Casey's Choice

by Alexis Alvarez

  “Baby, no, it doesn’t work like that.” His voice was firm, but also sad. “It really doesn’t.”

  “But I want it to.”

  “Casey, here’s the thing about dominance and submission. Look at me. There’s a lot of crap in books, okay? About doms who do exactly what you’re asking for. That’s art, okay? Made up. In reality? You’re the only one who can get the anger and sadness out of you, and it won’t come through physical pain. Baby, it just won’t.”

  She started to talk and he put a finger on her mouth. “I’ll give you the pain because I’m a sadist and you’re a masochist, and because I want to train you to obey my commands in the bedroom. I’ll give you pain because it gives us both pleasure, okay? And I can even punish you for little things, like not saying Sir, or not crawling as fast as I want, because it’s part of a game of cause and effect. I spank you for not saying Sir, you say Sir next time, we both have great sex, and you’re more submissive. If you want that kind of relationship, that can add an amazing depth to your sex life, and punishments in that style only help increase the pleasure long-term.

  “But for the really important stuff? The things in life that really matter on a human, fundamental level? The stuff of relationships? That’s got to be handled a different way.” His voice was apologetic and earnest. “So if you want pain from me, I’ll bring it, but not to punish you for something that’s burning you up inside. I can make you forget the inner demons for a while, sure, and I’m happy to do that. But I can’t kill them for you.”

  She pushed her head into his shoulder. “You must think I’m stupid.”

  “I think you’re brilliant. You just want something nobody can give.” He smiled at her, but his eyes were serious. “I’ll play with you, I’ll give you bliss, and I can make you forget your issues for a while. If you want that, I’m your man.”

  A tear fell from her eye, and he wiped it with his thumb. “Casey.” His voice was hoarse with affection. “Babe, it’s going to be okay. This time we’ll do it right. I promise. Shh. Stop crying.” She nodded, and he wiped her eyes again and then his voice was firm. “I’ll roleplay it with you if you want, we can make it almost real, but it’s up to you to forgive yourself. Understand?”

  She gulped and nodded, took a deep breath. His eyes were glittering with arousal now, and she wanted him. Just like that. She wanted the pain, the bliss, the forgetfulness. With Max.

  “Yes.”

  And now his face was suddenly even more stern than before. “You’re going to obey me completely, now. No violations.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She immediately snapped into high protocol.

  “I’m going to determine when your punishment is complete, not you. You will submit to me and obey everything I ask. If you do not obey, I will hold you down and spank you harder.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And when we’re done, you are no longer going to feel a single shred of guilt over the club, the lying, the deception. You are not going to stay awake one more night crying about it. You will not bring it up again, because it will be wiped out of your mind. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice wobbled. “I want that, very much.”

  “That’s the way it will be. This is the last time you’ll be punished for this, Casey, and I want that to be crystal clear. Nobody, including you—especially you—is going to give you any grief for this after tonight. Look into my eyes and tell me yes, otherwise we don’t do this at all.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Yes. Never again.”

  “And then you’re going to come for me, over and over, until you almost pass out from the pleasure. Your reward for taking the pain first.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I like that idea.”

  “Good. Now hand me the wooden spoon, and lie down over my lap. Like at the club.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She approached him and he took her hand, a grip that was at once strong and tender, and she knew it was going to be all right, no matter what happened. When he guided her over his lap, arranging her position so that her hips were over his thighs, her buttocks jutting upward, she felt a surge of anxiety. “Does the spoon hurt a lot?”

  He chuckled. “You tell me.”

  He placed one hand on her back, pushing down gently, then raised his arm, and whack—the spoon hit with a fleshy crack, and she cried out at the burst of pain. “Ow!”

  “Well? Did that hurt?”

  “Yes!” She automatically reached her hand back, and he grabbed it, pinned it to the small of her back. “No reaching. You know that rule already. Two extra for disobeying.” And he rapped her with two fiery strokes, one on each sit spot. She wailed and twisted. “Casey, hold still. This is going to be far longer and more painful than it needs to be if you fight me.”

  “I know,” she gasped. “But it surprised me. It hurt so much, so instantly. It’s horrible.” She twisted her hips again, trying to get some relief, and he whacked the spoon down across her thighs, making her jump and yell.

  “I’ll keep doing this until you lie still,” he threatened, “and only then do we start the ten. Is that how you want it?”

  “I’m trying,” she gasped, and gave a small wail. “It hurts.”

  “Yes.”

  He waited, resting the one hand lightly on her back, until she forced herself to lie still. “Max, God. Ow.”

  “Ready?” His voice held no sympathy.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath.

  Without a word, he brought the spoon down hard, once and again, immediately, and she wailed out again at the shocking sear on her skin, but forced herself to lie still, not wanting extras.

  “That was two.” He paused. “Here are two more.” The next two blows fell on her thighs, eliciting a high wail, and then he assaulted her sit spots several times before going back to the thighs. He finished with a resounding crack in the middle of both cheeks, almost on top of her anus, and she felt the pain and the shock of the blow down through her tender hole as well as in the fleshy parts of her ass.

