Authors: Kathryn R. Blake
She swallowed unevenly, then repeated, “Wash, drink, or evacuate, Master.”
“Very good. Your time begins now.” Jim watched as Kelly smoothly rose to her feet and gracefully walked toward the bathroom. He couldn’t see her unless he got up and stood before the door, but he could hear her. And he heard her give a long and tortured wail. He sighed. He’d planned to give her twenty, forty strokes maximum with a paddle, figuring that would have been hard enough for her to tolerate. Afterwards, he’d intended to send her off to bed where she could cry herself to sleep while he went out drinking.
Not gonna happen.
He was in for a long night, though she was in for an even longer one, and he didn’t look forward to one minute of it. That many strokes could hurt her badly if he was the sort to abuse women, or if she couldn’t get herself into the right mindset for enduring an extensive marathon of pain. He would monitor her breathing and coloring throughout. He had enough experience to recognize if she was in distress, and would adjust accordingly.
He lowered his face to his hands.
Crap.
This was one hell of a way to begin a relationship. After running his fingers through his hair, he checked the clock. She had ten minutes remaining, and she hadn’t let up on the crying one bit. She was one terrified female, and he had to admit she had good reason to be.
Placing the paddle on the couch beside him, he got up to pour himself a glass of water. He would not drink any alcohol prior to a punishment. Slaves had died because their masters weren’t sober enough to recognize they were in need of attention. As strict as he was, he would never jeopardize the life of someone he felt responsible for.
CHAPTER TEN
Jim took a sip of cool water and started to carry the glass back to the couch when he decided to pour her one, too. If she needed water right away for anything, he wanted to have it available. Realizing he had no choice but to go through with this distasteful deed, he sat down in the middle of his couch and called out, “You have five minutes remaining, slave. I suggest you stop all that wailin’ now, and turn your attention to the tasks you’re there to accomplish. I do not wish to add any strokes to your punishment, but I will if you keep me waitin’.”
That was the God’s truth, he thought. He’d nearly passed out himself when she told him she deserved 100 strokes of the paddle. Had he decided to use a whip, a crop, or even his belt, he doubted he could’ve prevented drawing blood, unless he kept his strokes light, which defeated the primary purpose of the punishment. Even with a padded paddle, he expected some bruising, if he didn’t hold back a bit. And as much as he didn’t relish hurting her, he balked at the idea of changing his style and method.
He preferred the strokes to be fewer in number, but painful. Kelly had given him a number he never thought he’d dispense. He took another sip of water, then called, “One minute remainin’, slave.”
At least her crying had abated some now. Since he wasn’t providing her with any sexual release tonight, she might not obtain subspace. It would be a blessing if she did, but he couldn’t expect or count on it. He suspected she would remain aware and in pain throughout the whole torturous ordeal.
Then placing his glass down on the table, he called, “Your time is up, slave. One minute more and I add a stroke.”
Jim couldn’t help but admire Kelly’s figure and form when she walked toward him. She was lovely and had a natural grace about her. Her spine was straight, her eyes were aware, but red. And though her cheeks had a slight stain of embarrassment to them, her breathing appeared normal. She’d even drawn back her hair into a French braid to keep it out of the way. He missed seeing the soft waves, but thought it was a wise decision for her to make. She looked good to go.
Smoothly kneeling by his side, she said, “I beg your forgiveness before we begin, Master, for any show of weakness I may display during your loving correction.”
God, she was good at this.
He placed his hand on her head. “I forgive you, slave. Now take your position and beg me to begin when you are ready.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured uneasily as she moved fluidly to lie across his lap. She was one pretty lady. Slender, graceful, but generously-padded everywhere he thought a woman should be. Here he was ripping into her hide and they hadn’t even made love yet.
He wanted her as comfortable as possible, so he instructed her to stretch out her long legs on the couch. If she had trouble controlling them and started kicking and bucking, he would restrain her. But for now, he’d prefer her muscles stay as relaxed as possible. Next he ordered her to move her arms and head in the position he wanted. Each time he commanded a change in her position, she thanked him, and he couldn’t help wondering if someone hadn’t been as considerate of her as they should have.
