Perfect Picture Pt. 02

It is three long days before I venture back into the art gallery. Two of those days were the weekend but I could not find the courage on Monday evening. Instead, I slipped back to my flat and then spent the rest of the night cursing myself for my lack of bravery whenever I was not dreaming of suffering in submission.

Now, I take a deep breath and step across the threshold, bell above the door tinkling merrily, heart pounding away as if I had run a hundred metres race rather than just walked from my office. Jack glances up and then smiles warmly and my worries melt away. I had been so scared that he would not wish to see me again because I had not visited yesterday as we had arranged in the car before I had got out and gone into my flat.

"You are twenty-four hours late, young lady!" he teases in a mock-stern voice and, for some strange reason, I instantly fall into line with him and apologise profusely.

"Please, sir, I am so sorry but..."

"You have changed your mind about experiencing more?" he asks, worried now judging from how his voice rises as well as one eyebrow.

"I lacked the courage, sir," I reply. "Perhaps I need to be spanked hard for my failings?"

His smile suddenly returns and he steps out from behind the counter and draws me into him, settling one soft tender kiss on my forehead before he orders me upstairs with strict instructions to follow and a warning that I will be punished even more severely if I fail to carry them out to the letter.

A few minutes later and I am quivering, legs trembling in anticipation and fear. Have I done everything right? What will he do if I haven't? The heavy tread of his footsteps on the stairs sounds and I cast another quick glance round just to make sure then bend right over the chair, pushing my bottom out as I dip my back. Twin globes framed by a black suspender belt and stockings but with no knickers. High heels that elevate my legs and then just the black strap of my brassiere to break up the creamy-whiteness of my back. On the carpet just behind my feet are the three items that I have chosen out of the vast array Jack had tucked away in an antique chest: one of those the fashionable people use for a coffee table! Will he use all three or just choose one? How much will being hit with an implement hurt in comparison to his hand? I swallow hard as I realise that I am about to find out.

The soft click of his camera phone and I blush as I realise that he is recording my pose for posterity. It is a stay of execution though so I welcome it even though it is brief, just thirty seconds or so. His hand caresses my buttocks then slides down and straightens one of the seams in my stockings before he starts to spank me gently.

"Warming this perfect peach up, Rhian," he murmurs in between spanks and I smile to myself at the compliment. I have always thought my arse was a little on the small side, more of an apple than a luscious peach, but Jack seems to disagree and who am I, his willing slave, to argue?

"Now, let me think," he says after smacking me harder and making the heat rise in my bottom beautifully, "you are twenty-four hours late so I will award you that number of strokes split between the three implements that you have chosen. You will, of course, count the number and thank me for each stroke or I am afraid that it will not count!"

I have read of this in countless stories online, perusing the tales on Literotica, and even in some printed books such as the famous 'Story of O' but I never thought I would have to do it myself. A rush of moisture deep inside and I close my thighs, suddenly embarrassed to show this man I hardly know how much just those few simple words have aroused me. Something abruptly dangles down my exposed spine and I jump at the unexpectedness.

"Eight strokes with the flogger then, Rhian. Remember to say 'stop now' if this is too much for you. This is about testing your limits and gaining knowledge about your own desires, not in me beating you into submission! After all, you are showing that utter submission by bending over this chair with your naked bottom glowing at me, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," I answer and hear him chuckle. He hadn't wanted me to call him that or any other honorific really but I had insisted, wanting to get fully into my submissive role. As the whip whirls away off my back, I wonder if I am going to regret my choices.

The heaviness hits me on the arse, jolting me forward. The noise echoes round the room but the pain is nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be.

"One, thank you, sir," I state firmly, pushing my bottom out in readiness for the next. Now I know what it feels like, I do not fear it any more and I am, in fact, quite eager to feel the heavy weight falling onto my bare cheeks... unless he has been deliberately soft on me? That thought slides through my brain as I hear the thongs of the floggers flicker back down. No, it is definitely more style over substance, I decide as he lays on the full eight strokes. The pain is manageable, almost pleasant in its warming effect on my twin globes and my arousal deepens and I blush furiously as I realise that my slippery juices are now trickling slowly but surely down my inner thigh towards my stocking tops.

The flogger lies dormant eventually, draped across my back whilst Jack feels my bottom cheeks, stroking over the heated skin as he inquires whether I am alright.

