by Amy Valenti
Mason stepped onto the stage. “Good evening, everyone, and welcome. I’m happy to see you all here. We have many treats in store for this evening, including a collaring. But first, we’ll warm up with John and Moira.” He pointed toward the couple as he exited the makeshift stage and took his seat.
John and Moira moved to the center of the platform. Behind them, two men brought in a bench and a table. Tabitha couldn’t make out the items on the table from her vantage point.
John spoke. “For the benefit of those who are new among us, Moira and I will be giving everyone a taste of discipline. Our style, anyway. Moira will be receiving a paddling this evening. A hard one. Isn’t that right, Moira?”
Moira lowered her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”
John gestured toward the crowd. “Would you like to tell everyone why, Moira?
“Yes, Sir. I was disobedient on multiple occasions. I also spoke sharply.”
“That’s correct. And are you sorry?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m very sorry and I need a reminder.”
Moira approached the low bench from the side. She bent over and placed her palms flat on the surface at one end. Her skirt hiked up and revealed that she wore no panties. From this angle, the globes of her ass were visible to the crowd. Moira held her legs and back straight, forming a perfect corner that emphasized her rounded rear.
John examined the items on the table. He selected a leather paddle much like the one Marcus had used on Tabitha in Hawaii. She knew it delivered a sting.
John moved to Moira’s rear and caressed it with his free hand. He took the paddle and followed the same path, rubbing the leather surface against her skin.
Moira wiggled against him.
John shook his head. “No. No, my sweet. You must remain still, remember?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Sir. Please forgive me.” Moira’s voice betrayed her growing excitement.
John smiled. “I will. You’ll have your chance to show how sorry you are.”
John snapped the paddle against her ass, a testing blow. “I wonder how many it will take to make you compliant.”
Moira made no outward sign of response.
John landed the paddle again. “How many?”
“It’s not for me to say, Sir. As many as my transgressions require.”
John nodded. “You need a little warming up. What do you think?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Perhaps a stroke from each Dom here. Do you agree, Moira darling? Where are we?”
“Green. Green, Sir.”
“Good.” John looked out into the small audience. “Any Dom who would care to apply one stroke to Moira, please do so.”
Mason, their host, approached the stage and several others followed suit. Marcus remained with Tabitha, his hand entwined with hers.
John handed off the paddle and stepped to the side. One by one, each Dom struck Moira’s behind once. Dark pink splotches marked her pale skin.
The last Dom passed the paddle back to John, and they all returned to their seats. John took a position beside Moira and fondled her exposed flesh. “Did that warm you up, my sweet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Wouldn’t you like to thank those gentlemen for their assistance?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sirs. Thank you all for helping Master with my discipline.”
“Yes, and it’s so sorely needed, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, we should proceed. We don’t want to keep these fine people waiting. And after all, there are others who need their turn.”
John swung back and brought the paddle down hard on Moira’s ass, by far the hardest hit yet. The deeper thud conveyed the strength of his stroke.
Moira cried out.
John paused. “Where are we, my sweet?”
“Green, Sir.”
“I thought as much. I didn’t think you would be feeling properly chastised as yet.” He paddled Moira again, another hard rap.
John spanked Moira with a slow pace, alternating where the paddle landed with each blow. Moira’s rear turned increasingly red as he progressed. After ten strokes, he paused. “Where are we, my sweet?”
Moira visibly swallowed. “Green. Sir.”
“Yes, another few then.” On this set, John gave two blows on each side before moving to the other, one lighter swat followed by one harder.
Moira’s skin turned a fiery red. She remained still and silent, though she appeared to be biting her lip.
“My sweet, where are we?”
Moira hesitated.
John paused. “I see. One last stroke each side?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Where are we?”
“Green. Sir. Green for two more.”
“Excellent. I shall make these two count as I know you want, correct?”
Moira nodded.
