“Oh, my god,” she instantly responds with feet dancing. I never cheat on an initial strike, and pause only long enough see the color of her bottom begin rise.
“I am not deterred by a submissive’s gyrating behind, Ms. Cates. Keep this up, and it will be a harrowing half hour—the results will last days, not hours.” Reprimanded, Kirsten’s poise returns, even though I still detect her thighs trembling.
Returning to my mission, I begin again, this time smacking the paddle at a more measured clip. She manages to withstand the paddle with a few “ooos” and “ouches”, her feet, at first, idle. Though, as the pain gets more intense, I lay it on harder, and she begins a writhing tango that’s delightful to watch. I make certain to modulate the smacks so she remains at this frenetically nasty in-between—not too painful, but not too sweet. She has no idea what to do with the rising burn, the sting, her tears, the anger, and a mix of emotions she’d probably never felt before. There is no answer for what’s happening to her now, except the one that will surface once she puts some hours between the act and the aftermath. For women like Kirsten the answers always come clear as the sensations flood their lovely bodies with satisfaction. Even the humiliation arouses them—I learned that from Billy, and from Hope.
Kirsten’s ass is hot, now jumping lively before me, as I slow the pace. The last of the paddling is just one smarting smack on top of the last. She jerks miserably with each—the dear girl now cognizant of everything thing around her. Every time the paddle strikes increases the humiliation, as she sees the attentive eyes relishing her misery. Ah, she’s a luscious sight with her bountiful derriere gleaming red!
When I finally stop, I turn to Billy, asking for the cane—doesn’t seem right to deprive her of a righteous finish. I fully expect that Billy will do the honors himself. She might even like that kind of justice, but instead, he hands the shiny bamboo to me.
Whisking the dreadful thing through the air once, it sizzles ominously as it finds no target, though Kirsten’s ass tenses in anticipation.
“Six,” Billy says almost as though this is an afterthought, then he strolls to the back of the room, with Kirsten looking both pitiful and angry. Her master seems to have lost interest. Taking my place again, I snap the cane dead center on Kirsten’s blushing skin.
“Yeeeeeeawwww!” she shrieks, twists frantically, then falls to the floor. “No, no, please…” her voice sounds grievously tragic.
“Get up!” Billy barks at her with such a contemptible edge to his voice, I almost wince myself.
The wounded young woman hedges a minute as the tension in the air increases. “Perhaps, it’s harder with me here,” Billy suggests as he sees her hesitate. She peers back at him soulfully, and before she can reply, he exits the room.
What Billy doesn’t see now is the mournful woman crying penitently, struggling to rise, and getting on her feet, bend over to endure the last of the caning. Though I have some pity on her, I take no pity on her ass. I know Billy wouldn’t call for it, and neither would she.
Flicking her skirt off her bottom again, she presents me with her fleshy red bull’s-eye and I rip off three quick cuts of the bamboo, listening to the accompanying shrieks each time it lands. All eyes can see how she shudders, suspecting that in the most base part of her being, she takes some pleasure in this, even though it’s difficult now to understand that fact.
Wanting the last two cuts to count, I take some time with each. As I take aim, slicing the cane briskly through the stifling air, these two land hard with a bite that should last. She’s sobbing as I finish, her poor ass blotchy and streaked. And there, on the center of her punished behind, three distinct welts rise above the mass of red.
“I suspect that Billy would like you in your room now,” I tell her with just a small degree of kindness creeping back in my voice.
For a few seconds, she doesn’t move. And not a soul in the room stirs. When the subdued young woman finally rises to her feet, she grabs for her fallen panties and quickly exits the room. Kirsten flees so quickly she doesn’t have time to greet any of the faces that witnessed her plight—not mine, nor Hope’s, nor Billy’s as he waits in the main room of the suite—and especially not Tony Flynn’s, whose I can see some distance away, as I move out of the anteroom.
As Kirsten’s witnesses rejoin the others, Flynn takes off in her direction, though Billy accosts him just beyond the door, out of earshot of the crowd.
