by Ashe Barker
She had scooped her hair up into a sleek knot on the top of her head and wore no makeup. Her clothes were as he had instructed, plain and easy to remove. She had chosen a pair of faded blue denim jeans and a bright yellow oversized t-shirt with a picture of a cartoon panda in a kung fu stance.
Good, he thought. This isn’t a date.
“Master Dylan,” she began, “could we just…?”
He waited. There would be a reckoning but if she was ready to talk, even now, he was ready to listen. Her words trailed away, and she apparently opted against making further conversation. She dropped her gaze to study her worn training shoes.
Fair enough.
“Strip,” he instructed. “Then stand right here, beside the table.”
She did as he told her. It took only a few moments before she had removed everything—shoes, jeans, t-shirt, bra, and knickers. Without being told to, she folded each item and placed them on the chair where her duffel bag dangled then stood perfectly still in the spot he’d indicated.
Dylan strolled to the fridge and opened the door. He took a bowl out and set it on the table.
“I find myself facing a dilemma, Jodie.” He cast a purposefully steely glance her way. “The regional championships are next week, so even though you’ve earned yourself a serious spanking I can’t deliver it, or at least I can’t serve up the level of punishment you deserve for speaking to me the way you did earlier. I need to find a way to discipline you that won’t leave you at less than at the top of your game next week. You’re fit, stronger than you’ve ever been. We both saw that today, in the gym. I intend to keep it that way.”
He paused, then shoved the bowl across the table so she could see the contents from where she stood.
“You’ll be getting a spanking, but I intend to spice it up a bit. I can deliver quality as well as quantity, and believe me, this is not an experience you’ll be likely to forget in a hurry. It’s going to be intense, but the effects will be much more short-lived than if I was to rely on a paddle, or even a cane.”
“I… I’m not sure I follow.” The tip of her tongue emerged to moisten her dry lips. Dylan made a mental note to offer her water before they started.
“You know what this is.”
She peered into the bowl, then nodded. “Ginger.”
“Good. Can I assume, then, that you know of its particular uses in BDSM?”
Her complexion paled. She nodded again. “Figging,” she whispered.
He smiled, though without warmth. “Spot on. Have you ever prepared a finger of ginger to insert into someone’s ass?”
“Of course not!”
“Then this’ll be a lesson for you, in more ways than one. If figging proves as effective as I think it will, I may want to use this method of punishment on a regular basis so I’ll expect you to be able to peel and carve the ginger for me to use on you.” He grinned. “Sorry, of course I meant in you.”
He strolled across to the drawer beside the sink unit and selected two small, sharp knives. He offered one to Jodie who took it from him without a word.
“Sit down,” he commanded, indicating the chair closest to where she stood. While she complied, he returned to the fridge and took out a large jug of chilled water. He poured one glass out and set it before her. “Drink that.”
“I’m not thirsty.” She ran her tongue across her lips again.
“Drink,” he commanded, then he watched as she lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. “Good. Now let’s get on with our preparations.”
He took a seat himself, at right angles to her. With his own knife Dylan sliced the thickest finger from the gnarled root in the bowl. He passed that to Jodie.
“You need to peel it first to enable the oils inside to get out and make contact with your delicate ass. Like this.”
He demonstrated with another finger he cut for himself. Jodie hadn’t made a start by the time he completed his task.
“Get on with it,” he ordered. “It’s my intention only to use the one you prepare, but if you dawdle or mess it up I’ll use this one as well, so you’ll be squirming and begging for mercy for twice as long. Peel it carefully and don’t take too much off. We need it to be nice and fat, a snug fit.”
He watched as she peeled the root. She was slow and cautious, but despite his admonitions he had no intention of hurrying her. The last thing he needed was for her to slice through her own fingers. When the ginger was completely peeled she held it out for him to check.
“Looks good. So now, all you need to do is carve a small groove around the blunt end. That’s so the muscles of your anus can grip it and it won’t slip out, or go too far in. So, about here… like this.”
Again, he demonstrated on his own piece, and Jodie duly completed her task. When she was finished she placed the carved ginger back in the bowl and lifted her gaze to meet his.
“W-what happens now?”
Dylan rose from the table to gather up the knives, the bowl, and the empty glass. He put all of them on the counter behind him, then took Jodie’s piece of ginger out of the bowl and rinsed it under the cold tap. He spoke to her over his shoulder.
“I won’t be using any lube as it rather kills the effect, but water will help. I’m not going to injure or harm you at all, but this won’t be comfortable. It isn’t meant to be. So now, you can lean forward over the table, spread your legs as far as you can and get yourself settled, then reach back with both hands and part the cheeks of your ass for me.”
“Really, this isn’t necessary. I get it. I was rude and I’m sorry. I—”
“Over the table, Jodie.”
His tone was harsh, clipped, deliberately so and not lost on Jodie. Her eyes widened momentarily before she dropped her gaze. She chewed on her lower lip as she grappled with indecision. Would she obey him? Would she submit to this humiliation? She had participated in the practicalities as they prepared the ginger without much in the way of comment or dissent, but now the moment had arrived she appeared genuinely apprehensive. He didn’t blame her.
