Kyle was almost exultant as Barbara led him down to the basement to be punished. It had been a long, grudging trek, painstakingly molding her from vanilla girlfriend to budding dominant, but after nearly two years she really seemed to be acquiring a taste for it. He no longer had to cajole, suggest, or even hint at what he wanted. He didn't have to play stupid bad boy games, needlessly acting the ass to get Barbara's corporal attention. At least once a week, usually on the weekend, she would wordlessly crook a long finger at him and lead him down into the playroom he'd furnished over the years. She would barely say anything, not that she had too. She would either sit down on a straight backed chair, hairbrush in hand, and point across her elegant thighs, or gesture him over to the St. Andrews cross, the medieval pillory, or more recently to their newest addition, the spanking bench. He could pretty much guess by her outfit what it would be. A dress or shorts, anything revealing her long tanned legs, meant a domestic session over her lap. Comfortable clothing, like jeans and a tee-shirt, meant the cross, which required a lot of stretching and reaching to fasten him in place. Something more elegant and forbidding, like form fitting slacks with heels, meant the bench. Tonight she was dressed in midnight black slacks, similarly colored high heels, and a white sweater top that accentuated her breasts like a cheerleader's uniform on game day.
It wasn't Kyle's first try at playing Pygmalion. But he'd bungled the job badly with his previous girlfriend, a fiasco laced with inexperience and studded with impatience. The girl had been willing, enthusiastic actually, but he'd been so intent on ramping up the intensity, he'd badly underestimated his own need for the psychological part of the scene. He was trying to develop a stern, imperious mistress who could punish him methodically and implacably, and he ended up with a girl who treated the entire enterprise as a ribald joke. When she'd stepped up to a fairly severe whipping, leaving him crying and yelling, the experience had been effectively ruined when she laughed and chortled at the end, as though she'd just witnessed a great comedy sketch. An ominous chuckle would have been fine, an evil smile perfectly acceptable, but unrestrained mirth shattered every illusion he was trying to construct. Needless to say, that relationship quickly hurtled downhill and ended shortly thereafter. What could he tell the girl? That she wasn't allowed to find it funny? He'd have felt like a man trying to tell his girlfriend how best to fake her orgasms.
They got to the bottom of the stairs and Barbara paused for a moment. As he expected from her outfit, she pointed to the bench. He smiled inwardly as he eased himself into position. It was his favorite, basically a well padded sawhorse with eyelets at the base and middle of each leg for cuffs and restraining straps and two on the side of the cross piece for a thick strap across his lower back. It was comfortable, at least until Barbara got started, and neatly bridged the gap between purely domestic discipline and the more dungeon oriented cross or pillory.
============================================
Barbara did her best to keep from rolling her eyes as she pointed Kyle towards the spanking bench. She still found it disconcerting, and more than a little risible, that a young man on the ascension, a man with an income well into six figures, a man who had many people reporting to him, desired nothing more than to be ordered into a vulnerable position and punished. She held herself up to her full five foot ten inches, nicely augmented with medium heels, and gestured imperiously. As usual, Kyle asked no questions and simply positioned himself over the horse, waiting for her to strap him down.
She distinctly remembered how awkward she'd felt the first time she had him over her lap for a spanking, how silly she felt when administering it, and how mortified she was at its conclusion when he made fun of her admittedly feeble efforts. He hadn't been mean or nasty about it, but his mildly condescending smirk had annoyed her. It wasn't like dishing out spankings was a home econ staple and he'd made her feel as though she'd been unable to scramble eggs or drive a car. Why couldn't he have more mainstream kinks, she wondered idly? God knew she would be happy to play dress up in a French Maid's outfit, or even have sex in public, at least within reason.
But punishment was what turned him on, presumably punishment at her hand, and she knew that if she didn't see to those needs he'd eventually find another woman who would. She was not going to let that happen if she could help it. Her previous relationship had imploded after a couple of promising years, she'd been with Kyle nearly the same amount of time and was now hard approaching thirty. Putting his kink aside, Kyle was a great catch; good looking, fun to be with, very well off and extremely good in bed. Especially so after one of their basement sessions, when his attentiveness could almost overwhelm her. She'd be damned if she'd spit the bit when she could sense a proposal in the near future, as long as she continued to step up her game where his submissive nature was concerned. She'd steel herself and whip every inch of skin off his ass if that was what it took.
