Page 120 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

Maud And The Secret Society of St. Valentine by Emily Tilton

Chapter One

Summons

The summons arrived on the thirteenth day of February, a Thursday, pushed through Maud's mail slot for her to find when she got home from work. The envelope was of heavy paper, cream-colored, and it bore Maud's name in a calligrapher's hand, like the inside envelope of a formal invitation to a wedding. Indeed, Maud found inside the envelope a rectangle of cream-colored cardstock which had an ornate, engraved message that she supposed as she began to read it must be such an invitation.

She did not have to read far, though, before she understood that what she had received represented something quite different from a wedding invitation, although the resonance with that time-honored and cherished tradition clearly played a role in the extreme heat of the blood that rushed to Maud's face as she read.

The disciplinary tribunal of the Secret Society of Saint Valentine requires your presence at its hearing of the fourteenth instant, at seven o'clock post meridiem in the society's headquarters, Forty-Five Hunt Road, Highfield, Connecticut, for the purpose of awarding your sexual submission and erotic obedience to the gentleman whose friends have referred your case to us. Having evaluated your erotic profile and observed your conduct, the tribunal has elected to docket you for a disciplinary hearing and a mastering ceremony. You will dress yourself in the clothes our staff will give you upon your arrival, and submit yourself to preparation, punishment, training, and sexual use by the gentleman to whom we have decided to award mastery of your body.

Any attempt to evade this summons, or to discuss it with anyone, including the gentleman whose property you will be, will result in dire consequences. We urge you simply to accept your new life of submission and your new role as the erotic possession of the gentleman we judge able to master you as thoroughly as we judge you need to be mastered.

Maud did not think for a moment that the thing might be a joke, or a hoax. She did, however, decide that it must be a game — and one that seemed to her in very poor taste. David had tried to get her to play sex games before, but Maud always said, "Don't be silly, David."

Now, apparently, he had gone to great expense to see whether he could interest her in what Maud had come to think of as his little quirk. Yes, David had gotten exasperated on the morning of New Year's. After she had gotten so drunk at the fancy New Year's Eve party to which he had taken her, she knew he had a right to his frustration. He had really let her have it, verbally: he had said that his ideas about taking the lead in their relationship and about guiding Maud held more importance for him than she seemed able to realize.

He had even said he had begun to think that his love for her might not be enough to get them through to the future. But Maud could tell — thought she could tell, she admitted now — that he didn't really mean it. She thought she could tell David was just looking for excuses to put off proposing to her.

Maud Fredericks had met David Carroll in October. They had already begun in November impetuously to talk about a shared future. At thirty-one, David said he had had enough of bachelorhood; Maud, twenty-three, couldn't really say why she found older men so much more attractive than men her own age, but she couldn't deny it either. The idea of this dark-brown-haired, blue-eyed software entrepreneur, with his high cheekbones and his crew-strengthened shoulders, choosing her with whom to settle down made her nearly swoon whenever she thought about.

They had had sex only a week after meeting, at his palatial apartment in Boston. Maud still blushed to remember the way she had seemed to melt in his arms, when he unzipped her dress as he kissed her next to the table where they had just eaten the spectacular dinner he had made. So confused had she been by her arousal that she had excused herself and gone to undress in his bedroom, so that when he came in he found her naked and waiting: ready for the traditional missionary-position sex they then had, as Maud tried desperately not to show David the embarrassing way her body seemed to cry out for so much more.

The next morning, Maud had invited him to her family's Thanksgiving dinner, pretending — not lying, really, though perhaps implying falsely, which wasn't the same thing at all — that her family didn't consider bringing a boyfriend to Thanksgiving a big deal. It was a big deal, though, as appeared very quickly at dinner, and David had called her on it, that night in her childhood bedroom.

That had been the first time he had suggested one of his games.

"You didn't tell me," David said softly but with a steely edge in his voice, "that your mother thinks we're engaged."

Maud's heart started to pound in her chest. "She doesn't! I mean, I didn't tell her anything like that."

"That makes it worse, Maud." The furrow in his brow grew deeper. "That means that she assumed it because you invited me for Thanksgiving dinner, which in turn means that you failed to tell me that your family's Thanksgiving is a great deal more important than you said. Do you remember when I specifically asked if your parents knew that we had just started dating?"

"Yes?" Maud said. "But, David, it's not a big deal, is it? I mean, you really seemed to have a great time, and you like them, right?"

David sighed. "No, it's not a big deal. Yes, I like your parents very much, and I hope they like me."

"Oh, they did!" Maud said, glad that the little storm seemed to be passing off.

"But I think I need to make something clear. I consider it my right and responsibility to bring some discipline into your life, so that you don't think you can keep this kind of information from me. I think I need to spank you. After that, we'll have sex before I go the guest room. I'll take you from behind so that you feel more submissive."

Maud felt her face turn as red as a tomato. She found that she had begun to chew on a stray chestnut lock that had come loose from her French braid. For an instant, she hadn't realized that the idea was only a sort of game David thought might spice things up between them. In that eyeblink of time she had pictured it: the two images superimposed one on the other — Maud held firmly over David's lap as he sat on the side of the bed of her girlhood, her blue dress' skirt raised and her grey briefs pulled down around her knees, the firm little cheeks of her bottom growing red under his hand; Maud on her hands and knees on the bed, that same backside offered to him as he knelt behind her, reaching forward to caress her little breasts and down to claim her between her thighs, as he got her ready for the pleasure he would take inside her there.

By that time they had had sex twice more — all three times in the usual way. Maud, having had two serious boyfriends before David, hadn't experienced anything but the usual way, but she was proud to say that when a man offered to use his fingers, afterward, she came quickly and — if she didn't — she faked an orgasm for him. Yes, she usually came when she felt like the man had been selfish in one way or another, while he had sex with her: had pushed her knees back, or said something filthy like, "Such a nice, tight pussy," as David had the second time.

That didn't by any stretch of the imagination mean, however, that she wanted to play silly sex games. Maud had no interest in anything other than the usual way of having sex. It was difficult these days to avoid the presence in the media of images that tried to make it seem normal to play silly sex games, of course, but she had grown up in a household where you learned right from wrong, and you learned that just because you saw something on TV or in a movie — or even read it in a book — that didn't mean it was right.

So when the image of what it would look like, to play David's sex game, flashed through her mind she shuddered and said, "Don't be silly."

He had looked into her eyes calmly, with an air of assessment, as if trying to determine her precise state of mind. For a few moments Maud felt like David could see things in her that she didn't even know about herself. The feeling didn't make her happy, and she pursed her lips as she looked back at him, wondering if this bizarre notion of spanking and the other thing he had said indicated there were something wrong with him.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll see you in the morning. We can talk about this later." He stood up and regarded her from above, where she still sat on the side of the little bed covered with the pink comforter.

"Wait," Maud said. "Don't you want… I mean, you know…" She smiled and patted the bed. No sex games for her, thank you, but suddenly she very much wanted… well, she wanted David, and there was nothing wrong with that as even her parents acknowledged. To have sex in her childhood bed, which she had never before done with a boyfriend, would be fun, right?

David's mouth twisted into a wry, lopsided smile. "I don't think so, Maud. I want you at least to think about how you didn't tell me something I really needed to know."

With that, he had left her room. They hadn't talked about it, because Maud changed the subject every time David brought it up. David, with whom Maud had by Christmas fallen desperately in love, more desperately than she had ever loved anyone before, endeared himself to her all the more with his extraordinary patience. Every time she steered the conversation away from her parents and Thanksgiving — the dinner and the strange sex-game proposal in her room afterward — she saw that wry smile flash across his face, and he let it drop.

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