‘Are you consistent? Does she know that
any
unacceptable behaviour will result in these marks of punishment?’
Bryant sighed. ‘No, I suppose I have let her get away with a great deal.’
‘There you are. You must strengthen your will, Mr Masterton; you may find that you are spanking your wife ten times a day, but eventually, the message will get through. I know it will be … unpleasant for you, at first.’
Charlotte heard the mild snuffle of repressed mirth from her play-husband. Unpleasant! Yeah. Right.
‘But it’s necessary.’ As if to reinforce this point, Collins began to spank Charlotte’s naked behind with loud, percussive, stinging smacks that made her wriggle and yelp. Although he wielded canes, crops, paddles and straps with expert accuracy, somehow his hand had a uniquely painful quality all of its own, especially on bare skin. She knew she could safeword at any time without prejudice, but it was important to Charlotte to
do what Lady Markham would do
. And Lady Markham had been known to wear out a variety of professional Doms, both male and female, in the past. She was obviously some kind of super-submissive, and Charlotte aspired to her high tolerance of pain and humiliation.
‘Even if your hand begins to tire,’ Collins was lecturing Bryant as he worked, ‘you must not end the punishment until it is very obvious that your wife is chastened. I see that Mrs Masterton is unusually stubborn, so she will require an unusually sore bottom. Isn’t that so, Mrs Masterton?’
‘Ouch! Please stop! This is outrageous!’ was Charlotte’s dramatic response. She knew that her bottom was radiating serious heat now, and she imagined with some satisfaction the exact shade of red it must be. All the same, the sting was beginning to build to barely bearable proportions, and she wanted to pretend to relent. Surely Collins’s hand must be swollen to about twice its natural size by now? How long could he keep this up?
‘You agree with me, then,’ he said smoothly. ‘You need particularly firm handling and severe punishment. I shall mention this on your notes.’ The scorching rain ceased for a moment of blessed relief. ‘Come and look at her bottom, Mr Masterton,’ invited the ersatz doctor. ‘This is the kind of result you need to be aiming for.’
Bryant stepped over, placing a hand on the sizzling skin.
‘Gosh, it’s awfully hot. I don’t know that I’ve ever spanked her as hard as that.’
‘Well, that is where you are going wrong, I imagine,’ said Collins grimly. ‘And we aren’t even finished yet.’
Charlotte moaned, but refused to say the words of surrender.
‘Or are we, madam? Do you want to save yourself additional chastisement by promising to serve your husband in a fitting spirit of submission?’
‘Oh … it’s not fair …’ she wailed ineffectually.
‘She isn’t ready yet,’ Collins confirmed. ‘In that case, I recommend that she spends some reflective time in the corner before we continue with the next phase of her punishment.’
Charlotte began to shift in Collins’s lap, preparing to stand, thinking that a period in the corner, dull as it was, would give her bottom some recovery time. She thought wrong.
‘Ah ah ah, not so fast, young lady,’ cautioned Collins. ‘I have something that might aid your reflections first. Mr Masterton, when your wife is in such an obstinate frame of mind that an over-the-knee hand spanking does not suffice, I recommend this little device to concentrate her mind during corner time.’
Charlotte did not know what Collins was taking out of his desk drawer, but she twitched with delicious dread, knowing it would be nothing trifling or ignorable.
‘Oh! What an interesting idea!’ Charlotte heard the poorly hidden glee in Bryant’s voice.
‘You think so? Good. Perhaps you would like to prepare her for me.’
Charlotte, so turned on that she could barely keep still, now that the spanking had ended and only its warm, fierce, arousing residual effects remained, writhed in Collins’s lap, anxious not to dampen his smart trousers.
‘Keep still,’ advised Bryant, and then she stiffened as his finger, coated in cold, wet, slippery stuff, snuck in between the scorched buttocks and began to grease up her tiny hidden anal bud. Not an enema, she hoped. She hated those. She clenched her teeth and silently prayed for a butt plug. Surely it must be a butt plug. But how big? She knew Collins was not a fan of the smaller-sized invaders.
Bryant’s forefinger was penetrating her ring now with a rude slurping sound and she was trying hard not to tense her muscles and let him prepare her most private passage for public violation by the doctor.
‘She is not a virgin in this method of intercourse, is she?’ enquired Collins casually.