======================================
It was dark and quiet in the neighborhood, just the way Myra liked it. The street lamps gave off only the most uncertain light, a testimony to both energy conservation and mindless stupidity. What was the point of having streetlights that offered no more illumination than a cloudless moon? But it served Myra's purpose of coming and going largely undetected and for that alone she thanked the city planners.
She'd parked a few streets over and walked the rest of the way, dressed inconspicuously in sweats and high end running shoes. No one would think twice about a young women out for an evening power walk. Certainly no one would think that she had any particular interest in 423 Lantern, even though her walk took her past it half a dozen times on her wanderings. And any man who took a specific interest in her was far more likely to be wondering how best to get the attention of the nicely rounded young woman touring the neighborhood than her business there.
It wasn't stalking, at least not as she saw it. There were no harassing phone calls or e-mail entreaties. She didn't follow him when he drove off, or stake out his place of business. But she liked to come by every so often and watch his house, perhaps catch a glimpse of him from afar. And should he happen to see her, recognize her, perhaps wave at her, who knew what might happen? Things had ended badly between them, for reasons she still didn't entirely understand, but that didn't mean things couldn't change back for the better. Yes, he was seeing another girl and yes, it seemed serious, but so had they once upon a time.
=======================================
Kyle could really appreciate Barbara's growing level of expertise. She attached the cuffs as swiftly and surely as she would slide on a pair of shoes, with the same economy of motion and sense of purpose. She was a long way from the hesitant, fumbling novice who was once reluctant to deliver a hard blow and couldn't help pausing after every crack to make sure she hadn't overdone it.
He liked her quiet, businesslike approach. No stupid scolding, or fake lecturing. complete with maternal finger waving. He much preferred her silent, almost grim demeanor. It made the entire scene much more ominous. One of her latest additional touches had been using a thick, black sleep mask as a blindfold, a move which he heartily approved. It was delicious to be sightless, all his other senses on heightened alert, feeling the cool basement air on his exposed bottom, listening to her prowl around him like a big cat ready to pounce. She'd even taken to leaving the basement for ten to fifteen minutes at a time, letting him worry and wait in complete darkness. It was a nice dominant touch and he was thrilled that she'd thought of it on her own.
=====================================
Barbara slipped the sleep mask into place and finally allowed herself a rueful shake of the head. She was thankful Kyle enjoyed being blindfolded, because it had become too much of a strain to hold up her own outward mask through an entire punishment session. Sometimes when he looked back at her, his boyish face almost shining with anticipation, it was all she could do to not dissolve into laughter.
The idea had occurred to her a few weeks ago when they'd first started using the spanking bench. He looked so ridiculous on it, legs splayed out obscenely, his balls dangling like fuzzy dice from the rear view mirror of a low slung, classic Chevy, that she could barely keep from laughing out loud. When he glanced back over his shoulder at her, she'd almost cracked, but she'd managed to keep her lips in a straight line and muttered something about him thinking about the punishment he was about to get. She'd fled the basement to keep her composure, then drove quickly home to get the sleep mask. The trip took nearly twenty minutes and she was afraid he'd go ballistic at being left unattended for so long, but it seemed he'd enjoyed the extended anticipation. Nor did he protest at all when she slipped the mask over his head.
=========================================
Myra made her last swing through the neighborhood, this time walking directly in front of his house, eyes straight ahead and arms swinging rhythmically. When she passed his side hedges she stopped for a moment, ostensibly stopping to check her phone, but in reality taking a look through the side windows to see if she could catch a glimpse of him. She would only pause for a second or two, only take the most cursory and casual glances. Anything more would invite unwanted attention and her reasons for being there could be so easily misconstrued. Quick and casual were her watchwords. She wouldn't do anything that could be considered out of the ordinary.
Ever so carefully she reached out and parted some of the shrubbery to get a better look at the windows.
