Ruby Gets What She Needs

It was a crisp fall afternoon as I approached the three-story brick house. My hands were tucked into the pockets of my short wool coal against the chill, and I clutched the essentials in my pockets as I walked: phone, wallet, keys. My heart was racing, and my breath came in quick gasps that the wind whipped away.

I was dressed as he had told me he wanted: school-girl inspired without being crass or ridiculous. I had chosen brown leather oxfords, a pleated burgundy skirt, and a black long sleeve v-neck t-shirt. Matching black lingerie underneath. I normally would have worn a garter belt and stockings but it wasn't quite cold enough, and I liked to feel the crisp air against my legs and under my skirt.

I checked the address on my phone a final time before taking a deep breath and walking up the flight of stairs to the door. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I could still turn back. But I knew I wouldn't. This was what I wanted so badly; I wasn't afraid, just nervous.

I had been very clear in my personal ad: college girl seeks older, college professor type for hard caning. No sex. Not at first at least. Anyone could give me sex, and I most definitely needed something more right now. He had responded, and he was just what I needed. An attractive, successful, tenured history professor at a renowned university. With plenty of experience beating willing little girls.

I smoothed my bangs with one hand and then rang the doorbell. After a moment I heard footsteps quickly approaching. A quick click and he opened the door.

He was just like his pictures; just like I had wanted. Tall, late 40s, salt and pepper hair. Handsome and fit. Black leather dress shoes, charcoal slacks, pale blue button-up rolled up to his elbows.

"Hello. You must be Ruby." He didn't smile but his eyes were bright with excitement.

"Yes. Hi," I smiled and almost laughed with anxiety. But lord knows I didn't find this funny.

He smiled very slightly in return. "Please come in".

He stepped aside and I slipped past him into the hall. The house was beautiful and old: I was standing in a hallway, ornate staircase to my left, closed doors all the way down. I think the back opened into the kitchen. Dark wood paneling. Tall ceilings. My body shivered with excitement.

"May I take your coat?" he asked. His hands were already on my shoulders.

"Oh! Yes, please." The simple touch was making my heart pound all over again.

He slipped the coat off my shoulders and hung it on the rack by the door.

"Second door on the right," he instructed with a slight touch on the small of my back. Without saying anything I obeyed; the door was closed but the knob turned easily in my hand. I walked into what must have been his office or study. Every wall was floor to ceiling bookshelves, a huge mahogany desk under the window and a large leather sofa opposite. He was every bit the respectable college professor I was looking for.

He followed me in and shut the door behind me. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to sit, so I stood in the room awkwardly, my hands playing anxiously with the hem of my skirt.

He easily strolled past me to lean against the desk. Damn, he smelled good too. He took me in for a minute, and I imagined what he must see: 21-year-old college girl, medium height, brown hair past my shoulders, large breasts for my frame, slender but curvy. I hoped he liked what he saw.

"So, Ruby, why don't you tell me why you came here today?"

I felt myself grow hot. "I...ah...I want to...I want to be caned, please."

He smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"And is that how you'd like to refer to me?"

I felt hotter, I must be bright red by now. "Ah...no. No, Sir."

"Oh, that's better." He lifted one leg so that he was now sitting on the desk, one leg on the floor, the other spread out. "So, Ruby, why do you want to be caned?"

"Because...I like the way it makes me feel, Sir."

"And how does it make you feel?"

"Happy. Calm. Cleansed." I paused. "Sore."

"You're not looking to me punished, are you."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "No. I want this because I like it."

He chuckled. "Silly little pain slut, aren't you."

I swallowed but didn't respond. I felt like I could feel everything in the room. And I was so aware of my body. The air against my skin, the cotton of my shirt, my feet on the floor. And the growing electricity in my pussy.

"Why don't you make me a drink, Ruby. Do you know how to make an old fashioned?" I nodded and he pointed to a bar by the desk that I hadn't noticed before. I could feel his eyes on me as I mixed the drink. I knew he was looking at every inch of me, watching my actions, thinking and judging. I was fully clothed but somehow I felt naked.

