Subculture

by Sarah Veitch

  ‘You’re so charitable,’ Lisa countered watching him remove the raw silk tie.

  ‘Believe me, when your pants are at your ankles you’ll be glad of every scrap of leniency,’ Michael Landers answered. He looped the silken bond around her extremities three times and firmly knotted the material in place. Then he patted his suit pocket. ‘I’ve got nail scissors here to cut you free if your arms start to cramp.’

  ‘My, haven’t You thought of everything,’ Lisa sneered, flexing her newly bound limbs the little she could in their bondage, and wishing that he’d bend her over quickly so that she no longer had to face that impassive stare.

  ‘If one of us is going to get drunk and disorderly, then the other has to take charge of the situation,’ the surgeon said.

  ‘And don’t you just love playing the Lord of the Manor?’ the herbalist continued baitingly. She’d give him a run for his money yet.

  Michael tilted her chin with his fingers. ‘If playing the Lord means thrashing some sense into your spoilt young bottom, then yes, I do.’

  ‘Oh, fuck off,’ Lisa muttered, turning her face away.

  ‘I think I’d rather lift up your dress and pull your panties down instead,’ her boss replied, reaching for her hemline. At the same time she felt his right hand on her shoulder, turning her towards the table and pushing her gently down, down, down. As if in a dream, Lisa let her bound arms fall forward and let her head rest in the space between.

  ‘Right, let’s have a look at the area we’ll be caning,’ she heard her boss say. Felt the midnight blue velvet being pushed up, acknowledged the shift of air currents against her thigh tops above the stockings. Whimpered with lust and humiliation as he started to edge down her protective briefs. What if a silver service maid walked in to set one of the tables? What if a wine waiter appeared?

  Lisa shivered apprehensively as Michael Landers continued to drag her panties over her newly-raised bum. She felt them slither to her ankles. She was still wearing her black patent high heeled shoes, so her thighs and buttocks felt extra taut.

  ‘Your arse makes such a pretty picture,’ the doctor said, and she sensed that he’d stepped back to admire her exposed raised rotundities. ‘It’s a pity that your demeanour has been so ugly tonight.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Okay?’ Lisa forced out. Now that she was about to flinch below the cane she was indeed very sorry. Fantasizing about being thrashed was one thing. The reality was something else.

  ‘Apology accepted, but this bottom still has to make amends,’ Michael Landers replied amicably. She turned her head to the side and squinted back, watching him move more to one side of her. He lined the cane up with the central swell of her bare buttocks, and Lisa looked quickly to the front again. She didn’t want to see the rod swishing down. She’d planned to flirt outrageously with her new employer - nowhere in her provocative scenario had she envisaged this.

  ‘Stripe one coming up - well coming down,’ the doctor said with a snorting half laugh.

  ‘Such linguistic prowess,’ Lisa muttered into the table. Then she felt the sudden thin brand of pain as the cane seared its path across her defenceless contours, and she pushed back with her bound hands and gasped and squealed. She half scrabbled and half jumped to her feet, and turned blindly towards the door knowing only that she had to escape from this bum-based torment. Michael Landers put his hand on her arm.

  ‘There’s nine more like that awaiting you,’ he said evenly.

  ‘Nine more than I’m having, you mean,’ Lisa gasped. She tried to pull her hands apart but the wrist bonds held them in situ. ‘Just untie me, okay, doc?’ she muttered. ‘That bloody rod hurts like hell.’

  ‘Of course it hurts. It’s punishment, isn’t it?’ Dr Landers said softly.

  ‘Yes, but...’ He’d pleasured her during previous sessions. The erotic charge had made the paddle strokes bearable. If only he’d fondle her fervent folds now.

  Michael Landers seemed to know what she was thinking. ‘You’ve been a naughty girl. You don’t deserve gratification yet,’ he said.

  ‘And you do?’ Lisa mumbled, staring at the obvious tenting of his trousers.

  ‘I don’t see why not. I wasn’t drunk or flirtatious or rude in a public setting,’ the man replied.

  ‘No, you’re a fucking saint,’ Lisa shot back. The cane stripe still burnt its memory across the centre of her naked contours. She felt silly and a little scared. She also wanted very much to orgasm. If he’d only let go of that cane and slide his powerful right hand between her thighs.

