Satan's Sisters Series

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

I once knew this guy who saved for two years to buy some painting. I would drop in to see him and find him just staring at it like it was some babe or something, for hours. Sometimes he would sort of stroke the frame. I could never understand why it was so important to own some piece of art. It’s like picking flowers and taking them into the house. Aren’t they just as pretty in the garden?

So I knew that spooky look, and I saw it on Dr. Cornell’s face when Heather brought me to her on Friday night.

The house was a big old Victorian thing that looked like a wedding cake. Heather told me that it had been in Dr. Cornell’s family forever at least. The gates were iron, and we had to talk into an intercom before they would open for us. The driveway was like a private road that went way back in the woods. The place looked so totally last century that I was expecting to see Lurch or something when the door opened, but it was Dr. Cornell who answered our ring.

She greeted Heather like a lost sister, hugging and kissing her and rubbing her back. It was the weekend, and the Valkyrie had let her hair down—literally. It spilled down her back like a brown waterfall. I suppose that she wore it up in the classroom because it made her look older and (as if!) plainer. All of her makeup was scrubbed away too, and that made me more aware that there was a real woman underneath all that disguise. She wore a silk robe with (I later learned) nothing under it, and slippers that looked almost like high heeled shoes. Somehow I knew that she wouldn’t be the kind of woman who would wear those awful fuzzy bunny slippers. She had a book in her hand with her finger marking the place.

She set the book down on the entry table and turned to me. “Chrissy!” she cooed. I noticed that the finger that traced the line of my jaw was trembling. I was trembling too, but I think we had different reasons for it. I flashed on two things at that moment. Dr. Cornell had a major crush on me, and she was going to hurt me—I mean like—physically.

Don’t ask me how I knew; maybe it was the fact that she liked knowing that I showed up for her class every morning with my ass stuffed. When she looked at me, I could see her tail twitching the way a cat’s tail does just before it springs. She knew that I was scared, she could smell it. It was perfume to her.

It was the first time I had ever stood toe to toe with her. My nose only came up to the erect n*****s straining against the thin robe. I looked at them, then realized that they were erect because of me, and looked down at the floor instead. I giggled, then mentally kicked myself for it. I was being so uncool!

“I feel like a little girl in front of you,” I said. Way to go Chrissy! Spill your guts.

She seemed pleased by the confession. “My little girl,” she crooned. “Strip for me. I want to see you.”

Okay—I wasn’t too surprised. I knew that Dr. Cornell would get around to the s*x stuff sooner or later, but I thought that she would choose a private time and place, maybe work a little moonlight and roses seduction number. I didn’t expect her to have me peel down at the door with my best friend watching. I looked over at Heather and she gave me a little nod as though to tell me that such demands were normal here and I should expect them.

There wasn’t much to take off, since Heather wasn’t letting me wear undies these days. I was bare in a minute. Dr. Cornell was a Braille reader I guess. She felt me all over, I mean everywhere, tweaking my n*****s and stroking a finger into my slit. (Yes, it was damp, if you must know.)

“Turn around and spread your legs, please.”

I know. It was time to say “f**k you very much!” grab the clothes I had just folded neatly on the hall table next to the silk roses, and get the hell out of there. I was curious though, swept along in a current, to abuse a cliché’, and her finger had just plucked my clit like a guitar string. It was still thrumming.

I turned around and spread my legs.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw her take a tube of lubricant out of the pocket of her robe and knew what was coming. I thought about that tube, how she planned ahead for me, pocketing the lube before she sat down to read and wait for her little victim to fly into the web. I felt as though I were in some X rated movie, and no one had given me a script.

She smeared my asshole with grease. I felt a finger spearing into me, clear to the knuckle. She wiggled it, finding nerves in there I never knew I had. She added another finger, stretching me and making it hurt. I tightened up.

“Please!” I whined.

Dr. Cornell shushed me softly. It was like she was praying or something, she was so intent. I told myself that her fascination with my ass was pretty sick, but there was something very intimate about having her reach into me like that. I relaxed again, aware that her fingers were scissoring apart, opening me. I was squeaky clean inside, at least. Heather had seen to that before we left.

“The plugs are doing her a world of good,” Dr. Cornell said to Heather. “Next week she should be ready for the inch and a half.” She slipped the fingers out of me and gave my ass a smack that would have been playful if it hadn’t been so hard. Her fingers left a greasy smear on my butt, along with a red handprint. I jumped. I felt that she wanted to do more, but she was deliberately restraining herself, like a kid who eats dessert with tiny bites to make it last longer.

“Heather,” she said, “take Chrissy to the kitchen and introduce her to Mrs. Kraft.” To me she said, “She will explain your duties here.”

“Do I get a uniform to wear, or something?” I asked. I looked hopefully at my clothes. They weren’t designed for scrub work, but I sure didn’t want to wear some disgusting coverall.

