The Enigma of Mavis

Paul stepped directly behind me. I felt my dress move, and then his hands, as he slid it up over my butt. He had to lean down into me and reach around to pull up the front, which was mashed against his table. But he seemed to do this easily, as if he'd had a lot of practice to get it right. My dress was completely pulled up over my waist in a matter of seconds. He used some soft fabric tape to tape the side down onto the table and keep it from falling back down.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt his hands on my body next. His fingers were actually against my skin as he hooked them into my panties, and...

...Pulled them down! I was being stripped! I hadn't felt the intimate touch of another man since I got married. It had been so long, and it felt so strange. He did this very slowly. I wondered if it was for my benefit, or his. Or, maybe it was for Mavis' benefit. I did know I felt good about making the right choice of undergarment. It was a newer pair of lacy pink panties. I'd had a feeling I might want to put my best bottom forward today.

The pace was agonizing. I had no idea panties could be pulled down so slowly. After getting the back down a little, Paul had to lean into me again to reach around and pull the front down as I was pressed into the table. This took a little work, of course. It was not unlike the feeling of my husband pressing into me before fucking me from behind. I really felt the full impact of Paul, too. The full erect impact that is, as he pressed into my butt. He wasn't even trying to hide it!

As Paul got my panties clear of the table, he pushed off me and squatted behind me. I had a mental picture of his face level with my ass as he gently worked my panties down around my thighs, and then all the way down to my ankles. I didn't hear any rustling after that. He just seemed to stay there, hunched down on his feet, his face inches from my bare bottom.

My mind wandered. I wondered what he thought. Was he studying me, looking for something? Could he actually be admiring me? How could that even be possible? I had the very ample derriere of a middle-aged woman. Sure, I worked out, so hopefully it was toned to some degree. But I also liked my baked goods, and middle age does something to all our asses. So it was most certainly not the petite ass of a college freshman that Paul was regarding back there. And just how often did Paul do this? How many women's butts had he examined in this way? I got the feeling that he was well experienced at this sort of thing. From the way he spoke and conducted himself, and the way this room was laid out, doling out punishments seemed like something he'd been doing long enough to get really good at. Had he done his 10,000 hours? Could that even be possible?

And he and Mavis seemed to have some sort of arrangement as well. She certainly seemed to feel at home here. What was that all about? God, how I would have loved to offer some tidbits about this to the girls at the next gathering, and let the gossip develop from there. But that is what got me in this position in the first place, more or less. And what a position it was.

I finally heard the rustling and felt Paul rise up. He stepped around to my left.

"Okay, Donna. You're all in position, so we're going to start now. Just remember to keep your grip on the other end of the table there. It should help you get through this. Can you remember your password for me?"

"Red, Sir."

"Very good. Now keep in mind, you can use it at any time, but if you do, we come to a complete stop. Oh, it's okay to scream or cry out as much as you want. This room is at the back of the house, and the walls are well insulated."

"Wait, what do you mean by --?"

I could just make out the blur of his arm swinging down as I was midway through my question, when...

SMACK!

"Oww!"

I'd just been spanked. Even though we'd been building up to this ever since I entered this room, I'd never felt a hand strike my bare butt before. It stung!

"There, see? No problem crying out. Do that as much as you need to. Ok, here comes number two of ten."

I had to endure ten of these...?

SMACK!

"Oww! Fuck!"

"You might want to count them out."

"Count them out, Sir?"

"It makes it seem like it's going faster, believe it or not. Also, you really should be thanking me after each spank."

"I...I should be thanking you?"

What kind of twisted reasoning was this? I was bent over this strange man's table with my panties around my ankles being spanked, and I was supposed to thank him?

"Remember, Donna, I am doing this for your benefit."

Right, my benefit. I actually wanted this. It was the only ticket back to my life, and I had elected to go through with it. He had me there.

"Also, I would refrain from cursing if I were you. I don't appreciate it in my house, and I will add an extra spanking for every bad word that I hear. But we'll just consider that first one a momentary slip of the tongue, and I'll let you off with a warning for it."

"No cursing. Ok, Sir, I'll do my best. Um...Thank you, Sir, for my first two spankings."

"You're very welcome, Donna. Now..."

SMACK!

"Owww! Three. Thank you for my third spanking, Sir."

