KathrynLocksley
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Update and preview: BPC 9
🕑 Added 2023-09-29 22:28:49 +0000 UTCWho wants an exclusive preview from BPC 9? :)
The chapter's coming along nicely (over 7k already), but I'm going to take some detours to check in with a few more characters before calling it finished, so I thought I'd share a snippet in the meantime.
In this one, Kristen gets assigned to handle a VIP session for Rose Daimler (wife of the Bureau's director), as a substitute for the disgraced Officer Deacon. Rose is selective about who administers her pleasure, and won't accept anyone new until she's seen them at their most submissive.
***
“Lie on the bed. No shoes, obviously,” said Rose, standing and pulling back the covers. She waited with faint, decorous impatience for Kristen to do as she was told.
Unsteadily, Kristen stood up, set aside her opened device and shoes, and climbed onto the mattress. She lay down by slow measures, lowering her head onto the downy pillow, simultaneously savoring and resisting the smoothness of the high thread count sheets against her skin. Even with her short uniform still on, it felt too good, too much, to have pressed against such large areas of her body at once.
Rose strode over to the room’s shelves of unguarded implements, as easily as if she owned them personally, and picked out two: a small, unassuming-looking wooden paddle, and one that looked like a bouquet of black feathers.
Duster 1, Kristen thought, watching Rose twirl it in her hands. Called a duster because it was originally designed for removing dust from hard surfaces. It was never as good for that purpose as it is for safely stoking arousal.
Somehow, regurgitating facts from class to herself made her position feel more manageable.
“How long has it been since you last had a session for yourself?” Rose asked, brushing the duster slowly upward from Kristen’s left ankle to her knee.
Each feather caressed like a loving fingertip and itched like the footsteps of an insect at the same time.
“About a week,” Kristen answered.
With Zach gone, the official answer and the true one were the same. Kristen had forced herself through an uninspired, supervised orgasm the day after Officer Deacon’s interrogation. She had just reached the end of a mandatory deprivation period, and she had the points to afford it, so failing to do so would have looked suspicious.
“You’re already so reactive,” said Rose, rolling the skirt of Kristen’s uniform up to her waist as efficiently as if she were moving a piece of furniture out of the way. The duster continued on its path up to the crease of Kristen’s hip and then stopped, starting again from the other ankle. Kristen’s clit throbbed for attention, summoning a synchronized flood of moisture inside her. She had no doubt Rose could smell the tang of it.
“It’s all you,” Kristen breathed.
“Is it really?” Rose asked dubiously.
“And your choice of tools,” Kristen admitted. “And a Pavlovian response to the feeling of being unlocked at all. And that week. A week isn’t nothing. But a lot of it is you.”
“That’s nice, dear,” said Rose.
The second time Rose reached Kristen’s hips, she gave the duster a little flutter right over her pussy.
“Very reactive,” she said, almost scolding. “You’re going to give me hardly any room to play at all before you go and finish, aren’t you?”
“I’ll do my best to hold off,” Kristen answered through shallow breaths, aware of how weak a promise this was. “If you stick to the feathers, I doubt they’ll be enough to set me off, no matter how worked up I get.”
“But what if I want to do this?” Rose asked placing the tip of one index finger right on top of Kristen’s clit.
Kristen gasped at the sudden, irresistible pressure. There was no hope of her answering the question intelligently, none at all.
Rose dragged that pressure firmly around in a tight circle. Kristen could not restrain herself from moaning out loud.
A second circle began, and Kristen knew full well that she would reach the point of no return by the time Rose’s finger made it back to its starting position again.
Rose must have known too. She stopped after a semi-circle and withdrew her hand.
“Don’t worry,” she said, in a tone as firm yet pleasant as her touch. “I know just what you need.”
She set aside the duster and held the narrow paddle over Kristen’s wet, ready sex.
Kristen scrabbled her fingers against the soft sheets below her until she’d gathered enough material to clutch in her hands, then turned her head to the side and closed her eyes in preparation.
Rose stroked her leg comfortingly with her bare hand. “Be brave,” she said. “Here, feel how nice and light and smooth it is.” She rested the polished wooden paddle on Kristen’s thigh. “It won’t do your soft little pussy any harm. Just teach it some manners. Don’t you want it to settle down and be patient?”
There was only one correct answer.
Nervously, Kristen nodded.
