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I nodded.
I wish I knew what he was thinking, but he said no more.
“Mr. Winningham,” Reggie changed his tone for the spry shopkeeper, who was still standing off to one side as he viewed the scene.
“Yes, Mr. Harold,” he answered.
“These will do.” Picking up all three punishment implements, he handed them to the man. “Wrap them up and have them sent to the address on my card. And thank-you Damon for your assistance.” He flashed the man a genuine smile, and taking me by the hand, he led me from the shop. Just that quickly it was over, and all the fine pleasurable feelings I often feel at the end of punishment were working their miracles on my brain and body, making me think that it wasn’t all that bad.
My poor bottom was hardly happy sitting naked on the seat of Reggie’s Porsche. The dress naturally rode up when I sat down, and I didn’t try to pull it back in place. At first, the leather was cool, then it became annoying, sticking to the raw red surface of my skin, adding more insult, especially when I tried to squirm.
“Your discomfort is showing,” Reggie remarked.
“What do you expect?” I replied. My retort was more caustic than it should have been.
“You’re actually lucky that I didn’t go on longer. Perhaps I should have. It might have knocked the sass out of your voice.”
I didn’t reply. Anything I said would be the wrong thing. The rest of the way back to my apartment we rode in silence. The depth of my punishment was so remarkable, it would take some time for me to appreciate what I was enduring to save my relationship with Will. All this, and no certainty that Will would even care. Maybe it wasn’t just for him that I was surrendering.
W
hen the Porsche pulled up in front of my building, the car stopped with a jerk.
“I’ll be disciplining you within the next few days, perhaps tonight, don’t plan anything that might interfere.”
He left me under the blanket of icy coldness I was accustomed to from Reggie, though I really needed something more than this brusque chill. Unfortunately, if it was comfort that I wanted, I’d have to get it from myself. Certainly Reggie wasn’t going to provide me with a shoulder to lean on or a handkerchief for my tears.
Chapter Five
I’ve spent many hours submissively waiting for Reggie. He always calls the shots, everything done on his capricious timetable. The anxiety fuels my desire and raises my emotions to a peak, so I can’t take my mind off the great impending ‘whatever.’ I can never imagine things the way they turn out. There are always surprises to wonder over, and fears to try and lay to rest.
He told me not to plan my time in anticipation of his next appearance. With that thought in my mind, my weekend was ruined. There was little I could do but obsess on the possibilities. I’m sure Reggie knew this and was chuckling to himself.
On Sunday afternoon, I settled into my comfy chair, watched some mindless TV, then picked up a volume of spanking stories I ordered on-line. I thought the choice appropriate for the moment.
I thumbed through pages without really settling on anything to read; the stories didn’t quite match the intensity of my experience. Reggie wasn’t an authoritarian husband, not even a commanding lover; though he did feel quite free to take liberties with my body. His intimate knowledge of my sexual needs defied any normal man/woman relationship.
Picking up the collection of spanking novellas, I paged through that, looking for scenes that would speak to me, maybe explain what was going on and why. Had any woman had the same experience that I had? Was there some ‘sister’ in this bizarre universe of fetish lovers that knew how I felt right then?
I was about to give up my search, when I began one curious story, starting to read in the middle, not the beginning. It was called Awkward Friends. The title seemed perfectly apropos, certainly my friendship with Reggie was awkward. The thought made me smile, maybe I’d found a companion within this novella:
“I’m surprised you showed up,” he said.
“I can’t help myself,” the auburn-haired woman replied. She couldn’t hold her head too high and act too proud, not considering what she was asking. “You will do this for me?” she said with some insistence.
She had waited a long time to be spanked, and she refused to wait any longer. This man would grant her wish, if she could in the least determine her fate.
Fate was shining down on her. Destiny catching up with her need.
“You realize that I’m stern with a paddle, most eager with a strap, and ruthless with the cane. My submissives have no choice but to comply.”
“I expect nothing less,” she answered, tossing the long auburn hair back over her shoulder. One lock lingered against her black sweater. Her bright lips defined a wide mouth that could grin broadly, though this was not a time for smiles. “I need this,” she added. He sat there looking into her eyes, while he was making his decision.
He pushed away from his desk and stood up. Opening a cabinet against the wall, he pulled out a heavy wooden paddle and laid it on the desk.
“I favor the woodshed,” he said formally. His voice was clipped, the attitude reminding her of many years of punishment at the hand of a stern father.
My cunt warmed just reading these words. That stern father routine was like nothing I’d experienced, but it was everything I’d fantasized about. Was this how I felt about Reggie?
