The Taming School
Click on image to enlarge.
by Sonni De Soto
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: "SAF 25 Sub Virgin" - That was all Kat Valdez had written in her online ad. Tired of feeling like a spinster waiting to shed this staining status, Kat had logged onto a BDSM forum to look for a way to lose her virginity. Peter Richards, moderator of the forum and firm believer in safe, sane, consensual kink found Kat's post inappropriate, unwise, and naï¿½ve. But after meeting with her, he found himself captivated by Kat, seeing the strength within her innocence. Peter takes on Kat's challenge to teach her everything he knows about kink, determined to be the man who leads her through the experience. Peter tests Kat's limits and makes her examine the difference between sensuality and straight-up sex, between weakness and submission, between innocence and virginity. Before he takes it, he will teach her to understand and love the full breadth of her virginity. Kat never thought that her first taste of pleasure could be so good. Never imagined that by submitting to Peter's demands, her own desires--unknown and unexplored--would be fulfilled. But, the more they explore and play together, Peter discovers something different--something special--stirring within himself. As he touches Kat in every possible way he can, her indomitable spirit touches back, and he finds himself weak in the face of the temptation she presents. And, for the first time in his life, Peter realizes that this time he wants to play for keeps.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler,
eBookwise Release Date: November 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [235 KB]
Reading time: 151-211 min.
"SAF 25 SUB VIRGIN"
That was all Kat Valdez had written in the online ad. It was all she'd had to write. Really, I mean, if that doesn't get people's attention, she'd thought as she posted her cyber appeal, I don't know what will.
And, indeed, a week later, she was wading through an inundation of replies that slowed her email system down to post-like speeds.
MWM 35 DOM EXP WILL TRAIN YOU TO BOW AT MY FEET AND SERVE ME TEA ON YOUR KNEES
SBM 45 DOM 10" DICK
BI MHF 26 SWITCH LOOKING FOR GIRLS TO WORK & LIVE IN HOUSE UNIFORM PROVIDED
Kat had even met with three of the men who'd replied. One of them -- SWM 28 DOM WELL-TO-DO & WELL-ENDOWED -- seemed to share her sentiments on the whole situation. Unfortunately.
"You said you were Asian," he'd grumbled in the crowded café she'd chosen as their meeting spot.
"I'm Cambodian. Though I was born and raised here in the States," she'd replied, sipping her venti latte.
"It's misleading," he'd told her, obviously less than thrilled. "You say 'Asian' and people are going to think Chinese, Japanese. Maybe Thai or Korean. You know, anime, kimono shit. Foot-binding and geishas, that kind of thing."
"Sorry," she'd said with a shrug. She'd heard this all before. Asians, she knew, were sexy. Exotic. She -- with her deep brown skin, her thick lips, and her albeit almond-shaped but sleepily heavy-lidded eyes -- was just foreign. Other. "Sorry."
Kat didn't know what she'd been expecting, posting that ad.
She'd tried to date in the real world. But every boy she'd ever loved had cherished her, admired her. They'd looked at her with sweet, burning looks that had tugged at her heart, opening it as they fingered through her longing.
But when they'd touched her with their soft, civilized hands, they'd handled her like she were crystal. Fragile and precious. They'd touched her like they were afraid she'd break.
She felt broken.
And, for years, Kat had tried to make it work. During her teens, she'd learned to fake the sounds of love, learned how to moan and squeal and squirm on cue. By the time she'd finished college, she was the consummate -- if not the consummated -- actress.
She had pleased them -- she liked to think -- the boys she'd dated here and there, and had even gained some pleasure from them. Sweet kisses that barely brushed her skin. Touches so soft and affectionate, they'd made her moan and cry in anticipation.
She would return these gestures and had always been rewarded with grunts behind gritted teeth as they'd wrestled with reserve. And, when she'd pulled back, testing their control -- their ability to resist temptation -- they'd allowed it, their restraint resilient and gentlemanly even as their eyes had burned with yearning.
It was all nice. Very nice. And so very civilized.
But, late at night when their dates were through, Kat would kneel on her bed alone, her hand clutching at her chest over her poor open and throbbing heart. She would scream and thrash and tear at her hair. Late at night, when she was alone, she would cry.
They'd all loved her, her long-left boys. Yes. They had all loved her very well, and had told her so often, but she wondered if any of them had wanted her. Had ever really -- even for a moment -- wanted her to a point so sharp it felt like need.
Sitting lonely at her desk and sighing, Kat moused through emails and wondered whether anyone ever would.
She stopped suddenly and blinked blankly at her screen.
"IMPORTANT" flashed in bold across the top of the email, followed by "YOUR POST HAS BEEN DELETED."
For a moment, she was too stunned to do more than stare dumbly. Shaking herself from her shock, she frantically scrolled down.
Petruchio_7, MODERATOR OF THIS COMMUNITY, HAS DELETED YOUR POST FROM THIS SITE.
