2 comments/ 9495 views/ 2 favorites The Reluctant Dom By: Witchazel They say that life is what happens while you make other plans. The thing is, Jimmy Porter hadn't really made any real plans. He was an average guy and he lived an average life. Like many boys, he did odd jobs for extra money while he was in school, but unlike most of the rest, he was extremely good at it. He started out mowing lawns, moved into landscaping slowly as he grew, and when it came time for college, he decided to take a year off and earn some money towards the cost. The thing is, Jimmy got so much work, he soon had to hire his out-of-work dad to help him. By the time Jimmy was twenty six, they'd added two more employees. So much for college. Ah well, he didn't mind, he hadn't really wanted to go anyway. He enjoyed his job, and all the women he met while working. He wasn't into playing with another man's wife, but he sure wasn't above looking and flirting. Jimmy liked his women a bit older than himself too, he always had. His favorite, at the time this story began, was Mrs. Ellen Sarko. This woman was about ten years older than Jimmy, and married to a sickly man in his sixties. Mr. Sarko may have been frail, but Ellen was a goddess, tall slim, tight waist, sweetly curving hips, big but not massive breasts, lots of wavy brown hair, crystal blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the world like a morning sun. She smiled a lot, especially when Jimmy was around. Jimmy was anticipating that smile one morning, as he pulled into their driveway and turned off the truck. Stepping down to the ground, he heard the crack of a whip striking flesh, and heard Ellen's yelp of pain. He had been told never to enter their garage, but at the second crack of the whip he burst through the side door like a hurricane. A glance showed him Mr. Sarko, in his wheelchair, holding a whip. Ellen was naked, her hands bound together, and hanging from the ceiling, her feet barely touching the floor. "What the hell are you doing, you crazy old bastard?" Jimmy snarled as he snatched the whip from the man's hand and shook an iron fist under his nose. "I ought to bust you up good, you..." He got no further as Ellen was suddenly between them, and she was angry. "Stop it, don't you dare hurt him," she hissed as she put her hands against Jimmy's chest and thrust him back. "Me hurt him? Cripes woman, he was.... Hey, how did you get out of those ropes?" "Idiot, did you really think a man in a wheelchair could have tied me to the ceiling? I did it myself, and it was easy to get out of." Poor Jimmy, he had gone from the hero to the fool in a heartbeat. He was confused, and the sight of this magnificent woman, stark naked, eyes ablaze with protective fury, had made his pecker rock hard. "I don't understand. What..." "Ellen, it's alright, bring Jimmy a seat. We owe him an explanation." Mr. Sarko's voice was firm, but gentle. She turned instantly and brought Jimmy a folding chair, then she sat on the cold concrete floor and laid her cheek on Mr. Sarko's knee. She kept her body between Jimmy and her husband, watching Jimmy carefully. "Sit down, Jimmy," Mr. Sarko smiled as he stroked her hair affectionately. "I won't let her bite you." "You promise?" "I swear it," he chuckled. "Tell me, Jimmy, what do you know of BDSM?" "Nothing at all," replied Jimmy, "really." "Well, for us it is about dominance and control. Before I became ill, I had a deep need to dominate and control a woman completely. Not to do great harm, mind you, but to help her discover her limits, her natural desires, and to grow as a person." "Really?" The doubt was clear in Jimmy's voice. It was also clear he did not want to hear or believe this. Ellen reached out to gently touch his knee. "Jimmy, please listen without judging. Just keep an open mind and listen, please?" Her anger was gone now, and her eyes were pleading with him, begging him to understand. Damn he wish she would put on a robe so he could concentrate. Her nipples were rock hard and they were messing with his mind. "Look, as long as everything is Ok here, I don't need..." "Yes you do," interrupted Mr. Sarko, "and we need you to listen. Jimmy, that need was a driving force in my life, just as the need to be dominated and controlled is a driving force in Ellen." "Ah-huh..." "Jimmy, it is true," Ellen put in softly. "My poor Eric suffers so, trying to help me these days. I try to tell him he doesn't have to, that I can live without it, but he won't listen." "My darling girl," smiled Mr. Sarko as