Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 108: Lynette’s cunt, in the corridor

But though I’d sensibly decided not to kiss Lynette (she having belatedly climbed the stairs in response to Raylene’s and my invitation for her to watch Raylene get caned), I’d walked into touching distance. I said, “I’m glad you decided to come.” 

She scowled at me. “How’s Raylene?” 

I thought about that. “Slightly caned, I guess. You missed the first two strokes. But about to to get a lot more. Caned, I mean. And she’s, um, pretty happy about that. She’s having a good time.” 

scowl“Yeah. She’ll be telling herself that. She’s a victim not only of male violence, yeah, and on top of that of false consciousness. She thinks she chose this, but really she didn’t. Because the patriarchy chose it for her.” 

My mouth dropped, dismayed. I’d had that argument before. I’d been interested in discussing it, once, but now it only bored me.

“Just because she likes something you might not choose, doesn’t mean you can discount her choices as false consciousness.”

“Well, you would say something like that, wouldn’t you?”

‘Yeah, I’m enjoying myself, too. That’s how it works, any kind of sex. And this is something Raylene’s enjoying. It’s as free as any choice is. Also -“

I stopped, because Lynette punched me lightly on the side of my stomach. She laughed. “I’m kidding, you fucking fool. You were looking too smug, so I thought I’d wind you up. Sorry. But you should’ve seen your face.” 

My mouth was still open. I gaped at her. I managed to say, “Oh.” And then she kissed me. It wasn’t a big kiss, but her mouth pressed on mine, compressed and sucked briefly and lightly. She stepped back. I said, “Bloody hell, I hate dialectical arguments. They just … go on, don’t they?” 

Lynette looked at me. Then she grinned, probably looking more smug than I’d been. “Gotcha.” 

So I said, “Yeah, you did. Scared the arse off me.” And – maybe since I’d decided not to only seconds before – I kissed her. She was stiff for a microsecond. She hadn’t expected it. Then she relaxed and kissed me back. So that was that.

Eventually she stepped back, but put her hand on my arse, squeezing me through my jeans. “What scared you? A little feminist talk and you go running to stand on a chair?”

“No. It’s not that I haven’t heard that argument before. And it’s not that I don’t know why it’s wrong. I mean, incorrect, not immoral or something. But having that argument just now … It’d just be a buzzkill, that’s all. I feared the buzzkill.” 

assgrab fmThat seemed like a good last line, and she was still holding my arse, so in celebration I moved a little closer and put my hands, one of them holding a cane, on Lynette’s ass.

And because she looked up at me, half brat and half princess, I kissed her again. This kiss stayed, and became open-mouthed when I felt her tongue press against my teeth. We explored teeth and tastes and spit. 

This was going well. “I’ve saved you a good seat.” 

She said, “ooooooooh!” That was mock-excitement, but I thought it covered up real excitement. She was more turned on by this – by Raylene, by Raylene enacting a strange sexual ritual – and even possibly by me, a little bit – than she was prepared to admit. 

inner thighSo I held her tighter, and she stopped holding her body away from my erection. I let my hand prowl, lifting her borrowed skirt and holding bare thigh, not so far from her cunt. I thought about saying something about her having one of the three best seats in the house, and rejected that vehemently. I could get away with saying that to Raylene or Dorabella, because they were patient with me. Lynette, on the other hand …

So I said the only other thing that had recently come near the top of my mind. “Ah, this is good. You smell good.” 

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