To Seek a Master

by Monica Belle

  She complied, snivelling a little as she rolled her stockings down and off, but keeping her feelings of fear and resentment to herself. It was what she had wanted, what she had agreed to, no more, no less, while she knew she should be grateful for having had her bottom warmed first, and that for her to be caned in the nude was entirely appropriate. He waited until she was ready, then once more took her by the hand, this time to lead her into the necessary room and across to the whipping bench. When he spoke his voice was calm, quiet and level.

  ‘Do you accept my right to punish you, as I see fit?’

  The catch in Laura’s throat made her voice a hoarse whisper as she gave her answer.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I will give you six strokes of the cane, which will hurt. Do you want to be in straps?’

  Laura hesitated, wondering if she had the courage to go through with her punishment if she wasn’t restrained and deciding that she probably didn’t. He waited, moving her folded knickers to the top of his cage before she made her choice.

  ‘I think I’d better be, yes.’

  ‘As you wish. Kneel on the bench.’

  She obeyed, shaking badly as she climbed into position, with her knees on the lower of the padded surfaces and her body on the upper, which was short and sloped, leaving her bottom thrust high and open to his gaze, while her breasts hung down at the front. She braced herself, taking hold of the frame and looking back as he ducked down to put her in the black leather straps that hung from the device.

  He worked methodically, calm and unhurried as he locked her ankle securely into place, the strap snug to her flesh and the chain allow her to kick only slightly. Just to have a single strap fastening her to the whipping bench brought her feelings of helpless exposure to a new height, and higher still as each of her limbs was fixed securely to the heavy wooden bench, leaving her completely unable to protect herself. Last came the belly strap, a wide, padded piece that held her midriff firmly against the upper part of the bench and kept her bottom up and spread. She could feel the cool air on her anus and sex, while her trembling had grown so bad she felt she was close to panic, but she was now held tight and knew that even if she struggled she would be unable to escape what she craved and dreaded. He spoke again, as matter-of-fact as ever.

  ‘Do you want a gag? It is your choice.’

  Laura nodded urgently, desperate to be given the full six strokes no matter how much they hurt, but sure that she’d be begging him to stop after just one, which would ruin the experience. He moved to the rack by the door, lifting a curious device, a red ball with a slim leather strap at each side, plainly designed to go in her mouth, only to put it back and select a short length of rope instead as he spoke.

  ‘The ball gag would certainly shut you up, but as you are an old-fashioned girl I shall use an old-fashioned technique. Open wide.’

  He had picked up her knickers as he came back, balling them in his fist. Laura realised what he was going to do too late, her protest coming as a muffled sob as her expensive French knickers were wadded firmly into her mouth. Her sense of humiliation, already almost as much as she could cope with, grew stronger still as he tied the piece of rope off behind her head to hold her knickers in place. She could taste herself, a sharp reminder of her own excitement, and she was sobbing as she hung her head in shame and contrition, ready for the cane.

  Charles had walked back to the rack, and Laura watched in ever greater fear and consternation as he selected the dark crook handled cane, evidently a favourite. Her bottom tightened instinctively as he once more stepped close, and again as the thin cold rod was tapped to the meat of her cheeks. He lifted the cane, holding it high above his naked, vulnerable target, her stomach churning and her muscles twitching as she waited.

  ‘One.’

  The cane lashed down, landing full across Laura’s bottom, a heavy blow immediately followed by a stinging pain, for too strong for her to control, her legs kicking in the straps and her hips wriggling in a frantic, futile effort at escape as she wondered how she could ever have been stupid enough to want to endure such agony. She tried to speak through her mouthful of silk and lace, desperate for him to stop or at least wait, but he already had the cane lifted a second time.

  ‘Two.’

  Laura’s entire body jerked as the cane struck home for a second time, laying another line of fire across her bottom and sending her into a squirming, kicking frenzy.

  ‘Three.’

  Again the cane smacked down and she was sobbing through her gag and thrashing her ankles up and down in her straps.

  ‘Four.’

  Laura gave in completely, her body jerking without the slightest thought for anything save the pain of her punishment.

  ‘Five.’

  Another stroke, and even as her muscles locked in reaction she was thinking that there was only one more to go, and bracing herself.

  ‘Six.’

  The final stroke landed across Laura’s bottom, leaving her treading her knees in a little dance of pain for several seconds before her reaction finally cut in: remorse for her behaviour, joy for her repentance and a vast sense of gratitude to the man who had beaten her. She was still shaking uncontrollably, and her bottom seemed to be on fire, but as he knelt down to pull the knot holding her knickers into her mouth free and tug the soggy bundle out she could only find three words.

  ‘Please hold me.’

  He kissed her and went to work on her straps, quickly freeing her into his arms. She clung on, shaking, overcome by a sense of catharsis stronger by far than what she had experienced after her spanking. He began to stroke her hair and whisper into her ear, telling her how brave she was and urging her to let her feelings out. Laura didn’t need to be told, the tears streaming down her face, and as the pain of her welts began to fade to a dull heat her need began to flood back. She gave in immediately, sliding one hand back to touch the sensitive ridges of her welts and the other between her thighs to find her sex, without the slightest trace of shame for his presence or how open she was to him as she began to masturbate.

