Bound for the Tour Read online

  “Oh, please don’t do that!” Shelly exclaimed, the fear evident in her huge brown eyes. “I’ll start right away. What should I do?”

  “First, put your wrists up to your neck,” he said. When she did, he locked them in place on either side with his controller.

  “Now bend over, get that tongue of yours as far out as it will go, and start licking,” he said. “Hurry up about it!”

  Hesitantly, the lovely innocent bent her head low between Emily’s open thighs until her mouth was nearly in contact with her golden-furred mound. She stopped, unsure of what to do next, waiting for further directions from her coach.

  Instead of advice, Shelly heard a loud smack! as her posterior was scorched with what felt like fire. She shrieked “Eeee!” and spun around to see Traynor holding a broad, thick wooden paddle. He had a grim expression on his face.

  “Do you need a few more to warm you up, or would you rather start following instructions?” he asked.

  “I don’t need more, please!” she yelped. “Oh, that hurt so much, Mr. Traynor! I’m starting right now. Don’t hit me, please!” she begged. Shelly immediately turned back and swooped down on Emily without an instant of hesitation.

  “Keep your legs straight, and open up your stance,” Traynor said.

  Shelly obeyed. She tried to see what he up to out of the corner of her eye while she continued to work her tongue as actively as she could into Emily’s sex.

  Traynor reached between Shelly’s legs, stroking her expertly with his knowing fingers. The beautiful Native American girl moaned at the intimate contact, but she did not dare to stop for an instant laving Emily’s secret parts with her long tongue. Traynor’s fingers pressed gently into Shelly and explored. As he had already known, the girl was intact, a virgin. He continued to fondle her familiarly and she could not help responding. Within moments, she was aroused, and her intimate muscle were tensing and trembling with her almost uncontrollable excitement. Although Emily was embarrassed, indeed humiliated, to be served by a woman in this way (especially with Traynor watching), she was unable to restrain her reaction. Shelly’s gasps of outrage (or was it pleasure?) made Emily tingle with a strange excitement.

  Traynor took his erection out of his pants, and pressed it up against Shelly’s maidenhood like an oversize key about to be forced into an undersized lock. “I hope you weren’t planning to leave this place as a virgin,” he said.

  “Nnnnn! Pllllsss!” mumbled the Native American girl desperately. She began to turn her head to face him.

  In response, Traynor let her have it again with the oak paddle. It made a loud whack! left an oblong red mark on the back of her thigh and caused Shelly to jump a foot into the air.

  “Get back to licking that slut. I won’t say it again,” he growled.

  Reluctantly, she lowered her head and resumed the task to which he had set her. Emily sighed as Shelly’s tongue began to flick at her most sensitive places, almost as though Shelly had been performing this sort of intimate caress for years.

  “That’s better,” Traynor said. “Now let’s get on with this.” He steadily advanced into Shelly until he encountered a little resistance. “This may sting a bit,” he told her. “But don’t stop what you’re doing unless you want to feel the paddle again,” he warned.

  Shelly whined, but nodded her head in compliance. It was clear to Emily that Traynor already had Shelly Littlehawk completely under his thumb. It was obvious that he could do whatever he wanted with her. She suspected that this little session of sex (after all, everyone involved had consented, hadn’t they?) was about more than satisfying his perverted desires. It was Traynor’s way of reminding them that he would be calling the shots from here on in.

  “Ahhh!” Shelly cried out into Emily’s pussy. “Uhhh! Uhhh! Ooooo!” she groaned in distress as Traynor deflowered her and then continued on deeply into her with one long, continuous stroke.

  Somehow, the unfortunate Shelly’s suffering at being taken from the rear while being forced to please Emily with her tongue made the blonde girl even more excited than before. A tiny part of her conscious mind knew it was wrong to enjoy another human’s suffering, but a more primitive layer of her found it violently stimulating. Without warning, an orgasm exploded in her body.

  Emily screamed in pleasure, making strange muffled sounds through the gag like “Nnnnrrrr!” and “Arrrgggg!” and Shelley’s face was suddenly drenched.

  The latter, meanwhile, had discovered that the initial pain faded away very quickly as Traynor continued to slide in and out of her. The pain was replaced by a sensation she had never before experienced, at least not so strongly: growing sexual excitement. Soon, Shelly’s hips moving back to meet Traynor’s thrusts, trying to take him in as deeply as she could by timing the movements of her lower body to his long, slow strokes.

  Very quickly, it was Shelly Littlehawk’s turn to lose control of herself. Unthinkingly, she raised her head from between Emily’s thighs, threw back her head and howled. “Oh God, do it harder, please! Deeper, harder, please!” she shrieked. Emily stared up in amazement at the contorted features of the Native American beauty who only a few minutes before had been almost totally inexperienced in the joys of physical pleasure.

