Kinky

‘I’m going to punish you, Rosie. I’m going to use different things and see how long it takes for you to ask me to stop, OK?’

‘OK, sir.’

‘If you need a break, you tell me. If you can’t take no more, you tell me. Right?’

‘Right.’

He claps his hands together and rubs them, ready to get down to work. ‘First I use this leather, OK? I start easy.’

Despite this reassurance, I clench my fists and tense up. The first contact of strap on skin is a caress, however, and I soon relax into it, enjoying each little flick of warmth as it travels slowly across the full area of my rear.

‘Mmm.’ I give my verdict. ‘Feels nice. Really nice. Erotic.’

‘Oh yes? I go harder.’

He is as good as his word, putting a little more force behind each stroke so that they sizzle rather than tickle, the heat building with each little set of snaps.

I begin to wriggle, trying hard not to break my position, then he goes harder still and the strap cracks down, lines of solid heat burning the width of my bum.

I get to twelve, I think, then I plead for a break.

He rubs my spine while I gather my breath and my wits, moving his hand lower and lower until it caresses my hot bottom.

‘Looks good,’ he tells me. ‘You like it?’

‘Yeah. It hurts but I could take more. Just needed a break. Not ready to finish yet, unless you want to.’

‘OK, that is useful information. I use this for warm-up or for long erotic spanking. There is heavier thing in the cupboard, maybe that is for punishment.’

‘Maybe,’ I agree, distracted by the pooling of juices between my heated pussy lips. I think back to the demonstration we saw in the dungeon next door. Will Dimitri flog my pussy? I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. A simple fingering will suffice today. Perhaps now?

But he isn’t ready to oblige yet. My bottom must suffer on.

‘Shall we start again?’ He pats my recovering bum, still warm, but not particularly sore, though the skin feels tight and sensitive.

‘OK, sir.’

The worst part of this is the strain on my thigh and calf muscles, I think to myself. Then I change my tune.

Wood meets flesh in a bloodcurdling duet of pain and anguish.

‘OW!’ I yell in objection, leaping upright and clutching my backside.

Dimitri laughs and taps the paddle on to the site of its first assault. ‘That is a good one, eh? Hurts a lot?’

‘Yes, it bloody does.’

‘OK, I take it easier to start. Back down, please.’

I eye him suspiciously, but eventually resume my position, trusting him to do as he has promised.

He applies the paddle with a lighter hand. It still hurts, but it’s bearable for twenty moderate strokes. I settle into the sensation, enjoying the uncompromising crack of the swats as they bounce and echo off the prison-white walls. Occasionally, I have to shift from foot to foot or howl out loud, until I am shifting and howling almost perpetually and then he ups the ante again, dealing six solid shockers. After the sixth I beg for mercy and he stops again.

My bottom is throbbing, the heat searing way down below the skin. Sitting down will definitely need to be done with care.

‘That will bruise,’ he decides, pressing fingertips into my flesh so that I wince. ‘So I take it easier if client don’t want bruises.’

‘I love your … scientific approach … to this,’ I pant, rational thought being far from my own mind. ‘I never realised … being a laboratory assistant … could be this … interesting.’