I'm kneeling on the bed trying to sit still as I wait. Seamed stockings carefully straightened, frilly french knickers and a pretty bra. Lots of make-up, he likes it when it runs. I can see myself in the mirror and sit up so my tummy looks better but nervously appraise that I look pretty hot. Good.
He comes in, looks me up and down and strokes my hair. I purr and then wince as he slaps me across the cheek, feeling a bit silly
"Not yet." He laughs, forcefully drawing me over his lap and yanking my knickers to my knees. The sarcastic part of my brain questions why I'd bothered when losing them was inevitable. To make sure it was inevitable I suppose in a bizarre way. One hand crushes my neck into the bed as the other plays across my bottom and thighs and my breathing becomes more shallow.
"You know that you deserve this." He says quietly, more of a statement than a question. I nod slightly and hide my face and gasp as he painfully uses my hair to yank my head up and asks me again.
"Yes sir." I whisper, feeling my cheeks start to burn with shame. He releases my hair and resumes his grip on my neck, which is strangely comforting. I take a deep breath and cross my ankles in reflex to playing the waiting game. When his hand smacks down hard upon my bottom it's almost a relief, no more waiting. I lie there quietly as he none too gently warms me up and try not to make too much of a fuss.
He indicates I should kneel up and slides out from under me before pointing at the bed. I give him puppy dog eyes but kneel on the bed with my knees slightly apart and shoulders all the way down, making myself available. He taps at the insides of my thighs with his crop and I reluctantly shuffle them apart, shivering slightly.
I'm not surprised when he strikes my bottom hard with the crop, it was always going to happen - both what I want and what I need. What we both want. He's not holding back though, laying it on hard and relentlessly covering my bottom with fiery welts as I whimper and try not to wriggle. There's no point counting and I try to focus on my breathing as the pain builds, yelping as a stray stroke strikes my thigh and then groaning as the next one hits the other thigh and it's obvious it wasn't a mistake. I claw at the duvet as he dishes out a few more, I can see in the mirror the vivid red against my white thighs through eyes that are beginning to water.
Then the crop is flicking teasingly against my inner thighs and I shudder nervously. Suddenly it's not so teasing and I'm squirming in pain as he hits them harder. Just as I reach the point of struggling to stay still he runs the crop across my pussy, making me moan as he teases me and then gasp as he slaps me there lightly. The message that he can do what he likes couldn't be any clearer.
He runs the crop down my spine and I shiver suspiciously. His hand is rubbing my shoulders and he's whispering that I'm a good girl and I relax a little. Then he squeezes my nipple hard and I gasp and then sigh as he massages it between his fingers, stroking my hair with the other hand. Suddenly he pulls me up by my hair and seeing the clamps laid out on the bed I bite my lip and close my eyes, sometimes it's better not to look.
"Look at me." He insists and I open my eyes and look into his as he tightens the clamps around one nipple and then the other. I try not to whimper but from the sparkle in his eye my face is obviously a giveaway - it bloody hurts. He pushes me back down onto the bed so my breasts are against the sheets and gives the chain a little tug. I can hear him rummaging around and then a swish I know only so well - the cane.
"Two dozen. Count." He decries and I nod but almost jump up after the first one sets me on fire, I can tell it's the dragon cane and that was hard. I count off the strokes obediently, fingers tight on the covers as I try to keep my back arched and not to yelp. Even the slightest movement increases the pain in my nipples, until I don't know what's worse - that horrible aching pain or the burning fire in my bottom. He stops after twelve and traces the welts with his fingernails as I focus on my breathing and try to compose myself. I sob as he pulls on the chain and laughs before slipping his hand between my legs and laughing again and I try not to blush.
"Bad girl." He teases, running his finger through my wetness and casually slipping one inside me. It's embarrassing but that doesn't stop me moaning as he begins to gently tease my clit with one hand and play with my sore nipples with the other. I shift my hips slightly and he slaps me hard on the bottom for being lascivious, I know I'm pouting as I fight to stay still.
Then it stops and the caning resumes. My bottom's cooled down a bit and the first one takes me by surprise and I almost jump up but stop myself in time. If I jump up it doesn't count. I mutter out the count between yelps and cries, it's hurting too much now, past the point where I have full control over my reactions. Without looking I know my bottom is a mess of welts and there's still six more to go, and that they'll be the hardest. He starts high and true to form they are harder, it's like being branded and I start to tear up and have to point my toes to keep still. The next three are placed neatly an inch below the one before with about a minutes gap for me to roll my hips and breath it out before resuming my white knuckle grip on the duvet for the next one. The fifth one lands right on the crease and I shriek and kick my feet but stay down, deep breaths almost choking me as I close my eyes and wait nervously for the last stroke. He swishes the cane through the air a few more time and I tighten my grip in anticipation as my world explodes with white hot pain.
My breathing slows and suddenly I'm aware of the awful pain in my nipples again, he is touching them gently and even that is agony. Slowly he pulls them off one at a time and I sob as the blood rushes back in and wriggle around in response. Roughly he forces himself inside me, squeezes them hard and whispers "Mine."