Clara's Story Pt. 01

"Yes," Clara said.

"Yes, Sir will be fine for today," he said, firmly correcting her as he placed his hand on the small of her back to calm and guide her. His hand smacked her with moderate force, but Clara, having no frame of reference, was stunned. She shrieked at the unwelcome sensation.

"Count, pet," Ian reminded her.

"One, thank you, Sir."

He concentrated his strikes toward the bottom of her ass and his hand fell with regularity. He cut her no slack with her counting obligations and after only a few errors she realized that she needed to keep up with him. When he reached twenty, he paused to let her know that had she submitted to him for her punishment when she was told, they'd be finished by now. She moaned, dreading the sixty-five still to come. By thirty she was dancing in place, which he allowed because it didn't interfere with his work, and by forty Ian realized he would have to vary the parts of her ass that he spanked. She was not handling the punishment well and had missed ten counts, so he gave her a five-minute break.

"You're doing well," he told her, rubbing her back. ... under the circumstances, he thought to himself. He did not allow her to stand up holding his hand firmly on her back, keeping her bent over the chair.

"Can you please just count those last 10?" she pleaded.

"No, pet. Those are not the rules of engagement. You understood the consequences for not counting."

A guttural cry of frustration immediately preceded the stomping of her foot and the spankings began again. This time she was sure to keep careful count, and Ian's compromise was to vary the location of his strikes to fan out the pain until she was more accustomed to punishment. When they reached eighty-five, Clara's creamy, white skin had turned a bright shade of red. He felt very pleased with his work. "You did great, Clara. I know that was hard. I'm proud of you for enduring, but I hope you won't let punishments get out of hand like this in the future."

"I won't!" she said, sobbing as he helped her to stand up straight. With her pants still down around her knees and her ankles spread wide, Ian helped her to cross the room where he positioned her in the corner. "No, please!" she begged when she realized what he had in mind for her. Tears streamed down her face, but Ian was sure it was because of the humiliation rather than her sore backside.

"You have ten minutes, pet," He informed her as he positioned her in the corner of his living room. He had selected a blank space where she would have no visual stimulation at all. "Don't turn around until I tell you. Don't plead with me, don't talk to me, and don't move for 10 minutes. I'm going to sit down on my sofa and admire your punished body on display for me. While you pout here in the corner, your hands are immobilized so you will be unable to hide the shame of your punishment. Another stomp of her foot came and Ian stepped on the spreader bar. "Do not move," he said firmly.

She heard him approaching after what felt like 10 minutes, and she wanted to turn around to face him. "Don't move," he reminded her. "And don't talk." Her compliance stirred his cock and a moment later, his timer went off. He gave it a few more seconds before he told her she could turn around. He wanted to make sure she had learned the lesson of not moving until told to do so. He smiled warmly at her. "You did great. I'm so very proud of you. Do you still want that orgasm?"

She nodded her head and between sniffles, she said, "Yes, please."

"Come." He led her to the sofa where he spread out a towel for her on the leather surface and he guided her to sit. She winced in pain as she sat, just as he meant it to. He adjusted the spreader bar to remove her pants and set her legs a little wider apart.

"Let's get your carapace off, shall we?" She nodded her head and watched his motions carefully as he gripped the golden cup and removed it with ease. Her lips parted in surprise at how simple it was for him.

"Where is my hair?"

He grimaced. "I removed it. I should have asked you first and I apologize for that. I'll make it up to you, though, pet." Quickly redirecting her thoughts away from her missing pubic hair, his fingers dug right into her cleft, massaging her clit. She was drenched.

"Can't you just unlock my hands so I can give myself a rub? I know exactly how I like it."

Ian shook his head. "I need to have much better control of you to leave you unbound when the cup is disconnected."

Accepting his answer, at least for now, Clara closed her eyes and focused on the sensations between her legs. She coached him on just how she liked to be touched until he had her well in hand and she could just sit back and relax. His strong fingers rubbed her clit firmly and he inserted the fingers of his other hand into her vagina. Having monitored her search history, he knew she never looked at anal material, which is why he hadn't blocked access to her anus; and he didn't approach it today. There's plenty of time for that later he reminded himself.

Clara's climax came quickly, as though her body was primed and ready to go; which of course it was after not having access to her sex for a week and a half. "You may orgasm, pet," he said quickly. He needed to make sure she associated his permission with her pleasure.

Her back arched and her limbs stiffened as waves of pleasure coursed through her. "Holy fucksticks!" she hollered as the pleasure overtook her. Her expression during her orgasm was adorable, he decided. Everything about her was charming and he looked forward to taming her. And she would need to be tamed. As warm and caring as she was, she was also stubborn and had a temper.

In the afterglow of a satisfying orgasm, Ian used a warm, soapy washcloth to clean her up and he reattached the chastity cup to her body. With a satisfying noise, the magnets engaged and she was back under his thumb.

"I'd like to be able to give you regular orgasms, pet," he told her.

"I'd like that too," Clara admitted, blushing.

"Orgasms are a privilege. They are entirely dependent on your behavior." He pulled something from his pocket. "One more thing," he said and depressed the button of the medical device, delivering the cocktail of drugs he knew would knock her out. "You're mine now."

She looked confused and he knew she wouldn't remember him administering the medication or falling asleep. A soft kiss was planted on her forehead as Ian scooped her sleeping form up. He carried her down to his basement where a personal sized platform like the one he had in his laboratory had been set up. He stepped up onto the smooth, blue, illuminated surface with Clara in his arms and he activated the transportation device.