Over the Knee

by Ashe Barker, Lily Harlem, Katy Swann, Wendi Zwaduk, Lucy Felthouse, Dolly Watt

  “Today,” said Leo, continuing with his enthusiastic thrashing, “I’m going to claim total ownership of this arse, Miss Willoughby. What do you say to that?”

  “Thank you, Sir,” bleated Emma through ragged cries.

  Leo paused, panting for breath, his stomach rising and falling, the bulge of his stiff cock nudging into Emma’s side. “Total ownership. Inside and out. Have you ever taken a cock in your tightest hole, Miss Willoughby?”

  “No, Sir,” breathed Emma, passionately excited by the idea but also terrified.

  “And are you going to grant me the privilege of being your first?”

  “I… I don’t know, Sir,” stuttered Emma.

  Leo allowed his hand to roam over Emma’s heated flesh, his touch gentle and soothing. “Trust me,” he said in a low, steady tone. “I won’t ever do anything you don’t want. And you have your safeword, remember?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I-I’m not sure,” stuttered Emma. “I want to, Sir, but…”

  “I want you to trust me too,” said Leo. He leaned toward Emma and cupped her head in his hand, guiding her so she had to twist in his lap to look up at him. His blue-gray eyes gazed down at her, his strong, rugged face framed with dark, tousled hair. “And I want to trust you too,” he said tenderly. “If we’re to enjoy this together, trust must be mutual. You need to trust me not to push you too far. And I need to trust you to let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable, or if you want me to slow down or even stop completely. Will you promise me you’ll do that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve been spanking women for several years, and while I’m adept at picking up on cues, I’m not actually telepathic.”

  “No, Sir,” said Emma. “Of course not.”

  “Dominance and submission,” said Leo, his voice growing gentle again, “is a beautiful dance whose steps are made of trust. And we take every step together.” His eyes roamed over Emma’s face and he tucked loose strands of hair behind an ear before leaning in to print a kiss on her lips. “I think this dance could be a long one, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “It’s rather disconcerting. Come on, let’s go to the library and see how we get along. I have a surprise for you. Stand up.”

  Emma eased herself off Leo’s lap, pushing down her wrinkled skirt as she stood.

  “No.” Leo rose abruptly and clasped Emma by the wrist, smiling. “Keep your skirt held high so I can feast my eyes on that delectable, pink bum.”

  “But, Sir—” began Emma, glancing nervously around.

  “I’ve given everyone the day off,” said Leo, “so don’t worry. You’re for my eyes only. Now come on. Stand up proudly and continue. You remember the way, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Emma, straightening and fighting the impulse to restore her hair and clothes to order.

  “Good. Then lead the way with your arse on display. Let me admire my handiwork.”

  Emma carried on climbing the stairs, holding her bunched-up skirt around her waist although it was tight enough to stay there itself.

  “You’re a beautiful shade of crimson,” said Leo, following her. “I can even make out my handprints and fingerprints. Isn’t that a wonderful notion? My hands have left their imprint on your skin, as if I’m still touching you. As if your body carries its memories of me.”

  “It’s wonderful, Sir, yes,” said Emma, and she truly meant it.

  Retracing her steps from the previous day, Emma turned right at the top of the stairs and walked along the corridor. She felt as if all the eyes in the gilt-framed portraits along the wall were leering at her, watching the sway of her naked, blushing rear as she strode past them, defiantly sluttish in her heels and stockings, her hair messy and her clothes crumpled. Leo followed, passing occasional compliments on both her bottom and her submissive obedience.

  At the library, Leo took a couple of quick steps to open the heavy oak door for her like a gentleman. Emma stepped in, wondering what the surprise might be. She glanced around, seeing nothing that she hadn’t spotted yesterday. Again, a fire was flickering in the hearth and the octagonal, book-lined room was neat and calm. Hard to believe it had been the scene of numerous ecstatic, rowdy spankings across the years.

