by Sarah Steel
'No—'
'This is the Outer Room, Matthew. This is where we share our secrets. Do you come, Matthew, after being spanked?'
He nodded.
'You come across her lap, don't you? Her stockings are wet.'
'Yes. She places the cold mirror down on my hot bottom and I come at once. She wipes me dry with her cardigan sleeve. Then they use a slipper on me. I shout - it hurts - and they force the wet cardigan sleeve into my mouth. The slipper really hurts,' he gasped delightedly.
'Thank you for being honest with me—'
'There are others,' he broke in. 'Other fantasies.'
'Others?' she echoed. 'You mean you have several masturbatory fantasies?'
'Yes. There is a stern librarian. She wears her hair in a bun and has little gold spectacles on the tip of her nose. She is quite beautiful - in a severe sort of way, you know?'
'I know.'
'I return a book. It has been damaged - dropped in a puddle. She is very angry and brings me into her private office. She lectures me, calls me a barbarian for damaging her beautiful book. I try offer money but this enrages her. I must be punished—' he clenched his hands together and spoke with increasing fervour '—with her leather belt. Twenty strokes. She counts each one out aloud. Each lash as it burns across my helpless buttocks—'
'Matthew—' she warned.
Suddenly, he slumped down onto his knees and gasped softly as he started to spasm and, hips jerking, come.
'Catch it in your hands,' she cried sternly, 'I shall be very cross if you splash it all over my nice grey carpet.'
Her anger sent him into a paroxysm of ecstasy. Fumbling blindly, he managed to cup his hands and capture some of his spurting seed.
As he knelt, groaning and spent, the brunette rose unhurriedly and approached him. She tilted his head up, her fingertips beneath his chin. He gazed up at her, his ejaculation over. She stroked his face three times with her fingernails.
'Thank you, Matthew. You have told me all I need to know.'
Susan took her gloves off, but kept them gripped tightly in her left hand - swishing them from time to time like an angry cat flicking its tail.
'Why do I what?' the brunette murmured, raising her head up from the case notes.
'Why do you call this the Outer Room?' the blonde repeated.
'Because,' the marriage guidance counsellor replied softly, 'this is where we take off all our outer defences, our pretences.'
'Is there an Inner Room?'
'All in good time. Not just yet. Matthew is ready to go in there, I think. I have to be absolutely sure. Take off your clothes, please.'
The gloves stopped twitching. Susan asked the brunette the purpose of getting undressed.
'So we can, together, get to the naked truth of your problems.'
'Unusual methods,' was all the blonde replied, standing up to kick off her kitten-heeled court shoes and unzip.
'But effective,' the brunette replied suavely, matching the blonde button for button.
Naked, they sat together, thighs slightly brushing, on the leather sofa. Susan, though younger, had heavier buttocks. Her bottom dimpled the soft hide more deeply than the brunette's.
'Sit back and try to relax. I want you to tell me what you think about - what images come to mind, as it were - when you play with yourself.'
Susan eased back into the soft leather and sighed. Turning to face the brunette, she whispered: 'How do you know I—'
'I just do,' came the reply. The brunette brushed her fingertips up along the blonde's thigh, resting her hand on the smooth, warm flesh an inch from the blonde pubic nest. 'I need to know.'
There was a full two and a half minutes silence.
'Trust me,' the marriage guidance counsellor murmured. 'Do not deny yourself this opportunity. We both know you have been denied enough. You have not known passion within your marriage. Or excitement.'
Susan spoke. 'I'm in a school room. There are desks, desks with ink-wells. You don't see them any more. Polished yellow wooden floorboards. Chalk dust dances in the sunbeams. And there is a smell of ripened apples. It is evening. The school room is deserted. A young man - handsome and sweating after a hard gallop across the fields on his stallion - enters. He has come for a private lesson. I am his teacher. He is afraid of me - adores me. I have no panties on. I am wet. The lesson commences. I am a very strict teacher. He struggles to learn under the shadow of my cane—'
The marriage guidance counsellor watched the blonde. Eyes closed, Susan spread her thighs wide apart and wriggled her buttocks into the soft leather. She began to palm her belly rhythmically, her fingertips just teasing the fringe of her blonde, coiled nest.
