Tales of Pleasure and Pain (2 page)

Roslyn blushed. In her imagination she could feel what it might be like to have the audience she craved. She put a favorite seductive piece of music on the CD player, and returning to her place in front of Jack, she began to dance. Swaying her hips in front of him, she moved like an exotic dancer, jiggling her breasts in his face, and pushing her stretch pants down over her hips. She turned around in time to the music and bent over, thrusting out her bottom, churning it as his watchful eyes observed the unveiling of her naked bottom.

"You are really a slut Roslyn," he murmured. She could tell, even though she wasn't facing him, that his dick was rock hard, that it was standing at attention in his lap, with his hand jerking it madly. She churned her ass even more and felt his free hand slap her fanny hard, right over the place he'd just heartily paddled.

"You monster," she moaned, though she wasn't in any pain.

He continued slapping her even when she tried to rise. "Stay put," he ordered her. And she was forced to jiggle her behind seductively to the beat of his hand coming down on her butt in one stinging smack after another.

"Oh yes more," she purred. She wasn't complaining. The sharp stinging smack of his hand was not painful at all, just hot beating pleasure.

"Quite a time Roz, quite a time I'll have punishing this naughty little butt for gawking voyeurs." The slaps continued. "I like this fantasy," he murmured. The idea had him hot, so hot his stiff dick was about to cum.

Roslyn in her own erotic
world
could feel those other eyes staring at her, humiliating her, watching her bottom turn scarlet. Her cunt was throbbing, her juices sticking to the sides of her legs. She wished she could turn her head and see some strange stern face looking on, appreciating every cruel slap.

"Rub yourself," Jack ordered.

She couldn't
wait;
her hand was between her legs, playing with the juicy folds. She rose enough to steady herself, and at last turned around. By then Jack was more interested in getting off than spanking. She dropped between his legs and helped him out, taking his sweet tasting cum into her mouth and letting it dribble just a bit down her chin, just the way he loved it to.

"Lay over the footstool," he instructed her when he'd recouped enough to think of Roslyn's mounting orgasm.

She complied. On her hands and knees over the foot stool, she swayed her fanny seductively in the breeze as her hand deftly fingered her throbbing cunt, and Jack resumed his playful burning slaps.

She built to one peak and he stopped her. His hand was joyfully having
its
way, seeing to it that her bottom was as crimson as it had been earlier that day.

"Oh not so much," she moaned.

He didn't listen.

"Play with yourself," he ordered again. And her hand, wet with
her succulent juices, resumed
the masturbation, moving her headlong towards her peak.

She smashed into the orgasm. All at once it was there, and she jerked and writhed, and snapped back her head, forgetting where she was, poised precariously on the ottoman.

Jack came to her aid, guiding her back to her place; though she collapsed moments later, to lie across the plush fabric of the footstool. She was breathing heavily, and quivering softly as the last of the sensations had come and gone.

Jack rubbed her rear tenderly.

"It turned you on, didn't it?" he asked.

"What, what are you talking about?" she was hardly conscious.

"The fantasy, the audience. You were imagining one, weren't you?"

She didn't want to admit it, but he already knew. "Weren't you thinking about it too, you certainly got off quickly?" she asked.

"Damn right," he confirmed. "I'll just have to see what I can do about this one."

She knew he meant it, as charged as they were . . . there was no doubt this was one for real life, not just pretend.

It was at least two months later when Jack threw a magazine in front of Roslyn with an advertisement circled. It was a spanking magazine, a Personal Ad marked with his red pen.

"Answer it," he said, in a no nonsense tone of voice.

"You mean that?" she asked, looking up to see his determined expression.

"I wouldn't have said so if I didn't mean it," he replied.

"Dominant male, interested in joining couples in their spanking games. For variety and spice - the added exhilaration that comes from exposing your dominant submissive relationship to an appreciative audience. Write to Bryce, P.O. Box . . . ."

She read the advertisement several times. Jack and Roslyn had read the spanking personals together on a number of occasions but they hadn't acted on any of them before. This one made her surge with that fine rush she always got when her sexual fires had been ignited.

"What would I tell him?" she asked.

"The truth," Jack replied. "That you're submissive to your husband, that you enjoy a good thorough spanking for both punishment and eroticism, and that we've both been wanting someone to share our way of life with us."

"And why this ad?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not sure, something in my gut I suppose. It's worded rather uniquely don't you think?"

There were dozens of ads, but he was right; there was none that spelled out their exact desire quite so precisely.

"You're finding this difficult, aren't you?" Jack observed her reluctance.

"Yes," she replied honestly.

"Good, that means I've hit the mark. So don't stall. Get it ready today and I'll put it in the mail in the morning."

Perhaps it was some precognitive flash of what was to come, but whatever, Roslyn was trembling as she wrote the letter. It was almost like addressing another lover, though this one would have access to her most hidden secret from the very beginning. What had taken years to reveal and resolve with Jack would be right out in the open from the start with this man. It was a compelling thought.

The letter sent, Jack was determined to keep any replies and arrangements with Bryce secret from Roslyn. At least to begin with. He wasn't used to keeping secrets from her, but in this case he decided that discretion was necessary. He needed to make sure that Bryce was truly what they needed, and he didn't want to make Roslyn anxious for no reason. No doubt she'd be filled with all kinds of imaginings anyway. Let her stew for awhile and wonder if he was really going to set up a meeting.

The first letter from Bryce was a simple, nonspecific reply, digging a little more deeply for Jack and Roslyn's motives and desires.

