Tales of Pleasure and Pain

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “Yeeeoww!” I cried again. “Oh please no!” I protested.

  “You need to be firmly spanked Julia, you’ve waited too long!” he said, as the paddle came down again and again, peppering my bare bottom with smack after smack.

  “Ow, oooo my god, please stop,” I pleaded. I didn’t know how much I could stand.

  “I’ve only started with you,” Geoffrey insisted. As he continued, my arms and legs flailed in protest, though it didn’t seem to matter what I did. He was far stronger than I imagined him to be. When I tried to put my hands back to protect my burning rear, he grabbed them, and held them to my back, so I couldn’t move them, and there was no way I could struggle free.

  Smack! Smack!

  “Pleeeese!” I cried. It was useless to protest, he was far too intent to stop at my command!

  The paddle burned, over and over on the same burning flesh, I’d be red for days, how could I have done this? Why, my anxious mind raced with terrible regret. As the strokes continued, one after another I could only think of how fast I could run from this place and this horrible paddle, and this dreadful man. My eyes welled with tears, my protests fell on his deaf ears. But much to my astonishment, there was a curious sensation happening in my loins; the stinging fire dulled … perhaps I was becoming used to it, perhaps I was getting numb; or perhaps I was becoming aroused - in the same way I’d briefly seen Miss Wills. It started in my loins and spread through my body. I was red hot!

  There was pleasure in the paddle whacking my rear end, it hurt like hell, but when he paused I waited expectantly for the next smack to fall. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My hips were grinding against him, did he know it was arousal, or did he think it was pain that caused my wild gyrations?

  My cries changed too, into whimpers, and then indeed the blows began to mellow, I could tell that he was slowing down, the wild fury dwindling away.

  They mellowed until at last they stopped. And as he’d done with Miss Wills, he waited while I caught my breath. As heavy as I was breathing, he was breathing heavily too. My salty tears stung my eyes, one dripping down my face I tasted as it ran into my mouth. He pushed me off his lap, steadying me as I stood before him… well torn apart, my skirt still hiked, my stockings and panties half on my feet, half off, my blouse pulled loose, my hair a mess.

  “Lower your skirt,” he advised. The kindness in his voice returned.

  I complied without thinking, thankful that he’d thought of it first. He was still a gentleman in the end.

  “Tell me what you feel,” he said.

  My heart was pounding, my head was swimming, my legs were trembling and my ass was burning. All of it, every bit of it was glorious feeling.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I answered. That was the truth.

  “Would you rather have waited?”

  “No, no, not at all,” I answered, I felt so peaceful.

  “Go home and feel it in you loins, look at your blushing ass, and let your hand run over your raw skin. See how it feels then. Don’t diminish this in any way, my little submissive. And come back to see me next week, you are in need of many more vigorous spankings.”

  I suspected he was right. But I had so little to say, I wasn’t sure what all this meant, this punishment, this arousal, this curious relationship I had with this man I hardly knew. He called me “his little submissive.” I liked that. I looked at him gratefully, for having opened up this need in me. The thought of him taking “matters into his own hands again”, thoroughly excited me. I was glad that he demanded my return, even though I knew by next week, my fears might rise to block my journey to his shop.

  “Next week,” he said again quite firmly, so I had no questions in my mind.

  “Next week,” I mimicked back.

  At home that night I looked in the mirror as he’d ordered me. By then the red of my bottom had faded to a pale pink glow, though I could still feel a slight heat, and the tenderest places had settled into a subtle soreness that I felt when I moved just the right way.

  I wished I’d seen my rear right after it was over, as I’d seen Miss Wills fiery bottom glowing in the corner of Geoffrey’s back room. I wondered if there would be bruises or marks the next day. I could only wait and see.

  That day changed my life; from one of wanting, to one of realizing my great need met. I could see contentment in my eyes, my agitation was less apparent. And when I lay back on my bed, my hand immediately found the sweet moist place between my legs, another need was clamoring to be filled.