"Yes, sir," I state immediately, not wanting to give him or me an excuse to stop. His hand slides lower and I jump as the tips of his fingers brush over my softness in an exploratory caress that sends a bolt of passion flashing through me... and almost certainly reveals to him that I am soaking wet with desire. He steps away and I sigh in disappointment then I hear the subtle noise of his phone and know that my burning bottom is being snapped again.

Something much harder than the flogger taps my bottom gently and I steel myself, knowing that the wide leather strap is going to hurt more. Why did I choose it? I curse myself silently then am crying out loudly as heat burns into my arse abruptly when the leather kisses my flesh with a tongue of fire.

"Nine, thank you, sir," I mutter out through the pain eventually, bottom wriggling as I try to cope with the raw pain. A tiny, wry smile flits over my lips as I realise that I am displaying everything to this man I hardly know. Me, the girl who always undressed beneath her towel for games at school and in the swimming baths. Rhian who likes to make love with the lights out yet now I am bent over naked for the delectation of a man about fifteen years older than me... and am loving it!

That thought keeps me surfing the waves of pain that crest in my senses as the heavy leather strikes my bottom another seven times. At no point do I think about surrendering. I am determined to survive and show Jack how brave I can be... for him and for myself!

He asks me again if I am alright and I give the same reply, stubborn as the proverbial mule as my mother used to say when I refused to do something for her. I know what is next and I fear it greatly... which is why I chose it in the first place. Fingers slide over my beaten buttocks gently and then I am whimpering with need as they slip between my thighs and cup my wetness, pressing against my labia for a few moments before that slipperiness is wiped clean on my hot cheeks. If he had only kept his hand there a few seconds more, I know I would have disgraced myself utterly and erupted into my climax but now I have to face the cane. Or bottom the cane my silly mind tells me as it taps on my soft flesh.

A veritable line of fire is left on my skin by the first stroke and I squeal and wiggle my hips, trying to fight back the overwhelming urge to rub my wealed cheeks better. It is worse that I imagined! I bite my lip as it taps away again and then feel mortified when Jack announces that I failed to thank him or count the stroke so that it will not count towards the total.

My knuckles whiten on the back of the chair as I wait for the cruel lash and then I am crying out again, cheeks dancing with a mind of their own. I have learnt from my mistake though and count out number seventeen loudly even as my bottom cheeks still jiggle. Tears squeeze out of my eyes and run down my face after the next stroke whips across my soft flesh and I am so close to surrendering and shouting out for Jack to stop but something, maybe just pure stubbornness, possibly the teasing tickle of desire, makes me refrain. My breathing is ragged and quick now and my hips keep moving in small circles as I try and ease the pain just a little.

The next four strokes of the cane bite deep but I am growing more accustomed to the bitter pain now. My nub is pulsing in time with the waves of agony that rush through my body, surfing with them up towards pleasure in some perverse and inexplicable way. I scream as the next stroke strikes right at the juncture of buttock and thigh and then the final one cuts across the previous five as Jack angles it downwards.

A paroxysm of pain floods my senses but then comes the touch of his hand sliding between my spread thighs and cupping my soaking slit. His thumb finds my clit and rolls gently over it and I come immediately, grinding down into his flesh gratefully. My cries reach new heights and my whole body is suffused with heat as pleasure flashes through me. My insides seem to liquefy and I can feel my juices squirt out of me and soak both his hand and the chair seat underneath me even as my legs weaken and I sink down, trapping his fingers under my arse cheeks. I continue to wriggle on them, loving the sensation as he slides three up inside me whilst still teasing my bud with his thumb. Stretched wide, I slump down with all my weight, impaling myself fully on the thick digits whilst Jack dabs soft kisses on my ears and the nape of my neck.

It is quite a long time before I recover enough to stand and then I blush with sheer embarrassment as Jack snaps more pictures of my beaten bottom, commenting on how beautiful it looks with the wicked weals emblazoned so clearly upon the pale flesh. He sets the phone down and then I answer his concerned question in the affirmative. Yes, I want to go on and serve him now. He has carried out his part of the bargain and now I must perform mine and I am extremely eager to do so when I kneel down, stifling a squeal as my bottom cheeks flex and make the weals spring back to agonising life instantly.

