Under his Mistress' Hand Ch. 07

This story is a 40,000 word novella which runs to 16 chapters. It starts as a slow burn but goes on to explore the journey of a novice as he discovers the joys of loving Femdom. I wrote it as a gift for my real life sub, David, and we hope you enjoy it.

If Femdom is not for you, then please do not continue reading. However, if you like the idea of a powerful woman controlling every aspect of a helpless sub's pleasure, then please read on.

David watched in silence as his angry Mistress slid her panties back on and slipped into a long, silk kimono that was draped over the back of the chair. With the kimono loosely belted, the whole expanse of her legs and the inner curve of her breasts and the shadowy cleave between was revealed.

'Stand up and come with me, you worthless worm!' Kate snarled, tugging him to his feet by his ear. 'I should throw you out of my home right now. Howdare you lie to me?'

David clambered to his feet, feeling every inch the naughty little boy who'd been caught out. 'Forgive me, Mistress! I tried not to stop, but my arm got cramp! I'm sorry!'

Kate was furious! He'd stopped pleasuring her with her new toy, and for what? Just because his arm was tired?

'You little cry baby! Did your widdle arm hurt? I don't think you really understand what pain is, but I will endeavour to educate you right now!'

She dragged him by his throbbing lobe, stumbling across the floor to the balcony door. Switching off the lights on her way past, the only illumination now came from outside the darkened apartment.

Opening the glass door, she pushed him, naked and shivering, onto the open balcony overlooking the Thames. Immediately, David turned, trying to return to the relative safety of the apartment, but Kate was blocking his way.

'Oh no you don't! Turn around and approach the railing, grasping it in both hands.'

David was becoming more used to being naked in his Mistress' presence - he wouldn't go so far as to say 'comfortable' - but this was a whole other thing. He'd never been naked in public before, well, not since he'd gone skinny dipping in the creek as a young child. In fact, surely it was illegal! He could get arrested for indecent exposure!

'Yellow! Mistress, please... Yellow!'

'You wish to stop, slave? Are you worried about your modesty? This balcony is not overlooked and is deeply shadowed. It's unlikely that the patrons at the pub will see you, even if they do look in this direction.'

David looked around and saw that she was right. The darkness of the evening had cast the small balcony in dark shadow and, with the lights off behind them, he probably wasn't very visible at all, despite how pale, white, and vulnerable he felt in the chill of the evening. This gave him a small measure of comfort. Maybe he'd get through his without ending up with a criminal record!

However, her next words stripped him of even that small solace.

'I can't say the same for the pleasure cruisers on the river, boy, but,' she shrugged, cruelly, 'if they witness a disobedient slave getting his just desserts, then I'm sure they will be happy to know that justice has been served. After all, they are passing Execution Dock and they expect that the wicked will be punished without mercy.'

David weighed up his options. He could safeword. All he had to do was sayTecumseh and he could go inside and forgo this humiliating punishment. But no, that would mean everything would stop. He'd have to put his clothes back on and leave. No, he could and would handle whatever his Mistress could throw at him. He was no stranger to pain. He'd just bite the proverbial bullet and take it, impressing her with his endurance.

'I'm ready, Mistress. I apologise for my deceit, and I am ready to bear the consequences.' David took a deep breath to firm his resolve, and, rather like the condemned pirates of old, walked out onto the balcony, facing the dark cold water to receive his punishment.

Grasping the cold, red metal railing as he'd been instructed, he struggled to calm his breathing as he focussed on the lights reflecting off the water. He was very aware of life going on around him. The sound of music from the nearby pub was punctuated by raucous laughter; the river cruises hosting parties and events travelled slowly past and, beneath it all was the lapping of the Thames against its stony bank and the eerie creaking of the noose hanging from the replica gibbet outsideThe Prospect of Whitby.

'I'm glad to hear that you have accepted responsibility for your actions and are ready to pay with your flesh. Now assume the position so I can leather your worthless hide until you cry for mercy. Then, and only then, will I consider you have learned your lesson.'

The hell he'd cry!

She could blister his butt, flaying every inch of his skin, but he would not shed a tear or beg for mercy. While he wanted to please his Mistress, David admitted that he had a terribly rebellious side. He'd always chafed under authority, and it was like she'd thrown down the gauntlet. Now she'd said he had to cry for her there was no way that was going to happen. He would endure anything rather than break and use his safe word.

David fisted the railing and stepped back, bending at the waist to present his butt for her punishment.

'Spread your legs, slave.' David shuffled his feel apart.

'Wider! How else will your ripe, swinging bollocks get their fair share?'

David's mouth went dry. Way to notch up his vulnerability! And the pain of having his sensitive nuts cropped would take his endurance to the next level. He only hoped he could stay strong and prove to her that he could not be broken.

'On your toes now. Arch your back and offer yourself up to my belt. Show me that you accept your need for punishment and wish to make proper amends.'

Biting back a retort, David forced himself into the required position, feeling the wind whip around his chilled skin, sending goose pimples racing over every inch of exposed flesh.

'Oh, and of course,' she laughed playfully, 'I hardly need to tell you that you must bear this silently. We can't have my neighbours or the patrons of the pub calling the police, thinking that someone is being murdered, now, can we?' She chuckled, as if this were too preposterous a notion to consider.