=================================
Kyle heard her over at the toy rack, sorting through the ever burgeoning variety of spanking implements. She'd gone heavier by degrees, working her way up from light paddles, to small leather straps and even floggers. To date she had ignored the heavy implements; the jet black prison strap and the heavy western belt with the rough grain that would sandpaper the skin off of him. She hadn't yet taken that final step, the one he craved but couldn't tell her about. He wanted nothing more than for her to cross the threshold, become his true mistress by taking him past his limits, in essence defeating him. That was the whole purpose of the cross and the bench, places for him to be restrained so she didn't have to be concerned about how much he could take. He'd even bought a ball gag and hung it on the toy rack, just in case it was the fact of his wailing that held her back. He couldn't tell her about that step, not without it becoming just another directive, another example of topping from the bottom. But he knew if she was ever able to make that step on her own, he would have found his true life partner.
====================================
Barbara decided on the eighteen inch leather paddle, a light and flexible instrument that made tremendous noise while doing minimal damage. She'd discovered that when blindfolded, Kyle's hearing became heightened and the sounds of the punishment became just as important, if not more so, than the power of the strokes. He'd put it on a peg behind the long, thick prison strap, no doubt trying to influence her to use that fearsome weapon. Not a chance, sweetie, she thought with a grin. She wouldn't even know how to handle such a thing, let alone determine how hard and long to use it. She removed the heavy strap from the peg and set it down on the workbench. When she was done, she'd put the paddle back and put the strap back in place. It wouldn't do for Kyle to know she'd held it and summarily dismissed it.
With a silent sigh she stepped back behind Kyle and prepared herself. It usually took a few seconds to work up the will to do a respectable job and while she was waiting her cell phone vibrated against her thigh. A text. She pulled it out and to her dismay it was from her work supervisor. "Results you sent of beta testing corrupted. Can you please resend ASAP? Need for tomorrow's meet." Damn, she thought. By "corrupted" her idiot supervisor no doubt meant he'd lost them, or inadvertently edited them. She knew by both the late Friday text and the stunning use of "please" that he needed the information desperately.
She had the files on her laptop, but it was at home. She couldn't figure out a way to leave the man hanging without significant repercussions to herself, so she was stuck. She started to mention the problem to Kyle, but then thought better of it. Making him wait before seemed like an anticipatory tonic to him. It wouldn't take her long to boot up her laptop and resend the information.
"I want you to think long and hard about what you've done this week," she said in a low voice that she hoped sounded threatening. "When I come back down here, you're going to get a beating you won't ever forget." She headed back up the stairs, taking pains not to move quickly until she had closed the basement door behind her. The she grabbed her purse and ran for the door.
===================================
Startled, Myra slipped further back behind the hedge when the screen door flew open. A young woman came trotting down the driveway, a bit hobbled by a good length of heel, quickly jumped into her car and pulled back into the street. The car raced off, far in excess of the neighborhood speed limit. What the hell, she wondered. The woman had driven off like the furies were chasing her, not even closing the front door in the process.
She'd seen the woman before on her scouting forays. Kyle's new girlfriend. Her replacement. Frankly, she saw no reason for him to prefer the tall blonde over her. Sure, she was pretty enough, but she didn't have Myra's curves, more of the slender willowy type. Myra knew that most men liked breasts and booty, and she was clearly the winner there, and there was no way that this antiseptic looking blonde bitch could come anywhere near her creativity and compliance in the sack. Maybe she made a lot of money as well and she knew that nothing attracted a guy with money like more money.
Although she wasn't really aware of moving, Myra somehow found herself on the front porch. Holding her breath, she eased the screen door open and slipped inside. She thought she was on firm enough ground. The door was open, she did know the owner, intimately, and she'd just been in the neighborhood. Outside of a bit of awkwardness and embarrassment when Kyle saw her, what was the downside? And who knew, perhaps his eyes would light up when he saw her as they had once upon a time.