  Emma headed toward the desk, imagining Leo would want her bent over it as he had done yesterday. Leo, however, evidently had other ideas. He caught up with her and pulled her close, clasping her tight as he covered her lips with his, smothering her with hot, urgent kisses. Emma began to melt, overwhelmed by the myriad sensations Leo ignited in her. She wanted to be punished, to be adored, to be mistreated, to be treasured. And with Leo, it felt as if these contradictory longings could intertwine. Like the harmony of pleasure and pain, of salt and sweet, Leo’s domineering cruelty was inseparable from an attentive tenderness. The heady mix made Emma weak at the knees. She wanted to be his.

  When Leo broke away from the kiss, he held Emma tight, his eyes locked on hers.

  “Miss Willoughby,” he said. “You’re really something special. I haven’t felt this…this moved by a woman since…well, since forever.”

  Emma gazed back at him, wondering if they might fall in love.

  “I’m not entirely sure I like it,” said Leo. “I value my independence and you threaten to destabilize it.”

  “I value my independence too,” said Emma stiffly. “It might surprise you but men don’t have the monopoly on wanting personal freedom.”

  Leo chuckled. “And that feisty attitude is why I’m becoming rather fond of you.”

  Emma raised her chin. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” She paused before adding, a touch sardonically, “Sir.”

  “Of that I don’t doubt,” said Leo. “Is it wise of me to trust you?”

  Emma’s anxieties about the impossible library deal resurfaced. “Um, well, it depends,” she faltered.

  Leo strode away toward one of the narrow, book-lined walls. “Too late, I’m trusting you,” he said, reaching for one of the books.

  A squeaky groan rang out, and the wall, along with all the books, shuddered. Emma gasped as the wall of shelves turned on a central axis, sliding around to reveal a hidden room, like something from a James Bond movie.

  “Isn’t that the point of libraries and books?” said Leo, gesturing at the new space. “To allow us to find unimagined worlds? Well, here’s my world. Imagined.”

  Emma gawped, rooted to the spot, as Leo strode toward the clandestine room. On first impressions and from a distance, the room seemed not dissimilar to the library, an old, octagonal space gleaming with oak and carpeted in crimson. This room, however, was distinctly lacking in books. Emma edged closer, gaining in confidence when Leo ushered her forward and turned up the lights. She stood at the entrance, stunned, taking in the sight of the high, windowless room whose dark, polished walls were hung with all manner of crops, canes, whips and paddles. Brass sconces on the wall held pearlized lanterns containing dancing candle flames. At the head of the room stood a sumptuous bed, draped in crimson and gold, while dotted here and there were odd, austere contraptions made of wood and leather. Clearly, they were designed to accommodate someone bent over for a spanking but their resemblance to medieval implements of torture sent nervous excitement streaming through Emma’s veins.

  “Very few people know of its existence,” said Leo. “So I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. I’d hate the press to get hold of it. The tabloids always leap at the chance to expose sex scandals among the aristocracy. I doubt they could run an exposé on my dusty old books but they’d have a field day if they thought my lifestyle was out of the ordinary for an earl.”

  “My lips are sealed,” murmured Emma, still trying to absorb the sight of so much weird, kinky equipment.

  “Don’t seal them too tightly,” said Leo, crossing to her. “I rather like what they may be able to accomplish when open.”

&nbs
p; Emma thought the earl was about to embrace her, but instead, he took her by the hips and twisted her around so he could inspect her spanked buttocks. “But before that,” he said, stroking her bruised cheeks, “I want to ensure this arse belongs to me, and me alone. Come here, Miss Willoughby.”

  Emma followed him to a contraption with two padded leather tiers, one at waist height, the second at knee height and formed of two padded planks. The object could have no other function except to position someone for punishment and humiliation. The upper body would rest across the highest tier, and the kneeling victim would place their bent legs along the cushioned planks.

  “Is this Victorian?” asked Emma.

  “Replica,” replied Leo. “I had it all made to my specifications. I wanted a room adjoining the library that echoed the themes and esthetics of my great-great-grandfather’s books. Why don’t you remove all your clothes, Emma? Make yourself comfortable.”

  The intimacy of him using her first name gave Emma a delicious thrill. She smiled, trying to conceal her nerves. “With pleasure.”