  16

  LAURA’S BOTTOM WAS decorated with five perfectly parallel, evenly spaced red lines, with a sixth laid across them at a diagonal, a pattern Charles had described as a ‘five-bar-gate’ which was his personal trademark. As she inspected herself in the bathroom mirror while Charles made the tea, she was feeling happier than at any time she could remember, and also immensely proud of herself and of her striped bottom.

  The caning itself had been an agonising ordeal, and she knew that she couldn’t possibly have taken it without being both strapped down and gagged, but the after effects were a very different matter and the orgasm she had brought herself to while he held her had been among the very best, leaving her weak but deliriously happy. Being caned was horrible, but having been caned was wonderful.

  She was walking with a deliberate sway to her hips as she made her way outside, still naked, and twirled to show off her bottom as she saw him. He had put out a pair of wrought iron chairs and a table covered with a white linen cloth and set for tea: china, silverware and a plate of biscuits and small yellow cakes. One of the chairs had a small cushion on it, which Charles indicated as she approached.

  ‘You’ll be needing that, I expect.’

  Laura returned a grin and sat down, lowering her bottom carefully onto the cushion. Her bruises ached even when standing, and being seated made them more tender still, keeping her firmly in mind of what had been done to her as she reached for the pot.

  ‘Shall I be mother?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘That was amazing, extraordinary. Thank you.’

  ‘Do you feel better for it?’

  ‘Yes, much better. I needed it, to punish me, but to get me off too if I’m honest. Now I feel as if I’m floating on air.’

  ‘I warn you, it’s addictive.’

  ‘I don’t care. I want more.’

  ‘Once a week is the maximum recommended dose. We need to keep that
pretty bottom in good condition, after all, and in-between times, you can be spanked.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Laura was smiling happily to herself as she completed the ritual of making the tea. Everything was perfect, sitting on her freshly caned bottom in the warm English sunlight in her lover’s garden, casually naked but safe from prying eyes, sipping tea, the only sounds birdsong and the distant rumble of a tractor. Work was a distant annoyance, her life as she had imagined it in her fantasies, with Charles as Mark Frobisher or another of the strong masculine heroes she adored. She sighed as she settled back into her chair. Charles raised his cup in salute.

  ‘I’m a lucky man. It’s not easy to find a woman like you. Now, how about dinner at the Eel Net this evening. It’s a little rustic, but the food’s good.’

  Laura walked swiftly through the twilight, guided by Charles’ arm towards the lights of a thatched pub that looked as if it had grown into place rather than been built. She was naked under her dress, and still so pleased with herself that she kept wanting to show her bottom to passers-by, which in turn kept her smiling and trying to suppress her giggles. Charles was enjoying the state she was in, teasing her by threatening to make her lift her dress to display herself to the locals, but not really succeeding as the thought delighted her. Only as they reached the door did he place a warning finger to his lips.

  ‘Not a word, remember. They all know me in here, but they do not know what I like to get up to, and I aim to keep it that way.’

  ‘Ah, just a quick flash, please?’

  ‘Behave.’

  He patted her bottom to guide her through the door, into a low yellow lit space, warm and loud with conversation. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of beer, but it was mingled with frying onions and steak, making her suddenly hungry. Charles made for the bar, nodding right and left to other customers and twice introducing her to those he knew by name. Laura responded with shy smiles, a little unsure of herself and more aware than ever of the way her dress allowed the shape of her breasts to show. The male customers seem to appreciate her, casting glances to her chest, some frank, some furtive, but she felt none of the rancour she would have for uninvited attention at other times, secure in the knowledge of Charles’ protection. He bought drinks and collected menus, taking both to a table in an alcove where they would be able to talk in reasonable privacy. Laura took a swallow of her wine.

  ‘They would like to see me, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘I expect they would, and why not?’

  ‘I’m yours, and yours alone now.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes! I don’t think I’ll be … be touching myself over other people again, not after the cane.’

  ‘I’m sure you won’t, but what if, let us say, they were holding a striptease competition here tonight and I wanted you to enter.’

  ‘I’d do it, but it would be for you.’

  ‘That’s a good answer, Laura. As I mentioned earlier, while society frowns upon corporal punishment, the same is not true, or at least it is less true, for exhibitionism. If I were to spank you now, for instance, I’m sure that several of these lads would come to your defence, and Jack, our host, might even threaten to call the police. On the other hand, if I were to make you eat your dinner with your breasts bare he would take it as a joke, although he would no doubt ask you to cover up.’

  ‘Do you want me to do it?’

  ‘No, not at present, although I might ask you to do similar things at times. That is the second of the three Ps, the desire to prove your devotion to me. I take it you have that?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’ll do anything you ask … within reason.’

  ‘No, Laura. You must do anything I ask, abdicating your responsibility completely. You must trust me to decide what is reasonable.’

  ‘What if you asked me to jump off a building?’

  ‘That would not be reasonable.’

  ‘OK, I think I understand, but I probably have a bit of a way to go yet. That’s the third P?’

