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Nicki Submits Ch. 01

By: codepoet



Chapter One

Nicki looked at her reflection in the large mirror on her bedroom wall. Tall, pretty in an angular way, rather too skinny. Smallish breasts, nicely formed. Long legs. She pulled her skirt up to her navel and slowly twirled to examine her naked buttocks and hairless sex. Tom had forbidden her to wear underwear: he wanted her to be available to him at any time and in any place. She grimaced as she fingered the welts left by the caning she had been given five days ago – six stripes, fading to bruises, neatly arrayed on her behind. A tapestry of submission. The memory of the pain was imprinted in the ache she felt as she ran her fingers over the raised and still tender flesh. She was horrified when she felt herself moisten with desire at the memory.

The lips of her naked sex were red and tender from the strapping she had received yesterday – a punishment inflicted on her because she, overcome with desire, had forgotten to ask permission to orgasm. Tom had laid her on her back on the kitchen table, ordered her to place her hands behind her head. He had told her to open her legs as wide as possible, and placed a cushion under her buttocks to raise her splayed and gaping vagina into the correct position for punishment. Picking up the stiff leather tawse she had purchased over the internet, he had beaten her on the inside of her thighs, and then rained several hard strokes directly onto her open nether lips. He had ignored her pleas, cries, moans and groans. The tears running down her face had mingled with her mascara and stained her new white satin blouse. After the punishment, he had entered her slowly and forcefully, thrusting against her inflamed sex, his forefinger penetrating her anus, muscle tight around his digit, causing her to climax again. She had only just remembered to ask permission in time, thankfully given. The towering orgasm had left her dazed and exhausted. By the time she had recovered her senses, he had gone.

She winced as she gently prodded the welts on her thighs. They were already fading, still tender, but not as raised as those left by the cane. She had a flashback, an almost out-of-body experience, looking down at herself on the table, knees almost to her ears, the most intimate parts of her body stretched and exposed to Tom's gaze. She blushed to remember how humiliating it was to be explored thus, and how much it had excited her. What was happening to her? How had her body managed to betray her? Was her brain wired up incorrectly? Was she just perverse? How had this confusion between pain and pleasure, humiliation and desire come about?

It had all started innocently enough. Nicki was in her late twenties, an aspiring actress and singer. She had been introduced to Tom, in his fifties, handsome and charismatic, at a dinner party. He like her, was an actor. They had talked about the vagaries of the profession, directors they had worked with, the kind of theatre they were interested in doing. They had some things in common. Nicki was attracted to him, and, she thought, him to her. But he was married, to a stunning and very talented musician, so she had concentrated on cultivating him as a friend. They had talked about maybe doing some work together, but nothing had ever come of it. She saw him roughly once a month – they would go for a drink in the local village pub, and talk about theatre. 

Then Nicki had been offered a job – a one year contract teaching drama at a school in Malaysia, partly funded by the British Council. She had jumped at the chance, rented her small flat to a friend, and flown off to have, she hoped, adventures and experiences which would stand her in good stead in her future acting career.

It had not proved quite as exciting as that. Malaysia was fiercely hot, the teaching was boring, the drama curriculum unimaginative, the people she was mixing with provincial and small-minded. She kept in touch with her friends in Cornwall via Facebook, among them Tom, to whom she frequently moaned about the lack of inspiration, her boredom and once, when she was a little tipsy, about her sexual frustration. It wasn't that she was lacking for sex: quite the opposite. She was an attractive young lady, and there were many men who wanted to sleep with her. But her ennui seemed to have extended to her sex life. She found the men she slept with vapid and unsatisfying.

She had rather too much to drink one night, and poured out her sexual frustration to Tom. Afterwards, she was horrified and embarrassed at what she had said, and hastily apologised to him. She was gratified that he did not appear to think less of her as a result – she valued his friendship and missed their interaction. They continued to communicate. One week, Nicki, very bored, put together a performance of songs from "The Sound of Music" for some visiting diplomats. It was a great success, and one of them told her that Julie Andrews was not quite as innocent as she appeared on screen. Apparently, she told Tom via Facebook Messenger, she was into bondage! Julie Andrews! Nicki thought this was hilarious.

Later, she asked Tom's opinion about the possibility of doing a masters degree in theatre. He had said that instead of going back to university, she should emulate the successful Julie, climb mountains, yodel, and get a good spanking. How would she take it? Would she choose bare hand, slipper or paddle? Without really thinking about what she was saying, Nicki replied that she could certainly use a good spanking, and that the paddle sounded like fun. Tom said he glad they were friends and was looking forward to seeing her, when she came home from Malaysia.

And that was that. It was never mentioned again, and Nicki was sure that it was all probably just a joke. But she thought about it a lot. Thought was probably the wrong word – she had become obsessed by the idea of being punished by Tom. She would lie naked on the top of her bed, sweltering in the the heat, and think about how it would be, what he would do to her, what he would order her to do. Would he bend her over his knee? Surely he would take her knickers down and spank her bare bottom? Would he fondle her during the process, move his strong fingers to her moistening slit and caress her inner parts? How humiliating it would be to lie thus, her bottom reddening under his hand, her sex rubbing up against his thighs with every blow. She would find her hand creeping down to her pussy, rubbing the hard nub of her clitoris as she imagined being penetrated as the punishment ended, her behind still tingling with the pain of the slaps. She masturbated every night while imagining Tom first beating her, then inside her, grinding her, using her, and she would climax in the sticky heat, gasping and floundering, ashamed and embarrassed by her own desire. 

Nicki had never fantasised about punishment or submission before – but now these imagined scenarios were dominating her nights and days. She thought of nothing else. In class, in front of rows of eager, if untalented children, she found her mind wondering, bringing up obscene images of her naked body, bent, splayed, opened and abused in the most humiliating way. At dinner parties, she found that she missed out large chunks of conversation because she was somewhere else, imagining Tom inflicting a map of her pain and submission onto her naked, aching behind. She was horrified that her body responded to the idea of pain and humiliation the way it did; she was mortified that she found her horror arousing, but she could not put the idea out of her mind - and her imagination, unleashed - ran a riot of scenarios in which she was dominated, immobilised, penetrated and abused.

When her contract finished, Nicki returned to Cornwall. The first few days passed quickly, she was busy making contact with old friends and moving back into her flat, thankfully in surprisingly good order. She had some money in the bank, and could spend the next few months comfortably, looking for work, relearning and rehearsing audition speeches, maybe even writing the play she had always thought she would put on at the local theatre. Her obsession, she thought, had probably been a side-effect of the heat. Of course, she wasn't going to be spanked – Tom was still married, after all, and her fantasy would remain just that – something imagined, now gone, all finished. But if anything, her fantasies strengthened. Knowing he was there, in the same village, that sooner or later she would have to see him, seemed to set her loins on fire with a desire so strong that it weakened her knees.

Eventually, when she could bear it no longer, she phoned him. Yes, she was back, she told him, she would like to buy him a pint and catch up. They arranged to meet at the pub the next evening. Nicki, confused and frightened by her dark desire, spent hours getting ready, choosing underwear, skirt, blouse and shoes. She kept on telling herself that she was silly: nothing was going to happen. Why was she making such a big thing about seeing a friend? She knew that Tom would be his usual urbane, charming self. They would have a drink, he would walk her home. There would be the usual peck on the cheek, and then he would return to his wife and family. She hoped nothing would happen, and feared that nothing would happen. She was dizzy with a mixture of lust and frenzied expectation.

Entering the pub, Nicki saw Tom sitting at a table in the corner of the snug – a nice quiet, private part of the pub, devoid of TV screen, jukebox and slot-machine. He stood up to greet her, kissed her on the cheek, and walked over to the bar to get her a pint of cider, Nicki's favourite tipple. He was already a third of the way through his pint of real ale. They sat down and talked, the way they usually did, and Nicki was relieved that they still seemed to have a lot in common. Tom didn't mention their Facebook conversation. He was the perfect gentleman, asking her about her time in Malaysia, and filling her in on the local gossip. 

As the evening wore on, Nicki become more and more desperate to broach the subject of their conversation about spanking. Perhaps, if she could talk about it to him, they might laugh it off and put an end to the unseemly sexual fantasies she was having. Even now, just looking at Tom's hands and face brought such strong images to mind that her panties were becoming moist at the crotch. She blushed, imagining that people nearby could see her naked desire, but that only reinforced the feelings that were flooding her sex. Last orders were called. Tom stood up and said her would walk her home. He lived further on, up the hill from Nicki's flat.

They left the pub together, Nicki in a desperate state of mind. What could she do? Tom asked her if she was alright. She seemed, he said, to be preoccupied. Nicki told him she was fine, but her turmoil was becoming more apparent. They reached her door. Tom pecked her on the cheek and said goodnight. He turned to go.

"Wait", Nicki said, "please wait. What about the...."

"About the... what?" Tom asked.

"That thing", Nicki said. "That thing that we..." 

She blushed from the roots of her hair right down to to tops of her breasts. 

"That thing, that spanking thing..." her voice petered off, lamely.

Tom stared at her. 

"Nicki", he said, "if you want something, you have to ask for it properly. What is it you want?"

"The spanking thing", she blurted, "the thing we talked about. Can we do it?"

"If you want to be spanked Nicki, you have to ask me properly."

Tom didn't seem phased by her statement, he just looked at her patiently. 

"Ask me properly."

"Please Tom, I want you to spank me. Please spank me, sir." 

Nicki did not know where the 'sir' had come from, but it sounded right. She heard her own voice, scarcely believing what she was saying.

"Please sir, I need to be punished."

Tom took her hand and led her into her living room, plonked her down on the settee and took the chair by the window. 

"OK", he said. "We need to get some things straight. You want me to spank you and if you agree to some conditions, I will." 

Nicki was faint with a mixture of gratitude, desire, and fear. 

"When I spank you", Tom continued, "you must understand that it will hurt. Really hurt. And once I start, I won't stop no matter how much you beg me. You will cry. Do you really want me to do this?"