It is remarkably painful to kneel down submissively after being caned and feel your heels press onto the welts yet I enjoy it. It is a reminder of what I have endured and I revel in that, taking pride in surviving the harsh kiss of the cane as I reach up obediently and fumble open Jack's zip. He helps a little and then I am swallowing hard, anticipation coursing through my senses as I see the thick rod of his cock spring out like a Jack-in-the-box.

He is fully erect and large... much larger than any of the previous few I have played with and most of those have not gone in my mouth. I have never been that much into oral sex or giving head as it is in the vernacular. Why? I don't know really... maybe a hangover of that old school 'nice girls don't' perhaps? Yet now my mouth is almost drooling with desire as I edge closer to his prick, suddenly savouring the salty taste of his hardness deep inside me. I want to worship it for him, show him that I am his because he has become my master. Maybe if others had spanked and caned me then I would have felt as submissive for them as I do for Jack, I think for a moment before introspection is replaced by action.

I stick out my little pink tongue and lick along the length, gazing up at him at the same time and loving the way in which his blue eyes widen at the sensation. Slow, gentle strokes of my tongue over his rigid prick, feeling it pulse against my wetness. I reach down to his dangling balls and kiss them gently before sliding back up and enveloping the whole plum in my mouth, feeling it twitch and jerk as my warmth surrounds the delicate flesh.

His hands stroke my hair softly, toying with the dark tresses as I bob back and forth, ignoring the pain in my bottom cheeks as I dwell solely on loving the cock slithering in and out of my mouth. It is almost like I am now in charge despite being his submissive. It sounds such a submissive act sucking fervently on a man's thick prick whilst kneeling down for them yet I am empowered by it in some strange way. I am now giving him pleasure, rewarding him for giving me pain and that brings me delight.

I tease his frenum, wrapping my tongue round the sensitive spot and sucking harder with my lips so that he trembles a little. A minute then two passes and I keep playing with his shaft, savouring every moment. Jack looks back down at me as his prick pulses more powerfully and I nod, wanting him to explode in my mouth. To my delight, he takes back control effortlessly, just gripping my head firmly and then thrusting in and out hard and fast until the bulbous knob of his cock pokes threateningly against the back of my throat.

I slide my hand down and play with myself, rubbing my sensitive clitoris in time with his lunges as I wait for him to use me for his pleasure. His breathing quickens and his hands squeeze against my head and then he is plunging deep, prick ploughing in and out of my mouth as I feel the ripples pass along the length of his shaft. A torrent of spunk erupts, filling my mouth and I choke and splutter, spiralling rapidly up to my own climax as I relish the utter helplessness of my situation. His sperm flows down into my throat before he pulls out suddenly and bathes my face with his warm wetness, covering me with creamy gobbets of come before he plunges back in. I suck and lick avidly on the still spurting prick, taking all of my master's seed as my own rush of lust swims through my senses and makes me shiver and shake with desire.

Jack drives me home again through the quiet streets, subtly lit by the glowing disc high up in the night sky. I am quiet and that worries him a little because he keeps shooting glances across at me and asks me several times if I am alright. I nod in response as that is the truth. I am fine... in fact, I am better than fine! I am surfing along on cloud nine and that is why I don't wish to talk really. I am recalling each event and how it made me feel and, I also know that if I start talking, I will lose the taste of his seed that still lies cloyingly on my tongue.

By the time we reach my flat, I am already speculating about the next time and so I am overjoyed when he does actually invite me back again.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" he laughs as he registers the surprise on my face. "But not until the weekend... Saturday maybe? You need those welts on your gorgeous arse to heal up first! That will give me a chance to work on a couple of pictures too!"

"Thank you, Jack," I mutter, blushing furiously as he leans over and gives me a tender kiss on the lips.

I have only been inside my flat for a few seconds before my clothes are tossed everywhere and I am lying on my front, craning my head round to stare at the livid weals on my arse cheeks. At the same time, my fingers are busy between my thighs, glued onto my swollen needy bud and rubbing it furiously. My first orgasm comes swiftly, heat flooding through my flesh but it does not satisfy me in the slightest and I immediately stroke my clitoris again hard and fast, teasing my sensitive spot up towards the next. My hand is soaked and so is the bed by the time I have finished and I drift off into a dark dreamland where pain and perversity rules my every moment.