by Jaye Peaches
“I’m sorry, I don’t have your gift for controlling situations, I’m not good at it, and I let them think things that weren’t true,” I said looking up into his eyes.
He snapped his fingers again and I quickly looked at the floor. The pristine carpet did not offer me much comfort under my knees.
“Are you going to fire me, sir?” I whispered at him, hoping to placate him quickly.
Jason sighed, and leaned back to perch on his desk near to where I was kneeling.
“No. The situation is under control. HR has been slapping the managers back into line. I’m not going to fire you, but I am going to punish you – I’m going to fire your arse, like I warned you I would,” he was speaking in a low voice. My master’s voice was in residence, not the angry boss.
“Do you want me to go to Blythewood tonight, sir?” I asked politely as possible.
“No, it will take too long. We’ll do it here.”
He stood up and went over to lock the catch on his office door. “I want you to stand facing the wall, over there, nose against it while you compose yourself.”
I was trembling, heart pounding as I carried out his instructions. I was strangely excited, being punished in his office, like a bizarre fantasy except the fantasy was really happening – what was he going to do to me? Standing there, I tried hard to stop my legs from going like jelly. Eventually he spoke again.
“Drop your skirt and knickers off.”
I took a deep breath, shuffled out of my skirt and pulled my knickers down, leaving me in stockings and high heels. I picked the clothes up and put them on one of the meeting chairs. He pulled another chair away from the desk. Sitting on it, he waved me over with a finger, while with the other hand he undid his tie and pulled it out from his collar. Pausing a moment he undid the top button of his shirt.
“Turn around,” he instructed and with swift ease he used his tie to bind my wrists. Grabbing my arm by the elbow, he tugged me and lowered me across his lap. One leg over my thighs, trapping me tightly. His left arm pressed down on the small of my back.
“I’m going spank you, Gemma, hard. This is a punishment,” he spoke softly but very sternly. “Why am I punishing you?”
“Because I was indiscreet, sir,” I murmured back barely audible. He must have be able to feel my pounding heart with his hand.
I closed my eyes and waited. The blow when it came was hard, right across both cheeks. His palm rigid, making it hard and flat, swiping up as he hit me. Pain radiated out from the blow, causing me to exhale loudly and gritted my teeth tightly. More swipes followed. I bowed my head, trying to concentrate on processing the pain.
He worked his way around my buttock cheeks and the smacks were not evenly placed in time. A few fast ones followed by a lingering pause. I was becoming increasingly audible with my cries though not especially loud. I was pressing against his restraining hand and leg. The swats were painful thuds on my flesh, they echoed around his office and he was not letting up. I must have had received twenty.
Tears welled up in my eyes and the teardrops fell on to the polished floor below. I was crying quietly. I had been spanked before, hard like this, but I was full of other emotions. He was disappointed in me and the knowledge preoccupied me. The feeling of failure prevented me from absorbing the pain. The techniques for managing pain I had been taught were failing me and the lack of rhythm in his spanking had not helped the situation. I had yet to find a route for dealing with his punishments.
Sometimes I would float off during a spanking. My endorphin drenched body would seek refuge in an almost out of body experience. To drift off, floating in a strange place where my senses were dulled and fuzzy. The state came about gradually, never an instantaneous experience and the mood had to be right, typically erotically charged and certainly not encumbered by sense of disappointment. The mood was definitely not there as I lay over his lap. Far from the floaty effects, I could not stop the negative thoughts and the pain won through.
Jason stopped.
Was the punishment over? He had parted my legs to grope my sex. The palm of his hand rubbed over my buttocks and it started to happen; my belly was aching and my clitoris pulsated. His hand spanked me a few more times, not hard, almost playfully. Fingertips dropping down to my slit. Slaps followed again and I groaned with the strange sensation of painful lust.