Nicki didn't even have to think. She was already sopping wet and tingling, her panties in no fit state to be seen. How it humiliated her, that he would notice her arousal, flooding sex, her nipples like bullets thrusting against her bra. 

"Yes", she said, "please. Please punish me sir."

Tom looked at her coolly. 

"Stand up. Lift your skirt", he ordered. 

Nicki blushed again. 

"Could I just change my..." 

Tom interrupted her and coldly stated: "If this relationship is to progress, you need to understand that I will be obeyed immediately or I will go and you will never see me again. Now, stand and lift your skirt."

Nicki instantly obeyed. The curtains were open, and anyone walking outside the flat could have looked in and seen her, hands holding her skirt up to her navel, her white panties with a spreading dampness in the pubic area. The fear of such public humiliation seemed only to increase her desire. What was happening to her?

"Come here", Tom said. 

Nicki dropped her skirt and moved toward him. 

"I didn't tell you to put you skirt down", he said. "Lift it and keep it lifted." 

Nicki faced him, he still seated, examined her obvious state of arousal. He gently rubbed her thighs, and then caressed her nether lips through the fabric of her panties, she groaned. It seemed as if tiny electric shocks were running up and down her belly.

He pulled the top of her panties down and dispassionately examined her sex. Her pubic hair was sparse, tangled, blond and wispy. 

"No", he said. "This won't do at all. Go and fetch me a razor, a bowl of hot water, and some soap. You need to be shaved."

Shaved? Nicki was aghast. Shaved? 

"Why..."

"You will obey me now. Go and get the stuff and be quick."

Nicki stumbled to the bathroom, picked up the razor she had used on her legs from the shower cubicle, grabbed a bar of scented soap, and returned to the living room. The kitchenette was really just an extension of the living room, so she dug out a plastic bowl, filled it with hot water from the kitchen sink tap, and held it to her chest. Tears of humiliation started to run down her cheeks. 

"Take your skirt and knickers off and get on the kitchen table. Now. Lie on your back. Lift your knees and open your legs as wide as you can. Put your hands behind your head. Don't move them."

Nicki's skirt and panties were discarded on the floor. She sat on the edge of the kitchen table, Tom took the bowl from her hands. She was bright red with embarrassment. She lay back, and opened her legs wide.

Not wide enough. Tom forced her knees towards her ears, her sex and anus were now clearly visible, her vulnerable parts on display for Tom to see. He ran his fingers over her pussy, slipping a finger inside her. She was sopping wet. He wet her pubic hair with the hot water, and lathered her with the scented soap. In a few minutes, he had removed all her tangled pubes, paying particular attention to the area where her slit met up with her puckered anus, his fingers inside her, idly playing with her clit. Nicki was humiliated by this process, noticing how very much more naked her shaven cleft made her feel, but this humiliation only seemed to increase her desire tenfold. His fingers on and inside her were sending such sensations through her body that suddenly and totally to her surprise, she had a towering and powerful orgasm that left her shaken, gasping and horribly embarrassed.

Tom simply ignored her wanton display. He dried her pubic area with some kitchen roll, and then inspected her private areas closely and thoroughly. He pulled Nicki's nether lips apart and examined her wet tunnel. He inserted one, then two, then three fingers inside her and then withdrew his hand and sniffed his fingers. Nicki was mortified. He ordered her to turn onto her stomach and spread the cheeks of her bottom. She held them open with both hands while he leisurely explored the area around her tight and wrinkled anus. He then, to Nicki's surprise, opened her cutlery draw and rummaged inside. He withdrew a wooden spatula, that Nicki used for stirring spaghetti, flat headed with a broad blade.

He sat down again, this time on the settee.

"Come here. Bend over my knees." His voice was flat and cold. 

Nicki thought of closing the curtains, but the look on Tom's face told her that she should obey and obey quickly. She walked over toward him, feeling the strange sensation of the air circulating around her hairless snatch, and almost fell onto Tom's long legs, her bottom raised, her pussy rubbing up against his thighs. 

"Open your legs. Wider." 

Nicki adjusted her position, knowing Tom now had a good view of her anus and vagina. 

"Put your hands behind your head. Do not move them." 

When the first stroke of the spatula came down on her backside with a resounding 'crack', Nicki feared that she would faint. Pain flared over her buttocks, which angrily reddened immediately. 

She cried out, "No, please, not so hard." 

He simply ignored her cries. The spatula came down again, on the other cheek, even harder. Tears sprang from her eyes, to her horror she heard herself sobbing, her voice like a strangers, begging him to stop. She was angry, what right did he have to use her like this? Then she remembered that he had every right to use her thus. She had begged him to do so. Her nose started to stream. And something very strange was happening to her body. A wave of almost prehensile desire flowed through her, she became somehow even wetter, her buttocks were radiating signals of pain to her brain, but somehow, she was transcending this experience, translating it into something else. Crack, slap, whack. The spanking went on for, what seemed to Nicki, to be an eternity, but eventually Tom ceased the onslaught, and Nicki lay shuddering and sobbing over Tom's knees.

He said nothing. He didn't praise her or condemn her, compliment her or insult her. He idly ran his hand over her now burning backside, and started, to Nicki's horror, probing her anus with his middle finger. She had never had anyone do that to her before. What was he going to do?

"If we are to progress this relationship further", he said, "you will need to be stretched. Here." 

His finger was deep inside her rectum, her sphincter muscles clenched against this rudest of onslaughts. Stretched? Nicki was aghast. What did he mean? What would he do to stretch her? He removed his finger, pulled Nicki up and sat her down beside him. Her buttocks flared again as her abused skin came into contact with the fabric of the couch. She groaned and shuddered.

"Goodbye Nicki", Tom said, and pecked her on the cheek. 

He stood up and moved toward the door. Nicki was horrified. Wasn't he going to fuck her? She was desperate to feel him inside her. She was on the crest of another orgasm and he was just about to walk out of the door.

"No! " She begged, "Please don't go. Please sir. I need..."

"You need what? Nicki, if you want something you have to ask. Properly."

"I need to by fucked sir. I need to be fucked by you. Please, please fuck me sir."

Tom smiled. He grabbed her hair and pulled her down onto the carpet. He penetrated her without preamble, and slowly, sensually fucked her, long and hard. She came twice more, each orgasm bigger and more powerful than the last, his fingers clasping her bruised buttocks as he moved inside her. She finally lay exhausted, spent, throbbing, his juices trickling down her inner thighs, happier than she had ever been.


Nicki Submits Ch. 02



When Nicki awoke the next morning, in that pleasant half state between sleep and full wakefulness, she almost convinced herself that the whole episode had been a dream. Surely she would not have allowed Tom to do those things to her? Then, as she wriggled in bed she felt the residual soreness of her bottom and her hand brushing against her sex encountering the strange, obscene smoothness caused by the complete lack of her pubic hair. As full memory of what she had allowed Tom to do to her returned, Nicki felt deeply ashamed.

Nick had a very conventional upbringing. Although she was an intelligent young lady, probably more forward thinking than a lot of her peers, sexually she was always fairly conservative. She had gone out with boys from age 12 onward, learning to French kiss, eventually allowing one favoured boy to touch her breasts through her blouse and even, once, finger her slit through her school knickers. Aged 14, she lost her virginity to a spotty 16 year old called Darrell, in the school cricket pavilion during the end of term disco. It was over quickly, a couple of minutes of fumbling, a sharp pain which made her cry out briefly, a trickle of blood down her leg, a discarded condom on the grass verge. She was grateful to Darrell, and took him into her mouth, figuring the taste of his salty sperm was the least she could do to repay him for increasing her credibility in class.

She had not been the first of her peer group to lose her virginity, nor the last. Darrell dumped her a few days later, after another couple of blow jobs, and Nicki briefly enjoyed the reputation of 'school bike' until Wendy M regained the title after she sucked off the head boy while a line of prefects looked on, clapping and cheering.

Her subsequent sexual encounters were, on the whole, enjoyable. Her relationships were brief; she thought that boys despised her because she gave in too easily. She liked sex, her orgasms were pleasant, but she mistrusted anything that smacked of adventure or perversion. Oral sex was a duty she performed, more out of a feeling that she was expected to use it to keep her boyfriends interested in her than any enjoyment she got from the procedure. She didn't allow boys to go down on her, thinking that they would find her taste disgusting. When her friends talked about anal sex, Nicki was disgusted and affronted. It was perverse. Against nature. That hole was for one thing, and one thing only. When one of her longer-term boyfriends had suggested she might like to try it, she had given him a flat 'no'. When he asked again, she dumped him.

When Nicki became an actress, she did become a bit more adventurous; but there were lines, that in her map of the sexual world, could not be crossed.

Now Tom was talking of wanting to 'stretch her', presumably she thought, because he had plans to use her anally. He had already humiliated her by shaving her, spanking her and then making her beg him to fuck her. When he had pushed into her tight anus with his forefinger, and deeply buried it in her rectum, she had felt violated. The strength of her response to that humiliation, the mind-blowing sexual pleasure she had experienced last night, terrified her. Something had happened to her. She was turning into a monster. She should end this relationship right away. He was a married man, for god's sake! 

Nicki vowed that she would not see Tom again. He had told her to call him when she was ready. She simply wouldn't call. The pinkness and soreness of her bottom would fade, and gradually, the tangled fuzz of her pubes would regrow. The incident would be forgotten, life would return to normal. For a brief moment, she experienced panic at the prospect of losing her fantasies. But no, she had made the right decision. The wanton, submissive creature she had become last night, was not her.

A few days passed. Stubble was appearing on her nether lips: it itched like an unpleasant memory, a constant reminder of the obscenities that had occurred. It was driving her mad. She considered shaving again, just to get rid of the itch -- and the memories - but that, she thought, would be a retrograde step. She tried to ignore it. 

Tom had not called round, telephoned or emailed. On Saturday afternoon she went to the local with a girl friend, and saw him standing with a group of men, pints in hand, watching the rugby. There were the usual shouts of encouragement, groans and banter as the game progressed. She was horrified. What would he do when he saw her? What would he say? Would he approach her? She tried to shrink into the furniture, hoping he wouldn't see her. Of course he did. He simply gave her a friendly wave and smile, and then turned his attention back to the game and his mates. He said nothing to her and she left with her friend before the game ended, relieved but also, strangely disappointed.

