To Her Taste Pt. 02

"Okay," I said, this time much more confidently, waiting for her to explain the terms.

She sat up and swept her legs, positioning herself in that familiar position, with her legs spread to either side of me.

"I want you to show me just how sorry you are. And if you do a very good job and show that you're really, really sorry, I promise to be gentle with you." She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

I was quivering a little. I wasn't sure how to respond. I could accept the deal, after all, eating her pussy wasn't so bad, but it was definitely a submissive act, which I didn't want to do on principle at this point. Then, while looking up at her, my eyes glanced at the hanging board of implements. If I declined, my ass would be thrashed, and declining her offer might piss her off even more, making it even worse. She squinted, looking impatient at my hesitation.

"Okay." I resigned myself, looking down from her face to her midriff.

"Okay, what?" She asked sternly, leaning forward.

"Okay- I mean." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I accept." I just leaned forward to start, not looking up at her, but she pulled back and closed her legs.

"No, Marcus, you must tell me you're sorry."

I took a long inhale through my nose.

"I'm sorry, Madame Agafonov." I said, trying to lean in again. However, she didn't budge. I looked up at her and she maintained a stern look on her face.

"I see you're not taking this very seriously. Very well." She turned to get off my desk, looking at the board of implements.

"Wait! I-"

She stopped to look at me.

"Please, Madame Agafonov," I started, "I'm sorry. I- I want to be a good boy, b-but I- I, I'm uh, bad at expressing myself."

Her expression softened.

"I'm sorry I tried to touch you inappropriately. Please, let me show you how sorry I am." I looked up at her with pleading eyes. She flipped her hair and looked at me with some contemplation for a long moment. I looked into her eyes, and clutched my hands together to look even more pitiful.

"Very well, I'll give you a chance to properly apologize. Do not disappoint me." She opened her legs again.

I leaned forward once more. As less of my ass was on the seat, the pressure increased, and it hurt even more. I cursed myself, and decided to kick the chair back and get on my knees where I could be free of the pain.

Fuck, this was not going as planned. She looked down at me, expectant yet still as stern as before. Part of me wanted to just stand up and walk out, but I knew that wasn't an option, and at this point I just wanted to soothe her indignation.

I looked at her reverently, and tentatively reached out and grabbed one of her ankles. My eyes never left her, as I wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally set her off by touching her again. Her expression didn't change, which I took as a sign to keep going. I remembered something a Quebecois man once said about how to please a woman, and I softly kissed her stocking-clad shin. From there I worked my hands up her leg, and laid another kiss just below her knee. I could see a wry grin slowly form out of the corners of her red lips.

I slowly moved up again, this time landing a soft kiss on her lower, inner thigh. She spread her legs further in a perverse welcome. From there I slid my head under her skirt, where I could really start to smell her sex. I kissed her then on the top of her inner thigh, my cheek nearly pressing against her black panties. I looked at my sheathed target, and took another inhale, inadvertently getting a lung-full of her lust. Then, I moved in and kissed her panties.

Oh no, she was wet! Really, really wet. I swear, my lips basically stuck to her soaked panties. She really liked this, which only further disturbed me. Then, I realized I wasn't sure what to do. I was supposed to do a really, really good job, right? I wasn't all that experienced, so I didn't know how to spice it up. She wanted me to come off as submissive and respectful, right?

"Madame Agafonov, may I please take off your panties?" I sounded pathetic, and I hated it.

"Mhmm" I heard her groan before she lifted her skirt like she had done the previous days so that she could get a good look at my face and work. And vice versa, I could see her face, and it had already begun to melt into a softer lust. She was even biting her lower lip again. I hated it, but I couldn't deny it was a sexy scene.

"You may."

I gave her wet, pantied pussy another kiss, then moved to take them off.

"With your teeth!" she clarified.

I cringed at the denigration, hating how much she was enjoying this. I grasped her panties gently with my teeth and began to pull them down to just above her knees; she watched intently the whole time. Then I could see her pussy, already puffy and wet, ready and waiting for me. I hesitated. Was I really about to do this? What happened to accepting my punishment with a high head? Now I was kneeling before her. I glanced up at her with some hesitation, just in time to see her tongue swipe through her lips in sinful expectation.

