Free Sarah's Tutorial: Corbin's Bend, Book 2 by LazyDay Publishing Page B

experience for her, as the noises she made in response to the ripping off of the wax strips sounded rather too excitable, and the moisture in the area had to be dried several times. This after she had already groaned too loudly as she expelled her butt-plug in the tiny bathroom of the salon, and dropped it into the plastic bag in her purse. "Don't worry, honey, it's normal," said the aesthetician, but Sarah could tell that it wasn't–quite.
    That was another thing she had not told Marilyn, of course.
    John lived on the other side of Corbin's Bend from her parents, thank goodness, since his part of the development was the newest, and theirs was the oldest. There was very little chance anyone would notice her and, if someone did, she could say that Professor Dunn had asked her to bring him some notes, or even invited her over for a meal.
    The house was beautiful and new, and Sarah found herself fantasizing about what it would be like to live there, to be Mrs. John Dunn. Would she go to graduate school if they got married? Weren't people saying that PhDs in the humanities were a bad idea these days? Without even understanding why, she thought about the paddling he had given her the night before and wondered where in this house he might spank Mrs. John Dunn, should the occasion arise. Where would John want to spank his wife? In the bedroom? In the living room? In his office?
    Probably everywhere, she thought, and giggled. She was giddy with the notion that she was here, in his house, and that he was going to come home and find her waiting for him expressly so he could fuck her. Belonging to him, being waxed for him, having a sore bottom that he had given her–above all having his butt plug deep inside her backside–all these things seemed like such a fundamental realization of her identity that being Mrs. John Dunn, slave-wife to the amazing John Dunn, PhD, didn't seem such a strange thing to try on for size.
    He had left a note for her on the kitchen table.
    Dear little Sarah,
    Here are my instructions for you. Please remember that I will punish you if you fail to follow them.
    First, take off all your clothes. In my house, you will usually be naked, so you had better get used to it as soon as possible. In fact, don't continue reading this note until you are naked.
    She obeyed. How could anything be so shameful and so wonderful at the same time? She folded her clothes, and piled them on the bed in the guest room. Her only adornment now was John's butt plug, which was purple. She had seen it for the first time that morning when she had had to remove it to answer certain biological needs. That had been another horrible, wonderful thing. Sleeping with the butt plug–or, rather, “sleeping” with it, had felt rather extraordinary. It was neither horrible nor wonderful, just a constant reminder of this strange thing that had happened, this strange transformation she seemed to be undergoing and was incapable of resisting, let alone stopping. She was now a girl who slept with a butt plug when her professor told her to. That was different from the person she had been the previous night, to say the least.
    But removing it and looking at its modest purple length, soiled with her body's shameful waste, washing it with antibacterial soap, putting it back in, thinking about what a good girl she was because she was putting her butt plug back in the way her professor would want her to do: all of that had about it the very same simultaneity of lust. It was a lust that not only comprised apparently equal parts of stomach-knotting, whole-body blush-making shame and limb-loosening, panty-soaking arousal, but, more than that, brought the two sides, embarrassment and desire, together in a kind of endless synergy. The shit on her butt plug both disgusted her and made her desperate to put the lovely, lovely thing back inside her.
    And all of it was in the service of John. It all had meaning because he thought she was worth putting a butt plug in,