  He was staring down at her coolly - but his erection showed that he was hot. Lisa decided to try a different tack.

  ‘You could kiss it better,’ she murmured, raising her lips to his compellingly.

  ‘Kiss your arse when I’d rather stripe it with the cane?’ Michael Landers enquired. He brushed his firm mouth against her more yielding one for a magical second. Lisa’s nipples tingled and a new path of pleasure made its way from each full breast to her bared soft belly, then centred in her pubis. She groaned and pressed the full length of her body against his.

  ‘Had any better offers?’ she whispered shakily.

  ‘I’m rarely short of female company if that’s what you mean,’ the doctor replied, brushing a tendril of her hair back from the side of her cheek. ‘Though I prefer quality to quantity every time.’

  ‘I’m quality,’ Lisa countered, not sure what he was inferring or why.

  ‘And I’m especially going to enjoy striping your quality buttocks,’ her employer replied.

  ‘And afterwards will I... get a kiss?’ She hated herself for asking, but her clitoris was all but pleading.

  ‘Afterwards we can do whatever you wish.’

  Lisa bit her lip, then turned to face the ornate dining table again. She pushed her bound arms forward and lowered her body down from the waist. Her vulnerability deepened. Going over was more difficult this time - she knew just how merciless the cane could be.

  ‘Go easy,’ she muttered.

  ‘I can’t afford to be lax. Every time I think of how rude you were out there my caning arm tightens,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Try yoga or deep breathing for relaxation.’ Lisa quipped. The rattan seared its way across both hemispheres and she cried out, pushing her belly into the polished wood in a bid to make her rear target smaller. Could she take eight more hot strokes? Her hot bum didn’t think so, yet the alternative was to leave Malta and this sexually-enticing man.

  ‘Third time not so lucky for some,’ Michael murmured, laying on the third firm stroke.

  ‘Aaah!’ Lisa levered herself up from the table again. She turned to face her tormentor, started to rub her punished bum against the wood in a vain bid to dispel the concentrated line of fire. ‘It hurts too much,’ she wailed, tugging at her wrist bonds again and wishing desperately that her hands were free to protect her bare bottom. ‘Really hurts.’

  ‘I suppose I could offer you an alternative,’ her employer said. ‘That is, you take three more of the cane and swap the other four strokes for a bare bottomed spanking across my knee.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I was going to suggest that in the first place but I remembered how much you’d hated your earlier spanking.’

  No wonder - she’d been held across his lap and treated like a schoolgirl, Lisa thought dazedly. What did he expect?

  She hated the thought of being bent across his legs again. She took a small step back.

  ‘Look at the cane,’ Michael ordered. ‘Then look at my palm. Which one is it to be, my dear?’

  ‘Oh just bloody well spank me if you’re going to,’ Lisa muttered, wondering if she’d manage to bring herself to climax by chafing against his leg. She grimaced as he sat down on a padded low stool and pulled her over his suited knee. Closed her eyes tightly as he pushed her dress further up again. Then she winced as he traced the three presumably red can
e lines over and over again.

  ‘They’ve come up nicely. Even if I say so myself, I know how to lay on the cane,’ he said, fingers bringing new heat to each lightly-raised ridge.

  ‘Got an A-Level in it, have you?’ Lisa retorted, kicking her legs.

  ‘For a girl whose about to get her bare bottom warmed, you’re not being at all clever,’ Michael Landers replied.

  He was right, as usual. Lisa decided to say no more. She’d take her spanking and her last three lashes of the cane and then she’d find a way to make herself orgasm. It would be the one pleasurable moment in an otherwise strange and unsettling day.

  She felt her tormentor raise his palm. Belatedly it occurred to her that he hadn’t stipulated the number of spanks her bottom was getting.

  ‘How many am I due?’ she muttered, staring down at the plush blue rug.

  ‘I’m going to spank you till you’ve sobered up and have stopped being impudent and difficult,’ the doctor answered, raising his knees so that her bum was more highly placed upon his lap.