Some of Dr. Cornell’s hair had tumbled across her face. She tossed her head to shake it out of her eyes. The better to see you, my dear. I was facing her again, arms folded over my t**s and legs together. She looked into my eyes and took my hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately as she moved them down to my sides.

“You are already wearing it, My Dear.”

Mrs. Kraft was a big woman with beefy arms. She looked like a nanny I once had, until Daddy fired her for being a little too strict. She showed no surprise when I was delivered to her naked. She shook my hand, looked me up and down, and took me on a tour of the house. Pointing out the antiques that I should be especially careful of, she gave me a verbal list of all the things that needed cleaning. The tour ended at a locked door. It was oak paneled, with gargoyles or something carved in the trim around it.

“This is where you will go to be punished,” she explained.

I didn’t get it. I thought that maybe she would lock me in a closet or something if I didn’t behave. It was the kind of insult that would suit her need to put me in my place. I was sure that she had some class envy thing going. I didn’t ask her about what was on the other side of the door, just made up my mind not to give her any excuses to take me there.

I cleaned. I had never done this kind of work before, and had no idea that it was such physical labor. I was learning respect for all those illegals that Daddy used to hire. (He called them “wetbacks”. He’s so politically incorrect!) Mrs. Kraft had to show me how to do a lot of it, and made me feel stupid and clumsy the whole time. I scrubbed floors and walls. I swabbed out toilets. I dusted.

When four hours had passed, she put on white gloves and inspected. I thought I had done really well, until she pointed out my goofs. She led me by the ear from room to room, her voice rising as she showed me the dust over the doorframes, the corners I missed, the ring of lime deposits under the toilet rim. All the time she was nagging me, she seemed secretly pleased.

She still had my ear pinched between thumb and forefinger when she led me into the living room; where Dr. Cornell and Heather were watching television.

“How did she do?” asked Dr. Cornell, as if my grand entrance hadn’t given her a clue.

“Not very well, I’m afraid,” said Mrs. Kraft. The snitch! I could have decked her. “Do you wish to witness her punishment?”

Dr. Cornell looked grave, as though I had disappointed her. I felt truly sorry, and wanted to apologize and promise to do better. How can I explain this sudden need to please her? It wasn’t just because I was scared.

“Of course,” she said.

“Shall I restrain her?” asked Mrs. Kraft

I relaxed a little. I should have known that any friend of Heather’s was likely to be into bondage. They would probably tie me up tight, stuff me in the “punishment room”, and leave me alone for a while. They would have a giggle, watching the tube while I languished in the dark, then turn me loose and forgive me. It’s no big deal, I told myself. I would be more than ready to do some s*x with Dr. Cornell, or any other warm body, by the time I was free. Dr. Cornell considered it a moment, then said “No. I want to see how eager she is to make amends. Put her over your knee. Use the leather paddle. We can save the harsher implements for other times.”

She was so casual about it. It was as though she were asking Mrs. Kraft to put out the cat. When I heard myself sentenced, I looked over at Heather, expecting to see that she was enjoying this. Maybe it took her by surprise too. She sat deep in her chair with her arms folded, staring at the TV like she was all alone in the room—or wished that she were.

When Dr. Cornell talked about penalties, it never occurred to me that she was talking about physical abuse. Okay, maybe it had and I was in denial or something. Now I was looking at another moment of truth, wondering if it was already too late to take my pride and clothes and excuse myself. Would it do any good to declare my rights? Could I say that the whole thing was unfair? Mrs. Kraft made up my mind for me by grabbing my wrist and tossing me over her lap.

I flinched, expecting her to start hammering on me right away, but she set the wicked looking paddle on the floor where I could see it and opened a jar instead. The stuff she rubbed on my butt had a funny smell, not unpleasant, some kind of herbal thing. It made my skin tingle. I learned later that the purpose of the oil was to hold in the heat and increase the sting, enhancing the effects of the spanking, and keeping my buns bright long after it was over.

Now I only have to think of the smell of that oil and I get scared.

Dr. Cornell said, “Chrissy, I want you to keep your hands and feet on the floor. If you shame yourself by struggling, we will have to restrain you, and your punishment will be more severe.”

Mrs. Kraft wiped her hands on a tissue. I felt her bend over me and saw her big hand reach down to take the paddle from the floor. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Right there, in Dr. Cornell’s living room, in front of my roommate, with the television blaring out sit-coms, I was spanked like a bad little girl.

I was very brave. Mrs. Kraft hit me twice before I started yelping. I had been thinking about how humiliating the whole thing was. I had no idea that it would hurt so much! The pain was totally awesome!

Someone used the remote to boost the volume on the tube when I started hollering. I could hear Dr. Cornell say that I was doing well for the first time, and could take a lot more.

“No!” I begged. “I’ll do better! I promise!”

Mrs. Kraft ignored me, and the paddle started slapping my buns harder and faster. She would hit the same spot over and over, hurting more each time, then start a new spot.

I sobbed and begged. I told them I would be the best girl ever. I would do anything-ANYTHING!