  “Ten.” He dropped the spoon on the table. “First set of ten, anyway. Quite a few more to go.”

  She wiped tears from her eyes. “Max, that hurts so much. Please, I need to rub it, please. Ow, oh, ouch.”

  “No.” His voice was strict. “You don’t get to do that. During the punishment, you need to feel every bit of it to ensure that you’re contrite and that you accept the chastisement. Don’t ask again.”

  “I’m sorry.” She felt more tears fall.

  “I know. Now stand up. You’re going to do five minutes in the corner between each round. I want you to think about how you’re not going to lie again about who you are. Because you’re fucking perfect just the way you are.”

  Her heart swelled with emotion, and she covered it with a question. “The c-corner?”

  “Yes.” He pointed. “Right over there. Nose to the wall, or as close as you can get. Hands laced behind your head, legs spread. No fidgeting. Absolutely no touching your ass. If you do it, even once, I’ll repeat the entire set of ten with the spoon, and I’ll make them twice as hard.”

  “But that’s so severe.”

  “Yes. And you can avoid it completely by obeying me, even if it’s difficult. Understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She felt tears roll down her face. “Can I wipe my eyes?”

  “No. I’ll do it for you.”

  He came closer, and dabbed her face with a tissue. “Don’t move your hands.” His touch was tender as he rubbed away each tear, so softly.

  “I won’t. Sir.”

  He ran his hands over her breasts. “Christ, your nipples are so hard. Like little rocks.”

  She shuddered under his touch. “Max.”

  “But that’s for later.”

  She whined out a protest. “But I want you to touch me.”

  “Isn’t this what you asked for?” His voice was stern. “To be punished at my hand, according to my rules? To empty your head of all your troubles?”

  “Y
es.”

  “So should you be arguing about what I choose, or how I decide to do it?”

  “No, Sir. I should not. I won’t do it again.”

  “Good.” He walked to the table and returned with the spoon. “Do I need to give you some extras to remind you about who’s boss right now?”

  She sobbed. “If you feel that you need to, it’s your right and your place to decide.”

  The sudden burst of pain on her bottom let her know what he’d decided. “Stand still and keep your fingers laced.” He stepped back for more leverage, and brought the spoon down extra hard against her ass, once and again. She wailed and jumped but squeezed her fingers together tightly, her legs trembling with the exertion of not moving.

  “Nice.” He ran the spoon over her ass, then followed it with his hand. “You’re getting the hang of this. I’m going to do what I want, when I want, and you’re going to accept it, no matter what it is. Even if you don’t like it. Clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed.

  “Don’t move.” She steeled herself in preparation, but was startled by the severity of the pain when the spoon hit again, again, again. She cried to herself as he gave her several more bruising blows, and was relieved when he walked back to the table. “Come back over here, Casey. It’s time for round two.”

  She walked over awkwardly, her hands still laced behind her head, because he hadn’t said to take them down. Her ass throbbed with the beat of her pulse and she still had so much more to go. Hopefully the next implement was not as severe, but her heart fell when she saw him pick up the little belt. It was thin but sturdy, and she figured he could whip her nice and hard with the pliable little scrap of leather.

  “Next up, your very own belt,” he told her in a stern voice. “This time I want you to kneel on the couch, legs wide, and rest your body against the back of the couch, arms in front of you. Don’t try to close your legs or reach back.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She scrambled up, feeling awkward and exposed, leaned into the couch, feeling the cloth under her stomach and breasts, and inched her legs open.

  “Wider. I want to see your pussy and asshole.”

  “Max!” she squeaked, but remembered the extras with the spoon, and quickly widened her stance.

  “Good. Stay in position for all ten.”

  He came up beside her and touched her back, then she heard the swish of the belt and felt a sharp burn against both ass cheeks. She hissed out her breath and clenched her muscles. He whipped steadily with the little belt, making stripes across the middle of her ass that overlapped, and she whimpered with each of the first five, and cried out in moans at the next, which were harder and searing. “Max, ouch! Please, stop! It hurts.”

  “You don’t get to tell me to stop,” he reminded her, and despite the pain, those words drove such a surge of arousal through her that she almost thought she might come, right there.

  “That gets you wet, doesn’t it?” he said, and bit her hard on the neck. “Jesus, Casey, it’s all I can do not to fuck you right this minute.” He drove two fingers into her wetness and rubbed, and she cried out in pleasure, pushing her hips into his touch.

  He reached around and grabbed her nipple, squeezed it, rubbing her slick juices over the hardened nub. “I want to lick this off of you,” he murmured. “Then kiss you, so you can taste your own pussy on my lips.”

  “Yes, do it,” she urged him. “Please.”

  “Not yet. We still have quite a few things to accomplish first.”

  He took his hands away and she mewled in disappointment, although she knew better than to argue right now.

  “I think you’re getting a little too comfortable,” he told her, “so we’ll use this hairbrush.” He showed her the thick, broad one. “It’s like a nice solid paddle. This one is going to hurt more than the spoon, if I do it right.”

  She sucked in her breath in alarm. “But my ass is already sore.”

