“You begin to move your hand over my cheeks, very smoothly and softly, slowly. The action is lulling and comforting. I sigh, because I find this soothing.
“‘So, all of the spankings you’ve suffered have been spankings you’ve provoked, more or less?’
“I suppose.’
“‘And each has disappointed you in some manner.’
“‘Yes, I would say so.’
“‘Because you have been in control.’
“‘Yes,’ I say in a small voice.
“‘And for one other reason.’
“I do not know what you are getting at and remain silent.
“‘They disappointed you because they were all transitory experiences, with people who would be gone from your life soon enough, or those you had no intimate emotional attachment to.’
“Hearing you say this makes it crystal clear to me. You are correct. What my life had lacked has been consistency and intimacy.
“‘And none of these spankings have been as painful as you would have liked,’ you say.
“I am embarrassed to tell you this, but I answer, ‘That is correct, Lord Henry. They were not as painful as I would have liked.’
“‘And you would like the spanking to hurt.”
“I hesitate. How can I admit this?
“‘Answer me!’
“‘Yes. I suppose I would like it to hurt.’
“‘No ‘supposing’, Dorianne. You do want it to hurt, don’t you?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘And you are in grave need of punishment, are you not?’
“‘I hate you!’ I cry out. Tension makes me say this. ‘I do not hate you,’ I say immediately, because I realize I do not. What I hate is this, the situation, the feelings of mortification.
“‘Answer the question. You are in need of chastisement, are you not?’
“You remain so cool. It is infuriating. Reassuring. I try to think of a way out of this, a way of cajoling you, but nothing comes to mind.
“‘Answer! Now!’
“The immediacy of your demand bring my reply. ‘Yes,’ I finally admit.
“‘Yes what?’
“‘Yes, I need chastisement.’ My voice breaks. You have forced me to say it all. Thoughts of revenge fill my brain. I know this is a distraction, something to help me avoid the humiliation I feel. Humiliation that is now creeping up over me like a blush.
“‘You may stop this now, Dorianne. Simply say you do not wish to proceed with what will occur.’
“But I can say nothing at all. I know that you will spank me, hard. Perhaps very hard. Harder than I have yet experienced. A shiver runs through my body at the thought. I do not know how I will cope with pain from your hands. Perhaps I will not find it exciting at all to be punished by a man I have had such mixed feelings about. Perhaps I should stop you before you begin. Perhaps I cannot tolerate being humiliated like this. To my horror, I realize there is also the possibly of becoming intensely aroused. I do not know much at this moment, but I know I want to, need to find out what will occur.
“Your soothing hand motions stop and your palm rests on one cheek. The waiting is agonizing. The tension is palpable. It is as if the air is filled with the warning signs of an impending storm. The density. The pressure. Something must give.
“Your voice is low, stern, when you say, ‘Beg me to spank you.’
“‘Oh my God!’ I cry. ‘How can you do this to me? Is it not enough that I admitted to you that I need a spanking?’
“You are cool, patient, not about to become worked up by this. You are steady as a rock, and if you were not, I would scream ‘Stop, at once!’ and end this. But you are. I hear it in your voice.
“‘Beg me for a spanking.’
“I swallow my pride. I know my face must be scarlet. I feel your eyes upon my face, watching me. Waiting. So patient. Can you know the small place you’ve backed me into, the corner from which I feel there is no escape? The pressure is intense. If I ask, I know you will spank me, and I dread that, even as I long for it. If I do not ask, I may miss experiencing what has only been a dream, a fantasy, a longing, one unknown even to myself. I will miss facing myself. Did I come this far to turn away?
“‘I will tell you once more, and only once more,’ you say. ‘You will either beg me to spank you, or we will discontinue. It is your choice. Hesitation will be the same as a verbal request to cease.’
“If I could wave a magic wand. If I could escape this dilemma. If I could avoid what I have no wish to avoid…
“I feel your hand moving off my body and know time has run out. I swallow every ounce of pride within me and blurt out, “Please, Lord Henry. Spank me. Very hard. I need this.’