he gently stroked her hair, "I swore to meet your needs for you, and as long as I am alive I mean to do just that. Jimmy, this is no longer about me and my needs, for I am well past the ability to have sex. It is about Ellen and her needs." "So, you're telling me you get off on being tied up and whipped?" "Yes, that is exactly what we are saying, but there is more to it, Jimmy. Eric is the master, I am the slave. He can do whatever he likes with me. I do like a certain amount of pain to stimulate me, but I enjoy being totally controlled as well. I love to be bound, helpless, and taken by my man." "It sure didn't sound like that when..." "I know, I know, but it is part of the fun." "Part of the fun?" "Yes Jimmy, part of the fun. I like to yelp, squirm, whimper, and beg him to stop, but that is all part of the game. If I was truly hurt, I would use my safe word." "Safe word, what the hell is a safe word?" "It's a magic word that tells Master that I am in trouble. He will instantly stop and take care of me." "Jimmy, I can see you are still not completely convinced," smiled Mr. Sarko. "I think a hands on demonstration is in order." "Eric, no..." "Quiet woman, I was speaking to Jimmy," said Mr. Sarko sternly. Ellen instantly hung her head and fell silent. "Jimmy, are you willing to help me, us, here. I will tell you what to do and guide you through this. You will then have a far better understanding of what this is all about." "I don't know..." "You find Ellen attractive, don't you? That bulge in your pants says you do." "Well, yes," blushed Jimmy. "Then what's the problem?" "It is just that I don't think I can hit a woman, especially her." "That's very sweet, Jimmy, but I like it." "That whip, it could really do some damage. I..." "Oh, you're not ready to use the whip yet," laughed Mr. Sarko. "You have a lot to learn first. So, here's the deal. I will teach you, and you will help my poor Ellen stay sane, agreed?" "Well, Ok, I guess." Jimmy still wasn't sure what he was getting himself into, but the sight of her naked form was leading him astray. "What do I have to do?" "First, bring that rope, I will show you how to tie her hands. Then you can put it through that ring on the ceiling and raise her up, not enough to hurt her, but enough to keep her on her toes." "Ok, now what?" asked Jimmy as he secured the rope to the wall. Ellen's delicious body was dancing before him, her arms pulled above her head, and a smiled of anticipation on her lips. "Take this, it is called a flogger. Start with light strokes up and down her body to get her used to the feel of it. Watch out for the wrap around, you don't want to hit her face. Remember, if she says RED, stop instantly and get her down." "Got it," replied Jimmy as he gave her a few very gentle swats with the flogger. "Oh for pity sake, is that the best you've got?" Ellen taunted. "Even my grandmother could do better than that." Blushing deeply, he gave her a harder swat across her butt. She laughed at him and he forgot himself. He gave her a strong slap across the butt with his bare hand, bring a yelp of surprise out of her. Both her butt and his hand stung from that, but he didn't notice. Her deliciously squirming body had him mesmerized. It was her giggle that brought him back. Jimmy blushed again as he tore his eyes away and stuck his hand into his jeans to adjust the painful hard-on he had. "Ohhh my goodness," purred Ellen, "somebody liked smacking my ass." Jimmy just blushed deeper. "She's being a very bad girl, Jimmy," chuckled Mr. Sarko. "Here, take this paddle and give her a spanking." Jimmy took the paddle and gave her a gentle swat with it. She giggled and taunted him again. He slapped her ass harder and she yelped then squirmed and giggled. Once more the paddle connected, each time just a tiny bit harder. Before each stroke Jimmy looked to Mr. Sarko who gave him the nod. A few moments later her butt was as red as an exit sign, and Ellen was starting to moan with pleasure. Jimmy, at Mr. Sarko's direction, returned to the flogger once again, this time using a bit more force. She yelped, giggled and moaned as he continued. It had been far too long since her husband had been able to do this properly for her. "Check her hands, Jimmy," directed Mr. Sarko. "Make sure she has good circulation." "They're a little cold," he replied as he reached up to feel her bound hands. "Take her down and bring her over here, Jimmy." The wheelchair was now beside a strange looking bench. Jimmy untied the rope and lowered Ellen down. Only then