“Perhaps, you realize now what you’re playing with, Flynn?” he states.
“You’re a brutal man,” Flynn’s replies.
“I gave her a choice. I don’t expect you to understand what we have between us. But I suggest you not get in the way again.”
He shakes his head, unable to reply and darts out of the room as though he still plans to find her. I’m sure he won’t. She’ll be in her room by now and won’t let him in.
There’s just Billy, Hope and me in our little group by the door. The rest of the guests in the suite have moved on from the scene—no doubt deciding if this one was as good as the last such punishment they were lucky enough to observe. By all measures I’m acquainted with, it should have been very satisfying… even if it was a little testy. Though not knowing how it will end just makes it all the more exciting,
“If it’s all right with you, Derek,” Billy whispers quietly, “perhaps Hope would go see how Kirsten’s doing.” He fishes through his pocket for the key to their room.
“That’s fine with me,” I say, pushing my wife off my arm. “Give her the full treatment, pet,” I tell her with a satisfied smile. I’m in such a deliciously lovely mood, I’ll give Kirsten to Hope as a present—she’s hardly earned it, but it will make her all the more willing to please me later. As for Kirsten, this evening of firsts has hardly ended. My wife, with her jar of scented cream, has secrets in her hands the disconsolate young woman will surely find soothing.
Chapter Six
Hope
Kirsten’s a little startled to see me as I peer into the bedroom of the suite she shares with Billy. From where she lies on the bed, I can tell she’s been crying. She rises slightly, trying to collect herself.
“Don’t get up,” I tell her, approaching her tentatively. “Just lie back, I have something for you.” She gazes up at me wonderingly, two molten eyes almost assault me with the animal fire I see within them. I know where she is now. I remember the feeling well … all the wild ponies in her stable of emotions are pawing and snorting, longing to get free. “On your tummy,” I give her just a gentle order—she’s had such terribly hard ones to follow so far this night. Now’s the time for tenderness—and I can think of nothing I’d rather do than soothe the broken skin and the injured heart of a newly initiated submissive.
She wonders what I want, but doesn’t say a word as she follows my instruction. Once I sit on the bed beside her with my special elixir in hand she understands.
Kirsten’s still wearing her cocktail dress. Lying belly down, I have to raise her skirt to get to the object of my intentions. Oh, what I find is beautiful! Her blushing buns retain some of their once vibrant color, but it’s not surprising that much has faded, leaving just remnants for me to treat.
“They were hard on you, weren’t they?” I speak softly as I bathe my hand in the soft substance, and then slather the cream on her punished cheeks. The heat from them is divine and has me quickly aroused. I see Kirsten’s aroused too, grinding her pubis into the sheets beneath her. “First times are always tough. You really don’t know what to do. How to act.” I’m babbling on, hoping she’ll give me some reply. I can sense that underneath it all, she’s angry.
“I hate him,” she finally spits out, turning so I can see her irritable expression. I push her back down.
“I know, I’ve hated Derek on more than one occasion.”
“How could he be so horrible to do that in front of all those people?”
“It’s deplorable, I know. But perhaps it’s better that your secrets are out in the open.”
“Out in the open!” she starts up again, throwing my hand off her ass.
“Lie down,” I tell her firmly.
“He had no right! The bastard! I don’t want to lay eyes on him again!”
“Of course you don’t right now. But you will.”
“Never!” she swears, though I already detect she’s softening. After all, the feel of my palm tenderly running its way about her flesh feels like bliss—I know, I’ve been in her position before, with an experienced slave wife taking care of my raw ass and miserable fussing. I was close to leaving Derek the first night he humiliated me in front of a crowd, but Jerilyn made all the difference between the biggest mistake of my life and the life I lead now. Kirsten will see that too, in time.
“I know how you feel …” my hand moves to her thighs, broadening the massage. Pulling her dress with my free hand, she lifts herself off the bed so I can get it off completely.