Three days later and it was obvious that Nicki was not going to forget, and that her life was no longer and never would be normal, whatever that was. The seed of Tom's remark, planted deep within her fertile and febrile imagination, grew like some voracious tropical plant -- the kind that can grow six inches in a day -- leaving her physically overwhelmed with a desire so intense that even feverish masturbation (she had once played with herself six times in one day) could not satisfy her. It was as if her body demanded release, but her mind had realised that her fingers moving, rubbing, tickling, deep within, around and on her aching sex were not the real thing. During the day she felt drugged, her slit wet most of the time, her loins on fire, as if some loathsome Lothario had slipped some evil potion into her drink to allow him to have his wicked way with her. Her self-induced orgasms were intense, but unsatisfying. At night her fevered dreams fragmented into images of herself, usually viewed from above. She would be splayed, wide open, sometimes restrained with ropes or chains, and she could not distinguish if the noises coming from her were exclamations of pain or groans of desire. She awoke exhausted, hungry with desire, aflame, lambent.

When she could bear it no longer, she wrote Tom an email:

Dear Sir

I am ready. What do I need to do?

Love,

Nicki.

Before she clicked on the 'send' button, she thought about what his response might be and added another line before her closing 'Love':

I want you to stretch me. Please, will you stretch my anus, sir?

When she read what she had written she was mortified at her own display of weakness and horrified by her hunger. She sent the email. 

It was a further two days before Tom responded -- two days that passed with Nicki alternating between bouts of frenzied hope and black despair. Her disgust at her shameless submission made her angry at herself, and her body seemed to deal with the anger by becoming even more shameless in its relentless demands for satisfaction. Was she turning into a sex addict? Her aching clit demanded constant attention, and Nicki was unable to do the slightest mundane, humdrum task without a cascade of disturbingly pornographic images coming to mind. A few months ago, she had been normal, and then that stupid spanking remark had flipped a switch inside her brain, releasing who knows what noxious chemical substances inside her head. Was she sick? Had she released the pervert she had been carrying, unconsciously, inside her mind all these years? Nicki was considering phoning Tom to implore him to see her, when the reply she had been waiting for arrived:

Nicki:

I see you have learned some manners and asked properly. I will agree to your request on the following conditions:

When Nicki read the word 'agree' she was almost sick with relief. She hastily read on:

1. From now on it will be your responsibility to keep your pubic area and anus free of hair. You may do this in any way you choose: shaving, a cream hair remover or waxing. Be aware, however, that I do not like stubble and it may be better for you in the long run to be waxed.

2. It is my wish that you are freely available to me at all times. To accommodate this desire, you will, in future, not wear any underwear. Trousers, jeans and shorts will no longer be worn. You may instead, wear a skirt or dress, no longer than just below the knee. You may wear stockings with garters or suspender belt, but no tights. When I order you to lift your skirt, you will do so instantly without complaint or argument. You will wear a dress, blouse or shirt that allows me quick and unfettered access to your breasts.

3. You will purchase from www.bdsmgear.co.uk the Anal Butt Plug Training Kit, comprising of 3 plugs, small, medium and large. You will also need an enema kit, complete with some liquid scented soap solution. I leave the details to you. To make it easier for you, I strongly suggest you get a lubricant of some kind. I recommend a large tube of KY Jelly, which can be purchased inexpensively from the local chemist.

4. Failure to obey me will result in punishment, decided and administered by me. There will be no argument or complaint. The punishment will continue until I am satisfied that you have learned your lesson.

Nicki, you may fear that I am degrading you. Be aware, that through your own choice, you are actually degrading yourself. I am just the instrument that you choose to use. You may walk away from this at any time. That choice must, of course, be yours to make. Take your time. Be true to yourself, live in the moment. Be Here Now! If you choose to say no, I will understand and this relationship will be terminated, permanently. If you say yes, we will continue to explore your submissive nature to our mutual benefit.

If you agree to these conditions, and when you have all the necessary equipment in your possession, text or email me and I will come over. If I don't hear from you, I will assume that you have chosen not to continue with our adventure.

Tom.

Nicki read the email again, scarcely believing her eyes. There was no way on this earth that she could agree to these strictures. She was humiliated and affronted that Tom had even considered that she might. But then she read his penultimate paragraph again. Could he be right? After all, she was the one who wanted, no, needed to be degraded. Was she being handed power, rather than having power taken away from her? If she gave him the right to use her cruelly, then how could she complain when he did so? Nicki was beside herself, battling with these internal contradictions.

Something that had been lurking in the shadows of her mind, like a child playing hide and seek in the dark, sprang back into her consciousness. A few weeks after they first met, Tom had been booked to do a master skills workshop with the performing arts students at the local university. He had asked Nicki to assist him -- it would also be a chance for her to get a free workshop session, a bit of cash in hand, and improve her skill set. 

She had worked hard at the exercises, enjoying learning new skills and admiring Tom's teaching and the accessible way he explained some quite difficult concepts. The students were enthralled. During the afternoon session, Tom had talked about utilising processes to 'be in the moment' during performance, and was teaching some mindfulness techniques, borrowed from Zen Buddhism, to focus concentration on 'the now'. She remembered something he had said: 

"Only when you are present, in the moment, embracing what is happening to you, right here and now, are you really being yourself. Really being real. Remember this powerful affirmation: Be Here Now!"

Be Here Now! Of course, he was right. She remembered how impossible it would have been for her not to be in the moment when she was being spanked, fingered and fucked. How every sensation on her body was magnified, how very 'present' she was. How very much herself. How very, very real.

The prospect that her fevered imaginings could actually take place, that she might soon find herself back in that magical place, the 'now', excited her so much that she very nearly climaxed without even touching herself. She closed her eyes, thinking about what he would do to her, how he would humiliate and hurt her, how her body would betray her with her response. She had a moment of almost transcendental illumination: this was what she wanted. This was who she was. This new her was such a radical change from the old Nicki that her past self seemed wraith-like, chimeric, unreal, false. Be Here Now! She had to do it. 



Nicki Submits Ch. 03



Having made her decision, Nicki felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The future was now something to be savoured, rather than feared. She busied herself with preparations for her next exploration. Exploration! How she loved Tom's use of that word, what a concept! Like a taking a canoe up-river into the darkest regions of an unexplored continent, she would soon be pushing back the boundaries of her own sexual self-knowledge.

She carefully examined her pussy with a hand mirror. The lengthening blonde wispy stubble had to go, but what was the best way? If she had to shave every day, she was bound to miss out a few hairs, particularly on those hard to see areas where her cleft met up with her anus, or on the edge of her nether lips. Cream perhaps? She had never liked chemicals, and read several horror stories online about adverse side effects - internal burning and unsightly rashes caused by allergic reactions. Not cream then. It would have to be depilation. Waxing. Nicki hoped it wouldn't be too painful.

She phoned her local beauty salon and made an appointment. When the lady asked what it was that she needed done, Nicki reddened with embarrassment and stammered her request. But the lady seemed unsurprised, and Nicki was booked in for eleven that morning. Despite Tom's strict instructions, she pulled on a pair of fresh knickers before she left for the appointment. After all, what would they think if she turned up naked under her skirt?

When she arrived at the salon she was shown into a waiting area, comfortable leather chairs, magazines, a fish tank on the wall and a cup of coffee to boot! Several well-heeled, comfortable local matrons sat reading or gossiping quietly. Perhaps this wasn't going to be too bad. Then her name was called and she walked into the treatment room. Inside was a leather topped treatment couch, covered with a clean white cloth. Heated trays full of wax strips lay on a table next to the couch. There was also an apparatus that looked very much like the gynaecological stirrups used by her consultant the last time she had an internal examination. What caused Nicki to freeze in horror, however, was that the person standing by the treatment couch was more than familiar. Sonia! 

Nicki knew Sonia. Nicki had history with Sonia. She had no idea that Sonia was working as a beautician, or that she was employed by the salon. If she had, she would never have come. Sonia! Sonia who had been at school with her. Sonia, good at games, physically strong, but surely not the brightest girl on the block. Sonia who had bullied Nicki remorselessly during the fourth year. Sonia who had left school at 16 amid rumours that she had fucked a teacher, and to Nicki's eternal gratitude, had never come back. Sonia who Nicki had humiliated at the local pub quiz, showing up the girl's ignorance of culture and history. Sonia who had sworn at her, threatened her, called her a 'stuck up cunt' and told her she would one day get even. Nicki was scarlet with embarrassment. What a huge mistake. She had to leave and leave now. What should she say?

Before she had a chance to say or do anything, Sonia grasped her shoulder.

"Nicki! Long time no see! You are looking very well. Very pretty. You should let me do something with your nails though. You don't bite them do you? My, you are nice and slim. Very fit looking. Lovely legs. Bit small in the chest department. Have you considered a boob job? Not too expensive these days, makes a big difference. Men, always pleasing men. Daft, innit?"

As she was talking, she pushed Nicki back; her legs met the side of the couch and she almost fell down onto it.

"Why, you're blushing! Not frightened are you? Now, now, girl, nothing to worry about. Let's have a quick gander then. Let the dog see the rabbit, or..." Sonia sniggered, "in your case, the pussy."

Nicki felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, humiliation flooding through her body. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sonia's strong arms pushed her onto her back, and then very matter-of-factly, lifted her skirt, pulled down her knickers, removed them, and after examining them and spitefully remarking at how surprisingly nice and clean they were, tossed them onto the table. Sonia hands grasped Nicki's knees and roughly forced her legs apart, revealing the stubbled surface of her slit. Sonia examined her pubis with a fierce and malicious interest.

"Ooh! Bit of a mess down there! Never mind, we can soon get you as smooth as a baby's bottom. Let me just see how far the hair extends..."