John turned around, his back to the audience. He drew back the paddle to his shoulder and with a backhand motion, delivered a solid strike to Moira’s right cheek. He turned in the opposite direction and drew back again for the other side. As the paddle landed, Moira dropped to her knees, hugging the bench.
John placed the paddle on the table and stood by Moira. He pushed her hair back off her face and kissed her forehead. He assisted her to her feet and they silently left the lighted area.
Marcus leaned in toward Tabitha’s ear. “People do many different things. It’s all consensual. There won’t be any extreme scenes this evening. Mostly spankings and such. Mason does have other evenings with hardcore activities for those who are interested.”
Tabitha imagined the harder action consisted of items she’d rejected in their contract. She didn’t feel ready for things like that. Maybe she’d never be ready.
Tabitha admitted the paddling had been arousing. She felt the wetness between her legs. It brought back the memories of the first time Marcus had paddled her in Hawaii. Marcus though, had a completely different style. He’d been playful and loving. The affection between John and Moira was evident, but John’s attitude had been serious and he certainly had a heavier hand.
Another couple approached the stage.
Marcus squeezed Tabitha’s hand. “Just so you know, we’re up next.”
With that statement, Tabitha’s mind scrambled. She barely observed the scene unfolding on the stage. The man used a crop on the woman, but over her skirt. The whole scene passed in a blur and then it was over. As the couple stepped down, Tabitha’s heart raced.
Marcus stood and pulled Tabitha to her feet. She followed him up the steps, not making eye contact with anyone.
Marcus led her to the center of the platform. “Friends. Thank you for joining us this evening. I feel privileged Tabitha has placed her trust in me and agreed to be officially collared. It is the wish of most Doms to find that one person who not only calls to our body and authority, but our heart as well. For me, Tabitha is that person.”
Marcus glanced at Tabitha, then once again faced the crowd. “A Dom uses many tools. His voice, his body, his hands. He uses others with the consent of his partner. That is what Tabitha is — my partner in a sensual and psychological journey.”
Marcus approached the table. “These are also tools.” He picked up the paddle, displayed it for the audience, then did the same for the crop. “There might be restraints.” He held up a pair of cuffs. “Or even blindfolds.” He ran a length of cloth through his hands and replaced it on the table. “Each is used with permission. With consent. With care.”
Marcus returned to Tabitha’s side. “Tabitha. Select two implements to start us off.”
Tabitha walked to the table. She’d made her selections very carefully in advance. They’d discussed the possibilities. Her hand shook as she picked up the handcuffs and the paddle, both familiar. She brought them to Marcus and held them out for his inspection.
The patent leather of the cuffs reflected even in the low light. Decorative black ribbons adorned the surface and the insides were lightly padded. Two t
hin silver chains linked one cuff to the other, keeping them within a foot of one another. The matching paddle displayed a black ribbon on the handle, accenting its curves.
Marcus took the paddle and wrist cuffs from Tabitha and made a downward motion with his hand. Tabitha sank to her knees.
Marcus placed the paddle on the bench. He took one leather wrist cuff and unfastened it. “Hold out your hand.”
Tabitha raised her wrist in the air, and Marcus fastened the cuff around her wrist snugly but not tight. She raised the other wrist and he repeated his actions. The chain between the cuffs caught the light, mesmerizing Tabitha. She’d made her choice. She was committed.
Marcus backed away and indicated Tabitha should rise. She rocked back on her heels and rose fluidly to her feet. She moved to the end of the narrow bench and leaned over. Her eyes bored into the leather surface, tracing the faint lines in the natural material.
Metal rings edged the underside of the bench and Marcus fastened the cuffs, one on each side. The angle and placement made it impossible for Tabitha to utilize the limited surface for support in her bent over position. She swallowed, stress muting her growing arousal for a moment. She inhaled, slowly releasing her breath. Her rushing heart slowed, thumping deeply in her chest.
Marcus retrieved a clothespin from the table. “I’m going to pin up your skirt to expose your ass.”
