Nora Works as a Dominatrix

For a moment, I considered giving him a hand spanking before getting back to the tawse. However, I doubted my ability to control myself. I felt that I was on a verge, and if I put my hands on his backside, I'd be grabbing his cock next and...

Come on Nora, get a hold of yourself, do the work you were supposed to do. I stood next to him and tapped him with the tawse. I said, "They used to give guys in the British Isles thirty-six strokes with this."

I remembered a detail that I couldn't confirm, but I mentioned it anyway. "They used to have a smooth stone outside onto which the victims could press their blazing buttocks and cool it off. As you can see, we don't have any such a stone here."

"I know Miss Kimmel, but please hit me as hard as you can." Yet I felt both sorrow and lust as I looked at his buttocks and thighs exposed to my soon-to-be flailing tawse.

"All right, if that's what you want, then I'll give it to you." However, when I resumed my beating of him, I didn't use maximum force.

Kevin must have noticed my tactic, because he called out, "Give it to me harder, Miss Kimmel; I've been such a bad boy."

I almost giggled at his phrasing, but I soon saw the effect my leather tool was having on him. The noise of each impact was echoing in the room. After twenty strokes on his bare backside, his flesh was turning bright red and a few purple bruises were appearing within those areas. He was also groaning loudly each time I hit him.

After some more strokes, I said, "Kevin, I think that you've had more than enough to learn your lesson."

He was gasping for breath again. "But I was supposed to get a full thirty-six, Miss Kimmel." I had lost count, but I had probably given him nearly thirty on his behind.

I decided to rely on my old expertise as a dominatrix. He was paying for it, but it would be painful for him to sit down with what I had already done to him.

"I've done this many times before, and I don't want to hurt you more than necessary." In the old days, I had sometimes given them more than they had asked for. My attitude back then had been, fuck them, they're already in position, let them take it. This time I threw the belt on the floor and I moved forward again to untie his hands.

He didn't make any further complaints about ending the session a little early. Maybe he was really hurting more than he had expected. Or perhaps he really did respect my authority about what to do.

"All right, it's corner time, or let's just call it wall time. You think you can get up?"

He didn't respond but he tried to get off the bench. It was obvious that he was having some trouble with that, so I took him by the arm to help him. That was beyond the call of duty for a dominatrix, but it had been a harsh beating.

Kevin was a bit unsteady on his feet as he shuffled over to the wall with his pants down. It wasn't even necessary to tell him to put his hands on his head; he did it without being told to. That guy has been punished before; he knew the drill. Then I saw that he had a huge erection sticking out towards the wall.

I had seen that many times two years earlier, but his boner was truly exciting me now. That could be in your mouth, or God help you, in your cunt in an instant. Nora, don't look at him or his big cock. As I turned my head in the other direction, I could feel fluids coming out of me and dampening my panties and pantyhose.

I saw that my wine glass was almost empty, so I went to get a bottle to refill it. When I sat down again I was feeling rather jangled. In the old days -- just two years earlier -- such BSDM activities were more like games, undergraduate hi-jinks.

That evening seemed more adult, more serious. For one thing, I usually spanked the guys with my hands. There were occasional paddles, belts, and hairbrushes as I had used on my old boyfriend Paul. What I had done to Kevin was more intense. Possibly subconsciously I felt being more "professional" meant inflicting more damage on the clients. Meanwhile, he just stood there quietly.

I had an aching need to masturbate as soon as possible. I also wanted him out of the room if I wasn't going to ball him in there. But I couldn't just rush him out; that would seem unprofessional. Just to have something to say, I commented, "Your ass is really a mess."

Without turning around, he replied, "That's the way I wanted it."

"So you've never been struck with a tawse?"

"I said with belts, like pants belts." I was so frazzled that I had forgotten that he had already told me. "But never a tawse before."

"The one I used today was longer and heavier than some other ones we have around here."

"Why did you use it?"

"I'm not sure." I think I did know. Never having swung a tawse on someone before, I perhaps wanted to prove something to myself by using the biggest one I could get. I didn't want to tell him that however, and we lapsed into an awkward silence.

