TWELVE
R.A. Buckley
One!” I squeal as the paddle lands on my ass, the burn already beginning even before He’s warmed up. I can’t believe that He’s punishing me for this; it’s so unfair! The last time I sassed Him in public He gave me ten paddles, not twelve. It was eleven at first, but when I mentioned this to Him He added another. Like I said, it’s so unfair. I wasn’t even sassing Him, but rather the stupid Dom who thought he was making me feel good on that Saint Andrew’s cross. I was bored, and I barely felt anything; that’s why I called him a pussy.
“Two!” The paddle lands across my ass again and I know that my cheeks are going to hurt tomorrow. When He’s really mad at me He doesn’t say anything during my punishments. That’s really the worst thing of all; silence is not my friend. And He knows that; I guess that’s why He does it. It makes me think about what I’ve done wrong, and also how to make it up to Him. Was that Dom as stupid as I thought? He was using a cane but it didn’t even hurt. But Master has said that I’m a pain slut who can take a lot more than most dish out, so maybe it wasn’t the stupid-head’s fault. I could have asked him for more.
“Three!” I yelp as I announce my count this time. This is as hard as He ever hits me. But looking back on the evening, I know I deserve it. I was bratty the whole night. I complained about the outfit He had me wear, and how cold it was in the dungeon as well. He shot me that look, the one that says “You’re skating on thin ice, little one,” and I should have realized what He meant. But no, I had to go mouthing off to the owner of the dungeon (although if he owns a dungeon he should know how to hit harder) and I embarrassed Master. When He was quiet on the drive home I knew I was in trouble.
“Four!” The tears start welling up in my eyes as I announce my count this time. The pain is pretty intense, but I’m more upset that I disappointed Master. How could I have disappointed Him like that? He loves me and he usually is so proud to show me off. I love to be the perfect little sub for Him, but tonight I was that brat everyone talks about when she leaves. Oh, shit, I can feel the tears really flowing now.
“Five!” The tears continue and I sob as I call out my punishment. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night, and all I did was ruin it by acting like a petulant child. Why do I do this? We can be in such a good place and then it seems like I will purposefully screw up, like I’m scared that this perfect thing will end, so I sabotage it. Master would probably use some psychoanalytic term to describe what I did since that’s His job, but I just feel like I can’t handle it when things go too well.
“Six!” I’m sobbing hard now. I fucked up and I know it. I know this is penance for not only what I did to the gentleman at the dungeon, but because I was acting like a brat all night. I should have had a great time. I love showing off my body, and wearing nothing but a body stocking in the club should have been the perfect thing for me. But I had to whine and complain and it wasn’t for any real reason other than that sometimes I just have to rebel.
“Seven!” The sting in my buttocks intensifies as I begin to hiccup from taking in too much air at one time from the sobs. Oh, I have that ugly crying face now on top of everything else. Master knows that I’m going to rebel; I’ll never be that perfect service-oriented sub that you read about in those books. I have to act out; it’s just part of who I am, and honestly part of my submission. I need to push Master’s limits so that I can feel safe knowing he’ll never let me fall or go to far.
“Eight!” My sobs are slowing down, the sting in my ass is lessening; oh yes, I’m starting to get there. When I need a good beating Master always delivers and sometimes I get to heaven. People call it all sorts of things—the most common term is subspace, I guess—but for me it’s heaven. All I can feel is the paddle reddening my bottom, and Master’s gaze upon my body as I react for Him. He loves me so much and He knows that I need this from time to time. If it were a normal thing it wouldn’t be so special, would it?
“Nine!” The pain is almost gone entirely now. I feel like I’m floating, even though I’m on my hands and knees on the living room rug. I can feel my pussy reacting to Master’s attentions, even though He hasn’t come anywhere near it. I’m a pain slut and I love to feel my body being used for His pleasure, for correction, for punishment, for whatever He desires. He makes my body sing and react in ways that I never thought would be possible. I’ve orgasmed from His bare-handed spankings many times in the past, and other ways as well. It’s part of our dynamic and why I love Him so.
“Ten!” It’s now like an out-of-body experience. I can almost see my body, taut and tense as it awaits the next lash from the paddle, craving the feeling of Master’s paddle, reminding me that I am His girl and I am expected to obey Him and make Him proud at all times. It feels like I could come at this moment, but I don’t want to; I want this moment to last and for my Master to tell me when I can release. I am His and want to make Him proud.
“Eleven!” I barely recognize my own voice as it echoes throughout the living room. I look over at the windows overlooking the backyard and see Master, the paddle in His hand as He prepares for His next strike, in the reflection. I see the smile on His face; He knows that I am repentant now.
“Come.”
“Twelve!” My body explodes as Master says one word and the paddle lands across my ass for the final time. I heave and convulse as my body and pussy spasm. I never grow tired of this—serving Him, pleasing Him by accepting punishment and pleasure at the same time. He is my Master, my Love, and my body sings for Him in exactly the key He wants.
It’s over. I collapse onto the floor and feel His strong arms envelop me. There is nowhere else I need to be. No more punishments tonight. Just love.