When I was done, I turned and handed him the drink. I didn't make eye contact.

He took a sip. "Good girl. Not bad for a little pain slut."

I felt my pussy clench at the words.

"Now, why don't you turn around and bend over the arm of the sofa. Put that cute little ass in the air for me." I didn't hesitate. I wanted this so badly my body ached. I did as he said, feet planted firmly, ass high in the air, face pressed into the leather. My hair fell and covered my face so I couldn't see anything but the seat in front of me.

For a long time the room was silent except for the clinking of ice as he sipped his drink. I could feel the air on my upper thighs but my skirt still covered my ass. I wanted to feel the sting so badly. My heart beat fast with anticipation.

After what felt like forever I heard him walk over to me. At first he just stood there. I could hear him breathing, smell his scent, feel the warmth of his body near mine. Then he touched me. I wasn't expecting it: he stroked my hair, traced his hand down my back to my waist, scratched his nails over my hips. He skipped my ass entirely, rubbing my thighs as he sipped his drink.

The whole room must've smelled of my arousal, I thought.

Then, he very slowly slipped his hand up my thigh and under my skirt. He gently pulled the skirt up around my waist, revealing my ass and my black lace thong. He let out a very soft moan. It was almost like a growl.

"Slutty little black panties..." he breathed. His hand rubbed slow, deliberate circles over my ass. "And such a white little ass!" He feigned surprise, and carefully slid my panties down to just above my knees. "Too bad it won't be that color an hour from now."

Moments later I felt the first smack on my ass. It was fairly hard but I didn't react; I've been spanked many times before. He would work in a pattern—rub, smack, rub, smack. What merely stung at first compounded and as he warmed me up I began to squirm, making small noises of discomfort. He pulled his hand back and spanked me as hard as he could. I unthinkingly let out a small cry and one of my feet jerked upwards. He caught my ankle in his hand and flung it back towards the floor.

"You can make as much noise as you want but you stay in this position and do not move an inch. Ass stays up, head stays down, feet stay on the floor. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I gasped.

"Good. I know you want this but I can still make it hell for you. Trust me."

With that I heard him walk away from me, setting the drink down and opening the drawer below the bar. He came back over to me and placed several items on the sofa in my range of vision. I quickly took them all in: flogger, paddle, cane. We had only discussed the cane, not the others, but before I could think too hardly on it I heard his belt coming undone.

No sex, I almost blurted out, though my body most certainly would have betrayed me at this point. But his intentions quickly became clear as I heard the sound of leather in the air milliseconds before the belt cracked on my tender ass.

I cried out, I couldn't help it. The belt had always been hard for me.

"Count for me. 10 strokes with the belt and then you can get what you want so badly."

The next was softer.

"One," I mumbled into the sofa. Sometimes you have to save your energy.

Two was much harder, and made me scream softly into the leather.

"Two, Sir!"

"Oh good. You figured out what you were missing. I'm happy to continue to belt you all afternoon if you address me improperly again."

"Yes, Sir."

The next few strokes came rapidly and I counted them as he desired: quickly, clearly, and respectfully. By number seven he was bored with my rapidly reddening ass and had moved on to my soft thighs. Both eight and nine made me scream.

"Ten, Sir!" I finally cried out. I wasn't crying but my face was red and hot and I could feel the heat radiating off my ass. My breath was ragged and my heart was racing.

"Your ass is a lovely shade, Ruby. One might say it's ruby red." He chuckled. "Tell me, do you still want what you came here for?"

"Yes, please, Sir..."

"Good girl." He reached over me and I saw the cane leave my field of vision. I felt the hard wood rub over my ass for a few moments. Then it was gone and it came down hard, right on the crease where my butt meets my thighs.

I couldn't help it. I screamed and jerked away. My hands went to protect my ass. I stood almost all the way up.

I immediately realized my mistake. Total silence in the room. I threw myself back over the arm, ass up, face down, feet on the floor.