Dylan waited, watched, as Jodie wrestled with the reality of what was about to happen. She looked up at him, once more meeting his gaze, her features slightly flushed.
“Now.” His tone was cold and uncompromising. He knew it, intended it. They were past negotiating now. She was about to be punished. “Unless I ask you a direct question I don’t expect to hear another word out of you, apart from your safeword if it comes to that. You can scream, obviously. I expect you will. But the time for conversation is done.”
She was close to tears as she stood and moved around the table to stand at the end. Dylan dragged the chair out of the way to make room for her, then he turned off the tap and leaned back against the sink.
“When you’re ready, tell me. I intend to insert this quickly and smoothly. And you’ll help by not making a fuss. Right?”
“Right, Sir,” she murmured, clearly resigned to what was coming. Then she slowly reached behind her, her breasts flattening against the table top as she leaned further over. She grasped both of her buttocks and spread them apart.
Fucking gorgeous.
Dylan all but came in his pants at the sight. She was his submissive, his to use, to punish. Her body was perfectly toned, athletic, powerful but she surrendered herself utterly to him. What had he done to deserve her?
Jesus, don’t mess this up.
Dylan shook the excess droplets from the peeled root and moved to position himself behind her. The tight pucker of Jodie’s asshole was poised before him, waiting. He set the tip of the root against the furled ring of muscle and pressed.
At first there was resistance. It was natural and he didn’t think Jodie was deliberately making things difficult but still he tapped her bottom sharply.
“Let it in,” he instructed.
“Yes, Sir. Oh!” She let out a startled whimper as the tip penetrated her anus.
“That’s good. Hold still.” Dylan pushed firmly. The quicker this part was achieved, the
better and he knew that the greatest barrier was her utter humiliation at the intrusion rather than any physical hurdles. Her body would be fine with this. Her head needed to get with the programme too.
The ginger slid into her ass. It was tight, but Dylan was determined. His fingers were gentle, but no-nonsense as he worked the root home. It only took a few seconds until it was seated nice and snug in her ass, just the final inch or so still visible. He twisted it within her, then waggled it a bit.
Jodie squealed, and he chuckled. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yes. No. I mean… Oh, God, I hate this. Please, Master Dylan, I’m sorry.”
“I expect you are. So, I daresay you’ll be wondering what comes next.” He patted her bottom playfully. “You can let go now, by the way.”
She had left finger marks on her buttocks from her tight grip. Dylan rubbed them away as he spoke to her.
“It takes a few minutes for the effect to build. You’ll feel a warm sensation, and it’ll get hotter and hotter. When it starts to be really uncomfortable, let me know.”
“And you’ll take it out?”
He chuckled again. “No, Jodie. That’s when I start to spank you. I’ll be using a strap, fairly light so as not to leave a lot of bruising but still enough to hold your attention. The problem is, the ginger in your ass will sting more if you clench around it. A lot more. I think I can guarantee to make you clench fucking hard over the next few minutes.”
Jodie groaned. “Christ, Sir, it’s starting already. Oh! Ow…”
She wriggled against the table and started to push herself up on her hands.
“Stay where you are,” he snapped. “I can tie you in place if you need it.”
She shook her head. “I… I’ll keep still.”
“Good. We’ll give it a minute or two more, just to be certain you’re getting the full benefit of our efforts here.”
“I am, I am.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Please, please just spank me and get it over with.”
“Be patient, Jodie. You want to learn a lesson from this, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do… I have…”
“Not yet, you haven’t, but I do believe we’re getting there.”
Dylan waited, watched with care as Jodie wriggled on the table. It was when she started to make fists of her hands, grasping the edges of the table and grinding her teeth that he determined she was ready.
“Twenty strokes. I’ll stop whenever you need a break, but the ginger stays in. The effect should last up to half an hour but if it fades before your spanking is completed I expect you to tell me and I’ll replace that piece with the one I carved. Is all of that clear?”
Jodie nodded, her cheek pressed hard against the teak table top.
“Speak to me, Jodie. Is everything quite clear to you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she ground out.
Dylan had selected the leather strap he intended to use and had left it handy in the kitchen drawer. He retrieved it now and positioned himself behind his squirming, weeping submissive. There was no point in requiring her to count the strokes. In his experience submissives on the receiving end of a punishment spanking could rarely count beyond five anyway.
He raised his arm, and he began.
Jodie jerked and screeched after each stroke, and she sobbed in between. She pleaded with him to stop, she apologised over and over, she begged him to go faster and get it all finished with. Dylan was ready for all of it, he anticipated her response and paced the strokes evenly. There was no point rushing; he wanted to be certain the message sank in. Neither was he going to draw this out longer than need be. Discipline needed to be swift and decisive, then came forgiveness and aftercare.
He halted after six strokes. Jodie’s buttocks bore the delightful marks of his strap and he drew his fingertip along the most recent welt. She winced.
“How are you doing, Jodie?”
She turned her face toward him, tears streaming across her cheeks. “I… this is horrible. Sir. How many more?”
