Subculture

by Sarah Veitch

  Christ, Lisa thought, he knew which words would shame her. He also knew the same words could excite. The herbalist whimpered with growing eroticised appetite and fleshy frustration, and knew that she’d have to beg to be satisfied. ‘Please put your finger back,’ she whispered, squirming across his knees as he caressed her sore posterior.

  ‘Is that what you really want?’ he queried softly, palpating her rosy rump cheeks.

  ‘No, I want you,’ Lisa whispered raggedly, splaying apart her thighs the little she could across his suited knees.

  Michael’s voice was smooth as whipped cream. ‘What portion of me, exactly do you crave?’

  Her quim was shameless. Blushing, Lisa forced her voice to form the words. ‘I want your cock up me,’ she gasped.

  ‘I can tell you do,’ murmured the man. He ran a teasing finger round the outside of her vaginal space, rimming the nerve ends. Lisa cried out at the wonderful rush, her hips thrusting forward again and again. ‘But what did we say about the order of things?’ her boss continued, taking his knowing strong fingers away.

  ‘You said that... that I had to take the tawse before I could orgasm,’ Lisa whispered, her Venusian mount throbbing harder at the prospect.

  ‘I’m listening, sweetheart,’ the man replied.

  When his fingers did the walking, her clit did the talking. She’d say anything if it meant ultimate satisfaction. And a tiny part of her wondered how far he’d take her, how the lash of leather would feel against her skin.

  ‘Please use the tawse on me long and hard,’ Lisa half-groaned, hoping that afterwards he’d use his hands on her and his phallus up her.

  ‘If you insist,’ her boss answered, rolling her gently from his lap. ‘Wriggle into the middle of the bed,’ he continued, as she lay to one side of it, ‘and put one of those soft pillows under your tummy to push your rump up in the air.’

  ‘Thought this was a bedroom, not an obstacle course.’ Lisa shot back, but she did as she was told, desperate to have her body satisfied. Then she turned her head to one side to see what her almost-lover was doing next.

  Michael Landers had reached the various punishment implements hanging from the wall. He went into the cupboard below them and rifled through its contents. Then he brought out a brown leather strap. As he walked back towards Lisa, she could see that the implement was cut up the centre to form two equal-sized long tails.

  ‘This is the medium Lochgelly tawse, because I’ve been pleased with your work here,’ her boss said sweetly. ‘Let’s hope for your poor bum’s sake that I never have to apply the heavy version of the Lochgelly to those tender cheeks.’ He paused. ‘Of course, a really good girl would just get the smallest tawse, a mere twenty inches. It doesn’t sting nearly as much.’

  ‘I can take any of them,’ Lisa retorted, wriggling on the pillow which raised her hips. Her pelvis was so aroused that she doubted if it could register pain, only pleasure. She felt that she could take any punishment he cared to dole out.

  ‘Marie-Rose used to be late every morning until she tasted the heavy tawse,’ her employer said. ‘Since then she’s been impressively punctual.’

  ‘Probably just bought herself a better alarm clock,’ Lisa said.

  She buried her head in the remaining pillow as Michael Landers pulled back the tawse. He was kneeling on the bed to one side of her, which meant that the lash wasn’t coming from too high a distance. Nevertheless Lisa felt it make its strong imprint on her bum.

  ‘Lucky for you that I administered a hard spanking first - means your arse doesn’t feel the leather quite so keenly,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Hell, you’re a candidate for the sainthood,’ Lisa jeered. She turned her head in his direction, half-wanting him to lay on the tawse with firmer zeal, to mark each inch of her waiting buttocks. She wanted him to break through some inner barrier so that she could fully let go. ‘That the best you can do, doc?’ she muttered, a throaty challenge. ‘It tickles rather than stings.’

  She watched as his mouth parted in obvious surprise. Ah, so she could be an unknown quantity too - he wasn’t fully controlling the situation.

  ‘I usually give the first three strokes lightly, then show no mercy with the other seven,’ Michael said. He ran the implement teasingly over her glowing rump. ‘But if you insist on nine harder lashes, then that’s what you’ll get.’