I jerked hard on his lap. He had hit me with an implement. From the corner of my eye, I saw a plastic ruler. I squeezed my eyes shut and slumped back down on to his lap, resigned to further onslaught. He systematically worked his way around my flaming buttocks. The pain was a continuous spread across both cheeks, radiating burning heat. My arse had been well and truly fired by Jason Lucas.
I whimpered and my pain threshold was close to being breached. However, I was sensing my sexual being responding as if I was building to an orgasm. Unlike the last time he struck with a ruler, at his house, I was finding the atmosphere was shifting and redirecting. A strange intoxication began to sweep over me. More than a physical response, I was almost finding an erotic need to enjoy what he was doing to me. Was it the room, the ambience of his office or maybe the build-up he had given me as I waited all day to find out why he wanted me in his office. The right kind of anticipation could be alluring and enticing.
Surely not! I had never had such a response before during a punishment. I was deeply turned on by the pain and my surrender. A combination I had rarely experienced before now.
The idea of safe-wording up to that point had not entered my mind. It would have added to both our disappointments for me to end the punishment when it should be his decision. However, we were still finding out about our limits and how to recognise them. I was close to opening my mouth to speak and out of it came a wail induced by unbearable pain. I just could not end this.
“Shhh!” he whispered.
He put a finger inside and rotated it round.
Christ, it was amazing! He was finding my hot spot perfectly and my knees drew up underneath his restraining leg. The ruler struck my thighs hard. I jolted on his lap, twisting, straining, perhaps he had not finished yet. Sure enough, he started spanking me with the ruler harder than ever and I cried out loudly and began to struggle against him. Jason was definitely a master of manipulating me between pain and pleasure.
“Sir. Sir, please,” I sobbed loudly. My backside was a blaze of pain, the heat and throbbing continuous. Underneath me I had sensed his cock, growing rapidly now. Yes, yes, if that was what he wanted. I wriggled directly on top of his growing hardness, trying to stimulate him further. I had overstepped the mark though.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Go stand in the corner away from me.”
I staggered over to the corner of the room and stay there facing the wall. The pain throbbed on and I leant on the cool wall for a while. I kept my head down as silent tears continued to drip down my face. Many minutes went by and I could hear him typing on his keyboard. He was back to work while I stewed in my self-pity: neglected and overlooked. To be ignored hurt as much as the spanking.
Footsteps approached and he quickly undid the tie around my wrists. His face was next to the back of my head.
“What is the purpose of punishing you, Gemma?”
“To make me atone for my wrong doings, sir.” I could help the sniffles as I tried not let my snot run out of my nose. He gave me his handkerchief. “Thank you, sir.” I clutched it in my hands.
“You will think twice now about engaging in gossip won’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What else, Gemma? What did this punishment do to you?” his voice remained strangely soft yet full of those dominant characteristics.
My internal erotic pulse could not help ticking over. I was not sure what he meant. “I don’t understand the question, sir.”
“Are you angry with me for carrying it out?”
“Oh no, sir.”
“You didn’t subspace why? You can subspace?”<
br />
I had not fully drifted off with him so far and he was evidently aware of it from observing me. “I have in the past, sir. During sensual spankings or floggings. Never for punishments. Did you want me too?”
“No. You must not subspace during punishments. You should feel the pain, not run from it. So what kept you from subspacing?”
“I was unhappy that you were disappointed in me. I shared that disappointment with you, sir. Negative feelings,” I confessed.
He had not touch me at all, just stood there, my back to him and his voice by my ear. “Let the punishment work those feelings out of you. Release them. Then we will both be able to move on. I am satisfied. You have been contrite, understood what you did wrong and took your punishment with courage. What do you want now?” he lured me with his seductive voice.
“You inside me.” I shut my eyes, trembling at his close proximity and the temerity of my statement.
“Hungry for me are you?” he asked quietly.
“Very, sir. Hungry to make you happy.”
Oh to be fucked now, would be such a delight. Please, please, my insides begged for relief.
“Do you know why you were aroused, so wet?”
