The Other Olivia

I’m back!

No, I didn’t resolve anything, just pushed it all aside. Now I’m ready – wait – what?

Oh, this. This is a bit darker than I usually go…

An Interlude

“Come here,” he said, “Time’s up.”

She looked up from the paper she’d been writing on, put down her pen. “Yes, Sir,” she said.

“Bring your list.” His voice was stern.

She approached him, holding the paper in front of her, handed it to him like it might burn her hand. He took it, glanced up at her, standing naked in front of him.

“Kneel,” he said, carelessly, looking back at the paper. She knelt, feeling tears well up already.


She thought he must have read the paper 10 ten times. He would look at it, glance up at her, his eyes raking her, then back at the paper.

Finally, “That’s quite a list,” he said.

She bowed her head. “Yes, Sir.”

“It looks like you’ve been having trouble for a while.” He paused. When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Is that correct?”

She swallowed hard, “Yes, Sir,” she said. He could hear the tears behind her words, but did not acknowledge them.

“And you kept this to yourself. You didn’t let me know, didn’t ask for help, didn’t even indicate that anything was bothering you.” He didn’t sound angry, she knew he wasn’t exactly angry, but she was angry at herself. Angry and ashamed.

“Is that correct?” She knew he was disappointed, knew she had broken trust with him. The tears spilled over then, running hot down her cheeks.

She made no effort to wipe them away, and her voice trembled, but, “Yes, Sir,” she said. She wanted to apologize, to throw herself on his mercy, but she knew better. It would be time for that later.

He nodded. Looked at her list again, the list of things she should have done and hadn’t even started. Shook his head.

Her tears flowed.

“There’s nothing unforgivable here,” he said. “Nothing that can’t be remedied. The biggest problem is that you needed help and didn’t let me know. Of course, you need to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sir,” and she couldn’t hold back a sob.

He sighed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve been punished. And then you can start working your way through these tasks. Corner time first, with the butt plug in. Bring me the lube and the medium size plug, please.”

“Yes, Sir,” she got to her feet, dreading what was coming next. She didn’t like corner time, although she knew it was helpful for her. But standing there naked, her nose pressed to the corner, unable to think about anything except the fact that she had fucked up, was so miserable. And knowing that she was about to get spanked, hard, made it worse. Even though she knew she would feel better afterward.

Corner time was bad enough. But she hated corner time with the butt plug in the most. The butt plug was uncomfortable. Although Sir fucked her ass from time to time, he didn’t do it often enough for it to be comfortable. In fact, he most often did it at the end of a punishment. So the butt plug was uncomfortable, although she supposed she should have been grateful because it would prepare her for later when his cock would fill her.

Whether it was the butt plug or Sir’s cock that filled her ass, being taken in this tighter entrance made her feel most submissive. As if she melted into a puddle of desire, wanting to belong totally to her Sir, really to be his slave, his property. She didn’t usually feel that way, even though she loved submitting, but that sensation of being stretched and opened immediately took her to a deeper place.

She brought him the lube and the butt plug, knelt in front of him, holding them out to him. Crying again.

He looked at her for a long minute, thinking about how hard on herself she was. He knew how much she hated what he was about to do, and how much she needed it. So he asked, “Do you think you deserve corner time with the butt plug in?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I definitely deserve it.”

“Ask me for it,” he said. “Ask me to fill your ass with this plug and make you stand in the corner to think about what you’ve done wrong.”

She gulped, oh, she really, really hated this. But, “Would you please …” stumbling just a bit on the next words, “fill – fill my ass with this plug and, ” with a tiny sob, “put me in the corner to think about what I’ve done wrong.”

He smiled then, took the lube and plug from her. “Yes, I will,” he said. “Head down, ass up, spread your cheeks,” he said.

She was crying harder as she bent forward, forehead to the ground, ass raised high. She reached behind her to spread her cheeks and waited while he put lube on the plug, rubbed it on the puckered entrance, and slowly pushed it in. She moaned, trying to relax, as he forced it in.

The plug was held in place by a small chain attached to it in three parts. The chain ran on either side of her pussy and up between her ass cheeks, attached like a belt around her waist. With the chain in place, she could not expel the plug.

“Up,” he said, “And in the corner.”

She stood, feeling the discomfort of the plug as she moved. She felt very small and humble as she made her way to the corner. Pressing her face into the corner, she felt a wave of gratitude for her Sir. She knew that a spanking would follow, and she would be grateful for that too. Once it was over, she would feel like a good girl again.

It seemed like hours that she stood in the corner, although it was only 30 minutes, before Sir went to her. Standing behind her, he wrapped her hair in one hand, pulled it gently.

“Have you thought about what you did wrong?”

“Yes, Sir, I have.”

He turned her to face him. “Are you ready for a hard spanking?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. He raised his eyebrows, waited. She would have dropped her head, but his hand in her hair kept her face upturned, so she had to look up at him as she said, “Would you please give me a hard spanking, Sir?”