  In my head I ran pictures of the spanking, seeing Miss Wills red bottom bouncing on Geoffrey’s lap. I imagined what it might have looked like seeing my own bouncing there too, Geoffrey’s firm swats with the wooden paddle reddening my posterior. As my mind created the images, my fingers played, deftly finding just the right places where the sensations were the most rich. With an abrupt jolt, my body began to explode with all the stored energy of the day surging to be released.

  My mind raced further, to the pictures of Geoffrey as my dominant, taking charge of my aroused body, his hands not just the instrument of punishing blows, but the instrument of my deepest pleasure. As my fingers played, so too played the pictures of Geoffrey fondling me after a thorough spanking, his hands kneading my bruised rear, his fingers finding all the right places, where my own were now briskly rubbing.

  It wasn’t long before my body spasmed, I couldn’t hold back any longer, though the erotic dreams in my head wanted to play out their thrilling conclusion. I wanted to see the final pictures, what would happen in the end… . I wanted to see what wild sex Geoffrey and I would fashion from the savage heat generated by my punishment. Never had such exuberant rushes flooded me through, never had my hips and my thighs heaved with such exquisite sensation, never had my puss pulsed and grabbed and cum with such bright abounding jolts. If only it had Geoffrey’s sex to milk!

  Once the ecstatic rush was over, my fingers rested on my private places, gently fondling the tense heated folds, wet now with a flood of juicy cum.

  My mind, my body so satisfied, I realized that my life had been missing an important element, the one I feared and loved the most, the spanking!

  When I saw him weekly in his shop, he repeated the “treatment”, each time bringing on the same wonderful flood of arousal that occurred that first time. I loved it, and my nights after were pleasantly spent reliving the episode in great detail to the satisfaction of my pussy; my weeks between my sessions were spent remembering the last and in anticipation of the next. Each punishment went deeper, and so too the ensuing physical satisfaction. But even more important to me, the bond between Geoffrey and me became more dear. I cherished looking at his face, whether stern or soft. I thrilled to his hands and their commanding authority over me, whether it was from the hearty blows to my ass, or from guiding me to the door after our session was over. A quick and complete intimacy had developed between us, I wondered if I were falling in love, and yet … we’d never made love, we’d never even talked as just friends. It was too absurd to consider it love so soon.

  He must have sensed my feelings for I noticed a considerable change during my fifth session. That time, Miss Wills remained in the outer part of the store, while Geoffrey and I went into the back room alone. And instead of pulling the paddle from his cabinet, he sat directly in his straight back chair.

  I looked at him puzzled.

  “After all our sessions are you deciding to resist now?” he asked.

  “But … ?”

  “Don’t question me, raise your skirt.”

  “I pulled my long wide skirt to my waist.”

  He noted the garter belt and stockings and my naked rear. I’d complied with this order earlier that morning, when he called to tell me he wanted me without panties all day, just as a reminder of what was to come.

  “Over my lap,” he directed.

  “I complied, I had no idea what would happen if I didn’t. And I didn’t want to find out, though there was this tempting
notion to try sometime.

  Smack!

  His hand came down on my bare rear end with an enthusiastic sting! Different than the paddle it was more intimate, more personal; though the harsh smacks commenced with the same intense fury that he used with the paddle. In fact I don’t doubt that his strokes were even harder than those with the that wooden instrument, the pain rising quickly as one bright sting on top of another had me reaching my limits in mere seconds.

  “Oh, my god please!”

  He paused just a minute, but only so he could continue again, with repeated slaps that burned and stung, until I couldn’t stand it.

  “Please stop!” I yelled.

  And he paused, as he heard my pleas, though it would be a while before he’d stop altogether.

  Again a burst of smack after smack drove the pain higher still, but as he continued I found, just like the other occasions, there was a switch when I could feel my body begging for the next flurry, as if we were on an unending journey to the stratosphere of pain and pleasure.