did he look at her face. She was flushed, and her eyes were ablaze with lust. She licked her full lips and dropped her gaze to his crotch and now rather obvious hard-on. "Mmm, yummie," she purred. Once again he blushed to his roots as he led her to the bench. Following Mr. Sarko's instructions, Jimmy put her across the bench and fastened her wrists and ankles with the restraints attached to the bench. Ellen was now bent helplessly over the bench, her ass high in the air, her legs held well apart, and her shaved pussy fully exposed. Jimmy was now completely lost in a mad world. "Alright Jimmy, slap her ass and ask her what she wants." Jimmy gave her a sound smack on the butt. Ellen gave a little yelp then, in a deep sexy purr, she spoke. "I want you to fuck me, Jimmy. I want you to take me and pound into me until you explode. I want to suck your cock, I want you in my ass, I want you now." Jimmy was a bit taken aback by the animal lust in her voice, but Mr. Sarko just chuckled. "She's being far too demanding, Jimmy, make her beg for it. Check her pussy to see if she is even wet, then make her beg for it." With shaking hand, Jimmy reached out and felt her puss. It was dripping wet and he easily slipped a finger inside, bring a low moan of pleasure from Ellen. That was followed by a groan of protest as he removed it. Jimmy brought the finger to his lips and first sniffed then tasted her nectar. He was completely lost. "Dear god, Jimmy, you're in worse shape than she is," sighed Mr. Sarko. "You are going to have to develop some self control. Ah well, we can work on that later. Strip off your clothes and take what you need." Jimmy just looked dumbfounded. "It's alright Jimmy, she needs this, and so do you. Go on." Jimmy's decision was made for him when Ellen started to beg him to fuck her. "Please Sir, please fuck me. I need your cock in me. Please come around here so I can suck you." She kept begging, but Jimmy didn't hear her, he was too busy ripping off his clothes. At this point he didn't care if the devil got his soul forever, he just had to have her. Ellen gasped in surprise and delight as he suddenly stepped to her and entered her from behind in one swift stroke. Jimmy wasn't an overly large boy, but he had a good average sized stiffie, and Ellen was far tighter than he'd expected. She groaned with pleasure and tried to thrust her hips back to meet him. "Oh gods, Master, yes, fuck me, fuck me hard, take what you want, use me..." She continued to talk dirty to him, but he could no longer hear her. He stroked in and out of her at increasing speed until he was on the edge. Panting like a freight train, he forced himself to stop for a moment, gently running his hands up and down her thighs. Being very ticklish, Ellen squealed and squirmed, to Jimmy's great delight. She begged him to stop, but he held her fast and allowed her delightful wriggling to push him over the edge. With a loud groan, Jimmy allowed his world to explode, and as his knees turned to Jello, he slid out of her and sank to the floor, breathing deeply. Ellen was a long way from finished though, and her whimpering protests brought him around. He walked around to her head and presented himself. "You'll have to make me hard again," he said softly as he gently cradled her head in his hands. "Yes Master," she panted, "come closer, let me suck you, please come closer." He moved a bit closer and she practically inhaled him. Her agile lips and tongue soon had him ready for more, but she didn't want to stop sucking him. Finally he made her stop and went behind her once again. This time he was able to last longer, and he brought her to several orgasms before he exploded once again. As Jimmy gently stroked her bottom, Mr. Sarko passed him a large vibrator. "She's been a very good girl for you, Jimmy. Give her a reward now." Using the vibrator on her clit, Jimmy was able to bring her to another earth shattering orgasm. Ellen screamed as the waves of ecstasy ripped through her body, and slowly she melted onto the bench. "Quickly now, Jimmy," said Mr. Sarko as he passed Jimmy a thick terry cloth robe, "unhook her and wrap her in this." Jimmy did as he was told, and Ellen first snuggled into the robe, then melted into his arms. "Carry her over here to this day bed, and lie down with her in your arms. Hold her gently and tell her what a good girl she is. This is called after-care Jimmy, and it is of utmost importance." Mr. Sarko disappeared while Jimmy laid her on the day bed and lay beside her. He folded her gently