  Leo watched as she disrobed and hung her clothes on a nearby piece of equipment. When she was naked, Leo imperiously spun an upright finger, indicating she should show him her nakedness by turning a full circle. Emma did so, conscious of how pink and raw her bottom had to look against the paleness of her nudity.

  “Perfect, except for one thing,” said Leo.

  “Oh?” asked Emma, crestfallen.

  “You keep forgetting to call me ‘Sir’.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” Emma babbled. “Sorry, Leo. I mean, Sir. So sorry.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Confused, Emma frowned at him until the penny dropped. “Ah,” she said, a grin breaking across her face. “It means you’re going to punish me. You’re going to teach me a lesson so I won’t forget to show you appropriate respect in future. Sir.”

  “Precisely. Now hop to it and bend over that,” said Leo, gesturing to the tall, two-tiered bench. “Assume the position. I’m going to use a leather tawse on you. I’m confident you’re ready for it.”

  Feeling clumsy and awkward, Emma clambered onto the spanking bench, wishing she could retain her dignity while doing so. But it was impossible, and before long, she was bent face forward over the upper level while her open legs were balanced on the jutting planks, displaying her bare buttocks and pussy to maximum effect. She gripped the leather-covered handles jutting up at each side of the top part, half feeling as if she might be able to steer the device.

  “Good girl,” said Leo. “Now don’t be alarmed but I’m going to strap you in.”

  Emma whimpered, twisting around as Leo brought a leather strap over one ankle. He buckled the manacle in place, then repeated the action on her other leg. The sense of being trapped and secured made Emma’s heart and pussy thump with a hot, galloping pulse. Her moisture swelled further when Leo tugged another couple of tiny belts in place just above her calf muscles.

  “And finally,” said Leo. With that, he adjusted the front legs of the apparatus, turning a cog that tipped the top tier at an angle, leaving Emma’s upper body sloping downwards, her buttocks raised and vulnerable. Emma yelped in surprise as blood rushed to her head, heating her face. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the humiliating position she was trapped in. And yet, even as she fought the shame of being exhibited with her bottom upended, a dark, secretive part of her relished the debasement. She felt as if Leo understood this newly discovered part of her. He’d sought it out and now he wanted to nurture and celebrate it.

  Leo stood before her, an implement in his hand. “One of my favorite pieces,” he said, showing her a slender, brown leather paddle, split with two cuts to make three parallel straps. “Do you think you can take it?”

  Emma’s toes curled in anticipation, her body tensing. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try to take anything for you. I’ll take whatever punishment you think I deserve. Sir.”

  “That, Miss Willoughby, makes my cock extremely hard. Are you happy to take said cock in your arsehole? Once I’ve warmed you up, of course.”

  “I don’t know, Sir,” said Emma. “It scares me. I want to but—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be the perfect gentleman. But let’s see how you get along with the tawse before you commit to anything else. All I want is for you to enjoy yourself. I’m not going to pressure you to acquiesce to anything you’re uncertain about. I want you to love everything as much as I love it. Okay?”

  “Yes, Sir,” breathed Emma, already feeling won over by his reassuring words.

  “Now remember, the point of me disciplining you is to remind you to use the correct form of address for me.” Leo moved to stand by Emma’s strapped-in legs and raised buttocks. “Which is…?”

  The tawse cracked across Emma’s cheeks, striping her with fierce, hot pain.

  “Sir!” she yelled.

  “That’s right. And again.”

  Another sting of agony pasted Emma’s flesh.

  “Sir!”

  “I’m going to give you twelve lashes,” said Leo, “and I want to hear my honorific every time. Then after that, I’m going to fuck your cute little arse. Got that?”

  “Yes, Sir,” whimpered Emma.

  Leo brought the broad strap down onto her buttocks, delivering a sizzling blow across the center of her cheeks. Instinctively, Emma’s legs jerked against the restraining bands.

  “Sir!” she barked, uttering his title with the vehemence of an angry curse.