She pulled Nicki's vaginal lips apart, and started, to Nicki's abject horror, to feel inside her tunnel, which obligingly flooded with moisture to make her job easier. This was wrong! Surely Sonia shouldn't be feeling inside Nicki's snatch?

"Hmm. Alright. Very wet, aren't we. You sure you're not a bit of a lezza? Doing this for your boyfriend are you? Bit demanding is he? Didn't know you had a boyfriend. You'd be surprised how many girls I get in here for total waxing. Pubic hair, gone out of fashion! Who'd have thought? Porn industry got a lot to answer for. Oh well, we all gotta suffer for our art. You should know that, being an actress. Done any porn yourself?" 

Nicki was speechless with humiliation. Sonia idly tweaked Nicki's throbbing clitoris a few times, sniffed her fingers, grimaced, wiped her fingers on Nicki's powder blue skirt leaving a smeary stain, and starting humming some vapid pop melody as she busied herself with her equipment, finally turning to Nicki again.

"Now. Your pubes are a bit short for the wax to get a good grip, so we might have to do several repeats to remove it all. It's going to sting a bit, so what I'm going to do is secure your hands to the end of the couch, otherwise you'll keep moving them to protect your fanny and interfere with my work, and we wouldn't want that, would we? Don't worry, it's for your own good."

As she said this, she pinioned Nicki's arms with her powerful grasp, and in seconds had secured Nicki's wrists to a bar at the top end of the couch with two leather, buckled straps. Nicki opened her mouth again, this time in horrified protest, and again, nothing came out. If Sonia was enjoying Nicki's discomfort and humiliation, she didn't show it. Nicki started to weep, tears creeping down her scarlet cheeks, burning with shame.

"Crying already? We haven't even started yet. Silly girl! Now come on, buck up. It's all paid for and organised and we are going to get this done. I've carried out this procedure hundreds of times, no complaints. You are a silly goose! Lets just get you up on the stirrups, and then we can begin."

She fitted the stand under Nicki's knees, forcing her to arch her back and raise her buttocks off the surface of the table, her weight now resting on her upper back and shoulders. Then quickly, she strapped Nicki's ankles into the stirrups that pulled her legs wide apart, exposing her private areas to Sonia's seemingly too interested gaze and less than tender ministrations. Nicki tried to move and found she couldn't; she was stretched wide open, sex splayed, the neat asterisk of her anus exposed, expertly pinioned and secured. She felt a trickle of moisture running down her thighs from her over-wet pussy, and the familiar, mortifying swelling of desire from the humiliation she felt in her position and the fear of the harsh treatment she knew she could expect from Sonia. Sonia was going to get even, in spades.

Nicki felt burning on the inside of her thighs as Sonia applied the first hot wax strips, one on either side of Nicki's gaping sex. She groaned in protest. Sonia grinned, evilly. Her voice was almost sing song, pitched high, soft, as if she was talking to a baby.

"We'll just wait for the wax to cool and harden, and then... Zip! Off it comes, and out comes your hair. By the roots. Going to sting a bit... Oh, just a minute..."

Sonia rummaged in a draw on the equipment table and came up with a smallish rubber ball, attached to a thin leather thong.

"Now we'll just pop this in to keep you quiet. Don't want people in the waiting room hearing you make a lot of fuss about a simple little procedure, do we?"

As Nicki opened her mouth to protest, Sonia popped the ball gag between her teeth, and then secured it firmly behind Nicki's head. Now Nicki couldn't speak, even if she had the power to do so. Unable to close or open her mouth, the ball pressing down on her tongue, she took long shuddering breaths through her nose, trying to calm herself, fear and panic rising in her chest.

"Bite down on that, it might take your mind off the pain."

Nicki was expecting Sonia to pull the strips off quickly, to minimise her discomfort, but Sonia pulled them off very slowly indeed, the hairs being first pulled, then stretched and finally torn painfully from Nicki's tortured skin. Soon her thighs were the same colour as her mortified cheeks, bright red. Strangled moans came from behind the ball gag, she tried to beg Sonia to stop but the gag prevented her from speaking. Tears were now pouring down her face, her mascara smearing down her cheeks, her nose running like a snotty toddler's on a winter day.

Sonia ignored her moans, applying fresh, very hot strips of wax to Nicki's inner thighs and sex, inserting her fingers inside Nicki's dripping cleft, probing the walls of her vaginal passage, rubbing her erect clitoris at the same time as she slowly, maliciously pulled off the hardened wax, patterned now with spikes of pubic hair from Nicki's rapidly reddening, burning and throbbing slit. Nicki, beside herself with pain and humiliation, climaxed, shuddering and jerking up and down against her restraints, her snorting, gasping moans thankfully muffled by the rubber ball, saliva dribbling down her chin and mingling with her tears. Oh lord! Had Sonia noticed her come?

"There now, nearly done. Just need a bit of cleaning up, some stubborn little buggers."

Sonia took out some tweezers and slowly and deliberately pulled out each remaining hair, one at a time. Thankfully, there weren't that many left. Then she carefully examined Nicki's crotch and anus, picked up a tub of moisturising cream, applied it liberally to the red and inflamed area, and started slowly rubbing it in. Nicki came again, bucking against her restraints, gasping for air through her streaming nose.

"Feels good, don't it? Use this tonight and tomorrow, and you'll be as right as rain. On the house."

Sonia swiftly removed the gag and straps, pulled Nicki to her feet, handed her her knickers and the tub of cream and quickly and efficiently ushered her out of the door and into the waiting room. Nicki almost stumbled, weak at the knees.

"Bye Nicki, Don't be a stranger. So lovely to catch up. See you soon."

Nicki suddenly realised that the women in the now packed waiting room were gaping at her appearance, her mascara ruined, tear stained face, red nose and eyes, knickers fluttering like a wounded dove in her hand. She went bright scarlet again, hastily crumpled her panties into her handbag, and hurried out of the salon, almost running home, the cold air drifting up her skirt playing around her inflamed and scarlet snatch. What a humiliating disaster! She flung herself on the settee and wept.

After a couple of hours, Nicki pulled herself together, washed her ravaged face and applied some make-up. Sonia had been as good as her word, and Nicki's sex, though bright red, tender to the touch and slightly swollen, was totally and absolutely hair free and smooth to Nicki's exploring fingers. What Sonia had done to Nicki was wrong -- it was nothing more or less than assault. Nicki knew she couldn't go to the police: Sonia would just claim that Nicki had booked in for a total wax and then couldn't stand the pain. She had no way of proving that what Sonia had done to her was abusive. Nicki vowed that she would make Sonia pay for what she had done. She had begged Tom to abuse her, had given him the right to use her. But Sonia had overpowered her and taken advantage in a cruel and malicious way. It was almost rape. Sonia would pay!

Nicki put her thoughts of revenge on the back burner for the moment, and concentrated on getting ready for Tom's next visit. She visited the web link Tom had sent her and looked at the bewildering variety of implements on offer. Luckily, the Anal Training Pack was easy to find, and the picture of the three butt plugs was intriguing. They looked a little like small vases, tapering at one end to a blunt point, expanding in width, then dropping off again and ending with a round 'stand'. Nicki found herself imagining what it would be like when they were inserted into her rectum. She shuddered, with a mixture of fear and delight. They were on sale, less than £20 for the pack. She added them to her shopping basket, along with a basic, inexpensive enema kit and soap solution and was just about to check out and pay when something caught her eye.

It was a picture of a stiff leather strap with split ends. The description read simply: Leather Spanking Tawse - A substantial leather tawse made of premium quality leather featuring a retaining strap, split ends and a solid handle for added control.

Nicki was horribly fascinated. Tom had spanked her with her own wooden kitchen spatula, and now every time she used it for cooking it brought back erotic memories. But it wasn't ideal. Something like this looked like it could hurt a lot more. She shuddered and hoped that Tom didn't have anything remotely like this that her would use on her. Then, Nicki went into what she could only describe later, as a 'dream state'. She found herself, mouth slightly open, tongue on her lips, adding the tawse to her shopping basket, going to the checkout, selecting express delivery and paying via her debit card. Then, she berated herself. Why on earth had she done that? What in the world had made her do it? She vowed, that when it arrived, she would hide it somewhere. Tom would never use it on her. But then, why was she damp at the prospect? Her goods were due to arrive tomorrow. She would text Tom as soon as the package came. Dear God, she prayed, please make him come soon. Now, where would she hide the tawse?



Nicki Submits Ch. 04



Seated in the coffee shop on the high street, opposite the beauty salon, Nicki had a great view of the salon's waiting room. She was also beginning to understand the implications of Tom forbidding her to wear underwear. Walking down the high street, the winter wind blowing strongly, she had been acutely aware that a thin layer of skirt fabric was all that separated her nakedness from the outside world. Her hairless sex, now a healthy pink rather than the inflamed, swollen red left by Sonia's evil ministrations, felt the cold wind rising up around her legs and playing around her groin, making her feel even more vulnerable. She had to continually hold her skirt down as the wind threatened to blow it up and reveal her nudity. 

The effect this was having on her body was startling. She seemed to be in a state of continual arousal, her clit tingling in either anticipation or memory -- she was never sure which -- and her vaginal tunnel fruitlessly lubricating itself in the expectation of imminent penetration. When she sat down, she had to pull her skirt out so that her naked buttocks were in contact with the seat; because she was so wet, she often left a visible reminder of her excited state on the leather, plastic or fabric of the seat.

She had gone into the chemist to buy a large tube of KY Jelly, as per Tom's instructions. The assistant had smirked when she paid for it, as if she knew what it was for, and Nicki felt herself blush as she put the lubricant into her handbag. The temperature had plummeted, frost on the windows of the cars, and Nicki would normally be wearing tights against the cold, but they were now forbidden. She went to the lingerie shop and purchased several pairs of stockings, some garters, and a pretty pink and black suspender belt. When she got to the coffee shop she went into the ladies and put on a pair of sheer black stockings and the suspender belt. It looked incredibly pornographic. 

