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Although he did not use the hairbrush on me again he did make an occasional visit to my room. Usually it was just to chat a bit and see how I was doing on the book. After a while I had gotten over my nervousness when he came in but my sense of security was premature. He re-established his dominance in an unusual way.
He had been out of town and it had been more than two weeks since I was over his lap so when he came to see me and did not ask about the book I thought my reprieve was over. Instead of what I expected he sat on the bed and with silent commands sent me to my knees to service him. Oddly enough he did not make me disrobe but after he left I stripped everything off and tried to masturbate. Unfortunately, the old tried and true methods did not give me the relief I craved and I was afraid of the real reason. During the next week he repeated his visits and made use of my mouth twice more. As before, he did not spank me or make me remove any clothing. My attempts to find self-gratification remained fruitless. At last I had to admit that I knew what was missing. However, knowing and doing something about it are two diverse things.
It took another two days before I spoke up. We were in the library when I cleared my throat to interrupt his reading and casually said, "It has been some time since you took me to The Room. Does that not amuse you anymore?"
He smiled and ignored my question and presented one of his own. "Is there something you want to say?"
I fidgeted and tried to be nonchalant as I retorted with a question of my own. "What do you mean?"
He put his book down and looked directly at me for yet another question; this one directly to the point. "Do you want me to spank you?"
Our little series of unanswered questions ended there. It had taken me months but I finally had the courage to answer him honestly. Still it was embarrassing so I looked down and quietly said, "Yes."
He was not satisfied with a short answer. "Yes what."
I took a deep breath. "I want you to spank me."
He nodded and curtly ordered. "Take your shoes off."
I looked up and asked, "Here?"
As he rang for the butler he said, "Yes, here and when I am going to spank you I expect nothing but obedience. Never question any of my orders. A little extra discipline should help you remember that. Since I intend to spank you quite hard anyway adding more strokes would be wasted effort. So, I think something else is in order. Perhaps a bit of embarrassment will do the trick."
Before he could explain further the butler arrived. His employer went directly to the point, "Bring me the chair and the small paddle from the other room."
When we were alone his attention returned to me. "He will be back in a minute. If you are not down to bra and panties by then I will invite him to stay and watch you take everything off."
My eyes were wide in horror but I complied. Because of the need for haste I piled my excess clothing on a nearby chair. When the door opened again I was properly attired. Well, maybe not proper but correctly anyway. I briefly considered shielding myself from the butler's eyes but a quick glare from the other male in the room squelched that idea. I stood straight with arms at my side. I'm sure the servant enjoyed the view but he was the model of decorum and made no overt sign that he even saw me. My host indicated where he wanted the chair and sat down. He called me to stand at his side and then guided me over his lap before giving his final instructions, "That will be all for now. Have the maid come here in about ten minutes. Oh, and tell the cook I would like blueberry muffins for breakfast tomorrow."
The butler left and I wondered it he would tell the others what was going to happen to me. Then I felt a hand caress me. Acting as if there was nothing unusual about the events leading up to this he said, "Ah, so very nice. I hope you're not in a hurry to get to the real spanking. I've missed this lovely bottom and want to enjoy my reunion with it."
In spite of the humiliation I did not find his touch to be unpleasant. That is, not at first. He eventually got around to more serious contacts when he stopped. I did not hear the maid knock on the door but I guess he did. He called her in and said, "I want you to take her clothes up to her room."
After the girl gathered my things he said, "There will be more but you can wait here. Knowing that you are watching should help her learn to fold her clothes neatly."
Except for the times Mom and Dad were both in the room I had never been spanked in front of anyone else. The fact that I knew the maid was periodically subject to corporal punishment did nothing to ameliorate my humiliation. I tried to maintain some semblance of stoicism as he started again but it was a losing battle. His swats were getting harder and who might be seeing me grimace and cry was no longer a concern. When he stopped again I was in tears and well prepared for the paddle. You can be sure I was regretting my earlier request but part of me was aware of the fact that he was taking my panties off completely. I dreaded the spanking to come but knew I would be rewarded in some manner afterwards. When he unhooked my bra and slid it off my arms to give it to the maid my hopes for more than manual stimulation rose.
The maid and all my clothes disappeared and I briefly wondered how I would get back to my room when this was over. However, concern for the future and thoughts of the delights to come were quickly replaced by the reality of the present. His hand rediscovered my bottom a minute ago and now it was my turn to be reminded of the paddle's sting. Now I was convinced I had made a bad decision but there was nothing to do but endure it. I might add that I did not go quietly into that dark realm of pain. If the butler or the maid told the rest of the staff about me getting a spanking it was wasted effort. I'm sure everyone else in the house was well aware of it.
