Finding Mr. Wright Ch. 16

As if to show her how eager I was, how I was becoming subsumed in my role, I moved my head forward and sucked at her fingers again. She smiled and let me. I licked at them and sucked on them, taking them one by one into my mouth, licking them all over, lapping between them. I had long ago cleaned all of my remaining moisture from them, but I kept at it, simply enjoying the act of what I was doing for her.

She eventually pulled her fingers away and just stared at me, looking up and down my body, probably deciding what she wanted to do next. I took the same time to look at her while she made up her mind. She had on a long dress, similar to what the Dominants wear to a normal Society event, but this was a deep, dark purple, accented with highlights of gold. Woven into the fabric was a flower pattern the same color as the dress, but since it was a different weave, it stood out. There was a long slit up the side to her thigh, but the slit was not as high as the one in the dress that I had worn recently. The dress was long-sleeved and high on the neck, but with an oval opening on the upper back just below her neck.

As if on cue, she began to take the dress off. She turned her back to me and unhooked the collar, then unzipped the rest of the dress down the rear. She was wearing a black lace bra that came into view when she unzipped. She let the dress fall forward and it slid off her arms. As she pushed it down her body, I could see that she was wearing sheer black stockings and a garter, heels, and 'cheeky' style lace panties. She stepped out of the dress and walked forward, taking a hanger from somewhere I couldn't see and hanging it on a hook on the wall. When she turned and walked back towards me, I could see that her matching bra was a soft cup bra, sheer so that her nipples were obvious underneath. Her panties were sheer in the back, I could see that before, but they were just as sheer in the front. I could see her dark pubic hair underneath, and though it wasn't thick, it was obvious she didn't shave. I was really taken aback then at how really beautiful she was; not that I hadn't noticed before, but I had never looked at her as intensely or sexually as I did now. For the first real time, it hit me that I was going to have sex with a woman--this woman--this evening. Despite my reluctance in the past, the idea actually excited me.

"You are so beautiful, Miss M," I told her, as she walked towards me. I didn't know if she wanted me to speak or not, or whether I needed permission. I was overcome by the moment and just felt the need to tell her what I felt.

If I breached etiquette, she didn't reprimand me. Instead, she smiled at my compliment. "Thank you, dear," she responded with a genuine smile, her tone indicating that she took it as a sincere compliment. She walked closer to me, looking at my naked body. Finally, she broke the silence. "My, my, Elizabeth ... so many things I want to do ... where do I begin?"

I didn't answer her obviously rhetorical question. She moved forward, closer, her hands going to my hips, moving into me, even closer, so that our bodies were touching, our eyes locked on each other's gaze, our faces just a few inches apart. She said with a barely audible whisper, "Kiss me," then leaned in towards me as she placed her lips on mine.

Now, for the first time in my life, I kissed another woman. Not a greeting kiss, like when you say hello to a friend or relative. No, a passionate, sensual, sexual kiss, one to arouse desire and sexual response. I was surprised how soft and supple her lips were, how smooth and warm and soft her tongue felt. Unlike so many men, she wasn't jabbing her tongue into my mouth trying to get at me by force. Instead, it was a gentle, sensual probing, and equally soft, seeking out my tongue to gently touch it, to savor the feeling. I returned the kiss but in my own way, reacting to her soft probing with the soft touch of my own lips and tongue. Our mouths were gently touching but not totally engulfed with each other. It was a very unique thing, kissing another woman like this, and though I had never realistically thought of doing this before, I now regretted waiting all my life to find out how nice and special this was.

I lost track of how long we kissed. Her arms moved from my hips to around my body, with her right hand eventually moving up to cup and massage my breast. She rolled my nipple in between her fingers, gently squeezing and playing with it as we kissed. I wanted desperately to have my arms released so that I could return her embrace, to touch her and play with her like she was doing to me. The passion and the energy began to build between us so that we were both really getting into the kissing when she abruptly stopped.

"Mmmmmmmmm, Elizabeth," she hummed, taking a step back and catching her breath. "I could take you down and just make love to you, but I only have you for one night ..." she added, letting her voice trail off. She moved to the wall and lowered the restraints, letting my arms fall. She bent over and unlocked the spreader bar, removing the bar but not the cuffs around my ankles. She did the same for the chains attached to my arms, removing those, but leaving the cuffs in place.