“SMACK!
“I inhale sharply and quickly. The shock of the smack on my right cheek causes my bottom to jump into the air. Humiliation coupled with pain fills me.
“SMACK!
“Your hand makes contact with my left cheek, and again I jump. The cheeks of my face color. This is utterly degrading. To be lying across the lap of a man I have for so long detested, a man who has done nothing but embarrass me, keep me prisoner in his home, lying across your lap, Lord Henry, my ass elevated, my cheeks bared by you, for your pleasure, being spanked by you, at my request…
“I feel you watching my face. I am nervous. Afraid, if truth be known. I think about how to cajole you out of this, how to turn the situation around so that I may have some control here…
“SMACK! SMACK!
“These two come fast together, one on each cheek, and I cry out ‘Ouch!’
“My bottom is warm. It is a most pleasant feeling, after the fact. The heat spreads out from the point of contact.
“Now, several smacks in a row to each cheek. I tense against the onslaught. These spanks are harder than the first few, and they hurt more than I imagined spanks from a bare hand could. I love the warmth that comes after, but I hate the actual crack of palm on flesh. As much as the pain, I hate being under your power like this, although, of course, I know I can stop you at any moment.
“My breathing is fast. My lower lip trembles a little. The skin covering my ass tingles. Pleasantly. I feel your eyes on me, studying me, analyzing my face, my breathing, the no-doubt pink color of my bottom. Assessing my reaction and determining what you will do from here.
“A series of smacks rain down on my bottom. They are hard and fast. I cannot control them. I cannot control my reaction. My head snaps from side to side. My bottom tries to twist out of the way. The pain is awful. So awful, that one of my hands automatically races to my aid and tries to cover my derriere. You grab my wrist roughly and pin my arm behind my back, holding me in place.
“The spanking continues, and I hate it. ‘Stop!’ I cry, but you ignore me, and suddenly, with great terror racing through me, I realize that the moment when I could halt this has passed. “In desperation, I try reason, although the pain nearly annihilates that. ‘You’re too hard on me. This is my first spanking of this nature,’ by which I mean one that comes from the hand of someone I would do anything to avoid. From someone I have asked to spank me.
“You pause, your arm raised. My bottom stings. My breathing is in short pants as I try to live with this heat. But the heat is exciting. I like it. I am embarrassed to like it. I am embarrassed to have you see that I like what you are doing to me.
“‘You have one last chance, Dorianne. If you wish me to cease, I will do so now. Forever. But if you do not stop me now, then this adventure is out of your hands, and you have willingly placed yourself in mine. Do you understand?’
“I do not hesitate. ‘I understand,’ I say.
“Instantly you resume spanking me. This is enormously demoralizing. What have I done to myself? I twist and turn and struggle to avoid the blows. My body is desperate to get away.
But a secret part of me appreciates this punishment that I have waited a lifetime to receive. Yet I am at the same time terrified; I do not know how much of this I can take
. The pain is fierce. I only enjoy the after-effects, not the cracking of flesh on flesh, although the sound excites me, I must admit. It is the intimacy that unnerves me, of being with someone who is spanking me out of love, and not duty, or simply for their own amusement.
“You pause just seconds between every two spanks, long enough for me to feel the pain sink into my skin, and for the heat to spread, for my bottom to throb. And then more. Each smack is shocking, unexpected, yet how could I not expect it?
With great clarity of mind, I cry out, ‘You’re just spanking me out of anger, for disobeying! And because you hate me!’ None of this is true, but I feel compelled to test you.
“You do not pause. ‘I believe it is you who hates me. And you requested that I spank you. I am spanking you because I enjoy doing it. Because we both enjoy it.’
“‘I hate it! I hate you!’ I cry, my voice petulant. I feel wild with desperation. I grit my teeth and curse you further. I cry out. This is impossible. I cannot bear this.
I cannot even say that to you. It is a point of honor, of pride. I am stubborn. But the pain eats away at my stubbornness. I cannot take much more. I am about to plead, in the most insipid fashion. I am about to cry.