Yup. Not beyond five. “Six, so far. You could always try not clenching.”
Her response was a fulminating glare. He could have taken issue with her attitude but decided to let it go.
“Shall we continue?”
She grimaced, then whispered, “Yes, please.”
He stopped again at fifteen. Jodie’s bottom was flaming red, the stripes now all leaching into each other. He laid his palm on her punished flesh and felt the heat but knew the effects to be only skin deep. The marks would last a few days, but the discomfort would soon fade and she’d be in fine shape for the regional championships next week. So far, so good.
“Jodie? How are you doing?”
She managed to open her eyes and nodded.
“Do you need a break? Another drink of water, perhaps?”
“H-how many more, Sir?”
“Five to go. We’re almost done here.”
“I’d prefer to finish, please, if that’s all right, Master.”
Dylan smiled to himself. Now here was a properly polite and submissive attitude, and unless he was mistaken, genuine contrition. Ah, the remedial effects of a well-administered spanking…
“Okay, then.”
Dylan didn’t hang about. The final five strokes fell across Jodie’s bottom and the backs of her thighs. She was quieter now, no longer jumping about and squealing with each fresh welt. She was processing the pain both internally and externally, sinking into that place where pain and pleasure collide.
By the time he discarded the strap she lay still, her breathing even and soft, though he knew she wasn’t asleep. She opened her eyes, the pupils dark with arousal and submissive contentment, and she smiled at him.
Dylan returned the smile, then quickly removed the ginger from her unresisting ass and tossed it in the bin. He threw a soft blanket over Jodie’s naked body and scooped her up in his arms. She nestled against him when he strode from the kitchen and across the large open plan living area of his loft. He headed for his bedroom, where he deposited Jodie on the bed and stretched out beside her.
“Do you want anything? A drink? Chocolate?”
She opened her eyes, smiled dreamily at him then lowered her eyelids again. “I just want you, Master. And the Olympics.”
* * *
The regional finals were to be held in Derby. Dylan pulled up outside Jodie’s flat before seven on the morning of the competition, keen to get out of London before the worst of the traffic. She’d been waiting for him and waved from her window then sprinted down to clamber into the passenger seat.
“Hi there.” She grinned at him and leaned across to plant a kiss on his mouth. It would seem there were no hard feelings left over from the punishment a few days before. He’d thought not, but he had been pretty hard on her. That was why he insisted she was to stay over that night; he wanted to make sure he could be on hand in case she reacted badly.
In the morning she’d been contrite, and more than a bit stiff, but pleasant enough. She even cooked him his breakfast. That had not been a massive success. Jodie’s culinary skills were not what she was known for, but it was a gesture, so he was polite about the rubbery eggs and stoical over the cremated bacon. Jodie was clearly repentant and on her best behaviour so he had no grounds for complaint, but she still hadn’t told him what caused her snarky mood in the first place.
He’d allowed her to rest up yesterday, but the day before they had been back in the gym and she was again on top form, showing no lingering effects from her spanking. The ginger had done the trick nicely. There was no reason, none at all, why she shouldn’t ace it today. Then the selectors would hopefully find it within themselves to ignore the uncharacteristic blip in Hatfield.
“Right, let’s talk strategy.” He eased the car onto the slip road leading to the M1, the motorway heading north. “Head kicks score the most, so we’ll concentrate on those just as we have in training. That way, your opponent has to get in a lot more kicks just to keep up. Th
ere’s no one else who can really rival you in your class so barring accidents you’ve got this.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Head kicks.”
“That and keep moving. Don’t give your opponent an easy target. Keep your balance. And concentrate. Hold your focus.”
“And don’t make mistakes,” she added.
“We’re going for the complex kicks, so you might wobble here and there. It won’t matter if you’re scoring well. We’re really going for it, yes?”
She nodded, mumbled her agreement. But what? What was missing? Enthusiasm? Self-belief?
“Is there a problem, Jodie? If there’s anything bothering you, anything at all, you know you can talk to me.”
Her lips flattened against her teeth. Was she trying not to cry?
“Jodie?” He reached across and laid his hand over hers.
“I’m fine. Really, I am. Head kicks, and score lots of points. Got it.” She managed a brittle smile, but he wasn’t wrong. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“It’s my job to push you and I know I’m hard on you in training as well as in our personal life. I want you to do well and I know you have it in you to be world class, but if it’s too much…”
“No! No, it isn’t. I want this as much as I ever did. I’m just… just hormonal, I guess.”
“Your period’s not due.” Dylan made it his business to be on top of such details.
“No, but… I’m just a bit nervous, I suppose. There’s so much riding on this.”
“Like I said, you’ve got it. You’ve done the work, now just get out there and show the selectors.”
“I will. I really will.”
The competition was held in a huge indoor arena. Dylan parked in the designated competitors’ area and helped Jodie to haul her kit out of the boot.
“You go in and get settled. There’s ages yet so no rush. I’ll see you inside.” She nodded and jogged off toward the entrance. Dylan locked the car then followed at a more sedate pace, thinking.
