Maggie knew she had to comply, he didn’t issue idle threats, not in that tone of voice anyway; and for her own sake she needed to say this quickly or she’d lose her nerve completely.
“I’d like a day of control, I’d like you to give me six of the best on the hour, every hour, I want to be naked all day. I... I... want you to make me submit, submit totally to you and then I want to come but only when you’re sure I’m truly submissive and a good girl.”
Michael knew what it cost her to ask this and in this language; but he still wasn’t entirely satisfied with her.
“I’m going to grant your request, but with a few additions.” He heard her swallow at the end of the line. “You won’t be naked all day, you’ll be accompanying me out for a drink at lunch time, you’ll be specially attired for that trip. It won’t be six strokes every hour but various combinations of strokes and implements between six and thirty-six. Finally, I decide if you get to come, not you. It there has been even the slightest hint of rebellion from you, your orgasm will be withheld. Do you agree?” He waited and had no doubt of her response.
“Yes, Sir.”
“In that case I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Maggie. Sweet dreams.” He said, with a loving caress and hung up.
Neither Maggie nor Michael mentioned the conversation again. They chatted every day as usual; both seemed perfectly capable of separating this part of their relationship from everything else in their lives. But hovering around the edges of both psyches was how this day would go.
Michael picked Maggie up from the airport on Good Friday and they drove back to his house. As they were getting out of the car he remarked casually to her, “It will be Easter Sunday.” She nodded her head.
He was out of bed before her on Easter morning. She could hear him moving around and then suddenly the duvet was whisked off the bed. He hauled her out and deposited her roughly on the carpet. She was face down with her arse stuck out behind her and her knees splayed wide. Without warning she screamed as a stroke blazed across her backside. Her best guess was the wooden paddle. The second stroke knocked her further forward and she shrieked again, pressing her face into the Axminster. Because her legs were spread so widely and he was delivering downward strokes he was almost spanking her sex as well. The six blows left her shivering and with adrenalin pumping through her system. She waited, her whole body quivering.
He pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her to the living room. He bent her backwards over the ironing board so she had no choice but to look directly at him. “Be still!” he commanded. Then grasping both nipples he worked them severely between his fingers until she wanted to cry out for him to stop; but she didn’t dare. All the while he gazed into her eyes. Suddenly he stopped and naturally she wanted him to keep the sweet torture going.
“Go to the bathroom, sort yourself out and come straight back here.” He let her up and gave her a slap on the rear to speed her up.
‘You wanted this, Maggie’ she said to herself, gazing in the mirror and brushing her teeth ‘You bloody well asked for it and you’ll have to go through with it.’ She’d already noted that he hasn’t touched her sex. She returned to the living room.
“Sit down, remain silent, I’ll bring you breakfast.” He brought her fruit , yogurt and muesli. She ate and waited. He didn’t speak again until it approached 10am.
“Come here”. She obeyed.
There were two ceramic bowls on top of the ironing board.
“Take a piece of paper from each bowl.” She did so and handed them to him.
“Twelve with my slipper,” he told her.“Bend over.”
She bent obediently, almost gratefully over the ironing board. She loved being slippered and when the first whack landed she groaned and wasn’t sure if it was pain or pleasure. By the end of the dozen though, it was definitely pain. She held the edge of the board and sealed her lips to its surface to stop her wailing aloud. He usually took her in his arms after a punishment but this time she was thrust back onto the sofa and her stinging pulsing bottom was given no gentle caress.
“Stay there,” he said, and turned on the Archers Omnibus for her.
At 11am she had six with the black paddle and at noon 24 with the cane. This brought her to a state of near collapse. Usually she only had 6 when she was caned but 24 had been pulled out of the bowl so she had to bear it. He showed no leniency and lashed her hard. Maggie desperately wanted to be held and kissed but knew this wouldn’t be allowed until much later. When he put her back on the sofa she tried to keep her buttocks slightly off the seat and when he noticed he pressed her shoulders back and gripped her nipples again. He manipulated them until she wanted to get on her knees and beg forgiveness for her boldness. She was so swollen and wet with desire she thought she might come if he continued his attention to her breasts. He stopped abruptly and left her gasping “If I see you try to avoid sitting again you will have forfeited your orgasm, not just for today but for the rest of this visit.”
