Authors: Kathryn R. Blake
Noting her backside was already pink from the swats he’d given her earlier, he didn’t spare her this time either as he raised and brought his hand down hard three times, as promised. She managed to cover her cries by muffling her face in the small pillow he’d left for her, but he knew the restraint had not been easy for her. The girl really wanted to howl right now and her kicking legs showed it in spades. But it was over practically before it started. And even though she was crying afterwards, she made no other sound of complaint.
Lifting her up again, he set her down on the seat beside him. It was a little warm from the mid-June weather, though not quite burning hot, yet. Even so, he knew her whimper was a combination of the heat from the sun as well as his hand. Once he got out of the car, he turned back to her. “Stomach down on the seat, slave,” he commanded.
Despite her tears and discomfort, she did not hesitate to obey him, laying her head on the small pillow he’d left for her and gingerly swinging her legs out behind her. His backseat was nearly long enough for her to stretch out. Reaching for the blanket, he covered her, not wanting curious truck drivers to see more than they should.
“Thank you, Master,” she said softly between hitched sobs.
Doing his best to keep his expression and voice stern as he looked down at her, he said, “I suggest you get some sleep now, slave, if you can. Since I doubt you’ll be gettin’ much later.”
“Yes, Master.”
Then giving her head a light tap, he said, “Watch it, I’m shuttin’ the door now.” She shifted slightly so the door’s armrest wouldn’t hit her, and he let it go with a fairly loud slam, watching her flinch at the sound.
He refused to let himself show any concern as he walked around and got into the front seat, then started the journey to his home. As he drove, his vexation with her grew. She had done everything she could to defy him this afternoon, even going so far as to attack him in front of his fellow officers. True he’d paddled her for it, but that only flared the burning fires of his fury, since she’d made him punish her publicly at the station as well. By the time they’d reached his house, he was blazingly furious with her again, ready to yank her up and out of the car, when he realized she had fallen asleep. Getting his anger under control, he gave her shoulder a shake. “Wake up now, slave. We’re here.”
She stirred slowly and groggily, so he eased her up and out of the car, then with one hand firmly gripping her arm, he escorted her into his home. His neighbors were far enough away that they couldn’t see each other’s houses through the trees, so he didn’t worry about others watching him drag a half-naked, handcuffed woman through his front door. Setting down her clothes as well as her small carrying case and purse on his kitchen counter, he motioned for her to turn around so he could unlock her cuffs. That was the first time he’d noticed how red and raw her wrists looked. Angered by the wave of guilt he felt for causing her injury, he ordered her to sit on one of the chairs at his kitchen table while he fetched the first aid cream.
She was sitting and looking around when he came back, placed a towel on her lap and crouched before her. “Wrists out, please,” he commanded, somewhat amused when she extended them out to him the way a sub presented her wrists for cuffing.
“Looks like you won’t be wearin’ my sub cuffs for a while, slave. You’ve done some significant damage here. I ought to punish you for that, too, since you’ve clearly disfigured my property.” She glanced down at what he was doing, but didn’t say a word. Once he finished coating both her wrists with the cream, he wrapped them in gauze so it looked like she wore white wrist cuffs, then he stood up. “That cream needs to soak in for a while, so I’ll check ‘em again tomorrow. In the meantime, I want you to go into my bedroom, I’ll show you where it is in a moment, and finish strippin’. When all your clothes are off, I want you to stand in the corner I tell you to and wait until I give you permission to move. You don’t need any more instructions than that right now. Do you have any questions?”
“No, Master,” she answered, still submissive to his firm tone and anger.
“Good. Up you get, then,” he said removing the towel from her lap and helping her to her feet. He watched her for a second to make sure she was steady, then said, “Now follow me.”
He led her to his bedroom, pointed out the bathroom, told her she was free to use it, if she needed to, after she stripped. Then, after pointing out the corner he expected her to stand in once she was naked, he crossed his arms, leaned against his dresser, and waited. When she didn’t move, he motioned for her to proceed.
She removed her blouse, jacket and bra. At that point he started to remove his belt and her blue eyes widened with dread.