Once she was positioned correctly, he lifted up the paddle and said, “I’m waitin’ for you to beg me to begin your correction, slave.” She put her face, straight down on the couch, which would inhibit her breathing.
“No,” he corrected, turning her head with his left hand so she faced the same direction he did. He needed to be able to see her, and wanted nothing to hinder her breathing, so he refused to let her hide or cover her face in any way.
When she let out a tremulous sigh, he knew he’d have to spend a few minutes telling her exactly what he wanted and expected from her. “I feel I need to give you some instructions, before we begin, so you don’t inadvertently do something that’ll earn you more punishment.
“You are not permitted to cover or hide your face in any way, not even with your hands. I’ll remind you of this should you forget, but I will not punish you.
“Your hands should at no time impede mine from deliverin’ this punishment. If you forget, and put your hands where they do not belong, I will restrain you and you’ll be punished one extra stroke.
“I do not require your silence, though I would request you attempt not to scream your head off. My neighbors aren’t close, but they can hear loud screamin’. However, since this is not an entirely new activity for me, I believe everyone within hearin’ distance is aware of my predilection, and will do their best to ignore it.
“Now for safety. You have your safe word, repeat it for me now, please.”
“Pear,” she answered quietly.
“Good. I instruct you now to use it if the pain becomes intolerable for you. This is a punishment, not an execution or a torture session. I expect this to teach you a much-needed lesson that will be difficult for you to accept. But that doesn’t mean I wish to cause you irreparable damage or harm, so use the word if you need me to stop. After we have discussed the situation, I’ll determine whether to end or continue the punishment. However, I will not tolerate your misusin’ your word either. If I suspect you are not truly in jeopardy, I’ll add one stroke for every minute you delay my administration of your punishment. Do you fully understand the instructions I’ve given you?”
“Yes, Master, and I humbly thank you for your consideration.”
He nodded, wondering again what her previous masters had been like. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“Yes, Master,” she said softly.
“Proceed.”
“Would you be willing to forgive your humble slave before you begin her correction?”
Wanting nothing more than to pick Kelly up and hold her close to reassure her, Jim set the paddle down and laid a gentle hand on her head to stroke her hair. “You are forgiven, slave. In return, I hope you’ll remember this punishment, though intended to be harsh, is meant solely as a correction for your unacceptable behavior this afternoon.” He ran a hand along the curve of her spine, admiring the silky softness of her skin as he made sure every muscle was as relaxed as it could be under the circumstances. “Consider it your reminder to never forget your place.” He settled his hand at the small of her back. Noting the way she immediately tensed her buttocks, he stroked her into relaxing with his right hand then continued to massage his fingers into her flesh as a reminder for her to stay relaxed.
“This correction is bein’ dispensed without malice, vengeance, hatred or ill will toward you in any way. My hope is you will learn your lesson from this experience in such a way you never make these same mistakes again.” Returning his left hand to the small of her back, he picked up the paddle again in his right. You may now beg me to proceed with your correction when you are ready.”
When she gave a small sob, he stroked her hair again to calm her and she responded by taking in a stuttering breath. He didn’t press her for the words, since she needed to find the strength within herself to endure this. Internal fortitude was not something he could provide for her. After a moment, less than thirty seconds later, she said a little tearfully, “I humbly beg you, my Master, to show me the error of my ways with your fair and impartial correction. I am most thankful you have shown me the care of your experience, and I gratefully wait for you to begin my punishment.”
With a nod, Jim raised his hand and brought the paddle down hard and called ‘One.’ No way did he expect her to try to keep count through this. Kelly immediately tried to block her cry with her hands.
“Hands,” he reminded calling ‘Two’ as the blow struck. She gave a soft grunt of pain, but managed to keep her hands in place this time. “Good girl,” he praised. “That’s the level of discomfort you should expect throughout this exercise. I’m now gonna try to establish a rhythm where each stroke is even and measured against the last, and I want you to let everythin’ go. Don’t try to fight the pain or attempt to escape it, just go wherever it takes you. You do not have to count, I’ll do that for you.
