Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection

by Portia Da Costa

  Alice glanced at the photo of Mrs. Grayson. There was nothing unhappy or penitent about her, nothing to suggest she resented her husband's stern treatment. In fact the very reverse was true. Mrs. Grayson looked a picture of contented fulfillment, and even allowing for the age of the photograph it was clear that her eyes were sparkling and merry.

  She loves it, the sexy minx.

  Alice turned the pages eagerly, and in the space of a few minutes she'd been drawn into the world of Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, and she longed to share it. Nostalgia overwhelmed her, a yearning for a time and a place and a society she had never experienced, but which she knew that she -- and Julian -- would relish.

  She paused at the page for Miss Sutherland, my son's governess and read another long and detailed entry.

  Today, I considered Miss Sutherland to be very lax in her guidance of Geoffrey. He came in from the garden covered in mud, and later I found several of my prize petunia bushes to be somewhat battered, due to the playing of a boisterous game of cricket in their vicinity. The punishment of Geoffrey is in the hands of his governess, but it falls to me to remind that young lady of her responsibilities. To that effect, she reported to me in my office at five o'clock, and there I bade her bend over the back of a hard chair while I lifted her skirt and petticoat, and then slid down her drawers to her ankles. [I always feel a punishment to be most efficacious on a woman's naked posterior] She pleaded with me for clemency, and complained about the lack of dignity afforded her, but these remarks soon ceased as I laid about her exposed part with my belt. After a good twenty strokes, and many tears, Miss Sutherland proclaimed herself well reminded of her duties, and I feel she is right in this. For the next day or so at least, a sore and heated bottom should serve as an excellent 'aide memoire' both for her and for me. I shall have cause to reflect upon its condition from time to time with much satisfaction.

  How many more women had fallen under Mr. Grayson's regime of dire chastisement? Alice flicked through the pages with scant respect for the ledger's great age. She wasn't in the least surprised to find several miscreants listed.

  Mrs. Potter, the cook, spanked with her own wooden spoon for over-salting the soup, but noted as a fine woman, and a true stoic, no tears.

  Not so Maisie, the parlor maid, who was reported as bellowing like a heifer when corrected with the back of a wooden clothes brush before an audience in the servants' hall. It really serves little practical purpose to punish Maisie, as this is the fourth dish she has broken inside a fortnight. She should be dismissed, because she will never be a good or efficient servant, but her large, white rear makes such a satisfying target and the way she wriggles is most delightful.

  Alice smirked broadly, she couldn't help herself.

  You only spanked them because you liked it, you dirty old goat.

  Thumbing through the book, she devoured the outrageous entries. It wasn't until she heard a church clock chime that she realized how long she'd spent in the Grayson household. Time had flown by. With a pang of guilt for the total price she had to hand over to the stall-holder, Alice gathered her purchases into a large carrier bag, and moved on.

  Even if there had been more time to explore, the rest of the market seemed to have lost its charm now. There was no allure in old vinyl records, home made jam, and baskets of potpourri, no excitement in embroidery or second hand books. All she could think about was the Punishment Ledger in her carrier bag, and the trenchant cane she'd left behind her at the stall. She'd wanted it. Oh how she'd wanted it. But still, that atavistic twinge of apprehension at the time had made her leave it; her fear that sexy daydreams and hard rattan would turn out to be two very, very different things.

  Yet still she regretted her lack of spirit, especially when she saw Julian's expression as he leant on the car, waiting for her. His handsome face was a picture of both amusement and feigned disapproval. He'd never looked sexier -- or more dominant.

  "What's all that?" he enquired as she set the carrier down on her lap.

  "Just a few bits," Alice defended as he set the engine in gear and they pulled out of the car park.

  He shook his head and his lips quirked in a familiar, despairing grin. "Oh, really?"

  The journey home was spent in silence. Alice had expected a token lecture, just for form's sake, but instead Julian seemed to be as wrapped up in his thoughts as she was in hers of the ledger; his face was composed as he drove, almost on auto pilot, back to their house.

