Well, it seems I never published chapter one of this story. I'll have to get to that. Meanwhile - enjoy.
Mr. Craness was waiting on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled up in front of one in a long line of tall row houses. A jolt of recognition ran through Penny as she glimpsed his profile. He was exactly as she’d imagined from his photographs. Perhaps the grey in his hair was less prominent in real life, and his eyes less dark. Then he stepped up to the cab and opened her door, and she saw that his smile was far warmer than she could have pictured. They paused, then, for a moment, Penny poised to disembark, Mr. Craness half bent to peer in at her, their eyes locked. His eyes crinkled appealingly, and she thought there was a hint of mockery in them. Her heart pounded. Then he extended a hand and she took it, trying to rise gracefully from her seat.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you at the airport,” he said, stepping smoothly in front of her to pay the driver and retrieve her bags. “It was project day at school, and I was required to preside.” His hand was on the small of her back, guiding her towards the stairs. She reached for the iron railing to compensate for the unsteadying influence of his touch.
“Are you alright?” he asked, moving his hand to just above her elbow. She turned toward him. She was on the first step, while he still stood on the sidewalk. His eyes were startlingly close to hers.
“I’m just nervous,” Penny managed. Mr. Craness smiled that heart-melting smile again, and began to propel her up the stairs.
“Nothing to be nervous about, my dear. We’re old friends, aren’t we?” Through her increasing haze of unreality, she examined this statement. Friends? This was not how she would have described their arrangement.
He’d taken her hand and touched her back, but no embraces or kisses had been exchanged. As he showed her to her room, now steering her firmly by the small of her back, Penny debated whether to make some affectionate gesture. Meanwhile, Mr. Craness explained that the house was not, in fact, his, but that of one of his employees. “Robert and his wife are out of the country for a few months, and they’ve put the house at my disposal,” he explained. “This way you will have your own space without feeling any obligation.”
He set down her bag on the bed of a rather plain room, furnished in modern, clean-lined teak. Penny went to the window and found a view of a row of back yards. Clouds hid the sun but she was surprised at how bright the day was. It seemed impossible that it was still morning.
“I’ll leave you here to get comfortable,” Mr. Craness was saying. Penny turned, sensing her last chance to instigate affection. Her step forward was checked by his next words. “Please remove your panties before you come out to the front room.”
It was said matter-of-factly, as if it were a house rule along the lines of “no shoes on the carpet”. If Mr. Craness noticed her startlement, he didn’t show it. He smiled congenially and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Alone, Penny looked about the room. For furniture, there were a bed, a small bedside table, a chest of drawers, and a rectangular white leather arm chair. A long white curtain at the window was the only decoration. A clothes rail hung along one wall. She was glad she’d packed lightly. Too many dresses would have disturbed the rooms peaceful spareness. All of her belongings took only a minute to put away. She opened a door and found a small bathroom. A door on the other side of the bathroom connected to what she assumed was the master bedroom. She closed it again quickly. At the tap she brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face.
“Remove your panties...” She replayed his tone in her head. There was no room for questioning. She’d agreed to come as his protégé. It seemed lessons would begin immediately. Her stomach tightened pleasurably, and she slipped off her underwear. They were a bit stiff with dried essence from her evening with Marco. She smiled at the memory. Just as well she was taking them off. Not seeing a hamper, she tucked them in the dresser’s top drawer, in another corner from the rest of her things.
She found Mr. Craness emerging from the kitchen, drinks in hand. She accepted the water he handed her. He gestured towards a bentwood dining chair, out of place in the living room next to more boxy white leather furniture. “Sit there,” he said. “I want to look at you.” He sat on the couch facing her, his knees a few inches from hers. Penny tried to adjust her posture. He was purposefully putting her ill-at-ease. Her shiver of nervousness was almost arousal.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she ventured. She tried to make her voice sound natural but the words sounded embarrassingly out of place. He surveyed her steadily, the same appealing smile he’d greeted her with hovering about his eyes.
