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“I thought you decided this was too mundane for me!” I exclaimed when he finally paused. I recalled his words to Mr. Winningham, when he took me to his shop and introduced me to the toys I thought would define my punishment.
“I lied,” he said. He immediately began again, the fierce thing making its way across my rear cheeks with a terrifying zeal. With smack after smack, I wiggled and squirmed, and wailed nonsensical things into the air. To deliberately protest was clearly out of line. I was learning that lesson, or at least trying to.
Reggie seemed to center the spanking on the fleshiest part of my rear, but he was not beyond letting the hairbrush slip, laying several sharp smacks on the base of my rear and my upper thighs. I howled miserably when he hit those tender places. And at one point, I tried to get off his lap, raising the silliest full scale protest. I was reminded that Reggie was a lot stronger man than he looks behind all those perfectly starched clothes. Feeling the muscles in the arm that held me fast, their steely strength assured me I was going nowhere. I must have looked like a silly child, flailing myself the way I did. And to my further anguish, the awareness of his physical strength only stimulated me sexually in the midst of the dreadful pain.
When he suddenly stopped and pushed me off his lap, he looked at me with the same cruel coldness I’d often seen from him.
“Your brattiness exceeds your charm, Alexandra. You say you want this but your protests make me wonder. We’ll see how much you want what’s ahead.”
I wanted to cry, and it probably showed it.
“Careful of the theatrics,” he warned. “They only inspire me to greater heights of creativity.” His smirk was devastating. As I listened, I remembered that this was all on film, my humiliation, my red burning bottom and the expression of helpless chagrin that was likely blazoned across my face. I hardly needed to ‘act’ the part of bratty punished submissive.
He pushed my face to the floor. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered.
“But…” I started to protest, even as I tasted my prickly carpet.
“Hush,” he retorted. His hand at my waist felt like steel.
I adjusted myself to the position with my head and shoulders pressed against the hard surface, and my reddened rear cheeks raised high and facing the whirring camera. The heart of my most private place was now being filmed in all its flaming glory for God knows who!
The worst part of the position was my hands clasped behind me and held together by Reggie’s firm grasp. I was as bound as I would be if he’d used ropes to tie me.
The leather spanker, I assume the one he used on me in his office, replaced the hairbrush as the instrument of my punishment. Sitting on the couch, Reggie leaned in and laid a bevy of ruthless smacks on my stretched tight rear. The center of my bottom, that had for a moment calmed to a soothing warmth, was now flaming again from the wicked burn. The fierce punishment became one long rude roar of stinging pain that swept through me like a forest fire.
When he stopped for a moment, the pause was such a sweet relief, I wanted to bask in a sudden pleasant feeling that was replacing the pain. Unconsciously, I swayed my ass for Reg and the camera.
“You’re so ripe for this kind of thing, Alexandra. You never cease to amaze me.” His hand replacing the paddle, firmly kneading my sore ass cheeks. I replied by wiggling my bottom, thrusting it high to signify my approval of the vigorous fondling. Instead of continuing with the massage, however, Reggie picked up the leather spanker again, and began to wail on me with yet another ro
und of smacks. He spent some moments on my thighs, while I roared with a noisy string of four letter words.
From mid-thigh to where my legs and ass joined became the target for a good dozen strikes. I wanted to collapse into the carpet to get away from them, but he pulled me up with his hand and barked some command, which I didn’t really hear, though I clearly understood his displeasure. Then he came down only harder against the sore stinging flesh.
“Please NOOOOOOOO!” I wailed at last, the first really clear protest of the session.
“Don’t like this?”
“NOOOOOOO!” I repeated my angry cry.
“Then remember who you’re doing this for, Alexandra,” he retorted nastily. The spanker walloped me again and again, though he’d changed his aim and was coming down again on the center of my bottom. I was exhausted and crying, tears dampening the carpet.
All was quiet once he finally finished. I remained in my awkward posture, waiting for him to do something, but I wasn’t really thinking of anything at all but my blazing bottom. I came to, realizing that Reggie wasn’t on the sofa anymore. The whirring of the camera had stopped, and there was a chilling silence. Assuming that the punishment was over, that whatever he chose to record was complete, I waited for him to give me some kind of instruction.
I expected him to leave swiftly; Reggie’s abrupt changes could be called his trademark. With a wealth of raw, prickly, agitating energy gnawing at me, I’d be left to feel the after effects of the punishment with nowhere to find relief but by my own hand. For the moment, I tried to ignore the sexual warmth that was descending through me in powerful waves, but that was impossible. I knew Reggie could sense my anguish, and that gave him power over me. Still I could do nothing to inhibit what my body so dearly desired.
I expected him to grab up his camera and walk out the door. But then he shocked me, pulling me up by my locked hands. With a much more tenderness than I ever expected, he guided me to my knees and then to my feet. Holding my hands from behind, he walked me to the bedroom, his body so close that I could feel the rustle of his shirt and the soft silky feel of his pants.
He pushed me onto the bed, my face down, my bottom raised high. His hand still gripped my hands, and in that awkward position, my arms begun to ache.
“Please, Reggie,” I pleaded with him softly, tugging against his firm hold.
“Only if you’ll keep them out of my way,” he said, as he released his hold. My arms fell gratefully to my side.
I wondered what he was going to do, though not for long. He began smacking my ass with the palm of his hand as if he were starting all over again. It wasn’t long, however, before I realized that this was nothing like the earlier punishment, but something much lighter and deliberately sensuous. It was so unlike Reggie to suggest a sexual moment at this point of an intense session. If his intentions were sexual, I’d adore him forever – I was so ready to get off. Could he be as sexually aroused as I was?
Soon enough, several fingers slipped inside my sloshy wet cunt. They thrust and probed inside, while I groaned a happy response. His other hand began to probe my anus, first with one finger and then a second. I struggled to open for him, to relax the tight sphincter that always resisted such intrusion. I moaned several times when a sudden sharp pain leapt up. Again, I forced my body to relax.
“Better get used to it, I’m going to take you here,” he informed me – much to my surprise. His fingers probed me even deeper, wiggling nastily inside the unyielding space. This man of amazing gifts had stunned me once again and I was compelled to surrender, even if what he demanded of me was so difficult that I was sure to fail.