Tabitha nodded. She experienced an acute awareness of self, her surging blood, her heating skin, her swelling core.
“I’m going to use three instruments on you. You selected the paddle first. You will receive ten strikes as a sign of your willingness to submit. Do you agree?”
Tabitha nodded again. “I agree to submit, Sir.” Her voice was clear and sure as her nervousness decreased.
“What do you submit?”
“I submit my body to you, Sir. Please, Sir, accept the gift of my submission.” The words came easily. They were a natural expression of her desire — her desire to be dominated by Marcus.
“I do.” Marcus turned to the audience. “Tabitha will accept ten strikes with the paddle as a sign of her submission and her desire to be bound by the collar to me.”
Marcus paddled Tabitha in an even rhythm, with little space between the strokes. The paddling was harder than what she had received before, but not as hard as what Moira had accepted.
Tabitha widened her stance slightly to improve her balance. Still, she couldn’t prevent herself from jerking under the blows. Her resolve remained firm under the sharp sting.
Marcus hit each area, the top, the middle, and the side, before settling in to focus on the fleshy lower part of her asscheeks. When he finished, he rubbed the paddle over her reddened skin before returning it to the table.
Tabitha clenched her cheeks during the reprieve. Her action amplified the burning and she relaxed her muscles. She stretched her fingers, testing the cuffs. A flash of vulnerability swept through her and dissipated as she recalled his emphatic statement. Marcus stood between her and all others.
Marcus picked up the crop and caressed it with his hand. “Our second tool will be the crop. Tabitha will accept five strokes as a sign of her desire to yield. Do you agree?”
Tabitha nodded. “I agree to yield, Sir.”
“What do you yield?”
“I yield my mind to you, Sir. Please, Sir, accept this yielding submissive.”
“I do. Tabitha will accept five strokes with the crop as a sign of her yielding and her desire to be bound by the collar to me.”
Marcus tested the crop on his palm. It had a slight give.
Tabitha tensed when she heard the slap. They had planned to use it for this special occasion, and she trusted him to wield it carefully.
Marcus brought the crop to Tabitha and rolled it over her skin, barely touching. He drew back the crop and swung it toward her. It landed with a thwack. He stepped back. A red welt rose on Tabitha’s skin. “Where are we?”
That had hurt. A bit, anyway. The sting receded. “Green, Sir.”
Marcus continued, landing the crop across both cheeks, but not overlapping any stripe. He tempered his strokes, each lighter than the one before it. Soon, five weals stood out.
“For our last step, Tabitha will demonstrate her need to surrender. Please bring out the selection of implements.”
A man appeared onstage with a tray. He placed it on the bench in front of Tabitha.
When Tabitha raised her head, she glimpsed the objects — a leather strap, a cat ‘o nine tails and a scourge.
“Tabitha will choose the instrument and accept three strikes as a sign of her need to surrender. What do you choose?”
Tabitha considered. They’d discussed the choices, but right now, none of the items seemed right. They weren’t the usual toys Marcus used and she didn’t anticipate they would use them much in the future. They were too impersonal. She wanted Marcus. She needed Marcus. “Sir, may I ask for your hand?”
Marcus hesitated. “If you want my hand, it will have to be more than three strikes.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Marcus addressed the group. “Tabitha has chosen to receive a hand spanking as a sign of her need to surrender.” He returned his focus to Tabitha. “Do you agree?”
Tabitha nodded. “I agree to surrender, Sir.” She was ready for the familiarity of his hand.
“What do you surrender?”
“I surrender myself. Please, Sir, accept the gift of my surrender.” Her breath rushed out.
“I do. Tabitha will accept a hand spanking as a sign of her surrender and her desire to be bound by the collar to me.”
Marcus leaned toward Tabitha and wound his left arm under her. With his right hand, he smacked one ass cheek. His hand was cool against the heat of her skin. “I want you to count these out.” His breath skimmed her skin, raising the delicate hairs.