‘Oh no,’ Bryant assured him with a laugh.
‘Good. Another course I recommend is to restrict her to anal sex without climax when she is behaving badly. Forbid masturbation, obviously. We have special equipment you can purchase to make her own private parts inaccessible to her, if required. I’ll show you our catalogue, while she is in the corner.’
‘I would be very interested to see it.’
Charlotte let out a low cry as the slick bulbous silicone head of a large butt plug replaced Bryant’s finger in her tender circle of muscle. At least she had escaped without an enema, she reasoned. But this plug was
big
, travelling slowly but inescapably up the tight channel, creating a burn that made her gasp and struggle fruitlessly, for Collins’s hand was heavy on her back and Bryant was holding her thighs straight so that she could not kick or move away.
‘Ohhhhh,’ she moaned, as the widest part of the plug arrived triumphantly at her door, stretching her almost beyond endurance. ‘No!’
Collins held it there, the sadist in him profoundly satisfied, for a full minute, before shoving the remainder up inside her and patting the wide flange that secured it in her bottom.
‘How does that feel, Mrs Masterton?’ he asked, idly twiddling the base of the plug to create a riot of pleasure-pain sensation inside his hapless client. ‘A bit difficult to be rebellious when your bottom is packed full of your master’s plug, isn’t it? Have a good long think about that while you’re in the corner.’ He gave her one last hard spank for luck, the vibrations of it causing the plug to jiggle inside her. ‘Off you go. Hands on head and spine straight, please, or there will be consequences.’
The two men spent a pleasurable few minutes of silence in contemplation of their colleague, waddling gracelessly across the room and then coming to rest, scarlet-bottomed and plugged in the corner, her long hair cascading down to the middle of her back, her arms arched pleasingly either side of her head.
‘That’s one of the finest bottoms in London,’ commented Collins at last. ‘You’re a lucky man. Or, at least, you will be, once you can get her to behave herself.’
Charlotte, cornered and feeling as meekly submissive as she ever did, listened at first to their conversation, which revolved around plugs and whips and chastity devices; gags and clamps and heated lubricants. At least they had only used plain lube today, she thought gratefully, hearing Collins extol the delights of a lubricant made with chilli oil. On the other hand, this plug was so large and solid that one could never ever forget that it was lodged there, stretching and making her passage smart.
The degrading plugging, combined with her still-throbbing bum, and the way the men were casually discussing plans for her further humiliating use made Charlotte achingly aware of her wet, hot pussy and the juices leaking down her thighs. She would give anything to be allowed to sneak a hand down between her legs just now, oh, anything at all. She tried hard to maintain her posture, but she could not help a little snaky wriggle of her hips, squeezing her cheeks together to hug the plug even tighter and try to rub her lower lips against something, anything, just the merest touch of friction would probably make her come then and there in the corner.
The only thing for it was to try and take her mind off it, she realised. Concentrate, Charlotte! Think of something mundane, or unpleasant. Oh! A flash of the earlier scene returned to her, making her feel deeply uncomfortable. The suggestion that Collins might be married had given her a real jolt, and she was still not quite sure why. Well, for one thing, she thought virtuously, she would not want to wreck some poor woman’s marriage. If someone was lucky enough to be married to Collins, presumably she would want to stay that way and not worry about him fooling around with submissive little sluts like her. Or perhaps she had no interest in BDSM, knew all about his work-related activities and fully condoned them. Perhaps she had lovers of her own. Perhaps they were polyamorists. Perhaps she was a dominatrix! Perhaps she would like to join in the games … Oh dear. Charlotte’s attempts to douse the flames in her lower regions were simply making her even more excited.
Now look here, Charlotte
, she enjoined herself sternly.
If Collins is married, it’s none of your business. You have no claim on him. This is work, pure and simple.
But was it? Could she continue to work for these men without wanting more from them than wild kinky sex? And if she couldn’t … what then?
‘… Have you ever tried tying her to the bed and bringing her to the brink of orgasm, then denying it, repeatedly?’
Collins’s voice cut through the angst and Charlotte returned to the reality of her fantasy situation. Her arms were beginning to ache, so she must have been standing there for a good while. Her bottom was sorer than ever and she longed to expel the plug, which was sending waves of pain through her pelvic area now, though her pussy was even wetter than before.