  Traynor’s fingers dug into the flesh of Shelly’s hips, and the pace of his attack quickened. He now drove in and out of her in a frenzy of excitement. “Fuck me, you little bitch!” he bellowed. He whacked her three more times with the heavy paddle, making her scream each time, before exploding deep inside her. The pulsing inside her combined with the furious pace of his strokes sent the girl over the top. She screamed wordlessly, bouncing on him like a maniac as she climaxed.

  Afterwards, exhausted, Shelly’s head drooped on her long neck, coming to rest on the desk between Emily’s thighs. She had never imagined that anything could feel as good as sex with Traynor had. She could not understand why she did not feel guilty, dirty and worthless after enjoying, actually enjoying being used in such a degrading, filthy way. Instead, she felt fine, as relaxed as though all her bones had gently melted away. There was a warm glow all over her body. She smiled, and wondered vaguely if he would like to do it again.

  As if he had read her thoughts, Traynor pulled Shelly’s head up by her hair and said, “Funtime’s over now. Tomorrow morning you two will get to work.”

  Chapter Three: The Basics

  Emily was still nude. Technically, she was not completely nude, although she was not wearing any clothing. She was carrying a huge, heavy Tour-style golf bag on her back, with the strap running down from her shoulder between her breasts to her hip. Her only other apparel was a pair of golf shoes.

  “We are going to start by getting back to basics, Thayer,” Traynor said. “One of your problems is your mental approach and preparation. When you get in trouble, you don’t really believe in your game, so you get wound up as tight as a spring, and your swing just falls to pieces. I am going to change that.” As he spoke, he was sorting through some small objects in the palm of his hand that he had taken from his pocket. “Over the next six months, or year, however long it takes, you are going rebuild your swing from scratch, and you will do it my way. When you are finished, you’ll have a swing you can count on.”

  He approached Emily. She saw that the objects were little metal discs with toothed clips on the backs. They looked a little like the ball markers that were designed to clip to a golf cap, although Emily was pretty sure they were nothing so innocuous.

  He held one up for her to look at. “These little gadgets will help you focus your attention wonderfully. They’re my own invention. I call ’em ‘Stimulaides’, and I’ll show you why in a second. Stand still.”

  With his free hand, he grasped Emily’s nipple between his thumb and index finger, then squeezed and twirled it expertly until it stood at attention. Emily watched wide-eyed as Traynor thumbed open the one of the little toothed clips, forcing the toothed jaws apart, then lowered it over her nipple and released it, allowing the spr
ing to pull the jaws back together. The little teeth bit viciously into the tender flesh.

  Emily yelped in pain and automatically raised her hand to pull the horrid little thing off.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Traynor growled in warning, not even pausing in his manipulation of Emily’s other nipple. She reluctantly lowered her hand, clenching her jaws as sharp signals of pain spread.

  “Now that I think about it, you better cross your wrists behind your back,” Traynor said.

  “How can I caddy for you if I can’t hand you the clubs?” Emily protested.

  “Just do what I tell you!” he snapped. “I’ll worry about the details.”

  Reluctantly, Emily put her hands together in the small of her back, between her body and the golf bag. There was a soft click! as Traynor pushed the controller in his pocket. Emily surreptitiously tried to separate her hands. As she had expected, they were now locked together by the magnetic bracelets.

  “Now spread your legs, Thayer. Nice and wide, like you were waiting in bed for your boyfriend,” Traynor said.

  For an instant, Emily questioned whether she had made the right decision in coming to Traynor, and then she sighed and opened her legs shoulder-width apart. It was too late to turn back now.

  “No, you stupid bitch, I want them wide open, wide enough that your pussy is saying hello,” Traynor snarled.

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said. She shifted her feet until her long, tanned legs were a full five feet apart.

  “Better,” he said, holding up another of the little toothed clips. “Now don’t move. I have one more of these little gizmos to attach to you. By now, I’m sure you can guess where it’s going.”

  “You aren’t putting that thing on my…” Emily blurted.

  “You guessed it,” Traynor said, smiling. He knelt down between Emily’s legs and reached his forefinger into her. “Aroused already?” he asked. “You seem to have a real taste for being dominated, did you know that? Well, you came to the right place for it. Aren’t you the lucky one?” He continued to stroke and fondle her as he spoke.

  Hot blood rushed to Emily’s cheeks. She had never even thought about experimenting with kinky sex, like bondage, submission or sado-masochism. Well, there was the one roommate from college who told her stories about an S & M club she had visited, and now as she remembered it, it had sounded kind of exciting in a bizarre way. But still…

  “Ahhh! Owwww! Christ! that hurts!” Her thoughts were interrupted by the vicious bite of the little teeth. She hopped up and down and side to side in agony. Every movement made the hideous device jiggle, sending out fresh twinges. After a minute or so, she mastered herself, keeping her body from twisting in pain, and stood still.

  “What… does this… ahh!... have to do… with… gahh!... teaching me a golf… grr!... swing?” Emily gasped out.

  Traynor looked at the suffering girl with evident satisfaction. “Good question,” he said. “I am going to play a round of golf as you would play it. I’m familiar with your game, and we hit about the same distance: you’re longer than average for a woman, and I’m past my prime and a little shorter than I was. We are going to work on the mental aspect of the game. Can you guess the rest?”