  When the car slid to a halt, Alice was first into the house, eagerly unpacking her treasures, but making sure to tuck the ledger into a drawer in the sitting room that Julian never looked in. When he finally joined her in the room, her husband eyed her thoughtfully, as if he knew she was up to something, but he didn't challenge her. He didn't reveal the contents of his own large box of goodies either, just waggled his eyebrows when she murmured "Oh, really," back at him. Alice suspected it was yet more tomes, bound volumes of Second World War memoirs or some such, that they'd have to find room for on their bookshelves. Their evening passed as normal, companionable and easy, but Alice's skin seemed to prickle in a vaguely pleasant way all the time, as if electrified by her husband's probing gaze.

  As bed time approached, Alice crept into the sitting room to retrieve the ledger, while Julian was in his office studying his finds. She still wished she'd bought the cane too, although she'd no idea how she'd have finessed it past him, as it would have been too long to hide in the carrier bag. Despite the absence of the implement, she looked forward to hearing how Mrs. Grayson had fared under its reign. She'd no real idea what it might be like to live in a disciplinary household, but her instincts suggested that the cane would be the ultimate sanction, the ne plus ultra of chastisement devices. She couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like, but as she pushed open the sitting room, she tried.

  "Oh, hell!"

  Hovering on the threshold, she could only stare. There, in his favorite easy chair, sat Julian. His hair was wet from his shower and he wore only a pair of black denim jeans; both his feet and his smooth chest were bare. He was calm and composed, and seemed to be reading casually. What lay across his lap made Alice gasp.

  It was the cane. The narrow discolored cane with its evocative curling handle and all the painful memories that were encoded along its shaft.

  "This makes rather interesting reading, doesn't it?" said Julian in a slow, almost teasing tone as Alice hovered, nonplussed. He glanced up briefly, then returned to his close study of the Punishment Ledger, his slender fingers caressing the cane as he did so.

  "Y... yes." The words seemed to stick in Alice's throat. Her mind was a whirling torrent of possible futures. She walked slowly to where her husband sat, then halted before him.

  "It seems that they had some pretty effective ways of dealing with domestic misbehavior back in the old days," he observed, his blue eyes dark, betraying humor and arousal, while his finely shaped mouth remained firm.

  Although she didn't need Julian's permission to sit down, something in his manner made Alice remain on her feet. There was nothing at all about him that was like Mr. Grayson -- the Edwardian disciplinarian was a stout and graying fellow with mutton chop whiskers, whereas Julian was slender and clean-shaven -- but suddenly he had taken on the mantle of the keeper of the Ledger. He was so handsome that he always made her toes curl, but tonight he seemed darker somehow, delicious and very dangerous. He filled her with awe as he went on, his voice deceptively soft.

  "Here's a good bit… 'Today, my dear wife visited the milliner and did purchase four hats when I had expressly instructed her that one would suffice. Thus it has been my unfortunate task to administer the supreme sanction this evening. That is, my good and trusted cane, applied to her naked buttocks in six robust strokes. As ever, my darling did protest a very great deal, but with the assistance of Miss Sutherland, who held her down, I was able to complete the chastisement to my utmost satisfaction. So much so that, as I write this record, my dear one is lying face down on the bed b
eside me, with her delightful rear parts uncovered by either bed linen or night-gown. Though I do say it myself, the pattern of six crimson lines across her smooth white flesh is extraordinarily pleasing.'"

  The slowly spoken and savored words still hung in the air as Julian closed the ledger with a muted snap that seemed to echo around the room, and then looked up, his blue eyes intent as he scrutinized Alice.

  "He punished her for extravagance, Alice," he said, fingering the slender gleaming cane. "And I'll bet it was a lesson she didn't soon forget. I bet there wasn't a lot of overspending in that household for a while."

  "No, I suppose not." Alice experienced a deep, melting feeling in her stomach, and an excitement lower down that made it hard for her to keep still. The urge to rub her thighs together, to ease the ache, was overpowering.

