Liza Makes Promises

"Come, lie down on my lap, you know how," she said to me sweetly, almost lovingly.

Though caught off guard by her tone, I moved quickly. I lay face down, centering my buttocks on her lap. The couch was long enough for my legs and torso to extend on either side with plenty of room to spare. I turned my face to the back, burying it in the cushion. I felt her left hand resting on the small of my back, her right hand casually stroking my buttocks.

"How often do you shave, my dear?" she asked.

"Every couple of days, I guess."

I felt a stinging slap on my right buttock. I jerked.

"You will end each sentence with 'ma'am,' understand?" I heard Martha's voice. "Try it again!"

"Every couple of days, ma'am," I barked out like a soldier to a drill sergeant.

"You did an excellent job on your pussy," she brushed it and forced my legs apart, "but you missed some hairs, here." She circled the area around my anus with her finger, then pulled at a few of them. "Martha, bring me the tweezers!"

I was in shock. Every muscle in my body tightened as I felt her playing with the fine hairs near my opening. Never before in my life had I been touched there. To have it on display and examined by this woman was making me want to die of shame. I buried my face further into the cushion.

The plucking began almost immediately. They were stubborn hairs with deep roots, and my skin was pulled quite far before I felt a stinging pop. I jerked slightly with each extraction, but Ms Thomas seemed to take little notice and proceeded quickly to the next hair. She used her left hand to knead and stretch the rising flesh around my anus to find every hair. She pressed her thumb right against my opening at one point. I could not believe the sensation! Instead of hurting, it felt like a bold kiss and I tried to clinch my buttocks on her thumb, to hold it there.

Smack! She swatted me hard.

"Relax!"

"Yes, ma'am," I shouted into the cushion.

The depilation continued and the pain was beginning to mount. It felt like a nasty horse fly was biting me over and over again. I began to whimper and yelp. She paid me no mind.

"I'll do a couple at a time; it will go faster," she said as if to herself.

The pain was twice as bad and I continued to jerk.

Smack! She hit me hard right on the button. I arched my back and yelped, but she pushed down on me forcefully.

"Ally! Hold her shoulders down. Martha! Hold down her legs!"

I felt the crush of Ally and Martha pushing me into the couch, then the sting of several hairs being pulled at once. My body jerked but went nowhere, thanks to Ally and Martha. With her thumb and finger, I felt Ms Thomas spread my flesh so much at my anus that I felt it gape open. I wanted to die, right there on the spot. I felt a stinging pull right on the rosebud. I cried out in pain. One tearing and pulling sting followed another in rapid succession. She was getting into a rhythm that was robbing me of the ability to breathe through the pain. I thought I was going to choke.

"There, all done!" she exclaimed at last. "Don't you think that looks a lot better, now, Ally?"

"Yes, ma'am." I heard Ally's hoarse, traumatized voice.

"You know, I think this should be your job from now on. You will keep these hairs plucked for her, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ally replied.

"Liza, say 'thank you' to Ally for volunteering to keep your derrière hair free."

"Thank you, Ally," I said obediently.

"Good, good," Ms Thomas said.

She was rubbing my buttocks now and the sting was beginning to subside. I could feel my muscles begin to relax. She brought her hand to rest against my rosebud. Her hand pressed my cheeks apart; I felt full, like having a monster wedgie.

"Now, let's talk about your deportment, shall we, Liza?"

"Yes, ma'am," I squeaked.

"Ally, you may stand up, dear. Liza doesn't need you to hold her anymore."

I felt both Ally and Martha release me.

"Ally tells me you took off your panties in a bar? Is that true, Liza?" Her voice was like honey, sweet and flowing slowly.

"Yes ma'am," I answered, and thought that my greatest pleasure in life would be to strangle that little snitch.

"Well, I'm not even going to ask why you did that, silly girl." Her voice was so sweet to me I couldn't believe my ears. "Whatever the reason, though," she continued, "it's going to get you acquainted with the hairbrush. Now, I've heard you wore a rather revealing swimsuit to the pool, yesterday. Is this the suit in question?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, it doesn't seem too bad to me. The cups cover your breasts nicely and the bottom has a larger rear than most these days. Are you sure this is the suit you wore yesterday?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said again, smiling to myself at her confusion. I was suddenly very happy that I wore "exhibit A." This was my lucky day, as long as nobody spilled water on it.