“I’m certain we’ll enjoy getting to know each other better,” he replied. “Now - tell me about your trip. Did you enjoy the seat I chose for you?” They chatted about her flight, which she reported as pleasantly uneventful. She felt herself relaxing slightly. Mr. Craness’s voice was reassuringly familiar from their many telephone conversations. He told her a little about his morning. Then, without any change in tone or pause for transition, he put a hand on her knee and said, “Move your chair closer and spread your legs apart.”
Penny felt her whole body flush. Awkwardly, she did as she was asked, hiking her chair forward between his knees. “Closer,” he said, and then lifted her legs so her knees sat on top of his, her hips tilted slightly up, her feet hanging against his ankles. Her skirt was rumpled, and she moved to pull it down, but his hand stopped her. “Sit up straight,” he admonished. She had to prop her hands behind her on the seat of the chair to comply. “Good,” Mr. Craness said. “Stay like that.”
It was not a particularly comfortable position. Penny was painfully aware of Mr. Craness’s eyes on her exposed pussy. She felt a faint dampness building, and hoped he couldn’t see it glisten. He smiled into her eyes as he reached out a hand. One finger traced lightly up and down her cleft. Her breath caught in her throat.
“I have only one rule to teach you, Penny. But it will require your complete attention.” His fingers glossed gently over her clitoris and traveled down her slit again. “Do I have your complete attention?” he asked.
She managed to muster her voice. “Yes, Mr. Craness.” On the telephone he had always asked her to answer him by name.
“Good,” he said. His fingers brushed and lingered. “My rule is this. You will treat me with respect.” He pinched her clit lightly, and Penny gasped. “What do you think respect means?” he asked.
Penny’s mind was not equal to the question at this moment. Her attention was on his two fingers, subtly, rhythmically, pressing and releasing her clit. Mr. Craness’s deepening smile seemed to acknowledge her difficulty. “It means, Penny, that you will be honest, obedient, and courteous. Do you think you can do that?” His fingers released her clit and resumed tracing her slickness up and down.
“Yes, Mr. Craness,” Penny replied. His finger penetrated her slowly and, unintentionally, her cunt muscles grabbed and pulled at it. She heard his low chuckle through a fog of desire.
A second finger joined the first, and his thumb returned to her clit. Her hips moved helplessly. “What a little whore you are, Penny,” she heard. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted his lips desperately. She shifted her weight to reach out for him, but his free hand pushed her back against the chair. “Stay there,” he said. His fingers fucked her. Her tits ached and her back arched towards him. His hand again pressed her backwards. The thrust of his fingers emphasized his words. “I - want - an - obedient - little - slut.” Penny’s control was rapidly slipping. Only his hand against her sternum kept her from slipping out of the chair. She cried out over and over, grinding her hips against his hand, aware only of wetness and pleasure and need.
Her orgasm crashed over her, lifting her hips into the air, pushing her head backward to hang over the chair. All that held her up were her hands on the seat, her thighs on his knees, and his fingers, deep inside her cunt. She’d wanted to be beautiful. She’d wanted to be confident and graceful and self contained. In some small corner of her mind she saw herself, straining and grunting, and knew all of that was lost.
Her legs slipped from Mr. Craness’s knees and he removed his fingers from her cunt. Her body curled forward over their interwoven knees. He didn’t object, when her forehead came to rest on his thigh. Neither did he run his fingers through her hair. It was quiet. She felt bleary and increasingly disconnected. “I want kisses,” she said, sitting up again. It came out sounding petulant. She pushed her hair back from her face and tried to look Mr. Craness in the eye. He stood, his legs still against her knees. He looked down at her.
“I imagine there will be kisses for you, pretty Penny. But you’re not here for a romantic tryst, are you? We’re not passionate lovers. We agreed you would come here as my student.” He smiled again and caressed her cheek. She could smell herself on his fingers. Seeming to catch her thought, Mr. Craness moved a finger to her mouth, and she opened her lips obediently. “I think,” he continued, “We will both enjoy your visit quite a bit.” Suckling his finger, almost floating with jet lag and arousal and confusion, Penny gave up on analysis. There’d be time enough for thinking later. Right now, she was being led to the bedroom and clean white sheets.