The Story of Emma Page 4

  “I want you to commit yourself entirely to my control.”

  “Yes sir,” I whispered.

  “Good girl. Go and stand behind the sofa then bend over it.” At last!

  Again I shivered at the chill of the leather as it met my stomach but my attention was riveted on the cane lying just below my face. To the left and right of it were lengths of white nylon rope; one end of each was tied through steel loops which were sewn into thick leather straps with buckles. Ben duly buckled these tightly onto my wrists and then looped the other ends of the ropes around the front legs of the sofa until I was bent over and grunting under the twin strains of trying to keep my toes on the floor and the pain of the sofa digging hard into my stomach. Only then did he tie them off. It was my very first experience of restraint and I liked it. It was terrifying and exciting and the feel of the leather tightly gripping my wrists was very sexy indeed.

  My hair hung down round my face but I could just see his hand reach down and pick up the cane.

  “Oh God!” I couldn’t help myself when I saw him adjust his grip and heft it to get the feel of it. He chuckled as he moved round behind me and used his foot to nudge my feet wider apart. He was getting a grandstand view of everything I had to offer. I twisted my hands so I could grip the ropes and hang on for dear life.

  “By the way, holdups are okay every now and then, but darker ones in future.”

  “Yes sir. Please sir?”

  “What?”

  “Please… please start! I can’t stand it anymore!”

  “Oh you can stand a lot more K, believe me. But you learn fast, I was going to make you beg me to take the cane to you in any case. There’s just the matter of how many strokes now. Six for pleasure I think and another six for the various offences you have committed.”

  I gaped in horror. Twelve! No-one could take that, could they? I was about to beg for mercy when I felt his hand softly stroke down along my sex and his fingers split the lips then rub at the clitoris which sent a jolt of such intense excitement through me it went way beyond pleasure.

  And then at last he started. His fingers left me, there was a sudden whooshing in the air behind me and a fleshy smack as the cane bit. A second’s numbness and then all hell let loose. A wave of fire swept through me. Tears sprang to my eyes, my head went back and my throat tightened so I couldn’t breathe or scream or anything. Then the second landed and I was pulling at my ropes with all my strength, bouncing up and down still gulping for breath. The third, and I started screaming.

  I couldn’t stand this! He had to have mercy on me! I had no idea that anything could hurt so much; I took it all back, I didn’t want this!

  I sobbed and begged my way through three more strokes, and then he stopped. I gasped and gulped and sniffed until I could fully appreciate the fire now raging in my bottom. It seemed to throb in waves which engulfed me and swept me away. But now that the cane was no longer landing, strange things were happening to me. I knew my whole sex was blatantly on display between my agonised buttocks and spread legs. And just like when Martin had strapped me and spanked me the white heat of the cane seemed to have gone deep into my very core and I knew I was moist down there. I sniffed up some more snot which had trailed from my nose and realised that Ben was standing in front of me. His dressing gown had come open enough for me to see the bulge in his trousers. He had enjoyed that, and he was going to enjoy me even more when he finished.

  “All right K?”

  I managed a nod. He poured himself a glass of wine and took a drink while I gradually calmed. Now the feelings were merely overwhelming rather than agonising, and there was a definite excitement growing in me. I had done it! If I could weather six; I could take twelve.

  “Ready to go again?” he asked, standing behind me once more.

  I nodded. I was ready this time but I still howled like a banshee as the next six carved themselves into me. But this time I was conscious of the erotic sound of the cane striking my stretched bottom and the fires grew and grew, each stroke adding to the last, but also adding to the excitement of giving myself so totally to this man offering my pain for his enjoyment, and so turning it into something that wasn’t mere pain.

  And the pride when he untied me at last!

  It was some time before I could straighten up and I realised that all my writhing had tugged my stockings down. I pulled them up, straightened them and walked over to Ben as best I could. I was desperate to rub my cheeks but I was so proud of having taken twelve good whacks that I was determined to show him that it was no big deal to a tough cookie like me.

  I remember that I spent an hour or so in Position One, with my back to him while he occasionally stroked my backside and ran his fingers along the still scalding lines carved onto my buttocks. And he questioned me further. Had I enjoyed it when Martin slapped me? Had he ever whipped my breasts? I jumped at that. Surely a woman couldn’t be whipped there!

  “Oh my dear girl, there is virtually nowhere the female can’t be whipped, provided one knows what one is doing,” Ben told me when I dared question it.

  I took some time to absorb that and felt very vulnerable between my open legs all of a sudden.

  I learned more positions that night; Two was down on hands and knees, back arched, head up. Three was knees and forearms, head down and bottom up. Ben explained that this was useful for swift and minor punishment as well as buggery. Four was standing with hands behind head, elbows well back, good for breast display. Five was the waiting position, hands behind back, legs apart and facing the wall.

  Over the next few weeks K spent a lot of time in Five as her master was keen on waiting as part of her training. He would announce which implements were going to be used on her, or how he was going to take her and then put her in Five to let her think about it for an hour or so. It was very effective and he always got a moist and excited girl when he finally began.

