“You know, Alexandra, your up turned rear has always fascinated me.” He was raising my skirt as he spoke, baring my bottom right there in the limo. I could be thankful that the windows were darkened so that people on the street couldn’t see. This was not completely private however, since the window between us and the driver left Reggie’s chauffeur with a clear view through his rear view mirror. I’d have to forget about that for the next half hour, with much more important things to concentrate on.
Leaning forward, Reggie’s right hand massaged my ass hard. “Such abuse a good posterior takes.” He ran his hand along the fleshy part of my cheeks, then to the cleft that was already moist. “I gave this quite the treatment I recall, and not a mark. Nothing permanent remains, just the memory. It’s so white and unblemished now.” I could just imagine what he was thinking, what new abuse he’d find to wreck on my poor bottom.
Reggie backed off for an instant and I couldn’t see what he was doing, especially when he pushed my head to the floor. Seconds later however, I discovered the nature of his pause, when a cool liquid lubricated me deep into my anal cleft. The liquid was rapidly followed by his latex covered fingers probing my rear channel. The first thrust in that tight hole was a shocking jolt. First one finger, then a second gained entrance. Reggie slipped in and out gently, the humiliation of such base sexual taking not lost on me. He knew, despite any protest I might raise, this would stir me as I’d often been before.
“As I recall, Will likes your ass,” he said.
“Yes,” I gasped a reply, hardly able to speak. It was certainly true, at Will’s prompting, my anal eroticism had been a focus of my earlier training with Reggie.
“And have you allowed him the opportunity to have you here?” Reggie asked me.
“Not often,” I admitted.
His fingers continued to probe me, going deeper and deeper, bringing me a soft seductive pleasure. I didn’t want him to stop.
“When was the last time?” he asked me.
I hesitated to confess the truth.
“Don’t lie,” he instructed me sternly, knowing why I was reluctant to respond.
“Likely a year,” I replied.
His next penetration with his fingers was abrupt, the deepest yet; maybe not by any particular design, though I think it was quite deliberate, a response to my woeful lack of consideration for Will. It was doubly worse when the limo suddenly jerked to a halt.
“Ouch!” I squirmed with the jarring discomfort.
“I’ll have to break you in again,” Reggie observed. “I’m surprised Will didn’t leave you before now, you fractious little tart.”
With a quick jerk, Reggie withdrew his fingers, an act I resented. Once he initially penetrated my rear, I was reminded that I did enjoy such attention. I was clamoring for sexual release, though it would have surprised me if Reggie allowed me any kind of sexual satisfaction.
I heard the sharp sound of the latex ripped from his hand. With the glove tossed to the floor, he turned his focus to a more immediate requirement, as he began an earnest and vibrant spanking with his bare hand.
I was astonished.
Yet, I didn’t have time to think about this very intimate chastisement. Each smack was hard, an instantaneous heat rising on my bottom. He was ruthless, as ruthless as he’d been with the leather paddle. I heard each smack as it vibrated through me and the air around us. I wondered if the driver heard as well as saw my plight. The very idea traversing the streets of the city while my bottom was getting royally spanked was a stunning thought in itself. Reggie’s hand covered my backside everywhere, with my ass cheeks swaying lewdly at his feet. They were raised high above my head, which made Reggie’s job all the more easy.
He laid several swats against my upper thighs, as ruthless as ones against my fleshier cheeks. I howled – it burned like hell. Others smacks landing on the side of my ass were equally painful. Everywhere my rear was not covered with a natural cushion hurt the most, and he knew it.
“Ouch! Please!” I wailed. I wasn’t proud at all anymore. I know the driver must have heard me. I was livid, enraged, this hurt so bad.
“Hush!” Reggie answered me harshly.
Though I didn’t stop my protests. “Enough please!” I tried once more.
But Reggie was adamant. My poor bottom must have been scarlet. It felt like a flame had been lit in me that would never go out.
When he paused for a moment, I knew he wasn’t done. He was moving around behind me. I heard a quick discernible snap of something.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Hush,” Reggie replied. “Keep your head down, or I’ll start over.
I felt something at my bottom and realized he now held a thin instrument in his hand. If I was to guess, it was some kind of baton, a small cane of sorts. Whatever, it was reed-like, thin, and likely designed to make a vicious kind of cut on my ass.
“Oh, no please don’t, I’m not ready for this, not yet,” I pleaded. There were tears in my eyes as I imagined the kind of sensation that this horrid thing would create.
“Since when does a submissive rule the master?” Reggie reminded me. “You’re behaving very badly, especially for a woman who asked for this.”
The first cut whisked through the air and landed in the center of my already punished cheeks.
“Yeeeeawwww!”
“You’re too soft,” he said.
Another cut landed on my bottom and I could swear it was right over the top of the first one.
“Please no more!” I begged him. I wiggled my rear trying to get away. I even thought of just bolting from the submissive pose, but that would be violating my agreement with him. Verbal protests certainly shouldn’t count, though I imagine even then I was treading on thin ice. I’d protested enough.
“You’ll take another six,” he announced. “That’s two more than I initially intended. . . . just because you’re behaving so badly.”
