Sarah's Journey into Submission

"Stand up and turn around."

I lifted myself up and did as I was told.

She smiled and poured herself another cup of tea. "Play with yourself."

"Now?" The command had been delivered so casually that I wasn't sure I understood. Though our conversations up until now had been a clue that privacy was one of my luxuries I would now be doing without, it seemed insane that she would find entertainment watching me play with myself on demand

She frowned. "Your hesitation had been noted. Yes, now!"

I dropped my hand to my crotch and began to fondle myself. Self-consciousness made me temporarily numb, but in a few moments my body remembered the familiar sensations of pleasure as my fingers automatically stroked the most sensitive places. The knowledge that I was performing for her was an added stimulus.

"Keep your eyes open," she warned. "Play with your nipples as well."

I tweaked a nipple through my blouse, twisting it hard through the fabric. The though occurred to me that she was studying my technique to find out where my buttons were, so I was deliberately rough. In moments, I was panting and sweating. Ordinarily, my mind would be occupied by fantasies, but now I had no need of them. The reality of masturbating in front of this arrogant woman had more potency than anything I could imagine. Her eyes bore into mine. They were filled with cruel humour, but also something deeper and far more intrinsic that connected us. My eyes, I suspected, were glazed and unfocused.

I began to quake – close, so close!

"Stop," she said.

Reluctantly, I let the hand that was fondling my breast drop for an instant, but continued with the other down between my legs. I had heard her command, and in the second or two it took to really compute her request and to realize that the game had begun and I was now the slave and that I was supposed to stop, on some other level I couldn't. Call me a rebel or even impudent, and maybe I was starting things off on a bad note, disobeying my first command and all – but this was as much of my own test as it was one form her. I wanted to see how far she was willing to go, or wanted to see just what such a punishment was for disobeying.

And so I continued, playing as if I hadn't heard the command, and much to my chagrin she didn't repeat the request. At least if she had, I might have been able to feign innocence and afterwards say I hadn't heard her, being too busy to concentrate and all, but she let me go. She was the master at this after all, and she knew the game and how to play it. It was a game of chess, and though I had made the first move, she was a pro at this and mere seconds later, I was quaking as an orgasm washed through me.

"You are quite a performer, my dear. I can see sexual desire isn't lacking in your little body. I like that, it shows the signs of a true exhibitionist lurking deep inside," Lucy said as she waited for me to get down from my high. "But you did disobey me..."

"I'm sorry, Mistress." The apology was for the sake of form, of course. I had no illusions that she was about to pardon me. I had no desire to be pardoned either. Wasn't that why I disobeyed in the first place? I was too turned on to resist the temptation, and curiosity alone would have provoked me to continue. I had to know if any reality could match the power of my dreams.

"You will be," she finally said.

Chapter 3

"Now understand this," said the woman in the same no-nonsense voice, "I'm going to spank you till you're raw."

I crawled to her, head down, ashamed to let her read the heat in my eyes, afraid that it would inspire her to treat me even more severely than she planned. I draped myself as gracefully as I could over her lap. In my fantasies, I had never considered the intimacy of this position. I would feel the warmth of her breath on my back, her hard thighs under my belly, her hand sliding up and down my cheeks and thighs, not to explore the territory but to tell me where the hurt would be.

"Fingers and toes on the floor," she murmured. "unless you want me to start over."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, doing as I was told, realizing that she had just offered me a way to prolong the sessions if I wanted to, that I could double the number of blows, and probably increase their force, just by letting my hands obey a natural impulse.

"Understand, I'm doing it for one reason only and that is so you'll be so sore that the touch of my fingernail will make you squeal and scurry to obey my commands. You'll stay raw like that every day this week, and you'll scamper to kiss my feet after I spank you, because if you don't, it will be worse. Do you understand?"

She waited, one hand cradling a breast and the other hand on my hair.

Very slowly, I nodded.

"Very good," Lucy said softly.

And then the first stroke fell, and she spanks me by hand. There's a certain intimacy when flesh meets flesh. She can feel the skin yield and rebound, growing warmer with each ringing smack. At first, red handprints mark the spots where she strikes, branding me with her personal mark.

