I fetched a nearby ottoman, rolling it directly in front of her, then hurrying to my hall closet I pulled out my black silk scarf.
“Are you still here?” she called.
“Yes, I’m here,” I replied returning to the room. “I’m just deciding how hard I should spank you.”
“It was just a little peek.”
“A peek is still a peek, an instruction disobeyed is an instruction disobeyed, and since you can’t be trusted I’m going to blindfold you.”
Slipping the scarf over her eyes I secured it behind her head, then settled on the ottoman.
“Do you want some dessert?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then you must earn it. Please undo the top six buttons.”
Lifting her perfectly manicured fingers she popped them open, revealing a black satin corset.
“I like your choice of underwear,” I smiled as I reached for the dessert plate. “You definitely get some chocolate for that. Open up.”
As I spooned the rich sweet morsel into her mouth she moaned with pleasure, then poked out her tongue, hopeful for a second helping.
“Was that delicious?”
“So delicious,” she murmured.
“If you want more, undo the rest of the buttons.”
I could sense she was a tad nervous, but she found her courage and continued, and as the dress fell open I saw the garters attached to the stockings, but no underwear.
“Oh, Helen, you are a naughty girl, a very naughty girl.”
“Is that a good thing?” she whispered.
“Good enough for me to give you more dessert,” I grinned.
I fed her a large mouthful, then returning the plate to the side table I stood up and took her hand.
“Up on your feet, let the dress fall off your arms, I want to take a look at this gorgeous package.”
As she rose from the couch the fire flickered off the corset’s glossy black satin, and her spectacular figure came into view. Everything was in proportion, her full, plump breasts matched her full plump bottom, a bottom I fervently wanted to spank.
“I’m going to bend you over an ottoman, so move about three feet to your right and drop to your knees.”
As she lowered herself down I placed my arm around her waist and moved her torso forward, stretching her over the oversized brown leather seat. It positioned her perfectly, and would allow me to sit comfortably on the couch as I spanked her.
Her voluptuous backside bathed in the golden glow of the flames looked like an oil painting brilliantly depicted by one of the great Masters, and sitting down I began smoothing my hand over its soft skin.
“So, Helen, you're to be punished already. Taking a peek when you were told not to, tsk tsk,” I scolded, “but because you owned up your spanking won’t be as hard as it could be, though it did take some pressure for you to admit your wrongdoing, so that has to be taken into account.”
“Yes, Sir,” she muttered.
“Sir, that’s good. Look how easily that slipped out. You have a beautiful backside. It’s made for spanking, and you’d better behave whenever we’re together because I won’t hesitate to turn you over my knee.”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll try.”
My palm had been caressing and squeezing, and I let it fly, whisking at the crease, the sensitive sit spot where she’d feel it the most.
“OW, that hurts.”
“As I continue,” I said, landing another on the opposite side, “if you ask me to stop, or protest, or throw your hands behind you, I’ll have to fetch my slipper from the hall closet, and trust me, you’d rather I not do that.”
“Ooh, Sir, you're so strict.”
“Yes, Helen, I am strict,” I replied smacking again, “and now I’m going to ignore your yelps. You may howl as much as you wish, but remember my warning.”
Leaning forward I began spanking in earnest, covering the width and breath of her comely cheeks, increasing the tempo and force as the minutes ticked by. Her gasps and moans were left unheeded as I continued, but she didn’t give me cause to fetch my slipper, and when her skin was somewhere between pink and crimson I stopped.
“Do you think you’ll peek again?”
“No, Sir,” she whimpered.
“Will you answer honestly the first time from now on?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I also spanked you because you didn’t just need it, you wanted it. Perhaps not quite as hard, but you did want it, correct?”
“Yes, Sir, definitely not quite as hard, but yes, Sir.’
Reaching between her legs I found a river of hunger, and my cock, already standing at attention, demanded to go swimming.
“Stay as you are, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Moving quickly into the guest room I retrieved a condom from the nightstand, and reminiscent of John Cleese in any number of hilarious stripping scenes, I attempted to remove my clothes as I hurried back to her; thanking the D/s Gods for blindfolds I fell back on the couch.
“You’re going to straddle me and sit on my cock,” I said firmly (though slightly out of breath) and slipped the wetsuit in place.
It took me a minute to help her up and position over my lap, then clutching her hot cheeks I guided her on to my eager member. She sighed heavily as she sank down, then let out a long, deep moan. Her ample bust was still covered by the lacy corset cups, and taking hold of the slender spaghetti straps across her shoulders, I slid them down.
The cups fell away, her breasts were revealed, and I feasted my eyes on the large areola surrounding an impressive puckered nipple. Selecting the right rosebud first I lowered my lips, nibbling and sucking, then moving my hands to her waist I began moving her up and down, making it clear she was to fuck me.
It was a glorious ride; my mouth staying locked on one of her tits through the entire dance, and when she let loose, wailing into her orgasm, my cock fired into her cunt with an outstanding release.