  “And it will become even more sore. Back over my lap. Don’t waste time.”

  She hurried to get back over his lap. “Please don’t hit too hard.”

  “Do you get to make requests tonight?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  She bit her lip. “No, Sir.”

  He brought the brush down, a hard spank with his muscle behind him, a powerful strike across her left cheek. It was the hardest thing she’d felt yet, and the pain surged through her ass, making her jump. “Aaaa!”

  Her legs flailed and her arms came up, and without a word he grabbed her legs under his, pulled her hands to the small of her back and held them there, and gave her an identical spank on the other cheek. It felt full force, and he was a strong man, and she wailed, thrusting at him in vain to get free. “Stop.”

  But the next two came harder, if possible. Whack, whack. Right on each sit spot. She felt like her entire ass was on fire, but then brush fell again, the same spots and she gurgled and screeched at him. “Max! Ow! No.” The next blows rained all over her ass, making her dance and writhe on his lap, and she was breathing hard and sobbing when he told her, “Ten.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do anymore!” She begged. “Please, Max.”

  “Corner.” He pointed. “Now. If you waste time, you get extras with the brush. Is that what you want?”

  She shook her head and shuffled to the corner, and put her hands behind her head. Her ass was killing her! There was no way she could stand here for five minutes without rubbing it. Max came over to wipe her eyes again, and offered her water, through a straw, and she sucked eagerly, not realizing how thirsty she was. “Doing okay?” He pulled her chin, examined her face.

  “It hurts.” She met his eyes. “It stings a lot.”

  He nodded somberly. “And you knew it would. You’re halfway through, almost. Do you need to stop?”

  “I thought I didn’t get that choice.” She was relieved and disappointed at once.

  “It’s my decision,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “I’m not asking if you want to stop. I’m asking if you need to stop for any reason. You say you need to stop, we stop. No question about it. Be honest.”

  She shook her head, tears falling again. “I guess I don’t need to, but I sort of want to. I wish you would just stop and make love to me right now.”

  “Then we keep going. Drink.” He kissed her neck, a tender caress, before lifting the glass.

  She nodded and sipped the water again, and before she knew it, he summoned her back to the couch for round three. This time he held up the rubber spatula, and she took a breath of relief. Surely that wouldn’t hurt as much as the wooden spoon and the huge hairbrush.

  “This time,” Max ordered, “I want you on your back on the table.” He scooped up the implements and laid them on the couch. “Raise your legs up and hold them apart, up high, behind your knees.”

  Casey sucked in her breath. “What?”

  “It’s called the diaper position,” Max said, with a smirk. “Very open, embarrassing position for naughty subs. Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear a diaper. Not into that, and I doubt you are. But I do think this position will make you feel very humble, as you should.”

  With her legs up, clutching behind her knees, she felt ridiculous and babyish. “This is strange. Can’t you do a different way?”

  “Why don’t you like this?”

  “It’s humiliating,” she whispered. “It makes me feel young and small.”

  “I want you to feel that way.” He met her eyes. “Lift your legs higher, and spread them wider.”

  She blushed and felt tears in her eyes. “I can’t imagine how it looks.”

  “It looks vulgar and slutty and submissive. Perfect.” He tweaked one nipple and she squeaked. “Don’t let go or I’ll give you additional strikes. If you close your legs, even a little bit, I’ll use the brush again in addition to the spatula, understand?”

  “Yes. I won’t. I promise.”

  “Tell me again what position this is?”

  “T
he—the…” She didn’t want to say it. He brought the brush down with a resounding crack and she screeched. “The diaper position!”

  “That’s right. Why are you here?”

  “Because I lied and pretended to be someone else.”

  “In which position again?”

  She felt tears leak from her eyes. “The—diaper position.”

  “Remember that. Lying and spying are childish things. Here’s the spatula to help.”

  When it hit, she yelped. It wasn’t as painful as the brush, but it stung. The heat built up, and by the time he reached nine, she couldn’t help it: She shifted her legs, and he warned her, “What did I tell you?”

  “Not to move my legs.”

  “What happens if you do?”

  “The—the brush.”

  Instead of answering, he brought the brush down in a blistering barrage of smacks, over and over until she was begging him to stop. “Max, Max, ouch, please, God, it hurts, please.” It wasn’t until he’d laid several more brushstrokes that he stopped. Casey moaned and twisted her body, dying to rub her ass for relief, but she held her legs open, not wanting further brush treatment. He gave her the final tenth spatula spank once he dropped the brush back to the couch.

  Max tweaked her other nipple. “This is harder than you expected, isn’t it?” He walked around the table to examine her from all angles. “You thought I’d hold you down and spank you until you cried. You probably had no idea I’d force you to participate in your own punishment, make you hold positions you don’t like, even though it hurts like hell.”

  She nodded, and shifted her thighs, trying to lift up each buttock, as if the air could take away the burn.

  “I think that’s the best way to do a punishment,” he mused. “Making you take part in it makes you really understand what’s going on. And when it’s over, you’ll feel that much more relieved. And when you forgive yourself, it will be more heartfelt, because you helped with the punishment yourself.”