AROUND THE BLOCK
M. Marie
Since having their baby two years ago, Jason and Alexandra had implemented a secret routine. Every couple of days, when they needed a release, they would ask Jason’s mother to babysit while they went for a “drive around the block.” They made the excuse of needing some quiet time together, and the doting grandmother was only too happy to fuss over her grandchild for an hour or two, so no further explanation was needed.
No questions were ever asked about the small bag Jason brought along, either.
They lived in a small farmhouse just outside the city limits, so they simply had to drive around a bend to find privacy. They would park on the shoulder of the road a few miles away from the house, turn off the ignition, and allow themselves a brief escape to indulge their sexual kinks.
It wasn’t ideal, of course. A hotel room—or a dungeon—would have served their needs better, but with their daughter so young, and money a bit tight, it was hard to justify that kind of expense. All they truly needed was each other and a safe space to play in, after all, so with their house out of the question now that Jason’s mother was in residence, their car had become their secret playroom.
Tonight, after parking and killing the engine, the pair stepped out of the car to quickly check that the area was indeed vacant, before sliding into the backseat. Alex settled in beside her husband, before getting right to business: “Safeword?”
Jason’s eager grin filled the backseat. “Venice,” he responded.
She smiled softly at him—that was where they had been married. Alex loved Jason’s romantic side…it paired so nicely with his submissive nature.
Gracefully, she straddled his lap. As her warm weight dropped down onto his thighs, Jason’s body reacted instinctively to the feel of her body pressed so closely against his. His pulse quickened, his skin flushed, and, as he felt his cock begin to harden, Jason shifted so she could feel it pressing against her.
“Not yet,” she admonished.
Alexandra’s short black dress had shimmied up her thighs as she settled into his lap, baring smooth, porce lain skin. Slowly, she slid her hands up her legs, from knees to waist, pulling her skirt up completely as she did so. Jason’s hungry eyes followed every movement, and settled quickly on her pussy as it w
as bared. She never wore panties when they went for their drives.
His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to touch, but he resisted. Pleased, Alex leaned in to press her lips against his. Her kiss was demanding and desirous, but brief.
Pulling back, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Did you bring my bag?”
Instantly, Jason’s cock swelled with excitement. “Yes! It’s on the floor.”
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
He obeyed. There was a rustling of fabric as she shifted on top of him, then the metallic purr of the bag being unzipped. Next, silence. He tilted his head, listening; her fingertips tapped his chin, making him start slightly. Her fingers traced his jawline, down to his throat, then disappeared, only to be replaced a heartbeat later by a familiar, heavy sensation.
Jason practically purred as Alex slipped his well-worn collar around his neck and carefully buckled it, being mindful not to fasten it too tight. With it placed to her satisfaction, she slid even closer and let her firm body press flush against his. His breath caught in his throat as she pulled his wrists behind his back. There was another familiar noise—metal clinking together—and then the cold sensation of bands encircling his wrists.
The handcuffs snapped shut with a sharp click, restraining him.
“Good?” she checked, in a throaty whisper. He nodded consent.
Satisfied, she reached between their bodies and stroked his stiff erection through his pants. Her lips were against his neck now, and her fingertips had found his zipper. Her teeth nipped just below his jaw as she lowered his fly and reached inside. He cursed in a low voice as, after squeezing the base teasingly, she slid her grip up to encircle the head of his shaft and pull it out of his pants.
Jason’s groans deepened. “Can I open my eyes?” he begged.
“No.”
Grinning, Alexandra didn’t loosen her grip as she slid off his lap and dropped to her knees on the floor of the car. Above her, Jason spread his legs and blindly thrust his pelvis upward as she lowered her face to his crotch. Alexandra’s tongue lapped a lazy circle around the head of his cock, before she opened her mouth wide and took the whole organ.
She wasted no time on a slow buildup. Immediately she began to suck hard; her left hand was gripping the base of his cock and squeezing rhythmically, while her right hand cupped his heavy balls. As she slid her mouth up and down his swollen cock, her tongue swirled around the hard shaft and, occasionally, she pulled her lips back from her teeth and let them graze tauntingly over the sensitive skin of his erection.
It was maddening. Jason wanted to bury both of his hands in her long hair and rein her in to a steadier pace, but the cuffs kept him from doing so. She increased the pressure of her teeth for a moment, enjoying the way he squirmed and shuddered, but once his breathing grew labored, she relented and climbed back into his lap.
“Watch me,” was her brusque order.
Jason’s eyes snapped open. Under his heated gaze, Alexandra reached between her legs to spread her pussy open, then slowly lowered herself onto his stiff, throbbing cock. Helpless to touch or interact, he merely groaned and panted, offering breathless cries of pleasure as she rode him roughly.
She came first. Her cry of climax made him keen in frustration. She could feel him trembling beneath her and took pity on her pet. Affectionately, she slid two fingers under his collar and tugged lightly as she commanded, “Come for me.”
Jason climaxed with a hoarse, breathless bellow. His wrists strained against the handcuffs hard enough to leave bruises. As his tremors subsided and he sagged back into the smooth leather seat, Alex gently stroked his damp forehead and whispered praises against his temple.