into his arms and cuddled her close. "Did I please you, Jimmy?" she asked softly as she snuggled into his arms. "Beyond my wildest dreams," he replied as he softly kissed her forehead then hugged her close. "You are indeed a very good girl, but now I'm ruined forever." "Jimmy?" "How can any other woman ever compare to you?" "Flatterer," she giggled as she nuzzled his cheek. "I can't thank you enough for this, it has been nearly two years." "You can call on me anytime," he chuckled. "I'll just bet," she giggled as she lightly poked him in the ribs, then snuggled even closer. They lay together for a while longer, then she gave him a tight hug and released him. With a sigh of contentment, she sat up and tousled her hair. "Gods, Jimmy, I feel alive again." At this point Mr. Sarko returned with a tray of tea. "Let me, Master," declared Ellen as she took the tea tray and began to set up a small table. She poured a cup for each of them, then Mr. Sarko spoke again. "Well Jimmy, did you enjoy your first lesson?" Jimmy just blushed and grinned. "Jimmy, my health is failing fast, and I need to know my beloved Ellen will be cared for after I'm gone." "Eric," "No Ellen, we have discussed this and you know my mind on this." "Eric, Jimmy won't want an old woman like me..." "Actually, I'll be the judge of that," put in Jimmy. "I'll admit I'm feeling a bit strange about all this today, but I will also admit I have wanted you for some time, and now more than ever. Sir, if you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting, then I'm certainly thrilled, but the decision isn't mine or yours to make." "Agreed. Ellen my love, this young buck truly does want you, and I believe he will be good to you. I also know there are many others who would take advantage. I trust this, Ellen." With tears in her eyes, Ellen gripped his hand tightly. "Eric..." She stopped and drew a deep breath, then began again. "I have always trusted your decisions on my behalf, Master. If this is your wish, and Master Jimmy truly wants me, I will comply." "I do want you, woman," sighed Jimmy, "but only if you want me too." "Of course I want you, silly man. I've been throwing myself at you for months, but I'm not a free woman." "You will be soon," said Mr. Sarko softly. "Oh, Eric..." "No girl, I am at peace with all of this now. Jimmy, there is a lot more I have to teach you, and I have little time in which to do it. I need you to move into the guest room. We can hold classes in the evenings." And so it was. Eric Sarko taught Jimmy the ways of a dominant, and so ensured the woman he loved would be safe after his death. Jimmy learned all that he could, although he was always a bit reluctant to cause her pain. Mr. Sarko passed away in his sleep one night, and Jimmy was there for Ellen to lean on. They came to love each other deeply, and married just a year after Ellen became a widow. They've been together for many years now, and Ellen still has to taunt him to get a proper spanking. The Reluctant Domestic Author's note: I'd like to dedicate this story to my lovely and talented muse. This will be the first of a two or possibly three-part series. Comments of any kind are welcome and appreciated – my writing is still very much in the 'experimental' stage. **** Kay stepped through the door into the bungalow and inhaled deeply, breathing the now-familiar scent of the place. His place. It was his house, and the one night per week that she was inside it, she was his also. She quickly removed her shoes, beige slacks and conservative blue blouse, and then her nondescript white bra and cotton panties. Shedding the trappings of her life as a mother, wife and elementary school teacher. She hung them in the front closet and withdrew her apron, the only clothing he allowed her. It was skimpy and frilly and did nothing to hide her full curves or contain her heavy breasts, but he hadn't asked her opinion on the matter. He said to wear it, and so she wore it. As long as he had those pictures, as long as he held the means to destroy her personal and professional life, she could only obey. He'd snapped the awful pics more than two years ago and had threatened to expose her. On that evening he'd bent her over his kitchen table and entered her from behind, the first of many times she'd been forced to service his lust. She knew she didn't have time to dawdle - he'd be home in ninety minutes and there were chores to do, and dire consequences if he found them incomplete. And this week, especially, she wanted to keep those consequences