His Lordship raised his arm and let the tawse fall with a terrific splat that conferred an immediate sting and then a slow, deep blaze that made me suck in the air around me. It was going to be hard to take this, very hard.
‘You count the strokes when I chastise you,’ His Lordship explained. ‘And at the end of the session, you thank me for taking the trouble to administer discipline. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ My voice was weak already and he’d only laid one stroke.
I remembered to keep the count, mostly. At seven I had to take a really long breath before I was able to speak. At 11, I begged him to stop, but I didn’t safeword, and only numbered the stroke when he suggested repeating it.
At 15, I forgot, and then he did repeat the stroke.
At 16, I could feel the sob coming.
At 18, it came.
At 20, I was crying, but it was a weird kind of crying, a sort of cathartic triumph, a falling away of tension while my body floated in fire. His Lordship had whipped the grouchiness of the day out of me and I felt purified by the pain, new and clean and ready for submission.
‘Have you forgotten something?’ he asked, his voice gentle. He crouched beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.
Had I? I couldn’t for the life of me think what it might be. In fact, I couldn’t think at all. Nothing existed in my life except my throbbing bottom and my need to be praised and petted by this man, because I had pleased him. Oh! That was it.
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said.
‘No, Bottom, you must look at me when you say it, and you must be clearer about exactly what you’re thanking me for. Try that again.’
I had to work up to looking him in the eyes. The words wouldn’t be easy, but the steadfast gaze was a cruel thing to demand. I had a feeling I might need a lot of training for that.
I twisted my neck and let my eyes glaze a bit, softening the effect of his piercing look.
‘Thank you for teaching me my lesson, sir,’ I said. ‘I will try to behave myself better.’
‘That’s a start,’ he sniffed, chucking me under the chin. ‘We’ll work on a more eloquent rendering next time punishment is required.’
He stroked my bottom with one hand, making the most of its heat.
‘I didn’t go easy on you,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling you could take quite a good thrashing, from what I’ve seen of you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said, though it was one of the more bizarre compliments of my life. Perhaps I should add it to my CV. Grade Eight piano, Cycling Instructor Qualification, takes a good thrashing.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Cleansed. And hot. And sore. And a bit … y’know.’ I squirmed illustratively.
He chuckled.
‘But do you feel the need for closeness, reassurance? Many submissives do. They want to be held. Don’t you?’
‘May I answer honestly, sir?’
‘Of course. Always.’
‘I want to be fucked.’
He chuckled.
‘That’s the other common reaction. And you haven’t come in such a long time, have you? Hmm?’
‘No, sir, and I’ve been so tempted, so often, but I held off.’
‘Well, such obedience merits a reward, I think. I’m not completely heartless.’