Partnering Chapter 7 Warming up to His Studies Catherine and Patrick Patrick was resting on the dormitory room bed, brooding in the dark. The blackness matched his mood. The room door opened to admit light, which he did not welcome, followed by Catherine, whom he did. He wanted words with her. She sat down beside him on the bed. She was dressed as she had been when she'd invited herself into his home to nurse him. Patrick was certain it was not coincidental. "How are you doing?" her tone soft. "I don't know. I was feeling pretty good about the session. I had been able to perform for a woman again, to please a woman fully again. Then I saw her. It was like a light went out." "I thought that might be the case. Do you trust me?" It was a strange question, but he considered it and was surprised that he truly did trust her now. He gave a jerky nod. Maybe they really had accomplished a lot earlier in the day. She closed her eyes in relief. "That girl in the scene? We couldn't let her go home tonight. She was too wiped out. You took that girl to the limits, and she enjoyed every minute of it. Don't let that bitch cheat you out of that success." Her words made sense. He even agreed, mentally. Emotionally, well, that was another story. "That woman," Pat's voice was raspy with emotion. "She's a client here?" Catherine nodded and reached out to stroke his shoulder soothingly. "A long time regular as it turns out. We're trying to decide what to do about that. She set you up, Pat. She picked you up to turn you down, to ridicule you, to humiliate you. It was a scam. You didn't fail with her because she never gave you a chance." Patrick's lack of reaction frightened her. Finally he spoke. "How do you know this?" She shook her head. "I can't tell you that. Not yet, at least, but you said you trust me. Trust me on this, Pat. I am not lying to you." She kept her eyes steady on his, willing him to accept her words. Another long silence before he spoke again. "When will I be trained as a top? When will I be ready to apply as an instructor here?" The massaging motion of her hand on his shoulder stopped abruptly. "Oh, no, not that. We exist so that people can play safely. We couldn't let you hurt her in a scene here, even she does deserve it. That's a violation of our basic philosophy. Besides, I know you too well. You could have hurt me and you didn't. You wouldn't be able to really hurt her, either." More's the pity, she thought. Pat digested that and a slow, evil smile crossed his face. Catherine gaped at the change. "All right. I accept that. A favor, then? Don't do anything about her just yet. I have a glimmer of an idea. It needs a little fleshing out, though." What was he up to? Catherine did not know, but she decided she'd want to play. Particularly if it meant getting even with Ms Sutton-Daniels. Patrick took the hand that had be gentling him. He looked up at her over the hand. "What gives, by the way? This isn't my stereotype of the severe, harsh Bitch Mistress." She shook her head and grinned at him. "Haven't figured that out yet, patty? For the most part, that IS just a stereotype. We tend to perpetuate it because it's part of the game. But we do care, deeply. Most of us more than other folks. We care enough to help people experience their darkest dreams. We care enough to show that caring differently than the norm because the people in our care need that it that way. We provide them safety and we take care of their most private fantasies. I care and so does everyone we accept as members of our staff. "I lost my control and my discipline with you. You challenged my most basic self concept of the unfailing Mistress of the Erotic and it broke me. I am human. It was wrong, but it's done. That doesn't mean I did not care. I cared too much and tried too hard, too fast. The Bitch Mistress will be around when you need her, as bitchy and strict as you need her to be. But so will Catherine, who I hope is becoming your friend." He sat there, holding her hand for long minutes, just looking at her and through her. Then he kissed her palm. "Thank you, Cathy. I think I understand better, now." He yawned. "Sorry, but I think I'd like to sleep now." Catherine smiled and kissed him on the forehead before padding out of the room, flushed with her victory over Vera Sutton-Daniels. William and Catherine William grinned in genuine amusement at the behavior of his lover. Catherine was nearly unable to sit still in her curiosity. Finally, she broke the silence. "Well, how did he do?" "I've told you that he is taking to the training incredibly well." She gave him a stern frown and then made a show of looking at his butt and then at the strap dangling from her belt. That effectively reminded him that he still owed her a session with him as the bottom from their last bet. "Okay, okay. He is doing amazingly well. His skill with the crop and the cane are nothing short of amazing. He is almost as good with them as I am and he's not half bad with the whip." William shook his head in amazement. "I put him on the wax dummy and put balloons on the tits? He laid the whip directly across the balloons, did not break either, but still stuck the stinger