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Morning had broken, such a bright morning. She’d enjoyed a leisurely shower while awaiting his arrival; lingered in the bathroom carefully applying the perfume he liked. Appraising her reflection in the mirror Katia felt the first lascivious stirrings disperse her apprehension. In her bedroom she put on his exotic choice of lingerie, method actress-like in her preparations, adopting a role along with her clothes. Wondered what he would do with her – to her – on this occasion; the combination of anticipation and memory of past encounters made her shiver with trepidation and good old-fashioned lust. This would be their third meeting, each more intense than the one before and, Katia reflected, there was never a more willing submissive. She heard the key turn in the lock, familiar footfalls as he crossed the hall.
“This will be a relationship based on consensual coercion,” he’d explained at the beginning.
If you liked your men craggy, good looking and in excellent physical shape – as did Katia – then he ticked all the boxes. More importantly, a charming, amusing and, above all intelligent companion, albeit directing their liaisons with natural authority and an automatic assumption that she would do his bidding.
“But I don’t know your name,” Katia had protested.
“No, you don’t,” he’d agreed with annoying equanimity.
“You know mine,” she’d continued fruitlessly.
“Quite so, if it becomes important I’ll tell you.”
“Important to whom.”
“Me, obviously.”
The only clue was a glimpse of a credit card, Dr…
Of what, medicine, divinity, letters?
Initially Katia found his confident instructions constraining but, and here was the paradox, also strangely reassuring. Far from surrendering control being a problem, his autocratic direction offered the perfect way to realise her fantasies; alone, she’d never have summoned the nerve.
“I’m here,” called a resolute, unruffled voice. Preparations completed, Katia walked downstairs to meet him. Dignified and composed, a loosely fastened silk gown failing to conceal her curves, she walked towards the fireplace in the lounge and gave a fashion model twirl.
Wordlessly he sat on the sturdy sofa, watching her, enjoying the voyeuristic pleasure of perusing every inch of her body, just as an artist appreciatively views the perfect landscape before picking up a brush. At last he reached out and pulled her to him, tipping her unresisting, across his knee. No less than she expected; had he not done so disappointment would have far outweighed relief.
Methodically and exceedingly thoroughly he spanked her. First over the thin, tight fabric of her knickers and then, after taking an almost malicious delight in tugging the diaphanous nylon up over her cheeks and harshly into her bottom cleft, on her trembling bare skin which quickly turned a fetching rose-pink, causing her to utter the first audible reactions to her punisher’s expertise. Breathe quickening; a series of involuntary pants and cries escaped her lips.
Interspersed with vigorous applications of his palm came interludes of respite, wherein his hands delicately stroked and soothed the increasingly hot fullness of her buttocks, teased and explored the moistening crease between them. Holding her waist firmly, ignoring what xslot had now become cries of protest and childlike pleads for mercy, he continued the spanking, burnishing her backside to a glowing crimson.
Squirming across his knee Katia knew better than to let her hands interfere with his ministrations. Instead she gripped the sofa cushions tightly – kicking her feet while her bottom burned and stung. After a while in parallel with the soreness came another more agreeable sensation. A slow building of unabashed carnality coursed through her loins. She craftily rubbed her moist-pantied mons against the muscles of his thighs to heighten her growing pleasure.
After the alternating pattern of chastisement and caresses had been repeated half a dozen times he halted, and with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation Katia felt her knickers being drawn down to her knees. Momentarily his hands rested on the two burning globes.
She lay meekly, unsure what was to follow, as he prised apart her thighs, his fingers gently spreading her labia to reveal the promise within. Katia yelped with shock as something hard, smooth and spherical was insinuated between her engorged nether lips and deep into her vagina. Another similar push and a second such object followed.
“Japanese love balls,” he explained dryly. “The more you wriggle the more they’ll stimulate you from inside.” The next five minutes passed in a blur. As Katia’s arousal increased so did her capacity to endure ever harder slaps rose. Squirming uninhibitedly on his lap set the two balls in motion within her, sending waves of pleasure pulsing through her aching clitoris.
“Sit up,” he said suddenly.
“Why?” Katia whispered instinctively, and instantly regretted the perceived insolence of her question as her thighs were peppered with a volley of stinging slaps. “You don’t learn very quickly,” he said, lifting Katia into a sitting position on his knee.
Humiliated she prudently sat silent, knickers around her knees. Delighted at her confusion, he tipped her unceremoniously back onto the sofa, holding her ankles aloft with one hand and exploring her hot, pouting sex with the other. Fully exposed she was powerless to protest as he tugged at the cord linking the two love balls, sending electric jolts of excitement coursing through her erogenous zones. Laconically he manipulated her clitoris with his thumb while at the same time a nimble finger teased her tightly puckered anus. Meanwhile a harder hand soundly spanked the expanse of her buttocks. Katia’s legs kicked in anguish as the last areas of smooth white skin were mercilessly attended to, her gabbled words a mixture of petulance and pleading. Friends and colleagues at work, her former husband, none could ever have believed she would so crudely and urgently demand to be fucked.
“When I’m ready,” he replied, unflustered, still neatly attired in sharp contrast to Katia’s dishevelment, “and not before. What you want and I allow are two very different things.” Heaving Katia unsteadily to her feet he gazed approvingly at the heat-radiating orbs of her behind. Pushed backwards and handicapped by high heels Katia feared she’d fall, but was thankfully halted by the padded back of an easy chair against which she now leant facing him.
Grasping xslot Giriş her hair he kissed her long and hard, Katia responding vigorously, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. Without preamble or finesse he opened her gown, revealing pert pink nipples, erect and available, roughly twisting and tormenting each hard protuberance, making Katia gasp and groan.