At last I felt his hands soothing me and I was more impatient than usual. I long ago gave up complaining about the after-spanking festivities and now my need was so great I had my legs wide open and was wantonly begging him to touch me.
Much to my chagrin he kept me in suspense for another minute and then had me stand. I quickly put my hands on the chair. I waited expectantly until he said, "No. Turn around. I want to look at you."
His eyes explored my body and then he carried me up the stairs. Not the romantic swoon in his arms and hold onto his neck sort of carry but toss the girl over your shoulder and keep her bottom warm with occasional slaps en route.
When we got to my room he plopped me on the bed and put me on my knees with my rear end uppermost. I twisted my head and watched him disrobe. Of course, I had seen his equipment before but only when sticking out from his fly. It seemed more impressive totally unconfined and definitely rampant. I smiled and licked my lips and hoped they weren't the only part of me to interest him. Then I got worried as he picked up his pants and withdrew his belt from the loops. As he approached me he did not fold it like he did that Saturday but held the buckle end and kept it at full length. He said, "Raise higher."
Nothing but blind obedience could make me present myself for the belt but he had trained me well. I put my rear end as high as I could get it, closed my eyes and barely heard the sound of that thing whistle through the air. The impact was not like anything he had punished me with before. I screamed and fell forward. Before I could attempt to get back into position he flipped me over and pulled my legs apart. I flinched as my bottom touched the mattress and then again as his weight drove it down farther. He nibbled, pinched and mauled my breasts while he pounded into me and I was in heaven. I couldn't focus my eyes but I think he was smiling as orgasm after orgasm caused me to tighten around him.
When he was done he gently covered me with a blanket and kissed my forehead. He bid me goodnight and added something else. At the time I was still a little delirious and his final words did not sink in.
When I woke up the next morning my bottom was still feeling the effects of his spankings. That was nothing new. While he did not leave bruises the deep sting lasted for quite a while. What was different was the big smile on my face. I had been well attended to and was still very happy about it. I recalled his departure and shook my head. Whatever he said; it couldn't be what I thought I heard. Nevertheless, I shuddered every time it came to mind.
I had almost forgotten about that until the day he mentioned. As we sat down to dinner I noticed my meal did not match his. He saw my questioning look and said, "I thought it best if you had a light supper. We'll be going directly to our little room after we eat."
Any appetite I had shriveled and I picked at my food. What I had heard was true. He was going to whip me.
When we got to The Room I noticed a few significant differences. The chair was moved from the center and placed against one wall. The small table was next to it and had a few things on it. I didn't immediately take note of what they were since the rope descending from the ceiling had my attention. He gave a little "Ahem" and I remembered to take my shoes off. He pointed to the hat rack and said, "You can hang your clothes here."
As I started to remove my dress my eyes opened wide. Hanging from one of the hooks was a set of leather cuffs with a short chain connecting them. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the basic idea of the evening. Although I never took advantage of it, I always had the ability to roll off his lap and stop the punishment. I could see that opportunity was not going to be an option this night. Once he put those things on me I would be helpless. I was going to hang from that rope and be completely at his mercy. He could and probably would whip me as long and in whatever way he desired. I felt a little faint and put my hand on his shoulder for support. He gave me a moment to collect myself before reminding me to continue stripping.
When I was naked he put the cuffs on my wrists and led me to the center of the room. After I was attached to the rope he raised it until I was on my toes.
He walked to the table and returned with a tool I had not seen before. A number of supple leather strips were attached to a thick handle. He held it up so I could get a closer look and said, "I won't kid you. This is going to hurt but it won't be as intense as some of the other things I've used. The major difference is where it will land which will magnify the effect. I'll give you a few breaks from time to time so you won't be overwhelmed. By the way, you are absolutely beautiful like that. I may put a hook in the library. Not to whip you but just to have you stretched out as you are now so I can look at you. It should also make our little evening chats rather interesting."
I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not and chose not to ask him. He was moving behind me and said, "We'll start with a familiar location. You can compare it to the paddle and the strap. It might comfort you before we move to other areas."
OK, he was right, it wasn't as bad as those things but that doesn't mean I liked it. I jumped at each contact and he cautioned me to keep still. In a way it was like his start-up spankings. No one stroke unbearable but the cumulative effect was getting to me.
