Sarah's Adventure Ch. 01

"Want to take a break or continue?"

Still sobbing a little bit, I wondered if she was really asking me. "Completely up to you, Ma'am. I'm ok," I replied between sobs, putting the smile back on as the tears stopped.

"Very well, stand up."

I stopped crying altogether then, and did as requested; standing with my hands clasped behind my head, chin up and she stood beside me. Her fingers touched my breasts with a light gentle touch. She moved her hands all over my big, beautiful breasts, and she must have liked the feel of them, because she took her time with them. Her fingers pressed and petted and stroked them, all the while enjoying how warm and resilient the skin was as she fondled them. She paid close attention to my nipples; she squeezed and pinched and rolled them between her fingers, eliciting little moans from me. As she did, they grew in size, getting longer and even harder than they already were, and my breath got shorter and shorter. In spite of myself, I began to respond to her ministrations. It was at that point that she removed her hands from me. When I dared look at her through eyes that registered my uncertainty, she spanked my left breast with the open palm of her right hand, quickly followed by a spank to my right breast. I cried out more in shock then pain. Ms. Lucy (after watching my tits dance from the force of the blows) looked me in the eyes and saw a look of surprise and -- betrayal? I looked down at my nipples and saw that they were even harder and bigger than before.

She smiled, delighted by my reaction.

She then bent me over at the waist once more, and started to spank my ass by hand. There was something even more intimate about that, when flesh meets flesh (something the ruler and the cane hadn't managed), and twice she slapped my ass. She could feel the skin yield and rebound, growing warmer with each ringing smack. At first, two red handprints marked the spots where she struck, standing out overtop the soft pink welts that were already there, branding me with her personal mark.

She paused then, and rubbed my ass cheeks 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, and I had a snappy comeback, a real zinger about the marks only being temporary, but I forgot all about it, and instead I replied, "Thank-you, Mistress."

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

My eyes had been heavy lidded and dreamy with the afterglow of the two first spankings, now they flew wide open with shock. The ruler had warmed me, the cane stung but felt oddly nice, but soon her hand would truly get me to bark, I was sure. 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 grasp, finally clap my hands over my bum, and head for the nearest exit. Instead, I clutched my knees tighter.

A sudden flurry of smacks drove any such rebellion out of my mind. "And for your earlier impudence," she said, hitting the same spot over and over, while my eyes scrunched shut with each slap. When I was sure I could take no more, she switched to my other cheek and repeated the attack. Then she slapped at my thighs to make me widen my stance, and without hesitation I opened my legs for her. I was determined not to cry out, merely take my punishment, but as the slaps grew harder and harder on my ass, my whine rose in pitch and volume and I was "oww, oww, owwing" each time her hand came down on my already heated ass.

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! On and on went the spanking. Her hand rose and fell, seemingly as tireless as a machine. She avoided getting into a rhythm and paced herself so as to make the spanking last. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Her hand, it wouldn't stop. Again and again it came down, no rhythm or pattern, nothing to brace against. SPANK! Sometimes they were delivered with a pause (SPANK!) between them, then she would deliver a series of them in rapid fire fashion. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! It was maddening. It also (SPANK!) after awhile, began to really hurt. At first the spanks were more humiliating but not very painful. I had been hit harder with the ruler and with the cane. Now though, (SPANK!) the spanks were starting to really hurt.

The pain was a little 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 had really poked the lion after all, and fully expected to get bit in return. I was more than just a little curious too; there was a need in me to find out if submitting to a spanking would pay any erotic dividends, or simply cure me of my unrealistic fantasies forever. It didn't take long to find out, and soon my buttocks were a uniform shade of scarlet, my ass raising high in the air for more.

She delivered a stinging slap to my right cheek and then she began to rub my asscheeks. Her hands moved all over my burning, flaming red bottom. She did this for just a moment then she spanked me again. Then she rubbed me again. SPANK! Rub. SPANK! Rub. SPANK! Rub. She kept this up, varying the length of time she rubbed my ass and the number and type of spanks she delivered, as before.

In time it had the desired effect.

"Is any of this turning you on?" she asked, not pausing in her slaps and rubs.

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. I wanted to tell her that yes, it was turning me on, but I stayed silent. I had indeed begun to feel something strange; it started deep down inside of me. At first it was a small sensation, but as she continued it began to grow, and it wasn't long before I recognized what the feelings were. I tried to fight them but they were too strong. I was indeed becoming sexually aroused, and sweat began to stream down my forehead as I tried to stop the onrush of emotions. I felt myself starting to let go. I clamped my mouth and bit my tongue, trying to keep from voicing my arousal., and began to shake all over with the effort.

Of course, Ms. Lucy saw this and grinned openly. Success was almost at hand. Just one more change of tactic.

She licked a finger, and it dipped down between my legs. She ran it back and forth between my slit while she spanked some more. "Well you're fucking wet, that's for sure." The finger went inside me while she continued to spank my ass with the other hand. Then she delivered a series of stinging slaps to my pussy, followed by some rubbing of my warm, wet, slit. She alternated back and forth, spanking and rubbing, spanking and rubbing, then her fingers slipped inside once more, curling inside me as they worked in and out. It was just too much! I began to cum. I cried out in a mighty yell of lust and pent up emotions. On and on I cried and moaned, even as Ms. Lucy resumed the ass spanking with her other hand as her fingers worked inside me.

My body shivered and shook, my hair flying everywhere as I tossed and shook my head. My ass gyrated and bucked and quivered, my asscheeks opening and closing rapidly. My heaving breasts rose and fell and shook and flopped all over. My face was a mask of pure lust, and I cared for nothing right now except the feelings coursing through my body. For two full minutes I came, and what a magnificent sight!