  "Old fashioned methods have a lot to recommend them," her husband went on, still fondling the menacing length of rattan, "What do you think, sweetheart?" He twirled it now, deftly and cleverly, as if the damned thing had been designed for his fingertips.

  "I think they probably worked... would work very well." Alice could hardly believe that she was speaking the words. She was effectively sealing her own fate at the hands of this exotic stranger who'd taken the place of her familiar beloved husband. This stern, breathtaking man, both forbidding and temporarily forbidden to her.

  "In that case…" Julian nodded significantly, still twirling the cane.

  Oh God, it's so hard! So thin! It'll really hurt!

  Her eyes locked with Julian's, and they both looked down at the awesome object he was holding. It was such a plain thing yet latent with power.

  "Oh no," he said, surprising her by setting the cane to one side, "I think we'll leave this little beauty for another time."

  Julian shrugged, and Alice thought she saw a trace of trepidation. Was he unsure? Did he have just the same uncertainty and lack of experience that she did? For a moment, she wondered about her husband's past, and his secret urges that he'd never shared with her thus far. Had he done this before, played these games with a former lover? Or was it his first time too? If it was, he was clearly a natural, and she trusted him despite her fluttering fear.

  "I think we'll start off with something a little simpler, eh? Come over here," he said, patting his denim-clad knee.

  Alice crept across to him, and then paused a foot away, unable to look him in the eye any more. He dazzled her, and at the same time, she felt a whole new persona settling over her too. She hung her head and studied her toes, feeling more penitent than she ever had in her life; a miscreant facing retribution in the full knowledge that she had been sinful enough to deserve it. She shook, and bit back a moan when she felt her husband's hands on the waistband of her jeans, unfastening the button, then whizzing down the zip.

  "And I think we'll have a bit less of this sort of thing from now on." With a little shrug of disapproval, he tugged at the jeans, and then peeled them down her thighs. They were a snug fit, and they brought her skimpy knickers down with them, making her blush like fire. "I want to see you in pretty, feminine things a bit more often from now on. Skirts, slips, suspenders, nice, soft womanly knickers, lacy thongs… You should be able to afford plenty of new lingerie if you stop buying so much useless rubbish."

  Without thinking, Alice clasped her hands over her pubic patch, but in a swift move, Julian snared her wrists and pulled her towards him. "Now, now, no need to be so modest;" he said briskly, "You know I've seen all this plenty of times before. Let's have you across my knee, shall we?"

  You have done this before, haven't you?

  For a moment, Alice was distracted, unfocused. Who was the woman? Who had he punished?

  Then Julian stroked the inside of her wrist with a fingertip, making everything right again, with a secret touch hidden in the game. He was with her now. He'd always be with her. This was what mattered, not the past.

  Feeling as ungainly and gangling as a naughty, coltish girl, Alice did her best to obey him, almost tripping over the tangled clothing around her ankles. When she did get settled, she had the most precarious fear that she was going to topple head first off her husband's lap and onto the carpet. But instead, he held her firmly with a securing hand on her back, whilst presumably he studied the contours of her bottom.

  "Ready then?" Both voice and fingertips were gentle as they cruised her bare skin. His exploration made her quiver again. "Do you understand why I have to do this?"

  It was as if they were performing a ritual, each in their role, each serious, but also humming with desire. Alice nodded, and muttered a "yes", while her heart pounded and her mind filling with a very complex understanding indeed, a comprehension that went far beyond the simple shadow-play of punishment for misbehavior.

  "Ouch!" she yelped as the first smack fell on her right buttock, and all her preconceptions about what it might have felt like came crashing down with Julian's hand.

  Bloody hell, it hurts. It really hurts. I thought it was just going to feel like a gentle tap.

  Moisture filled her eyes as a second, even crisper blow landed. Involuntarily, she groaned, squirming and shuffling on Julian's lap.