to a minimum. She padded barefoot into the kitchen and found dirty dishes piled on every horizontal surface. She sighed, resigned but not surprised. The same sight had greeted her every Wednesday for two years. Why should he waste time doing dishes, or laundry, or cleaning the bathroom when he had an obedient slave at his disposal? A part of her wondered how he could stand to live in a house with so many dirty dishes, but of course it wasn't her place to speculate. With an efficiency honed through gruelling hours of practice, Kay began the arduous task of soaping, rinsing, drying and shelving every plate, cup and utensil. She worked quickly, keeping one eye on the time while paying attention to her work; he expected both speed and flawless performance. Standing at the sink made her back ache and her feet sore, but she didn't have time to alleviate her discomfort. She'd likely finish too late even as it was. Again. When the final fork was in its proper place at last, she scurried to the bedroom, feeling her tits bounce and swing unrestrained, a reminder of her near-nudity and of her lowly status. She tried to ignore the warm feeling inside her, the arousal lying just below the surface. There was work to be done. The bedroom was strewn with discarded clothes. The only place devoid of dirty laundry was the hamper - it was as empty as when she'd placed it there the previous week. She knew the mess was intentional and meant to send a message: attending to his laundry was her job, not his. She raced around the room, gathering the laundry from the floor, even getting down on her knees to collect socks that had somehow found their way under the bed. When the hamper was overflowing with clothes she lugged the whole thing down a flight of stairs to the laundry room in the basement, then quickly separated whites from colours and started a load of the former. The bathroom was next, and a quick glance at the time lent urgency to the task. He'd be home in fewer than 20 minutes! She quickly retrieved the rags and detergents from under the sink and started with the toilet. He'd made his instructions clear right from the start: he wanted the bathroom so clean that she would happily touch her tongue to any surface he indicated. Over the past two years, she'd found those words a source of great...motivation...when her energy began to flag. She hadn't yet started on the bathtub when she heard his car in the driveway. Cursing silently, she quickly gathered the detergents and returned them to their place under the sink, then raced down the stairs to add the rags to the coloured pile of laundry. She lowered herself to her knees next to the front door just as he turned the doorknob. He stepped into the hallway, followed by his young fiancee. It was the first time she'd met the woman he would marry, but he'd told Kay that this would be the week and warned her to be on her very best behaviour...or else. They looked like a well-matched young couple; he was tall and lean and casual in jeans and a red t-shirt and she petite and fine-featured in yoga pants and and a long shirt. "Greetings Sir...and Ma'am. May I fetch you both a drink?" She spoke as she'd been trained, with a happy smile and an eager tone, eyes downcast. She couldn't keep the deep blush from her cheeks as she spoke the words. Submitting to him alone was humiliating, but for his fiancee to witness the extent of her debasement was so much worse. Even without looking Kay could feel the younger woman's curious gaze. "Beer for me, Perrier for Hannah," he said, "We'll be on the couch." "Yes Sir. Right away." she said, then rose and hurried to the kitchen to fill the order. With two full glasses on a plastic tray she entered the living room, bending at the waist to allow first her owner and then his fiancee to take their drinks. She quickly returned the tray to the kitchen, then hurried to the washroom to fill a plastic basin with hot water and grab a wash cloth and a towel. Wait...two wash cloths today; his fiancee might want 'foot service' as well. She felt a brief twinge of pride at having anticipated his wishes and this in turn heightened her shame. What had she become in just two short years? She returned the the living room, careful not to slosh any water onto the floor, then knelt at his feet in front of the couch. The laminate floor wasn't comfortable but it was a hardship she'd learned to endure. Really, it was the least of her worries. Her owner and Hannah were enjoying idle conversation, catching up on the day's activities. With