  Lisa turned her head to the pillow again as he raised the two-tailed tawse. She didn’t want to see it coming down on her defenceless bottom. Now that the moment was near, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to feel its focused lash. What on earth had made her ask for a harder thrashing? She cried out as the twin tails bit into her waiting flesh. The punisher fell halfway down her bum, reddening both buttocks simultaneously. This second stroke had been twice as hard as the first.

  Before she could protest, Michael laid on the third stroke then the fourth and fifth. Lisa gasped again, and shook her hips from side to side as her belly scraped against the bolster. Her haunches felt as if they were on fire.

  ‘Stop,’ she muttered.

  ‘I was just about to,’ Michael said, setting down the implement and starting to palm her tender contours. ‘I like to have an interval in which I tell the naughty girl what she’s still due.’ He moved forward to kiss the top of her head and stroke her hair. ‘Anyway my arm needs a rest.’

  ‘Bugger your arm - what about my bum?’ Lisa muttered, giving him a sideways look.

  ‘You want me to bugger your bum?’ he joked, then traced a thumb or finger around the puckered anal entrance. The herbalist whimpered. She loved it when he touched her - but she didn’t want his cock in there.

  ‘No, I mean that my bum’s had enough of the tawse,’ she mumbled, hiding her face in the pillow again.

  ‘That’s for me to decide,’ Michael replied. ‘And I think you have another five strokes coming up.’

  He was obviously going to take her to her limit. Arousal wettened Lisa’s sex-slicked legs. ‘Thought the submissive was really in charge?’ she got out, then realised that for the first time she’d referred to herself as submissive.

  ‘In this case your clit’s in charge,’ Michael said. As he spoke, he slid his right hand under her and located the swollen bud, teasing it with the lightest of caresses. ‘Just tell me when you want to feel the tawse on your arse again, sweetheart,’ he murmured in a coolly conversational tone.

  ‘You’ll have a long wait,’ Lisa retorted shakily. Then she groaned with unquenched desire as he pulled his hand away.

  ‘Shall we play strip poker to pass the time?’ he asked. ‘You’re only wearing a T-shirt and bra, so you’re definitely at a disadvantage.’

  She was also at a disadvantage as far as her hungry clit was concerned, Lisa thought. She wriggled about on the pillow, her mons half mad with arousal. He’d tied her hands so that she couldn’t relieve her aching quim. ‘Alright, give me the other five strokes of the tawse,’ she forced out, her voice sounding tensely hollow. But not as hollow as her gaping carnal canal.

  ‘As you wish,’ the doctor said, picking up the Lochgelly tawse. Lisa sucked in her breath, and waited for its burning impact. When it came, she shoved her belly forward the little she could and bucked and yelled. ‘Was that your way of thanking me for number six? I thought a well-spanked bum would show better manners,’ her implacable boss said.

  ‘Please give me stroke seven,’ Lisa forced out. Soon, she told herself, tensing her bum, all the punishment would be over, and he’d at last grant relief to her sex.

  She moaned again as the seventh stroke made contact with her flesh. God, her bum felt hot. She wished that she could see her cheeks again, look at their glowing scarlet. She’d sparred with the man for most of this session, but now she was ready to say what he wanted her to say.

  ‘Ask prettily for stroke eight,’ her boss reminded, teasing the worn leather over her obediently rai
sed backside.

  ‘Please use your tawse on me again, sir,’ Lisa muttered fervently.

  ‘Push your bottom higher of its own volition,’ the doctor countered, taking the pillow away. He helped her move her languid limbs. ‘Yes, that’s better, much tauter. Beautifully raised.’

  The herbalist groaned with lust as she moved from lying on her belly to lying on her raised knees with her head on her arms. Her near-lover obviously knew that a rigid rear was a more vulnerable one. The next stroke was somewhat lighter. Nevertheless, the leather still stung its way across her central swell and made her shudder anew.

  ‘Only two to go,’ her tormentor said.

  ‘Hey, you should have been a Maths teacher,’ Lisa parried with a renewed flash of spirit. Then she howled as the tawse licked her crimson curves again.

  ‘Now where shall we put the tenth one?’ the doctor queried, using the implement to trace the earlier hot lines it had emblazoned.

  ‘How about on your cock, sir?’ Lisa said. In truth she didn’t want anything to mark that cock, or put it off its thrusting. She wanted it to pleasure her needy core.