My eyes had been heavy lidded and dreamy with the afterglow of arousal, now they flew wide open with shock. My ex-boyfriends' love taps and half-hearted slaps had not prepared me for this fiery explosion of pain. My immediate instinct was to leap from her lap, clap my hands over my bum, and head for the nearest exit. Instead, I clutched the soft carpet, until I could control my voice enough to whimper, "Thank-you, Mistress."

Already, I was thinking frantically – how many? I hadn't been told.

"Don't thank me yet, I'll tell you when."

She struck again on the other cheek. I jerked and whined, but I was mindful of her waning, and kept my fingers and toes rooted to the floor. There was no way I could going to prolong this.

She paused then, and rubbed my ass cheek with her hand. "Two red handprints on your bottom," she observed. "My signature of ownership."

I might have retorted that she didn't own me, of that the marks would be temporary, but a sudden flurry of smacks drove any rebellion out of my mind. "And for your earlier impudence," she said, hitting the same spot over and over, while my whine rose in pitch and volume. When I was sure I could take no more, she switched to my other cheek and repeated the attack.

The pain was more than I bargained for, but not any more than I could stand, and I told myself this was what I deserved for my impudence. I was a little curious too, there was a need in me to find out if submitting to a spanking would pay erotic dividends, or simply cure me of my unrealistic fantasies forever. It didn't take long to find out, and soon my ass was a uniform shade of scarlet.

As her hand continued to flail my buns, I felt a warmth growing in my loins. Some mental switch had been thrown, transforming pain and humiliation into lust, and I began to raise myself for her hand, offering myself for more. Even when it was over, and her hand finally stopped and I thanked her properly, my ass was still raised high in the air for more.

"I'm glad you didn't think that was going to be it," she said, smacking me once more before standing me up. She turned me and stretched me out on the length of the island counter in one swift motion, with my head towards the door. She scooped up my chin so that I could see the wooden paddle in her hand, and then she laid it against my buttocks, pressing gently on the reddened flesh and making my ass feel enormous and hot.

I laid still, almost basking in the odd calm I settled into, as if the earlier excitement cleared everything -- even fear and trepidation – out of its path. Despite the pain in my buttocks, my pussy was unbelievably swollen and wet.

"Now listen further," Mistress Lucy went on. "When this paddle comes down, you're going to move for me. You're going to twist and you're going to groan. You're not going to struggle to get away from me. You wouldn't do that. And you're not going to take your hands from the back of your neck. And you're not going to open your mouth either. But you're going to twist and groan. You're going to bounce under my paddle, in fact. Because with every blow you are going to show me how you feel it, and how you appreciate it, and how grateful you are for the punishment you're receiving, and how much you know it's what you deserve. And if that is not exactly what happens, well..."

I was amazed. Never had anyone spoken to me quite like this, quite this coldly and simply, and yet it seemed to have behind it some awesome practicality that almost made me smile. The way she talked, she was so casual about it. Of course it was exactly what this woman should do, I reflected. Why not? I had disobeyed her after all.

And of course she'd demand that I twist and groan to display my understanding that I was being humbled. She wasn't going to tie me down for this. Instead, she wanted to see how eager I was to make amends.

The odd sense of normality came back to me as I reasoned, for the moment anyway, that I would obey, and I would twist and groan.

After all, it was going to hurt, wasn't it? Abruptly I found out.

The paddle slammed me, bringing forth effortlessly the first loud moan. It was a large thin wooden paddle with an unnervingly crisp sound when it smacked again, and in the hail of blows that stung my sore buttocks, I found myself without a conscious decision suddenly writhing and crying, the tears springing freshly to my eyes. I was brave though, and it took two hits before I started yelping.

The paddle seemed to be making me twist and turn, tossing me about on the counter, slamming my buttocks and making them rise again. I felt the counter creak under me as my hips rose and fell. I felt my nipples rub against the wood, yet I kept my tear-filled eyes on the open doorway, and lost as I was in the sound spanking of the paddle and the loud cries muffled by my sealed lips, I could not help but try to picture myself, wondering if Mistress Lucy were pleased with it, whether it was enough.