  I wanted it to stop, and then I didn’t; though I was grateful when he finally did, panting, crying, I was too filled for any more. This time when he stopped, instead of a paddle resting on my rear, it was his hand. His palm was hot but comforting; and as it rested there he began to play, to knead my well punished flesh. The effect was like taking hot coals and spreading the fire so that everything that surrounded it was touch by the scorching heat. His hand played with my ass, with my thighs, and the tender places between my legs where my juices flowed and my hot-fired sex was throbbing.

  Yet he was careful, he didn’t tread on that sacred ground for long, I’d have wait, it was not yet time - I could hear those thoughts rattling in his brain.

  Then there was just tenderness, the soft stroking of his hand. And then pulling me to my feet, he stood himself. This time he was quiet with me, no directions, no commands, nothing. I wondered what that meant.

  But as he was leading me to the door, my rear still flaming hot, I could tell he had something else to say rather than the usual brusque send off.

  “I’d like more time with you Julia.”

  “More time to spank my ass?” I asked meekly.

  “No, more time to get to know you.”

  I brightened in my passive, submissive state (where I always was when he was finished with a session). He’d said the most important words in the world to me. I responded, agreeing to a date the following night.

  We spent next evening at a cafe together, eating cracked crab and sour dough bread and some delicious salad, but I could hardly think of food then. We were absorbed in conversation. He listened well, and I listened to him. There wasn’t even the thought of spanking, or his dominance, or my submission, though there was an understanding, a tacit agreement that we both accepted. It played out in little ways in the way he treated me.

  When he walked me to my door, I wanted to invite him in, my mind already imaging a lusty roll about my bed, but my instincts decided that it was Geoffrey’s move to make, that first erotic coupling. He gave me no indication that it was time. Kissing me pleasantly on the mouth before he left, I watched him as he sped away in car, longing for more.

  When it came time for my next session, I entered the bookstore with a different attitude. Though I knew Geoffrey had disciplined many women in his life, he told me so, and he was continuing with his rather parental relationship with Miss Wills, I knew that he had no special love. I realized it could be me that would fill that place. I read that in his face, his eyes, and his tone of voice. The affection that seemed so natural when we first met and had developed over the weeks, was something very real and personal. All this gave me special cause to dream just what a more permanent relationship with Geoffrey would mean.

  It would certainly not be boring!

  With the idea of his hand smacking my rear end a constant companion to torment me, life with Geoffrey would be one of constant expectation. My curious need for submission to his will would be with me each day, not just for once a week. Even if we didn’t practice our special secret every day, it would taunt me deliciously every hour. I imagined life like that would be very sweet. To have my agitation and stress and turmoil relieved by the Geoffrey’s spirited spankings, and to have his tender affections thereafter, I could certainly live happily with that!

  “Good evening,” he said, as he held the door for me. He’d opened it before I had a chance to turn the knob. As I moved inside, I thought I noticed a peculiar glint in his Geoffrey’s eye.

  “Hi,” There was something different about the shop. It seemed peculiarly empty, looking around, I noticed that we were by ourselves.

  “Miss Wills?” I questioned.

  “She’s gone for the day,” he said.

  “Oh!”

  Alone! With Geoffrey! The possibilities flooded though my loins and heart.

  “You ready for your session?”

  “I am,” I said, my loins already tingling, though that little ounce of fear and dread was flooding through them too. It would hurt like hell, and that was never something I really looked forward to, it was everything thereafter.

  “I have a present for you,” he announced.

  “A present?”

  He handed me the long narrow box that had been sitting on his desk. A pink bow held it together. I carefully undid it the ribbon and it dropped to the floor. Opening the lid, I pushed the tissue paper away and inside, to my mixed horror and thrill, I found a razor strap and a red rose.