in the wax at the ribs. In a scene with a human bottom, it would have dug into the meaty part of the muscle without any damage to the breasts. He says it's the martial arts training. He showed me what he could do with a sword, hitting a watermelon with the sharp blade, but without breaking the skin? Amazing control. He says the principles are the same. Must be. He's further along now than some of our working junior dominants." "I put one of the senior submissives to him, you know Jennie? The Instructors call her IronAss; they say that she only yells when she wants to. I gave Pat a crop and told her to make her yell without cutting her. I offered Jennie a $1000.00 bonus if she took a dozen without yelling." "He has this trick of snapping the crop, like a karate blow, where he pulls it away from the ass faster than he hit down with it. Jennie lasted six cuts before she was yelling like a novice, and gave her safety word before the tenth. She couldn't believe that she wasn't cut and bleeding." Catherine shook her head. This was the guy she had offered her ass to without any safety controls. She hoped she had read him correctly. "How did Pat react?" "I had to keep him at it once she started yelling. He couldn't believe that was what was expected. I think that he eased up on her once she started yelling, but we will break him of that. All really caring prospective tops react like that initially. You know that. Once he figures out that part of the game, he'll become really popular with some of our more pain oriented clients. But I don't think he'll ever lose it with a client or a personal bottom. He's too controlled; he understands the danger too well. I think that may result from the martial arts training, too." "Having bottomed in a sour scene may be a big part of that attitude, too." "Get off that, okay? I don't think that has anything to do with it." William emphasized that with a smile. "You should see him, Catie, he is magic with a cane or crop." "I'd like to be there for his next live scene, William." She knew this was unusual since by William's rules, whip training was done without audience. Trainees had to give full concentration to the task at hand. "I'll trade you. I'll let you be there if you release me from the forfeit on our last wager." Catherine gave him a dirty look. She had been working hard planning that scene. Oh well, the plan would keep and she did want to see Pat work a bottom's bottom. She held out her right hand. "I accept. You have a deal." William accepted and shook her hand with a smile. He'd gotten out of what he'd known was going to be a fairly strict scene. Damn him. "He's doing very well on his oral training, too. I've put him to several of our more femininely inclined staffers and they find him quite adequate. High praise when you consider the sources." William grinned. "And how is he doing with the Lady Catherine's own personal pussy." William could not believe it, but was Catie blushing? She cleared her throat. "Very well, although he doesn't know that. I've only personally tested him with him blindfolded." She grimaced. "He's so damn good at finding my triggers that I can't find anything to discipline him for, so I don't "lower" Lady Catherine by letting him see her melting into a satiated puddle at his feet." Patrick He was bound to a bench in the same position as the menstruating girl had been. He was blindfolded. Catherine was working him. He didn't know why she played this blindfolding game, pretending to be someone else, but Pat recognized her perfume by now. He knew that this woman was Catherine. She had put something on his nipples that had pinched. The pinch had turned into a dull, numb ache that was just, there, in the background of his mind. Hot, wetness enveloped his face, wiry hair tickled at his nose and cheeks, and weight pressed his head into the pillow under his head. Strong thighs squeezed his ears, muffling the woman's voice. "Worship me, patty. Use your cute little tongue for something useful. Make me cum, patty, show me what you've learned." He'd learned. He had a bag of tricks that had been molded by a variety of beautiful and, he now admitted, caring women. He knew a lot about driving a woman mad, but most of all, he had worked at knowing Catherine. It was his own little rebellion. He would not allow his Mistress to pretend indifference to his ministrations. Maybe that was the reason for her blindfold game. His tongue snaked out for a quick taste to determine her level of arousal. Hot, sweet, god, she must be giving off steam. She'd be no challenge at all, today. He couldn't string her along, either. She was too close already. He drove his tongue into her core and sealed his lips around her slit. Sliding his tongue in and out, he gently rubbed her pussy lips and clit with the ridged front of his teeth. She shuddered hard and sat harder. Was she trying to take his whole head into her? He lifted up with his head, trying to nudge her off him for a second. When she shifted, he slipped his tongue clear of her pussy to use it, teasingly on the lips and around the extremity of her clitoris. Catherine's strong thighs seized his head in an iron grip as her first