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I turned off the radio and we rode in silence for a while. When she spoke again it was in a monotone, almost as if she was in a trance and it almost scared me. She looked straight ahead and said, "I'm in a dress. A pretty one that I'm proud of. He calls me into the room. I'm scared but I have no choice. I enter and see him sitting on The Chair. Next to him is a small table. There is only one object on it. It is his selection for the evening. I shudder as I see it but I must conduct myself properly. The first order of business is for me to remove my shoes and leave them by the door before walking to his side. I want to plead to be excused but know better. Besides, I know he is firm and would not think of letting me off. In fact, such a plea would probably cost me dearly. But that is not the reason I hold my tongue. He has decided to call me in here and I cannot bring myself to question him so I stand where I am supposed to and wait."
I slowed the car a little so I could pay more attention to the unfolding story.
"He takes my arm and guides me down. My face is close to the floor and I hold myself from sliding forward by putting my hands on the floor. My dress is raised. I feel ashamed but make no move to escape as he brings my slip up to join the dress. He wraps one arm about my waist. I know his strength and have no fear of sliding off his lap now so I grab the legs of the chair. I know from experience he will leave my panties on for the first part. He's seen my bare bottom many times before and I know he'll see it again in a few minutes. It will be even more humiliating when they come down but until then I'm grateful for even a small amount of modesty and protection. My gratitude, however, is short lived as the first of many strokes falls."
Her voice was becoming more animated as she continued, "He is a man of ritual and as always, he starts with his hand. It stings and he slowly builds up the force and pace until he is hitting as hard and fast as he can. My ass is in agony. It is made worse by the knowledge that no matter how much it hurts now, it is just a prelude to the real punishment when he uses what I saw on the table."
Silence again for a few moments.
"At last he stops and lets me cry while he unfastens my garter snap from the stockings, slowly pulls my panties down, and refastens the garter. As soon as he let go of my waist I started sliding forward and was forced to release my hold on the chair to put my hands back on the floor. Against my better judgment, I plead for him to stop now or at least let me leave the panties on but to no avail. I am lucky that he does not order extra strokes as punishment for my outburst but rather than just pulling the panties down to my knees as usual, he takes them off completely. They are tossed to the floor by my head where I have to look at them as an added realization that I am now totally exposed to his gaze and the full force of his chosen weapon. My preparations are now completed. He has grasped my waist again so I can take hold of the chair legs. It's important that I have something to do. Everything about the punishment is controlled by him but at least I have my anchor. The air feels cold. For reasons I don't understand, he never uses his hand on my bare bottom so I know the next stroke I feel will be with the implement. He makes me wait. I am torn between the relief of a short respite and the terror and desire to get the next stage started. The decision is not mine. He will wait till he thinks it's time. Sometimes it's as short as a few seconds and sometimes its much longer. Probably minutes but seeming like hours."
She was breathing heavier as she went on, "I try to get some indication of what he's doing. A movement as he reaches to the table perhaps or maybe a sound as it is picked up but never with any luck so I am unprepared when the first strike lands. Unlike his hand spanking, he wastes no time with slight stinging slaps but hits hard from the very start. I am holding onto the chair for dear life. No matter how much it hurts I must not reach back to protect myself. I am allowed to scream and I think he prefers it. Maybe he needs to hear how his attentions are affecting me as well as see the results on my exposed ass. I don't know and I don't care. I scream because it hurts. But I expected no less. From the moment he sent word for me to meet him in this special room I knew I would not leave it until I had suffered greatly. Today is no exception. Whereas his hand spanking ended with rapid swats, this portion is different. His pace is much slower so I have ample time to appreciate each impact and be driven into a new world of pain. It seems to go on forever and then I realize he has stopped. I can't say if it is because he has heard enough of my screams, or if he had gotten to a predetermined number of strokes, or if he just got tired. All I know is that it wasn't due to any pity for me."