She didn't call out, but simply stood in the once familiar foyer and looked around. He wasn't in the living room. She couldn't imagine he was upstairs in the bedroom, not with his girlfriend heading out for parts unknown. She glanced over at the basement door and saw the glimmer of light from beneath. Playtime interrupted, she thought with a smile. Although what he'd be doing down there alone, she couldn't imagine. Maybe Kyle had suffered a heart attack and the girl had panicked and run away. In any event, it was only prudent that she make sure he was okay. And it wasn't as though she hadn't at one time been welcome in his basement.
===================================
Kyle heard the faint sound of the door opening and soft steps coming back down the stairs. Barbara hadn't made him wait long at all tonight. Perhaps she didn't really intend to give him much of a beating. Or perhaps she did and simply couldn't wait to get started. The uncertainty heightened his anticipation to an almost unbearable level. He started to say something, but silenced himself with an effort. It was her show and she shouldn't need any direction from him. Not any more.
He listened carefully as she prowled around the bench. Something indeed seemed different tonight. He sensed more power in her, more determination, more hunger. A cold, hard knot of dread started to form in the pit of his stomach.
======================================
Barbara trotted back out to her car, the critical information sent and her supervisor mollified, if not suitably grateful. She checked the clock on the dash board. Twelve minutes since she'd left Kyle. Not bad at all, she thought as she raced back towards his place. She'd be back spanking his backside within ten minutes. She'd have to make sure it was a little more severe than normal to justify his extended alone time, but she doubted he would care once she'd reddened his ass. Maybe she would have to leave a few marks this time; nothing too long lasting, just a few welts that he could look at in the mirror the next day or two and remember. She hated it whenever she left a bruise or blister, but she would suck it up this time and make sure she generated a couple for him.
========================================
Myra's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh as she saw Kyle strapped down on the spanking bench. The bench was new to her, but the position wasn't. Back then he had simply bent over the workbench in the corner, without the accompanying straps and cuffs. He'd never needed anything to hold him in place when SHE was doing the spanking. Was the new girlfriend that severe a spanker? No, she thought, studying his bare bottom. No residual marks or any sign of recent punishment, just the same smooth, vanilla butt she remembered. Probably just another one of Kyle's attempts at scene setting, trying to make it look like he was getting a real beating when he really only wanted mild sauce. She relaxed upon seeing the blindfold, knowing that he couldn't tell it was she who'd entered the playroom.
But why had the blonde bitch left him in this position? Had she forgotten her strap-on at home? The thought nearly made Myra giggle. Had she just decided she'd had enough of the whole spanking fetish? Myra couldn't understand that. She'd loved working on his bottom, smiling with every smack and laughing with every howl. Besides, she wouldn't just leave him fastened there. Maybe she was working on some new, imprisonment scene, but the spanking horse seemed a poor choice for that. Shackling him to the work bench would be better. Maybe leave him with a dog bowl full of water. Yeah, that might work.
She looked at the weapons on display and stifled another laugh. Obviously wooden spoons and rulers were now routine for Kyle. She was surprised to see the frightening looking strap sitting on the workbench beside him. Obviously the girl had meant to use this on him. Or perhaps, she mused, he'd put it there and she had balked. Myra thought the blonde looked like the skittish type. Granted, the strap would do severe damage and Kyle would yell his head off, since a good, hard application of a metal ruler could make him scream like a twelve year old boy. She took another look at the peg board, noticed the ball gag, and smiled.
====================================
Kyle was shocked to feel the ball gag being roughly inserted into his mouth. He'd bought it months ago and hung it from the pegboard wall holding the dungeon toys, but he'd never alluded to its use and Barbara had studiously avoided even looking at it. He'd simply thought it looked good next to the floggers, whips, straps and paddles, but since Barbara always pulled back at his first genuine yelp, he doubted the gag would ever fit into their play.
He made a few sounds of
protest, but it was short work cinching it behind his head and he was
quickly reduced to impotent mumbling. He guessed that answered his
question about whether she really intended a memorable beating. He was
pleased at her continuing metamorphosis and surprised at the deep wave
of anxiety that washed through him when he heard her taking some
practice swings. The whooshing was a sound he hadn't heard before.