  ‘Your desire to be my property.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It is within you, Laura, although you may not fully realise it yet, and it may be a while before you are able to accept your own need. When you do, I shall have you sign an agreement binding you to me and put you in a collar.’

  Doubtful, Laura quickly changed the subject.

  ‘So, what sort of thing will you want me to do to prove myself?’

  ‘We shall see. As I told you before, I won’t ask anything that would put your livelihood at risk, which is part of being responsible. I’ll email something to you on Monday, just to keep you on your toes, or maybe Tuesday.’

  ‘And it’s allowed to be exciting?’

  ‘It’s supposed to be exciting, but as with your discipline the pleasure may come later.’

  Laura purred to the sudden thrill of fear and longing triggered by his words. If the experience was even a fraction as intense as being given the cane it would be enough to keep her warm all week. He treated her to his devilish grin for her reaction and turned to the menu.

  ‘For now, let’s eat. The steak is good, local and properly hung, which is so rare nowadays.’

  ‘I’m worried that I’m going to put on weight, being with you.’

  ‘I have ways of controlling a girl’s weight, should it prove necessary.’

  ‘I bet you do.’

  ‘Jumping on the spot with a dog whip to encourage you if you slow down, for example.’

  ‘Ouch! I think I’ll have a salad.’

  ‘No, no. Have the steak, and that’s an order.’

  By the end of the meal Laura was sat back in her chair, one hand resting gently on her swollen tummy, the other holding her still half-full glass of the delicious sweet wine he had ordered to go with her sticky toffee pudding. It looked as if she might well end up on the gymnastics and dog whip diet, but for the time being she could barely move. Charles seemed unaffected, dabbing a serviette to his lips before speaking.

  ‘That was delicious. A coffee, perhaps, and then home.’

  Laura didn’t answer, content to follow his lead. He also paid without consulting her, something he seemed to take for granted, and once they had finished their coffee he offered his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her to her feet and guide her from the pub, with the landlord and several of the customers wishing them goodnight in tones Laura was sure held traces of both envy and smutty amusement.

  Outside the night was cool and still, the road a ribbon of dark gunmetal between high, black hedges and trees silhouetted against a starry sky. Charles put his arm around her waist, steering her back the way they had come, to where a stile led to a field now silvered by moonlight.

  ‘We’ll take the field path. The moon’s bright enough, and it’s a much more pleasant walk.’

  Laura bunched up her dress to cross the stile, her eyes still adapting to the dim light as she started cautiously along the footpath. Charles joined her, walking a little way before stopping to kiss her, then to speak.

  ‘A little modification, maybe.’

  He took hold of the front of her dress, tugging it down to spill out her bare breasts before adjusting each so that they sat, high and proud in a nest of cloth. The light was too dim to show the colour of her dress, but her breasts showed clearly, pale and bare, blatantly exposed if anybody happened to come the other way.

  ‘What if somebody sees?’

  ‘That’s not likely, but it is part of the fun.’

  ‘Shall I go naked? I’d like that, if you want me to.’

  ‘Best not. A bare bottom is one thing, a caned bottom quite another.’

  He took her hand once more, leading her back towards the cottage, very conscious of her naked chest and the playful thrill of being exposed. It was better even than in the train, because now she had nothing to cover herself at all, her bare breasts on show to anybody who happened to pass, while she had no say in who saw or what they thought of her. She imagined the landlor
d, Jack, coming after them, perhaps because one of them had left something behind, and catching her, maybe demanding a feel, only to stop herself as she remembered why she had been caned that afternoon.

  At the far side of the field a second stile led them to a grove of poplar where a narrow wooden bridge crossed a dyke. The trees hid the moon, creating a confusing pattern of shadows, so that Laura never realised that somebody was coming the other way until the wet sound of a footstep alerted her, immediately followed by a greeting and a muffled snigger as the stranger was given a full view of her bare white breasts. She paused in shock, meaning to cover herself, but Charles’ hand tightened on hers.

  ‘Oh no you don’t. You stay that way until we’re home.’

  ‘OK … I mean, yes Mr Latchley.’

  ‘That’s better. Now come to me, and put your hands on your head.’

  Laura cast a nervous glance in the direction they had just come, but the stranger was no more than a black mark some way across the field and she knew she was hidden by the trees. Putting her back to the hand rail of the bridge, she placed her hands on her head as Charles came close, to kiss her cheek, her mouth, and her breasts as he took one in each hand. Laura closed her eyes, shivering as her nipples were brought to erection between his lips and teeth, her feelings rising quickly until she was half hoping he’d bend her over the rail and take her from behind.

  ‘Make love to me.’

  ‘No.’

  He had pulled away, his hands still cupping her breasts, one thumb rubbing over each nipple.

  ‘Please.’

  ‘No. Now turn around.’

  Laura obeyed, unsure what was about to be done to her as she turned to face the railing, which pressed to her hips as she was pushed forwards. Her skirt was quickly turned up and her upper body bent over the rail, her breasts lolling forwards under her chest and her bare bottom thrust out towards him.

  ‘Stay still.’

  He moved away. Laura stayed as she was, wondering for a brief, awful moment if he might not have left her exposed for the next passer-by, only for him to return within seconds.