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“That’s very good. I give you credit for being so honest.”
The young woman waited for the next question, but there was none.
“You can open your eyes. The worst is over.”
The maid wiped her tears away, as she returned to the reality around her.
“Since you obviously need to be punished, I’ll be certain you will, and often. And from now on, I’ll demand your good behavior and exacting work, or, green card or not, immigration or not, you’ll be fired. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If it’s discipline you require, that you’ll get. But don’t continue to sacrifice your life and gamble on your future by creating foolish blunders to be punished for. You understand?” His voice rose like a violent wind, wrapping about her quivering form with more ferocity than she ever expected. “Do you understand,” he repeated, when she hesitated.
“Yes, sir,” she answered.
“And enough with meekness!” he snapped. “You’re not a meek woman. In fact, you are a woman, not a child. Twenty-three, I believe?” He stared at the maid for several moments. Eye to eye their exchange—dominant to submissive—was a tantalizing moment, so rich in meaning and import as the young Helena discovered herself in the midst of the dreamed of fantasy, even though its outcome would be a painful reality.
“Jocelyn, get my spanker,” Reggie ordered his wife.
Jocelyn jumped at the abrupt command. Being as submissive as the maid, she tiptoed quietly to the open cabinet and pulled out the leather spanking paddle. Returning, she handed it to her husband, then shrunk back to her chair to watch the grim proceedings with as much fascination as she’d watched the German S&M theater Reggie had take her to when they were just dating.
For all the drawn out drama of the beginning, Reggie was swift to finish off his guilty maid. Moving briskly, he placed a chair in an open space in the room and bade her bend over, palms resting on the seat. Helena obeyed while her audience of one watched her nicely rounded bottom well presented, the two distinct orbs jiggling just slightly under her skirt. Reggie’s deft hands reached to the hem of the garment and drew it up over her thighs, then over her bottom, revealing a lovely ass underneath a pair of thin nylon panties. With one quick jerk, he dispensed with her underwear as well, Helena whimpering softly as the cool air hit her naked skin.
Without further ceremony, Reggie began with the spanker, the leather pelting the submissive behind so that a red glow quickly appeared where her bottom was once pale beige. She cried from the outset, but didn’t scream or wail. It appeared her response was simply genuine pain, the agony of it instantaneous and sustained as the smacks went on without pause. Only when Reggie decided that the pain was too much for the woman to handle did he ease off, so they both rested, though he paused only seconds. Beginning again, he raised the cries, the pain, and the vibrant red, leveling the leather with greater zeal and a harsher consequence, until he paused once more for a brief reprieve. He repeated the methodical process several times, until at last, a moment’s rest did nothing to ease the torment and his submissive’s desperate cries were too horrid to squelch any longer. Her bottom was vibrantly red and marked with savage looking streaks. With Helena still in the midst of the agony she’d been dreaming of for so long, Reggie finally stopped.
Sensing the punishment was over, Helena started to slump to the floor.
“Stand up!” Reggie commanded. “And don’t start sniveling in front of me.”
Getting a grip on her misery, the girl pulled herself to her feet, with her skirt conveniently dropping over her ass.
“You’ve been punished enough this once. I trust the message is clear?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she snuffed her reply, wiping tears with the back of her hand.
“Here, take this,” he said, handing her a Kleenex. “There’s no reason to be that sloppy.”
She wiped her tears, then blew her nose and slowly backed away from the center of the room. She might have backed out altogether, but Reggie stopped her.
“Now that your great obsession has finally been realized, Miss Helena,” Reggie said. “You can watch your mistress take a few necessary cuts of her own.”
“What!” Jocelyn was immediately pulled from a thoughtful reverie as she heard her husband’s comment.
“You heard me,” he said, turning to his wife.
“Reggie?”
He didn’t answer her, but instead
walked to the cabinet and pulled out a shiny bamboo cane. Once at her side, he took his stunned wife by the arm and he pushed her toward the chair. Her immediate obedience was more from shock than willingness, as she bent over, just as her new maid had done.
“Why that?” she blurted out, when at last some small bit of reason began to dawn on her flustered mind.
“For not handling the problem yourself. And because I want Helena to see what she has to look forward to.”
With the two women in the room both trembling in fear, Reggie raised Jocelyn’s skirt, letting Helena get a long look at the two mounds of white. Then with a brisk efficient stroke, he laid the cutting implement on his wife’s behind six times. The unforgettable sound of the swishing cane was matched only by Jocelyn’s grunting response, though neither sound was as intense as her silent cry that declared this unexpected turn of events to be a gross violation of her trust.
Within seconds, he was finished. Six red welts remained etched on her behind, with each distinct cut being a cruel reminder of Reggie’s darkest passion.