===================================
There, Myra thought. Neatly bound, gagged and blindfolded. A far cry from when she'd last played spanking games with him.
She was now convinced that their last game had been the undoing of their relationship. She'd hit him too hard, left too many marks, and he probably couldn't face her again after she'd reduced him to a bawling little boy. It angered her that he would discard her like that, just because she played HIS game a little more for keeps than he liked, without even giving her a second chance. He doubted he had to face that humbling experience with the new girlfriend. From the looks of her, the blonde bitch would spank like she screwed; gently, quietly, and with no real passion.
An idea suddenly occurred to Myra. How better to break up this relationship than to give not-as-kinky-as-he-thought Kyle another dose of real punishment, supposedly at the hands of his girlfriend? Who else could he think it would be? And once done, how could his girlfriend protest her innocence? By admitting she'd left him bound to a spanking horse to run an errand or two, leaving the front door open so any lunatic could have her way with him? An evil grin spread slowly across her face, like ripples from a stone tossed into a pond.
She took a step back and swung the lash experimentally a few times, just to make sure she had the feel and distance. It didn't so much as whistle through the air as shudder, the thick strap generating tremendous air resistance. She noticed happily that Kyle also shuddered at the sound and offered something unintelligible through his gag. If he only knew who was holding the strap, she thought, he'd be shaking like an autumn leaf.
===========================================
Barbara was frustrated by the seemingly endless parade of red lights that seemed to take great joy in changing color just as she approached. She glanced at the dash clock and grimaced. Twenty minutes she'd been gone. She hoped Kyle was doing okay in her absence. Maybe being blindfolded made it difficult to gauge time.
The light finally yielded to her mounting impatience and her car leaped forward.
============================================
With each deep, slashing cut across his bottom, Kyle howled into the gag and cursed the day he bought it. Whatever Barbara was using, it hurt many times worse than the belt she'd used once before. He'd yelped on the first stroke, shocked at the sheer ferocity of the stroke, tried to compose himself during the next few, but gave it up after ten in favor of inarticulate begging. As hard as he pulled, there was no give in either the cuffs or the restraining straps. As loud as he tried to yell, as frantically as he twisted, there was no mercy given. He could feel the cuffs and straps scraping more of his skin raw as he strained ineffectually against his bonds.
The blows came hard and fast, sizzling across the surface of his skin in a molten streak, but leaving a deep seated throbbing in their wake. He couldn't believe his sweet Barbara was administering such a savage whipping, a thrashing straight out of nowhere, without the merest thundercloud on the horizon to predict its onslaught.
===========================================
It took every grain of Myra's self control not to laugh hysterically at Kyle's jerking atop the bench and his muffled shrieks. She almost wished she could remove the gag and listen to him screaming, but she wasn't certain if even his well insulated basement would keep the sounded from drifting to the street. The strap was doing just what she'd thought, each swipe turning his ass a darker shade of crimson. She'd only delivered two dozen strokes, but she could already see purple bruising forming in spots. Granted, every swing was full force, and she doubted Kyle had ever received anything like that from his new girlfriend.
She paused for a moment, breathing heavily. Her breathing was nothing next to Kyle's high pitched whimpering as he trembled in near collapse on the bench. Yes, she thought, he'd have plenty of bruises tomorrow. Not just a small handful, like those that had ruined their relationship two years earlier, but wall to wall bruising that would last for days. She wondered how quickly the blonde would be shown the door after this. Perhaps this very night, and wasn't that a pleasant thought?
Two dozen more should do it, she thought happily. Two dozen REALLY good ones. She took a deep breath and went back to work.
==========================================
By the time she was through, he'd had all the fight whipped out of him. Kyle thought she was finished when she stopped before, already having given him by far the worst beating of his life, but discovered to his horror that the first two dozen strokes had merely been the appetizer for the full nightmare to come. By the end he'd stopped fighting, stopped moving, almost stopped howling. His throat was raw, but that was nothing compared to the acid wash that was his ass. He could almost feel the flesh crinkling, like paper too close to an open flame, and his butt felt slick with sweat, although it could have been blood for all he knew.