“Suddenly, you stop.
“My bottom, I know, is no longer pink, but must be crimson by now. It must glow. I know it throbs. The stinging pain ripples around my flesh like tiny biting insects. I feel my ass trembling in shock. I can only make little sounds of dismay, incoherent sounds. Two tears have gathered, one in the inner corner of each eye. I feel utterly mortified. Being spanked like a child. Having you not even spank me out of anger. Your cool demeanor is infuriating. Your power is thrilling and in a peculiar way it is reassuring and I feel safe. I feel contained.
“You pull me up to my knees. ‘Look at me!’ you say.
“My eyes lock onto yours. I feel angry and vulnerable at the same time. Your eyes are dispassionate. I know you can see every emotion in me through my eyes and I feel my body quiver at being so ‘naked’.
“‘Thank me,’ you say.
“Thank you? I am about to tell you to chase your own tail! But then I realize I do wish to thank you. The pain you have given me was at my request. And even as I kneel here, my bottom burning, I know that you were only giving me what I required. And I do want this. I adore this feeling, even as I feel ashamed at loving what is so debasing.
“‘Thank yo—‘
“‘Not with words!’
“Your cock is firm. I inch back on my knees and bend down, my ass thrust out and up. I kiss the head of your penis, and lick him. Your rod is warm, the flesh sensuous. I open my lips and slide them over him, taking the length of your shaft into my mouth. My hand cups your balls. My fingers rake along them, as my teeth draw up your shaft and my tongue licks around to the sensitive underside. You move a hand to my ass and rub my cheeks, comforting me. I love the sensual and soft feel of your hand on my hot, wounded skin. Rather than eliminate the burning, it is as though you are spreading it out. I feel a need to move my bottom around, and do a little.
“You grab my hair and pull me up. My face betrays me—I feel wanton, lustful. You can see all this. I am again humiliated beyond redemption in the light of your cool stare. I feel like a bitch in heat, and you can see this!
“Your fingers find my second nipple, the one which was left alone before, and you begin toying with it, pinching, squeezing, pulling. You roll it between your thumb and fingers. Moans escape my lips. My nipple seems to have a direct link to my cunny, and the heat from my bottom undulates through me and turns that connection into a hot road of pleasure.
“You play with my nipple a long time, until it is deliciously sore. My body sways. I feel light-headed, subjected to pleasures that I cannot stop, that I have no wish to stop. My vision blurs. My mouth is dry. My pussy juices have wet the crotch of my bloomers and it is sopping. Shamelessly, I thrust my titties at you, wanting you to do anything you like with them.
“You move your hand away.
“I am left with throbbing body parts. The contact has been severed. We stare at one another. I suddenly realize that you are object of my desires, and I desire contact with you on an ongoing basis. How has this eluded me? You can fulfil me. I know I am conveying this to you silently, with only my look, with only the vibrations that come from my flesh. I can see that you want me. Your cock is like a rock. You have ‘that look’ in your eyes, and I know I am the cause of it, which inspires me to greater heights.
“‘Lie across my lap,’ you say.
“I am shocked. ‘You can’t mean to spank me again?’
“‘I mean to do just that!’
“I think hard, briefly, but in that brief time I sense that you will take me into a land I have never visited.
“‘Lie your ass across my lap, Dorianne, and be quick about it!’
“I crawl back over you. My bottom raised like this, offered like this for your pleasure, more than humbles me. I turn my face away and close my eyes.
“‘Turn your head back.’
“You will have all of me. I can see that now. Every inch of me. I turn back my head.
“I hear the drawer of the nighttable open. ‘Place your hands behind your back.’
“I do as you say. Immediately I feel something wrap around one wrist, then the other, binding them together.
“‘I will block your mouth, Dorianne,’ you tell me. ‘When you scream, no one will hear you.’
“When I scream? You are going to make me scream?
What are you going to do with me? ‘You cannot bind my mouth,’ I blurt out. ‘I will not be able to communicate with you.’
“‘Use your hand.’
