The second cut was as vicious as the others and I yowled loudly. The only good thing was that there were just two left. My body was bursting with desire. Even as terrible as this was, I could not escape a feeling of satisfaction sweeping through me. I cried loudly with the third cut, and then again with the fourth. The end proved to be cathartic and my tears flowed again.
“Stand up,” he ordered, not allowing me to collapse against the table, even for a second.
I struggled to my feet and turned around to meet him face to face. I tugging at my dress, wanting to cover my aching behind. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but they were ignored as I looked at Reggie’s stern expression. I wondered if he was really displeased with me or if this was just part of the game he played so well.
He reached around laying his hand on my bottom while his eyes bore into me.
“Don’t let yourself forget this too quickly.”
I nodded.
I wish I knew what he was thinking, but he said no more.
“Mr. Winningham,” Reggie changed his tone for the spry shopkeeper, who was still standing off to one side as he viewed the scene.
“Yes, Mr. Harold,” he answered.
“These will do.” Picking up all three punishment implements, he handed them to the man. “Wrap them up and have them sent to the address on my card. And thank-you Damon for your assistance.” He flashed the man a genuine smile, and taking me by the hand, he led me from the shop. Just that quickly it was over, and all the fine pleasurable feelings I often feel at the end of punishment were working their miracles on my brain and body, making me think that it wasn’t all that bad.
My poor bottom was hardly happy sitting naked on the seat of Reggie’s Porsche. The dress naturally rode up when I sat down, and I didn’t try to pull it back in place. At first, the leather was cool, then it became annoying, sticking to the raw red surface of my skin, adding more insult, especially when I tried to squirm.
“Your discomfort is showing,” Reggie remarked.
“What do you expect?” I replied. My retort was more caustic than it should have been.
“You’re actually lucky that I didn’t go on longer. Perhaps I should have. It might have knocked the sass out of your voice.”
I didn’t reply. Anything I said would be the wrong thing. The rest of the way back to my apartment we rode in silence. The depth of my punishment was so remarkable, it would take some time for me to appreciate what I was enduring to save my relationship with Will. All this, and no certainty that Will would even care. Maybe it wasn’t just for him that I was surrendering.
When the Porsche pulled up in front of my building, the car stopped with a jerk.
“I’ll be disciplining you within the next few days, perhaps tonight, don’t plan anything that might interfere.”
He left me under the blanket of icy coldness I was accustomed to from Reggie, though I really needed something more than this brusque chill. Unfortunately, if it was comfort that I wanted, I’d have to get it from myself. Certainly Reggie wasn’t going to provide me with a shoulder to lean on or a handkerchief for my tears.
Chapter Five
I’ve spent many hours submissively waiting for Reggie. He always calls the shots, everything done on his capricious timetable. The anxiety fuels my desire and raises my emotions to a peak, so I can’t take my mind off the great impending ‘whatever.’ I can never imagine things the way they turn out. There are always surprises to wonder over, and fears to try and lay to rest.
He told me not to plan my time in anticipation of his next appearance. With that thought in my mind, my weekend was ruined. There was little I could do but obsess on the possibilities. I’m sure Reggie knew this and was chuckling to himself.
On Sunday afternoon, I settled into my comfy chair, watched some mindless TV, then picked up a volume of spanking stories I ordered on-line. I thought the choice appropriate for the moment.
I thumbed through pages without really settling on anything to read; the stories didn’t quite match the intensity of my experience. Reggie wasn’t an authoritarian husband, not even a commanding lover; though he did feel quite free to take liberties with my body. His intimate knowledge of my sexual needs defied any normal man/woman relationship.
Picking up the collection of spanking novellas, I paged through that, looking for scenes that would speak to me, maybe explain what was going on and why. Had any woman had the same experience that I had? Was there some ‘sister’ in this bizarre universe of fetish lovers that knew how I felt right then?
I was about to give up my search, when I began one curious story, starting to read in the middle, not the beginning. It was called
Awkward Friends
. The title seemed perfectly apropos, certainly my friendship with Reggie was awkward. The thought made me smile, maybe I’d found a companion within this novella:
“I’m surprised you showed up,” he said.
“I can’t help myself,” the auburn-haired woman replied. She couldn’t hold her head too high and act too proud, not considering what she was asking. “You will do this for me?” she said with some insistence.
She had waited a long time to be spanked, and she refused to wait any longer. This man would grant her wish, if she could in the least determine her fate.
Fate was shining down on her. Destiny catching up with her need.
“You realize that I’m stern with a paddle, most eager with a strap, and ruthless with the cane. My submissives have no choice but to comply.”
“I expect nothing less,” she answered, tossing the long auburn hair back over her shoulder. One lock lingered against her black sweater. Her bright lips defined a wide mouth that could grin broadly, though this was not a time for smiles. “I need this,” she added. He sat there looking into her eyes, while he was making his decision.
He pushed away from his desk and stood up. Opening a cabinet against the wall, he pulled out a heavy wooden paddle and laid it on the desk.
“I favor the woodshed,” he said formally. His voice was clipped, the attitude reminding her of many years of punishment at the hand of a stern father.
My cunt warmed just reading these words. That stern father routine was like nothing I’d experienced, but it was everything I’d fantasized about. Was this how I felt about Reggie?
She nodded at his announcement.
He took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. She watched him unbutton the cuffs of his starched white shirt and roll up the sleeves almost to his elbows, with a precision reminiscent of the man that had punished her as a child. She needed this re-enactment, she felt her pounding heart all through her body, especially between her legs, where this curious fascination always played out.