I was about to say to please him, but he had not asked me to become aroused. It was a punishment spanking and not an erotic experience like the first spanking he gave me in the lair. The realisation of my response to his painful spanking hit me hard.
“Pain. That isn’t right.... I’ve never....” I floundered for words. I could not face the idea that I liked pain to the point of launching an orgasm. That I was a masochist, not after what he did to me in his garage.
“Sssh,” said Jason reaching out with his arms, he wrapped his hands around me. “Don’t be afraid of pain. We’ll deal with the issue another day.”
My anxiety must have leaked out of me, showed itself, even though he could not see my face. Leading me back to his desk, he threw his shirt tie toward his desk chair. He pushed me over to the meeting table.
“Bend over, hungry one, flat to the table. Hands grip the edge. You don’t move. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cautiously I bent over on to the table. My blouse was still on and he pulled it up away from my red bottom cheeks. My hands clasped the table edge, I could just reach if I stretched myself wide. I rested my cheek on the hard table surface and shut my eyes. The situation was unreal, like a dream coming alive. One of my fantasies was coming true. I really was about to be fucked by my boss in his powerbase.
He used his feet to push mine apart further, wider. I knew he was going to fuck me and did not think he had my pleasure in mind. A finger touched my anus, I winced and flinched away, his finger went south and plunged into me, he used it to probe, in and out quickly. Finger gone and I heard his zip coming down, he was breathing fast, keen to be about his business. His hard shaft pressed against my entrance.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” Not quite a question.
I could not talk but I nodded my head. My ponytail was grasped and held tightly, pulling my head and shoulders off the table.
“Hold tight,” he instructed. “Nobody can hear us,” he hissed down at me.
I exhaled a loud cry when he rammed into me, he did not go deep but hovered for a minute. Holding my waist and hair as I took him in me. Then he started to move in and out rapidly, audible grunts as he exerted himself. I was uncomfortable but not in pain, deep down the sex was what I wanted. The submissive bent over for her master, servicing his pleasure. The thought of this, not the reason why I was here, but just the idea that I was being fucked aroused me intensely. He leant over me and started to rest his weight on his elbows, dropping my ponytail. My bum was being painfully chaffed by his trouser button, his weight was starting to crush me and panic was setting in. It was too much and he was suffocating me. I could not breathe and my arousal was lessening. My natural survival instinct kicked in and I was writhing and making distressing noises. I was going to safe-word. Before the word came out, he pulled up as if he had read my mind.
“Are you alright?” Jason’s voice sounded mildly concerned.
“Couldn’t breathe, OK now,” I panted back.
He was still inside me, he began to move again with urgency but he stayed upright. He gripped my hips tightly and filled me. His ejaculation was accompanied by his forceful exclamation of pleasure. “Fuck, oh Fuck,” he exclaimed as he leant forward on his hands.
One hand reached down between my legs and found my tender spot and he rubbed it hard. I gasped and pushed back against his hand, I was so ready to come. Then he stopped and removed both his hand and the remnants of his erection from inside me.
No! I was left incomplete and extremely frustrated, my personal hunger unfulfilled. I heard his zipper going back up and he walked across to the other side of the room and opened a door. A tap running in another room, he was washing his hands. Then his footsteps returned and I sensed him nearby.
“Get up. Use the bathroom to tidy yourself up.”
I gingerly rose and scooped up my clothes. I could barely walk. Even though my shoe heels were low, I tottered across the room. I washed myself with a handful of tissues and put my clothes back on. Rinsing the tears off my face, I looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy and my hair was a mess. I quickly tidied it with my fingers.
When I came out, Jason was back at his desk sat down, necktie back on and he looked very unflustered like nothing had happened. I stood in front of the desk, like a naughty schoolgirl. My legs were very wobbly.
“I’d suggest you sit down, but somehow I don’t think you want to,” he looked up at me from his computer screen with an unsuppressed smirk.
“No,” I whispered.