  ‘Hope your palm doesn’t fall off in the process,’ Lisa said. Part of her wanted to be quiet and just get the session over with. Another part of her wanted to see how far he’d go. She had a feeling that if he spanked hard enough and talked her down enough she’d break through some barrier and would climax more strongly than she ever had before.

  ‘I’ll call in reinforcements to spank you if need be,’ her boss said. Contrarily, she now wanted him to leave, to stop shaming her. To let her regain her dignity again. Why couldn’t they just have sex without the spanking? Why couldn’t she enjoy a climax without tasting the cane?

  ‘It seems a long time since I had this naughty backside beneath my palm,’ Michael murmured. It seemed like a long time to Lisa, too - but she was damned if she’d admit it. She heard the smile in his voice as he continued. ‘My hand is looking forward to becoming acquainted with both bare buttocks again.’

  There was no answer to that. Lisa trembled with renewed humiliation and pressed her lips tightly together. Then she opened them and gasped as his hand lashed down.

  His palm had made contact with the centre of her left nether cheek. Even as she acknowledged the spreading heat, he doled out an equally stinging smack to the neighbouring buttock. God, his arm was powerful. Each echoing smack seemed to reverberate through every cell of her disarmed nether cheek. She was just getting over one spank when he laid on the next one and the next one. Lisa drummed her bound hands against the floor and wriggled about on his suited knees. She promised herself that she wouldn’t cry out no matter how long he spanked her. Then she heard herself whimpering as spank followed spank followed spank. The man was toasting the tender line where buttock meets thigh, the springy lower curves, the upper soft globes. He was whacking with equal enthusiasm at her deep divide.

  ‘Ah!’ she gasped.

  ‘Was that a plea for clemency I heard?’ The man kept spanking.

  ‘Ah! Ow! Aah!’

  ‘This hot arse doubles as the cutest music box.’

  I can take it, Lisa told herself as her chastisement intensified. But a few minutes later she gasped ‘No more!’

  ‘That’s for me to decide,’ Michael said mildly, laying on an additional four spanks. Then she winced as he kneaded her hot sore globes and earlier cane lines. Held her breath when he suddenly stopped caressing her much-stimulated flesh. If only he’d finger the wet pink folds between her spread thighs. She needed release and wouldn’t complain if he slid an exploratory digit all the way inside.

  ‘I’ve apologised for being drunk,’ she muttered. ‘I’m sober now.’

  ‘Sober enough to take the final three cane strokes, my dear?’ he asked lightly.

  Lisa swallowed. She’d forgotten all about the punishment that remained. She squirmed helplessly in her bondage, all too aware of her burning contours. ‘But I hurt so much,’ she said.

  ‘You mean your bottom hurts. We must use the right words for things, Lisa.’

  She’d heard him shame Jamilla like this with similar verbal games. Lisa had listened, wondering how the Maltese woman could bear it. Now she knew that the man’s syrupy tone both shamed and excited his lovers, taking them to new sexual heights and depths. Her normally slim vagina felt like a greedy gaping hollow. Her gel-slicked labial lips felt swollen to twice their usual size.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ Michael Landers said.

  He could wait forever. ‘What if... what if I don’t say it?’ she gasped.

  ‘If you’re disobedient? Well, you won’t deserve that kiss.’ As he spoke, he slid one finger between her legs then moved his fingers till they located the hood of her clitoris. Then he moved his leg until her clit was directly against part of his suited lap. Lisa couldn’t tell which part - she had her eyes closed in near ecstasy. Michael re-positioned himself slightly and increased the pressure upon her rabid sex.

  ‘I think you have something to tell me,’ he murmured persuasively. ‘Say the words or I’ll move my leg away from this begging bud.’

  ‘My...’ She had to say it, or else he’d remove the source of the pleasure. ‘My bottom hurts,’ she mumbled, heat rushing to her facial cheeks and her nether regions simultaneously. Her body felt so awash with lust that it was becoming hard to think, far less to breathe.

  ‘How much does your bottom hurt?’ the doctor continued. ‘I think a naughty girl should be much more specific.’

  ‘Use your imagination,’ Lisa said.