  But I finished that first night tied to his bed. Ben explained that it was the only way I would share it with him, otherwise I would be sent to one of the spare rooms when he had finished with me or else I would be tied to the foot of the bed. I was very impressed with the neatness of the wrist restraints and their clips when he fed my wrists through the bars of the bed head and clipped them together. He then put more restraints on my ankles and fastened them wide apart to each of the posts at the foot of the bed.

  My bottom still burned and stung deliciously under me and the evening’s activities plus my wide open bondage were doing devastating things between my legs and when Ben finally mounted me I took him for a wild ride. He was heavier than Martin but so far as I could I bucked and pushed under him as he thrust into me, deliberately I squirmed my hips about to stoke up the fires in my bottom and propelled myself as loudly as ever into orgasm twice before he came.

  And how I loved his final pushes as he climaxed! I felt so totally used; beaten, bound and screwed by someone who really knew how to dominate a girl. Before he fell asleep beside me Ben told me I was the loudest girl he had ever had - either under punishment or during sex. He would beat that out of me, he said.

  I smiled happily in the darkness and tugged at my bonds a couple of times to enjoy the feeling of helplessness to the full and finally fell asleep myself despite being unable to stop Ben’s semen oozing coldly down my bottom crease.

  Dressed in my smart linen suit the next morning I left Ben’s house to resume being Emma. But I was a different Emma now; knickerless and with a stiff bum, an Emma who felt a complete woman at last. A woman who was prepared to give everything to her man and who had braved the cane to provide him with pleasure and found her own overwhelming joy in the tortured regions of submission. Ben had been so clever, he had known that it was the cane which held the most fearful fascination for me as it was what I had been looking forward to with Martin, and he had broken me in by making me face it straightaway. Now I was ove
r that hurdle, I could face anything.

  In the following days I threw myself back into work with a vengeance. Going for stories like a terrier, worrying at people and hounding them till I got what I wanted and then writing with a vigour and energy I had never had before. And the part of me that was now K was insanely proud of my wounds and every evening I would strip in front of my mirror and examine the marks left on it by Ben, my master.

  I was fascinated by the narrow tramlines which striped each buttock and how the flesh had bruised darkly around them, especially where the inner, softer flesh had been struck. I was also very impressed by how close together they had been laid on me. Ben had a very good eye and all twelve strokes had been laid neatly on the main buttock flesh without straying down onto the thighs. I learned that he had been going easy on me for my first time.

  It took a week for the bruises to run their course through purple and red to yellow and brown and finally begin to fade. Meanwhile I awaited my next summons impatiently. It came in the middle of an editorial meeting. My mobile rang and Ben simply gave me a day and a time, told me he was going to whip me with a crop and then hung up. I melted inside at the sound of his voice and my thighs clenched together under the table. I hardly heard anything from then on. I was K again.

  On my second visit I duly got the crop. I wore my blue dress, a nicely tailored waist and twirly pleated skirt; over dark stockings it looked very prim and proper.

  As soon as I was inside Ben had me take the longest of the crops out of the coat stand. I could feel the weight of the thing, the cord on the shaft and how whippy that shaft was. It made my skin crawl and once more I experienced pure terror. I thought I would be so much braver after the cane… but no way.

  When I was naked - even stockings and suspenders this time, only my black court shoes left - he had a good feel of me and that calmed me down. It was just as if I was a horse he owned. He stroked down my sides and my hips, and ran his hands across my buttocks again and again and then played with my breasts for ages. He only slapped them after he had felt them very slowly and thoroughly and then pulled at the nipples till my eyes were watering.

  “You’ve got good tits, K,” he said. “Nice wide sweeps of upper breastflesh and pleasantly convex too. And good curves below the nipples as well. When you’re ready for clamps and pegs you’ll find there’s plenty I can work with there.”

  I felt so grateful that he was getting to like them so much that I almost thanked him without permission. But I didn’t, I was learning.

  Then he went for the jackpot and my knees nearly buckled when he touched me there. One finger up first, and he had no trouble getting in believe me, then two and after a quick rub at the clit with his thumb - good and hard - he got three in and started stirring things up. I couldn’t help groaning and moaning; it was wonderful. I think he was trying to make me break my position and he damn nearly succeeded. I had my fingers clenched in my hair and my legs were locked so rigid they ached by the time he finished. Then he reached under me and ran his wet fingers down between my buttocks and over my anus. He stopped there for a bit, just tickling it and pressing a little, while I clenched my teeth and waited for him to go in, but he didn’t.

  “Later K,” he said. “When you’ve been cropped you’ll have earned it.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that but at least he put me in Five and went to have a bath. I stood and stared at the wall beside the writing desk where he had positioned me and tried to recover. The way he had felt me and played with me had got all tangled up in my mind with the forthcoming beating and I couldn’t decide which one I was getting myself all wet thinking about. In the end I just decided to enjoy feeling so horny and to relax and leave everything to Ben.