As she admired herself in the bathroom mirror, skirt pulled up to her navel, another woman walked in. Nicki hurriedly pulled her skirt down, her cheeks aflame. However, the woman just smiled and said, "Someone's in for a lucky time today", and then winked. Nicki stammered some banality, and hastily picked up her packages.

Nicki re-entered the shop and ordered a large cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles. She was aware that she would have to watch herself when she sat down, in order to avoid her skirt riding up and revealing her pink snatch to the world. She pulled her skirt out as she sat down, so that her bottom was resting on the wooden surface of the chair. She was achingly, delightfully moist and did not want to leave the tell-tale smear of her naked desire on her pink flared skirt. This was going to do her posture the world of good. She put her laptop on the table, opened the lid and logged on to the coffee shop's free wifi network, trying not to think about her dampening slit or the cool wooden surface of the chair pressing against her naked buttocks.

Her packages had arrived safely that morning. Nicki had excitedly ripped open the box as soon as the courier had departed with his electronic signature. She examined her merchandise with a mixture of trepidation and desire. The butt plugs were heavier than she expected, made of some hard rubber compound. They looked a little like miniature vases, tapered at one end, thickening considerably in the middle, then tapering again with a little round 'stand' on the bottom. Nicki eyed them apprehensively. Even the small one looked much too big to fit comfortably into her tight bottom hole. As for the large one... Nicki shuddered. The enema kit came with a set of instructions that Nicki would read later. Then, there was the tawse. 

Nicki was horribly fascinated by the tawse. She picked it up and examined it closely -- again, it was heavier than she expected. It was about 15 inches long, and had a stiff leather handle, the attached leather strap split into two tails. It looked terrifying, and Nicki brought it down with a slap onto her thigh. Ouch! She resolved to hide it. She would put it in the bottom of her knicker draw where it would remain her secret. After all, she wasn't going to be wearing panties for the foreseeable future! She then picked up her smartphone and texted Tom: 'Sir, the merchandise has arrived. I am ready for you. Please come soon!'

His reply had come almost immediately. Tom was away in London, for an audition. Nicki's heart sank. Then, as she read on, she almost cried out with joy: Tom's wife was away recording. He could spend the weekend with her! Friday afternoon, Friday night, all day Saturday and Saturday night! He would return home on Sunday. It was almost too good to be true! Nicki laughed, and sang, and danced with delight. Today being Thursday, she would see Tom tomorrow! She decided what to do with her day: shopping, the high street, coffee, Sonia. It was time for Sonia to get her comeuppance.

Before Nicki went to Malaysia, she had spent some time teaching drama at the local community college. It was a temporary job, filling in for someone on maternity leave. The pupils were an unruly bunch, and Nicki had struggled to maintain order and keep them interested in the subject. They were also supremely untalented, apart from one: Celeste. Celeste wanted to be a performer. She was 16 at the time, and there was something about her that grabbed Nicki's attention. The girl was a natural. She was, in many ways, very like Nicki. Her breasts were smaller, almost boyish, but she had a pretty, elfin face, long legs , pert round bum and a good figure. She could almost have been Nicki's sister. She talked to Celeste about the possibility of her applying to drama school or university and encouraged her to think about joining the acting profession.

Nicki had left the school when the regular drama teacher returned, but Celeste had stayed in touch. She asked Nicki to give her extra tuition, work on her audition speeches for drama school, and help her with her A Level project work. Nicki was more than happy to help her, and felt gratified by Celeste's appreciation of her drama skills. Before she started her A Level course, Celeste had taken a Saturday job as a receptionist in the beauty salon. Nicki remembered Celeste talking about the computerised booking system, which she had to update. Beauticians could log on remotely, from home, to check their work schedule, and Celeste was scathing about the lack of security on the computerised system.

Most employees logged on, Celeste had told her, using their name as their password -- something that computer security experts were always complaining about. Celeste also noticed that the administrator password had not been properly set, and that the default login of 'admin' with 'password' as the password had never been changed. It would be so easy for anyone to hack into the system, she had said.

So, yesterday, Nicki had done just that. She went onto the salon's website, clicked on 'Staff Only' and logged in with username 'Sonia' and password 'Sonia'. Bingo! She was into Sonia's forthcoming appointments. Nicki scanned the list before a particular name sprang out at her. Thursday, 9:45 am, Mrs Lehman-Jones. Exfoliating scrub and facemask. 

Mrs Lehman-Jones was a local legend. A stout, elderly matron, slightly deaf, normally dressed in tweeds and sensible brogues, three times mayor, a magistrate and pillar of the local community. Not a helpless old lady either. Once a luckless local junkie had made the mistake of attempting to rip her handbag from her shoulder as she walked down the street. Mrs Lehman-Jones had set about him with her heavy wooden walking stick, breaking two of his ribs and putting him in hospital for a week. The local papers had loved it.

Nicki knew that Sonia was lazy. She would probably log onto her job sheet when she arrived at work, to check the morning's rota. Nicki logged in as the system administrator, using the username 'admin' and the password 'password', gaining full access. She changed Mrs Lehman-Jones's treatment to 'Full pubic wax', and in the comments section added: 'Mrs Lehman-Jones is slightly nervous about this procedure. She likes a firm hand.' Nicki then logged out and vowed to be there to watch the fun.

Now, seated at the table by the window, licking off a moustache of cappuccino foam from her upper lip, Nicki was watching the waiting room opposite. Mrs Lehman-Jones arrived 5 minutes early, and was greeted with a coffee while she waited. Finally, Sonia appeared at the door of the treatment room and called her in. Nicki immediately logged back into the system and changed the treatment back to 'Exfoliating scrub and facemask' and deleted the comment. Then she logged out, closed the lid of her laptop, took another sip of her excellent coffee, and waited and watched.

After about three minutes there was an explosion of activity. The door of the treatment room flew open, and Sonia ran out, a bright pink hand mark visible on her white cheek. Mrs Lehman-Jones flew out after her, red in the face, shouting.

Even through two sets of windows and a dividing street, Nicki could hear her strident voice:

"Lesbian! Pervert! ...Assault ...manager... police... disgusting!"

Sonia was holding both hands up, trying to fend Mrs Lehman-Jones off. The manageress came running into the room. Nicki watched as Sonia, flustered and apprehensive about Mrs Lehman-Jones's onslaught, tried to explain things to the manageress. There was a lot of gesticulation and some more verbal explosions from the elderly lady. Nicki noticed a wax strip dangling from the bottom of Mrs Lehman-Jones's tweed skirt, and started to giggle, helplessly. The manageress walked over to the computer and brought up details on the screen. She pointed, and Sonia came over to read the screen. Nicki could just make out her protests:

"But... but... it said... it's changed."

Then she did what Sonia had always done, at school. She lost her temper and started shouting at the manageress and Mrs Lehman-Jones. It escalated rapidly:

"Fucking old cunt! ...dare you slap me ... Just doing my job... I'm telling you what I saw... stick your fucking job then..!"

Things went nuclear, like they always did with Sonia. The salon staff got involved, trying to cool Sonia down. The police were called, Mrs Lehman-Jones still furious giving them full details of her 'assault'. They escorted Sonia off the premises, her personal effects in a cardboard box. As she was leaving, Sonia looked into the coffee shop and saw Nicki watching her, grinning. She exploded angrily: 

"You stupid fucking cunt! What the fuck are you looking at?" 

The woman police constable told her to stop shouting expletives and attempted to pull her away from the window. A punch was thrown, there was a flurry of police activity, and Sonia was bundled into the back of a police van and driven away. Nicki was delighted with her morning's work. Sonia dealt with, Tom arriving tomorrow. She shivered with desire, trepidation and anticipation.

Friday eventually arrived, Nicki waking early, drowsily delighting in the smoothness of her lower body to her wondering, exploring hands. She got up, dressed hurriedly and started to prepare for Tom's visit. She stripped the bed and put on clean sheets, duvet cover and pillowcases, dusted, vacuumed and polished until the small flat shone. She put some white wine into the fridge, and took a bottle of red and placed it on the kitchen table. She made sure the wine glasses were spotless, put some fresh flowers into a vase in the living room, plumped up the cushions on the settee and laid a log fire in the small fireplace in the living room. By lunchtime, the flat was ready. Time for her to prepare herself.

Nicki hated the thought of Tom giving her an enema. That would be too humiliating to bear! The thought of him seeing her with soapy water and god knows what else squirting out of her backside disgusted her. It might make a rude noise, too. No. Nicki would spare him and herself that experience, and would do it herself, before he arrived. Then she would casually mention that she had cleansed herself and was ready for him to do whatever he was going to do to her.

Nicki took the enema kit into the bathroom, read the instructions, and filled the bag up with a solution of hot water and liquid soap. Once the liquid was inside her, she would have to keep it there for five minutes before she released it, and would then rinse with hot water until it ran clear. She eyed the apparatus nervously -- a bag a little like a hot water bottle, with a tube coming out of it that ended in a nozzle. The nozzle would be inserted into her rectum, the bottle squeezed, pushing the soapy water into her bowels. The instructions said she might feel a burning sensation (that would be the soap) and some cramping in her stomach.

She stripped naked and climbed into the empty bath, in case of spillages, got on her hands and knees, placed the enema bottle on the side of the bath, took the nozzle in one hand, reached around behind her and attempted to push the nozzle into her tight hole. Beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip. She groaned as the nozzle stretched her anus and slowly sank deep into her back passage. When she felt it was in far enough, she started to squeeze the bottle.

The feeling of the hot, soapy water penetrating inside her was a new and intense experience. She moaned. Nicki squeezed and squeezed, feeling herself fill up, her tummy starting to swell. She felt impossibly full. She was sure she would not be able to hold it in for more than a few seconds. Then, the soap solution started to burn inside her as well. She clenched her buttocks, the need to got to the toilet and evacuate what was inside her becoming more and more urgent. She looked at her watch. Less that a minute had passed. She couldn't hold it! Sweat was now bubbling up on her forehead. The burning peaked, Nicki groaning loudly. God this was terrible! But she was going to do her best to keep it in for the full five minutes. This was so uncomfortable, and this was just liquid and a thinnish nozzle. Tom was going to stretch her even more widely with those damn butt plugs. She wouldn't be able to bear it. Tears started run down her cheeks, her face red, her eyes screwed up, cramping pains running up her belly.

