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Along the way I asked about her story. Who was the man, what was her relationship to him and what the implement was?
In a more relaxed manner than the last time she talked about it she said, "I don't know who he is. I've never pictured his face but I think I know who he might look like now." She was looking right at me as she said that. "As to my relationship with him, I'm not sure. All I know is that in my fantasy he is someone who I must obey. He is like my Master but aside from when he punishes me I don't think I'm his slave or anything like that. And the implement is just that, an implement. It's only important in that it is something that hurts. I'll have to think about that and add a few more details next time I ..., well, next time. It could be a belt like in your story but I don't think so. Something along the lines of a special paddle or one of those spanking straps. I don't know but it would be something who's only purpose is to inflict pain."
I asked if she thought about being bound or misused in any other way. I mentioned her addition to my story and said it sounded a little like a rape fantasy. She answered, "I find nothing erotic about rape, either in real life or in my fantasies. It's more about my shame when he finds out how much I've gotten aroused by the pain and humiliation of submitting to him. I guess its what my English Lit professor would call ironic. I'm humiliated to start with and that turns me on and then the humiliation of that gets me more turned on which just adds to my humiliation and so on. In my fantasies I try to control my desires and always lose. In all of them I want sex after the spanking and as much as I may fight it and beg him not to, I'm wanting him to make me come. Maybe some psychologist would say I'm a victim of repressed sexual desire. We'll see if that's still true later tonight."
She reached over and held my hand. After a minute or two she continued, "Since you asked, I've also thought about being tied up and helpless as some man does what he likes but it didn't feel right. Maybe it was too close to rape or something. As to your story, let me explain. Not all my fantasies are about spanking. We've done a lot of things that you never knew about. My addition wasn't the first time I've imagined you in bed with me so it wasn't like some stranger taking advantage of a poor helpless girl. I have a version of 'The Man I Must Obey' fantasy where I am chained but being bound for punishment is not the same thing. My fantasy Master has never, um, had intercourse with me so the chains represent punishment beyond what I could be expected to submit to otherwise. That probably doesn't make any sense either but anyway, in this fantasy I come to him naked. Do really want to hear this?"
I put a hand on her thigh and said, "Yes!"
She casually explained, "Actually, I come to the room fully dressed as usual. In all of my fantasies with him I imagine being sent for in some fashion. Maybe a servant gets me. I'll have to think about that too. All I know is that I when he wants me in that room I am to be punished in some manner but don't know how until I actually enter the room. If The Chair is in the center of the room I can expect to be over his lap as I described before but this time The Chair is against the wall and there is a chain hanging from the ceiling. The table is in its normal spot and holds his choice for my punishment. As much as I hate being spanked, it is preferable to what I will go through before I leave the room today. As always, I'm terrified but submissive. I always remove my shoes before each punishment but in light of what he has prepared I must also remove everything else. There a hat rack by the door and I hang my clothes on hangers he has so thoughtfully provided. There are a pair of cuffs for my hands dangling from one of the hooks. When I am naked I pick up the cuffs and deliver them to him. He locks my hands together and attaches them to the chain hanging from the ceiling."
She asked if she should continue and I, of course agreed.
"I have done my duty by presenting myself and offering no resistance as he makes me totally helpless so once the first strike lands I am allowed to scream and beg for mercy. Of course, he ignore my pleas. If I were doing this for real I imagine every stroke but in the interests of brevity and safe driving I'll summarize. The implement is used from the very start and I am whipped thoroughly, back and front. This one has a different ending in that he doesn't touch me down there and leaves me hanging, in more ways than one I guess, as he goes from the room. I usually don't get this far but when I do I imagine myself crying in unfulfilled frustration more than the pain. And we better talk about something else for a while before I pull my pants down again."
I told her she was welcome to strip entirely if she wished but with a laugh, she said, "I intend to but I'll want your full attention and then I want to watch you do the same. Until then maybe you better have both hands on the wheel."
I reluctantly took my hand from her thigh and we talked about other things. We were both trying to get our minds off sex and we were almost successful until the conversation got around to a pajama party our friends had a few weeks ago. It was really just a costume party but we all wore pajamas or night gowns. She showed up in a pretty short nightshirt with our college logo on it and I remembered being surprised since wearing something that revealing seemed out of character for her. At the time she reassured me that she was not a fallen woman and quickly pulled up the hem enough to show me the shorts she had on to protect her modesty. When I mentioned this incident she got quiet and asked me what else I remembered about her that night.
I recalled dancing with her but she shook her head. Then I recalled finding her in a quiet corner reading one of our host's girlie magazines and teasing her about it. She nodded and said, "That's when it all started. The music was a bit loud and I decided to sit someplace away from the speakers for a while and found his collection so I opened one out of curiosity. I found the letter section and some of them were pretty comical but one caught my attention. A woman was writing about her husband spanking her before they have sex and how much she liked it. This went against all logic. My parents spanked me a few times when I was a little girl and although I don't remember any of the details I do remember not liking them at all. They hurt and how could this woman want something like that. I was convinced she and her husband must be perverted but I couldn't stop reading it again and again. I had it memorized by the time you found me and thank you by the way for teasing me about it quietly. I would have died if anyone else knew what I was reading but back to the letter. I couldn't get it out of my mind and lay awake for a long time thinking about it. I kept seeing her asking him to spank her and imagining what it must feel like. My roommate wasn't home so I used the privacy to do a little self-manipulation and before long it wasn't some faceless woman begging to be spanked, it was me. It wasn't the first time I touched myself but it was the most intense. The more I imagined my rear end under his hand the better it got and I was hooked on spanking fantasies. They kind of evolved into more severe punishment scenarios like the ones I told you about but whenever I wear that nightshirt I go back to the first one."
I asked her to tell me what happens and she explained, "I've changed it a little from the original letter but the basic idea is the same. I imagine a quiet evening at home and I put on that nightshirt. It's my signal to him that I want him to spank me. As soon as he sees it he leads me to the nearest chair or maybe the couch. Some place where he is comfortable and has plenty of room to swing. You know how short that shirt is so you can imagine how it rides up over my rear end when I'm across his lap but that's not enough. He lifts the hem higher and always acts surprised to see that I'm not wearing panties. He starts lightly but not too lightly. Just enough to sting a bit. The pain builds slowly and when even these relatively gentle spanks start to hurt he begins the real spanking. Now he hits hard. I'm so turned on I can't see straight and I'm dripping all over his pants. If he were to stop now and take me I'd be in heaven but he knows I want to go farther and the swats are harder than ever. He's not a violent man and we both know he'll stop if I ask him to so he can spank as hard as he likes without guilt and without being moved to mercy by my cries. And crying I am. My ass is on fire and at last I can't stand it anymore. I beg him to, excuse the language but there's really no other way to say what I'm feeling, I beg him to take me. I must beg him five times with a swat between each before he stops and I scramble to my feet. I just about rip his clothes opening his zipper. There's no time for him to strip completely. As soon as he is out in the open I straddle him and impale myself. I ride him for all I'm worth as he pulls my nightshirt over my head to get better access to my breasts which he bites and pulls and pinches and can't you drive any faster. How long till we get to the cabin?"
I wasn't about to speed on icy country roads so I opened my window to let some cold air in and suggested she cool down a bit. She punched my arm, told me to close the window and snuggled in closer for the rest of the trip.
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