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I hear you unwrap the new one, “Stay there.” you instruct and I hear you run up the stairs. I know you’re going to fetch the Vaseline. My body tenses, I’m now scared I’ll fight you against my will. You’re back almost immediately. You smear the Vaseline around my already open anus and then I know you’re doing the same with the new plug. I brace myself but you slap my right cheek, “Relax, cherie.” I try to comply. You massage my lower back, pressing down rhythmically until my muscles untense.
Then I feel the new, larger plug slip in. I groan, this is filling me and stretching me to capacity but I am no longer offering any resistance, I’ve entered submissive mode.
“Dinner, my girl, get on with it.” I rise and feel every inch of the plug, it feels like I have no room inside me at all. As I pass you, you clamp a hand on my shoulder and standing just behind me, you whisper in my ear, “Later tonight cherie, after I’ve tawsed your arse, I’m going to fuck it as well.” And you release me. I walk to the kitchen, trembling in anticipation.
I have to acknowledge you are a master of your art.
And you are as good as your word too, but you keep me on tenterhooks for ages. You are charming and considerate during dinner, pouring me wine, lighting the candles, even helping me to clear up. All the while though, I am keenly aware that I’m being semi-tortured by this large plug and you’re enjoying watching me struggle with sitting, standing and bending.
At last you decide to release me from my bondage, “Now, cherie, I think we’ll have you over the arm of the sofa one more time.”
I bend willingly, and you grasp and twist the plug. I squirm and you slap me gently, “Now, now, nice and still, if you please.” I try to remain quiescently in place. You continue to twist and reach your other hand round, rubbing lightly over the nub of my clitoris. Involuntarily my head comes up and I sigh. I know better than to beg you to stop. You begin to ease the plug out and I do my very best to relax and stick my backside out for you. My eyes close in submission as you achieve your goal, but I know this is only the beginning of my punishment.
The tawse is my favourite implement. It surpasses the cane in every respect, in my humble opinion, but I’ve never found a dom who agreed. Doms seem, universally, to favour the cane. Maybe it is my Scottish blood. So I am appreciative of the fact you’re prepared to indulge my preference.
You give me six, swift, brutal blows that leave me gasping for breath and as near to jumping up from a set position as I’ve ever been. Then you raise me to my feet and turn me under your arm. You hold me securely, bent almost double as I am, and apply six more. I’m screaming for mercy, begging, pleading, like I’ve never done before. Standing me upright, you pin my arms to my sides and kiss me savagely. I stand in forced passivity, kissing you back, wanting to implore you for, I know not what.
You stand back slightly and regard me, you still look severe and I begin to shake a bit.
“I intend you to remember this punishment for a long time to come, cherie. Now bend that disobedient bottom down for me.” You point at the arm of the sofa again. Trembling really badly now because I can feel your erection, I turn and bend.
You’ve obviously been waiting for this moment. Your use of the two plugs has left me glistening and open for you.
I give you no trouble, I am meek and move as and where you direct me. I do not begrudge you this, in fact I begin to respond and when you circle my clitoris again, I surprise both of us by having an orgasm so strong I am practically crying by the time the spasms have faded away. When you are also sated and you’ve released me, I sink onto the carpet and do begin to cry. You kneel beside me, gather me into your arms and return to the sofa with me.
“There, there,” you soothe, brushing your hand over my hair. “You’ve been a very good girl, truly obedient. And you know I always reward obedience cherie.”
Pressing me back into the cushions you work your way down my body. I told you from our very first conversation that I was peculiar, and here is one of those peculiar things. Now I’ve had an orgasm the others follow very easily. You appear genuinely pleased to see me drawn up under your ministrations, my hips snapping rapidly.
We are both exhausted and retire to bed, just spending the time before sleep enjoying the comfort of a body to hold and be close to.
You have to leave mid-afternoon on Sunday for an early evening flight home. I try to make everything as perfect as possible. Leisurely breakfast in bed, luxuriating in each other. You spank me gently, there is no need for anything else, even a mild spanking awakens the tawse marks and I’m in agony. We both know this has been an interesting interlude. Our thoughts are our own and we know there is no point in long involved conversations about things that can never be. It’s a waste of time, so we lie in bed enjoying each others company for the time remaining to us and then it’s time for you to go. I walk you out to the taxi and wave you off. I know we’ll talk again soon. I go inside and close the front door, leaning my back against it and unbidden to my mind come the words of William Butler Yeats,
“Why, what could she have done being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?”
I’ve chosen my path, there is no second Troy. I return to the real world.