After what seemed an eternity, five minutes was up. Nicki staggered to the toilet, pulled the nozzle out of her back passage, and thankfully and mercifully released an explosive torrent of evil smelling brown water into the toilet. Her passage was still feeling the burn of the soap. She needed to rinse, quickly. She desperately filled the bottle with hot water again, got back into the bath, and pumped herself full again. She held it inside her for a minute, and then released it into the toilet. She did that twice more until the water streaming from her bowels was clear. She shuddered with relief, the burn fading to a dull ache. At least she was now cleansed internally, ready for Tom to go to work on her.

Nicki took a long shower, luxuriating in the cascade of hot water over her body. She shampooed her hair, soaped her body, spent much too much time soaping between her legs, conditioned her hair, shaved her legs and arm pits, and emerged pink and fragrant into the steamy air. She was going to look her very best when Tom arrived. She dried and styled her hair, applied fresh make-up with some rather nice deep red lipstick, and started to dress. She had chosen to wear her little black cocktail dress -- lacy bodice buttoned up the front, artfully cut to show off her small cleavage, belted high with a figure hugging skirt finishing about three inches above her knees. Silk stockings with brocaded garters tight around her upper thighs. Her black stiletto 'fuck me' shoes. 

She eyed her reflection in the mirror, liking what she saw, and hoping that Tom would like it too. She laid out the butt plugs in a neat little line on the kitchen table, putting the tube of lubricant next to them, alongside the wine. She picked up the tawse, hesitated for a moment, and then placed it underneath a pile of panties in their draw in the bedroom, closing it firmly. Tom surely wouldn't find it there. Finally, she poured herself a glass of red (Dutch courage, she told herself) and sat on the settee to await Tom's arrival.

As she waited, sipping her wine, Nicki realised something: Tom had never kissed her properly. He had pecked her on the cheek, but never kissed her lips, like a lover. Also, he had not yet touched her breasts. Their last encounter had been strictly 'below the belt'. He had shaved her pubes, beaten her buttocks with a wooden spatula, fingered her anus, and finally fucked her. She had still been wearing her blouse throughout, he had never ordered her to take it off. After he had finished with her, he had kissed her cheek and departed. She wondered if this encounter would be different? Perhaps her breasts were too small to interest him? Sonia had said they were too small. But was that just Sonia?

Tom arrived at 4:00pm, carrying a small overnight bag. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, brown boots and a black corduroy shirt. He put the bag down in the living room and looked at Nicki, standing before him, already blushing with embarrassment at her desire. He examined her dispassionately. 

"Lift your skirt."

Nicki felt her ears go red. He hadn't even said 'hello' or asked her how she was or any of the social niceties. She pulled her skirt up to her navel. 

"Come here."

She approached him, remembering this time to keep her skirt raised. He sat down by the kitchen table, pulled Nicki towards him and examined her closely and thoroughly.

"Have you prepared yourself for me?"

"Yes sir", Nicki replied, "I've been waxed and I've...", she paused, searching for the right words, "...cleaned inside myself for you."

"Strip."

Nicki had never been totally naked in front of Tom before. Again, she blushed scarlet. She turned away from him and unbuttoned her dress, shrugging it onto the floor. She stood in front of Tom, naked but for her stockings and stilettos. She noticed that even the lips of her sex seemed to blush, turning pinker, flushed with desire. She was getting wetter as well.

"Stand in front of me. Put your hands behind your head. Don't move them. Open your legs."

Nicki stood before him, her hands behind her head pushing her breasts forward and up. She stood with her legs as wide apart as she could. Tom ran his fingers up and down her stockinged thighs. Nicki heard herself moan. His fingers slipped inside her, playing with the erect nub of her clitoris. Nicki almost fell against him, cascading sensations playing up and down her sex and belly.

"Turn around. Bend over. Keep your hands behind your head."

She turned and bent, displaying her buttocks, the puckered rim of her cute, tight anus clearly visible. Tom inserted his thumb deep into her rectum, pulled it out and sniffed it. Hot tears of humiliation were pricking at the corners of Nicki's eyes. He pulled her into a kneeling position, on the carpet. He reached out, and caressed her breasts, rolling her hard nipples between his forefinger and thumb. He pinched down. Nicki took a swift intake of breath, hissing with the erotic pain, tremors running down her body. She wanted Tom inside her. Tom sighed.

"Sit down Nicki. We need to talk."

She sat, almost paralysed by the fear gripping her whole being. He was going to dump her. He wasn't pleased with her. She was going to lose him. Misery seemed to explode inside her tummy. Was she not clean enough? Had it all been for nothing? Had she changed from being a normal young woman into some kind of frenzied sexualised misfit, desperate to please this man in front of her, this man whom she had begged to humiliate and abuse her, just to fall at the final hurdle? It was too much to bear. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her shoes. She stared at the floor, abject. Tom put his hand under her chin, raising her face.




Nicki Submits Ch. 04



"Look at me."

Nicki raised her eyes to meet his.

"I've not been fair to you. I have to confess that you open yourself to humiliation and punishment like no-one I have ever known. I find that very arousing. I am very lucky that you have chosen to be degraded by me, and I love degrading and abusing you. But..."

Nicki expected Tom to say something like: "But it's all over between us." Instead:

"...with power, comes responsibility. I should have made that plain from the start. I apologise, and I have a proposal for you."

Tom reached into his bag and pulled out a gift-wrapped box. He handed it to Nicki. She took it, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Open it."

Nicki undid the wrapping and opened the box. Inside was a jet black leather collar, her name engraved in a silver metal plate inset into the leather. Next to the collar was a black velvet choker with a silver brocade pattern.

"Now listen very carefully. I want you to go into the bedroom and think, for at least 15 minutes. When you come out, you will either be wearing the collar, or not. If not, I will leave and your life will continue without me. If you choose to put the collar on, you are choosing total submission to me. I will own you. I will control you and the holes in your body. I will decide on how they are to be used and who will use them. I will punish, defile, degrade and abuse you like you have never been abused before. But... I will protect you as well. Although I will hurt you, I will never damage you permanently and I will ensure that any other people I may allow to abuse you do not damage you either."

Nicki seemed to have slipped into a trance state. She was trying to process this information. Part of her was horrified, but she felt her body responding so strongly to Tom's words that she was almost faint with desire.

"If you choose to wear the collar, you will wear it whenever we are together as a symbol of your complete submission to me. When we are not together, you may wear the choker. But you will always wear one or the other. I have another gift for you, one that will add to your humiliation. It is a word. The word is 'Zebra'. At any moment, at any time, you can use this word to end your ordeal. If you are being punished, the punishment will stop as soon as you say it. It is important to me that you realise that you are degrading yourself. You can choose to free yourself from me at any time. Use the word, and everything stops for 24 hours. I go away, you think. Use the word three times in one week, and everything stops permanently. Do you understand?"

Nicki nodded, dumbfounded. She realised she still had her hands behind her head.

"Go into the bedroom. Think. I will wait here. Make your decision."

Nicki tremulously stood up, still looking into Tom's eyes. She picked up the box containing the collar and choker, turned and walked into the bedroom. She closed the door and sat on the bed. She was in turmoil. This was going to be the biggest decision of her life. What was she going to do? Could she go back to her old life, continue as she had before? She realised that she had been profoundly changed, but did she like the person she had become? What would happen to her if she said yes? More importantly, what would happen if she said no? 

Tom waited in the living room, sipping a glass of red wine. The minutes ticked away. The silence in the flat hung like an accusation in the air. Had he gone too far? He heard a padding of footsteps, the door opened and Nicki walked into the living room, the collar fixed around her slender neck. Her eyes shone with pride. She walked slowly up to Tom, a naked goddess of eroticism, her sex almost glowing with a radiant energy in the evening light. She had something in her hand. She looked into his eyes and kissed him on the lips, her tongue lingering in his mouth, for the very first time.

"I have made my choice, master. I also have a present for you." she said. 

She handed him the tawse.



Nicki Submits Ch. 05



Before Nicki came out of her bedroom wearing Tom's collar, she had been sitting on her bed, naked but for stockings and stilettos, thinking about what to do. A few months ago she had been a normal young women, trying to make her way in a difficult profession, doing the things she had always done, seeing the friends she had always seen. Then, a chance remark had changed her profoundly. Nicki had been frightened by the white-hot intensity of her desire, and excited by the dark perverseness of her fantasies. 

Previously, she had never considered herself a very sexual being -- yet her physical response to the humiliation and abuse that Tom inflicted on her, was too strong to ignore. It had built up inside her and screamed for attention. She tried to think about the future of their relationship. Did he love her? Did she love him? She truthfully could not answer that question. Tom had said he loved abusing her. That was not the same thing as love, was it? But he had also said that he was lucky that she had chosen him to degrade her. He had also said that he would look after her and protect her. So that meant he cared for her. Probably. Did that mean that he loved her? Who knows. What about her? Did she love him?

She needed him. She was desperate for his abuse. That definitely wasn't the same thing. At the moment she was very much the prisoner of her own desire -- yet, because it was her desire, this meant that she was her own jailer too! Complicated. Tom had then made it even more complicated, by giving her a word. Essentially, she was a prisoner, but as her own jailer, she also possessed the key to her freedom. He was right -- it made it much more humiliating for her to know that simply by saying a word, she could end her ordeal. But she knew that though she might one day be free of him, she would never now be free of her desire. How much more humiliating it was for her to know that she had the power to end her degradation - that she was choosing to be abused - and how powerfully and surprisingly erotic she found that humiliation.

Putting thoughts of love aside, Nicki realised that she felt more complete surrendering to Tom than she had ever felt before. Tom had once said that actors should always aspire to live in the 'now', the ineffable present, rather than worry about the past or obsess about the future. When he was using her, drawing a lattice of pain on her white body, she was totally present. It was impossible not to be. As they were both performers, was it possible that they were merely playing roles? Had they perhaps fallen into the roles so completely, that like actors caught in 'the method' they had become the characters they were playing? 