"Well, I guess some reports just can't be trusted, huh?"

"No, ma'am."

"Ally tells me you were instrumental getting the Smiths to sign a lease. I want to thank you for that, Liza."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

"So, let's recap what we've got here. I owe you for your help with the Smiths, you have been falsely accused of wearing a salacious swimsuit, but you admit to inappropriate behavior in a bar."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, let me think..."

Her fingers tapped against my hole playfully, then she lightly pinched my rosebud. She pressed and pinched and played with it. When the telephone in the next room rang, Martha went to answer it, and then called: "It's Moscow, ma'am."

"Stand next to Ally and wait for me," she said.

I got up quickly and she walked into the other room and closed the door. I looked at Ally and she looked at me. It was obvious that neither of us was sure whether talking was permitted, so we remained silent. Martha came into the room a minute later, carrying the tray with my bikini bottom and robe.

"You are to bring Mrs. Daniels back tomorrow at ten o'clock," she said to Ally. "Madam has decided on twenty-five swats. Let yourselves out."

Martha set down the tray and left the room.

I grabbed my things from the tray in one hand and Ally in the other. I pulled her downstairs and through the door as fast as I could. I pulled her along the sidewalk at a gallop. I could hear faint protests, but I didn't listen. I needed to get back to my apartment as quickly as possible. I was possessed. I didn't care that I was naked from the waist down. I didn't care that Ally was complaining. I had to get home and I needed Ally with me. We ran past a startled gardener, but I didn't care.

I dragged Ally through the door of my apartment and directly to the kitchen. I still had her hand in mine, and I forced it to my butt crack. I pushed it firmly against my hole.

"Hold it there. Don't move it!" I shouted frantically.

Her eyes grew and her jaw dropped, but she did as she was told. I opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a stick of butter. I opened a nearby drawer and rummaged around until I found just the right thing: a spatula with a round, plastic handle about as thick as my thumb. I have no idea how I came up with my plan, but I was working feverishly to make it work.

I went to the table and leaned over it at the waist. Ally kept her hand in place until I unwrapped the butter. I told her to remove her hand, then I pressed that stick right up against my rosebud. I pushed and rubbed until the butter began to melt and lubricate. I picked up the spatula and quickly rubbed butter on the handle. I handed it to Ally.

"Do it!" I commanded.

Nervously, Ally put the tip of the handle against my anus.

"Push it in!" I shouted. "Push it!"

She applied pressure and I felt my sphincter open. The tip slid in, then she applied more pressure. I screamed encouragement. I wanted that spatula buried in my ass! I couldn't stand another moment without it! Ally pushed it until the entire handle was deep inside me.

"Pump!" I yelled.

She began to pull it out and thrust it back in, slowly at first, then quicker at my urging. My hand went to my clit and I furiously squeezed and rubbed it. I shook my head, my hair slapped against the table. I was on fire. I was out of control. My body shook. I spurted vaginal juices on my hand, down my leg, and onto the floor.

When Ally saw the convulsions of the most powerful orgasm she'd ever witnessed, she stopped pumping, leaving the spatula's handle completely buried, and stepped back. She watched as my body rocked and spasms jolted me. The end came suddenly and I collapsed on the table, panting. I rested. Ally stood transfixed.

A minute or two passed before I began to stir. Ally, thinking that it was time to put things away and clean up, reached for the spatula to remove it. I caught her hand.

"No, leave it." I said. "Just leave it where it is. Help me stand up."

Ally took one of my arms and I pressed against the table with my other. Slowly I rose to the standing position, the spatula sticking out of me at an angle toward the floor. I had to keep my legs spread slightly to make room for the flat part of the spatula.

"Help me to the shower," I said.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I walked to the bathroom as she supported me. She pulled back the shower curtain and helped me into place. She removed my bikini top, and then, standing back to not get her clothes wet, she turned on the water. I turned slowly, letting the water cascade against me, then the spatula, making it vibrate. I supported myself against the wall of the stall and let my body adjust to the new sensation in my ass. I felt the water against my buttocks and legs, and gently wiped away the butter from them. I washed off all the vaginal juices; my skin squeaked from the soap and water.