  She tried to concentrate. He was going to be her, so she was… “I tell you what club to hit, as if I was playing the round myself…” He nodded. “If I get it wrong, you…”

  “I punish you,” he finished for her. “I give you pain until you learn to play smart golf. The psychologists call it ‘operant conditioning’. One big reason you failed on the Tour was that you made stupid choices, by trying to do more than you could, by attempting impossible shots when you got in trouble, and the end result was that merely bad holes turned into disasters. After you leave here, you will not make those kinds of mental errors again.”

  “But if you hit a bad shot, I get punished even if I picked the right club,” Emily complained. You sadistic bastard, she finished mentally.

  Traynor shook his head. “No, no. If I hit a bad shot, I won’t take it out on you,” he said. “I have no doubt that you’ll make plenty of boneheaded choices on your own.”

  Oddly enough, the way he said it, she believed him. He would play honestly and only punish her if she made poor decisions.

  Emily had one final objection. “I’ve never played this course. I’ve never even seen it before. How can I know what the right club should be?”

  “Good point,” Traynor said. He took something from his pocket and clipped it to the bag strap where it passed between Emily’s breasts. He manipulated the object until she could see a small screen showing a diagram of a golf hole. On the screen she read the words “Traynor’s Hideaway…” (which was the name of his private golf course where they were playing) “…Number One. 394 yards, Par 4.”

  “That’s a GPS for you, loaded with all the course information,” he said. “If you have any other questions, just ask. If there’s some trouble up ahead that you can’t see, I’ll tell you about it,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get started sometime today.” With that, he strode to the first tee.

  Emily did not see how she would be able to concentrate with the painful little clamps on her nipples and between her legs, but when Traynor tapped in for a par on the first hole, she discovered that she already had gotten used to them. Indeed, by the time they were walking up to his second shot on the par 5 third hole, instead of a pinching pain there was a warm, pleasant sensation flowing from the tips of her breasts and between her legs, as if she was building up to an orgasm.

  “When you are performing the task properly, the Stimulaids excite your pleasure centers as a reward. Sex is the most powerful agent of behavior modification there is. Now, if you can make the right decisions all day, you can probably come two or three times,” Traynor explained. “It’s called ‘positive reinforcement’.”

  Perhaps the distraction of sexual arousal from the devices contributed to Emily’s first mistake. The GPS indicated that the front of the third green was 265 yards away. A creek ran across the fairway, which required a shot of 230 yards to carry it. Emily guessed that Traynor would want her to play “smart”, i.e. conservatively, and lay up short of the creek on the second shot. If she had been playing, she would have taken a 3-wood and tried to clear the hazard.

  She knelt on the ground next to him (since she could not hand anything to him, he had instructed her to offer a club in this humble position). “I would hit a four iron up short of that water, and you’ll have a full wedge left to the green,” she said.

  Traynor made no move to take a club. “Really, Thayer?” he asked, looking down at her. “Is that really what you would do?”

  As it was not in fact what she would have done but what she thought he wanted to hear, Emily hesitated. “Well, I thought…”

  Before she could complete the sentence, she was struck on her breasts and between her legs by what Emily could only think of as a lightning bolt. The pleasant, warm sensation that had been growing vanished in an instant, and it was replaced by a howling, burning anguish that made the initial pinch when he had attached the devices to her body seem like a gentle massage by comparison. Emily screamed and rolled on the ground like an animal in her distress. After perhaps thirty seconds in Hell, the pain stopped, disappearing as suddenly as it had arrived.

  Traynor glared down at Emily. “What you didn’t do was think. If you couldn’t clear that little brook with a 3-wood from here, you have no business trying to make the Tour. And don’t try to tell me that you wouldn’t have tried that shot when you had a chance to make the green in two. I warned you not to try to lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself, on the golf course, at least. Now get the fuck off the ground so I can get a club.” Emily hung her head in shame. He was right, of course.

  Without the use of her hands, Emily found it difficult to rise back to her knees with the heavy golf bag still on her back. Eventually, panting and smeared with dirt from her roll on the ground, s
he managed it.

  Traynor selected the 3-wood and struck the ball. It was a beautiful shot. The ball soared over the creek and rolled to a stop just short of the green on the front collar. “That is the right shot, and that is the one you should take,” he said. “You’re putting for an eagle now.”

  Although Traynor insisted that he only played 18 holes that day, by the end, to Emily, it felt closer to 50. He found at least a dozen more occasions to correct her. Each time, the shocks were not more endurable but less so than the time before. By the end of the day, Emily was crying and begging him not to punish her again.

  “Please, Mr. Traynor, I… I’m doing the best I can,” she blubbered, on her knees at his feet. “I can’t stand any more. I’ll do… do anything you want… I’ll make you feel good; I’ll give you a… blow… blowjob, you can… f… fuck me… if you want… b… but please don’t p… punish me… ag… ain.”