by Loki Renard
“Gentle? I don’t think so.”
“I’ve paddled your bottom and hardly anything more,” he said. “But I have much more planned for you, Sarah.”
There was a dark promise in his voice that made her shiver with excitement. There was so much more to be explored, she could feel it as if it were a tangible thing.
“The crate,” she said. “What is that for?”
“Well, it can be a lot of things,” he said, letting his hand brush gently against her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple. “It can be a place of punishment, or it can be somewhere for a pet to relax and feel safe, depending on the context and the person.”
“I don’t think I’d like it,” she said, her words belied by the little tingles of excitement that raced around in her belly as she thought about what it might be like to be inside that big crate, unable to leave it until she was released. Imprisoned.
“I think you might,” Austin said. “You have a taste for the perverse.”
“A taste for the perverse?” Sarah laughed. “What is that even supposed to mean?”
“That means I have no doubt that you will be eager to follow where I want to lead you.”
It was a pity they were no longer in a room by themselves, because Sarah was getting wet at the mere thought of hints of things Austin might do with her and to her. Her arousal did seem a little perverse, as Austin had called it, only because it came from thinking about the things her logical mind assured her she would not enjoy. Who could possibly enjoy being at the disciplinary mercy of three men, and, now that she thought about it, Rebecca probably too? Anyone who held a leash seemed to have a position of authority in that house.
“Wait…” Sarah spoke suddenly. “Does that mean… you discipline other people too?”
“Well,” Austin said. “I have in the past, yes. But judging by the expression on your face, I don’t imagine I will in the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you practically just turned green,” he said, smiling. “My jealous little pet.”
“I don’t like sharing,” Sarah said. “And I don’t like to be shared either.”
“But the idea of being held to account by more than one person is exciting to you.”
He said it as a statement, apparently knowing it was true.
“Well, maybe,” she admitted. “But that’s not fair, is it.”
“Life is never fair,” Austin said, cuddling her close. “Besides, I have my hands full with you. I have no need to be disciplining others. Whereas you…”
“Me what?”
“You might very well benefit from a community-based approach.”
Sarah laughed. “I am not that bad.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not bad at all. You’re new, and you’re curious and I can already see those thoughts of yours taking you down a road where you’re going to find trouble.”
“That’s not true,” Sarah lied, cuddling close to him in an effort to hide her feelings in their proximity.
“Mhm.” He held her close and their conversation faded a little as they took in the goings-on in the room. Anastasia had gravitated back to Robert. Rebecca and her partner Chase were cuddling together and Sybil and Hannah were draped over Earnest looking as happy and smug as two cats bathing in cream.
“Would Sarah like the special tour?” Anastasia and Robert were suddenly in front of them, looking somewhat smug and inviting, as if they had a surprise in store. Sarah looked at Austin, who nodded.
“Oh, I think she’d very much enjoy that,” Austin said.
Sarah was not looking forward to hearing about where they got their faucets from and who did the floors, but it turned out that the special tour was not so much a tour of the house as it was a direct route to the kitchen, where a door led to steps, which led to a basement, which in most people’s homes would have held some forgotten hobby supplies and maybe a boiler, but which under Anastasia and Robert’s home housed a full-fledged dungeon. Purple carpet covered the floor, and atop it were arranged some of the most lavish and complex pieces of equipment Sarah had ever laid eyes on in her life. There were tables with stirrups and padded horses and whips and crops and paddles galore on the walls.
“What do you think, Sarah?” Robert asked the question.
“I think this is where you got your judging skills from,” she said. “It’s practically medieval.”
Robert chuckled softly. “You got no more than you deserved back then, though I admit, if I could have sentenced you to a good swift caning instead of three days in jail, I would have.”
Sarah gulped as she tried to digest that information and failed. In the meantime, Robert had escorted them all to a big St. Andrew’s cross, which was essentially a large elongated X-shaped piece of wood complete with shackles at the ends of each of its arms.
“Would you like to try it, Sarah?”
“Me?” Sarah squeaked. “Oh, no, I couldn’t…”
Austin ran his hand down her back and murmured a word or two of encouragement in her ear, which made Sarah bite her lower lip and eye the cross up curiously. It was not in her nature to say no to new experiences, but this one really did seem to be out of her depth.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I will try it, but I don’t want any pain.”
That statement made a ripple of amusement pass through the group.
“Step up to the cross,” Austin said, guiding her forward. She found herself standing up against it, raising her arms toward the shackles. The whole affair was tilted slightly back, so she could lean some of her weight against it, which made things a little more comfortable as Austin’s capable hands fastened the leather cuffs about her wrists.
She gave an experimental tug, and discovered that she was indeed stuck. The revelation made a little jolt of adrenaline flow through her, but she was quickly distracted by Austin’s fingers at the hem of her skirt, hiking it up over her bottom so her heated cheeks were exposed to Robert and Anastasia as well.
“Hey!”
“Shhh,” Austin said, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of her neck. “You’re among friends, remember?”
“Oh, my,” Anastasia said. “He really did spank you, didn’t he.”