Nicki realised that she had turned into a creature trapped in a sensorium, desiring pain and pleasure, driven by humiliation. What was she experiencing, what was happening to her right here, at this moment in time? There was her wetness, an obvious sign of her arousal. Her clit, aching for Tom's touch. The pictures she invented of the humiliation he was going to inflict on her anus that were sending shivers through her whole body. Love might be nice, but her desire was aflame, desperate, paramount. She needed to be used by him, and he needed to use her. That was enough for now.

When she had kissed Tom, on the lips, for the first time, he said nothing to her, didn't applaud her for her choice or thank her for the caress. He had taken her by the shoulders, turned her around, and bent her over the kitchen table, the nipples of her small breasts erect against the cold wood. He had placed her hands behind her head, told her not to move them -- she always felt pinioned by this, unable to move, although she was not physically restrained -- then he had pushed her legs wide apart, leaving her teetering on her high heels, her weight on her breasts, her sex open to him, buttocks exposed, her face against the wood.

Tom unzipped his jeans and entered her from behind, pushing his erect member into her wet and throbbing tunnel. He moved slowly, his penis pushing upwards, massaging the wall between her vagina and her anus. Tremulous sparks of lust exploded in her groin. She started to make little mewling sounds of passion, frantically thrusting backwards onto his firm cock. He slapped her buttocks hard. The pain flared on her reddening flesh, making her movements even more frantic.

"Not yet. Don't move. Stay still."

Nicki fought against her instinct to grind against him. He casually spread the cheeks of her arse to reveal her anus and she felt the terrible flush of embarrassment from this wanton display travel from her sex, to her belly, her breasts and then to her face. Her ears grew hot. Tom picked up the tube of lubricant, unscrewed the lid, and inserted the nozzle into Nicki's tight hole. He squeezed, and Nicki moaned as the cold jelly spread into her back passage. Tom started slowly to massage the lubricating gel deeply into Nicki's anus, using his thumb. Although she was disgusted by what her was doing to her, she started to thrust against his hand. Smack! Another powerful slap. Now two deepening red hand marks on Nicki's pink behind. She could not tell if the exclamation that escaped her lips was pain or arousal.

"I told you not to move. Be still."

He picked up the smallest of the butt plugs, lubricated it with jelly, and started to push it, very slowly, into Nicki's rear, swivelling it from side to side. It felt huge, alien, invasive, wrong, perverse, erotic. Nicki groaned, beads of sweat springing onto her upper lip. Tom pulled it slightly back and then remorselessly and slowly pushed it millimetre by millimetre into her tight tunnel. Oh god, it was too big. She started to feel it hurt.

"Please stop. It's too big. It won't fit... Oh God, take it out..."

For a moment she thought he was listening to her, he started slowly pulling it out, but then he twisted it and pushed it in some more. Nicki felt herself stretching and stretching, feeling impossibly full. Little cramping pains started to flicker from her anus through to her belly. As it entered her, her anal tunnel fought back, trying to expel the rude intruder. The cramps became bigger and bigger, the pain growing inside her as she stretched.

"Oh God, no! Please! It's too big. I'll never take it..."

Again, Tom pulled back, again he slowly pressed it in, this time massaging the wall between her vagina and her anus with his penis. The thickest part of the plug was now entering her, stretching her sphincter. Tom's penis caressed her inside. 

"Relax, Nicki. Don't fight it. Concentrate on how it feels, now. Surrender to it."

His voice was hypnotic. Nicki stopped struggling against the intrusion. The cramping sensation died down. Her sphincter seemed to surrender the unequal struggle and she felt herself relax and open, and the butt plug finally entered her completely, her anus closing over the tapering stand, the round stand of the plug flush against her buttocks. God she was so full! Tom's penis filling her wet pussy, the butt plug filling and stretching her where she had never been filled and stretched before. And Tom had seen her anus being distended, stretched and filled at the same time her was using her vaginally. She had never let anyone do this to her before. She was scarlet with embarrassment and hot with shame at the thought of what she had let him do to her. Little shivers were running though her belly, tiny cramping sensations around her anus sending tremors up her spine. She suddenly climaxed violently, floundering, gasping and shuddering. She was mortified.

Tom pulled slowly out of her dripping pussy and hauled her to her feet. Nicki had not felt him come. Had she turned him off with her display? He pulled her over to the big wall mirror and turned her so she could see her buttocks above her long, silk sheathed legs, the round black stand of the butt plug protruding just proud of her cheeks. 

"That will need to stay in for a while. Put your dress on. We're going shopping."

Nicki was aghast. 

"But it might..."

Going out with no knickers was bad enough, but with a plug up ones anus as well... She was terrified that it would come out, that her body would expel it. With nothing to keep it in, it would fall on the floor! People would see. Just the thought of it made her flush deeply.

"Put your dress on. You may wear the choker if you choose, rather than the collar as we are going out."

She pulled on her dress, in a daze. She reached up to her neck, feeling the collar there. She didn't want to take it off. It was a symbol of their relationship. She would keep it on. 

Walking in heels with a plug up one's anus was new experience. Again, she thought ruefully, it would do wonders for her deportment. Tom took her hand and led her to his car, a vintage Jaguar with leather seats. He opened the passenger door for her, and Nicky sat down, very gingerly, wincing at the pressure exerted on the base of the plug as she sat, pushing it further into her, very conscious of her distended rear passage and the strange, exotic ache. She pulled her skirt out so that her naked buttocks were resting on the leather. She felt vulnerable. She felt excited.

Tom got in on the driver's side and closed the door. He started the car and they moved forward.

"Pull your skirt up."

Nicki didn't think she had heard him correctly. They were driving down a busy road. Pedestrians on the pavement. People might look in through the car window. She gaped.

"Pull your skirt up. Now."

She felt her hands go down to the hem. Nicki pulled it up, under the seatbelt, hot with shame. 

"Open your legs. Wider."

She felt like she was in one of those terrible nightmares where you were paralysed with fear, unable to move. Tom reached down, grasped her knees, and roughly pulled her legs apart. They continued, onto the high street, Tom's hand between her thighs, his fingers inside her. They stopped at the traffic lights by the station. People were crossing the street, they could see Nicki and Tom in the car. If they were to look in the window, surely they would see what his hands were doing to her naked sex? She cringed with embarrassment, trying to shrink down into the seat, trying to make herself invisible. At the same time, she was getting more and more flustered by her desire, which seemed to be growing by the moment. Her anus ached, full to bursting, small cramping pains travelling up her backbone. She moaned, her cheeks scarlet, hot tears threatening to escape from the corners of her eyes. A truck pulled up beside them. The driver was higher up -- all he had to do was to look down to see what was going on. She wouldn't look up in case she met his eyes. She was horrified. She quivered and groaned.

"You will not come now. You will wait until we get home."

Until he said that, Nicki hadn't even thought about coming. But once he had said it, the ache in her naked pussy seemed to grow and grow. The lights changed, they started to move off again, Tom's fingers probing her vagina, massaging Nicki's sensitive clitoris. Pressure built inside her, she couldn't stand it any more. With a whimpering grunt, she came hard against his fingers, her breath expelled from her body in shuddering pants, her body collapsing against the car seat, nipples as stiff as bullets, her head lolling against his shoulder.

Tom said nothing. He looked at her, and she knew he knew. Oh Lord! What was he going to do to her?

They pulled into the supermarket car park, the early evening winter darkness was eerily illuminated by the orange glow of the sodium lights dotted around the tarmac. The supermarket was in the process of closing -- doors still open, but staff hurrying to pack up boxes of fresh produce. They had about ten minutes before the store would close for the night. Tom got out of the car, opened Nicki's door and she had to hastily pull her skirt down, and then totter on her high heels into the brightly lit emporium. Tom walked swiftly down the aisles to the wine section and started to examine the bottles of champagne. The air from the coolers seemed to target Nicki's skirt, her anus still complaining at the perverse distortion, her snatch throbbing from the attention Tom had given it in the car. She felt dazed. Drunk on sensation.

They were alone in the aisle, apart from a young man of who was stacking boxes of beer further down the aisle. He looked up at Nicki and Tom, smiled and looked away. Tom had a bottle of champagne in his hand, he was reading the label. Without looking at her he said:

"Lift your skirt."

Nicki could hardly believe her ears. Here, in the supermarket? What about the man in the aisle? Surely he couldn't mean for her to expose herself in public?

"There's someone there...", she began. Tom cut her off abruptly. He spoke flatly, no emotion.

"Lift your skirt now. You've earned a punishment for disobeying my orders in the car. You are now being punished for that, and when we got home you will get further punishment for disobeying my orders. Now, lift your skirt."

Nicki looked at the man. He was about ten feet away from them, but perhaps he had overheard the conversation because he was staring at her, open-mouthed. She looked back at Tom in desperation. Then slowly, her whole body crimson with embarrassment she lifted her skirt. The man's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Tears of humiliation started to pour down Nicki's cheeks. He took a step forward so he could get a better view of Nicki's bald cunt.

"Turn around. Show him your arse."

Nicki turned, giving the man a view of the butt plug protruding slightly from her anal passage. Her abject humiliation could not have been greater. Her body started it's traitorous betrayal, wetness permeating her slit, little tremors of desire running up her tummy. For long moments she stood there, the boy gawping at her, his erection clearly visible through his trousers, Tom ignoring her, looking at the bottle. Then he turned and walked away from her. 

"Put you skirt down. We're going."

Nicki hastened to obey, tottering behind him on her heels, not daring to look back at the man in the aisle. Why was her body betraying her like this? She was getting wetter and wetter. She wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara, gazing at the floor in misery. Tom paid for the champagne and walked back to the car. He opened the door for Nicki and she winced as she sat down on the plug, her anus aching. They drove back to the flat, her skirt again pulled up, her legs apart, his hand between her thighs, Nicki wondering if she had perhaps jumped into some quantum parallel universe, where gross excitation at perverse degradation was the norm and probity had disappeared out of the window. She was so very afraid and excited by her impending punishment, that she was oblivious to the possibility that people might look through the car window and see what Tom's clever fingers were doing to her gradually reddening pussy lips.