I heard my own full-throated moaning in my ears. I felt her tears sliding down my cheeks, to the wood. My chin hurt as I rocked under the paddle, and I felt my long hair fall down around my shoulders, sheltering my face as I sobbed and begged.

The paddle was really hurting now, almost unbearably, and I was rising high off the board as if asking with my whole body, "Isn't it enough, Mistress, isn't it enough?" Never in all life had I so profuse a display of misery. Now I was looking at another moment of truth, wondering if it was already too late to take my pride and clothed and excuse myself. Would it do any good to declare my rights? Could I say the whole thing was unfair?

The paddle stopped. A soft torrent of sobs filled the sudden silence, and humbly, I squirmed against the counter as if imploring my Mistress. The paddle waved in front of my face. "Kiss it." I puckered up, smelling warm leather and oil. "Thank me."

"Thank-you." My voice was full or gravel.

The paddle fell again, many times, hard.

"Let's try that again," said Mrs. Lucy. "Try to sound sincere this time."

I kissed the paddle like I was in love with it. I said, "Thank-you, Mistress, for giving me the hard paddling I deserved!"

"Good, you show promise," she cooed. "Now quiet."

Then I felt her fingers playing up and down my slit. She slipped her index finger into my pussy and fucked me with it, then withdrew it and reached around me to press it against my lips. I opened my mouth for the finger and sucked it clean, tasting myself.

I wanted to thank her again for the paddling, but I remembered her saying to be quiet, and I didn't want to talk with my mouth full anyways and just moaned instead. This brought out a chuckle and she returned her hand to toy between my legs, adding her middle finger to the penetration. "My pussy," she murmured, as her ring finger danced feather soft against my clit. I felt her thumb dip into my slit and gather moisture, then slide between my cheeks to slip into my anus. I stiffened.

"Don't resist me," she cautioned. "Your ass is mine as well." She wriggled her thumb inside me to emphasize the point.

I tried to relax as her hand worked me, my ass red and raw, and felt myself riding towards orgasm again. "Permission to cum Mistress," I finally moaned.

"Permission granted," she said, her thumb pressing deeper.

It was all I needed. In moments, I was clawing the side of the counter with my fingers and arching into her hand as I was rocked by the most intense spasms I had ever experienced.

I slumped across the counter, limp and spent, while she withdrew her hand and wiped it with a tissue.

"Now that you are no longer distracted," she said casually, reaching behind for something I couldn't see. "I think that you will find the rest of your punishment salutary."

I was horrified! Until that moment, I had thought my ordeal was over, and had considered the paddling no more than a bit of rough foreplay. For the first time, I was facing the fact that gratifying my fantasies was not her goal here.

My ass was already blazing, and I could no longer depend on the numbing effects of arousal to make the hurt bearable. When something brushed my sore buttocks very lightly, I let out a little cry behind my clenched teeth and my true chastisement would begin.

"Very good," came the voice. "Now turn over."

I rushed to comply, turning over as best and as easily I could on the counter, with my legs up and as wide apart as I could spread them, my whole body shuddering.

It was the paddle I had expected, worse than before, but Mistress Lucy spread me out on my back, drawing my hands over my head, and quickly tying them to the edge of the island, telling me to keep my legs spread or have them spread for me.

"I know that you disobeyed deliberately, just to provoke me. You wouldn't think of asking me to be more severe, but you believe that you can manipulate me by breaking the rules a little. I know all of your tricks and games, my dear, and the nest time you are tempted to misbehave," she promised, "you will remember this night."

I struggled to get my legs wide, and my body was being stretched to its full length as my ankles were now tied, and I felt panic again, bouncing helplessly on the smooth unyielding wood as I realized that I could not free myself.

In a flurry of soft urgent cries I tried to plead with Mistress Lucy. But the moment I saw her smiling down at me, my voice died in my throat and I bit my lip hard, looking up into the clear black eyes that quivered ever so slightly with laughter.