"Well, Ruby, that wasn't good, was it?"

"No...no, Sir." My voice was stuck in my throat, so quiet.

"Do you remember what I said?"

"That I...couldn't move."

"And what did I say would happen if you moved?"

"You would...make this hell for me."

"Well at least you aren't totally stupid, are you?"

He walked away and fetched something else from the cabinet.

"Tell me, Ruby, do you like anal?"

"Ah, no, Sir."

"Well that's a pity. Open your mouth." I obeyed and immediately felt the distinctive shape of a butt plug enter my willing mouth. "May I put this in your disobedient ass anyway?"

I couldn't talk, my mouth was full. But slowly I nodded.

"I thought you'd agree to that." He took the plug out of my mouth and I heard some lube being applied. And then I felt the push against my ass.

I don't like anal. I've never liked anal. But I do like how deliciously violated I feel when I'm stuffed full.

It took him a while to get it in. It was a big plug and even though I tried to relax, the combination of my stinging cheeks and my dislike for anal made it hard. Finally I felt the base of the plug pushing against me. I groaned with discomfort.

"Good girl. Doesn't that feel nice?" I didn't respond and he chuckled. I felt his fingers brush ever so gently against my sopping pussy. "Don't bother to answer that. Your body's already told me the truth."

I groaned again but was quickly interrupted by three quick strokes with the cane. I screamed until my throat hurt, letting the leather stifle me. My muscles clenched around the plug, heightening my discomfort. My ass was on fire.

He caned me again and I was almost too exhausted to react, though it hurt like hell. I was reaching my love/hate relationship with pain: I wanted more, my body said no.

"More?" he asked, sensing my exhaustion.

I hesitated. "Yes." Immediately a stinging stroke across my thighs. I screamed again, my throat hurt almost as much as my butt.

Before I even stopped screaming he rained down two softer strokes on my very, very red ass. These I did not react to.

"Ruby, do you want another?"

Another, longer hesitation. "Yes, Sir."

"Pain slut!" he almost yelled and laid the hardest strike on me yet. My body thrashed on the sofa but my feet didn't leave the floor. I let out a loud sob and felt myself begin to tear up.

"Another?"

The longest hesitation of all. "No. Thank you, Sir."

His fingers brushed against my pussy again. "Are you sure you don't want me to fuck you?"

I thought about it. I was soaking wet, and he could feel it. He teased my clit with one hand and rubbed the already-forming welts on my ass with the other. I wanted him. But I had to stick to my own rules.

"Maybe...maybe next time, Sir."

He laughed. "Alright, little pain slut." He smacked my ass once more with his hand and I squealed. He eased the plug out of my ass. "Stand up. There's a mirror in the hall, why don't you go look at your ass?"

I stood up slowly; my head had been down for so long and it took me a moment to readjust. Without pulling my panties up I opened the door and went into the hall, staring as my red, welted ass in the full-length mirror.

He came out of the room behind me and leaned on the doorframe. I was smiling to myself over my shoulder, and he watched me admiring my very abused ass.

"Maybe next time I'll be fucking you while you stare at yourself in that mirror."

I turned and shot him a teasing look. "Maybe," I said with a little smile.

He laughed too. "Come sit on the sofa. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please, Sir."

"What kind?"

"Anything but chamomile."

He disappeared down the hall to the kitchen while I pulled my panties up and settled gingerly into the sofa. There was a throw blanket on the back which I pulled around myself. I always get cold after a scene.

He reemerged a few minutes later with two mugs. As we sipped our tea, he let me lean against him. I could feel his cock hard in his pants.

I really did want him. Next time.

"Did you have fun?" I asked.

"Yes, little pain slut." He ran his hand absently up and down my back. "I very much enjoyed having you bent over for my abuse."

"Me too," I said with a smile, though he couldn't see it. "Me too."

"Ruby, I think you might need this kind of treatment once a week. What do you say?"
 "Yes, Sir," I agreed as I sipped my tea. "Once a week."