Then he changed targets. The thing landed on my back a dozen times and I never felt anything like that before. I heard this was the way sailors were disciplined and actually wondered if it was worse than punishment on the buttocks. Given my choice I would rather just get a good lecture. The strokes moved down and after a brief visit to keep my bottom alive when a little farther.
Some of the innumerable spankings I had received over the years had occasionally included my upper thighs and I was never fond of that. Now the whip was bringing back those almost forgotten memories and adding to them. Another curt command to stop moving to avoid the whip got me to speak for the first time. (Not counting my moans and periodic cries of course.) I defended my honor. "Please Sir. I'm not trying to avoid anything. I can't help myself. It hurts."
He slowed his strokes long enough to reply. "I'm sure it does but that's the object here."
He stopped and walked in front of me. "Do you remember when you were on the bed and I used my belt?"
I had tears in my eyes but I nodded. That one swat was the worst one he had ever given me. He continued, "If this were a true flogging every blow would be that strong. You would have welts that would take many days to heal. I'm not striving for anything like that. The last thing I want is to cause any permanent damage but I want you to know that you have been whipped. Tell you what, I'll work on your other thigh for a while and then we'll take a break."
Not really words of comfort but it helped to have an end in sight even if it would only be a temporary hiatus. I tried my best to hold position but he seemed determined to break my spirit. He succeeded. I cried out and begged him to stop and in spite of my best intentions, my body was doing whatever it could to stay clear of the whip. As you can guess, it was an exercise in futility.
When he stopped he went to the table, put the whip down and returned with some water. He put the straw to my lips and I drank gratefully. He stroked my face and said, "You're doing very well. A little too much movement but still delightful to watch. When it's time to work on the inside of your thighs I'm afraid I'll have to immobilize you a bit more."
I vainly tried to talk him out of that. "Please Sir. Don't do that. I know what it is like to be whipped now. There's no need to do more."
He smiled and ran his fingers down my neck to my breasts. "No my dear, you only have an inkling of what a whipping is. We have a long way to go. Take another drink and we'll continue our journey."
The glass and the whip changed places on the table and he stood slightly to the side of me. The front of my thighs was his new objective. Granted, it hurt as it was supposed to but not as much as when he worked on the back of them. However, occasionally the tips of the strands went between them and I clamped my legs together as hard as I could. As he got closer to their juncture I began to get worried. He stopped just short and began again from the other direction. Then he skipped over my pubic area and gave me a few swats on my stomach. That was more of an annoyance than painful but I realized he was just passing through. I had been watching his face but it was totally impassive. Then all I could do was look down and watch the whip as it moved higher and higher.
I cried out as it swept across my breasts. First from one side and then the other. Back and forth it went from the first swell to the tops of them. Up and down and back and forth relentlessly. The few times I could open my eyes and look I could see them getting redder and redder. As before, no one stroke too hard but the skin was getting more and more sensitive. I don't know how many times he chided me to stand still but my gyrations were no longer a thing I could control. I think my loudest screams were when he concentrated on the nipples. I'm not what you could call well endowed and had often wished I had a bit more up there. Now my feeling was just the opposite. If I could shrink them I would as the sting turned to a hot burning sensation.
I was exhausted when he stopped for another break. He poured me another drink of water and wet a washcloth. One hand held the water to my lips while the other cooled my breasts with the cloth. He commented on how enticing I was when I tried to wriggle away from the whip and again praised me for enduring the punishment. This time I responded. "Thank you. I'm glad I pleased you."
That may sound like sarcasm since I really didn't have any choice but to endure it but it's true. My motivation for letting him spank me started out as a need for discipline and it some way it still was. But ever since that time he used the hairbrush in my room and I knew he was my Master I wanted to please him even if it hurt or humiliated me. Sounds silly doesn't it?
Anyway, now that my breasts were slightly soothed he went back to the table. Actually, it was to fetch an object leaning against the wall next to it. I hadn't noticed it before and like my great revelation regarding being helpless, it didn't take a real genius to know what it was for. He attached an end of the pole to one ankle with a cuff similar to the ones on my wrists. Then he pulled my other foot out and it was fastened in like manner. My legs were forced wide open and the next area to be whipped all too vulnerably exposed. I tried the same tactic about not needing any more whipping again and got the same result. He ran his hand between my legs from my knees to about an inch below my crotch as he spoke. "I agree that you have a much better understanding of this type of punishment but I would be remiss if I short-changed your education. Don't worry about this. I have plans for it and I want it to be in good working order."