  ‘Such a rude girl. You must really enjoy being tawsed,’ Dr Landers replied. He pulled the strap back, and Lisa’s bottom flinched of its own volition. Laughing, he lowered it, then raised the implement again. ‘That bum must know it’s been bad. It’s very nervous,’ he murmured, voice holding a smile.

  ‘Might just be taking dancing lessons,’ Lisa said quickly.

  ‘It’ll dance on the end of this leather in a moment,’ the doctor said.

  The herbalist wanted action, not words, wanted the final stroke to be over so that the man would make love to her. ‘Spare me the play on words,’ she muttered, looking briefly around. God, he looked wonderful, his dark eyes sweeping over her clothed and unclothed extremities, his black hair falling across his brow.

  ‘You’ll be using sweetly submissive words when you’re begging for my cock,’ her almost-lover warned, playing the punisher through his hands and staring at her bottom.

  ‘Maybe I’ll just ask for Don Muscat’s cock instead,’ Lisa said. Then she felt the tawse’s lash and she rolled over onto her back and yelled at him. ‘Aaah, you bastard. That last one was really hard.’

  ‘Something to remember this correction by,’ the man kneeling between her thighs said sweetly. As if she would ever forget...

  But now she wanted - no, needed - a more direct sexual touch. ‘Please untie me so that I can hold my punished bum,’ Lisa whispered raggedly, keen to hear his reaction.

  ‘No need,’ said the man, ‘I’ll soothe it for you instead.’ He looked down at her as she wriggled upon the quilt. ‘Roll over onto your tummy again, love.’

  ‘You won’t thrash me any more?’ Lisa begged. Much as she’d loved being held down and dominated, there was only so much her poor buttocks could take.

  ‘No, you’ve been punished for tonight. I’m always fair,’ her boss replied.

  Trusting him, Lisa rolled over then put her head to one side, watching his movements. She gazed at his palms as he gently rubbed the chastened flesh. ‘Later I’ll put cold cream on you,’ he promised gently. ‘But I want you to stay nice and red and tender whilst we make love.’

  Beyond words, Lisa spread her thighs apart, scissoring them so widely that her feet reached towards the beds lower corners. She wondered if Michael would ever bind her ankles to the sturdy posts.

  ‘Move over onto your back again. I want your heated bum rubbing against the bed as I enter you,’ Michael said. Lisa closed her eyes as new lust swept through her. Quickly and silently she obeyed. Moaned as she felt his fingers stroke apart her labial leaves, exposing the opening. ‘Jesus, sweetheart,’ he whispered, ‘you’re so hot and wet.’

  ‘Maybe that’s because I’ve been fantasizing about other men,’ Lisa whispered back, but her tone was teasing. She wanted this particular man so very much...

  Again she tugged at her bonds. It was exciting not being able to use her hands like this, but it was also frustrating. She wanted to cup his naked arse and weigh his balls in her hands until he groaned with ecstasy. Not that he was naked yet - which gave her an idea. She could ask for permission to undress him. That would be a sweetly submissive act.

  ‘Sir, if you were to untie my hands I’d be honoured to take your clothes off,’ she murmured smiling up at him, eyes dancing with mischief.

  Michael Landers sat back on his knees between her parted legs and looked at her consideringly. ‘I suppose you could be trusted to do that,’ he said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Though if you scratched me by mistake you’d have to taste the tawse all over again.’

  ‘Short nails. See?’ Lisa parried, holding out her tethered tanned arms. She looked at him hopefully, then watched with satisfaction as he started to unknot her bonds.

  When he’d finished taking off the necktie which held her wrists, he massaged them both then kissed the warm pulse spots. Lisa got carefully up so that she was kneeling close to him, her head beneath his. Staring at his chest, she unbuttoned the white shirt from collar to waist, then slowly peeled it from his torso. Looked at the suntanned flesh and dark swathe of body hair and felt further sparks of sensation stirring in her groin.

  Submissively she bent her head and suckled at his nearest nipple. Then she moved her lips to his other nipple and did the exact same thing. She wrapped her newly-freed hands around his waist as she did so, exulting in the warmth of his skin.