They got back to the flat, Nicki standing in the tiny living room, very aroused, nervously shifting her weight from leg to leg, her anus no longer aching so terribly, but still feeling stuffed like a Christmas turkey. She looked at Tom.

"Sir, I know I've let you down. I'm truly sorry. Please forgive me, don't punish me. I know I deserve to be punished, but please..."

"You will receive six strokes with the tawse. You will accept that you need to be punished, you will ask me to punish you and you will ask properly."

Six strokes! Why on earth had she given Tom the implement? She had resolved to hide it and now... Nicki realised that she was going to be punished, more severely than she had ever been punished before. For a moment she was angry. How dare Tom treat her like this? Then she realised that she had given him every right to use her cruelly. She also realised that she was getting hideously aroused at the prospect. She knew it was going to hurt. She took off her dress, folded it onto the settee, put her hands behind her head, and stood naked in front of her master.

"Please punish me sir. I deserve to be punished. I want you to punish me. Please sir, beat me with the tawse."



Nicki Submits Ch. 06



It seemed to Nicki that her universe had disintegrated; all that was good, clean and decent appeared to have descended into a paradoxical alternate reality -- a reality, moreover, where social norms and common conventions had been twisted into a perversion of themselves. Perversion was, Nicki thought, the right word for it. The wiring in her head had somehow become re-routed, the neurons and nerves scrambled and misconnecting -- so that things she had previously thought gross, unbearable and untenable had become somehow exciting -- inflaming her desire beyond all reasonable measure. The greater her pain and humiliation, the greater her obscene, aching arousal. She was certainly becoming much more intimately acquainted with her scrubbed wooden kitchen table than she had ever thought possible.

Nicki gasped and hissed as the first stroke of the tawse descended onto her naked buttocks, her long silk-stockinged legs quivering. Pain flowered, flamed and spread over both her cheeks. The nub of her swollen clitoris had pressed against the rough grain of the wooden kitchen table, over which she had been bent. Tom had removed the butt plug -- the relief she felt as the rude intrusion was pulled out of her throbbing anal passage, was soon surmounted by the agony she felt from the first sharp crack of the tawse. She moved her hands away from the back of her head automatically as she moaned and cried, trying vainly to protect her burning arse. Tom simply pinioned her arms behind her back, grasping her slender wrists with his strong left hand. His right hand was clutching the tawse, with which he was now remorselessly and slowly thrashing her bare behind. As each stroke landed, Nikki cried out, sobbing and begging for mercy, tears running down her face and smearing her mascara into a small, dark puddle under her cheeks.

She squirmed and moved her buttocks, vainly trying to escape the force of the blows that were building up a criss-cross collection of red welts that flared across her tortured flesh. As she squirmed, the pressure of her clit against the wood seemed to increase - sending tremulous explosions of desire up into her stomach and beyond. Through the pain and humiliation she had the dawning realisation that she was very close to orgasm. The added humiliation of accepting that her desire arose from her submission, increased the build-up of her sexual tension, the damn threatening to break and overwhelm her defences.

"Please sir," she groaned and panted through her streaming tears, "I'm going to come. I need to come!"

Now that she had to beg for her release rather than merely allowing it to devastate her was another mortification that was added to the lengthening list of indignities she had suffered: being shaved and spanked, refused the allowance of underwear, then depilated and abused by Sonia, internally cleansed with an enema, collared, her anus stretched in the rudest possible way, fingered, publically exposed and now being beaten with a tawse that she herself had purchased. It had all happened so quickly. Nicki feared that she was losing control, yet the very idea of losing that control, submitting herself entirely to Tom's dominance, was somehow feeding the furnace of her basest desires. Boy, was it hot! She was close to exploding.

"Please sir, may I come?"

"You have had 4 strokes of the tawse," Tom replied. "You have another two coming. You may climax on the final stroke."

He took his time with the final two blows, seemingly selecting areas of her raw buttocks that had escaped his previous ministrations. The second-to-last lash landed on the top of her bottom, just below the small of her back. The last slapping blow, just above the fleshy bit of her thighs, was harder than all the rest. Nicki yelped in anguish, but then had one of the most towering and astounding orgasms that she had ever experienced -- her whole body aflame with overpowering sensation. She staggered to her feet, tottering on the heels of her stilettos. Tom grasped the back of her neck and pushed her back onto the table.

"I didn't tell you to get up. Stay there."

He parted her legs, reached over for the second biggest butt plug, and without any ceremony or preparation, forced it deeply and rapidly into Nicki's anus. Taken totally by surprise, she squealed as his hand touched the raw welts on her buttocks as he jammed the plug in, and then groaned and sobbed as her sphincter at first battled and then surrendered to this new and bigger indecorous intrusion.

"Ow! Ow!! Oh please, take it out! It's too big!"

Tom simply ignored her. The familiar cramping pains ran up from her abused passage to her tummy. She felt as if she were about to burst open. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Her nose was running. She was a mess.

Tom pulled her to her feet. She could barely stand, overcome and exhausted by the ferocity of her body's tempestuous response to the abuse she had suffered. He led her over to the mirror, turning her body so she could see the marks left by her punishment. The strap of the tawse was split into two stiff leather thongs, so each stroke of the implement had left not one, but two raised, purple welts on her white flesh. A dozen bruised lines of pain hatching her tender skin, forming an undignified tartan that would take a while to fade. The base of the butt plug flared just proud of her nether cheeks seeming to form a nexus, a round, black intersection at which the brocaded lines of her punishment met. She examined her face. Her cheeks were red. Mascara stained tears -- still streaming from her swollen eyes -- had tracked black lines down her cheeks. She tried to catch her breath, to stop her sobbing. She needed to blow her nose.

"Pick up your dress. Go into the bathroom and sort yourself out. We'll talk when you come back."

Tom sank down onto the settee. Nicki winced as she bent down to pick up her dress, her tormented flesh protesting at the stretching action. The butt plug felt so enormous inside her back passage -- although the cramps were now, thankfully, slowly losing their intensity. She walked gingerly into the bathroom. After a few moments, she managed to stop sobbing. She washed her face with cold water to reduce her swollen eyes, blew her nose and then re-applied lipstick and mascara. She brushed her hair and managed to put on her dress, grateful for once that she would not be wearing panties which might rub against her still burning flesh. A glance in the mirror showed her reflection looking pretty near to normal. What was normal anymore? As she turned to go back into the living room, she had a moment of blind panic. What had she become?

Tom looked up as she entered the room. His expression was maddeningly neutral. He patted the space on the settee next to him.

"Sit down, Nicki."

She sat, gingerly, wincing as pain flared across her bruised buttocks when they came into contact with the fabric of the sofa. A small groan escaped her lips. For a moment, there was silence. Then her thoughts came tumbling out of her mouth.

"I'm not sure what is happening to me. I'm afraid", Nicki said. "I don't know what to do. I seem to have become another person."

Tom surprised her. He enfolded her with his arms and pulled her head down onto his chest, stroking her hair. She suddenly felt secure, safe, protected.

"You will always be at war with yourself until you accept who you are", said Tom. "Think, Nicki. Why did you become an actor? Why do you stand up in front of people and perform? Is it not because the possibility of failure, of humiliation is alway there? And that excites you. I know this excites you. I have seen this in you from the first day we met. Is it so surprising that you can experience humiliation through physical abuse? You are who you have always been. Exciting, beautiful. Distracting."

Nicki was stunned into silence, firstly because Tom had praised her for the very first time, and secondly, because Tom and her seemed to be having a discussion about their relationship. He had called her beautiful. Exciting! She thought about what he had said. It seemed to make sense in a weird kind of way. Had she been unconsciously searching for humiliation and abuse all this time? Surely not!

"I don't know, it just doesn't seem normal." She shrugged, snuggling into his broad chest, wanting to prolong this moment of intimacy.

"Normal!", Tom's deep laugh filled the room. "Normal! Why would you want to be normal? What great actor is ever 'normal'? Forget about being normal. Be yourself. Be true to yourself. Embrace your desires."

"But if I'm getting pleasure from pain there must be something seriously wrong with me."

"You are adding up two and two and getting five," Tom replied. "You are punished. The punishment is painful. You come like a hurricane. You think that your pleasure arises from the pain, but you are wrong. Your pleasure, young lady, arises from your submission. You find the things I do to you humiliating, painful and degrading. Yet you allow me to do these things, and you even beg me to do them. It is that which gives you pleasure."

Lord! He was right. Nicki thought back -- it was her humiliation when he had first shaved her and fingered her tight anus that had prompted her first climax with him. She found humiliation and submission exciting.

"What about you? Do you get pleasure from hurting me?" Nicki needed to know.

"You give me more pleasure than you can possibly imagine," Tom replied. "Again, however, it is not the infliction of pain per se that arouses me, but the willing acceptance of it. I see the battle writ on your body -- your blushes as humiliation of the abuse inflames your desire. That, in turn, inflames mine." He paused. "I think I might be falling in love with you."

This last -- so matter of fact -- that Nicki thought she might have misheard or misunderstood. A wave of pure pleasure enfolded her. Love! Tom!

"When you came out of the bedroom wearing my collar," Tom continued, "I felt a bond and a longing so strong that I could scarcely breathe. As you know, I don't show my feelings -- and that is not going to change. But you do things to me. Powerful things. I need you, and I hope that you need me."

He pulled her face toward him and kissed her. Nicki was too happy to speak. She just beamed. Tom pulled her skirt up, pushed her legs wide apart, and examined her bald nether lips, pink and inflamed from the remorseless attention he had paid. He slipped a finger inside her. Nicki sighed and groaned. Then he pulled her vaginal lips apart to reveal her glistening, pink hole.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, his strong fingers grasping and stretching each rosy lip, "I think I would like to see you pierced and ringed down here. Then you will wear my tag. Come on, we're going to drink the champagne, eat some food, and then we're off to the pub to meet some friends."