Picking up the paddle with a steady grip, he motioned the submissive woman to the office door and followed her out. She waited for him in the foyer, not knowing where they would be going, which one of the many doors they would be using to exit the man’s massive home. When he took the lead, she followed him through a narrow hallway and out a swinging back door into the faded evening light. There was a single light burning over the door of an old brown shack at the back of the property. The rickety entrance lent an old-fashioned air to the proceedings, as if the two were turning back the clock to a time when this practice was not so unusual.
The woman looked the part of some 1940’s youth. Her calf length wool skirt and matching cardigan reminded him of times when he’d taken undisciplined school girls to the shed to encourage more proper behavior. He could only imagine this woman’s crimes, thinking that they had to do with the lewd way he’d seen her sway her round rear end. The conservative clothes were likely just a costume hiding a flagrant brat that smoked and drank and let young men take liberties with her shapely body.
Her choice of conservative attire was amusing in itself, for her generous bosom was all the more defined in the smooth sweater; and the skirt’s tight fitting style clung to the curves of her hips and gently moving bottom.
“Remove the skirt,” he told her.
“Remove it?” she asked, nervously.
He didn’t honor her question with a response, expecting her to follow instructions, not question them.
She saw this in his eyes, and unbuttoning the skirt, she lowered it to her feet and then placed it atop the dusty workbench. A satin slip remained making her jiggling bottom all the more observable to his gaze.
My mind followed the tale easily as if I’d lived though this very act a thousand times. I expected the slip to be dispensed with, but I was wrong.
“You’ll bend over and grasp the post,” the man informed her, referring to the rough hewn beam in the center of the shed. To hold on to the post required bending over a table that made her rear jut out prominently. She followed his instructions with a pounding heart and her doing crazy flip flops. She leaned in, grabbed the post, and made her buttocks readily available for punishment.
She felt his hand reach down to pull up her slip, which he tucked into her sweater out of his way. Then he proceeded to lower the yellow panties, the last impediment to a fully exposed rear end.
Once his eyes had savored the sight of her luscious globes of jiggling flesh, he picked up the paddle, and pushing up the shirt sleeve of his punishment arm, again, he brought his arm back, then leveled the paddle at the center of those quivering cheeks.
She let out a loud gasp, as the paddle connected with its target.
Waiting was worth the sensation that resulted. The place of impact burned instantly with a fire that rose like an angry storm. The resulting satisfaction was instantaneous. With the next stroke there was the same response. Each successive smack of the unforgiving wood was laid on in equal measured time, as if a metronome was ticking in the back of his mind. In time, the sensations of pleasure gave way to pain, a horrible pain. The auburn haired woman and her disciplinarian experienced the punishment of by gone days, as if they’d just escaped to that forgotten time. That too was significant, this was a complex passion.
I stopped reading, needing no more help picturing the moment in my mind, my imagination could take over from this point. I didn’t need the words to capture the feelings in my aroused body and take them to a climax; but there was some satisfaction in reading this woman’s story that so clearly paralleled my own.
My sexual needs burst, one great raging raw place between my legs demanding relief. I leaned back and fingered myself, jumping in my mind from the auburn haired woman to a creation of my own imagination, to Reggie with his perfectly groomed countenance gazing in judgment at me with those icy blue eyes and a trace of a smirk in the expression on his lips.
I took a detour in the flight of submissive fantasy to imagine his next punishment turning into a moment of breathtaking climax. I felt his hand with some unplanned affection bringing me to orgasm in measured strokes, as controlled as the painful punishment that brought me to the edge.
With thoughts and desires raging madly through me, I came quickly, but lingered long, until I drifted away mindlessly, letting my body please my mind and soul.
Chapter Six
To find Reggie at my door for the second time in as many days was astounding to me. I suspected he might schedule our next rendezvous before the weekend was over; though I was not altogether pleased that I’d be punished again so soon. The ass cheeks he’d prevailed upon so well the morning before were still tender. In a couple of places there were faint marks from the cane; though it had been a surprise to me that a day later there was so little evidence of the punishment.
Funny, my first thought on seeing him at my door again . . .”
Does he ever show dirt?
The crazy question dashed through my fevered brain as his handsome appearance shocked me one more time.
“Good,” I’m glad you’re expecting me,” he announced when he saw me on the other side of the door. No other introduction seemed necessary.
“Was I expecting you?” I said.
“You didn’t go anywhere, did you?”
“Do I usually Sunday night?” I snapped sarcastically.
“You want to snap at me, I’ll make this personal,” he warned. There was a familiar twitch in his jaw, showing displeasure with my flippancy.
“I already thought it was personal,” I answered, maintaining my jaunty tone of voice. It gave me some measure of control not being too submissive at the start; though I could see by Reggie’s expression that I’d better not push too hard.
“You’re going to have me here?” I asked, as he walked past me into my living room with a purposeful air in his stride.
He didn’t answer, but set down an overnight bag on the carpet. I assumed he didn’t plan to spend the night, and I watched him curiously as he opened the zipper, and withdrew some sophisticated video recording equipment.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“A little something for posterity.”
“You’re not going to record this?”
He looked up at me and smiled. “You should find the possibilities intriguing, given your appetite for good lusty theatre.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I’d imagined him putting me through many trials, but never this!
“That’s my concern, Alexandra, not yours.”