Come on, before she asks questions you don’t have the answers to, like usual. “Why do I have to say it?”
“It tells me a lot about your sexual confidence, Bodie, and right now you’re screaming you don’t have any. You have a beautiful body, sweetheart, you need to own it. Every inch, head to toe, including your pussy.” Connie’s gray eyes were like quiet storms, patiently waiting. “I can see you doubt that. Do you think Braun is only interested in you for your cunt, Boadicea?”
Bodie recoiled. She hated that fucking word so much she wanted to scrub it off the face of the earth with bleach, hot water, and a polish of dynamite. “Don’t use that word,” she hissed vehemently.
Connie hummed lightly and eased back. “Now I wish I’d brought my notebook. Hang on a second.” She rose and, kicking off her heels, padded to Braun’s desk. She rummaged through his drawers until she found a notepad and pen. Flicking it open, amusement flashed over her face. “Gave you lines, did he? He’s a smart man, your Master.”
“He’s not my Master.” Yes, he is. Stop denying it.
Brooding, embarrassed the evidence of her first punishment had come to light, Bodie buried herself in the mound of cushions. Braun was going to pay for this, big time.
Chapter Nine
Mortification knew no bounds when Connie was in charge. It just swelled and multiplied with every second, and every second lasted a lifetime as the Mistress scribbled quickly on a fresh page of the notepad. No doubt she was chronicling Bodie’s faults down to the last hair in her tousled ponytail.
“Have fifty minutes passed yet?”
“Nope.” Connie’s eyes didn’t lift from the paper, the scribbling didn’t slow, but she popped the p expertly. “Lots of time still to go, Boadicea.”
“How do you know?” Bodie demanded. “You haven’t even looked at a clock!”
“Because fifty-minute hours are my livelihood. There’s an alarm clock in my head,” the Mistress answered absently. She tapped the end of the pen on her full lips, then rested her hand on her thigh. “Let’s explore the negative connotations you associate with the word cunt, Bodie. That was an incredibly negative reaction.”
I hate it because it’s a horrible, demeaning, vile word.
“What’s to like about it?” Bodie snarked, suddenly feeling cornered in her corner of the couch. “Surely there has to be a less offensive term for...that.”
“Several,” Connie told her with a sly smile. “Coochie, beaver, vajayjay, lady garden, snatch, muff, honeypot—”
“Stop it!” Bodie slapped her hands over her ears until she saw Connie’s lips stop moving. Warily, she lowered them and glared at the Mistress. “That wasn’t funny.”
Completely unapologetic, Connie’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s a vagina, Bodie. Everyone calls it something different, not all of them pleasant to others’ ears, but it’s part of what makes us women. It’s the gateway to creation, literally. It’s a source of immense fun, great pain, and has several functions. I’m not sure this aversion you have to yours is healthy.”
She’d survived this long without difficulty, hadn’t she? She hadn’t died or gotten sick from not using the damn thing. “I don’t see what business that has to do with you or anyone else.”
Connie lifted her spread hands with an arched eyebrow. “It’s Braun’s business, sweetheart, and he in turn has enlightened my life and made it mine. Think about where you are and what you are to Braun. Sex is everywhere here; sex usually requires an orifice in which to copulate. One fan favorite orifice is the vagina. Tell me what you felt when Braun performed oral sex on you.”
No fucking way. Just remembering his mouth on her made her wet and antsy. Reliving that memory...yeah, not happening. Folding her metaphorical arms stubbornly over her chest, Bodie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s fine. Luckily for you, I’m a nice therapist. Time spent in silence isn’t counted toward the fifty minutes, so you can take as long as you to reflect on the question.” Connie wiggled deeper into the chair, making herself comfortable, and simply linked her fingers together in her lap.
She didn’t say anything else.
Wait, what? Bodie sat up right, mouth open. “You can’t do that!”
“Of course, I can. Technically, this isn’t my office, but my rules most certainly apply. We’re here for a reason, one I was led to believe you approved of, and once I have a goal in mind, I’m pretty much set on achieving it. So, you have three options, sweetheart.”
Silence, walk, or talk.
“Start talking and give me something to