“Yes, Sir. One, Sir.” Tabitha’s thighs parted instinctively; she pressed them back together.
Marcus slapped her ass on the other cheek. The outline of his hand appeared on her skin and faded.
“Two, Sir.” Tabitha arched her back, stretching, and returned to her position.
Marcus struck her again, molding his hand to her curves.
“Three, Sir.” Tabitha tightened inside and released.
He spanked her twice in quick succession and let his hand remain, resting.
“Four, Sir. Five, Sir.”
Marcus rested his hand against her. “Where are we?”
Had they reached her limit? Not yet. “Green, Sir.”
Marcus’s palm struck her again.
Tabitha’s breath rushed out. “Six, Sir.”
His hand landed again and bounced off.
“Seven, Sir.” Tabitha struggled to relax the muscles of her backside.
Marcus spanked her, harder.
Tabitha fidgeted. “Eight, Sir.”
Marcus waited before placing one hard smack on each cheek, producing hand imprints that lingered.
“Nine, Sir. Ten, Sir.” Tabitha’s awareness floated free while her thoughts raced through the maze of her mind.
Marcus ran his hands over her heated skin, soothing. His lips touched her exposed flesh with a kiss.
Tabitha twitched inside, on the verge of orgasm. Marcus had taken her farther than ever before. Pride surged through her. She’d given him everything he’d asked for willingly. Everything.
Marcus whispered into her ear, “Do you surrender?”
“I do, Sir. I surrender …” All her internal barriers collapsed, liberating her from all constraints. She offered herself to Marcus without reservation.
“You’re mine. You’re mine now.”
His low rumbling words echoed through her and Tabitha fell over the edge, coming inside. She held herself rigid, her movements barely perceptible.
Marcus opened a black bag on the table and extracted the collar he had chosen. The design incorporated thin silver strands, twisted ornately to form an intricate pattern.
Ma
rcus held the collar before Tabitha. “Do you need this collar?” His husky voice contained the merest hint of strain.
Tabitha didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Sir. Please. I need your collar.” Her words spilled from her heart.
“Then you shall have it.” Marcus fastened the collar around her neck and snapped it closed.
Approving hums and whispers were audible. Marcus released her skirt from the clothespin and smoothed it back into place. He unfastened the cuffs from the bench and turned Tabitha into his arms.
They stood there, silently, embracing. After a moment, Marcus removed the handcuffs from Tabitha’s wrists and guided her offstage and out of the club.
~ * ~ * ~
Marcus pulled Tabitha from the car, eager to reach the privacy of his apartment. He waved to the doorman as they passed and hurried into the elevator. As the doors closed, he turned her back toward the wall of the elevator, crushing her against the hard surface as he ravaged her mouth. His hands roamed freely, pulling the garments from her body. He opened his pants and guided his erection between her legs.
Desperate need wrung his words from him. “I can’t wait.”
Trapped in the same tempest, Tabitha whispered, “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m ready.”
Marcus plunged inside. With powerful thrusts, he took her against the hard surface of the wall until they both shuddered in satisfaction. He breathed heavily against her. “You were so sexy. I wanted to take you right there in the club. I thought I would burst.”
“It was hot, wasn’t it? I was surprised how aroused I became. I thought doing it in front of others would dampen that, but it didn’t. It was exciting, knowing they were all watching.”
The elevator doors opened and they stumbled into the apartment. A trail of discarded clothing marked the path to the bedroom.
“Lie down. I’m going to get something for your rear.” Marcus returned with a bottle.
Tabitha rolled to her stomach. She had to admit, now that the initial excitement and arousal had passed, a residual sting remained.
Marcus poured oil into his palm. “This is vitamin E oil. It might help.” With care, he massaged her still-pink ass cheeks. Marcus’s ministrations soothed the lingering ache in her backside. His fingers returned to her, slick with oil. He parted her thighs and reached between, searching with his fingertips. When his slippery fingers found their target, Marcus didn’t hesitate.