  When he came back he was wearing just the blue dressing gown, I saw him from the corner of my eye and heard him pick up the crop. He ordered me to follow him, naked and trembling down the hall and into the dining room. There was a superb walnut dining table with eight beautiful chairs around it, and portraits on the walls. I just about took that in as he guided me across the room and had me stand under, and in between two wrought iron wall lights. In the ironwork of each I wasn’t surprised to see a ring hanging down. Ben buckled on my wrist restraints and clipped them to these rings so that I was held face first against the wall, boobs slightly squashed and arms raised and spread.

  Then he took up the crop and began to stroke it over my back and bottom, letting me get the feel of the shaft and the keeper at the end.

  Then he asked, “Now K, what do you have to say?”

  I knew how this bit went and although I was scared and thrilled I managed to keep my voice steady. “Please use the crop on me sir. I’m ready.”

  “I wonder about that,” he replied. “Anyway turn your head to the side so I can see your face. Whenever possible it is desirable to be able to see a slave’s face as she is whipped. They look very pretty when they wince and gasp and scream.”

  I had been standing with my forehead pressed to the wall and now I turned towards him. And I think as I did so he saw just what an effect his words had had on me. I was definitely ready to go. The open way he had talked had me feeling like molten lava inside. The casual brutality of whipping a girl to enjoy how pretty she looked while undergoing it! I loved the idea, and best of all he had used the word ‘slave’ for the first time. He even brushed my hair forward off my shoulders so that nothing would get in the way of the crop and I swear I nearly came to orgasm at that bit of cruelty.

  Anyway, this time I could see what was coming, Ben had stripped off and I saw his lovely erection swaying as he moved his arm back

  How can I describe that sound? It was a sort of swooshing, like with the cane, but there was a much louder report when it hit me. I suppose it was a kind of Whhhhack! Or Shhhwack! Words just can’t do the job! But it was more than just the sound, very sexy though it was, it was the instant burn on the skin of my back, the impact which jerked me against the wall, my nakedness and helplessness and most of all opening my eyes after each lash to see Ben staring intently at my back, aiming the next stroke while the heat of the last sank into my whole body.

  And being tied like a real slavegirl for the first time made it the most incredibly erotic experience! I blinked and gasped after each of the early lashes, then clenched my teeth against the screams as the beating went on and the agony mounted. But I was mesmerised by watching the shaft swing in towards me and strangled shrieks at last burst out of me as the blows built the fires across my back and bottom into white hot lances of flame which went far deeper than pain.

  In the end I think I came. It felt as if I did. Something was fluttering and clenching inside me as the lashes kept on coming. It was far better than the cane. Every nerve in my back was registering overload and by the time Ben started in on my bottom, I swear I was grinding my pelvis against the wall, trying to drag my clit up to rub it.

  Soon after that he stopped and when he released me I just slid down the wall and stayed there gasping like a landed fish. But unlike a normal orgasm I didn’t feel content and satisfied afterwards, what had happened to me under the whip had left me desperate to have Ben inside me, somewhere… anywhere.

  As my head cleared I wiped away the snot and tears from my face and heard Ben’s voice.

  “Crawl to me K. Thank me with your mouth for that whipping. You looked exceptionally pretty while you were suffering.”

  Oh yes I had suffered all right, but I had loved every second of it and I crawled over to where he was leaning against the side of the table. His erection was sticking up hard and inviting, just waiting for me to explore and taste every inch of its soft sheath of skin. I knelt up when I reached him and very gently began to lick him, thanking him for the fires still raging over my body, thanking him for having put me to the whip. Payment for that scarlet mist of agonised delight I had just experienced.

  I slowly lick
ed every inch of that lovely shaft, a master’s sex; the very essence of mastery. I explored every vein and every fold of foreskin, holding the base with one hand and running the fingernails of the other up and down his inner thighs. I ducked my head and tasted the tight scrotum, rolling the balls on my tongue, moving along and licking as far up towards his anus as I could, smelling the sweat between his thighs. Then I moved back and began to make my way up towards the helm, running my hands up to his chest so he could hold them there and force me to work with only my mouth. And slowly, ever so slowly I slid my lips around that wonderful smooth, polished helm, already exuding its first rich tasting drops of liquid. His size made me open so wide I thought I was going to dislocate my jaw. I was so full of him I could hardly suck and just slid down and down, until he was pushing right into my throat. That was the most I had ever got in, I think the aftermath of the whipping which was still dominating my body let me relax much more than usual and suddenly I realised my nose was almost brushing his pubic hair and my face was stuffed to bursting with penis.

  It was time. I had to go for it before the gagging reflexes set in. And the thought of having him spurt directly into my throat was so exciting I just had to do it. I started that nodding motion which always milks them but I did it far better than ever before, moving right up till I felt my teeth on the edge of his helm and then all the way back down to almost nuzzle his bush. I was in some kind of frenzy I think, I was pure sex, whipped and desperate to please but getting a bigger hit out of oral than I had ever had in my life. The crisis came with that lovely swelling and stiffening and then the pumping began, I could feel the pulses run along the whole length I had in my mouth and throat. And God could he pump! There was gallons of the stuff and I locked onto him tensing everything except my throat, just letting it jet straight down me, but when I felt the spasms begin to fade I lifted back so I could taste the last few drops on my tongue.