Two guesses what 'This' was. I'll give you a hint. When his hand cupped me there and a finger slipped in I pushed it farther out. Yes, even after these two terrible whippings I was aroused and I liked his veiled promise of using it for other things. What I did not like was the thought of what he was going to do first. As he approached me with the whip I whimpered, "Please No."
He repeated a game we had played before so long ago. He asked, "Do you want me to whip you?"
I shook my head and knew what he was going to ask next so I beat him to the punch. "No I do not want to be whipped but I am going to be."
He asked, "Why?"
I looked him in the eye and answered, "Because you want me to know what it is like to be whipped and because you like watching me when you do it but mostly because it is something you want to do."
I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Master, please whip me."
He did. First from the front on one leg and then to the other side. As promised he got no closer than a few inches from my crotch but that's only an observation in retrospect. At the time my only interest was in doing whatever mental gymnastics might take my mind off the pain. He went up and down both legs three or four more times before stepping behind to make sure no inch of skin was spared the whip's kiss. He said he was going to immobilize me but all he managed to do was force my legs to stay open. As far as the rest of my body goes, I was a puppet dangling on a string and jerking every which way. A young woman reneging on her foolish request accompanied the dance. Now it was "Master, please stop whipping me." and similar pleadings. I was probably saying other things as well but don't remember them and they were most likely just screams anyway.
For the grand finale he revisited my breasts and ended at the starting point by making sure my bottom knew it was not only for over the knee spankings.
I hung lifelessly on the rope while he freed my ankles. I don't know when he undressed but my next sensation was my legs being lifted and put on his shoulders. During the whipping the ache in my arms was only a small distraction. Now that they were supporting most of my weight it bordered on painful. Whereas the pain earlier pushed their discomfort into the background, this time it was the glorious feeling of being filled repeatedly that was the center of attention.
I swung back and forth with him setting the tempo. Each time was met each other I couldn't believe it. No one had ever filled me so deeply or with such force.
A little while later I was hanging from the rope watching him get dressed. I coyly asked, "Are you going to let me down from here?"
He finished putting his clothes on before answering. "Yes but not right away. It appears that you are fairly well satisfied but I wonder if more punishment after sex would get your juices flowing again. Let's find out."
I stared in disbelief as he picked up the whip. As he approached me he said, "You called me Master. Under the circumstances it is a suitable title for me and I shall act as such. You are here to be whipped and if you consider yourself to be my slave you have no grounds for complaint if I decide to continue the exercise. In fact, as a slave you have no rights and I could whip you as long as I wish and leave you hanging there until morning."
He could read the absolute fear on my face and smiled. "Not to worry little one. This won't be as bad as all that. You are too precious to be overly abused. I will limit my whip to your lovely bottom and will not leave you alone."
He had truly frightened me at first and now my feeling was just the familiar old dread of an impending spanking. My rear end received two fairly good applications of the whip just a short while ago and was still suffering the effects. It wasn't going to take much to bring it back to life. Even a few light strokes and I was going to be in tears again. However, as always and even more so since I was helpless, the decision regarding how much I was to endure was not mine.
I was right. The very first swipe of that thing against me hurt. If he liked seeing me dance in response to his actions he was getting a good show. My resolve to stay in position was secondary to my body's determination to avoid the whip. Looking back I can say that it was no worse than any other spankings but then again, no spanking is enjoyable while it's happening. I writhed and cried and carried on as if he was torturing me and felt ashamed of myself afterwards.
Speaking of Afterwards, when he stepped in front of me again he said, "Open your legs." and after his fingers confirmed his hypothesis I felt something larger press in. I opened my eyes and he withdrew it so I could see what it was. The handle of the whip was rounded at the end and very polished. I watched it go lower and it entered me again. He eventually brought me to orgasm using his fingers on my special spot and the handle going in and out.
Once again I hung limply but this time he released my hands so I could fall against him. He held me for a while and rubbed my arms to relieve some of the aching. Then he helped me get dressed and walked me to my room. At my door he said, "I want to speak to you about calling me Master. As I said, it was not inappropriate under the circumstances but do not use that term towards me again. It implies ownership and that is not what I want. You have submitted to my strange demands and will do so again. Aside from those times you are a free and independent woman. I enjoy your company and as I've said before, you brighten this house with your very presence. You normally refer to me as 'Sir' and I prefer that even when we indulge in my little exercises in control. I still expect compliance but whether you act out of your innate sense of obedience or by considering yourself to be my slave is your decision. Personally, I prefer the former. Goodnight."
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