a pang of loneliness, Kay remembered the days when she and her husband would chat like that, back before the kids came and a gradual apathy had settled into her marriage. She shook her head to clear it; she was in her owner's house now and her she couldn't allow her thoughts to drift. She gently removed his white socks and put them aside, then soaked the washcloth and began bathing his feet in hot water. She took her time, doing a thorough job and ensuring that her owner enjoyed the relaxing heat and friction of the cloth. After a few minutes of washing, she tenderly dried his feet, then took his right foot in both hands and began squeezing and rubbing the sole, focused on delivering the perfect massage. "You've got her well-trained, if that's the right word." she heard Hannah remark. The comment evoked another mix of pride and shame. Kay didn't reply or look up; she wasn't being addressed directly so she continued to immerse herself in her service. "She's a quick learner." he agreed. The compliment caused a bloom of warmth inside her and she had to stifle a shy smile. The first few weeks of servitude had been difficult - very difficult - but with those pictures in his possession, she had no choice but to endure and to learn. "Thank you Sir. I'm glad you're pleased." Kay gave the required response to the compliment. "Where are you at in your tally?" he asked. "Fifty-six, Sir. But..." she ended abruptly, remembering too late to answer only the question asked and no more. "But?" "I didn't finish the bathtub today, Sir." "Same as last week." "Yes." "That's disappointing. Add ten to your tally." he said. "Yes Sir. My tally is now sixty-six." The thought of having disappointed him stung her, and she was struck again by how much of herself she had invested in a relationship that had been forced upon her. "Your tally is high this week. Why is that, Kay?" She flushed red as she continued to massage his feet. "My husband has been unusually eager this week, Sir." "How so?" "He's taken to spooning me and touching my breasts as he drifts off." "How often does he do this?" "Every night this week, Sir." Laying bare her marital activities in front of her owner and his fiancee deepened her shame. "You mean her own husband isn't allowed to touch her?" Hannah asked. Kay could hear the note of disbelief in her voice. "Answer, Kay." he commanded. Kay raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the younger woman. She had pretty green eyes and looked at Kay as though trying to figure out what the game was. "I've been instructed to consent to and encourage any sexual activity my husband wishes to enjoy. But it does increase my tally." "What do you mean?" Hannah asked. Kay realized that her owner hadn't explained everything to his fiancee, likely because he knew it would humiliate Kay to do it. "If my husband touches my breasts, that adds three to the tally for that day. My pussy adds five. Blow jobs add ten, intercourse adds fifteen. If I...cum...it adds twenty." "I get a text message every day with the updated tally." he added, "Any sexual activity this week, Kay?" "I gave two blow jobs." Her blush was so deep that she started to perspire. "How do you know she's telling the truth?" Hannah asked her fiance. He chuckled. "She's a terrible liar. Her body language gives it away. In poker they call it a 'tell', and hers is a dead giveaway. And what's the penalty for a lie, Kay?" "A lie adds one hundred to the tally." "And how often has that happened?" he prompted "Just once, Sir." she shuddered at the memory. Never again! "So what is this tally for?" Hannah asked. He looked at Kay expectantly, so she answered. "My tally is the number of strokes I'm to receive each week. The strokes can be with my owner's hand or a wooden spoon, and delivered to any part of my body he desires." After two years of experiencing it first-hand, the explanation came easily. "So you're getting sixty-six strokes today? Sort of like a spanking?" Hannah asked. "Yes Ma'am." And that assumed there were no further mess-ups... "Before we start, would you like Kay to do your feet, dear? She's really skilled." her owner asked his fiancee. "No, thanks. I'll just watch for now. It's going to take some time to get used to this." Hannah said in an uncertain voice. "Suit yourself." he said to Hannah, then to Kay he said "Time to attend to your strokes." "Yes Sir." she said, rising and hurrying to the kitchen. She undid the apron and hung it over the back of a chair, then retrieved the long-handled wooden spoon from its drawer. Touching the utensil brought a surge of dread...and arousal. There was no denying the wetness between her legs. Naked and with a mix of emotions she walked into the living room and presented her owner with the spoon. "Tits first, I think." her owner decided. Kay positioned herself in front of him with her hands behind her back and her large breasts lewdly presented. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steel herself against the pain which was to come. Above all else, she knew to maintain her position; cringing and twisting away from the blows was not permitted. He slowly stroked the flat of the spoon over her sensitive breasts, causing an involuntary shiver to run through her. Her nipples hardened as the smooth, cool surface caressed them. He raised the spoon, then brought it down sharply on the top of her left breast with a loud SMACK. She gasped at the noise and the stinging from her flesh, but didn't move or open her eyes. "One." she counted. She didn't have to be told; two years of weekly sessions had made the response ingrained. SMACK. Her owner liked to move the blows around; to raise red splotches all over her ample tit. She could only stand still and accept whatever he chose for her. Those pictures... "Two." SMACK. "Three." By the tenth stroke to the left breast her voice was catching as she counted. It was all she could do not to lose count and not to move...her entire universe had regressed into those two deceptively simple goals. SMACK. "Fifteen." He paused, slowly stroking the spoon over flesh now hot and stinging. She didn't need to look to see the angry red blotches on her pale tit flesh; she could feel them. Slowly the sharp pain faded into a throbbing heat. She opened her eyes and dared a glance at Hannah to gauge her reaction to the abusive spectacle. The younger woman's green eyes peered intently into Kay's as though trying to read her thoughts. He moved the spoon to caress her right breast and she couldn't suppress a quiet groan of protest. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. SMACK. "Sixteen." SMACK. "Seventeen." As the number of welts increased, so did her determination not to flinch. She'd learned through hard experience that her owner was willing to start again from zero if he felt she was trying to evade the blows. She kept her shoulders back and her tits boldly presented. The strokes to the top and sides of her tits weren't as bad as those to the undersides. Worst of all were the blows to her stiff nipples... SMACK. "Twenty-nine." SMACK. "Thirty." He was back to gently stroking her left breast with the spoon. "Almost halfway done, Kay." "Yes Sir. Thank you." "Shall we see if Hannah would like to add a few strokes?" "Yes Sir." there was silence and Kay realized what her owner had intended. "Ma'am, would you like to deliver a few strokes to my breasts?" Asking the younger woman to add to her torment brought Kay's shame to a new depth. "Again, I'll pass." Hannah replied. "I'll add some colour to that generous ass then, Kay." her owner said, "Assume the position." Kay knelt on the couch with her back to her owner, her knees on the outsides of his thighs. She slowly lowered herself so that her elbows were resting on the floor; her weight was supported by her elbows and by her hips on his legs. 'Wheelbarrow position' he called it. It presented her ass at the perfect height and angle for his hands. And with her knees on either side of his hips she could feel her bare pussy exposed to his eyes... She felt his hands on her rear, rubbing and gently trailing his fingernails over her helpless flesh. She shivered in response. "What's the count so far?" he asked. "Thirty, Sir." Did he think she would forget? She could still feel her mistreated tits ache as they hung heavily from her chest, erect nipples brushing the cold floor. SMACK. The slap of his hand on her left ass cheek forced a grunt from inside her; he hit hard. "Thirty-one." SMACK. "Thirty-two." As with the torment of her breasts, her owner spread the pain around, striking the tops of her thighs, the sides of her ass, and the fleshy area where buttock met thigh. While the spoon caused sharp, acute spots of agony, his hand covered more surface and registered as a harsher, hotter, more generalized pain. SMACK. "Thirty-three." she could feel the muscles in her rear and thighs beginning to twitch involuntarily in response to the assault and in anticipation of the next blow. She tried to focus on her hips, keeping them still. To re-start the punishment