When I finally subsided and could see again, Ms. Lucy was still there. "What did I say, about asking for permission first?"

My mind was numb, and no words would come to my throat. That's twice now I had disobeyed the first rule.

"Now understand this," she said in a no-nonsense voice, "I'm going to spank you till you're raw. Up until now, you've gotten just a taste, and if anything, I think you liked it. What I'm going to do now is 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, wrapping it into a ponytail.

Very slowly, I nodded, feeling her grip as my head moves. Numbly, I was even aware that I had read some of those very words before, in one of those 'Beauty' books. 'Oh no,' I thought to myself almost absently then, 'now what was I getting myself into?' For those of you who haven't read the Beauty Trilogy, well she didn't get it easy her first day, and I had made it a point earlier to tell Ms. Lucy exactly how turned on I was by those very same words as I read them. 'Oh no'.

"Very good," my Mistress replied softly. "I'm glad we're on the same page," she continued, smacking me once more before standing me up. She turned me around 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. She had writhed an orgasm out of me without any consent, without any will to even fight, but still I wanted more. Up on the wood counter, I was now inside the book I had read, experiencing it all first-hand, and I can't lie, it was all surreal. A little magical even.

"Now listen further," my Mistress went on, word-for-word as I had read. "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 neither. Nor are you going to open your mouth either. But you will 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 and matter-of-fact about it. Of course it was exactly what this woman should do, I reflected. Why not? I had poked and then prodded and then fully disobeyed her after all, and she knew very well what I was doing; what I was asking her to do, without actually asking her to do it.

And of course, she'd demand that I twist and groan to display my understanding that I was being humbled. Why ever now? She as going to play out the scene exactly how it had in the book, whether for my own benefit or hers, I don't know. She wasn't going to tie me down for this, because Beauty hadn't been. Instead, she wanted to see how eager I was to make amends. She knew very well what this very scene had inspired in me, and I had told her exactly how it made me feel too. Well, it was time to put words into reality.

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 for her. After all, it was going to hurt, wasn't it? Beauty's Mistress hadn't gone easy on her, and I didn't expect the same. 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 a series of 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 tearless eyes on the open doorway, and lost as I was in the spanking sound of the paddle and the loud cries muffled by my sealed lips, I could not help but try to picture myself, wondering if my Mistress were pleased with it, whether it was enough.

I heard my own full-throated moaning in my ears. I felt tears finally 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 clothes and excuse myself. Would it do any good to declare my rights? Could I say the whole thing was unfair?

I don't know. Beauty had not done so, and I'd like to think I was made of stronger stuff than she. Finally 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 Ms. 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, drenching it with my own juices, 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. Gods!

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, but it went in without any protest.

"Don't resist me," she cautioned. "Your ass is mine as well." She wriggled her thumb inside me to emphasize the point, but there was no pain. All of that was on the outside of my ass.

I tried to relax as her fingers worked me, my ass red and raw, and felt myself riding towards orgasm again. "Permission to cum Mistress," I moaned. I had finally learned my lesson, and all it took was the paddle.

"Permission granted," she said, her thumb pressing into me a little 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 in my life. Twice now, this woman had made me cum, and with just her fingers. 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 to be the punctuation at the end of a sentence. For the first time, I was facing the fact that gratifying my fantasies was not her goal here, and after all, I should have known to expect some more. Beauty had gotten a little more than that, so why should I be spared any?

My ass was already blazing, and now 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 knew that my true chastisement would begin. "Very good," came the voice. "I'm glad you didn't think that was going to be it. Now turn over."

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

I didn't expect the paddle this time, already knowing what was in store, even as my Mistress spread me out on my back, drawing my hands over my head. She quickly tied them to the edge of the island, then told me to keep my legs spread or have them spread for me, and it was just like the scene in the book. We were playing the whole thing out in real life, right here and now. I didn't know if I should be afraid of excited. Maybe both?

"I know that you disobeyed deliberately earlier, 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. I've read all the same books as you have, and the next time you are tempted to misbehave," she promised, "you will remember this night."

Then just like in the book, as Beauty had done before me, I struggled to get my legs wide, and my body was being stretched to its full length as my ankles were now tied too, and I felt panic again, bouncing helplessly on the smooth, unyielding wood as I realized that I could not free myself. Panic set in for an instant, but more than a little bit of excitement soon took over, because this was what I had wanted after all, wasn't in? This was what I had fantasied about, sought after, and wanted for so many years?

In a flurry of soft urgent cries, I tried to plead with my Mistress, but they were token requests. I didn't mean a single word, and the moment I saw her smiling down at me, once more just as Mistress Lockey had done with Beauty, my voice died in my throat and I bit my lip hard, looking up into those clear, icy blue eyes that quivered ever so slightly with laughter. She said that she had read the same books as I, and seemed to know this one in particular by heart as I had. "I bet your boyfriend liked those breasts, didn't he?" Ms. Lucy asked, line for line out of the book. I was a full, round, youthful and perky 34C, so he did indeed! But I kept my mouth shut, any impudent remarks I might have thought of not quite forming.

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. Tied onto the counter, I could numbly remember the passages I had read, and 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 between my legs once they were played with. And the rougher they were pinched or twisted, well the wetter I got. "Mistress, please, I will never..." I said, playing the part.

"Shhhh!" Ms. Lucy clamped her hand over my mouth and I arched my back, whimpering against it. Oh, it was worse being bound; I could not make myself be still. But I stared at my Mistress 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.