“Go home, stick your fiery arse in an ice bath, use arnica cream every few hours and take two paracetamols.”
“Yes, sir,” I could barely utter words.
“I’ve arranged someone to drive you home. You can wriggle on the back seat of the car, save you the embarrassment of trying to use public transport.” Jason leant back in his chair, hands resting on the back of this head. He looked me up and down.
“God, you’re a sight.”
He got up, walked round to my side of the desk and perching on the edge. He took my hands in his and rubbed his thumb along on my knuckles. A tear trickled down my cheek.
“What?” he snapped impatiently at me.
“Tomorrow evening...” I trailed off.
“Martinson will pick you up at seven, as usual,” he smiled as he watched me dissolve into uncontrollable sobs. He pulled me towards him and held me against his shoulder.
“Gem, what’s wrong? Did I really hurt you bad? You didn’t safe-word me. I’m right?” He genuinely looked concerned.
“No, I thought you wouldn’t want me this weekend.”
I wiped my back of hand against my nose like an unruly child. He reached into a pocket then remembered I had his handkerchief already. I fished it out of my sleeve.
“Silly girl. Why wouldn’t I. Punishment over, I’m satisfied, we’re moving on. OK?” he tipped my chin up and looked in my eyes. He sensed my continuing anxieties. “What?”
“I was afraid, at first, of your anger. Men have such quick tempers. I can cope if I know you can control it.” I looked directly into his eyes. His self-control was important to me, to our mutual trust.
“I see,” Jason placed his hands on my waist, squeezing me slightly. “Gemma, while I’ve been a dominant, I have never knowingly physically hurt any of my subs beyond what they can tolerate. I can control myself when I punish, trust me. I will stay within the parameters of your limits and your marks will only ever be temporary. Emotional pain. Well that’s not so easy to deny or judge. People are very different in their limits. My verbal lashings are notorious, even in the work place. As long as we keep communicating, that is what is important.”
The relief flooded through me and he grasped my face and plante
d a kiss on my lips. I parted my lips, let his tongue in and for a few minutes we were lost like this. Suddenly he pulled back.
“Come on, Martinson is waiting in the basement car park. Save you the embarrassment of staggering out past security in the foyer. See I can be a kind dom,” he smiled, melting my worries away.
“See you tomorrow, Jason.”
I felt much better. I walked carefully to the door and unlocked it. My backside was still flaming and I was now very desperate to follow his advice and soothe it in some way. I looked back as I opened the door and he was still perched on the desk watching me with those intense blue eyes.
He smiled a warming desirous smile. “Tomorrow, Gem, looking forward to it. I’ll ring you and check you’re looking after yourself.”
I was very glad I was in a private car. Lying on my side on the back seat, clutching my handbag, I tried to make sense of what just happened. However, I was too tired to think rationally. Jason was incredibly cross with me - he had spanked me, fucked me and then went all nice on me. He knew how to reassure my frail nerves.
What the hell had I got myself into?
The spanking hurt as he intended it to, but he was in total control, he sensed when I had had enough and then eased up when he was fucking me too hard. I did not have to safe-word, he could read my thoughts through my body. I was desperate not to let down him and the relief at not safe-wording was pervasive. I began to appreciate that I have found a very special master. I did not want to lose Jason. Would he keep me and make it a permanent relationship? I had a strange stirring in my heart. My emotions were mixed and confused.
Was I falling in love with Jason Lucas?
***
Friday evening came by quickly. The previous evening I had sat cautiously in cold bath water with ice cubes added for extra affect. I had applied cream very liberally to my very red bottom. From what I could see in the mirror, small parts of it were definitely going to go black and blue. I had winced. I had been spanked before and harshly too. Jason had patently done it many times before too, his expertise was apparent to me. Spanking was pretty much a routine part of many of those in a Dominant / submissive relationship, I knew I needed to get back into the swing of it. I slept quite well considering, the paracetamol had helped.