I moved it and planted a soft kiss on her labia. Then another, and then one on her clitoral hood. I closed my eyes in painful anticipation before latching my lips onto hers like a remora. She liked that, and liked it even more when I ran my tongue up her slit, eliciting a slight shiver.

For the next several minutes I licked and sucked dutifully. I was softer than before. My licks were slower and more deliberate, more attentive of her reactions. Likewise, I barely took my eyes from her face, as I knew she liked my glimmering, blue eyes. Despite my softer, slow licks and suckles, she came more quickly than before. Soon her thighs quivered and her face blushed and moaned, and I was subjected to a tidal wave of her love-cream, which I hesitantly licked up. I kept sucking and licking, deciding it would be a bad idea to stop without her telling me, sucking ever more softly and running my tongue around her clit.

"Mhmm, you may stop."

I unlatched my lips and just looked up at her. She looked very satisfied.

"You did a very good job, Marcus. I'm very pleased." One part of me felt a shiver of embarrassment, another part fluttered, and smaller one again grew hard in my cage.

"Now get up." she ordered, corrected her clothing and slid off my desk. I got back on my chair. She walked over to her desk and then returned with two pieces.

"I was going to start giving you homework next week, but your punishment is to start it now, beginning with this."

She set the paper on my desk and I started to read the instructions.

"Write 10 Compliments for Women in your Life. List 10 ways you can be a better man. Write why it's important to respect women; 100 words. Write a sexual fantasy; 75 words. Correct the following paragraph."

"I will correct your mistakes tomorrow." she told me as I looked over the page.

The assignment would be another nail in the coffin of my pride, but I was quite relieved to avoid another ass-thrashing.

"Thank you, Madame Agafonov." I said without thinking. She seemed to like that. There was a knock at the door.

Ramina came and collected me, exchanging a few words with Madame Agafonov.

"I see you had another very productive lesson with Madame Agafonov." She said once we were outside the room, smiling a white, shiny smile at me. I knew what she meant; my face was probably glazed, and I could still taste and smell Madame Agafonov, and feel her texture on my tongue. I really wished I had some mouthwash.

Her comment made me cringe and shrink. I didn't really respond, just lowered my gaze and put my left hand on my right bicep, rubbing it.

"Come." she ordered, leading me to that curtained room again. She again dismissed me to wash my face, which I did enthusiastically. Once I returned and sat down at the table I winced slightly in pain, as my butt landed on the chair. Fortunately, this one was quite comfortable and padded. She smiled at my wince.

"How's your butt?" she asked smugly.

"I think you can guess." I muttered back. She didn't like that, and slapped the table.

"Marcus, do you need another lesson in respect?"

"No, no, please. I'm sorry. It... it still hurts a little." I responded in a minor panic.

"That's better." Just then a waiter arrived with two platters of the same dish for us. It was fried chicken breast with a mushroom and black-pepper sauce. It smelled amazing and my stomach immediately grumbled, and I immediately reached for my knife and fork to chow down.

"Ah, ah, ah, Marcus. You must wait for your superiors to start."

I stopped and stared at her. She hesitated, then slowly grasped her own cutlery and with an agonizing sloth cut threw one piece of the chicken breast, then took a small bite.

"Now, you may begin."

At that, I began to scarf down my brunch.

"Thak, how was your lesson today?" she asked, still eating her serving.

"Uh, it was interesting. I didn't know Russian had two words for 'blue.'"

"I'm glad you're paying attention. You're a smart boy, you'll be fluent in no time."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that comment, so I just didn't respond. After some moments passed, I decided to try my luck again.

"Ramina, could I please have something to read in my room? I'm going to go mad in there."

"Really? First of all, you haven't earned the right to call me by my first name yet. Second, you're really going to ask me for something after what you said yesterday?" She seemed incredulous, and a bit offended.

"Please, I learned my lesson. I promise to be good, but please give me something! You stick me in there for over 20 hours a day with nothing to do."