contractions hit her. Patrick continued the teasing as she seemed to orgasm without coming down off her high. Another orgasm was followed by yet another. Patrick darted the tip of his tongue and fluttered it up and down the length of the hot, hard bud of her clit. A scream shook the room, penetrating even the grip of her thighs. She sat down hard again, this time seating his nose up the lava hot depths of her, grinding herself against his tongue and face. Then, she collapsed on top of him. She did not move for what felt like a long time. Pat became concerned until her felt the soft rhythmic breathing of sleep. Score one for patty, he thought triumphantly. He felt her stir, then rise back up into her position over him. "Well, you have learned something, patty. I have only one more lesson for you today and then you will go off for your other training." The voice was soft, whispery. What was she up to, now. "Give me your tongue, again, patty." Pat reached up to find the hairy patch of her Mons. Making love by the Braille method did have its disadvantages. Hair tickled his nose and he followed his tongue up, arching his neck to get the height he needed. Just as his tongue found the still wet center of her, it happened. It began as a few drops of strong, acridly flavored moisture on his tongue. Before he could figure out what had happened, his mouth was full of sour, acidic liquid that continued to come at him. He tried to move his head, but the furry bomber followed him down. He half spat, half swallowed the mouthful he got and kept his mouth shut afterwards, but the hot, spraying shower continued, drenching his face and the blindfold helmet he wore. The leather of the mask shed the liquid, but the interior of the helmet was lined with a soft felt-like material that became drenched in what he was sure was urine. The weight was removed from his head and face and he inhaled. All he could smell was the odor of her waters. He opened his mouth to speak, but a leather covered hand covered his mouth. "No, don't say anything, patty. It's over." The whisper was husky and seemed to be laughing. "Lady Catherine will explain this to you later, but there is no need to worry. I am healthy and there is no danger to you. This part of the scene is over so there is no need to use your word. Now, Mistress Marielle will be in to take you to your next session in a moment. Just relax." With that, she was gone. Patrick and William Light flooded his eyes as the leather patches snapped into the eyeholes of the helmet were snapped off. All he could see was swirling concentric, multicolored circles. His feet were freed and then his hands. Strong slender fingers gripped his shoulders and helped him into a sitting position. Before he could fully recover, those same hands brought his wrists together behind his back where the >>snick<< of a snap link told he was again restrained. Painful sensation flooded him as the nipple clips were gently removed from his chest. The first thing he saw was Marielle. She had assisted in his oral training over the past few weeks. She'd made the mistake of challenging him to make her cum and then trying to hide his success from him. The next session with her, he had used every trick he knew and had strung her out like a frozen clothesline. She had made the added error of not binding him. Pat had been able to restrain her hands with his, preventing her from stopping his fun. That session had been worth the strapping that Catherine had given him for not obeying his Instructress. Marielle was much more careful about restraining him now, but her disciplines always included oral worship. She snapped a leash onto his collar. "Let's go. You have cane practice for the next fifteen minutes." She led him down the corridor towards what he now knew was the center house. They entered a room where white torso statues stood One was male and one was female; both were anatomically correct. The statues were made of a waxy substance that would adhere to the crop, cane or whip used. When the implement stuck in the wax hard enough to bend when withdrawn, that blow would have cut the skin of a real submissive. Demerits were assessed over the course of training for each cut. Blows to the genitals resulted in immediate failure of the exercise. The only time that William intentionally cut someone was when he worked a demerited trainee. Then they would understand the effect of their mistakes. Marielle released Pat and handed him a cane. He reached up for the foul smelling mask, but found it locked in place. "Mistress, can we dispense with this? It is really rank." "No, patty, and that is a demerit for asking. Lady Catherine will deal with that and your mask after you finish your training. Now, one free stroke to get the feel of the cane and then twelve of the best, making an interesting pattern, but without cutting the female slave." The free stroke permitted the user to get used to the cane before the session. Instructors did the same before training a client. Pat's cane bowed slightly when withdrawn from the lined buttocks of the wax statue. Marielle smoothed the line out with a finger before turning back to Pat. "Begin. One