"I bet your boyfriend liked those breasts, didn't he?" Mistress Lucy said. I was a full c-cup, so he did indeed. And reaching with both hands, she pinched my nipples between thumb and forefinger. "Answer me!"

"Yes, Mistress," I wailed, my soul quaking with the sense of my vulnerability to those fingers, the flesh around my nipples shrivelling as the nipples themselves hardened to knots. A deep pang between my legs caused me to try to close them, when that was quite impossible. You see, my nipples were like little activators, the juices flowing once they were played with. And the rougher they were pinched or twisted, the wetter I got. "Mistress, please, I will never--"

"Shhhh!" Mistress Lucy clamped her hand over my mouth and I arched my back, sobbing against it. Oh, it was worse being bound; I could not make myself be still. But I stared at Mistress Lucy with wide eyes and tried to nod, though the hand held me firm.
"Slaves have no voice," she said, "until the Master or Mistress asks to hear that voice, and then you answer with the proper respect." She let go of my mouth.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered.

The firm fingers took hold of my nipples again, and my juices began flowing in earnest. "As I was saying," Mistress Lucy went on, "he must have liked these breasts."

"Yes, Mistress!" I answered, my voice quavering.

"And this avaricious little mouth." She reached down and pinched shut my pubic lips so that the moisture overflowed and I felt an itch as it trickled.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered breathlessly.

Mistress Lucy lifted a white leather belt and showed it to me, like a tongue extending from her hand. And gathering my left breast from the top in her left fingers, she bunched the flesh and plumped it as I felt the warmth suffusing my bosom. I couldn't keep quiet, and the moisture between my legs trickled down into the crack of my burning red buttocks. My spread-eagle body strained in vain to close itself.

The fingers stretched my left nipple and snapped it. And then the white tongue of the leather belt spanked my breast in a series of hard loud slaps. "Oh!" I gasped aloud, unable to prevent it. The [addling that I had just received was nothing like this. The desire to break free and cover my breasts, both of them, was irresistible and impossible! Yet they seethed with feeling as never before and my body twisted against the wood. The little strap spanked the nipple and the bulging flesh harder and harder.

I was in a frenzy as Mistress Lucy turned her attention to my right breast, plumping it in the same manner, snapping the nipple. My cries grew louder, my struggling more violent. The nipple was rock hard under the torrent of licks.

I closed my mouth, sealed it shut. I would have screamed at the top of my lungs, "No, I can't bear it." The concentrated blows came faster and faster. My body became my tortured breasts, my desire fanned by the licks like a torch flame.

I swung my head so violently that the hair streamed over my face. But Mistress Lucy lifted it back and she bent down and looked at me, but I could not look up at her.
"So tumultuous, so exposed!" she said to me, and she kneaded the right breast, pumping it up high again, and then continued to spank it. I gave a high keening cry against I clenched teeth. The fingers tweaked the nipples, massaged the flesh, and the heat roared through me, my hips thrust upwards in a sudden violent convulsion.

"This is how a bad little girl should be punished," the Mistress said.

"Yes, Mistress," I sobbed immediately.

Mercifully the fingers were withdrawn. My breasts felt huge, heavy, a riot of warm pain and thumping sensation against me. My low, raw sighs caught in my throat.

And I whimpered when I realized what was coming. I could feel Mistress Lucy's fingers between my legs again, pushing the lips apart even as I sought to close myself, the muscles in her my straining vainly. My heels thumped the wood, the leather straps pressing into the flesh of my insteps. Again I lost all control, struggling violently in a deluge of tears. But the licking strap was slapping my clitoris. I cried out again at the searing intensity of the mixture of pleasure and pain, my clitoris seeming to harden as never before, the strap snapping up at it over and over as Mistress Lucy swung from beneath the sex with her right hand.

I could feel my lips puffing, the moisture squirting, the slaps sounding wetter and wetter. My head rolled on the wood; I cried louder and louder, my hips riding up to meet the strap, my whole sex a formless explosion of fire in me.