"Hmmm" she hm'd, "I am feeling generous today. If you get on your knees and beg, and show me that you learned your lesson... maybe I will give you something."

I sighed, and decided to just try to get it over with. I really didn't want to go through solitary until the next morning. I got on my knees, clasped my hands, and looked up at her.

"Please, Miss Kavalski, can I have some entertainment."

"You call that begging? No."

"Please?!"

"No. But you should be happy to hear that you have a new training regiment starting this evening."

"What kind of training?"

"Physical. Now get up. If you behave well, tomorrow I will give you another chance to beg for something."

With that, she concluded our meeting and I was led back to my room. I noticed there was a box with more clothes in it: two gray tank tops and a set of exercise shorts. I put them aside, expecting to need them rather soon. I didn't know how much time I had, but I was sure it would be plenty; it wasn't even noon yet. I sat down cross-legged on the ground and began to work on my homework. I looked at the instructions again:

""Write 10 Compliments for Women in your Life. List 10 ways you can be a better man. Write why it's important to respect women; 100 words. Write a sexual fantasy; 75 words. Correct the following paragraph."

I wasn't sure where to start. I decided to start with the easier and work my way from there. I opened my notes and my English-Russian dictionary and started working on the first. Did it mean just general compliments, or compliments for specific women? I decided to go with the latter and got working.

1. My mother is very nice.
2. My mother is a very good cook.

I probably couldn't get away with just doing my mom over-and-over, right?

1. Miss Kavalski is pretty.

1. Madame Agafonov is smart.

I had already begun to run out of ideas. I tapped my pencil against the paper.

1. Miss Kavalski has nice hair.

1. Miss Kavalski has interesting eyes.

I chuckled at the last one.

1. Katerina has pretty eyes.

1. Madame Agafonov is stylish.

I ran out of ideas again, and decided to just make the last ones very kiss-ass.

1. Madame Agafonov is a good teacher.

1. Madame Agafonov is hot.

Now for the next one. How to be a better man? Hmmm...

1. I can learn how to cook.
2. I can learn how to be nice.
3. I can exercise.
4. I can dress nicely.
5. I can give to charity.
6. I can volunteer.
7. I can open doors for people.
8. I can read more.
9. I can not drink.
10. I can work hard.

That should be good enough, right? Next I decided to get to work correcting the paragraph written out for errors. It was a brief retelling of Little Red Riding-Hood, and I was able to find about ten mistakes. Then I got to the last two brief essay prompts. Why it's important to respect women and a sexual fantasy?

For the prompt on why it's important to respect women I regurgitated a bunch of platitudes I learned growing up in California. The one on sexual fantasy was a little more intimidating. I thought of just lying and coming up with one about how I want to see women in chains in my basement, but the ice I was on was thin enough, so I decided against it. Instead I chose to write something stereotypically male and not too-revealing. So, after about 45 minutes of constantly looking back and forth through my dictionary I wrote about how I'd like a harem of beautiful women from around the world. It was also pretty truthful; I did enjoy women of every ethnicity. I noticed I was still about 10 words short, so I wrote a facetious ending about how I wanted a black woman whose tits bore chocolate milk.

Finally, I was done. However, I still had plenty of time to kill, so I decided to go over it again twice, correcting a few mistakes that I made. For the next few hours I just laid on my mattress, staring at the ceiling. True to her word, Ramina came to collect me, though dressed nicely, not for exercise.

"Change into your new clothes. It's time to go." she ordered simply. I complied and changed, turning my back to her, as she didn't want to give me any privacy, and then followed. We went to a different floor, this one about ten lower than we were on. It was better-lit, looked like it was used more often, and then I was led into a fully-stocked gym that stretched across two stories, complete with a running-track. In terms of people, the place was empty except for us and a short, brown-haired and freckled woman.

"This is Miss Jana Zdravi, she will train you." Ramina introduced.

I looked at her. She was quite pretty. Her brown hair was straight and shiny, tied into a ponytail behind her. Her face was adorned with green eyes and a myriad of freckles on her pale skin. Below she bore C-cups and some nice hips, covered in some simple, conservative work-out clothing. She looked quite fit and slender, with some very-obvious definition to her arms and legs. She also was really quite short, no more than 155 centimeters. She looked quite young, probably the youngest I'd seen here; I'd guess around 19 or 20 years old.