Carefully, deliberately he slapped the underside of her exposed breasts, clearly amused at them quivering with each cruel impact. Hands pinned beneath her, unable to protect herself, Katia could only protest helplessly. Meanwhile her sex glistened wetly, Katia’s traitorous libido again betraying her. Apparently satisfied with the angry red blotches he’d visited upon her boobs, he turned his attentions to the front and insides of her tender thighs, no longer concerned to allow Katia even the lightest of soothing touches, instead cruelly indulging his dominance.
Stoically enduring this latest onslaught, Katia sensed a conclusion was not far off, saw the growing bulge in his trousers, heard his laboured breathing, recognised the obsessive glint in his eyes.
Overtly challenging the last taboo he softly spanked her sopping sex lips. Struggling vigorously in response, she finally freed her hands and tore at his belt, attempting to release his erection. To no avail, a final penetrative pleasure was denied. Instead he ground the heel of his hand hard against her overheated sex. A diabolical combination of the love balls and his fingers teasing her clitoris proved too much. Katia climaxed but, just as he’d intended, remained unfulfilled.
“Get dressed, we’re going out now.” Knowing it useless to protest, she obeyed and within minutes Katia was sitting meekly in his car, with no idea of their destination. Desperately frustrated, she wondered what more she must endure that day…
“Katia.”
Shaking her head she struggled to focus on the present she returned to reality.
“Sorry,” she replied automatically.
“I said,” he repeated, smiling enigmatically, “we’re going for a woodland walk.” Then, lowering his voice still further, added, “You won’t be requiring your knickers, so be good enough to hand them to me.” Katia blushed vividly, but eager not to antagonise him by being tardy in response pushed back the passenger seat.
It took several minutes of furtive, embarrassed fumbling, twisting and turning – during the course of which an adjacent van driver was treated to a flash of thigh and beyond – before a mortified Katia was able to inch the black lacy panties over her ankles and pass them to him.
“Thank you,” he said, “I enjoyed watching that.” Minutes later they pulled into the car park on the edge of the woods.
Katia was too worried at what he had planned for her to appreciate the sylvan surroundings. Fortunately the woods were apparently deserted, save for a solitary dog-walker several hundred metres away. Katia winced as he squeezed each bare buttock through the thin material of her skirt.
“Ow, don’t you think my poor bottom’s suffered enough?” she complained.
“I take it that was a rhetorical question,” he replied, grasping her elbow and steering her from the sunny main path to a less well-used gravel track, darker beneath the spreading overhang xslot Güncel Giriş of trees. “They’ve recently planted some new young saplings this section,” he continued conversationally, “just the thing for my experiment.” Stopping, he reached up to examine a thin, supple branch. “A definite possibility,” he mused, reaching into his pocket for a penknife and cutting a length about a metre long.
A look of concern crossed Katia’s face, “Experiment, with that?”
“Exactly,” he said, pleased at her acuity. Deftly stripping off the leaves to leave a pliant switch, he flicked it with evident enthusiasm, Katia shivering as the whippy wand whistled though the air.
“This is an ash, there’s also hazel and birch over there. The experiment being, which is the better to thrash you with?’ he added helpfully.
“So, we cut a bundle, take them home and I get beaten with each of them?” Katia guessed.
“Not exactly,” he smiled. “I rather thought we’d try each in situ – alfresco, as it were.”
“Whip me here, in a public place? People might see and… ”
“Very true, adds to the spice, doesn’t it?” he interrupted eagerly. “Now, bend over and touch your toes, my dear.” Katia looked around; fortunately there was not a soul in sight She bent and clasped her ankles, then gasped as her skirt was lifted onto the small of her back.
“Oh no!” Her protest at the unexpected baring of her bottom ended abruptly as the first searing cut bisected her still rosy cheeks. A line of pain, quite unlike either the cane or crop – both of which she was now intimately acquainted with – took her voice away. She rocked, gripping her ankles for support as another equally agonising stroke landed a centimetre or two below the first.
“Ow!” she wailed.
“Shush, have some consideration,” he chided. “People come here for piece and quiet. Still, I see what you mean, that certainly does leave a mark. I think two strokes will suffice for the moment.”
He strode ahead leaving Katia to stagger stiffly after him, rubbing her seared seat. The hazel was, if anything, worse. Clutching her ankles for the second time two more cruel cuts were etched into her overheated moons. Katia had tears in her eyes as she tried her most woebegone expression on her tormentor but us usual pleading had zero benefit.
“Just the birch to come.” Fortunately he was skilful enough not to overlap the final two strokes across earlier wheals. Equally luckily Katia might caught a glimpse of movement and managed to stifle her cry of distress into a cough, lurching upright as an elderly woman walking what appeared to be a rat on stilts rounded the corner.
“Morning,” he hailed affably, the flexible little wand still in his hand.
“Morning?” replied the women, checking her watch to confirm it was in fact early afternoon and fixing Katia with a long enquiring look as she passed.
“It hurts,’ wailed Katia “even walking is sore.”
“Yes, perhaps a tad more severe than I’d expected,” he affirmed, without hint of apology. “The question is, which to choose, any preference? “The birch spreads its favours too widely,” he continued upon receiving nothing but a sulky silence, “whereas the hazel cuts very cruelly. I think we’ll stick with the ash; better accuracy, more control.”
He might as well, thought Katia crossly, be considering a matter of anodyne academic enquiry for all the consideration she was getting. Whatever next? She wondered as they walked back to the car in contemplative silence.
Katia would soon find out…