Jack replied, " . . . I'd like an opportunity to get together in some setting where I can discipline my wife in front of you. But she's wary of anything contrived so we would both need to guard against that."

Bryce responded, " . . . Perhaps being direct and honest is the best policy. We meet, get to know each other, discuss our mutual desires frankly; and when the appropriate opportunity arises, and Roslyn has earned her punishment, I'll be there to witness it. The act will be as natural as if you were punishing her by herself."

His suggestion made sense to Jack. He had the distinct feeling that he was going to like this
man;
he might be someone quite like himself. Strange in all their years, playing with these unusual fantasies he'd never taken the opportunity to know another dominant. The prospect was fascinating in itself.

Three weeks later Jack and Roslyn were sitting down to dinner at one of their favorite nightspots. Roz was dressed the way he loved her most, in a soft knit dress that clung to her curves. It was cut low in the front to show her cleavage and short below to show off her fine shapely legs.

His hand was on her thigh, making a pleasant journey up her skirt when a man approached their table.

Jack looked up and smiled at him, reaching out to shake his hand, they acted like old
friends.

"Roslyn, this is Bryce," Jack announced.

"What! Bryce? Of the ad?" Roslyn asked. She gaped at both men, stupefied. Bryce sat down across from them. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little shocked," she explained, as the man settled in, his eyes quickly drawn to the gaping front of her dress and the soft line of her breasts.

He looked up at Roslyn and smiled warmly. "We hadn't meant to shock you," Bryce told her, "but from what Jack's told me, you thrive on spontaneity. He thought it would be better if we just sprung this on you as a surprise."

"I knew you'd get all worried about it, if I told you ahead of time," Jack offered.

She was speechless. Some reply trying to come out got stuck in her throat. She gulped, realizing that the sudden turn of events had put this romantic dinner with Jack in a whole new light.

"Besides, you can't tell me it doesn't turn you on," Jack whispered, "I can already feel it."

Bryce heard his hushed remarks and smiled suggestively.

Roslyn blushed.

She always gave herself
away;
Jack knew when she was aroused, as if he were psychic, capable of discerning her deepest thoughts without her saying a word. He knew that her whole body was aflame just looking at Bryce - this stranger who knew her secret desires, and wanted to play in her submissive playground.

Bryce, much like Jack, had dark hair and dark eyes; though of average height and build, he was not as big and burly as her husband. He was good looking she supposed, though that didn't matter. Only time and conversation would tell if her arousal would continue, if Bryce had the kind of qualities that would make Roslyn tremble the way Jack did. So far he was doing a good job.

"So you two have talked?" she asked. She had no clue about their correspondence. It had been nearly three weeks since she initially wrote him.

"We've exchanged several letters and had quite a phone conversation," Bryce informed her.

"You have?" She was amazed. "So does this mean, you're going to spank me tonight in front of him?" She looked at Jack. Jack took his time before he answered her. He could see how nervous she was. "I don't think so," he finally replied, much to her surprise. "Bryce and I thought we'd just get to know each other as friends. Sometime you may be
punished in front of him, but tonight we're just going to talk about our favorite pastime. No pressure, no expectations."

"No spanking?"

"Only when it's right," Bryce affirmed. "Believe me Roslyn I've done this enough times to know what you'll like. The three of us will have some interesting sessions; and before that, the waiting and wondering will be provocative.

"I imagine you're right," Roslyn found herself stammering nervously. She was served a bowl of her favorite soup, and with the meal commencing the three of them talked about everything but their erotic and disciplinary desires. Bryce was a congenial and pleasant guy, just the kind of man Roz like to flirt with. He seemed to like her teasing, the playful banter and the suggestive glances.

She'd almost forgotten the reason he was there, when suddenly Bryce turned to her, his dark eyes peering into Roslyn's submissive ones. "What's your favorite implement?" he asked.

The question took her off guard.

"I'm not sure that's a fair question of a submissive since they can all hurt like hell."

He smiled appreciatively. "Oh there's a favorite hiding back inside your mind." His comment was stern enough to warrant her reply, all kidding aside. His eyes could threaten almost as much as Jack's. They bore right into her waiting for a response.

"I guess I'd have to say the riding crop," she answered. "It was my
first;
we have one with a triangular leather end. You could say it was my first love."

He nodded at her as if he were imagining her "first love" coming down on her naked bottom. A delicious smirk appeared on his face. "And yours," he asked turning to Jack.

"A butter paddle," Jack replied without hesitation, "how about you?"

"I have a spanker, a leather paddle. Perhaps it has the elements of both your favorites, being leather, but still suitable for a traditional over the knee correction." He turned again to Roslyn, "bare assed or covered?" he inquired.

"Naked of course," she replied. Her body was reacting to his sudden authoritative manner. She had to watch herself the way she was beginning to squirm in her seat, pressing her throbbing pussy into the chair.

"So what does Jack punish you for?" he continued.

"Anything that strikes his fancy," she answered honestly. She would have suggested that
he was very arbitrary, and that pissed her off, but it wasn't a particularly submissive thing to say.

"That's good, I don't particularly like needing to have a good excuse; of course when there really is a good reason, I give the session that much more enthusiasm, if you know what I mean?"

Roslyn knew exactly what he meant, Jack was always the most ruthless when he'd caught her breaking one of his capricious rules.

"So you like to watch?" Jack asked.

"Absolutely. I love watching sassy buns begin to redden from a hearty paddling. She's got a very naughty ass, I can tell."