  ‘I love your scent,’ Michael murmured, and the herbalist wondered if he was referring to the rose oil perfume she’d re-applied in the cab to her pulse spots, or to the unique odour of her arousal. Luxuriating in the moment, she moved her hands to his belt and unbuckled it, her fingers fast. She’d waited so long to be on a bed with him alone like this. She could hardly wait. Pushing the leather strap out of the way Lisa unbuttoned Michael Landers suit trousers and carefully unzipped them. The doctor moved his body into a sitting position on the edge of the four poster, and Lisa adjusted her torso so that she could pull his trousers and socks from his feet.

  Now the only garment which remained on his seated body were close-fitting pure white underpants. They were clearly outlining his thick hard phallus and as Lisa edged the garment down his manhood jerked free. The glans were already shiny with evidence of his arousal. As she tugged the cotton over his thighs, she could see that his balls looked taut.

  ‘There, doctor - you’re naked,’ she said with some satisfaction. ‘Do you want me naked too?’ She sat back on her haunches, confident that he would soon pull her top and bra off. Instead, fresh yearning flooded her triangle at his next shaming words.

  ‘No, I want you to keep your T-shirt on. It further accentuates your hot rotundities,’ he said, staring into her eyes till she could no longer bring herself to confront his.

  ‘Maybe I should have left your briefs on at half mast to further outline your penis,’ she quipped.

  ‘Angel, I don’t think it needs underlining, do you?’ the doctor replied, looking down at his rigid length.

  Inwardly Lisa acknowledged how swollen and stiff it was. But her body would soon milk him of his lust and vigour. Feeling more sure of herself, she lay down on her back and scissored her sex-slicked thighs apart.

  ‘No, I want to fuck you doggy style,’ Michael said. How did the bastard know it was her favourite position? She loved the humbling feeling of her bottom sticking up into the air, her breasts dangling forward like silky pendulums. Her ex-husband had sometimes shafted her that way, and she’d shivered with delight at his long slow cock thrusts. Had hinted that she’d like to be shafted that way more of the time.

  You didn’t have to hint with this man. He just took charge. He ordered and spanked, and her submissive sexuality responded.

  ‘Make me assume the position,’ she challenged throatily. Then she thrilled as Michael’s hands encircled h
er waist and he flipped her over before moving her onto her hands and knees.

  ‘Any more taunting from you and that red bum gets a refresher course,’ he warmed, squeezing both tender hemispheres. Lisa writhed and groaned.

  ‘Put it in me,’ she begged.

  ‘Put what in you?’ Michael enquired.

  Was he really going to shame her some more? Lisa searched for some coy words that would make her answer less humbling. She found none. She was going to have to talk dirty to the man.

  ‘Please drive your cock up me and shaft me hard,’ she muttered, staring glassily down at the pillow. Her breasts swelled with unprecedented excitement. Her sex centre was just one yearning dripping gape. Was he looking at her labia as he knelt behind her, or was he staring at her chastened nether cheeks?

  ‘I suppose I might as well shove my cock in this hole now that I’m here,’ Michael said coolly.

  A slight excitement in his tone betrayed his words. Lisa knew that he wanted this consummation as much as she did, if not more. ‘Shall I guide you in, sir?’ she murmured breathlessly.

  ‘Such thoughtfulness,’ Michael mocked, skimming his palms over her pelvis. ‘But I think I can cope.’

  The herbalist felt him probe at her entrance. God, that felt good. She held her breath then let it out as his phallus pushed all the way in.

  ‘Aaaaah,’ she gasped frenziedly as rapture spread its way up her oiled interior.

  ‘Did you say something my dear?’ Michael murmured. ‘I’d like you to enunciate properly.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Lisa said, trying hard to keep up the pretence of hating him.

  ‘I thought it was the other way round,’ Michael sparred. She felt him partially withdraw from her quim and moaned at the loss of contact.

  ‘Please,’ she whimpered, pushing her hips back against him with unashamed desire, ‘keep it all the way in.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you needed... I didn’t want to be presumptuous,’ her lover murmured.

  ‘I need it right up me,’ Lisa said. She liked to play word games, to keep the man guessing, but she didn’t want the source of pleasure to be taken away.