"This way," she said, walking over to a small padded bench, and I followed her. The bench looked like an end table, but rectangular, with soft padding on the top. The legs of the table flared outward, and at varying spots on the legs were rings where things could be attached. I had seen pictures of this in my online meanderings, and I remembered it was called a 'horse.'

"Lay down," she ordered me.

I replied with a quick, "Yes, Miss M," not wanting to break any protocol (yet). I lay down on my stomach, and she had me scoot forward so that my face was over the edge on one side, while my thighs were butted up against the edge, my legs draping down, just barely able to touch the floor. She picked up an item to the side and inserted it in the front of the table, under my face. It was a head rest not a lot unlike those found on a massage table, as it was oval with a similar opening in the center so you could rest your head, yet your face was in the opening so you could breathe and speak.

She took my arms and had me hold them straight down the legs of the horse, and she then attached them with the cuffs. She did the exact same thing with my legs, attaching the ankle cuffs to the legs of the horse. Unlike being strung up and stretched out overhead, like I was a few minutes ago, I could actually move my arms a little. I couldn't get out, but I wasn't as completely immobile.

I was also keenly aware of my bottom pointing up and exposed. It was obvious this position was perfect for two things, either whipping or sex, as my bottom and my opening were made easily accessible. I began to hope that she would focus on the former, and maybe, just maybe, bring me to the level of pain that I had longed for.

She turned and walked in front of me to a cabinet and opened it. As I lifted my head to watch her, inside I could see some BDSM implements, though I couldn't make out what she was doing or what she selected. When she returned, she had in her hand something I hadn't seen used yet, either on me or anyone else here in the Society ... a long thin stick, similar to a switch, like what some older parents used to use to discipline children.

I stared at the stick in her hand. It was a black wooden stick, several feet long. Unlike other implements I've seen used in the BDSM field, I had some idea how this would feel. Who as a child hasn't ever been hit by a stick? We all know how that feels, but most often it is by another child our own age, and through clothing. For some, parents still use this as a discipline tool, but my parents never did, so I didn't have that experience to compare it to. However, I had no idea how it would feel now, on me, especially since I had no clothing on. And now, it was about to be used on me. I was both excited and scared at the same time, which was very arousing.

Miss M walked around me, looking at me, before returning to the front of me, casually leaning against another item of furniture I could not make out. As she did, she asked, "Have you ever been spanked with a stick like this, Elizabeth?"

"No, Miss M," I replied, my voice cracking a little as I spoke.

"Would you rather I chose a different implement?"

"No, Miss M, I'm happy to submit to whichever one you choose." I actually wanted to feel what this stick, this 'switch', was like when used against my body, but I didn't want to sound too eager. It was a weird mix of both hesitancy and excitement that ran through me at that point. I wondered if it would be anything like the whip that I saw used on Brooke, but at the same time the thought came into my head, I knew that it would be different, but nothing could compare to the whip (well, nothing short of true torture devices designed to permanently damage someone).

"Very well then," she said. "I'm glad you deferred to me. I don't know if I would have changed to something else if you had asked, but it's good to know that you are giving in to me." She walked around me, holding the stick in one hand, gently slapping it on the open palm of her other hand. I placed my face in the headrest and closed my eyes as she moved behind me, focusing on the sound of her heels on the floor as she walked, along with the tapping of the crop on her hand.

I began bracing myself for the feeling of the stick across my body, as the desire to be struck built in me. As with so many things now, I accepted that this was me, my desire. Accepting that I *wanted* to be hit or spanked or struck or whatever you wanted to call it. I just knew I wanted to feel the intense pain and pleasure that the stick in Miss M's hand could bring. My mind and body were starting to yearn for it. I think Miss M could sense it.

She was still behind me mostly, just a bit off to the side. With my head in the headrest, I couldn't see anything other than her legs, so I wouldn't know what she was doing or when a blow would come.