I changed my mind and decided it was acceptable to have him leave at that point. "Kevin, we're done here. You can go now." He pulled his pants up and went to get his suit jacket. Then he looked at me as if we were going to say goodbye perhaps. I think he thought I was attractive and he was reluctant to leave.

I refused to look him in the eye, and then when he continued to stare at me I made a little flicking motion with my hand to signal that he should depart. I felt like yelling, for God's sake, either fuck me or get out of here and let me jerk-off in peace.

He looked forlorn for a moment, and then he turned and trudged up the stairs. I got up and locked the door behind him.

For a moment I wished I was in one of the familiar rooms at my house in Maspeth. I knew that I would want to masturbate there too, but it had never felt as urgent as it did in that basement

I was wearing pantyhose, not straps and garters as I often did when hooking, so I had to take everything off: stockings, panties, and shoes. Then I took a dildo out of my bag, a new one I had recently purchased. It was one of those rubber ones that is shaped like a human penis, a quite large one in fact.

I especially liked the way the glans at the end rubbed my cunt and clitoris. I leaned back on the couch and pushed it into myself. It felt absolutely delightful in my wet and swollen pussy. I wondered what Kevin would think if he had known how aroused I had gotten during his beating.

On my sofa, had my way with myself. My fantasy was that I was getting nailed right there on the couch by my now departed customer. It only took me a few minutes to have an intense orgasm, and I yelled as loudly as I wanted. Then I rested for a moment, and I did it twice more. I can be quite an orgasmic lady with the right stimuli.

As I relaxed I tried to remind myself never to develop an attachment to any john, no matter what good qualities he might seem to possess. That had rarely been an issue before that evening. Why was it different that time?

The spanking room was very quiet. I felt an expected emotion: loneliness. The previous summer I had broken up with my boyfriend, the one who had replaced Greg with the Triumph Stag. Greg in turn had replaced my first real lover (of only four months!) Paul.

For a second I considered calling Kevin in a couple of days. Hey, it's me, Nora, your friendly neighborhood dominatrix, only my real last name is Meara, not Kimmel. How about we meet for a few drinks. I was wondering how your sore backside is doing? Do you have to sit on a pillow now?

I tried to convince myself that it was all a fantasy; I never dated customers, except for Paul back in 1974. Perhaps he was the exception who had proved the rule. However, I thought that Kevin wouldn't mind much if I called him in a few days and made a play for him.

But Gilda: she's be shitting bricks if she found out I was having affairs with clients. But how would she know? Those guys wouldn't drop a dime on me, would they?

The big room I was in bothered me. A little while ago it was echoing with the sound of leather striking bare male hindquarters. Now I couldn't abide the silence in that place, so I quickly got dressed and put the tawse back in the closet. My panties were so damp that I just stuffed them into my purse.

I wondered if in the future I should play some kind of music over the sound system during sessions. I certainly had a large selection of albums at home to chose form. Probably I would have to ask the clients before hand what, if anything, they wished to hear. It was a bit difficult to imagine what they would pick, but I supposed some would have suggestions about what they would like.

Once I had reveled in being a mean, self-righteous bitch before, during, and after my domination of a guy. Now some kind of sadness took hold of me.

Maybe I didn't have the right stuff for it anymore, maybe I had changed and I couldn't maintain that old emotional control. But that would be a sign of maturity, would it not? But man, that was only my first assignment, and already I felt like I was falling apart.

It was only a little after 8:00 PM, but I had no desire to take the subway and then the bus back to Maspeth. In the old days, I would have cash from the client in my purse, but as a pro I was paid separately. I already knew that, so I had money with me for a taxi.

Kevin had walked out just when I really needed a good solid fucking. I might have even gone for dinner and drinks with him afterwards if I had been invited. But what would we have talked about? That old sense of shame from two years earlier was coming back.

In any case, it sure is hard to flirt with a guy when you are whacking his ass with a belt.

Just before I turned the lights out and went up the stairs, I looked back at my new workplace. I should call this room The Spank-o-torium. That seemed pretty funny and it lightened my mood a bit. But that nickname, like my reaction to Kevin, was not something I could tell Gilda about.

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Nora's description of her experiences in 1973-74 is in Freshman Hooker.