Jana smiled warmly at me, showing her charismatic white teeth.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" she said in a high-pitched voice, offering her hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Zdravi." I said, shaking her hand.

"Please, call me Jana." she giggled. I already liked her; she seemed quite sweet and non-threatening, which was a nice change of pace for me.

"Jana here will train you five-days-a-week. She will get you fit." Ramina said. I felt a little embarrassed at the implication I wasn't fit, but it was true. I had lost a lot of weight the last month, but I had always been rather tubby, and my recent solitude left my muscles quite atrophied.

"Uh, okay."

Jana giggled again.

"Now, I will leave you. You do everything that she says and be on your best behavior, okay?" Ramina said.

She reminded me of my mother telling me to behave for a babysitter. It was also embarrassing being addressed like that in front of Jana. How much did she know? Was she another of Ramina's friends, or just a physical trainer she hired? I was guessing the former, or something in-between.

"Yess, Miss Kavalski." I said meekly, which brought a smug smile from Ramina and more giggles from Jana.

"Good. Ciao." she said, leaving me with the petite trainer.

"It is nice to meet you. I heard a lot about you." She admitted, her smile unceasing.

"Uh, oh really? Only good things, I hope."

She giggled again and just looked at me. I was already getting sweaty, and the workout hadn't even begun.

"Yes. You look very promising. Now, take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Take off your shirt."

"Why?"

"I want to see what I'm working with."

"Are you serious?" I blushed.

"Yes."

We stood there for a couple of seconds, just looking at each other. I had just been told less than a minute ago to do what she said, so I complied and slipped off my shirt.

"Mm, it seems we have a lot of work to do." She stepped closer and put a hand on my bicep, giving it a soft pinch. She was still smiling in her bubbly fashion the whole time. I wanted to step back or push her away or something, or just tell her to stop, but I reluctantly just stood there and let her look me up and down.

"Okay, you can put your shirt back on. It's time to get to work!" she said cheerfully.

For the next 80 minutes I followed her directions. First we did some basic stretches, which gave me a good look at her amazing, fit legs. Next, she directed me to a treadmill, and had me walk and then jog on that at various speeds for about 20 minutes. During that I started to feel uncomfortable with the way she was looking at me. Normally when I was in a room with someone long enough, especially something like a gym, I'd intermittently just look away and stare at something else, but she was watching me the whole time. Even jogging on the treadmill I could feel her behind me, just watching. Next, was some pretty simple routines: leg press, push-ups, bicep curls, etc..

By the end of it I was sweating pretty hard and constantly stopping at the water fountain.

"Good job Marcus, that's it for today."

As if on cue, Ramina returned.

"How did he do?" she asked Jana.

"He needs a lot of work, but he did well."

Ramina looked at me, panting and sweating while sitting and resting on one of the machines. They exchanged some more words in Russian, ones more advanced than what I knew, and Jana giggled.

"Come!" Ramina ordered me. I stood and followed, too exhausted to even think about being angry about being ordered around.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Marcus." Jana smiled at me.

Tomorrow, again? I was going to still be sore by then, but I guess it was better than sitting in my room for hours on-end.

I didn't really respond to her, I just kept walking and was eventually led to my room. Before opening the door and ushering me inside, Ramina stopped and took a long look up-and-down over my sweaty body. I don't know what she was thinking, but it was definitely something. Then, I was left inside my room. I decided to take a long, hot shower. I hate being sweaty. Afterwards I returned to my room and changed my clothes, happy to see that some dinner had been left for me while I was showering. Unfortunately, it consisted of some shitty chicken nuggets, garlic soup, and a little unsweetened yogurt. I scarfed it down, still hungry. I seethed as I chewed, contemplating how Ramina could, at that moment, be eating caviar and sipping champagne. What a bitch....

Afterwards I brushed my teeth, laid down on my mattress, and stared at the ceiling until I passed out, which didn't take long.