'Put these on,' the brunette whispered, passing the leather gloves to the blonde beside her.
Susan, keeping her eyes closed, donned the gloves and splayed her fingers wide. The pungent scent of her increasing wetness perfumed the Outer Room.
'Please continue. It is a warm evening. You are in the school room with your eager pupil. You are the teacher. The strict teacher. You have a bamboo cane. Your young man needs to be taught a very painful lesson.'
'Yes,' Susan cried, her gloved fingertips strumming her wet slit. 'I take off my cotton print dress. I am not wearing panties. But I do wear a white girdle. It makes me appear maturer. Sterner. My legs are sheathed in dark brown nylons. The suspenders draw the dark stocking tops up my thighs tightly. The girdle squeezes the cheeks of my bottom together. The young man at the desk begs for permission to kiss my bottom - to lick it and worship it. I refuse, and threaten him with my cane. It is bright yellow. I press it against my stockinged thigh. The girdle is squeezing my breasts and my bottom fiercely.'
Susan, thumbing her clitoris openly, jerked her hips. Her bare breasts bounced softly as she writhed on the leather, riding the soft hide spasmodically with her heavy cheeks. Her voice dropped to a feral whisper. She described how she bent her young man across the desk and slowly caned his bare buttocks. Slowly, dominantly, she sliced the whippy wood across his helpless cheeks, bequeathing red line after red line. Tossing the cane aside, she straddled his whipped bottom, crushing her wet heat into his punished flesh - just as he came onto the desk top.
The brunette gazed down at the blonde's gloved hands. The fingertips were stained darkly. 'Thank you, Susan. I believe I have the full picture now.'
II The Inner Room
Matthew entered the Inner Room hand in hand with the marriage guidance counsellor. She turned and locked the door. They were both naked, their clothes neatly folded on the leather sofa in the Outer Room beyond the locked door.
'Susan has gone down to London. I sent her on a shopping trip. Retail therapy, we call it.'
Matthew nodded in silence.
'Now that you have confided in me - told me more about your wants and desires than you probably realise - I can take certain measures to help you,' the brunette said, her tone crisp and imperious. 'I am confident in my methods. Up onto the table, Matthew.'
He looked at her anxiously. She patted his bare bottom with gentle firmness. 'Mount,' she ordered, propelling him to the table.
A black rubber sheet covered the entire surface of the waist-high table. Matthew climbed up as instructed and sat, marooned on the rubber, hugging his knees to his chest.
'Touch the rubber, Matthew. Feel it. You like it, don't you?' His cock unfurled and straightened as he fingered, then palmed, the smooth expanse of soft rubber. Soon he was thumbing its dull sheen excitedly.
'Smell the rubber, Matthew,' she commanded. 'Press your face down into it and sniff.'
He obeyed. She saw his cock straining as it gouged into the dark surface.
'Kiss it, Matthew. Just like you would kiss the cane or strap that has just lashed your bare bottom. Kiss, then lick, the delicious rubber.'
Whimpering softly, the young man pressed his face into the dark rubber and parting his lips, worshipped it devotedly. The brunette saw his fingers grasping his cock, then raking its wet snout in
to the black sheen.
'No,' she commanded. 'Not yet.'
He twisted his face up to her, longingly. His eyes pleaded with her. She ordered him to place his hands, palms down, up by his face, where she could see them - but allowed him to wriggle, belly-down, and luxuriate in the clinging rubber surface. He flinched slightly as she rested her right hand down across his bare bottom. He twisted his face and gazed up at her.
'I know what you want, Matthew. You have already told me. And you know that I know. That is what makes it so exciting. Soon, we will let Susan know. Sharing the knowledge—'
'No—'
She spanked him firmly. 'Don't interrupt. I know what's best for you. Trust me. It should be a shared delight, discovering and meeting your mutual needs. You may kiss the rubber, Matthew, as I spank you. You may kiss the rubber - but do not dare to come.'
She spanked his upturned cheeks slowly, palming his reddening buttocks firmly, soothingly, between the sixth and the seventh blow. His thick cock gouged into the soft rubber as his jerking hips hammered down. Pausing after the fifteenth spank to inspect his hot bottom, the marriage guidance counsellor bent down and stroked his face.
'You would love it if Susan did this, wouldn't you?'