SMACK!

"Owww! Thank you for my fourth spanking, Sir."

SMACK!

"Owww-wwwwww! Thank you for my fifth spanking, Sir."

Was it my imagination, or were the spankings getting worse? Was he hitting me harder with each spank?

SMACK!

"Owww-wwwwww! Thank you for my sixth spanking, Sir."

Yep, not my imagination. Paul really was striking me harder with every spank. Oh boy, as if this weren't enough of an ordeal.

SMACK!

"Owww-wwwwww! Thank you for my seventh spanking, Sir."

SMACK!

"Owww-wwwwww! Thank you for my eighth spanking, Sir."

SMACK!

"Owww-wwwwww! Thank you for my ninth spanking, Sir."

And finally, dear God, finally...

SMACK!

"Owwwwwwwwww! Th...th..."

That did it. I couldn't even get the words out before I burst into tears. I was an instant sobbing mess bent over that table. Somehow, I had the presence of mind to keep my hands stretched across, gripping the other side of the table while I let it all out. And let it all out I did. I cried and cried and cried. I wasn't sure if it was more from the pain or the humiliation. Probably both. As my waterworks flowed, I heard Paul move back and sit on the couch. Now he and Mavis were watching me cry with a perfect view of my now-throbbing butt. Yep, it was the humiliation all right. Although, those spanks really did hurt.

Luckily, nothing lasts forever. As I started to get some control of myself back, and the crying was petering out, I felt a hand brushing my hair off my forehead. It was so gentle. Then a tissue was put in front of me. I looked up, and it was Paul. I hadn't even heard him get off the couch. He put the tissue up against my nose, and held the back of my head to keep me centered. I blew into it. We did this with three more tissues until I'd got the snot out. Then he used another one to wipe the tears off my face. I'd gone from feeling so small and humiliated to feeling genuine affection for these small acts of kindness.

"Thank you, Sir. And, thank you for my tenth spanking."

"You're welcome, Donna."

"I'm...I'm sorry about all this crying."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You've done very well for your first time. But I'm not sure we're through here yet. Mavis?"

There was a pause, like a great vacuum of silence had sucked the air out of the room. I imagine Mavis was pondering the question of the strap. Then the pondering was over.

"The strap please, Paul."

"As you wish."

Paul lowered his gaze back to look me in the eye.

"The strap is much harder than my hand. It's going to hurt more. But you'll probably find that it helps to have been warmed up by a spanking. We'll do ten, and then we're all through. Remember to keep your count and thank me."

"Okay, Sir."

"Don't worry. You'll get through this."

Then he was gone. He picked up the strap, and now stood behind me, where I couldn't see him. I held my breath for some reason, as I waited for...

THWACK!

"Owww! Thank you for that first, uh...strapping, Sir."

"We refer to it as whipping, Donna, but I'll count that."

That felt so different. Leather vs. flesh. It actually felt softer than his hand for some reason, but it stung so much more. The strike was smaller, more targeted, more vicious. The sound was so different too. There was something so distinctive about the sound of leather on flesh. Even though I'd never heard it before, it felt so familiar. But I didn't know if I be able to make it through ten of these...

THWACK!

"Owww! Thank you for my second whipping, Sir."

Oh God, that hurt so much more than the first. He could really get some traction with that strap! This was going to be hard.

THWACK!

"Owwwwwwww...Fuck! I...I mean, thank you for my third whipping, Sir."

"Donna, we talked about language."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just...the strap is so much more intense."

"Well of course, that's the way it's designed to be. If this is too much, you can always use your safeword."

I thought about that for a quick minute. All I had to do was say the word "red", and this was all over. I could pull up my panties, push down my dress, and be on my way, free as a bird. But what would I have to show for it? I'd still be ostracized from my social circle. And, I was already in so deep here. I was really more than halfway done with this whole sordid enterprise. I had time invested in it now. Even if I could talk Mavis & Paul into giving me a second chance, I was sure it would mean starting all over again from scratch. Another 10 spankings and 10 whippings. And maybe the consequences would be even worse for having to start again. No, the only choice that made any sense was to see it through to the end. But how to do it without my mouth betraying me...?

"I'm not going to use my safeword, Sir. I need to see this through. But the strap stings so much. I just don't know how to take it without cursing out loud."