  ‘I think I’ll be imaginative with my fingers,’ Michael Landers replied. Lisa groaned and rubbed her bound hands against the rug as he stroked her clit then stopped, started and stopped, repeated the torment.

  ‘You could put your fingers up me,’ she muttered. Her mind said please, please, please.

  ‘Is that all you want up you?’ Michael murmured calmly. She shivered with delight as he rimmed a strong digit or thumb around her desire-drenched entrance then pushed it about a centimetre in. She’d always adored the moment of penetration. Usually though, the rush of sensation wasn’t caused by a finger, but by her lover’s rampant cock. Michael was obviously asking if she wanted his shaft inside her. At this moment, every fibre of her being actively longed for it.

  ‘Surprise me,’ she said, wanting him to make the next move. She waited for him to lift her up and lay her across one of the tables. She waited for his zip to go down. The moments passed. Silence. Eventually she twisted her head back and looked at him, eyebrows and lips moving into a nonplussed mask.

  ‘Is that enough of a surprise for you, my dear?’ Michael said. ‘You mustn’t be presumptuous.’

  ‘But I thought...’ The effort of keeping her body twisted was too great, and she let it flop back down again. Was hugely aware of her exposed sexual folds and her tingling well-spanked rear end.

  ‘I’m not psychic. You must say what you think,’ the doctor replied calmly.

  Lisa kept quiet. She felt overwhelmed, confused. Couldn’t he just take the initiative without her asking? She was used to men meeting her more than halfway, yet this bastard obviously wanted her to beg.

  ‘I’ll just take my fingers for a little walk whilst you decide what it is that you really want,’ Michael Landers murmured. ‘Can you guess which pathways they’ll oh so hesitantly explore?’

  She could feel which pathways they were exploring. The herbalist cried out, voice echoing around the plush warm room, as she felt one of his fingers enter her soaked quim. Then it stirred slowly round.

  ‘Please keep doing that,’ she whispered, terrified that he’d mistake her silence for censure. ‘Please.’

  ‘And would you like the other hand to go adventuring too?’

  Lisa tensed. She hoped the other hand wasn’t going to spank her arse - it already felt hectic. Then she felt something cupping the wet bud of her clitoris, and she relaxed. ‘I’d like... I’d like the other
hand to stay where it is now,’ she said gutturally, keeping her nub rammed against the source of friction, knowing that she was beyond making sarcastic remarks.

  ‘I think both fingers are happy now,’ the doctor murmured, keeping the warm pressure on her clit and beginning to move the other digit up and down her vulva. ‘I think they’ll stay in situ as long as they get to hear about your bottom and its relationship with the cane.’

  ‘The cane?’ Lisa all but slurred, moving her bud against the pleasure-bringing base. She was nearing Nirvana.

  ‘Mm, my fingers want to hear about all the places on your bare flesh that the rod could land.’

  Mind searching and discarding each shameful image, the herbalist hesitated. To her dismay, Michael stopped thrusting his thick digit up and down her. He also took away the palm that was pressing against her clit. Lisa groaned.

  ‘Oh dear, these poor fingers aren’t getting to hear their bedtime story,’ he said sweetly. ‘They’ve gotten so bored waiting they’ve gone to sleep.’

  ‘No! I - I’ll say what you want - what they want,’ Lisa gasped out, desperate for the friction to re-stimulate her pubis.

  ‘Tell me where you might receive the last three lashes of the cane, my naughty darling,’ the doctor said.

  ‘On my rear end,’ Lisa muttered.

  ‘On your arse, you mean?’ She felt his fingers brushing past her clitoris. ‘I should explain that the fingers like to hear adult language. They don’t play with girls who aren’t humble, or those who are too coy.’

  Lisa knew she’d be as humble as was humanely possible if only the source of her future orgasm would stay. ‘I could take the cane on my arse - on my bare arse,’ she amended, then whimpered with relief as Michael Landers started to touch her clit and oiled entrance.

  ‘Where, exactly, should I cane you?’ he continued, moving a thumb or fingerpad lightly over her lust-logged nub.

  ‘Could use the cane across the centre of my bott... of my bum,’ Lisa muttered. ‘With me stripped from the waist and touching my toes.’