He screwed his eyes up tight and refused to reply.
She spanked him hard and then probed his anus with her thumbtip. 'Wouldn't you?' she insisted.
'Yes,' he confessed, his lips kissing the rubber sheet.
'But you dare not ask her, hm?'
His silence was an eloquent answer to her question.
'Kneel. I want you to kneel on the table.'
He obeyed, happy and unselfconscious as his erection jerked up to tap his belly.
'Head down. No, further,' she instructed.
His spanked bottom rose up submissively as he bent his head down obediently. Gripping his wrists, she dragged his hands down alongside his ankles. He whimpered.
'Grasp hold of each ankle, Matthew. I am going to tie your wrists to them in a moment. Tie them tightly with my dark, seamed stockings. The binding nylon will burn your flesh a little, but I know that you will find it a pleasurable pain. Then,' she whispered, dragging her straightened finger across his proffered cheeks, 'I am going to administer the cane.'
'No - Yes—'
'Silence. When I have you bound tightly in preparation for your punishment, I will let you see me put on my special rubber costume. It covers every inch of my nakedness. You want to see me put it on, don't you? Hm? See it squeeze my bottom and make my breasts bulge?'
'Yes. Yes, please,' he grunted.
'And for the time being, it must remain a strict secret. Our little secret. Later, when we tell Susan what you really want from her - what you really like—'
'No, I can't,' he cried.
'Oh but you can. And you will. Even if I have to make you kneel down naked before her and whip you until you confess.'
'I could never—'
'It will mean so much to her. And do so much for your marriage. Trust me. I know. I have my methods.'
'But,' he whispered, 'to put it all into words. To try to express the inexpressible.'
'It can be done. You will be surprised how easy it will be, when the moment comes. When the time is ripe,' she said soothingly, binding his wrists to each ankle with her brown nylon stockings, then knotting them very, very tightly.
Matthew suddenly struggled in a bid for freedom but she had trussed and tied him expertly.
'Excellent,' the brunette pronounced, stepping back from the table to contemplate her naked, bound client - bare bottomed and perfectly positioned for his impending pain. She edged up to the table, sighing as the rubber grazed her thighs. Guiding her fingertip down the cleft between his tightened cheeks, she attempted to dominate him at his sphincter. The cleft tightened into a severe flesh-crease.
'Open up,' she commanded.
He whimpered softly but refused to relax his tightened cheeks.
'I said, open up,' she whispered sternly, spanking his bottom severely.
Matthew slumped face down into the rubber sheet. His muscles relaxed as he submitted to her will; her finger slid in between his softening buttocks. Reaching down, she pushed his head so that his face stared at his knees, pumping his sphincter dominantly until it was accepted meekly by the wet warmth. She bent down to inspect his erection: the straining shaft now pointed directly into his face.
'Kneel up and look at me,' she commanded.
Matthew struggled, twisting his face towards her. Rendered helpless by his bondage, it was impossible for him to raise his head up any higher.
'I am giving you permission to watch as I squeeze into my rubber outfit,' she murmured, 'but you will be blindfolded before being caned. It is not permitted to gaze upon the stern dominatrix when punishment is being dispensed.'
Stretched to its maximum length, his shaft twitched, threatening to explode.
'Look at me.' Naked, her soft breasts and buttocks rippling, she bent down over a chair in the corner of the Inner Room and reverently picked up a one-piece rubber cat suit. 'I do not wear cotton panties,' she explained, unzipping the rubber one-piece and shaking it out. 'I prefer to let my juices smear the softness at my slit.'
On the table, painfully trussed and bound, Matthew moaned gently, his fingers splaying out in an agony of frustration as they ached to grasp and deal with his swollen cock.
'It is important, however, to powder oneself,' the brunette continued, utterly ignoring his sweet torment and shaking talc upon her upturned palm. 'I always powder myself here—' she massaged her bosom slowly, generously, with her talced palm, '—and of course, here.' Her palm smoothed her rounded buttocks. 'My cleft gets so hot and sticky,' she murmured, 'when I use the cane.' She clapped her hands. The fine powder hung in the air, scenting it with a sweet menace. 'Now it is time to let my bare skin feel the delicious, tight rubber.'