  Dear God, how it smarted. How it stung. As more smacks descended in a fast and steady rhythm, it didn't take long before all of Alice's cheeks were flaming. Her dangling face was pink as a peony with a blend of embarrassment and excitement, and her bottom was so hot and throbbing that she was sure its entire surface was red and blotchy.

  How have you learnt to do this? You must have picked it up somewhere. Don't tell me it's pure instinct. You know this.

  The thoughts bobbed in her brain as her husband belabored her with skill and vigor. He was patterning the spanks around her cheeks, forming meticulous, overlapping circles and leaving no inch of flesh free of their fiery coverage. It was a master class and when her buttocks were pink and roasted, he tipped her body further forward and then aimed a volley of intensive wallops at the delicate under-hang; a zone so tender and thin‑skinned that it made her squeal in a way that she would have found hilarious in some other circumstance.

  "Now, now, my dearest," Julian said, his voice sounding like the very essence of Edwardian authority as he continued to spank and spank and spank, "Don't make such a fuss. This is good for you, you know." His hard hand struck her stunningly across her anus. "You've got to learn to like it." Two more slaps caught her thighs and made them sting. "Or how are you ever going to manage to take the cane?"

  You tell me! Alice almost howled aloud as her bottom cheeks blazed with a life of their own. I don't think I can take much more of this.

  As if he'd heard her, as if he'd read her mind with perfect clarity, Julian stopped far more suddenly than he'd begun. What Alice had expected to be another spank suddenly turned into a caress, even though with the state of her bottom it was like being stroked with a hand made of flame.

  Julian smoothed the tips of his fingers over her bottom as if tracking the marks he'd made and the punishment he'd wrought. It taxed Alice more severely than the punishment itself had, and she squirmed and churned her hips, rubbing her crotch against his knee, massaging herself against denim clad muscle in an attempt to get relief.

  She was more aroused than she'd ever been in her life, as well as being in the most complete discomfort she'd ever experienced too. Her clitoris throbbed and ached, the beat of it exactly matching the pounding ache in her hind parts.

  "What do you want, Alice?"

  Julian was leaning right over her now. She could feel his bare skin against her lower back and her arm. It was hot and silky and when she breathed in, he smelt wonderful, both fragrant with cologne and foxy with the sweat of his exertions.

  She wanted him. In any way she could get him, the pain in her backside notwithstanding.

  "Alice?" he prompted, and she realized she'd been drifting somewhere on a different plane of consciousness, buoyed up by pain endorphins and mind-bending sexual frustration.

  "I… I want to come,"
she gasped, her voice sounding odd and hoarse, probably because she'd been shouting and squealing for about five minutes. Was it only that long? The spanks seemed to have been falling for a millennium.

  "Come?" He said it low, and teasingly, like a caress in itself as his fingertips continued to torment her reddened bottom. He was dragging the very edge of his nails over her skin. Not heavily, in fact the action was almost feather-light, but it tasked her. It tasked her very hard. Every slow, taunting glide fueled her hunger.

  Hampered by her jeans and knickers, she tried to part her thighs a bit more and rock her clit against him. Julian pressed down firmly on the small of her back, steadying her. "Now, let's have the proper terminology, shall we? It's no casual matter," he murmured.

  Alice groaned, her brain barely functioning as he drew a forefinger right up the crease of her bottom and circled her anus. She had trouble framing words, and she sifted frantically through the English language for something that might make even the slightest bit of sense. Eventually, while he was still lightly playing with her vent, she managed to speak.

  "I want to have an orgasm."

  "You want me to give you an orgasm, you mean? I haven't given you permission to have one on your own." His fingers moved on, exploring the juncture of buttock and thigh, investigating a particularly tender zone. "And you won't get anything at all until I hear you ask correctly."

  "Please will you give me an orgasm."

  She almost said sir or master, but she was still Alice, and her own woman, despite the fact that she adored him, and what he could do for her.

  His fingers stilled and he gave a soft, merry little laugh. Leaning over more closely, he kissed her, his lips like a blessing on the side of her blushing face.