On a bright Saturday morning, Katia enjoys a leisurely shower while waiting for him to arrive. She lingers in the bathroom to dab on the perfume he likes, appraises her reflection in the mirror and feels the first lustful stirrings of desire disperse any lingering apprehension about her imminent sexual liaison. She wonders what he’ll do on this occasion; the combination of anticipation and memory of past encounters causes her to shiver with a mix of trepidation and good old-fashioned lust. This is their third meeting, each more intense than its predecessor and, Katia reflects, there was never a more willing submissive. She hears the key turn in the lock and familiar footfalls across the hall.
“This will be a relationship based on consensual coercion,” he’d explained at the beginning. If you liked your men good-looking and in excellent physical shape – as did Katia – then he ticked all the boxes. More importantly, he was a silver fox, a charming, amusing, and, above all intelligent companion, albeit directing their rendezvouses with consummate authority and the unspoken assumption she’d 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 yet, here was the paradox, strangely reassuring. Far from surrender being a problem, his autocratic direction offered the perfect way to realise her fantasies; left to her own devices she’d never have summoned the nerve.
“I’m here,” calls a resolute, unruffled voice. Her preparations complete, Katia walks downstairs to meet her visitor. Dignified and composed, a loosely fastened silk gown failing to conceal her curves, she moves across the lounge with fashion model-like grace and elegance. Wordlessly he sits on the sofa, enjoying the voyeuristic pleasure of perusing every inch of her body. Eschewing preliminaries and social niceties, he gets straight to business, reaches out and pulls her to him, tipping Katia unresisting, across his lap. No less than she expected; had he not done so her disappointment would have far outweighed any feeling of relief.
Methodically he spanks her, initially over her knickers and then, tugging the diaphanous nylon up into her bottom cleft, on trembling bare skin which quickly turns a fetching rose-pink. Breathe quickening, a series of involuntary cries escape Katia’s lips. Between chastening applications of his palm, her master allows interludes of respite. His hands delicately stroke and soothe the hot fullness of her buttocks, teasing and exploring the moistening gap between her legs. Holding her waist firmly, ignoring pleads for clemency, the Doctor then resumes spanking her backside to a glowing crimson.
Squirming across his knee, Katia knows better than to attempt escape and grips the sofa cushions tightly – kicking her feet while her bottom burns and stings. An unabashed carnality courses through her loins and Katia grinds her mons against the muscles of his thighs to heighten the sensation.
Once the alternating pattern of chastisement and caresses has been repeated several times he halts, and Katia’s knickers are drawn down to her knees. Momentarily his hands rest on the two burning globes. She meekly lets him open her thighs, mutely giving her tormentor permission to continue. His fingers spread her labia to reveal the promise within. Katia yelps with shock as something hard, smooth and spherical is insinuated deep into her vagina, a second object follows.
“Japanese love balls,” her Sir explains. “The more you wriggle the more they’ll stimulate you from inside.” Five minutes pass in a blur and as Katia’s arousal increases so does her capacity to endure an ever more exacting spanking. Any movement on her part lap sets the two balls in motion, sending waves of ardour pulsing through her body.
“Sit up,” he orders suddenly.
“Why?” Katia enquires instinctively, instantly regretting the perceived insolence of her question as her thighs are peppered with a volley of stinging slaps.
“You don’t learn very quickly,” he observes crossly, lifting Katia into a sitting position, knickers around her knees. Her lover tips Katia unceremoniously backwards and explores her pouting pussy. Fully exposed, she’s powerless to protest when he tugs the cord linking the two love balls, sending electric jolts of excitement through her erogenous zones. Laconically he manipulates her clitoris with his thumb while a finger teases her tightly puckered anus. Breathing heavily, dignity surrendered and hot and horny as hell, she urgently begs for release. “Please, finger me, let me come.”
“When I’m ready,” he replies, unflustered, still neatly attired in contrast to her dishevelment. Lifting Katia unsteadily to her feet the older man approvingly inspects her heat-radiating orbs. Grasping her hair, he kisses her long and hard, Katia responding vigorously, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. Without finesse he opens her gown, revealing pink nipples, erect and available, twisting and tormenting each hard protuberance, making Katia gasp and groan. She instinctively reaches for his swollen, rigid cock wrapping her fingers around the shaft and gently pulls it toward her glistening pussy.