When he had recovered somewhat from the exertion, Jason rolled his head to the side and looked out the car window. The sky had darkened considerably since they’d left the house. Alexandra confirmed the late hour beside him.
After adjusting her clothes and freeing his wrists from the handcuffs, she decided, “I don’t think we have time for any other toys tonight. We need to get back.”
There was a time when Jason would have protested; he would have insisted they stay and that his Domme focus her attention solely on him, but they were no longer simply submissive and dominant. As partners—and parents—other responsibilities often had to take priority.
Without complaint, he bent his neck so she could unfasten his collar. After all, their next indulgence was always just around the block.
THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY
Angela R. Sargenti
My wife thinks I’m working late. She’d be shocked to know where I really am, lying facedown, shackled to a table at my Dominatrix’s place.
Unfortunately, my Domme knows I’m here betraying my wife’s trust in me. The flogger snaps against my buttocks, causing me to gasp, then moan.
“You little shit. You don’t deserve a woman like her.”
It’s true. I probably don’t, because she’d be crushed to find out about Mistress Lorena and the kind of activities I involve myself in.
She hits me again, and I strangle a cry.
“You should be home, or working late like you told her you’d be, you lying dog.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You probably couldn’t wait to get here, you scum.”
I feel tears well up in my eyes, because she’s right, she’s right about all of it. I could be home making sweet love to my wife, but the problem is, she’s not very adventurous when it comes to sex, and her sex drive is low. She rarely lets me get inside her, and even when she does, she’s flat on her back with the lights either off, or down so low I can barely see her. As for her doing the work of Mistress Lorena, that wouldn’t happen in a million years.
My wife doesn’t have a kinky bone in her body, whereas my Domme is a deceptively petite lady, with flaming red hair and a temper to match. All of her commands must be promptly obeyed or she works me over extra-hard.
She wields the flogger again.
“Did you hear me?”
“No, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“I told you to pay attention. What are you thinking about in that stupid little head of yours?”
“My wife.”
“Oh ho, so you do think about her. You’re not just a thoughtless little fool?”
“No. It hurts me to treat her this way.”
She starts flogging me—once, twice, three lashes—and then she stops.
“It’s going to hurt you even more, because I’m giving you an assignment,” she tells me. “I want you to confess by our next session.”
“Confess?”
“Yes. I want you to tell your poor, long-suffering wife the truth about your late nights at the office.”
“You can’t be serious.”
This enrages her and she moves down the table and starts whipping me again. I start crying, but I don’t know why.
“But how?” I ask her.
“Just open your piehole and speak. Show her your welts. I don’t care how. Just do it. And I want proof that you’ve done it. A note, a phone call, a personal visit. I don’t care which. Just tell her, or else.”
“You ask too much.”
She beats me again.
“I’ll teach you not to disobey me,” she says through gritted teeth. “Talking back to your Mistress like that. And stop your sniveling, before I really give you a reason to cry.”
And I know what she means, but I can’t help it. I deserve to be tortured, so I make no effort to squelch my tears. She stands there patiently, and when I don’t stop, she sets the flogger down and unclips my shackles.
“Turn over, and make it snappy.”
I obey her, and flip over onto my back. She clips my shackles back into the rings in the table and picks up the riding crop lying beside the flogger. I’m already hard, and the sight of that crop makes my insides ache with need. When she realizes this, Mistress Lorena strolls over to my head and looms over me.
“
Time for the blindfold.”
I open my mouth to beg her not to blindfold me, but she silences me with a smack to the knee. I shut my mouth and she retrieves the blindfold from the tray and goes to slip it over my head. I raise up for her, for it will be far, far worse if I disobey her now.
My cock throbs. It’s so hard now it hurts.
“What a naughty boy you are, Phillip.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Such a bad, bad boy.”
She runs the crop up and down my cock. It twitches, and I fight back a moan. She grabs hold of it and smacks me on the balls quickly, before I can start pumping into her hand.
This does nothing to diminish my hard-on. I want her to touch me again. I might be able to come if she touches me again, but the devil made this woman to torment me. She slaps the crop against my cock. Not too hard, but still.
A groan escapes my lips and she whacks my cock a few more times. It hurts like hell, but the snap-back is incredible. I squirm on the table and she caresses me with the crop again.
“I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn tonight.”
“Oh, please don’t make me tell her.”
“You’ll do it, or else.”
But Mistress Lorena knows how to torture and tease. She continues punishing my cock, but none of her cajoling will make me break.
And then she does the unthinkable. She yanks off the blindfold and slaps my face.
Hard.
“I’ve had it with you tonight,” she tells me. “Just lie there and watch me pleasure myself.”
She’s never done this before. She grabs the vibe off the tray, and she’s so fucking sexy I think I’ll burst. She gets herself off pretty quickly, and I’m half out of my mind with lust. I pull at the restraints, but of course, it does no good. She slaps my nipples and tickles my dick, but not enough to be useful.
Big Book of Submission Volume 2 Page 6