The Preparation, Part 2

Even writing carefully, in her best handwriting, it didn’t take her long to complete the assignment. The words seemed to expand somehow, until it felt like they took up all the space in her mind. He had waited nearby, and when she put down the pen, he was by her side fairly quickly.

Looking over her shoulder, he commented, “Nice job. Now read to me.” He had not told her to stand, so she read still seated, making sure to read each line as if she didn’t know what it was going to say. “I don’t need to understand, I just need to obey.”

As she read, she thought about the context, this woman he had hired to come wax her pussy. Even before she finished reading, his presence looming over her, she felt herself settle into a space of submissive acceptance.

When he said, “Get out the straps and the ruler, please,” she wanted to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but then she giggled to herself, silly to even pretend he would accept that. She laid them out, the two leather straps, one thicker and wide than the other. There were two rulers as well, one of them a light strip of wood, more like a paint stick, the other a heavier piece, with holes cut in it at intervals. She laid them out neatly, two on either side of the notebook, so they made a nice display.

He examined the straps, slapping each one against his hand, before deciding that they needed to be treated with the leather wax before he used them again. She was not sorry to hear that, although she knew that she would be waxing them soon. He repeated the process with the rulers, and she shivered as he landed each one on his hand. She was relieved when he put the heavier one back on the desk, slapping the light one on his hand a few more times.

“Ok,” he said, “Stand up please. Get ready.” She remembered these words, this sequence, as if they’d been tattooed on her arm. Obediently she turned, facing the chair from the side.

“Get set,” he said, and she bent to place her palms flat on the seat of the chair. Opened her legs a bit wider. That felt comfortable, so she knew it was not quite right. She stepped back from the chair a bit. Now, instead of feeling nicely balanced, she was at an angle that felt a bit precarious. Her weight was more on her hands and she couldn’t easily stand up from the this position. She knew, from many experiences, that she was perfectly safe, but her balance depended on holding the position.

“Ask,” he said.

She bit her lip, felt her pussy throb, as she said, “May I have 10, please, Sir?” Then she added, because she knew he liked it, “I think it will help me remember that I don’t need to understand, I just need to obey.”

“Of course,” he said with a grin, “I’ll be glad to give you ten. You can count.” He didn’t need to say, “and thank me,” she already knew that.

The first one sent shivers of pleasure though her body. A sting, and then pleasure radiating behind it. The first one had landed on her sit spot, covering both sides of her cheeks, and she called out, “One, thank you, Sir,” was some enthusiasm.

The second and third ones also landed on her sit spot, and hurt more. He was going slowly, so there was still time for the pleasure to follow, but having concentrated in the same place definitely intensified the sensation.

Four and five also fell across the sit spot, and she cried out when the fifth one landed. He paused then, put his hand between her open legs to tug on her hair. She whimpered. He penetrated her then, two fingers sliding into her hot wetness. She cried out again, with pleasure this time , squirmed, trying to impale herself more deeply. Of course, he pulled his fingers away – brought the ruler down again, in the same spot he had hit before.

The sound she made reflected pleasure and pain in some indescribable mixture, and he smiled with delight at having elicited that sound so quickly. He paused to appreciate it before he said, “Count?”

Completely distracted, she couldn’t think where they were, and stuttered out, “Five, thank you, Sir.” He laughed, “That’s wrong, it was six, but we’ll go with five and throw in 2 extra, 1 for forgetting to count and one for being wrong.”

She was ready for the next one, but he slipped his fingers between her legs again, parting the lips to find her clit, stroking gently. She trembled, but she was thinking, “six, six, we’re on six.”

Fingers withdrawn and “thwack” the ruler again, same spot as before. She counted, thanked, and seven landed. He had not been landing them hard, but having them placed over each other like this was really intense.

She managed to say, “Seven, thank you, Sir,” but then added, “Are you going to put them all right there?”

“Don’t you want me to?” he asked. He could see several welts on her bottom, and it was turning rather red.

“Not really, Sir,” she said, feeling cautious, sure there was a trap here, and distracted by her efforts to remember ‘eight’.”

“Poor baby,” he said, and she thought, ‘oh, fuck.’

“Bring your legs together,” he said. Awkwardly, she shifted so her legs were together. “You can go down on your elbows,” he said.

This was more comfortable, but of course it raised her ass. She did not know what to expect until she felt him stroking her upper thighs, right below the sit spot. ‘Oh, fuck,’ she thought again. But as the pain of the last stroke had receded, pleasure had slipped in.

So it was more of a shock when this one landed, stinging intensely, even though he was still not hitting even close to full force. She was still absorbing it when he said, “That’s one extra for not counting,”

“Oh!” she cried out, “But – wait – NIne! Nine, thank you, Sir.”

He laughed, “Wrong, not nine. It was eight. Let’s do eight again.”

Whack! “Eight!” she cried out, “Thank you, Sir.”

There was only a moment of pause this time, the ruler landed again, and she was quick to say, “Nine! Thank you, Sir.”

A hand beneath her, caressed and tugged her nipples. She whimpered, the warmth of pleasure flooding her senses. “Ten, ten, ten,” she thought desperately.

And she must have held that thought well enough, because as the ruler landed again on top of the welts already rising on her thighs, she was able to count and thank him, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Four more then,” he said. “Where do you want them?”

For a panicky moment, she couldn’t decide where, and then she relaxed, “Wherever you want them, Sir,” she said, with so much relief that she really felt quite happy about not having to decide.

He laughed. “Ok, good answer. Don’t bother to count these.” And he began. He alternated the spots he had already used, going slowly enough that she didn’t get numb. She counted in her head, 1-2-3-4, so when the fifth one landed, she was shocked,

“Wait!” she cried out, “that was five.”

He really laughed then, “But I told you not to count,” he said.

Despite it all, she had to giggle too.

“One more,” he said, “One more, just because I want to.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, “Yes, Sir, please and thank you.”

11 thoughts on “The Preparation, Part 2

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