This was not how Sarah had anticipated the night going. Naked with Austin, yes. Naked with Austin and a judge and his wife… not so much.
Why was she allowing this? Austin ran his hand over her bottom lightly and she remembered. Because of him. Because of the thrill she felt whenever he took control and led her to places she had never imagined, like this elegant basement in the middle of suburbia where well-heeled people played out fantasies behind closed doors.
Austin’s fingers were tracing over her cheeks, soft possessive passes over reddened skin. Sarah could feel the eyes of the little group upon her. She wondered what they were thinking. Anastasia seemed to be admiring the color of her bottom, but what thoughts was the good judge entertaining?
She could faintly hear footfalls upstairs, reminding her that the gathering was still in session.
Austin’s hand landed against her bottom in a firm, unexpected swat that made her squeak and rise onto her toes, pulling at the restraints. There was nowhere to go. They held entirely firm as Austin plied his palm against her bottom, reigniting the earlier heat.
“She takes it well.”
That was Robert’s voice. The judge was in session.
“That’s because she likes it.” Anastasia was playful. “Because Austin is holding back.”
“Quiet in the cheap seats!” Sarah threw the words over her shoulder. They earned her a harder slap.
“Quiet, my pet,” Austin said. “You’re supposed to be displaying your obedience…”
“…or lack thereof,” Anastasia giggled from behind. She really was an awful tease. Sarah turned her head as far as she could and stuck her tongue out at the beautiful blonde. Anastasia made the gesture right back, which resulted in her own backside being swatted.
�
�You know what,” Robert said with a hard look at his wife. “I think you should let Sarah out of those restraints and I think I should put this one in them.”
Anastasia beamed at the prospect, clearly relishing the idea. Austin loosened the wrist straps and let her hands slide out. She was swept into his arms and taken to the side while Robert unzipped Anastasia’s dress. She had not been wearing anything under it. Her sybaritic body came into view as the silver sheath fell, her round bottom and neat breasts exposed for all to see. She sashayed to the cross with apparent eagerness and presented her wrists for the binding.
Robert’s expression of pride was unmistakable, as was the ridge in his pants. He bound her wrists with the swiftness that could only come with experience. Anastasia let out a sound like a purr as he ran his hands from her wrists, down her arms, over her back, and to her buttocks where he slapped both of them.
“Hand me my flogger, would you, Austin?”
Austin picked up a most intimidating piece of equipment, a four-foot-long leather flogger with many dozens of leather strands attached. It looked like something out of a medieval film, the sort of implement that might have been used on recalcitrant women for hundreds of years. The sight of it made Sarah shrink into Austin’s arms, but Anastasia arched her bottom out, welcoming it.
Robert began to spin the flogger, making the ends of the lashes cut through the air. He slowly brought it close to the rounds of her cheeks until it began to catch her skin on every circular stroke, swatting her backside with a dozens upon dozens of slim leather tongues. The result was a hot pink blush punctuated by little welts as the session drew on.
It looked as though it would have to hurt, but Anastasia clearly wasn’t registering pain. Her feet were together and her bottom arched out as far as it would go, the shaved smooth pouch of her pussy and the little dark bud of her bottom both visible as she was swatted. Sarah marveled at how little shame Anastasia seemed to have. Her eyes were half closed as she sank into the pleasure of the sensation, a greedy little pout on her face as Robert expertly handled the lash.
Sarah was thoroughly transfixed by what she was seeing. She had forgotten her shyness and her shock and was instead caught up in the erotic play before her, every landing of the lash sending a frisson of excitement through her even though it was not her bottom so boldly displayed, nor her pussy lips gleaming with liquid lust.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured with soft reverence. “It’s… it’s beautiful…”
“It is,” Austin agreed, his arms tight around her as he held her close.
Robert soon began to change the method of his mission. He swung the flogger harder so it landed with a heavier, meatier sound. He also began to pick different spots for his attentions. Not content with focusing entirely on Anastasia’s bottom, he also flogged her upper thighs, spreading the blushing heat to a greater area.
“Mnnnggg…” Anastasia made a sound somewhere between pleasure and pain. Her high-heel-clad feet began to shift in response to the harder, bolder strokes, as if she perhaps wanted to avoid some of them, but was too obedient to shrink from her master’s discipline.
The scene went on timelessly, the landing of the lash like the ticking of an unseen clock. Each stroke took Anastasia closer to her limit. Sarah knew hers would have been found long ago, but Anastasia seemed almost endlessly eager for discipline.
There was a light sheen of sweat on Robert’s forehead, testament to his exertions. There was no doubt in Sarah’s mind that Anastasia was receiving a proper flogging. This was as real as it got; heated skin and raised welts that bore yet more punishment.
Anastasia was not crying or complaining. She looked thoroughly content, her eyes almost entirely closed, her expression almost one of repose. Sarah had seen few people look so very peaceful in her life. Even catatonic drunks had more tension in their bodies than Anastasia did at that moment.