She had her eyes closed and didn't seem to notice I had pulled over and stopped. It was dark out but there was a full moon that gave me enough light to see her hands. They had started out in her lap but had strayed in a most enticing manner and were moving dangerously close to what was, for me at any rate, forbidden territory. Seemingly oblivious to what she was doing in my presence she kept up with her story.
"He puts his hand on me and I flinch. Even the slightest touch is painful but we are not done. There is still one more stage to go. It is the worst of them all. I hate it because I know how I will react but I must obey. My naked bottom on display is not enough. He must have access to more. Still crying from the pain and shame of what I must do, I spread my legs as far apart as they will go. His fingers move with agonizing slowness and finally reach skin that has been spared from his hand and the implement. Spared that is till now. His self imposed restriction of refraining from using his hand on bare skin does not include this area and he slaps hard between my thighs. Because of our positions he is only able to strike with any force on only one side but this is small comfort to me. It still hurts but it is not just the pain I fear, I know where he's going and am helpless to prevent it. I am completely defeated. I try to rationalize that he has beaten any resistance out of me but its no use. My legs are open and I'm straining to raise myself to meet him. Not out of any obedience or fear of further punishment but because I want him to touch me where I need him. The slaps on my thighs continue but I don't care. They are a small price to pay as he gets closer to his goal and my relief."
Her hands had followed her narrative and met in the middle. "At last he is running his fingers where I need them but not far enough. He keeps them there until I ask him to do more. I have been embarrassed already by my childish pleading, crying and screaming and now I have no control as I humiliate myself even further. I shamefully beg him to shove his fingers deep inside me."
I watch in amazement as she opened her slacks and pulled the waistband of the long underwear and panties with one hand as the other fought against the material and disappeared.
"I am putty in his hands and the pain is momentarily forgotten. He has exposed more of me than was covered by my clothes. He is making me shed the thin veneer of respectability and show myself as the sex starved female I really am."
The missing hand was really busy now.
"When he stops I have no pride and wantonly beg him to continue. Oh! Do it Master. Yes! Don't stop! More! More! Oh!"
She raised herself high and then slumped back into the seat. She was breathing really hard but between gasps she finished her story. "He slides me to the floor where I lay in my disheveled clothes. I am lost in a world of pain and humiliation and when I look up again he is gone."
After a few minutes she came back to earth and it dawned on her what had happened. She quickly pulled her hand out of her pants and started to re-zip them but I said, "Don't." She stopped and I quickly continued, "Pull your pants down and put your hand back where it was. I'm going to tell you my fantasy and you have the starring role." I turned off the engine and pushed my seat back. A few minor adjustments to my own clothes and I was guilty of indecent exposure. She smiled as she commented, "Ah, what have we here? The hard throbbing manhood freed at last. This better be good." She started to pull her pants down as I began my story.
"You've gotten into some trouble. Serious trouble that might get you thrown out of school but there's something I can do to save you. I agree to do it, however, there's a price. You will be punished for your crime by me. You accept the terms and on the designated night, report to my room. I command you to drop your drawers and with an air of false bravado you do so. You are now standing just inside my door with your jeans and panties crumpled at your ankles as I pile pillows in the middle of the bed. Your hand is covering your pubic hair and I allow this attempt at modesty for the moment while I complete the preparations."
I was touching myself lightly. After listening to her story I could have reached my goal after only a few hard strokes but I wanted this moment to last and hoped I could take long enough for her to join me. She was getting into the spirit of things. As I mentioned pulling pants down in the story she did the same here in real life. Her slacks and long underwear were bunched up at her knees.
I continued, "The bed is ready. All it needs is you so I call you over. Your feet are hobbled so you shuffle towards me. After you've gone a few feet I command you to put your hands on your head. You stop and look shocked but after a moment you slowly raise your arms and allow me to enjoy the view. You obediently place your hands on your head and have a little difficulty keeping your balance as you continue your journey. Your face showed signs of embarrassment when you stood by the door and it is now very flushed. You avoid my eyes as you slowly make your way to me."
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