“‘The ‘V’?’ A universal symbol for ‘victory’. I am completely disconcerted. Afraid. Struggling for some ground to stall this.
“‘No, only your middle finger. Lady though you be,’ you mock me, ‘surely you are aware of the universal symbol for ‘fuck you’, are you not?’
“Before I can answer, you insert a wad of fabric into my mouth, stuffing it far enough in that I cannot spit it out. I feel absolutely wild. Fear and anticipation battle for control of my body. Shivers ripple through me. Parts of my body flash back and forth between hot and cold. I tremble as if my bones will knock together.
“Your hand grasps the bloomers and pulls them down, until they join the stockings at my thighs. My ass is completely exposed now. I find this thrilling, erotic, having my warmed behind completely bare before your eyes. I groan in pleasure and shame.
“I hear you rummaging in the drawer. Suddenly, you are brushing my hair back out of my face, fixing it back so that you will have a clear view of my profile. So that I will know that you are watching me, observing my every emotion as you dominate me. You are brushing my hair with a hairbrush. It is made of wood, with a flat oval back. How could you know?!?
“I am about to receive real pain, and I suddenly realize that what came before was only a prelude, so to speak. All my life I have longed for someone to control me like this, to force me to the edge of my base desires, to cause me to weep so that I might open up my essence to all the ecstasy I am capable of feeling with another person. All my life I have longed for the deep trust of a relationship which would allow this to occur. And I never once envisioned that it would be with you! But now that the time has come, I am terrified. I do not know if I can tolerate this at all. I am fearful of trusting you. What if you go too far? What if you do not go far enough? What if you abandon me? I want to stop you before you begin. I want to run away. From you. From myself. From what may be unbearable. The hairbrush will hurt more than your bare hand, of that I am certain. And you will be able to spank me longer and harder. My body trembles and perspires out my questions and concerns.
“‘I do not see any hand signals,’ you say, your voice holding a note of humor in it. Fury surges in me. You are toying with me in so many ways! With my hands behind my back, my face is pressed hard against the bed. I struggle to see you
, but just glimpse you out of the corner of my eye. Your eyes give me hope. You may be gentle after all. But even if you are not, I cannot bring myself to feel any desire to stop this torturous process. I shake my head, dismayed with myself. Aroused by what will come.
“Again, out of the corner of my eye, I watch your arm rise. You are holding the hairbrush in your hand, the flat side down. I brace for what I know is unknowable until it occurs.
“You are a brute! An absolute brute! If I could speak, I would denounce you as such, and much more! Yet I might have lost the ability to speak coherently. You bring the hairbrush down onto my ass relentlessly. The sharp pain is excruciating, like nothing I have ever experienced. It dilutes my anger considerably and forces me from thoughts. But it does not keep me from feeling.
“Foremost are the physical sensations. My body twists and turns and bucks hard, struggling to evade these sharp cracks. I feel my entire body tense. My poor ass is suffering for my stupidity! I allowed myself to be here! I cannot believe it! But I cannot even think about that now.
“The constant pain takes me to a place where I have never been. Barriers inside me crumble like an old wall that no longer serves a purpose. What is on the other side of this long-standing wall is unknown. I am terrified. Of this pain that will not let up, of the emotion emerging in me.
“I feel utterly helpless. Tears well from my eyes. This instrument of my torture is unlike your hand, which, by comparison, seemed warm, human, responsive. The inflexible wood simple slaps my cheeks, one after the other, with a cold precision. But I know it is your hand holding the brush, meting out this severe punishment.
“It is not long before I am crying full out, my screams muffled. I have never felt such agony, and some of it is emotional. Every blow feels as if it strikes one small dear spot, over and over, and the sensations ripple out from there. My bottom is on fire. And the worst part is I know that there is nothing I can do to sway you. Something perverse in me does not want to sway you. Whatever your plan, I can only allow you to lead me where you wish me to go. I must acknowledge to myself that if it were within my power to stop you, I would not!
Darker Passions: The Picture of Dorian Gray Page 17