“Not yet,” he cautions and slaps the underside of her exposed breasts, sardonically amused as they quiver with each cruel impact. Her sticky sex glistens, Katia’s traitorous libido revealing her readiness for penetration. He turns his attention to the front of her thighs. Enduring this latest onslaught, Katia senses a denouement is close.
Overtly challenging the last taboo, he softly spanks her pussy and then as requested, fingers her stinging vulva, hard and fast. The diabolical combination of love balls and pressure on her clitoris proves almost too much, but Katia’s desperate need to climax remains unfulfilled. Edged to the brink, but no further.
“Get dressed, we’re going out now,” he announces shortly. Knowing it is useless to demur, Katia sulkily obeys, and within minutes, she is sitting in his car with no idea of their destination. Desperately frustrated, she wonders what else she must endure today.
“Katia.”
Shaking her head, she struggles to focus on the present.
“Sorry,” Katia replies automatically.
“I said,” he repeats, smiling enigmatically, “we’re going for a woodland walk.” Then lowering his voice adds: “You won’t be requiring your knickers, please hand them to me.” Katia blushes vividly, and after minutes of furtive fumbling, twisting and turning, during which an adjacent van driver is treated to a flash of thigh and beyond, manages to inch the black lacy panties over her ankles and submissively pass them to him.
“Thank you,” he laughs, “I enjoyed watching that.” Minutes later they pull into a woodland car park. Very picturesque it is, too, although Katia is too worried to appreciate the sylvan surroundings. Fortunately, the woods seem deserted, save for a solitary dog-walker several hundred metres away. Katia winces as he squeezes each naked buttock through her skirt.
“Ow, don’t you think my poor bottom has suffered enough?” she complains.
“I’ll take that as a rhetorical question,” he answers, grasping her elbow and departing from the sunny main path to a darker, less well-used track. “They’ve planted some saplings in this section,” he continues,” just the thing for my experiment.” Stopping, he examines a thin, supple branch. “A definite possibility,” her man muses, reaching into his pocket for a penknife and cutting a metre-long wand.
Katia looks concerned, “Experiment, with that?”
“Exactly,” he confirms. Deftly stripping off the leaves to leave a pliant switch. Katia shivers as the whippy switch whistles through the air. “This is ash, there’s hazel and birch over there. The experiment being, which is the better to thrash you with?”
“So, we cut a bundle, take them home and I experience each of them?” Katia guesses.
“Not quite,” he smiles. “We’ll try each in situ – alfresco.”
“Here, in public? People might see and… “
“True, adds to the spice, doesn’t it?” he interrupts. “So, bend over and touch your toes, my dear.” Katia looks around; thankfully, there’s not a soul in sight; she bends, gasping as her skirt is lifted.
“Oh no!” This alarm at the unexpected baring of her bottom ends abruptly when the first searing cut bisects Katia’s still rosy cheeks. A line of pain, quite unlike either the cane or crop, both of which she is intimately acquainted with, takes her voice away. She rocks, gripping her ankles for support as another equally agonising stroke lands a centimetre or two below the first. “Ow!” she wails.
“Shush, have some consideration,” he chides. “People come here for quiet. Still, I see what you mean, that did make a livid mark. Two strokes will suffice for the moment.”
He strides ahead leaving Katia to stagger stiffly after him, rubbing her seared seat. The hazel is, if anything, worse. Two more cuts are etched into her overheated bottom, leaving Katia with burning stripes, tears in her eyes and a woebegone expression.
“Just the birch to follow.” Fortunately, he’s skilful enough not to overlap the final two strokes across earlier weals. Equally luckily, Katia catches a glimpse of movement and manages to stifle her cry of distress into a cough, lurching upright as an elderly woman appears, walking what seems to be a rat on stilts.
“Morning,” the doctor hails her affably, stick in hand.
“Morning,” replies the woman warily, giving Katia an enquiring look as she passes.
“It hurts,’ whispers Katia, “even walking is sore.”
“Yes, perhaps a tad more severe than I’d expected,” the man is unapologetic. “The question is which to choose, any preference? The birch spreads its favours too widely,” he continues, ignoring her sulky silence, “whereas the hazel cuts cruelly. Best stick with the ash.” He might, thinks Katia petulantly, be debating an academic matter for all the consolation she’s getting. Whatever next, she wonders as they walk back to the car. Sadly, it is not the sexual release she craves, delayed until her return home and the self-help attentions of her favourite vibrator.