Instead of launching right into it, though, she used the stick to touch lightly up and down the back of my thighs, then over and across my bottom. At first, it was just a light touch, then she changed it to a light tapping. I could feel the long thin edge of the stick as it slapped my skin, nowhere hard enough yet to even remotely cause any pain, but enough to start working my mind and body up to a level where I would welcome the strikes more and more.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Elizabeth?" she asked me.

"Yes, Miss," I responded though short gasps. Her tapping had grown a bit harder, enough so that there was just a slight sting. Her question, though, was what was more perplexing. What beauty was she referring to? My supposed beauty? Probably not. The look of me attached to the horse? Maybe. Perhaps she meant it more as the beauty of the entire scene, a naked woman bent over before her, about to be whipped. That was possible. As the tapping slowed, it became ever so slightly more intense. Beautiful? Again, I mused it over in my mind, before coming to the true aspect of what she said, what she meant. It was the beauty of the feeling, the anticipation, the desire. She saw in me the desire to be struck, to receive the pain she was about to inflict, and in that, she saw unmistakeable, intense beauty.

At this point, my breathing was becoming more and more shallow and rapid, anticipating the build up of what was to come. Miss M broke the silence again, "Is this what you want, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Miss M," I said quickly, "Please."

"Please is it?" she asked. "Please what, Elizabeth??"

"Please do it," I said, not being able to form the words I knew she wanted to hear.

"Not good enough," she said, and even as I answered her a second ago, I knew what she wanted.

"Please ..." I said, hesitating, wanting more, but unable to say it aloud. Forcing myself, the last vestiges of my will gave in to my desire. "Please Miss M," I began, pleading with her, "please use the stick on me ... please hit me ... oh gosh I want you to so badly ... I want you to hit me ... to hurt me ...." There it was. I let it out. I let my need come out of me and gave it to her. However, as if it wasn't obvious before, I gave her permission to hit me and hurt me and what's more, I needed her to do it.

She didn't waste a moment, as she drew back the stick and slapped it across by bottom. My body jumped at the contact even as I gasped at the sting. It was both painful and wonderful at the same time. I didn't squeal or scream, as she didn't swing nearly as hard as she could, but it certainly hurt. It was a little like the belt that Brooke used, but it was more focused into a smaller contact point, right along the slender length of the switch. Yes, I thought to myself, this is what I have been waiting for.

She turned a bit and I felt another strike come down across my bottom, this time on the other cheek. I jumped again, straining against the restraints holding me in place. I let out a louder gasp, something between a moan and a squeal, as the heat and sharpness of the sting moved deep into my backside and flowed through my lower body.

This time, though, she didn't give me a chance to rest. She moved the switch back to the other side of my bottom, near where she had struck me the first time, and started some hard, rapid tapping. This was fast tapping, much harder than the warm up, but not as hard as when she used the switch to strike me. She started with a medium strength tapping, then built it up harder and faster as she went. The intensity of the feeling was not lost on me, as the sting was sustained for so long as she kept tapping, increasing the intensity, drawing out the feeling into a much longer sensation than one, quick strike. However, as the tapping was just about to get too intense, she drew back and finished it with one, solid strike even harder than the first two.

The sound I made when the switch came down was one I had never made before. It was a combination of a sharp intake of breath, like a strong gasp, coupled with a yelp. Where I had let out a squeal before, it was with an exhale of breath. This was the opposite, as it was that same kind of noise, but with a gasp/intake of breath instead. Most importantly, though, it was completely uncontrolled by me, an absolute reaction to what she had just done. After I let out this new gasp, I realized how different the pain was. The stinging was more intense than anything I had felt yet, and not just with Miss M, so I had to focus hard not to let it overcome me. I found myself pulling at the cuffs, pulling at the rings, tensing the muscles in my arms and legs and abdomen, naturally trying to escape the pain that now pulsed up and down and throughout my body.

She didn't let up, though. No sooner had she struck my bottom hard on that one side then she began on the other side. The tapping started hard on the other side of my bottom, building it up in strength, before she let loose and struck me hard again, in similar fashion to what she had just done to me. I yelped again with that same type of gasp. It was painful again but the sensation was building, heating up my body as I concentrated on the sting and pain pulsing through my bottom, extending outward from there, down and up through my body. These were feelings and sensations that all at once told me that I was alive, that made me *feel* alive, and started to have both a burning and erotic desire all over, emanating from between my legs but spreading all throughout my body. I could almost feel it as if someone were touching me and massaging me down below and all over my entire body.