Reggie emphasized his point applying two cuts, one right after another, above and below the first ones.
“Ouch!” I howled, but there was neither time or words to frame my protest. At least I was half way through.
The swish was terrible, the cut worse yet. My burning bottom could hardly take more.
“I hate this!” I roared, as I waited for the final three.
“Good,” Reggie replied. The sixth cut landed low. I sobbed, hoping for compassion, though I should have been smart enough to know it would never be forthcoming. The last two cuts I relinquished myself. My fate sealed, I had no choice. My own free will. I asked for this!
The seventh and eighth cuts were over quickly. I’m not sure it was a signal of some empathy from Reggie that they were softer than the others; but I willingly took them without protest.
Done, I collapsed completely.
There was an incredible silence inside the limo. I could hear the sounds of the street, honking horns, the swish of traffic, while I felt the sensuous rumbling of the limousine as we continued this bizarre journey.
Bringing me back to reality, I looked up to see Reggie moving in his seat, replacing the collapsible cane in his coat pocket. Absurdly, I wondered if he always carried it around just in case there was some naughty behind to discipline—“you never know”. It was almost laughable, except that I was still on the floor, still waiting for another command. Finally, I pulled myself to my knees and sat back on my heels humbly before him.
He reached down and put his hand to my chin, and lifted it.
“So now, how does it feel?”
“Warm, very warm,” I managed to say through my yet descending tears.
“And you’re aroused?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t deny it. The afterglow always had that effect, making punishment such a crafty tool of a dominant man. Why it does this is still a minor mystery to me—minor only because I don’t bother much to question it anymore.
“You remember then why you do this,” he said.
The erotic desire was
pounding through me. I wanted release. Not with Reggie, I wanted Will; I wanted his comforting arms around me, I’d even take him being dominant with me now. Strange that I felt this way, when I had expended so much energy trying to keep Will and this kind of submission separate.
I knew Reggie would leave me longing. Oh, I could easily have given myself to him; but I knew that wouldn’t happen. Reggie always found it easy to separate sex and punishment, even though I never could.
He still held my chin as if I were a child. My bared bottom was still resting on my legs, as I felt its warmth make me sexually ravenous.
“So, Alexandra. I’ll find you when I want you next, readily available?”
“Yes sir.”
“And, I hope, a little more compliant.” He raised his eyebrows in judgment of the fit I’d thrown.
“I’ll do my best.”
“I hope so.”
The limo stopped. Either it was miraculous timing, or Reggie had this prearranged, so that we would stop at this very instant. It was the sudden end of this session.
“We’re at the corner across from my office. I trust you can make your way to your car from here?”
“Yes, certainly,” I replied.
“I had just enough time to pull down my skirt before the driver opened the door. I was still at Reggie’s feet, and blushed to have this stranger see me like this, though he’d likely seen even more through the revealing rear view mirror.
“Hope you enjoyed your lunch,” Reggie said.
I smiled softly as I was helped from the car.
It was a shock standing on the city street with cars whizzing by. In one world, suddenly jerked into another, I was too flustered to move for some time. I watched as Reggie’s limo drove off. For an instant, I thought I must be standing there bare ass to the world; though reaching around, I found my dress exactly where it belonged, covering my well punished bottom.
I was a little wobbly as I walked toward the parking garage. Automatically I pulled my dress up as I climbed into the seat of my car, so I could rest my warm red rear on the leather. Relishing the heavenly feeling, I caught myself wondering when I’d see him next.
But I was just slightly worried that once again I’d placed too much emphasis on my ruthless dominant, and not enough on the purpose of my submission.
Chapter Four
“Are you ready?”
I looked at Reggie standing in the doorway of my apartment, looking fresh as the new day, neat as a pin in his crisp blue shirt and blue jeans. For the occasion he also wore his charming genteel grin, the dangerous one that more than once tricked me into thinking the man had some degree of real affection for me.
“Ready? For what?”
“Our shopping trip,” he said.
“What shopping trip?”
“The one you obviously need.” He invited himself inside, with no further explanation. Brushing past me he even gave me an unexpected peck on the cheek.
“My, you’re cheery,” I said. I was still dressed in my robe, a coffee mug in my hand. I was trembling too, seeing Reggie in ‘my space.’ He’d never been inside my humble surroundings, ones that I had just so recently shared with Will. To my dismay, Will had removed every trace of himself that he could find, quite a task considering that this had once been his apartment, and I’d moved in with him.
“You dressed underneath that?” he asked, nodding at my robe. He was sitting back casually on my couch, acting as if he owned the place. I was sure he was going to make me open my robe which would reveal my naked body.
“No,” I said.
“Wear something short today, you need to be accessible.”
“Yes, of course,” I agreed as if it were unnecessary for him to say so. The fact that he was sitting in my living room still seemed absurd to me. I could have protested, made up some imaginary event that would prevent my attendance at his command performance, but the truth was, I had the day totally free. There was nothing to command my time other than laundry, a little house cleaning, and a novel I’d been wanting to finish.