She was speechless. It'd taken her weeks -- weeks of agonizing self-debate and self-doubt -- to screw up her courage to post that ad. She'd spent years before that denying herself, hiding her desires. Trying to convince herself that they were only a phase and would eventually fade. And now, as she was planning her first tentative steps into this new and exciting world, she was being kicked out.
With her fingers gripping the mouse desperately, she snuffled back tears. Her other arm curled around herself, her nails digging viciously, comfortingly, into the flesh of her arms. They didn't want her. Why?
She scrolled even further down to the personalized note Petruchio_7 left for Miss_K66.
This is a serious forum for people honestly interested in this lifestyle. This is a safe space meant for people with enough trouble being accepted and accepting themselves without immature idiots posting jokes. Consider yourself banned from this community and flagged by the site.
Kat could hardly breathe. A joke? A joke? He'd thought her post was a joke.
Maybe it was, the very cruelest kind of joke to think that she would ever find what she longed for by posting that ad. What did she think would happen? That she would meet the man of her dreams like some whip-wielding Prince Charming while she, what, waited with bated breath like some leather-bound Cinderella.
Petruchio_7 was right. She was a joke. And an idiot.
Self-loathing and embarrassment made her click on the reply button, typing quickly with shaky fingers.
To Whom It May Concern:
I apologize for any inconvenience my post may have caused, but it was not, as you have claimed, a joke. It was quite sincerely meant. I, again, apologize for any misunderstanding.
It was, undoubtedly and entirely, my fault. I promise to never post there again. Sorry.
She quickly -- or as quickly as her shuddering digits would allow -- shot off her reply and shut down her computer for the night. She watched as the lights faded and died, steeling herself to let her desires -- stupid, impossible dreams -- do the same.
Peter Richards, Petruchio_7's alter ego, raised an eyebrow at his laptop computer. It had to be a crank. It just had to be.
Who the hell was twenty-five and still a virgin? Who got out of any American high school with their virtue still intact anymore? Maybe in his grandparents' day, but no one made it through -- at the latest -- college without doing the deed.
But, she'd written him back, prim and proper as a business letter. Who puts a PS on a prank?
He scratched his forehead and checked her site profile. Hmm. She'd been detailed, he saw as he scrolled through her history. Convenient. He leaned in closer.
Originally from the Midwest -- no surprises there. She'd come to the West Coast for college. Summa cum laude -- God, she was Asian. Sort of -- BA in Literature, not the most practical of careers. Self-titled office grunt, a truly sad fate for a National Collegiate Scholar. She liked to read, watch movies, and write. She'd only joined one community. His.
That was a lot of detail for a joke.
He sat back, leaning against the stiff café chair, and sighed. He clicked back to his full mailbox and all the email responses Miss_K66's little one-line post had generated.
MBF 44 DOMME ROOM & BOARD PROVIDED
SWM 55 DOM EXP WEALTHY WILL PAY
SAM 28 DOM AM WILLING TO LEARN
It read like some illicit personals page. And, damn it, that was not what he'd intended when he'd first created the community. He'd wanted it to be a place where people could ask questions and learn about this lifestyle without fear of embarrassment or censure from the everyday, outside world.
He'd meant for it to be educational, inspirational; not just another digital dark corner for people to jerk off in.
So, yeah, her post had pissed him off on principle. With twelve characters, she'd managed to make his lofty attempt at awareness into the back of some two-bit bar's bathroom stall door.
She'd brought the worst out of his members -- turning even some of his more dedicated regulars into nothing more than foreign-fetish chasers -- not to mention, she'd also attracted droves of less than desirable lookie loos, sniffing around for a quick and kinky lay.
So, true to form, he'd snarled and snapped, defending what was his, effectively and efficiently taking down the threat.
And he'd been right to do so. That little post was a distraction. It was some pathetic attempt made by some newb too clueless to know what kind of position she'd put herself in.
So why couldn't he just forget about it?
He'd dealt with it.
It was done.
Or it really should've been.
Peter removed his glasses, polished them, and put them back on, blinking, letting his eyes adjust to the clarity.
Looking back on it, banning her did seem harsh. After all, if she were actually sincere -- as she'd claimed in her reply -- all she needed was some direction. And that was precisely what Peter had dedicated himself to providing.
Besides, he was honest enough with himself to admit that he too was intrigued. What kind of girl made it to twenty-five still untouched?
He bet she was ugly.
Or really religious.
Probably not worth the effort.
He sighed and checked his watch, confirming that he had about a hour before his next job -- helping to de-bug some employment office's database after some disgruntled punk of an employee left his own going-away present after having been fired, leaving the entire office at a stand-still until Peter could get it up and running again. After the preliminary scan of their system he'd taken yesterday, Peter was fairly sure he'd be done today by five.
Clicking on the email Miss_K66 -- or Kat Valdez, he'd discovered after riffling through her personal email profile -- had sent, he fired out a reply, telling her, that if she was really serious about her post, to meet him at Donovan's, a small bar in the trendy part of town, at six-thirty.
He sent it, downed his coffee, and packed up, ready to whip Working Hands into shape.