A Slut's Education Ch. 07 - FINALE

"You should know," I explain to Kelli while I work, next picking up Deanna in my arms like a bride going over the elopement threshold, and bundle her into the trunk, "this weekend changed me too."

I say his while I further subdue my squirming cargo. Positioning Deanna on her side, I bend her legs up toward her ass, take the slack end of the rope from the C-belt hook and truss up her ankles in a hogtie. Nothing too strict, but effective enough for the road.

"I went in with my plan laid out to the very last, most minute detail. And I had not a shred of doubt I was in utter and complete control."

"I know how you are, Master."

"Right." Looking down at Deanna, I decide to untie her elbows, then, what the heck, I loosen the straps of her ballgag, a little. "I was in strict control ... until I wasn't."

"Until Deanna ..."

I find a blanket to drape over my captive and conceal her. Then as an afterthought, I lift up a corner of the cloth, and lay a hard, mean, open-handed wallop on her bare flank.

*SMAK!*

"Mmpphh!"

That chore finished, I shut the trunk. Dusting off my hands, I turn and lean back against the car, giving Kelli my undivided attention.

"Right. Deanna terrified me," I go on. "I was scared shitless at the thought of losing you to her. And to be honest, I mean that in the most selfish way, that she was taking what was mine -- more than my fear about what she might do to you."

Kelli looks back at me, a little concerned. "But you thought about that, right? About me?"

"Sure," I say. "But this is about me right now, not you, slut."

"Yes, Master," she replies, seemingly without irony.

"Deanna threatened to take away my control. She was the Chaos Factor in my rule-governed Order. The electric-fence failure in my Jurassic Park. But even if it wasn't her there, it would've been something else. If not something external, then something inside ..."

"Me."

"You understand. I realized --"

"You can't control everything, Sir."

I smile. Clever girl. "Not even you. Especially you."

"So now what?"

I see past her, the ocean stretching away farther than the eye can see, and against that backdrop, Kelli looks vaguely adrift.

I reply, "We start over. Or not. You decide."

Her lips part and her eyes glow, like she is seeing a new world. "I decide ..."

"You can walk away," I suggest.

You don't reply, and for once, I can't read you.

"Or if we start over, we negotiate every term from the ground up. You set your boundaries, I respect them. Live your life fully in the parts that are yours ... but give yourself completely to me in the parts that are mine. And no more games --"

"From either of us," she says with a rueful smile that seems to put the blame on one of us ... but I'm not sure which.

"Sure. Right."

"If we're starting from the ground floor, the first thing is ..." she pauses. "I have to learn to trust you."

"And I have to work my ass off to earn that. That's on me, Kelli. And I won't lie, I may not succeed. And if I don't, well ..."

"Then I'll have my answer," she nods.

"Exactly. My clever slut."

"I was clever," she says, "before I was a slut."

"How about we start out with a nice, romantic dinner date?"

To my surprise, she sort of recoils. "Like, 'bf-gf'? Eww! What are you, like, forty?"

"I'm thirty-seven!"

"Still! I'm eighteen. That's just ... creepy."

I am irked by this. Then puzzled. Putting aside that it's not unheard of, that age gap between consenting adults, provided the there's maturity on both sides ... Well, umm, "consenting?" Now I'm confusing myself. Still, she has made herself clear, and if that's how she feels about it ... So much for my visions of the young, gorgeous, smiling Asian trophy-girlfriend, publicly displayed on my arm. Glad I didn't actually suggest it out loud.

As if she's reading my mind, she states flatly, "You were never my boyfriend. You were my Master."

I shift gears. "Which you chose."

"Chose?" she sputters. "You blackmailed me into having sex with you! Remember?"

"I do remember. And?"

"And, and you --" The wind picks up again, as does her spirit. "You took advantage of me, of my, my -- I was a freshman, just eighteen! -- not even one month into Cal! You took advantage of my naiveté, my inexperience with men. Just out of my sheltered home, going away from my parents, my mom! -- for the first time ever." She stammers, "I, I, I -- I was a virgin!"

She is shaking with rage. I am taken aback. But none of this is misplaced on her part, or undeserved on mine.

"And what did you do, you turned me into a, a sex-slave? A sex-slave! Nothing but three holes for you to use -- holes? And you expected me to turn my back on what I was before? A scholar, an athlete -- winner of three UC academic and athletic scholarships! You wanted me to kneel, naked at your feet, lift up my ass so you could fuck it! -- Snap, snap. Up! Lift my ass! --"

"You did it because your pussy told you to obey," I say in my own defense. "Not me."

"My God, what was I doing?"

"Remember," I say calmly, "I put my first mark on you, your collar, without asking. But the next marks, your cuffs, you begged me for --"

"Begged --?"

"Consented to, okay. And think back, before I made my next marks -- the tongue-stud, pussy-piercings, fuck-handles, tattoo -- you had already called me on my blackmail bluff. Tell me I'm wrong!"

She doesn't reply.

"You said it yourself. 'You can destroy me, but is that what you want? Three holes and no spirit?' You knew the answer: I did not."

Still nothing.

I press my point. "You returned to your slavery willingly,"

Still nothing. She is looking past me up the road, eyes narrowed, face unreadable.

Until finally ... "I have to think about this. Can I just have some quiet time, and we can pick it up later on the ride home?"

I am confused at first. "You think we're riding together? Kelli, you came in your own car!"

"What --?" She is stunned. Color and expression draining from her face, she swings around and stares at the beach house. Now, her car isn't visible to her from where we are, it's on the side driveway, behind the far corner of the house. But that's not what confuses her. It's that she is realizing she didn't remember how she got here, just three days ago ... that and who know what else? She is still reorienting, recovering ... a lot of it still, as she put it, "a jumble."

When she turns back to look at me, I'm already holding out her car keys. "I went ahead and packed your stuff before you got up."

Hesitantly, her eyes uncertain but bitter, she takes the keys from me. And before she turns away, shaking her head, she speaks in a whisper, "What have you done to me?"

I watch her go. I watch her walk down the road back to the beach house, swinging her slim, sexy hips and the compact, perfect bubbles of the ass that her tight jeans were crafted to flatter ... that deliciously petite chink-ass that I love so much, swaying under the banner of her wind-whipped, silky black chink-hair that I love too ... and imagining her small but sweetly rounded chink-titties bouncing under her camisole as she walks ... the sunlight warming her perfect, golden chink-skin.

I watch her get smaller as she recedes in my view. But as small as she gets, one thing that doesn't escape my notice is that, the farther she walks, the more confidence I see animating her gait. And just before she disappears around the corner of the house, I see her jauntily toss and catch her car keys.

By the way, I've decided before I start up my own car, I'm going to wait for her to get ahead of me. I realize that given my, er, cargo, I'm going to take the road home as carefully as I know how, so as not to risk any fender-benders or encounters with the law. So, no point in slowing her down. I'll see her at my house in San Francisco. She has her own key.

It's a good question she asks, What have you done to me?

I could take it so many ways.

What I decide to do is, take it every single way imaginable.

That is what I'm thinking about when her blue Honda trundles up the dirt road and approaches the shoulder where my car is parked. I look to see if, as she goes by, she turns her head to give me -- what? A smile, a wave, a middle finger? But just as she passes, a brilliant stab of sunlight catches the windshield and passenger-side window, and inside, Kelli is nothing but a smear of golden light sailing by. And soon enough, the cloud of dust her car left in its wake has settled, and Kelli is gone.

I miss her already.

I shrug, open the door and get behind the wheel. As I rev up my Model 3 with a touch of the POWER button, I say it out loud,

"Drive safe, slut."

**THE END**