  Strokes four and five turned her flesh to fire, and Emma began to fear she might not be able to take Leo’s full punishment.

  “Sir!” she screamed as the sixth hit slammed across her raw, tender cheeks. She twisted around, raising her hand as if to stop Leo. She was barely conscious of her actions, driven as they were by a defensive response. The searing pain made her want to retaliate, to thump Leo back and bring a halt to proceedings. She looked at him, his dark hair ruffled from his exertions, his cheekbones mildly flushed, lantern-light gleaming on his skin. His expression, however, was cool and steely.

  “What are you doing?” he asked icily.

  “Sir,” whined Emma. “It hurts.”

  “It’s punishment. It’s meant to hurt. Now resume your position, slut.”

  Emma obeyed, knuckles turning white as she gripped the handles of the spanking bench with all her might. Already the pain was blossoming and the craving to be stung again surfaced, quelling the instinct to fight. If Emma thought the earl might take it easy on her after her little outburst, she was mistaken. Three more blasts of pain striped her bottom in rapid succession.

  “Sir! Sir! Sir!” she gasped, kicking her legs against her restraints.

  Leo paused. “Good girl. Well done, Emma. I knew you could take it.” He ran a cool, gentle hand over the soreness of her cheeks. “You have a very sensitive bottom. It turns a magnificent color in no time at all. I imagine the pain is excruciating. Is it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” murmured Emma.

  “Excellent. Now try to relax. Only three more to go. Are you ready?”

  Emma mumbled a tiny noise of non-commitment. She simultaneously wanted to taste the pain, and wanted it to be over. And yet, ‘over’ was a scary place because next, Leo intended to take her anal virginity. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

  “Miss Willoughby, are you ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The delay was unbearable, serving only to prolong the agony. “Yes, Sir,” cried Emma. “I’m ready! Please hit me, Sir. Teach me a lesson! I deserve everything I get, Sir.”

  “You do indeed, my sweet little whore. Ten!”

  Emma yowled loud enough to raise the dead as the leather fell on her flayed, tenderized flesh. Seconds passed as she panted for breath, fingers curled tight around the bench’s upright handles, before finally managing to whisper, “Sir.”

  She was rewarded with another thrash of the tawse, making the layer
s of pleasure and pain sizzle and simmer to ecstatic heights.

  “Sir!” she sobbed. “Sir.”

  “Good girl, almost there,” Leo said smoothly. “You’re doing very well.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  The final blow landed low on her buttocks, flames of blissful pain licking her skin and sinking deep into her battered behind. Emma cried out, writhing and jerking in her bonds as the heat spread. She felt a little spaced out and dreamy.

  “Sir,” she panted. “Sir.”

  Leo flung the tawse to the floor, where it landed on the thick carpet with a dull thud. Emma heard his rapid breath behind her then felt his soft lips on her scorched cheeks. He lay a trail of damp, featherlight kisses on her skin, every one a salve, before blowing streams of cool, comforting air over her burning pain. At length he stood, praising Emma for her forbearance.

  “Lesson learned, I assume?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” whispered Emma, feeling as if her entire body was turning to sweet, heavy honey.

  “And now, I want to ensure you understand that this beautiful bottom belongs to me. It’s mine to possess.”

  Emma listened to him unbuckle and unzip. She tried to remain still but, longing to see his body, she couldn’t resist turning to watch him undress. Listening wasn’t enough. She gazed at him through a fog of lust, her need for him escalating. His shirt was already off, baring a broad, muscular chest with dark hair furring his pecs, silvery lamplight glinting on his tanned skin. His belly was flat, shaped with a hint of abdominal definition, and when he pushed down his jeans, his erect cock sprang out, upright, confident and thick. Veins snaked below the surface of his shaft, and his bulbous ruby-dark tip glimmered with a jewel of clear liquid.

  Emma’s heart leaped, her pussy swelling with arousal, moisture spilling from her tingling lips. She ached to feel him inside her where she was wet with greed. Would he grant her that? Or was he intent only on penetrating her rear entrance? She feared her narrowness would never stretch to accommodate his girth and nervous excitement raced through her body.