She’s inspired—even trying to remove the garter belt herself.
“Let me,” I interrupt as my hands take the place of hers at her waist.
“I’m not going to stay,” she vows. “Everyone saw, and everyone that didn’t see, heard. I can’t face them again! The way they’ll stare. I can’t imagine what they’re whispering about me.” She sighs. “I never thought …”
“Never thought what? That Billy would set you up like this? Of course you did,” I object. “You can’t tell me that you haven’t marveled at that sort of scene in your dreams. And think of it … those that saw, and those that didn’t see, but heard, they know the truth about you now and are in awe of this choice you’ve made. The women who have the guts to admit it, admire you. And the men are so in lust with a woman that is so willing, you leave them green with envy for Billy.”
“That’s stupid logic!” she snaps. Kirsten doesn’t see my point, but even though she disagrees, she’s no longer rising off the bed. The feel of my hand is much too stirring… and her sexual heat is so quickly on the rise, I feel a wave through my body as well. I want more of her, her breasts, her lips, the sloping valley of her belly and that mound she tucks out of sight. For now, I continue with her backside, beginning to caress that flesh more firmly. I take special time to draw a nail along the lines my husband left on her blooming ass, and she quakes in tremors. Her flesh looks as though its shivering the way trees shiver in the wind. As tears form in her eyes, I feel the sweep of her emotions hit me like bricks. With this heavy, mournful passionate surge from her, I can’t hold back an instant more. Snuggling into the fragrance of her body, my arms go around her and my lips meet her lips. She’s suddenly obsessed, and her frenzied movements have me as snared in her embrace as she is in mine.
Exploring bodies, our hands rove over the sensuous cushions of flesh, teasing nipples that tighten into hard knots. Hers are large, mine dwarfed by her bold ones. As our faces move between these succulent mounds we breathe deeply of our womanliness, exalted by the freedom we feel in each other. We come back time and again to kiss—to peck, to suck, to lick lips that speak in a feminine voice. We find passion in our similarity.
I savor the experience of her skin, taste the sweetness, inhale the redolent perfume, and her hear her body breathing as sweetly as a melody. If I could only drink her in …
As Kirsten responds to my touch, my hands move down to her heated thighs where our pussies rise and fall against each other. She presses into me, and I into her, with these little slivers of skin we call our clits rubbing together in an impatient rhythm, hurrying to complete the pleasure we’ve begun.
Yet, as I grab for her ass, and run my hand along those ticklish cuts from Derek’s cane, we’re sidetracked for a moment. She knows what’s real when I play with this tender skin. She can’t hide this lust from me because I know its source. We are so alike in our desires. Now, as I play with these swollen lines on her ass, she bucks and coos and flinches as though she awaits another strike of the paddle or bamboo. But quickly, we’re pushed over the edge, tearing down that perfect pathway. She reaches hers first, and for just a minute I go down on her clit with my tongue, looking up with my eyes to see her writhing naughtily—lost somewhere I can only guess. I listen to the purring, and the grinding moans of release and feel her cunt splash its juice on my cheek, so warmly wet—it tastes of a power somewhat bitter but laced with satisfaction. As she restores herself, she’s climbing on me, torridly returning the favor I just gave her. Her tongue laps my slit, her lips suck sharply at the end, then her fingers drive into the hole, till I clench down hard, and fall back thrashing my pussy against her face.
I soothe her ass more in the twilight of our sex, as we stroke each other in this fragile silence. I think we’re both afraid to speak. She’s certainly afraid what her passions say about her needs. She’s no longer angry, at least not that I can see. Billy should be happy.
Still, I feel some question in her mind, a disquiet I cannot put my finger on. I think there’ll be a lot more to her training than just these opening nights.
Sometimes I wish it was Billy Fitzgerald conquering me. Derek loves me as much as he can, but Billy holds this one’s delicate heart and soul with care, and I can only guess the depths of his feeling. Perhaps, I’m just daydreaming that he’s the better master. But I do see deeper dreams for Kirsten, an intimacy to be gained that I long for and rarely experience.