“Retreating to the bedroom, I quickly found a red shift dress with long sleeves, a round neckline and a very short skirt. It fit tightly around my hips, and should certainly please him. Assuming this was another chapter in my ongoing punishment, I wore nothing else but a bra. He asked for accessible, this was scandalous. Quickly brushing my hair back into a voluminous ponytail, I touched up my face with some light make-up, then found my black pumps, sure Reggie would insist on high heels.
Hoping for some indication of his approval, I was disappointed to find him coolly detached observing my attire, and totally non-committal. I assumed it was pleasing though because he didn’t ask me to change.
In the car, this time his yellow Porsche, we sat side by side, Reggie practically able to view my pussy, the way the skirt rode up high on my thighs. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, though under the conditions, relaxing with Reggie was a near impossibility.
“I think you’ll really appreciate this excursion,” he declared, as we roared erratically through the city streets. “You do like antiques, don’t you? I noticed several lovely ones in your apartment.”
“I do, but why antiques today?” I asked.
As I spoke, he pulled up at an antique store in the midst of a quaint city neighborhood, where the only other businesses were a corner grocery, a dry cleaners, and a small cafe.
Reggie had not answered the question, but instead hopped from the car and graciously opened my door for me. I’m sure he got quite a look up my skirt as I struggled to rise; though he said nothing.
Escorting me into the shop, I was as instantly transported to another time with musty smells and the pungent fragrance of old things greeting me. There was a bell on the door to announce our presence to an elderly proprietor, a jaunty man with a twinkle in his gray eyes. I imagine he was once a very dapper gentleman, still very well dressed. I would have expected someone more ‘frumpy’ than this shopkeeper.
“Ah! Mr. Harold, I’m glad you could make it.”
“Did you find the things I asked for?” Reggie asked.
The old man’s eyes lit brightly again. “Ah yes. I try always to have a few tools of the trade in the shop. You’d be surprised how many people ask for such things these days.” The man turned and slowly made his way between two ancient wardrobes, past several other pieces of antique furniture, all laden with fine glassware and china. I could have stopped and inspected the fascinating wares a dozen times along the way, but it was obvious that we were here for a specific purpose, casual browsing not an option.
It seemed the shop went on forever as we followed the old man on his winding path through the maze of treasures he had displayed there. At last, reaching a plain three drawer chest, he stopped. Turning, he looked first at Reggie, then at me, then at Reggie again. “For the lady’s discipline?” he asked, looking me in the eye.
“Yes,” Reggie replied.
I was still bewildered by the journey, though I wasn’t particularly surprised when the old man opened the top drawer and pulled out a smooth lean punishment paddle.
“This was an old reform school implement,” he said, handing the dreadful thing to Reggie. Eighteen inches long and three inches wide, made of hard wood. Reggie ran his hand along the smooth surface, a dozen coats of shellac and regular use had made the surface like glass, almost soft looking. Though I imagined I’d find it hard and unforgiving. I thought of a one room school house, this hanging on the wall for wayward students to contemplate. A reform school? That had even more ominous connotations. Of course, if anyone is supposed to be ‘reformed,’ it was me. Perhaps that was the point.
“Have you had one of these laid on your bottom?” Reggie turned to ask me.
“No,” I whispered my reply.
“Then, we’ll test it.”
Test, I wondered silently.
“What else do you have?” Reggie asked.
“There are standard hairbrushes,” the man offered.
“No,” Reggie said firmly. “This one isn’t so conventional that a hairbrush would do on her behind.”
The old man nodded, while I stood back, noting the way these two men could talk so easily about my fate.
“Then perhaps she should be punished with a razor strop. I always found it a most compelling implement.” Reaching down, he pulled out a drawer at the bottom of the chest. Reaching deep inside, his hand withdrew the leather strop, a wild looking thing some three feet long, the leather very supple.
I shivered instantly. Something out of a fantasy, the real thing looked easily as ominous as anything my imagination could create. I love leather. I suppose this might be the ultimate discipline tool, steeped in historical lore, it held a fascination all its own.
“Of course Mr. Harold, the finest correction requires a cane.” From yet another drawer his chest of treasures, he pulled out the thin vile looking instrument. He whisked the thing through the air with a sharp stroke, a well practiced one at that. I jerked back instantly, as if my repulsion would mean something important to these two men. I imagined the man was quite an accomplished disciplinarian, the snap of his wrist as flawless as if he were a youthful man of twenty-five. And Reggie’s enchanted gaze was frightful. He made certain that I didn’t miss it.
I’d like to try these out,” Reggie announced.
The old man’s eyes glimmered. “Certainly, you can both get a better appreciation of the effects with some firsthand experience. I think there’s room back here to work.”
With Reggie holding the strap, paddle, and the cane, we followed the proprietor deeper into his shop, to a place that was conveniently open for the task at hand. We were surrounded by more of the old man’s wares, but there was plenty of space for Reggie to work. I knew without going any further that this was far more than a test.
“Over the table?” the old man suggested. “Or maybe you’d have her across your lap?”
“Not over the lap for these,” Reggie said. “They require more distance between me and her ass.”
The Alexandra Series Page 23