"I think I may have a solution, Donna."

Paul went to his cabinet, came back, and put a strange object down on the table in front of my face. It was a red ball with leather straps on either side.

"This is a ball-gag, Donna. The ball goes in your mouth, and it's then strapped around your head. It's made of a soft silicone, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable. You can scream anything you want with this in your mouth, and it'll just come out as muffled and incoherent at best. Does this seem like a viable solution to you?"

I was going to be gagged with a red ball? This day was just getting weirder and weirder. I really should have read that 50 Shades book. It might have prepared me for things like...ball-gags. Oh well, may as well just go with the weird...

"Ok, Sir."

"Good. Of course, you'll still have to recite the count and thank me for the strikes afterwards. I'll just put this in for you then..."

Paul gripped the back of my head to hold me steady and pushed the red ball against my mouth. I opened up to accommodate it. I had to open wide, wider than I would have expected. As Paul got it into place and strapped it nice and tight, he continued to talk. This thing felt even weirder than I had expected it to.

"It'll seem uncomfortable at first, but don't worry. I've never met a woman yet who didn't get used to the ball-gag."

Wait, what? Never met a "woman" who couldn't get used to these things? What was that supposed to mean? Ok, maybe I had...

THWACK!

"Mmph! Fuuuuummmphhhhh!"

Yep, that took care of any verbalizing from me, all right. God forbid my husband ever discovered these things. I felt myself yelling "fuck" into that gag, but all that came out was something muffled and unintelligible. I guess this was going to work. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after...

THWACK!

"Mmmmmmmph! Fummmphhhhh Hemmmmmph!"

Oh, man! That whack was even harder. I hadn't realized how hard I was going to chomp down on that gag when it hit. Luckily, it seemed designed just for this sort of thing. I might have bit through my tongue without it.

THWACK!

"Mmph! Mmph! Mmmmphhhhh!"

Ok, at least I didn't swear with that one, even though I'm the only one who could tell. But that was progress.

THWACK!

"Mmph! Fumph! Fumph! Fumph!"""

Whelp, back to the swearing, and big time.

THWACK!

"Mmph! Fuuuuummmphhhhh!"

THWACK!

"Mmph! Fuuuuummmphhhhh!"

This was getting unbearable. Every strike was harder than the last one. What kind of shape was my poor butt in? I swear I could feel the shade of red that it must be now. It felt like it was burning back there. Please, please let this be over soon.

THWACK!

"Mmph! Fuuuuummmphhhhh!"

And....

...Nothing. Paul had been keeping up a rhythm of sorts, so the next one should have happened. But it didn't. Was that it? I thought we were only up to nine, but perhaps I'd lost my count. It would certainly be understandable under these difficult conditions. Maybe it was finally over. I felt myself relaxing, exhaling a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding. Maybe I could finally...

THWACK!

"Mmmmmmmphhhhhhhhh! Fumphhhhh!"

Okay, THAT was the last one. I was sure of it. It had to be. Oh God, I couldn't take anymore. I truly couldn't. It hurt so much. My ass was on fire. And the way it made me feel, knowing that there was this new side to me that I'd never even known existed, that someone could get me to bend over a desk and bare my derriere for punishment...And I would do it! Please, please, please let it be over. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I was even crying again.

And then, thankfully, it was confirmed for me. That was the last strike of the strap. Paul laid it down in front of my face. I looked up at him. He was gazing down at me. Time seemed to stop. And then, I felt something...I felt...his hand! He was touching my butt, running his fingers over it, then squeezing, caressing. He kept this up while looking down at me, maintaining eye contact. Our eyes were locked as he gently fondled my ass. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. Of course, I was being violated on some level. Spanking, whipping...that had all been agreed to. But touching...that had never been discussed. And yet, here he was, and here I was.

On some level, it felt like a dream. After the intense humiliation and pain of being spanked and whipped, this felt so calming. I felt there was on one else in the world except for Paul and myself. I was barely even aware of this ball-gag. And I was totally unaware of Mavis back on the couch. In truth, I'd forgotten about her ages ago when the whipping took up all my bandwidth. Yet, I knew she was still there without having to look back. She'd always been back there, so quiet, just watching...