  “You’re going to the depths Julia, this will help take you there.” Looking in his eyes, he was already in that dominant place, that altered personality that normally rose when we went from his outer shop to the back room. It startled me its suddenness, rising abruptly here in the middle of his shop. He had something unique planned, I knew that in an instant.

  Instead of leading me to the back room this time, he led me to the stacks, to a ladder he used to reach books on the top shelves; it leaned against the cases at an angle, comfortable enough to climb … and for other things, it was soon made clear.

  I stood looking at the ladder imagining all sorts of things, but waiting for Geoffrey’s move.

  “Hand me the strap,” he instructed.

  Reaching into the box, I pulled out the leather. It must have been nearly three feet long, what a compelling piece! The rose remained by itself amid the tissue.

  “The rose?” I asked.

  “For later,” he said.

  I accepted that, though just looking at his two gifts side by side in the box, I was reminded of the contrast and the similarities between the two. The soft leather, the soft petals. The harsh stings of the strap against flesh, the harsh pricking of the rose thorns. The beauty of the rose, the coarse severity of the strap… .

  “I want you totally Julia, not just a little part of you,” he said.

  I’d hoped to hear those words from him, but with that cold steely edge they took on a whole other meaning.

  “You are a fine submissive, you have it in your blood, just like I have my dominance in mine.”

  I listened to him carefully, the commanding energy streaming from his voice and loins was arousing beyond comprehension.

  “I want this relationship permanent, I want it complete, and I sense your devotion to that idea is as real as my own.”

  I didn’t know if I should speak. If I should, I wasn’t sure what to say. Was this a proposal of some binding contract, of marriage … or what?

  “I want to punish you when I will, everyday if I choose, or not for weeks, if I choose that. I want to be in every corner of your life - not just these weekly sessions. And I want you to submit because you want to, because you need to. I want you to become my perfect submissive.”

  “Oh God, I’m never perfect Geoffery,” I blurted out. To relieve the tension probably, though it was the truth. I was trembling almost uncontrollably.

  “Then I can punish you for your haughty, wanton, feisty ways, if that’s what you ne
ed. Don’t doubt I’ll do it.”

  I looked at him, so stern, so honest. Wasn’t this everything I’d been imagining? Wasn’t this the bliss my dreams had showed me?

  I turned around, without being asked.

  I knew what he wanted, he didn’t have to say it.

  I raised my skirt and tucked it into the waist band. I spread my legs and leaned forward to rest against the leaning ladder. It was his plan.

  Another sensation, and another adventure in our altered state of physical passion - the strap - was to me the ultimate in pain, in punishment, in submission.

  My heat, my heart and my body were ready waiting to begin.

  I heard the sizzle first, the strap snapped, but not against me, against the floor. I cringed before it landed on the bare wood, and was cringing still when I heard it hit, and was cringing seconds later when the second sizzle and snap landed a blow against my ass.

  “Oh Gaaaaawd!” I cried, in one long lingering bellow.

  “A dozen Julia.” I heard him say. “Now count,” he demanded.

  The idea of concentrating on each blow enough to count, was contrary to my desire, there was no way I could count I thought, so I was silent.

  “Count!” he demanded again, and the strap struck my ass with another resounding blow. “I start counting only when you start to count. Twelve! Begin!”

  I wondered what dastardly deed had caused such incredible treatment, yet I loved the thought of it, and the sensation that the strap sent through me soared and mingled with all the other arousal so I was raging with desire and need, for more, for sex, for my hands between my legs, fingering my cunt, for his hands.

  “One, please,” I cried meekly.

  Snap!

  My body jerked. “Ooooh Gawd!”

  “Two please,” I cried again.

  Snap!

  My cry lifted into the air.

  “Hush!” he said, not angrily, “you can’t cry loudly out here my dear.”

  “Three please,” I announced again.

  Snap!

  The strap roared through the air, and coming down on my lower rear, it wrapped around me rudely with a biting sting to my side. My cry was acute, as if I hadn’t heard his admonishment for quiet. But he said nothing, waiting for me again.