She continued, 'I often bring my rugs out here of an evening for a good beating, so the sound of my leather belt leaving its mark on your hide won't raise any eyebrows. But screaming will be a little harder to explain. So, you may cry, moan, and beg quietly, boy, if you are able. And if not, I will not hesitate to gag you. I have a nice thick cock gag that would do the job really effectively.'

She took his chin in her hand and stared into his eyes, 'What do you think, boy? Would you like me to fetch my gag?'

'No Mistress. I will not need to be gagged to endure quietly,' he responded, somewhat mutinously.

Oh, Kate was going to enjoy this! She knew that he was no natural submissive and imagined that his upbringing in the machismo of 1960s Texas probably played into this attitude. Well, she mused, he would learn, and she would take great pleasure in imparting the lesson!

'So be it. Kiss the instrument of your punishment and ask me nicely for your beating,' Kate demanded as she brought her wide brown leather belt to his lips.

Up close, the belt looked even more intimidating than it had when it was encircling her tiny waist. It was a good eighth of an inch thick of seasoned leather. In fact, it was more akin to the rodeo belts he'd seen. Dear God, that was going to impart some sting!

Dropping a soft kiss on the well-worn leather, David steeled himself to ask for what he dreaded.

'Please, Mistress, would you be so generous as to beat this worthless slave to teach him the lesson he needs to learn?' He hoped that debasing himself in this way would please her and might possibly mitigate some of her anger before she started to wield that instrument of torture anywhere near his defenceless balls.

'It will be my pleasure, slave,' she smirked, then grabbed a handful of hair and forced his head up for a cruel kiss that left him breathless and shell-shocked.

The feeling of disorientation only lasted for a second before the first powerful stroke caught him just under the shelf of his ass and nearly lifted him off his feet! It was all he could do to choke down the cry of shock it invoked and, moments later as his brain registered the deep, stinging burn, he had to strangle a secondary moan of pain.

Christ! Not only was the leather heavy enough to leave a thick red welt which he could feel swelling already, he felt sure that it would leave bruises tomorrow. Plus, the strapping was taking place over her previous claiming marks, each new stroke reigniting the crop welts' itchy sting. This really was going to test his resolve.

Kate was impressed. She hadn't held back on that first stroke, hoping to break him quickly. While she wanted to leave a lasting impression, it was not her plan to truly harm him, and she knew that the humiliation of this naked, public shaming would add to the impact of the blows themselves. She had hoped that within a dozen strokes she could get the result she wanted -- a penitent, crying slave who knew that he had been truly mastered. Okay then. No mercy with this one.

Kate raised her arm high and delivered another powerfulwhack; the sound echoing off the warehouse walls and reverberating in the still night air. Still not one sound came from her obstinate sub. She knew, however, how much it was costing him to keep silent as every muscle in his body was tight as a coiled spring and, despite the chill breeze, he had broken out into a light sheen of sweat.

Picking up her pace, Kate delivered the next ten strokes without mercy, keeping about four seconds between them to ensure he would feel the full extent of the pain -- the harsh sting followed by the aching burn - before receiving his next blistering lash.

After the dozen full-strength blows, Kate was panting. She was getting a very thorough upper body workout and still she had failed to break her slave. The flesh of his rear had gone from a chilly white, to a deep flushing pink and now was a mottled cherry red, and still not a sound had passed his lips.

Time to end this, she thought as she shifted position behind him. This time, instead of connecting with both sides of his muscular rear with each stroke, evenly distributing the pain, now she concentrated solely on his left cheek -- positioning the lash around the buttock and allowing the tip of her belt, the part travelling at the highest velocity, to impact where it may. In this case, it was along his inner arse cheeks and lower, to kiss his overripe plums as she took her time, methodically working her way down the cheek to the top of his thigh.

David was in hell. He'd managed to get into the right headspace for the previous dozen and he'd felt that he was on top of this. A large part of his resilience was down to Zen and a meditational focus which he had learned many years ago for managing chronic pain. The constant cracks of the lash had helped to pull him into the zone and detach him from the fiery pain. However, now she had changed her tactics, it was playing havoc with his inner calm. Each time the wicked tip of the belt connected with his previously untouched inner ass flesh, or worse, his tender nuts, he was no longer able to remove himself from the pain.

But what was even more torturous was the pleasure that was taking over. While he knew he could survive, David had no idea how he could be thriving under such a severe beating. Even as his low hanging fruit were whipped with the thick leather belt, his shaft, which had softened due to the cold and dread of the situation, had now risen to full mast, and was slowly oozing clear, thin precum, which splashed to the balcony floor with every scorching stoke.

Kate switched to the other side for one last-ditch attempt to break her intractable sub. While it frustrated the hell out of her that he was holding out on her, refusing to give in to her demands, another part of her was deeply impressed. My God, he had balls. Balls, which were this minute swelling under her lash. Never had she had a sub who could withstand a severe beating such as the one she was currently meting out without so much as a whimper. If this was a battle of wills then she had to admit she was losing.

Last chance then. Her final three whacks were the hardest yet, and Kate couldn't help letting out involuntary grunts of effort, like Maria Sharapova in the Wimbledon women's singles. With the last grand slam, it was game, set and match. Kate was finished. She had no desire to hurt her beautiful, brave boy any further.