He arched an eyebrow. “Think you deserve a taste of my belt before you stand in that corner, slave? It might help remind you why you’re here and serve as a warm-up for your true punishment.”
Her eyebrows wrinkled as she replied in a whisper, “If my Master wishes.”
“Turn around,” he snapped, yanking his belt off. Though she obeyed him, her body trembled with anxiety. He wanted her worried and edgy right then, and he could tell he had succeeded admirably. Pausing for a moment, he snapped the belt and watched her flinch before he reached into his closet and hung it up. The buckle was sharp and he was afraid of accidentally cutting her when she lay across his lap later. He knew it wouldn’t be a problem for the three swats he gave her in the car, but for the lengthy session she faced later, he suspected it would be far more difficult for her to keep still. And intense squirming could cause her even more injury, if he kept his belt on.
Seeing the way her shoulders and body shook, he knew Kelly’s fear was getting the best of her. Berating himself for not simply walking out, he went to stand behind her, so that his shirt buttons pressed against her spine. He expected her to either shrink away or lean against him, but he didn’t expect her to slump down as though her knees had given out. He caught her by her elbows, and held her close until she’d regained control. She let out a sob, but pressed her back against his chest, obviously relieved he wasn’t planning to take his belt to her. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her even closer, so she could feel the effect she had on him. Then he stood there, holding her for a moment, until he was sure she was ready to stand on her own. After retrieving a box of tissues and a chair, he walked her into her corner.
“Your instructions are to stand, slave, but I don’t want you collapsin’ on me. If you feel faint, you have permission to sit. However, I want you to remain in this corner until I call you. Have you any questions?’
“Yes, Master. May I be allowed to use the bathroom first?”
“You may.”
“And may I be permitted to shut the door, Master?”
“No, you may not. Once you are done, I expect you to return to and remain here, until I send for you. If you feel ill, or dizzy, or require help, you may call me. Otherwise, I expect you to remain silent and obedient to my wishes.”
“Thank you, Master.”
With a nod, he turned and walked out of the room.
Jim heard her crying, but chose not to scold. Instead, he made her wait for an hour while he fumed on the couch. Once he was sure his anger was under control, he said, “All right, slave, your time’s up. My bag is sittin’ on the chest at the foot of my bed. Reach in and get the paddle, then bring it in here and stand before me in the livin’ room.”
The moment he saw her, he could tell how scared she was. Really scared. But she walked toward him with her back straight and her head high then stood and extended the paddle out to him correctly, so the handle faced him, but she couldn’t do it without trembling. He merely leaned back against the couch, crossed his arms and said, “No. Do it properly. Kneel, kiss it, then offer it to me from your knees, slave.”
Tears continued to roll down Kelly’s cheeks, but she did exactly as he commanded. When she offered it again, he said, “Beg me to take it from you and use it to give you the correction you so richly deserve for your actions today.” The look he gave her warned if she did not do as he asked in a manner which would please him, her punishment would increase.
Head bowed, she held the paddle out to him. “Please, Master. Take this paddle and use it to teach me the lesson I need to learn today. I beg you.”
He took it from her hand. “Nicely said, slave. I hope your request was genuine, because I intend to use all my strength when I employ this implement on you.”
“Yes, Master,” she answered, head bent.
He let out his breath torn between his desire to shake her until her teeth rattled, and to pull her close for a hug. Opting to do neither, he said, “Normally, I don’t do this with my slaves, since it is not your decision to make, but I am curious as to your answer. How many strokes of this paddle do you believe you deserve for what you did today?”
Kelly winced at that question, then said very, very softly. “As many as my Master desires to give me.”
“That is a given, slave, but it is not what I asked, is it?”
She shook her head, “No, Master.”
“Then answer my question.”
Her eyes beseeched his for forgiveness. “One hundred, Master.”
Jim’s stomach lurched. It had been a mistake to ask her, and he wasn’t sure why he had, but now he was stuck with her response even though that number was completely unacceptable to him. He clamped his jaws together in an effort to keep from yelling and asking her if she’d fallen off her ever-lovin’ rocker, but instead he spoke slowly and deliberately. “That is a most severe punishment, slave, and one that’ll remain with you for many days, if not weeks.”