On Sunday afternoon Katia is summoned to join him on another car journey. Sir arrives promptly outside her flat, nodding approval as Katia walks delicately to the car in unaccustomed high heels.
“Hop in,” he says by way of welcome, the mere sound of his voice sufficient to send a shiver of pleasure down Katia’s spine. Despite being taught to enter a car decorously, when she swings in her legs Katia’s tightly belted raincoat parts to reveal she wears little underneath. A momentary glimpse of pale stockings, taut black suspenders, and a carefully depilated pussy. A fine silver chain circles her waist, beautiful breasts braless beneath a black silk chemise.
“You look enchanting,” he says, Katia glows at the compliment. Fleetingly he lays a proprietorial hand on her thigh before, to Katia’s regret, moving it to shift the car into gear. “It seems discipline has demonstrably improved your demeanour, so today we’ll explore other erotic delights.
“It’s true,” she agrees. “I’m often scared, usually suffer, but never unsatiated, until yesterday.”
“Your carnal needs will be met, I promise,” he responds as they drive out into the countryside. “However, I intend to test your obedience to the limit. Our current situation is too cosy. By the way, henceforth you may call me James.”
Feeling as if she has passed some sort of test, Katia is on an emotional edge, meek obedience has become her default position. Not once does it occur to her to question, negotiate, or simply ignore his instructions. Half an hour later James swings the vehicle into a tree-lined drive, halting in front of a country house. Striding around to the passenger side he helps Katia out.
“Go on in,” James gestures, following her inside the echoing atrium to unlock a stout oak door in the far corner of the entrance hall. Carefully descending a spiral staircase to what was once the cellar, Katia discovers it transformed into a modern-day dungeon.
“We have the uninterrupted use of these facilities for the entire day,” James answers her unvoiced question. “As you can see, it’s fully equipped.” This is something of an understatement; ceiling and floor rings for securing hands and feet, whipping cross and vaulting horse with ankle and wrist restraints. A bed, footstools, chaise and bolsters afford any penitent position one might imagine. A capacious wardrobe contains rows of neatly hung costumes. “All the clichés; maid, nurse, air hostess… lots of leather.” At ease with the surroundings, James opens a blanket chest and Katia looks inside. Her blood races at the sight of neatly arranged tawses and straps, crops and martinets, whips and paddles. Canes of varying size and thickness, plus a bundle of birch twigs – not something she cares to suffer again after yesterday. “You’re not saying much,” he prompts.
“I don’t know what to say. You hinted at something special, but this is extraordinary and intimidating.”
“Think of it as a taster session, I don’t intend to tie you to every piece of apparatus, nor flog you with every implement,” he explains. “You’re free to leave at any time but choose to stay and you must defer to me always.” Up until this moment, Katia’s heart has been beating furiously, fuelled by a melange of adrenalin and anxiety. These bewildering emotions are now replaced by a feeling of calm certainty. There’s no need to debate her decision; she need only remain in the moment.
“I choose to stay,” she states plainly.
“Wonderful,” his pleasure is evident. Stepping behind her, James slides the raincoat from Katia’s shoulders and leads her to the centre of the floor, where two loops of soft rope hang from sturdy hooks in the ceiling.
“Reach up,” he commands, binding each wrist until she’s stretched aloft, allowing the cord to take just a little of her weight, bound and helpless. Sliding a hand up each stockinged leg he nudges her feet outwards until the apex of her thighs down to the teetering heels forms an inverted V, then binds her ankles with two more strands to rings in the floor.
Katia has an adrenaline rush when he delicately lifts the chemise to free her breasts. Deft fingers tweak her nipples, which stiffen in response. Hands cup each soft globe, and his chest presses into her back, Katia sways, arching her body, pushing her buttocks towards his insistent erection, he can smell the scent of her arousal. As if from the perspective of a spectator, she hears herself utter a deep groan of pure animal lust.
“Bad girl,” growls a stern voice. “Have you any idea what a lewd exhibition you’re making?” James blindfolds her with a length of black silk. All too briefly his lips brush her earlobe, she stiffens, then shouts in shock as his hand repeatedly slaps her bare buttocks without warning. Her poor bottom throbs, until gradually the sensation becomes a glowing warmth. Katia senses him kneeling, her sex throbs with expectation, and this time it isn’t neglected.