As if in a dream, he felt the gag come loose from his mouth. He gulped in deep shuddering breaths, tasting a sour mixture of tears and running snot on his lips. "I'm sorry," he offered hoarsely. "Please, I'm sorry."
=============================================
Myra put her back into the last half dozen strokes, almost leaving her feet with the effort. She was sweating nearly through her top by the time she stopped to admire her handiwork. She'd heard the phrase "black and blue" before, but it really didn't do justice to the multi-colored splotches that now made up Kyle's ass, some black to be sure, and a little blue if you looked at it in the right light, but mostly searing scarlet turning deep purple at the edges. She felt triumphant in a way that spanking him before had never done. She took a few quick pictures with her cell phone as a remembrance.
She casually tossed the strap back onto the workbench. Time to get out of here, she thought belatedly. Who knew when, or if the blonde was coming back. She unfastened the gag, just to hear his moaning, and was absurdly pleased to hear the tears in his voice as he gasped. When he murmured "I'm sorry," she thought for a frightening moment he knew who she was, but that couldn't be the case. The sentiment pleased her nonetheless.
She gave him a light pat on his blistered rear as she headed for the steps, taking a last look at what she'd wrought before leaving. It looked like a mess, even from a distance. Let's see the blonde explain that, she thought, slipping out the front door and back out into the night. She was careful to leave the front door ajar.
==========================================
Barbara turned swiftly down the driveway, having to slow for a young woman out for a brisk evening walk. She hurried to the front porch, annoyed to see she'd left the front door open when she left. That was stupid. It was a safe neighborhood, but you could never be too careful. She took a quick glance around the living room. Nothing seemed out of place. She close and bolted the door behind her, chiding herself for her carelessness.
Barbara hurried down to the basement, hoping Kyle wasn't too impatient. She pulled up short, open mouthed in shock at the sight that greeted her. Kyle's once smooth ass was mottled with bruises, raw with near bleeding welts and glistening as though it had been freshly waxed. She whirled around in quick terror, wondering who had done this and if they were still around. She was alone. Everything in the basement, save Kyle's ass, was as she left it. A tiny bit of vomit rose up her throat as she realized in a panic that he could have easily been killed by whoever did this.
She roused herself and quickly unfastened the restraints. Calling the police would wait until he was free and on his feet. She helped him off the bench gently, removing the sleep mask when he turned towards her. His face was puffy and stained with tears and he wiped his lips and eyes as he stared at her.
She was shocked to see his erection was enormous.
==========================================
Kyle looked at Barbara, tall, beautiful and stern, her mouth set in a grim line as she looked at him. There was no remorse there, although she did look a bit shocked at what had just transpired. He could certainly understand that. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think she was capable of laying into him like that, of reducing him to a quivering, begging wreck and then hitting even harder. He had to admit, he never wanted to experience that level of punishment again. But he also had to admit it was thrilling to know she was capable of such intensity.
She started to say something, but before she could start a post-whipping lecture he reached out and pulled her to him, his erection pushing up deliciously against her waist. "You're everything I've ever wanted, Barbara," he whispered into her ear. "You're the one."
===========================================
Barbara had been just about to tell him about the bizarre circumstances of his beating when Kyle enveloped her in a crushing hug. Before she could get the first word out, he was inexplicably telling her how special she was. She couldn't have been more stunned if he'd told her he'd done the whipping himself through telepathy. She started to forge ahead with the ugly truth, then felt his hardness pressing insistently against her, her status as "the one" still ringing in her ears, and decided that in this particular instance truth was a highly overrated commodity. She breathed happily, moving her pelvis rhythmically in response to his pressure.
=============================================
Myra felt completely cleansed on her way home. Liberated in fact. She wondered idly if Kyle had already given the blonde her walking papers and found to her delight that she really didn't care all that much. She decided she didn't really want a guy who begged for spankings and then went to pieces when he actually got the genuine article. She thought when she got home she just might take a closer gander at some of the spanking personals she'd browsed before. There had to be someone on there who was a better fit for a girl with an itchy whip hand.