She nodded while keeping her head lowered in submission. “Yes. I know, Master. But I will strive to endure, if it pleases you.”
Jim sighed. He wanted to punish her for embarrassing him today, not kill her. “And you truly believe you deserve so many strokes? Before you answer me, slave, I’d like you to recall the discomfort you experienced from your previous sessions over my lap and understand I’d used only the palm of my hand. Usin’ the paddle will be much easier on me, but not you. My last stroke will be as firm and unrelentin’ as the first, for that is how I dispense punishments with a paddle.”
Kelly winced as tears continued to spill from her eyes, but remained silent and penitent before him, so he warned her again, “Consider carefully before you answer whether or not you would like to reconsider your number.”
“You were terribly angry with me, Master James.”
He couldn’t help noticing how badly she trembled now. “Yes, I was, and still am. That hasn’t changed.”
“I believe your anger with me is great enough to deserve and accept an equally serious punishment from your hand. I know you will temper your strokes as you offer me correction, not injury, but I accept that I may suffer injury all the same.”
“I do not temper my strokes, slave. I believe all punishment should be delivered as hard as I can dispense it, to serve as the proper correction. Do you accept this?”
She raised her head to meet his gaze and nodded. Tears openly ran down her cheeks, but she made no sound. He promptly shook his head. “Nodding is not an acceptable response, slave, and you know that. Your Master always deserves the courtesy of a verbal reply with the correct title attached.”
“Forgive me, Master. I was too overcome to speak for a moment. Though I am ready to accept punishment at your hand, I will honestly admit I am scared.” Her eyes scrunched and her lower lip trembled as her voice went up in pitch with those last three words. She was trying to hold herself together, but her emotions had her so stressed out all she had left was spit and tissue paper, which made for lousy glue.
Struggling against his desire to hold and comfort her, he nodded. “Apology accepted. I ask you again, though this will be the last time. Do you wish to revise the number of strokes you believe you deserve today?” He held his breath as her inner turmoil played across her expression. Even though pulling her on his lap and holding her while she cried was not an option, Jim had a strong urge to do exactly that. So he tamped down his more tender feelings and cleared his throat. When she continued to hesitate, he added, “I’ll not take offense if you wish to reconsider your punishment and revise your request by twenty-five percent.”
“Seventy-five strokes, Master?” she asked with uncertain softness, so he gave her an approving nod.
When she remained unconvinced, Jim added gruffly, “Seventy-five is an acceptable number for your transgressions.”
“Then I will humbly accept my Master’s advice and lower my request to seventy-five strokes, Sir.”
“Seventy-five it is then.”
Shit.
“Do you wish to make any preparation before we begin? Are you feelin’ a need to empty your bladder or bowels, or perhaps take a glass of water?”
Kelly swallowed. “Thank you, Master, for showing such kind consideration for your slave. If I may be excused I would like to go to the bathroom before we proceed.”
He gave another nod. “Will fifteen minutes suffice, or do you require more time?”
“May I be given twenty minutes, Master?”
“You may.”
“May I also be allowed to shut the door, Master?” she asked in a barely audible whisper. He knew she wanted privacy to cry, but Jim gave another firm shake of his head. “No. That is still not permitted.”
Kelly gave him a pleading look and he shook his head again. His reasons were his own, he did not owe her an explanation, so he did not provide one. She would assume he wished to humiliate her further with his denial, but his reason for insisting Kelly leave the door open tonight had nothing to do with humiliation or embarrassment. He needed to be able to hear her in case something happened.
She accepted his pronouncement with a nod. He could be strict when he chose to, and he fully intended to be stricter with her than he had ever been with any other sub or slave he’d interacted with. Much stricter than he was comfortable being.
“May I be excused now, Master?”
“You may. I give you twenty minutes to use as you see fit. But know this first, slave. You may not put anythin’ on your body that’ll lessen the impact of your punishment, or bring yourself relief of any sort. You may wash, drink, and evacuate your bladder and/or bowels. That is all I am givin’ you permission to do. I’ll keep time. If you exceed the limits we’ve established, I’ll add one stroke for every minute you delay me from deliverin’ your punishment. Now, repeat to me the only three things I am givin’ you permission to do.”