"Liza, I've got to get to work. I'll be missed."

I turned off the water.

"Help me dry," I replied.

She did.

"Help me to the bed," I instructed.

She supported me as I gingerly walked to the bedroom with the spatula still buried deep within me. I lay down on my side, allowing the flat part of the spatula to jut from me like a beaver's tail. I covered myself with the sheet. I faced away from Ally, toward the wall.

"Liza, I've really got to go, now."

"Okay," I agreed.

"I'll check on you later, okay?"

"Okay," I replied.

I listened as the sound of her footsteps left the room. I felt a strange loneliness at her departure, yet rejoiced at the solitude. I concentrated on the spatula, on the fullness and pressure at my rectum. There was a dull pain there, but it felt good. I wanted to remove it, and I wanted to keep it there forever. I was cognizant of the conflicting emotions and sensations within me, and I tried my best to understand them if I couldn't reconcile them. In my mind's eye I hovered above myself, looking down at this new creature I couldn't recognize or explain. 'Who is this person who runs around naked in public, submits to spankings, pees on people and shoves kitchen utensils up her butt?' I asked and marveled. I thought back to that moment when I first realized Marc wanted me naked in front of others, and I relived the moment my dress fell open in front of Sam and Jake for the first time. I tried to remember what my life was like before that, but it was just too hard; my past and former vision of the future were clouded by the ache at my rectum and the pain in my nipple that I realized I was causing by rolling and pinching it. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but I needed to do both.

The sheet tickled my cheek, and I realized suddenly that Marc hadn't though of everything after all. The idea came to me that I could get the scissors, fashion a dress of sorts and leave. I could leave this place of spankings, where people put me on display and masturbate to my private bodily functions. I could leave and let go of the knot in my stomach. I could go and...

"Liza, are you asleep?"

I jumped slightly at the sound of Sam's voice. Immediately my hand went under the sheet to the spatula and I discreetly pulled it from my bowels. No way did I want Sam to find out about this! I pushed the spatula as far from my body as I could without rousing suspicion that something was going on under the sheet, and I kept my hand over it to prevent its outline from being determined. I turned toward him and lay on my back, facing up at him. I felt empty, an absence, nothing.

"You didn't forget, did you?" He looked hurt.

"No, not at all," I assured him. "I was just resting up while I waited."

"Liza, may I give you a 'hello' kiss?" He asked in that butter-melting tone that I promised would bring a positive reply.

'Not here a half minute and he's already invoking one of yesterday's deals,' I observed silently...and drew the sheet at my hip away from my body to uncover my torso from below my breasts to my knees. I spread my legs, revealing and making available my pussy.

Sam lowered his mouth to me and pressed his lips to my labia. I gently pressed the back of his head to me with my free hand as I furtively moved the hand with the spatula to the head of the bed where I was able to quietly hide my latest fetish between the mattress and the wall. Sam was encouraged by the touch of my hand and lingered at my pussy, kissing several times up and down my slit. He spread his lips just slightly at my clitoris, surrounding me with his hot breath. My nipples grew and my thigh muscles twitched. I moved my hands to the sides of his head and put my middle fingers as deeply inside his ears as I could. I drew him to me – hard. I wanted to be filled. His teeth slammed against me and I jumped. Sam took fright and sat up.

"I...I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

I smiled and shook my head.

"Just the opposite," I said in a dreamy voice.

"Oh, good...I was afraid I..."

"It was nice," I assured him.

"Liza, I've got a gift for you. Give me your ankle."

He pulled the sheet from around my feet and I raised my ankle to him. Sam drew what looked like an identity bracelet from his pocket; it had a gold chain with a flat, round gold piece at the middle. He took a small pair of pliers from his other pocket and fastened the two end links together around my ankle: there was no clasp. I realized right away that the only way it was ever going to come off was with even bigger pliers and more strength than I possessed.

"How do you like it?" he asked.

I twisted my outstretched leg one way and another, admiring it from afar.

"Read the inscription," he said.

I sat up in bed and the sheet fell from my upper body. You'd think I wouldn't bother by now, but instinctively my hands went to my breasts, to cover them. I drew my foot toward me until my heel nearly touched my crotch. The flat part of the gold piece was presented just right, but I had to bend to read the small letters. Beginning at the outer edge of the coin-sized gold piece and circling inward, like the shell of a snail, the words "Anything," "No Limits," "Anytime," and "I Promise," were inscribed. I gasped and looked up at Sam.