demerit for each cutting of the skin." Pat did not cut the skin. He made weals on the wax, but his katana sword strikes with the cane brought the cane up from the feminine wax ass without bending. Marielle was inspecting his work when William entered the room. William was overseeing this training was because Catherine's presence required an obeisance. That would not do when the pair would double up on a real submissive. William looked to Marielle. "Well? Is he ready?" Marielle shook her head in disbelief. "God, yes. Look at the cross pattern of the strikes. Not a cut among them and evenly spaced as you'd please." She stared at Patrick. "This is a game, right? You're a visiting Master that William has brought in to test the staff with, right?" William laughed. "No, Marielle, he is exactly what he is, a trainee, but by your comment, we can say that he is a very good trainee." To Pat. "Come with me and bring your cane. I have a real test for you." He led Pat to another room, stopping at the door. "Here's the drill, Pat, m'boy. The slave in there is my own personal slut. She is tough, tougher than that last one you made cry out. I have given her a very strong incentive not to cry out. I want you to break her silence in twelve strokes. If you fail, the two of you switch places. If you cut her, if I see the tiniest bit of blood on her ass, I will put you up there and take you to hell. Do you understand?" Patrick did. They entered a darkened room. In the center of the room, illuminated by a circle of candles stood a woman. She was dressed in black leathers from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes. Only her breasts, groin and ass were not covered in glistening black. The catsuit and helmet combination fit her like a second skin, pinching at the parts of her that fell uncovered. Pat walked around his subject, inspecting her. No hair showed. The helmet covered whatever hair she had on her head and her pubis was clean shaven. She stood rigidly in very strict bondage. Her high heeled boots were locked at the ankles to two posts in the floor, forcing her feet about three feet apart. Her arms were drawn tightly into the ceiling by two pulleys that forced her hands to mirror her feet. Nipple clips were strung with tight, thin wires to hooks on the facing wall, forcing the woman to lean toward the wall, and increasing the stress on her arms. This was a beautiful woman, tall, slender, with a lovely round ass and full breasts that Pat was sure were perfect when they weren't being sketched off her chest. The outline of her lips around a ball gag was all he could see of her face as black lenses covered her eyes. In her platform heels, she was taller than Pat by a couple of inches. He leaned up to lick at the hint of skin peaking out around the ball. His hand slipped to her venus mound and found it sloppy wet with excitement. "Are you going to scream for me, pretty slave?" A shake of her head answered him. He fondled her and was gratified by the shiver that went up her straining body. "Oh, I think you will. You see, there's this female, that I want to scream. I don't want to hurt her, but I want her to scream for me. I am going to pretend you are her. Do you know how badly I want to hear you yell, little slave? Far more than you want to avoid whatever your Master has promised you." He pulled his hand from her puss, glistening in the candle light with her spendings, and then wiped them on her upper lip, under her nose. "Be strong, little slave. I'm going to win." Patrick walked behind the woman and then pressed his body into her back. Setting the cane aside, he reached under her ass between her legs with one hand, while he slid the other around her to cup one of the straining breasts. He softly sawed at her slick slit with his hand, collecting more of her lubrication. His index finger slid into the heated depths of her while his other fingers massaged turgid clit. Carefully, he insinuated his thumb into her rectum and began a fucking motion that she started follow involuntarily. His other hand teased at the pinched, stretched nipples, causing little shocks of sensation to shoot from the previous numb ache directly to her increasingly agitated pussy. The woman started to hum, to sing through her gag, the pitch going higher and the volume louder as Pat drove her relentlessly toward climax. A long, keening wail marked her release and she slumped into her bonds, her weight on her wrists and shoulders. Pat stepped back and picked up his cane. "That doesn't count, you know. She has to yell under the caning." William told him. Pat smiled. "I know. But she was too excited. She wouldn't have felt it if I'd gone after her with a club, she was so excited. She's not now." He leaned up to the woman's leather covered ears. "Are you, little slave?" His answer was sudden thrashing in the bonds and a muffled yell that might have been "Nooooooo" but that came out "nnnnnmmmpghhnnn". Pat pressed something into her right hand. "You will have to yell for me, little slave, but you still get the full dozen unless you drop that ball." The woman's hand curled around the ball, making the leather glove on her hand smooth and tight with the