Regretfully my limp, spent member finally slipped from her depths, and pulling off her blindfold I let her fall on to the couch. She was panting, her chest was rising and falling, and leaning my head back I took a few minutes to catch my breath. When I recovered I opened my eyes and stared down at her; she looked completely content, her eyes were closed, and she was wearing a small smile.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“Better than okay,” she murmured fluttering her eyelids open. “Wow, James, that was exactly as I imagined it would be.”
Again that fleeting, uncomfortable something touched me, but I was still unable to identify it. Shaking it off I smiled down at her. Helen was passionate, submissive, and delightful company. What more could I ask for?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Less Than Perfect
Helen seemed like a happy girl. She was quick to laugh, generally had an optimistic view of things, and her smile was contagious. She was also a terrific cook, and as the weeks had passed we’d fallen into a habit.
On Saturday night she would cook at my house, and on Sunday I would go to her place. The meals were always wonderfully exotic, and invariably during the evening she’d make a comment about having a fantasy; I’d coax it out of her, then turn it into reality, but as time ticked by a pattern emerged, and it was one I was none too happy with.
She’d claim her fantasy was extremely difficult for her to reveal, and initially I had harbored expectations of something taboo, something dark, something that would give me pause, but each fantasy was the same as the one before, with some part of it slightly changed, and it always ended with her over my lap.
The two fun days had become predictable, and I found myself increasingly disturbed by the strange consistency of her behavior.
In my professional life I’m as reliable as the rain in December, and that dependability has greatly contributed to my success, but as a Dominant predictably is my nemesis, and besides the fact that falling into any kind of sexual routine is against my nature, there was something odd about this ongoing pattern.
> Standing in my kitchen watching her stir a bubbling pot, I wondered how I’d been drawn into her repetitive domestic regimen and what the hell I could to do about it. Much to my relief my cell phone rang, and grateful for the distraction I pulled it from my pocket; it was a close friend I’d not seen for a while. His name was Geoff, he was also a Dominant, and married to a charming woman named Melody.
“Geoff, great to hear from you.”
“Where have you been? We haven’t seen you for ages.”
“Busy time at the office, and my weekends have been spoken for.”
“Why don’t you swing by the club tomorrow night, bring your spoken for with you?” he suggested. “We can have dinner, and if the spirit moves us take a wander upstairs.”
“Geoff, yes, definitely. I’d love to go to the club. You’re right, it’s been too long. I’ll see you there around 7:30 p.m. Is that convenient?”
“You bet. I’ll meet you in the main dining room.”
“Thanks for ringing, I’m really looking forward to this.”
And I was. As thoughts of the club filled my head I realized just how much I missed it, and couldn’t understand how I’d stay away for so long. Looking across at Helen to give her the news I saw she’d caught the gist of the call, and was staring at me expectantly.
“Tomorrow night, the club,” I declared. “Geoff and Melody, very good friends of mine. We’re meeting them there for dinner.”
“Uh, but I’ve already got everything planned for my place tomorrow,” she frowned. “I’m making chicken with-”
“I haven’t been to the club in weeks, in fact we’ve not been anywhere since we met. It’s time to start getting out.”
“But isn’t it cozy, just the two of us?” she said wistfully, “and you’re out with your business friends during the week. Isn’t it nice to stay home and have real food, instead of that restaurant crap?”
“I’m not sure I’d classify the food in the restaurants I frequent as crap, Helen, and cozy is fine, but a steady diet of anything isn’t-”
“Wait,” she said sharply, “are you saying you don’t want to do this anymore?”
Her knee-jerk reaction startled me, and sensing the conversation could take a dramatic turn for the worse I didn’t respond.
“I thought you liked our weekends as they are,” she continued, becoming more upset. “Don’t you like my cooking anymore? You always say how much you enjoy the meals I prepare for us. I don’t get this.”
“It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s that…as I was saying,” I frowned, speaking slowly, “a steady diet of the same thing is…let’s just say it can be counterproductive. I thought you liked the club, we did meet there. I’m not sure I understand this resistance or why you’re becoming so upset. For goodness sake, it’s just one night. Is it because we’ll be with people you don’t know?”
“Not at all, and you’re probably right,” she sighed, suddenly and strangely calming down. “I guess I’m just too much of a homebody. Personally I’m very happy, but if you’re not-”
“It’s not that I’m unhappy, Helen,” I interrupted, “but the spontaneity between us, it’s fading, things are becoming too routine, too predictable.”
“You think?” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “Okay, so then we should definitely go. You’re right, it’ll be fun, I’ll pull out my scarlet corset and be really racy.”
“Now that’s a good idea,” I smiled. “Red and racy.”
“That’s me,” she giggled, “at least it is when you’re done with me.”
As she continued making dinner the doubt that had been lurking in my mind since our first night together raised its head. Far from a shadow, it was now bright and shining, and though I’m not one to pry, as I watched Helen stir whatever it was she had on the stove I realized I didn’t know very much about her.
The flat she lived in was a notch above the norm, she was apparently successful in her work, some kind of middle-management position for a national engineering consulting firm, but outside of those superficial bits of information she’d talked very little about herself.