As it approached 1pm he called her into the bedroom. “You’re getting a break, in one way at least.” He pointed to a box on the bed. “Open it, read the instructions and fit yourself with it. Then come to me.”
It was a remote controlled butterfly vibrator. She read the leaflet and attached the small box-like device over her clitoris. She returned to the living room and handed him the remote control.
He handed her a loose dress. “Put it on but no knickers, no bra, no makeup or jewellery, brush your hair back and put it in a ponytail.” When she had followed his instructions and stood demurely in front of him he said, “Right, we’re going to the Red Lion for a drink, we’ll sit outside in the sun on one of their nice hard benches. I have the remote control in my pocket, if you orgasm at any point I’ll bring you straight back here and you’ll have 36 with the dressage whip.”
Maggie’s stomach clenched. She knew her desire to avoid that punishment was greater than her need to come, she hated the dressage whip. She had no idea what the butterfly would feel like. She stopped in her tracks when just outside the front door Michael turned it on for the first time. Her breathing became immediately heavy and fast and seconds later she felt the orgasm gather behind her pubic bone. She gripped his hand tightly and he turned the machine off. She had to hold on to him for support and was horrified at how quickly she had nearly failed his test. He smiled at her and holding her hand walked down the path towards the pub. Just as they approached the pub door she knew he’d turned the devilish machine on again and she had to stop abruptly and press her thighs tightly together to lift the pressure slightly from her clitoris. He turned it off.
“Have a seat in the sun, sweetie,” he said cruelly. “I’ll get the drinks.” She sat gingerly on the bench. Her bottom was so sore the hard wood surface was torture. As Michael walked towards her carrying two G&Ts in one hand she saw the other slip in to his pocket and immediately her back was rigid with the effort to stop coming. He turned it to a higher level and she knew she was on the edge, another second and it would be too late. “Please...” she looked up at him her eyes brimming with tears. The machine stopped and she continued to hold herself taut for several seconds just to make sure she wouldn’t tip over.
“Good girl,” his hand patted her knee. “Having a nice time?” he asked. Making every effort she nodded and smiled, “Excellent.” Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’ve missed two beatings. You won’t be missing any more. Is your bottom sore?” She nodded “Is your clitoris swollen? She blushed and nodded again. Sitting back he said, “I think I’ll go and get us some icecream. You guard the drinks, sweetie.” The icecream cart was nearby and then she realised why he’d done this; so he could play with the damnable remote control and watch her struggle with herself from a slight distance. He was almost rhythmically turning the butterfly on and off. Maggie gripped the edge of the bench and hunched over slightly, this seemed to give her a few seconds grace. Then Michael was back with the icecream. “Eat up sweetie and let’s go home.”
Back In the living room he removed the dress and the butterfly “Now let me make sure you haven’t come,” he said, and holding her lower lips apart he probed her clitoris. “No, this little clit hasn’t come in quite some time. And it’s going to be several hours yet.” And he cruelly ran the pad of his thumb over the very ridge of her clitoris and she moaned and instinctively bent her body away from him. “Don’t you dare move away from me,” he snapped. “Over the ironing board now. You don’t get to choose, it’s 36 this time and we’ll have your favourite, the tawse.”
Maggie’s mouth opened and her tongue came to rest behind her front teeth. The tawse was her favourite but she’d never had more than a dozen with it before. Then remembering that he was only doing what she’d asked him to, she placed herself over the ironing board, closed her eyes and waited. She didn’t have long, the first stoke just licked along the underside of her buttocks. Michael then proceeded to tawse every square inch of her backside. Maggie was sobbing almost uncontrollably when he had finished. With an effort she hoisted herself a couple of inches so she was lying totally over the ironing board, her whole weight resting on it, her arms and legs flopped loosely, she knew the Rubicon had been crossed, she no longer had any will of her own, she was utterly submissive and waited for his word.
