. Surely I’d be on the lookout, waiting for whatever move she made. To hurt me; the idea both aroused and scared me. But there was something I had to say, had to be honest about.

“So the thing you were going to tell me, the thing you knew about me but which I didn’t, is that you think I might like pain.”

“That’s very smart of you,” she said. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Well, there’s one thing. While we were in bed you bit my n****e, quite gently but I pushed you away. That was an instinctive response, but since then I’ve thought about it and hoped you’d do it again.”

“But harder?” she said.

I smiled, a little embarrassed at how easy I was to read. “Yes,” I said.

I thought she was going to take me upstairs again at that point, but instead she announced that she was going to cook dinner. So I sat at the kitchen table chatting some more while she busied herself with the dinner. It was going to be a soufflé, something I had never had the nerve to try. I wondered if she would turn out to be better than me at everything: writing, f*****g, cooking.

After dinner we went in the other room and drank some coffee. Again I hoped she would take me upstairs to bed, but she didn’t. At least, not for a couple of hours. She talked of this and that. About being a writer and how hard it was, especially once you’d had a best-seller, which she had. People wanted you to repeat it and make them some more money. And she said it was a lonely occupation. People see writers at book launches or if they are successful perhaps on TV or at awards, and it always looks so glamorous. But, she said, writing is mostly about being alone, shut up in a room by yourself staring at a computer screen.

“Which is why it’s so delicious to meet someone like you, not just for the s*x, though I have to say that is sensational, but for companionship.”

I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. As I bent towards her she turned her head, though, and instead I was kissing her mouth. We grabbed each other greedily. After five minutes she pulled me up off the sofa and led me upstairs again. Quickly she took my clothes off, and then her own, and then we were lying in bed with our hands everywhere.

And I was waiting for her mouth to descend to my t**s. I could feel my n*****s so hard they were throbbing. Would she actually hurt me, or would it be a teasing nibble? Sure enough, her head gradually descended, leaving my mouth, kissing my neck, then between my t**s, then moving across to the left one, licking it, sucking it, getting her lips around the n****e and taking it into her mouth. And then, like an electric shock, I felt her teeth against me, on either side of the n****e, and slowly they were squeezing together. I held my breath.

Her teeth squeezed together more and more tightly, and I breathed in and out, the way they always tell you to do if there is pain. Then it got so hard that I gasped, but this time she didn’t stop. I knew she was seeing just how far she could go before I would pull away, and I tried to be brave because I didn’t want to disappoint her. But then it really did begin to hurt. It was a sharp pain, almost like a needle being pushed into my n****e, or what I thought that might feel like, since nothing of that kind had ever happened. I forced myself to breathe deeper and deeper, and then I just clenched my teeth and tried to tough it out, and I both wanted it to stop and I didn’t, because the pain in my n****e was travelling right down to my cunt and making it ache. “Oh, please,” I cried out, but it wasn’t exactly a plea to stop, and she knew that because she had done this sort of thing often and she knew it was the time to keep going. And she did, harder if anything until I really feared she might bite my n****e off, but then the pain turned sort of funny, as if I was floating and I wanted the pain and I wanted to give it to her, as an offering, a tribute. Use me, I thought, if you need to hurt me then do it.

At last she thought that was enough, at least for the moment. She took her mouth away and began to stroke the n****e with her fingers and that was too much at first but as the pain died away I liked it, and she began to play with the n****e, pulling on it, twisting it, teasing. And then she put her other hand between my legs and fondled my cunt and I came in about twenty seconds flat.

“My god,” I said. I rubbed my n****e. “I’m sore,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “That means it will hurt even more next time.”

“You really are a sadist,” I said.

“I really am,” she said. “You’d better watch out. Now get your head down and earn your keep.”

That was to be the pattern of it: great tenderness, yet in the throes of s****l excitement she would often treat me like some little slut and order me about. I liked it, because I knew that this part of it was a game. Well, not exactly a game. Eva was always very clear about that. I don’t order you to do things or call you names or hurt you because it’s fun, she would say. I do it because I must, and because you need it.

I worked her cunt as well as I knew how, which was quite well by now, even though it had only been a couple of days. Less, actually. I always did my best to give her the orgasm she wanted, in the way she wanted. She was so good to me and I wanted to please her so much.

We had some more s*x and then we fell asleep. The next morning I said I needed to get home because I had things to prepare for work the next day and I needed some clean clothes.

“I think I’d like to keep you chained up here,” she said, “and your clothes will get more and more soiled with your juices and with mine until you stink like the lowest kind of whore.”

I made a face. “That’s sounds delightful,” I said. “However…”

She gave me breakfast. She said she wanted to see me again in the middle of the week. “Wednesday?” she asked. I said that would be fine. I thought I’d be desperate for her again by then.

She ordered a cab to take me home. I protested it wasn’t necessary, I could take the tube. “I think it’s only fair that if I exploit you and abuse you that I can spoil you too,” she said. Before I left I asked if I could take the book of hers I had started reading. She asked me to bring it to her. I found it in her study and handed it over. She opened the front cover and inside she wrote, “To Lucy. With love. Eva” I was deeply touched. I almost cried, but I was afraid she would think me sentimental (which I am).

When I got home I stripped off and put my clothes in the laundry basket, including the pair of her knickers she had lent me and which I had surreptitiously retrieved. Then I took a shower, soaping my poor sore little n****e, which was soon not so little. I m*********d, then spent the afternoon doing this and that. I went to bed early and took the book she had given me, with every intention of reading some more, but within a couple of minutes I was asleep.

The next couple of days I was just marking time, waiting for Wednesday. On Tuesday evening I had a drink after work with Beth, and of course I had to tell her about Eva, just a little. She was beside herself with curiosity. “Wow,” she said. “She’s famous!”

“All the more reason you keep it to yourself,” I replied. “If you let so much as a single word slip to anyone else, you won’t hear anything more from me about it.” Beth made the sign of zipping up her mouth. I knew she was reasonably reliable on things like that, but even so I said nothing about the n****e-biting or anything of that nature.

I started looking online for stuff about female submission and in particular lesbian submission, and even more particularly about lesbian abuse. I saw videos of lesbians spanking each other, on the bottom, and even between the legs. I saw girls being slapped around and led about on leashes, I saw girls being used as footrests, and of course I saw lesbians sucking n*****s and biting them. The day before I was due to meet Eva again, I looked at some more of these images, but I stopped myself m**********g to them. I didn’t want to relieve myself of all my s****l energy. Though I don’t think there was much chance of that. The more I thought about these things and the more I put my hand between my legs the more lustful I became.