===================================
There, Myra thought. Neatly bound, gagged and blindfolded. A far cry from when she'd last played spanking games with him.
She was now convinced that their last game had been the undoing of their relationship. She'd hit him too hard, left too many marks, and he probably couldn't face her again after she'd reduced him to a bawling little boy. It angered her that he would discard her like that, just because she played HIS game a little more for keeps than he liked, without even giving her a second chance. He doubted he had to face that humbling experience with the new girlfriend. From the looks of her, the blonde bitch would spank like she screwed; gently, quietly, and with no real passion.
An idea suddenly occurred to Myra. How better to break up this relationship than to give not-as-kinky-as-he-thought Kyle another dose of real punishment, supposedly at the hands of his girlfriend? Who else could he think it would be? And once done, how could his girlfriend protest her innocence? By admitting she'd left him bound to a spanking horse to run an errand or two, leaving the front door open so any lunatic could have her way with him? An evil grin spread slowly across her face, like ripples from a stone tossed into a pond.
She took a step back and swung the lash experimentally a few times, just to make sure she had the feel and distance. It didn't so much as whistle through the air as shudder, the thick strap generating tremendous air resistance. She noticed happily that Kyle also shuddered at the sound and offered something unintelligible through his gag. If he only knew who was holding the strap, she thought, he'd be shaking like an autumn leaf.
===========================================
Barbara was frustrated by the seemingly endless parade of red lights that seemed to take great joy in changing color just as she approached. She glanced at the dash clock and grimaced. Twenty minutes she'd been gone. She hoped Kyle was doing okay in her absence. Maybe being blindfolded made it difficult to gauge time.
The light finally yielded to her mounting impatience and her car leaped forward.
============================================
With each deep, slashing cut across his bottom, Kyle howled into the gag and cursed the day he bought it. Whatever Barbara was using, it hurt many times worse than the belt she'd used once before. He'd yelped on the first stroke, shocked at the sheer ferocity of the stroke, tried to compose himself during the next few, but gave it up after ten in favor of inarticulate begging. As hard as he pulled, there was no give in either the cuffs or the restraining straps. As loud as he tried to yell, as frantically as he twisted, there was no mercy given. He could feel the cuffs and straps scraping more of his skin raw as he strained ineffectually against his bonds.
The blows came hard and fast, sizzling across the surface of his skin in a molten streak, but leaving a deep seated throbbing in their wake. He couldn't believe his sweet Barbara was administering such a savage whipping, a thrashing straight out of nowhere, without the merest thundercloud on the horizon to predict its onslaught.
===========================================
It took every grain of Myra's self control not to laugh hysterically at Kyle's jerking atop the bench and his muffled shrieks. She almost wished she could remove the gag and listen to him screaming, but she wasn't certain if even his well insulated basement would keep the sounded from drifting to the street. The strap was doing just what she'd thought, each swipe turning his ass a darker shade of crimson. She'd only delivered two dozen strokes, but she could already see purple bruising forming in spots. Granted, every swing was full force, and she doubted Kyle had ever received anything like that from his new girlfriend.
She paused for a moment, breathing heavily. Her breathing was nothing next to Kyle's high pitched whimpering as he trembled in near collapse on the bench. Yes, she thought, he'd have plenty of bruises tomorrow. Not just a small handful, like those that had ruined their relationship two years earlier, but wall to wall bruising that would last for days. She wondered how quickly the blonde would be shown the door after this. Perhaps this very night, and wasn't that a pleasant thought?
Two dozen more should do it, she thought happily. Two dozen REALLY good ones. She took a deep breath and went back to work.
==========================================
By the time she was through, he'd had all the fight whipped out of him. Kyle thought she was finished when she stopped before, already having given him by far the worst beating of his life, but discovered to his horror that the first two dozen strokes had merely been the appetizer for the full nightmare to come. By the end he'd stopped fighting, stopped moving, almost stopped howling. His throat was raw, but that was nothing compared to the acid wash that was his ass. He could almost feel the flesh crinkling, like paper too close to an open flame, and his butt felt slick with sweat, although it could have been blood for all he knew.