I let out a long breath, trying to settle myself, to gain some form of control over the sensations that were pulsing through me. Miss M came up close behind me and I felt her hand on my bottom, massaging the places where she had struck me. From what I could feel (I couldn't see anything at all with my face in the headrest), I could tell that she was examining what she had done, either to admire what she had done or possibly to to make sure I wasn't hurt seriously, making sure I wasn't damaged by her strikes.

Recognizing that I wasn't being hurt to any extreme level, her touch turned from examination to sensual massage, and she approached closer, her body leaning against my left leg. Her hand sliced quickly between my legs, pushing inward and upward between my thighs, touching my opening, bent over as I was. As she did, my own moisture flowed, telling her how aroused I was, how aroused she had made me ... how what she had done had affected me so intensely and so intimately.

Now that her hand was there, she had an even more arousing and erotic effect on me. She pivoted her hand so that it was now flat against my bottom before she moved it, and she first pushed one and then two fingers inside me. She kneeled down behind me and kissed my lower back, just above my bottom, with an open mouth, wet, lingering kiss, one that moved down further and over my bottom, moving from side to side, cheek to cheek.

I lifted and turned my head, trying to see exactly how she was positioned and see what she was doing, but it was too difficult to maintain, and I could see very little. Instead, I focused on the enjoyment of the different points of contact she made with me ... the sensuality of her kiss on my bottom and cheeks, and the invasiveness of her probing into me. If she kept this up long, there's no way I would be able to hold back.

"So how does this feel so far, Elizabeth?" she whispered into my ear.

"Absolutely incredible ... ungh ... Miss M," I answered, in between ragged breaths, and I absolutely meant it.

"Would you like more?"

"Yes ... please Miss M ... more ...," I told her, fumbling for the words, yet pleading with her to continue. I realized that she hadn't been specific, whether it was more pain or more touching or more sensuality or even more manipulation of my body. I didn't matter, just so long as she did something. However, in my mind, I wanted more intensity, more pain.

Before I could say anything else, I felt her moving to touch me differently. With the hand that was between my legs, she changed it so her index finger was now between my cheeks, seeking out and putting pressure against my nether hole. Her finger was naturally wet from the moisture between my legs, so she rubbed it against and around my hole, then slowly she pushed her finger inside. At the same time, her ring finger now moved in between my labia, entering me along side her middle finger. Her fingers moved in unison then, going in and almost out of me, in and out of both holes, as she stimulated me in both areas down below at the same time. My gasps betrayed me, letting her know how much I was enjoying what she was doing.

She didn't stop there, though. Her other hand moved, the one with the switch in it, and she began touching my bottom again with it. She began slowly at first, to the point where I could barely feel, moving up from my bottom to over my back and shoulders. She moved up and down my back, making the skin all over sensitive, preparing it for what was to come. She never used the amount of force that she used on my bottom before, much to my chagrin. I didn't want to tell her, but I both yearned and feared for more.

"Focus, Elizabeth," she said, breaking the silence. "Focus on the pleasure ... focus on the pain ... make the two the same ... combine them ...," she said, letting her voice trail off as she gave me a particularly hard slap with the stick on the small of my back, causing me to both wince and squeal.

"Yes, Miss M," was my response, through gritted teeth, still feeling the recent hard sting on my back. I began to do what she said, first focusing on how her hand felt below, and how good it felt. What I noticed, though, was that as I tried to focus on just the pleasure, I found that the pain in my back and bottom altered how the pleasure felt down below. I had to focus past the pain to isolate the pleasure I was feeling between my legs. It was like, well, in forcing myself to focus past the pain, at the same time, it made the pleasure more intense. I tried something different then, focusing on the pain instead, trying to ignore the pleasure. In doing so, though, it made me both more sensitive to the pain *and* the pleasure at the same time. I went back and forth like that, focusing on one then the other, then I stopped trying to ignore the opposite sensation. At that point, both sensations became one, with the intensity of each doubling and tripling without even being touched! Each one built and increased the other!! Before I could stop it, an abrupt and powerful orgasm ripped through me.