He grinned, “I’ll be glad to,” he said, kissing her forehead lightly, and she thought her heart would burst with love.

She was afraid that he was going to spank her with the butt plug still in, but he released the chain and let her go to the bathroom and remove it. Gratefully, she hurried back to him – and saw that he had pulled out the spanking bench.

“Oh,” she said. She loved the spanking bench when they were playing, but not so much for punishment. It gave him easy access to every inch of her ass, including the tender sit spot. He gestured for her to climb on, and she did so quickly, arranging herself so that she was comfortable and well exposed.

“No warm-up,” he said, “I’ll start with the paddle.” It was the light paddle, rather like the kind you use in ping pong, but she knew that it was punishing. As the first few blows fell, she gasped. Wiggled a bit. He ignored that and continued.

She found herself counting in her head. Each whack covered a large part of her ass, quickly turning her skin pink and then reddish. She had mentally counted 15 before she began to make little noises in her throat.

Hearing her, he said, “You’re allowed to make noise. I imagine you’ll be begging before I’m done.” But she didn’t want to beg.

At 20, he switched from the paddle to a leather strap. The strap on top of her already hot bottom burned and stung. He made sure that the marks criss-crossed, that they landed on her sit spot, and the backs of her thighs. Some of them hit across her pussy, making her cry out. She wasn’t counting anymore.

The crop was next, and although he didn’t hit her hard with it, hearing it whip through the air, feeling the fierce sting as it landed, the pause while the sting turned to a burn before he struck again, and she was sobbing. Begging him to stop. Apologizing and pleading.

He paused, but only because she had begun to move her legs, and once even reached back as if she would cover her ass. He quickly strapped her legs and arms to the bench.

“That’s 10 on the thighs, he said. The crop on her thighs was almost unbearable, but she had quit resisting before he got to 6. She was sobbing, pleading, but no longer struggling.

He paused again after that, stroked her face, told her what a good girl she was for taking her punishment. She felt so proud that he was pleased with her again, and the pain began to fade. She was almost smiling, when he said, “We’re almost done. Just a bit more.”

Her smile disappeared, and she caught her breath, but she didn’t protest.

“Ten with the cane,” he said. “I’ll count and you just thank me.”

Like the crop, the cane raised immediate welts, but it was even more intense. She screamed more than once as it cut into her, and he seemed to aim for the most sensitive spots. He counted each stroke after it landed, as the pain begin to sink in and then diminish, which gave her time to pull herself together to say, “Thank you, Sir.”

But the time he had gotten to 10, she was sobbing, accepting the punishment, thanking him one last time. She was sure they were through then, but “Just 10 more, with the paddle again, to bring us full circle.” She almost laughed at his logic, but she cried instead. “It’s ok, baby,” he said, his fingers gently tracing the welts he had raised.

His hand moved between her legs, “Oh, look, see how wet you are?” His fingers circled, almost penetrating, then away, moving up to her clit, circling it, making her whimper with pleasure, til he stopped, as she knew he would.

“Just 10 more,” he said, “And I’ll make them fast.”

It seemed to last forever, but she just cried, thinking about all the things she had been responsible for and hadn’t done. The pain she was feeling now would erase that pain, and all she had to do was accept it.

When he finished, he freed her from the restraints, but put one hand on her lower back, telling her to stay where she was. She sobbed a little bit, knowing what was coming next, but made no move to get up.

She waited while he got the lube again and rubbed it on the small opening, which puckered and resisted a bit. “Here we go,” he said, and she felt his cock next, pressing, pushing its way in. She whimpered, trying to breathe trying not to resist. He pressed harder.

She breathed easier when he pulled back for a moment, then he was able to push further in. He continued that rhythm, back and further in, while she whimpered. At last, she felt his cock lodged deep inside her and felt herself fully open to accept him.

He began moving, slowly at first, then faster, his thighs hitting against the welts on her ass and thighs. The pain on her skin became more intense than the feeling of his cock inside her, in fact, the cock began to feel good, and she began responding, pushing back into him, even though it hurt more when her ass hit his thighs and she almost laughed at the irony.

He did laugh, moving in ways that he knew she liked. She realized that if she moved just right, she could rub her clit against the edge of the spanking bench. She was doing this and totally focused on the pleasure when she realized she was about to come. “Sir,” she cried quickly, “I’m going to – can I come? Please, please please?”

He laughed out loud then, “Yes, baby, you go right ahead.” And she did, feeling the energy spread through her entire body until she exploded in a moment of ecstasy. Sir was only moments behind her, his orgasm spilling into her ass as she moaned and bucked under him.

Later, lying in bed together, he rubbed aloe on her ass, occasionally giving her a light slap that made her shudder. When he had finished, he held her close. “Your punishment is over,” he said, “You’re forgiven. Forgiven for not doing what you were supposed to, and forgiven for not telling me you needed help. Tomorrow you can start working through all the tasks you haven’t done.”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, content in his arms.

18 thoughts on “The Other Olivia

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