“Now, take a deep breath and relax,” he ordered, and was pleased when she obeyed, then he worked out a tempo: smack, number, smack, number, smack, number. He did this to help her to anticipate and accept without resisting. The pain was coming anyway, she could do nothing to stop it, and so she needed to give herself over to it.
She gave a small jerk and made soft grunts of protest with the first few strokes then fell into the rhythm with him for about the next twenty-five strokes. At twenty-six she let out a gasp. Realizing she was trying to hold her breath, he added breathing instructions with his strokes. “Breathe in, smack, breathe out, number. Breathe in, smack, breathe out, number.” This got her through the next fifteen or so.
Jim wasn’t sure what changed at stroke fifty-one, but every muscle in Kelly’s body tensed. So, he stopped and gave her breathing instructions for a moment. “Relax, breathe in, breathe out, relax. You’re doin’ really good, and we are more than halfway through. He ran his hand through her hair. Though she was handling it well, she was also heavily perspiring, which meant she’d been working on muscle control throughout. That took a lot of energy and concentration.
“Do you need water?” he asked, taking her pulse.
“No, Sir,” she answered and her voice sounded constrained. He ran a hand along her back checking for any muscles she might be tensing. Her shoulders felt unusually taut, a sign she was struggling to master the pain by holding herself under tight restraint. He chided himself for not recognizing it sooner. Her stomach hadn’t felt tense to him, so he discounted her back given the position of her arms.
He rubbed the tightly held muscles and heard her give a small sob. No doubt they had cramped up on her and his massage was painful. She hadn’t been making much sound at all. Her backside glowed a bright red now, but no sign of purple, though he suspected it would be black and blue and swollen before they’d finished.
When she let out another sob, he shushed her. “Shhh. Relax and breathe through it, Kelly. Try not to tighten up. I’m very proud of the way you’re handlin’ this. I know it’s not easy to lie there and accept the pain, but you’re doin’ a beautiful job of it.”
She gave a tiny sigh at his few words of praise and relaxed. He ran his fingers over her entire body with a smooth motion, making sure even her leg muscles, ankles and feet remained as loose as possible. She knew how to control her breathing enough to breathe through the pain, and he was impressed by her level of stoicism. She was clearly not a novice at handling deep pain. He didn’t think Kyle had ever punished her this strenuously, but obviously someone had. These techniques were only learned through experience.
Another thing that impressed as well as humbled Jim was the trust she had given him with her submission. The way she lay so still and accepting of what he did without any protest, showed she trusted him not to take her beyond the point of what would be a tolerable agony for her. Yes he was hurting her, but he wasn’t being cruel or brutal about it, merely methodical.
After a minute of thoroughly checking her, she took another breath, then said, “Thank you, Master, for being so patient with me.”
Though she didn’t say it directly, her words meant she was ready to continue. Whether they began again or not was his decision, but he wouldn’t belittle her courage, despite his own misgivings. He checked her one more time and couldn’t find a reason to call a halt to the punishment other than the redness of her buttocks, which was expected. So, lifting the paddle, he said, “We begin again at fifty-two. Breathe in,” he ordered bringing down the implement. “Breath out, fifty-two.”
She let out a few grunts and whimpers for the first couple of strokes until she grew accustomed to the pain again. She had been a real screamer yesterday, but today she accepted a far more severe punishment in a calm, reserved manner. He knew she was hurting, by the way the flesh on her buttocks began to get darker with each stroke, yet she made no effort to resist.
As he counted and instructed her to breathe, he occasionally ran his left hand over her back and shoulders, but could tell this distracted her, so he tried to monitor her visually. Though her eyes were closed, her forehead stayed slightly wrinkled so she still felt the pain, she just wasn’t fighting it. Then at sixty she went completely limp and he suspected she’d gone into subspace. She had to trust him with her life to do that. After checking to make sure she hadn’t simply passed out, he took care not to alter his words, or the pattern of his strokes, hoping she would fly for a bit.