“Is she okay?” Sarah whispered the question to Austin.
“She’s going deep into what they call subspace,” he replied. “She’s fine. Robert knows just how far to go.”
The session continued a little longer, but as Anastasia began to show signs of fatigue, Robert let her out of her restraints and sat down with her in his lap, cradling her close as she nuzzled into his neck, her eyes closed. She didn’t seem to be aware of anyone else in the room anymore. Her reaction was akin to someone coming out of the effects of an intense psychedelic. If Sarah had not seen the process herself, she would have been certain that Anastasia had been slipped something.
“Let’s leave them be,” Austin murmured softly, drawing Sarah away.
“Is that what you want to do to me?” She asked the question as they left the playroom and ascended the stairs to the kitchen.
“Don’t look so scared,” Austin said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “When you’re ready, you’ll welcome that and much more.”
It was as Austin had said, she was curious. She had never been able to turn down a new experience and now she was standing on the precipice of something so new, so thoroughly unexpected she could hardly believe it.
Chapter Five
“Was any of that real?” It was the next day, they were eating breakfast, and Sarah was still trying to process what she had seen and experienced. In the light of day, it really seemed very farfetched that she had seen a judge’s wife shackled and flogged to ecstasy, much less experienced a milder version of the treatment herself.
“It was all real,” Austin reassured her.
“You have some secrets, don’t you, mister,” Sarah said playfully. “A whole clan of high-powered kinky pet players hiding in the midst of good and honest working folk.”
“The best secrets are the ones out in the open for anyone to find,” Austin replied. “I don’t hide what I am. Neither do the others. We are what we are.”
“Judge Robert never showed up to court with Anastasia on a leash,” Sarah pointed out.
“He doesn’t need to. He has her under what they call effective voice control,” Austin winked.
He was speaking playfully, but what he was saying was probably true. Sarah could not get the image of Anastasia’s naked form out of her head, writhing under the flogger as her husband and master pleasured her with an instrument of discipline.
The image stayed with her for much of the day and followed her into her studio, where she found that inspiration was no longer lacking. She was brimming with it, and color and form soon followed, taking shape on the canvas in a way that evoked the intensity of the experience without directly referencing it.
Abstract it was not entirely. The curve of a woman’s form could be made out in the lighter spaces between thick streaks of beige. She was working in the negative, creating the image out of what was not there rather than what was. Crimson red was splashed boldly across the second third of the canvas, evoking the red of the flogger’s marks. The cumulative effect was something bold and primal, yet soft and nuanced. She was very happy with it.
Several hours later, Sarah emerged from her studio tired and drained, but daubed in paint and very happy. Austin had walked Nunu for her and made dinner, upon discovery of which Sarah declared him to be the best boyfriend in the world.
“I got something done!”
“Good,” Austin smiled, giving her a hug. “Get washed up and tell me about it over dinner.”
Sarah was more than happy to comply. She went and showered the paint and the muck of the day off her body, then came out to see Austin dressed in nothing but pants and a light vest. She found him chopping vegetables in the kitchen, looking for all the world like the most unassuming charming gentleman one could imagine. It was enough to make her giggle.
Austin looked up at her with a smile. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re so sweet, and you can be so domestic,” she said. “Nobody ever would suspect what you’re really like.”
“And what am I really like?”
Her smile grew broader. “You’re… kinky. You’re demanding. You’r
e strict. You’re domineering at times.”
“That’s all true,” he agreed.
“And it’s all hidden!” Sarah shook her head and waved her fork dramatically. “I wish I could paint you as you really are. So the inside would be on the outside.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“I’m not much of a portrait artist,” Sarah said. “That’s a different kettle of wax. But you make me want to try.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Austin said. “You look cute, but you might want to put some pants on. I’ve invited a guest to dinner this evening.”
“Really? Who?” Sarah asked the question as she padded off to put more clothing on. The fact that Austin didn’t answer her should probably have been of some cause for concern, but she was far too giddy with the feeling of having finally made some progress that she didn’t worry too much about it—until Nunu started barking as he hadn’t done in a long time.
“Would you get the door, Sarah?”
She went to her front door and saw the shadow of a tall, somewhat foreboding figure. A primal part of Sarah’s brain recognized the silhouette before her conscious mind did. In spite of the warning bells jangling in her head, she shooed Nunu away and opened the door.
“Earnest.”
It was Earnest. All sixty million feet of him, or so it seemed. He was about the last person on Earth she had ever expected to see again, especially on her doorstep. The man managed to loom even in the most casual of clothing, and his expression, while friendly enough, made her feel more like prey than pet.
“Hello, Sarah.”
She looked around, but saw nobody with him. “Where are your… partners?”
“Hannah and Sybil are with their husbands this evening.”
Husbands? That was a new piece of information.
“They’re married? To other people? Really?”
The question was probably too intrusive, but it came babbling out of Sarah’s mouth before she could filter it.
Earnest didn’t answer verbally, but with a little nod. She saw a hint of a dimple in his cheek, indication that he might perhaps be suppressing a smile.