"I had it made this morning. So you'll always remember," he explained, "you know, what you promised, yesterday."

"Um, yes, I remember," I replied cautiously. "I'll never forget yesterday, never..."

"But on the phone last night you seemed to, you know, act as if you'd forgotten the deal you made."

"I remember several deals: the deal to go out on the bedroom balcony naked, to sit on the counter until Marc got home, that you could kiss me..."

"That's not what I'm talking about!"

"What do you mean?"

"This was the deal." He pointed at the words on the anklet. "You promised to do whatever we said, for as long as we said, anytime we said. Remember?"

"Yesterday's promises..." I began slowly, realizing my worst fears had come true, and searching my memory for those particular, inscribed words.

"Yesterday's promises were promises made yesterday, but not just for yesterday." Sam interrupted. "A promise is forever, like gold."

Marc's words, "good as gold," came back to me and I understood that this anklet was not meant to commemorate an event, rather to perpetuate it. I thought my debt to Sam and my promises of yesterday had ended with the completion of certain tasks, but now I was being told that I my promise was to fulfill every task, no matter what, anytime. My mind was spinning at the magnitude of what Sam expected, and at what he said was the true meaning of my promise. The words "anything," and "for as long as we say," came flooding back to me, but I was unsure about "anytime."

"My promise..." I mumbled as I began again, trying to collect my thoughts and think it through as I spoke, hoping to bring to question and negotiate certain items.

"Your promise is as good as gold. That's what Marc said," Sam interrupted me again. "Are your promises as good as gold?"

"Yes, of course..."

"You promised these things." Sam pointed to the anklet.

"I just can't..."

"Jake and I remember these words. Do you keep your word?"

"Yes, of course, I..."

"Will you do what you promised?"

So, there it was. That was the question I'd been wrestling with. My promises were the soul of this new creature who played this incredible game with her husband and invited players. I promised Marc I'd try to do, to be, what he wanted. I evidently promised Sam to do whatever he wanted, without limits, anytime he wanted. If these were indeed my promises, I knew I would be compelled to keep them, as I've kept all my promises, my whole life. I wanted time to think calmly, remember certain things, but Sam was throwing questions and statements at me rapid fire, telling me what I said and what I promised. Part of me wanted to challenge him, but another part remembered Marc's plea to "just let go." I was able to think only at the pace of the snail-like inscription burning into my ankle, but I did figure out that my next response would be a fateful one.

"Put your hands to your sides," Sam said.

I was startled by this new direction, and it took several seconds for me to understand what he was saying. I had forgotten that my hands clutched my breasts, hiding them from his view. As soon as I realized what he was saying and remembered where my hands were, though, I complied without the slightest compunction, feeling it quite natural to have my hands at my sides, my breasts on display...and to obey.

"Read me the words on the anklet," he said.

I swallowed hard. I knew the words and didn't have to look at the gold piece, but I did anyway, as instructed.

"Anything," I began slowly. "No limits," I paused for a breath. "Any time," I pronounced the words separately, with emphasis, trying to find them familiar. "I promise," I concluded and looked at Sam.

"That's right. There it is. There it all is. You see?"

I suddenly felt as if I were hovering above myself, again. I was split between a figure sitting naked on the bed under the expectant gaze of an eighteen-year-old boy and a specter that hovered, poised ready to break her promises and escape once and for all. The pain and excitement of the humiliations I'd suffered the past three days crashed anew on the naked figure on the bed; the hovering apparition felt nothing. I knew Marc's pride was in the naked figure, not the ghost of my past. Sam's worshipful stare was on my jutting nipples and moist pussy; he would never look at the ghost of the old Liza. The naked figure commanded full attention; the hovering specter was invisible, empty.

"Keep your promise, Liza."

Whether it was a command or a plea, I couldn't tell. I knew only that the conflict raging within me was about to be resolved. The pain in my gut from the "game" would now be embraced or rejected forever. The naked figure would know pain, torment and humiliation, but also pleasure, love and devotion. The hovering ghost would feel nothing, and have nothing but broken promises and no one with whom to share them. These things I knew for certain.