strain. "You can't count for me, little slave, so I'll just start now." The first cut fell across both buttocks, dead center and brought a choked "umph" from her. "I won't count that as a yell. You can do much better for me and You will. Here's the second." The cane sang and struck full across both cheeks, two inches above the first. His first five cuts drew parallel lines at equal intervals up her ass. She moved and grunted, but she did not yell. The second five were nearly vertical, moving right cheek outside, left cheek outside, then inside of each of those. She broke on the tenth cut. Patrick waited until she clenched in anticipation and brought the crop down to the clinched crack of her ass. She shrieked through the gag; a long, piercing warble that gave no doubt of her capitulation. Patrick stepped back, giving her time to recover. William pointed to the ball still held tightly in the right hand. Patrick merely nodded, saying nothing. When the cries abated to a few sobs, Patrick moved up to the woman's head again. "You still have two coming, little slave. You still have my little ball in your hand. Drop the ball and this is all over." The head shook, raggedly, but firmly negative. "Okay, sweetheart. Only two more. Ready? Ask for the first by nodding your head so I can see it from behind you. I start when you are ready." He stepped back. The test was no longer his. He had passed. It was now a test for William's slave. She nodded and he struck instantly. A diagonal cut that crossed the + signs made by the vertical and horizontal cuts. She screamed again, but held the ball. "Ask for the last one, the same way." Patrick ordered. She nodded and the final cut mirrored the previous one. She screamed one last time and hung limp, crying. Patrick set down the cane and moved in to release the nipple clamps, eliciting another squeal from her. He massaged her breasts and reached up to kiss her around the ball gag. "You did very well, little one, much better than that woman I told you about could ever hope to do. Thank you." With that, he kissed her once more and stepped back to William. May entered then and led him to the showers. He needed one. "Phew, you stink, Patrick. Whatever happened to you?" May asked. "Be glad to demonstrate to you anytime, May. Just give me the word." He realized that his hands were free on his departure from the scene. Another first. William and Catherine The electric pulleys whirred, releasing the tension on the lines and allowing the woman to relax her arms. William released the locks at her ankles and freed her hands. The collar lock was released and the helmet unlaced. Catherine's hair was sweat matted from the confining mask and her face resembled a raccoon where her make up had run. Her first action on being freed was to move to the mirror and examine her bottom. Her seat was criss crossed by weals that stood out against the flushed skin of her ass, but there was no blood. "I can't believe it. I feel like my ass is in shreds, but I can see it isn't. You don't cane like that, William and I hate it when you come for me with that thing." William moved behind her to release the belts and start unlacing the corset part of the catsuit. "Told you he was special. That trick of getting you off first was cute. Who taught him that?" "Magda. She was so pissed when he got her off orally, she played the old, "I didn't say you could cum" game and blistered him good with that tawse of hers. Damn her and Damn you! I'm not going to sit for days. And I even shaved my cat for this. Do you know how much that is going to itch?" "You did say you wanted to be here and it was my turn to top you." A grin split his face over his ploy. He had imposed this session as her fair turn under his rule. She'd had to agree. "Only because you tricked me into giving up my wager win, you sneaky bastard. How am I going to see Pat now? I did the golden shower trick on him so he wouldn't smell anything but pee. I think he can recognize my perfume, and I did not want him knowing he'd done this to me, but I can't see him now. He'll know by the way I move that I've been disciplined." "May's handling it, love. You've been called away. You can call him up later to discuss the session and to set up your next meeting." Another thought hit him. "How is Tess coming on her training with these toys?" "She'll never be any good with the crop or cane. Too careful. She does show promise with the paddle, though. Sorority girl as an undergraduate, I guess. Why?" "Oh, just a little scene I have been working up in my mind. Tell you what. Let's go discuss it more in the Jacuzzi. You can sit on my lap and I'll tell you all about it." The initial fire of the caning was starting to fade a bit. Catherine started to feel the almost pleasant burn of the caning. "As long as I get to sit on more than just your lap, you beast." "Catie, would I ever deny you your little pleasures?" He asked in an affronted tone. "Yes!" she snapped emphatically, "but it's my turn next time, asshole, and I think you should be very careful to be really nice to me for awhile." He laughed and kissed her hard, then scooped her into his arms to carry her to their apartment.