Roughly, James grasps her hips and laps at her damp pubic mound. Minutes pass blissfully, she groans delightedly, forcing her hips forward to relish his probing tongue circling her engorged clitoris, pushing rudely between her labia, adeptly teasing the soft folds. Katia moans and implores, desperately seeking a long-denied climax. Then suddenly he’s gone, leaving her aching and empty, frustrated and craving. Petulantly she struggles against her bonds.
“You aren’t permitted to move,” admonishes a noticeably colder voice.
“How could I not, with you tonguing me?” Her words hang in the air, affording her ample time to regret them. She hears him move away, a faint rustling sound, then another long silence, during which every muscle of her body tightens. She waits, tense with apprehension recognising the crop immediately, by the sound as the leather slaps into her right buttock, by the feel of the sharp, linear sting. Three more perfectly horizontal strokes land, pale flesh quivering as each impact indents her flawless skin.
Mercifully James halts, enabling Katia to catch her breath, while a deep, burning smart spreads across her involuntarily twitching buttocks. Next, the tip of the crop flicks the underside of her sex-swollen breasts, marking them with angry red blotches. She cries out, twisting on the rope in a useless effort to escape.
Then silence, darkness; breasts and buttocks stinging madly, craving gentle touches that never come, Katia is no longer startled when the chastising crop revisits her hindquarters. Damn, Katia thinks, he’s certainly laying it on, employing the entire springy length of the shaft to make her firm mounds glow hot and sore. Next strokes to the fronts of her legs, leaving stripes visible through the welts of her stocking tops.
Time ceases to have meaning, James might and perhaps will continue indefinitely. Katia has no protection other than an abiding trust in his awareness of her limits. Her hips jerk and weave in a frantic dance of despair.
“Please,” Katia begs, glistening tears running from beneath the blindfold, heels tap-dancing a staccato protest, massively sexually aroused despite the livid red lines now marking her legs and buttocks.
James frees her ankles, unties Katia’s wrists and makes her squat. Holding her hair, he insinuates his cock between rouged lips, urging her to accommodate his erection in her warm mouth. Anxious to please, she expertly works his cock, head bobbing, licking and sucking, the sensations are exquisite and it’s all James can do to hold back from coming. Katia’s jaws are aching when James eventually lifts her upright and propels her across the room to kneel obediently, head down and buttocks raised on the bed, gaping labia pouting in implicit invitation. Renouncing foreplay, her chosen master enters her cunt without subtlety, holding her hips and sinking the full length of his member deep into Katia’s velvet slot.
Their encounter has become a delicate balance of trust and risk, each actively or passively vying for control. After only a few of James’ vigorous thrusts, the experience of being taken from behind in this assertive manner tips Katia into a long-awaited and very noisy orgasm.
Somehow James heroically manages to hold on and pushes her face down on the bed. Dazed by the sheer force and intensity of his domination, she can only whimper helplessly as a probing finger smears lubricant around her anus, searching out her rosebud to prepare the small opening for something of greater girth. Despite the insistent invasion, waves of pleasure soon pulse through Katia’s plundered portal. His digit is suddenly removed, instantly replaced by Jame’s cock, slowly sliding into her sublimely tight rear passage, Katia surrendering to the inevitable as James leisurely fucks her bottom, in and out, gradually pushing his length a tiny bit deeper.
“So wonderful,” she gasps, “don’t slow down, come in me.”
Both have entered a contradictory realm of the senses, simultaneously both present, yet also floating out of their bodies. Rhapsodically embedded in her asshole and unable to hold out a second longer James gives a guttural cry and orgasms, triggering a similarly abandoned and noisy crescendo in Katia. Thighs trembling, she squirts uninhibitedly in the throes of climax, love juices mingling with James’ jizz leaking from her perfectly reamed arse.
Later, Katia – flushed and dreamy – drinks red wine; her lower body sore from the aftermath of his attentions, aching orifices throbbing with the consummation of their passion. She’ll walk stiffly tomorrow and have marks for days, wincing when she sits, then smiling conspiratorially as she recalls the reasons for her blissfully satiated state.
“What are you thinking?” James enquires.
“About our wicked weekend,” Katia replies wistfully. “I suppose it’s back to real life now,” she adds, voice tinged with regret.
“We can create our own reality,” James intimates the prospect of future debauchery, “if you’d like?”
Katia answers without hesitation: “More than anything.”
The next day at work, Katia gingerly slides behind her desk, bottom still tender beneath her skirt.
“Get up to anything exciting at the weekend?” enquires a colleague.
“You’d be surprised,” replies Katia, smiling contentedly.