I stand to dress, looking at myself in the full length mirror. My skin seems flushed. It’s still heated. I could go to her and start over again as she lies back dreamily in her bed with her hand at her crotch softly toying with the wet folds of skin.
“Here, I think I should do this one more time,” I say, descending on her. I give her ass another rubdown with my herbal healing cream. I’m sure it’s not necessary, but this gives me another chance to feel her femininity and experience that special tenderness only a woman can give to another. I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again.
Before I can finish the door opens.
“You’ve had enough time,” Billy announces with a voice uncommonly terse invading our solitude.
I feel Kirsten flinch and just the tiniest bit of anger rise up to meet the sound of him. She’s staring in the opposite direction. Surely Billy has no clue how she feels—then again, he probably does. He knows everything.
Slipping out the door, I leave the two lovers to repair the rest of the damage. I’ve done all I could to her poor punished ass.
Kirsten
“You’re still angry,” Billy says. I feel his hand on my ass—it’s not as soft as Hope’s, and it defies the gentleness she’s brought me, squeezing my roughed bottom like it’s so much meat. Still, I need him here with me. My heart beats more rapidly, remembering that he’s the author my sexual awakening and it is to him I own my last unimaginable two hours. I wish he’d take me in his arms, but so far, all he can do is torment my behind while I stare at the wall craving his affection. Yes, I’m still angry.
“Let me see your face,” he says.
I reluctantly turn my head, knowing this is a command I don’t dare reject.
“Now that you understand the pain and the pleasure of humiliation, tell me how it was for you.”
I bristle enough so that he notices. “I told Hope that I hated you and that I want to leave. That you’re a bastard.”
“A bastard now,” he stops short of mocking me.
“That’s exactly how I felt.”
“But now you feel differently,” he says.
“Maybe. But I don’t like this Billy. You know me too well.”
He smirks as his devilish eyes begin to mock me.
“It’s all part of being trained, my sweet slave. And since you hate it so much you can be sure I’ll double my efforts to see you have more embarrassment to relish.”
“No, Billy.” I am pleading now. Crawling into his lap, I finally feel some tenderness from his arms.
“Ah, then, it would help to watch your lust. You might guard those secret passions more closely. I told yo
u, I am a jealous man.”
Yes, of course. He’s jealous of my silly conversations with the filmmaker. “Did Tony hear me getting punished?” I’m not sure why this matters to me, except that I know his being there makes my humiliation complete.
“He was there when I left the anteroom,” Billy answers. “I assume he heard as much as anyone else. And judging by his outrage, he found the scene reprehensible. I told him to leave you alone, Kirsten. And you, my love,” he pulls my burrowed chin out of his chest so he can see my eyes, “you don’t need to spend your time worrying about what other people think of you and who you are. If you could walk your submissive road proudly, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. As it is, you’ll be punishing yourself more than necessary.”
“Then this is part of my training?” I conclude.
“That’s exactly what I said. Remember, you are mine to control, to do with as I please. You disobey me and the reprisals will be swift and cruel. It’s my intention to drive out anything that would come between us sharing our love the way we enjoy. Frankly, if you weren’t so torn up about it, I wouldn’t mind you making love to your photographer friend. It might be my pleasure to let you have him. But this association with him could tear you apart right now. And that, I won’t allow.
Chapter Seven
On the train to Paris, I have more embarrassment to suffer. Billy delights in showing me off to whoever he can engage in sexually charged conversations. I’m learning to become more compliant, and most of all to give up my anger in favor of experiencing the thrill of being his sex toy. It’s best if I submerge myself in him, focus solely on my fiancé. My paradox. I give up my rights to feel anything of my own, and my body responds with joy raining like a torrential summer downpour. I learn this discipline a step at a time. It’s not easy and I stumble more than I’d like. My anger soars, but once I’m corrected for my failure, my submissive feelings return more abundant than ever. There, I have my greatest satisfaction.
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