again from the beginning would be a fate too terrible to contemplate. Her owner spread the blows across both cheeks, each new swat blazing like fire, drawing gasps and groans. The tears started to flow freely, dripping onto the floor. She had to sniff frequently to keep her nose from running. But through it all, Kay maintained posture and count. SMACK. "Sixty." He stopped and she held position, crying and sniffling, her bruised cheeks burning and spasming uncontrollably. She felt a strong surge of pride at having held still for thirty hard slaps. That pride was short-lived. "Pussy next." he announced evenly. She whimpered, then tried to summon up the strength for more pain. Only six blows left! "May...may I have a few moments first, Sir?" "You can have a couple of minutes." he said, and she felt a perverse surge of gratitude towards him for the small mercy. She crawled off the couch and remained on her hands and knees, head lowered. She breathed deeply, fighting to regain her composure. Her ass felt swollen and scorched. The minutes passed too quickly. "On your back now." he commanded, gesturing with the wooden spoon. She quickly complied, not wanting to incur further strokes or, worse, a re-start. She lay on her back on the hard floor, her head close to his feet, her legs spread as wide as they would go and feet in the air. He reached across the length of her torso and slowly slid the flat of the spoon over her fleshy mound. She knew her close-trimmed pubic hair would provide no protection from the awful spoon. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her legs to remain wide open. "You're wet." he said. Kay moaned, mortified by her body's obvious and wanton response to his dominance. SMACK. Her whole body jerked as the first blow landed. Shock and hurt erupted between her legs. She bit back a loud expletive, settling instead on a pathetic squeak. "Sixty-one." SMACK. Another stinging blow, not as hard but right on her clitoral hood. Her knees stayed wide apart even as her hips trembled. "Sixty-two." SMACK. The third blow landed flush on her left labia. She forced herself to breathe as the pain bit deep. "Sixty-three." "Are those knees creeping closer together?" he asked. Quickly she spread them as wide as they would go, desperately hoping to avoid a re-start. "Please, Sir! I'm so sorry! I beg you to repeat the stroke." Better one more stroke than another sixty-six... There was a long pause as he considered. With every moment, her panic increased. "I'll repeat the stroke." he decided, and she almost sobbed in relief. "Last warning, though." "Yes Sir. Thank you! It won't happen again." SMACK. The repeat blow struck her in the same place and she let out a high-pitched whine. Her legs remained locked in place. "Sixty-three." SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. The last three blows rained down rapid-fire on her defenceless mound. By some miracle she managed to stay widespread as the shocks rippled through her core. "Sixty-four, sixty-five and sixty-six, Sir." she gasped as soon as she found her breath again. He allowed her several minutes to recover. She lay still, no longer caring that her legs were splayed wide in front of her owner and his fiancee. Her tits and ass were starting to tingle and itch from the swelling, and the stinging in her sex had already faded to a pulsing heat. She breathed deeply as her pains eased off to dull aches. "Finish the bathtub, then bring your green toy." he said. Kay quickly agreed, gathering the basin of water and the linens from the foot service and hurrying to the bathroom. Already her cunt was soaking in anticipation of playing with her toy. She loved and hated the way her sex responded to his words with an almost Pavlovian predictability - drooling at the very mention of the thick green dildo. She wanted it inside her. Needed it. And didn't she deserve it? She'd waited so long. Her owner didn't allow her to cum by her own hand – all her orgasms had to come from other people, he insisted. Her husband wasn't getting the job done. Maybe this would be the week her owner would reward her for trying so hard to be good... It took fifteen minutes to clean the bathtub to the point where she'd be willing to lick it if asked. She stowed the detergents then carried the rags downstairs to the laundry room. While there she took the opportunity to frantically switch the whites into the dryer and start a load of coloured clothes in the washer. It wouldn't do to be caught slacking now, after having endured so much.