Stepping into the left leg with a prinked foot - and then into the right - she eased the second skin up her sleek legs and thighs until the soft black material hugged her hips, squeezing her buttocks in its encircling grip. Palming it up over her hips, she let the sheath of tight rubber trap her heavy breasts.
'See how it moulds and clings to my thighs, and to my bottom,' she whispered, turning and displaying her cupped cheeks to his adoring gaze. 'And now my arms, and breasts.'
Turning to face him once more, she teasingly drew the zip up from her belly to her throat, trapping and squeezing her breasts beneath the stretchy rubber. The neon strip above shone down on the swell of her bosom and buttocks, enhancing and pronouncing their delicious curves.
'Do you like me in my rubber, Matthew?'
'Yes,' he hissed, tonguing the black softness at his lips.
'Head up,' she barked. 'Pay attention. I want you to watch me putting on my rubber gauntlets.'
She paced softly towards him, burying her hands deep down into the stretchy rubber. She extended her right hand out to his face, brushing his lips with her fingertips.
'Kiss,' she ordered. 'Kiss the fingers that will grip the cane.'
He kissed and sucked at her fingertips feverishly. 'The cane,' she murmured. 'The yellow, bamboo cane. In this hand it will bestow such sweet pain.'
'Stripe me,' he pleaded huskily. 'Lash my bare bottom.'
'In a moment,' she replied sternly, as if he were a child. 'First, I must go and don my rubber hood. When I wear it, you cannot see me. But I will see you, Matthew. I will see the lines of my cane on your bare bottom. I will see the tears on your face. I will see you in your torment and in your ecstasy as you come, squirting your hot seed down onto the rubber sheet. Remember, Matthew. The dominatrix sees everything. There can be no hiding place whatsoever for her suffering slave.'
'Cane me, please—' he begged.
'My rubber hood makes me inscrutable,' she continued, ignoring his frantic pleading for pain. 'Inscrutable, severe and hauntingly mysterious as I chastise you. Just as you want it to be. Hmm?'
'Yes,' h
e groaned. 'Yes. You understand. You know—'
'I was taught by the master himself, Matthew. I was schooled by de Sade. I owe all my technique, my methods, to him and him alone.'
Matthew shivered, mouthing the words 'de Sade' in silent wonder.
'But now you must be silenced.' She bent down and brutally gagged him. Matthew's eyes bulged as the gag smothered his excited moans. 'And you must not be permitted to see your punisher,' she added, binding his eyes with a length of smooth velvet. 'The softness of this blindfold will absorb your tears,' she whispered.
He spasmed, almost coming.
'No,' she warned sternly. 'Not until I say so. Not until the bamboo bites.'
Matthew tensed as he heard the door to the Inner Room open and close once more and shivered in his helplessness as he heard the key click to lock the door. Two bolts were drawn, slowly. The deliciously slow dragging of the bolts quickened his imagination as he sensed his approaching doom.
The soft approach of his chastiser towards the table sent a trickle of icy quicksilver trickling down his spine. Between his clenched cheeks, his anal whorl tightened as a hot pulse plucked at the sensitive muscle. A maddening pulse of anticipation - a quickening pulse of delicious dread. Bound painfully, his head forced down between his knees, his unseeing eyes gazed blindly up at his throbbing shaft. The blood pounded as it sang loud in his ears; his heart hammered with excitement.
A soft thrum filled the taut silence. The thrum of a whippy cane being sliced down. He tensed - but it was only his beautiful dominatrix testing her bamboo for suppleness and satisfactory sting. A practice stroke.
A second thrum - this time, a note of venom in the slicing sound. Matthew gasped, his cry choking on the tight gag, as a flash of crimson exploded behind his eyes. The thin cane had lashed his bare bottom, searing it with a scarlet line of pain. Swish. Swish. Two more measured strokes kiss-striped his up-turned cheeks, biting them with savage tenderness. His balls tensed in his sac and his quivering shaft strained painfully for release.
Swish. Swish. Rocking gently on the rubber sheet, Matthew spasmed and grunted as the cane sliced down, the bamboo biting sharply again and again, biting his soft cheeks vehemently. He froze as he felt the tip of the cane tap-tapping the nape of his neck dominantly, then shuddered as it revisited his buttocks with another cutting slice.