Paul finally broke the reverie as he spoke to me, in soothing tones. He caressed my cheek while he spoke.

"You did well, Donna, so very well. You got through this."

I suddenly felt so proud, as if I'd wanted nothing more than to please him, and accomplished it. He was still fondling my ass as he talked to me. Then he unstrapped the ball-gag and pulled it out of my mouth.

"Now, do you have anything you'd like to say to me?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you for my fourth whipping. And thank you for my fifth whipping. Thank you for my sixth whipping. Thank you for my seventh whipping. Thank you for my eighth whipping. Thank you for my ninth whipping. And, Thank you so much for my tenth whipping. Also, I apologize for any swearing I may have done in your home. Please forgive me."

Paul caressed my cheek tenderly, to show I'd done well. I was so pleased. Then he pushed the ball-gag back into my mouth. I thought we were done with that, but I opened to accept it. He talked as he strapped it back in.

"I'm sure your ass is very sore back there. It's a lovely shade of red. You've got some welts that will heal in a few days to a week, and some bruising that you'll really feel later. I wouldn't let your husband get too good a look back there for at least a week. I'm going to rub some lotion in there to ease the sting, and facilitate healing. You can take the bottle. But for now, I'm going over there to the couch for a bit. Mavis and I are going to admire the state of your ass after punishment, in silent contemplation. Just keep your position here, and let yourself really feel the burn. It's going to intensify with nothing else to occupy your attention. Let yourself float down into it. Then I'll apply the lotion, de-gag you, and the two of you will be off."

So that's what he did. It suddenly got very quiet again with Paul & Mavis back there on the couch, just staring at me. I suddenly got very anxious. Two people were staring at my reddened butt, studying it, dissecting it, noticing every little imperfection. Middle-aged women's butts weren't made for this sort of scrutiny. But then, I somehow overcame that, and actually started to feel some pride in myself. Yeah, they were staring at my butt! And if it was good enough for them...

Then the intensity of the burn started to really ramp up. It had always been there, but in the quiet of the room I really started to feel it more. Soon, it was all I could think about. It was hot, and it was painful, but...I sort of liked it too, I think.

True to his word, I heard Paul eventually got up. He rubbed lotion on my butt lovingly. Then he pulled my panties up and my dress down, pulled the gag out of my mouth, and helped me up. He steadied me while I got used to standing up again. I was a bit stiff after being bent over that table. He also gave me a bottled water to hydrate with.

As I was getting up from that table, I was able to turn a bit, and get a look at Mavis. She was still there on the couch, sitting in the exact same position she'd been in since we arrived. It didn't look like she'd moved a muscle. Truthfully, I'd kind of forgotten about her during my ordeal. Which is strange, considering I was only here because of her. This was all about Mavis, and yet...during my time on that table, my world had reduced itself to just Paul and I. I think I even forgot what I was doing here in the first place. I just knew this punishment thing was something I had to get through.

What was Mavis' deal? What did she get out of this? I didn't see any sign of emotion on her impassive face, and she was completely silent unless Paul addressed her. Was this something sexual for her? Was she just a sadist? Or did this fit some skewed sense of right and wrong in her very strange brain? And how often did events like this occur? Mavis and Paul seemed very familiar with each other. I detected the shorthand of old friends. Did she often bring people here to be punished? Was it for her benefit, or Paul's? Both? And were they all women? Was Mavis really a closet lesbian? Or a sadist? Or both, or something more than that? I just had no clue. There was nothing to read on her. Whatever floated around inside her head, would not be given up easily.

Once everyone could see I was recovered and ready, Paul motioned to her, and she stood up. My mind was still swimming with all these questions about Mavis as Paul guided us back through the living room to the front door. The Woman in the house (his wife?) glanced up at us while she watered some plants. Out on the porch, Mavis turned to graciously thank Paul for taking the time to fit us into his schedule. The two of them hugged, the door closed, and we were on the road back to Silverlake in Mavis' car.

The drive was quiet. I hadn't the faintest idea how to start a conversation about this, and Mavis didn't have the slightest interest. Not that it was tense or anything. Mavis seemed at peace with herself, near as I could tell. There was a glow to her. It seemed like everything was lighter to her, as if a weight had been lifted. She even hummed a little to herself here and there. It was the humming of someone who was contented.