‘No, but I’d like to try it,’ said Bryant. ‘Her sex drive is high, but she seems to delight in locking me out of the bedroom and bringing herself off, noisily. I think she does it to make me angry.’
‘Passive-aggressive,’ said Collins sagely. ‘Well, we can deal with that. I think she’s served her corner time now. Mrs Masterton, please come back here now, and we’ll deal with your defiance and disobedience.’
Charlotte both welcomed and feared her release from the corner. She knew she would be made to take more punishment, but after that, she was optimistic that she would be used hard for rough, assertive sexual release by both of her bosses. Her legs were stiff and her progress back to Collins’s desk correspondingly slow. The plug was enormous inside her now and her legs seemed made of her juices, the skin of her thighs cold and glossy.
‘I’m going to use a paddle next,’ said Collins to Bryant, and Charlotte groaned inwardly. The one thing she hated on her bottom above all others was wood. She would have to give in fairly swiftly – but she supposed this was all part of Collins’s plan. He must be impatient to move on to another activity. Well, that was fine with her!
She allowed Bryant to push her down until she was bent over a low footstool covered in rubberised coating. Presumably it must have some medical function, but she could not imagine what.
She waited, eyes screwed shut, for the removal of the plug – always somehow worse than its insertion – but it did not happen.
Instead, oval-shaped pats on her rear introduced her to the knowledge that she was about to be given a hard paddling with the butt plug still inside her.
‘This will hurt, Mrs Masterton,’ said Collins softly. ‘But it’s a necessary pain. Cruel to be kind. You must let me know when you’ve had enough by using the words “I surrender.” I shall stop immediately as soon as I hear them. But you do understand that, once spoken, those words cannot be taken back, and you will signal your willingness to serve and submit to your husband. Now then. Let us begin.’
The first stroke was fierce and Charlotte wailed aloud, feeling aftershock pains tremble through the inside as well as the outside of her bottom as the plug was driven deeper. Only a few of these could be taken before she gave in.
She made it to eight, by a combination of gripping, lip-biting, foot-lifting and hip-wriggling, but her bottom was so hot it was almost cold, so sore it was almost numb.
‘She’s a stubborn little madam,’ said Collins, rather fondly. ‘But I’ll break her.’
Charlotte heard the rustle of his shirtsleeve as he drew his arm back once more.
‘I surrender,’ she gabbled.
Bryant clapped, while Collins gave her burning cheeks a comprehensive feel with both hands.
‘You have made a wise decision,’ he said. ‘You won’t be sitting comfortably for a while all the same. Poor Mrs Masterton.’ One finger hooked itself beneath the plug flange and yanked it out in a swift, unutterably painful move. Although its absence was a relief, Charlotte could feel her muscle flaring and contracting, confused by the sudden extraction.
‘Your punishment is over,’ said Collins soothingly. ‘But we must still address another matter.’ He pulled apart her bottom cheeks, inspecting the gaping hole between them, then took hold of her arms at the elbows and helped her to stand. ‘Look at your husband. Look him in the eye.’
Charlotte, always in a small, tight space of beautiful submission after being dealt with by Collins, found it difficult and shaming to make eye contact. But she managed to lift her gaze to meet Bryant’s kind blue eyes and held them, blushing furiously all over while Collins removed her skirt for good.
‘Do you find him attractive?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice husky, throat uncleared. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Is he a good husband to you?’
‘Yes, he is. He is never angry or mean or rude or sulky.’
‘So he is a good man; the man for you?’
‘I … think so.’ Bryant looked as if he was accepting her words at face value. He looked somehow
moved
, as if he had forgotten that this was all part of a scene.
‘I see. But something troubles me, Mrs Masterton. Your husband has told me that you are in the practice of withholding sex from him. Why do you do that, when you are so obviously a wanton little slut?’
Charlotte gasped. Collins’s hand had made a lightning strike between her legs and he was fingering her soaked pussy with ruthless efficiency.
‘I’m … not …’ she said faintly.
‘How can you deny it? You’re extremely wet down here, yet all I’ve done is punish you. If you can be aroused by something as unpleasurable as a strange man’s hand spanking your bottom, then how can you claim not to want a good fucking?’