As if in a dream, he felt the gag come loose from his mouth. He gulped in deep shuddering breaths, tasting a sour mixture of tears and running snot on his lips. "I'm sorry," he offered hoarsely. "Please, I'm sorry."
=============================================
Myra put her back into the last half dozen strokes, almost leaving her feet with the effort. She was sweating nearly through her top by the time she stopped to admire her handiwork. She'd heard the phrase "black and blue" before, but it really didn't do justice to the multi-colored splotches that now made up Kyle's ass, some black to be sure, and a little blue if you looked at it in the right light, but mostly searing scarlet turning deep purple at the edges. She felt triumphant in a way that spanking him before had never done. She took a few quick pictures with her cell phone as a remembrance.
She casually tossed the strap back onto the workbench. Time to get out of here, she thought belatedly. Who knew when, or if the blonde was coming back. She unfastened the gag, just to hear his moaning, and was absurdly pleased to hear the tears in his voice as he gasped. When he murmured "I'm sorry," she thought for a frightening moment he knew who she was, but that couldn't be the case. The sentiment pleased her nonetheless.
She gave him a light pat on his blistered rear as she headed for the steps, taking a last look at what she'd wrought before leaving. It looked like a mess, even from a distance. Let's see the blonde explain that, she thought, slipping out the front door and back out into the night. She was careful to leave the front door ajar.
==========================================
Barbara turned swiftly down the driveway, having to slow for a young woman out for a brisk evening walk. She hurried to the front porch, annoyed to see she'd left the front door open when she left. That was stupid. It was a safe neighborhood, but you could never be too careful. She took a quick glance around the living room. Nothing seemed out of place. She close and bolted the door behind her, chiding herself for her carelessness.
Barbara hurried down to the basement, hoping Kyle wasn't too impatient. She pulled up short, open mouthed in shock at the sight that greeted her. Kyle's once smooth ass was mottled with bruises, raw with near bleeding welts and glistening as though it had been freshly waxed. She whirled around in quick terror, wondering who had done this and if they were still around. She was alone. Everything in the basement, save Kyle's ass, was as she left it. A tiny bit of vomit rose up her throat as she realized in a panic that he could have easily been killed by whoever did this.
She roused herself and quickly unfastened the restraints. Calling the police would wait until he was free and on his feet. She helped him off the bench gently, removing the sleep mask when he turned towards her. His face was puffy and stained with tears and he wiped his lips and eyes as he stared at her.
She was shocked to see his erection was enormous.
==========================================
Kyle looked at Barbara, tall, beautiful and stern, her mouth set in a grim line as she looked at him. There was no remorse there, although she did look a bit shocked at what had just transpired. He could certainly understand that. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think she was capable of laying into him like that, of reducing him to a quivering, begging wreck and then hitting even harder. He had to admit, he never wanted to experience that level of punishment again. But he also had to admit it was thrilling to know she was capable of such intensity.
She started to say something, but before she could start a post-whipping lecture he reached out and pulled her to him, his erection pushing up deliciously against her waist. "You're everything I've ever wanted, Barbara," he whispered into her ear. "You're the one."
===========================================
Barbara had been just about to tell him about the bizarre circumstances of his beating when Kyle enveloped her in a crushing hug. Before she could get the first word out, he was inexplicably telling her how special she was. She couldn't have been more stunned if he'd told her he'd done the whipping himself through telepathy. She started to forge ahead with the ugly truth, then felt his hardness pressing insistently against her, her status as "the one" still ringing in her ears, and decided that in this particular instance truth was a highly overrated commodity. She breathed happily, moving her pelvis rhythmically in response to his pressure.
=============================================
Myra felt completely cleansed on her way home. Liberated in fact. She wondered idly if Kyle had already given the blonde her walking papers and found to her delight that she really didn't care all that much. She decided she didn't really want a guy who begged for spankings and then went to pieces when he actually got the genuine article. She thought when she got home she just might take a closer gander at some of the spanking personals she'd browsed before. There had to be someone on there who was a better fit for a girl with an itchy whip hand.
byAustCarr© 0 comments/ 4282 views/ 4 favorites
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