“Get up, Maggie.” He commanded, but gently. He placed a finger under her chin and looked into her face and smiled. “You have two more beatings to come. I’m going to put the lamb in the oven, we’ll have dinner when I’m sure you deserve it.” He moved towards the kitchen and she sat down. When he returned he said, “Who gave you permission to sit?”
“No... no one, Sir.”
“Indeed! On your feet!” She stood and then suddenly, knowing that it would please him she knelt, “I’m sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.”
He nodded, “Okay then, but you’re going over the stool until the end of your punishment.” He kicked a very large footstool out and positioned it in front of his seat where she was kneeling. “Over you go”. She positioned her stomach on the stool and let her limbs relax. He moved around sorting out the dinner and she had no idea how time was passing until he said, “Let’s get your penultimate out of the way, Maggie. You’ve got thirty with the birch. Stay where you are.” Out of nowhere she heard the birch swish through the air and felt it connect with her arse. The twigs spread out and while he wasn’t being too hard, her bottom was so sore from the previous punishments, she squealed. He walked round her, birching her from every angle, it was exquisite torment and she writhed over the stool.
When he had exhausted himself on her backside he came round and sat on the carpet beside her looking at her tear stained face. “Have you any idea how delicious you look?” He asked her. She shook her head. “So good that I should punish you further for leading me astray,” he chuckled.
Suddenly he seemed to pull himself together and his tone changed to ice. “Stop that wriggling around Maggie. Control yourself!” She stopped immediately. “Don’t move for the next hour. If you can remain at peace I’ll give you six with the riding crop and that’s it over. If I catch you squirming you’ll have the 18 you’re due and I will show you no mercy. Understand?” She nodded. He leaned over and kissed her ever so gently; she burst into fresh sobs but kept herself still. He seemed satisfied. Maggie wanted so much to please him she lay compliant over the stool and concentrated on holding herself still. It wasn’t easy, her backside was glowing and felt huge and between her legs was dripping wet. She could also smell the lamb cooking and her mouth watered.
After a while Michael came and sat in front of her again. “Well, my lovely girl,” he said, kissing her softly. Maggie felt the tears well up again. “Ah, I’m just being cruel,” he breathed in her ear. “You’ve been very good and I think you’re very nearly done, aren’t you?” He reached round and slipped two fingers inside her. “Yes, nicely done, very well basted, a bit like the lamb really.” He stood up swiftly and left the room, returning with the riding crop. He stroked her face with it and her whole body quaked with fear and desire.
The first stroke swept across her arse and she screamed. Her palms came flat to the floor and she pushed her body upwards, almost in supplication and the second blow landed right across the middle of her buttocks. Every blow made her arch herself higher until she was on her tip toes and fingers.
“Stay there,” he said, then she smelt and felt cooling witch hazel being dabbed on her arse with cotton wool. “Stand up, girl.” She obeyed. “Now I would get you to lie on your back and spread your legs for me but for the sake of your poor bottom I’m going to be a lenient lord. Bend over the arm of the sofa.” She obeyed with dread; did this mean there was more punishment to come? “Now you have full permission to wriggle as much as you like,” he laughed at her. Pushing her down a bit further so her bottom splayed out he reached beneath her and circled her clitoris with his thumb. Her breath caught in her throat, she felt him lightly kiss the back of her neck while continuing to circle. She knew she would come in seconds. The gasps came from deep inside her and she spasmed round his fingers and bucked under his thumb. When she was sated he lent some of his weight on her and idled with her nipples for a while. They were so sensitive she could feel another orgasm begin to build. He stopped at once.
“You will remain obedient for the rest of the evening. Your official punishment might be over but an adhoc beating is never out of the question.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Now let’s get my little Easter Bunny some food.” He kissed her hard and she thrilled as the loving lilt in his voice proved she had met with his approval at last.