As she ladled the meal on to the dishes, and pulled out the bread she had heating in the oven, I walked across to help her carry the plates into the dining room.
“You never told me where you learned to cook like this,” I said casually.
“I wanted to be a chef and have my own restaurant, so I went through several courses,” she answered, “but the mountain was too high to climb, so now I just do it for fun.”
We settled down at the table, and as I’d come to expect the food was outstanding.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been snapped up. I know some men who would kill to come home to this every night,” I grinned. “Have you had any long romances you’d like to tell me about?”
“I guess it takes more than a good meal,” she sighed. “Tell me about Geoff and Melody. I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
It was a clumsy change of subject, but I played along and told her a little about my longtime friends. When we finished eating we carried the dishes into the kitchen, then giggling, she turned the water on over the sink, dropped her fingers under the tap and flicked it at me.
It was an attempt at a spontaneous cheeky gesture, similar to past nights when she would do something provocative to get the appropriate response. I would grab the nearest wooden spoon and smack her, or take hold of her wrists, pin her against the wall and devour her, but as much as I tried to summon the expected reaction, it simply wasn’t there.
“Hey,” I said softly, moving towards her, “tonight I’m taking you to bed and making love to you, normal, vanilla love, no blindfolds, no ropes, just warm, sensual sex.”
“Sure, James, that sounds heavenly,” she smiled, but as she turned away to put the dishes in the sink I knew she was lying.
A short time later we were in bed hugging under the covers, and I kissed her, lingering my lips against hers as I traveled my hands over her luscious body, but when she kissed me back it was halfhearted.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“No, not really,” she sighed.
“What does, no, not really, mean?”
“I just feel a bit out of sorts. Tonight wasn’t exactly perfect.”
“Not every night can be perfect.”
“All the nights before this one were,” she said pointedly.
Not sure what she wanted me to say, I moved my lips to her ear.
“But the night isn’t over yet,” I murmured.
“James, I have a confession to make.”
I lifted my head and studied her face; she was sporting a heavy, worried frown.
“And what’s that?”
“Earlier today, when I was at the mall…” she began, then paused, and shaking her head she looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
“When you were at the mall…go on, when you were at the mall…?”
“I was very bad,” she grimaced. “I promised I’d tell you if…the thing is…I bought a packet of cigarettes.”
I was shocked by her admission. When we’d first starting going out she’d been very proud of the fact that she’d quit smoking, and asked me to spank her if she ever weakened, or was even tempted to smoke again.
“Why? Did you smoke them?”
“It’s this new report I have to prepare next week,” she groaned, “it’s been weighing on my mind and I’ve been stressing. I did open the pack and pull one out, but I changed my mind and threw it away, then a minute later I threw away the whole stupid thing.”
“I see, well, that’s good, but…”
“I’m sure that’s why I was edgy earlier tonight, and I’m sorry.”
She was staring at me intently, her eyes wide, and I knew she expected me to take her in hand, to punish her as I promised I would if she succumbed to temptation.
“I think I have just the thing to make sure that doesn’t happen again,” I declared, and moving from the bed I headed i
nto my closet.
I simply wasn’t in the frame of mind to deliver a long, drawn-out spanking, but I had something that I believed would serve just as well, perhaps even better; opening my locked bag of tricks I retrieved the gummy whip. I’d only used it a couple of times since buying it in Paris, and each time the reaction had been one of shocked surprise; it stung.
“I understand the addiction of smoking, Helen,” I said sternly as I moved towards the bed, “and you should be very proud that you’ve succeeded so far, I’m certainly proud of you, but I take my promise to help you very seriously.”
“Thank you, James,” she whispered staring up at me.
“This,” I declared, pulling the whip from behind my back, “is a behavior modification device second to none.”
“Uh, can’t you just spank me?” she bleated. “A good spanking will work.”
“You will not dictate how I punish you,” I said sharply. “Real punishment hasn’t been a part of our relationship, but now it’s warranted.”
“But, um…”
“Don’t try to wriggle out of this, Helen. I made you a promise and it’s one I intend to keep. A couple of flicks with this and I you’ll think twice before throwing away your money on another packet of those disgusting things. Get on your knees, head on the mattress, hands locked behind your neck. This won’t take long.”
I could see the fear in her eyes as she slowly moved into position. This was our first foray into discipline, and though I was sorry she’d been so stressed, I was grateful for the unexpected break in the weekend routine. Standing at the side of the bed I laid the small whip against her right cheek.
“Two on each side, then you’ll stay in position until I tell you to move, understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she quivered.
Having learned that the gummy whip needs little force to make its impact, I raised it a short distance from her cheek, then dispatched the two strikes in quick succession, the second slightly below the first. She howled into the pillow, then jumped up and furiously rubbed at the red stripes.
“Fuck, that hurts, fuck, fuck.”
I was about to reprimand her but thought better of it, and moving to the opposite side of the bed I waited for her to compose herself and bend back down, but she was taking too long.
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