Cute Girls

The Emperor’s Will

She crouches at his feet, not daring to try to get up. She is not sure if he would allow her to complete the motion. She likes the feeling of being near him as he stands over her, even though she knows he is probably still frowning down at her. At least he is not kicking her.

She has changed a great deal since yesterday.

“What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds contemplative, sad.

She thrills to the sound of it. It is the most wonderful voice she has ever heard. She desires him so much she can’t speak. She doesn’t move, for fear of changing this tableau, the most satisfying since the abortive glamour of their royal wedding.

“Speak, woman!” he commands.

She can’t speak. In all honesty, the most she can hope for is a quick death. A merciful, undramatic death has not been the tradition of the Emperor’s predecessors; but then, the new Emperor is much different from all who have been before– certainly different from her, and from her family.

She can’t ask mercy. It is too much to ask.

Forgiveness is out of the question. She wouldn’t dishonor him further by suggesting it.

His hand comes down suddenly, grips her shoulder, wrenches her off-balance. She falls sprawling, catches herself; then scoots back a little so that her back is against the flat, hard surface of one of the pedestals. Her creamy robes pool around her. A frond of a plant, unexpectedly beautiful, is within her view. She doesn’t dare look at him. Illogically, his touch thrills her. She wants him to touch her again.

“Do with me as you will, your majesty!” Her voice quivers.

She looks up at his face. He is much too old for her. Everyone agrees on that. Although he is young to rule the galaxy; a mere youth compared to the former Emperor– he is too old for his bride. His face shows his years and the stress of his experience.

There is absolute authority in his eyes, in his posture. The princess at his feet sees no possibility of gentleness. But her body yearns for gentleness from him. She has known him only two days, and that was after two months of being trained by her family to despise him, trained to kill him.

He crouches down to her level. She watches his gleaming boots. Those were left over from his previous officer rank and not exchanged for the foppery of Court. The supple black leather creases at the ankles as he bends. She looks at the expression on his face and shudders. She closes her eyes.

He grips her by the chin, hard. His fingers are made of steel– he wants to hurt her. He shakes her until she opens her eyes. She blinks back tears.

She is not used to the effort of being quiet. She is used to giving commands. This change is not easy, but it is joy.

“Speak, and tell me what I should do with you.”

“I am in your hands, Emperor,” she whispers. She can’t move her chin against his hand. She realizes that there is a double meaning to what she said. She is in his hands, but right now only one hand, and without love in it.

Her shameless body responds to the ungentle touch.

She dares to raise a hand, to caress the back of his.

He jumps back, releasing her, as hastily if he had been burned.

He walks away, turns, looks back at her.

He is off-balance. He doesn’t understand this. She has been unexpected from the beginning. Yesterday, when he discovered her duplicity, her murderous plans, it seemed unbelievable, but the truth of it was right there before him. She tried to kill him, but she failed.

Now he is even more confused by this change in her. Whether killer or not, he had always known that the princess was a proud, arrogant young woman.

“My Emperor,” she says, and at the sudden scorn in his eyes she adds quickly, “You are the Emperor. It is destiny that you rule. I see that now. I didn’t see it before. My family lied to me.”

“Of course,” he says. “They think that that ‘destiny’ belonged to them. It’s your father who should have ruled.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I acknowledge you. I was wrong. If you like, before you kill me, I’ll say it publicly. I’ll explain what happened.”

“You tried to kill me!” he shouts.

“They lied to me,” she says desperately. That might have sounded like an excuse, but she hadn’t meant it to be. She only wants him to understand how much she doesn’t want him to die.

“You still tried to.”

“Yes, Emperor.” She hangs her head, misery in her heart. She did carry out her instructions, or at least she went as far with them as she could, and she will die for it. She will never again see his face, and never hear his voice, and never again be conscious of his breathing only a few paces from her, and feel the marks of his fingers still on her chin. She will die.

He snaps, “What’s changed between yesterday and today? Why all this groveling now?”

She winces. Is she ‘groveling’? Yes, she is. And she doesn’t care. “I love you,” she says. “I have fallen in love with you. I recognize that you are a man who–”

He makes a sudden, angry sound, as if she has pushed him past the limit and he won’t hear another word from her. “You’re trying to save your life.”

“No, Emperor!” she cries, desperate to be believed. “You must kill me! You must! But you must also know it is true that I love you!”

He strides back to her, grabs her hair, already mussed by the guards but still in its elaborate roll, and drags her upwards. She tries to assist, and allows herself to hang from his grip, not struggling. “What you know,” he said, between clenched teeth, “is that I am not as cruel as the old Emperor, and your family. You think you can soften my heart because you’re young and beautiful and I don’t kill children. It is not going to work! …beautiful child,” he adds, with pain in his voice.

She looks at him, wondering. There is pain on his face, too. She has added to the pain, and she becomes even more ashamed.

He goes on, with bitterness in his voice, “The face of an Angel and a virgin body, so they assure me. But the heart of a seductress, as black and cold as your honored mother’s.” He lets go of her hair, and, as limp as she had been making herself, she falls to the floor.

She sees him ready to leave her, and clings to his sleeve. “Don’t leave me, my Emperor!”

“Let me go.” The demand is cold. His voice is frozen.

“Touch me, Emperor.” It is her last plea before he goes, leaving her to see only guards before her execution. “Take me.” He pauses, and with desperation she insists, “I am your bride truly! There is no wrong in it. Must I die a virgin?”

As soon as the words are out she moans in shame, and hangs her head. She wishes she had stayed silent. There is no honor in this begging.

He stops. She looks up, and gasps at the rage on his face. She doesn’t know him. He is a stranger. She doesn’t know how much she can push him. Conquest of planets is within his limits, but she senses that he is already beyond what he can take from her.

His touch is cruel as he grips her shoulders and turns her, pushing her into one of the decorative pillars and bracing her against it. She turns her head a little to get back from him.

There is nowhere to go, and her attempt is only reflexive. She meets his kiss, and though it is as hard as every other way he’s touched her, it is also as passion-inspired, and her body explodes with desire for him. Her soft lips are crushed under his, and she is panting for him when he stops.

He says, “Do you think you would enjoy me?” and he ignores her whispered assent. “You will not. I could have loved you. If that was what you wanted, you destroyed all possibility of it, all by yourself. I will not be manipulated by you now.”

She is still panting, parted lips wet, eyes half-closed.

An enchanted Angel, truly.

In agony the Emperor kisses her again, longer this time, and gradually, gentler. When he realizes what he is doing he wrenches himself away. “Cold-hearted bitch,” he mutters. He feels that she is melting into his hands, so he makes his grip painful as he half-carries, half-pushes her through the double doors to his bedroom. She is right. She should not die a virgin.

“Emperor!” she gasps in hope, as she sees where she is.

“No!” he shouts, and slaps her face. He has never been in the habit of striking women. It isn’t very hard.

It’s hard enough to make her reel and stumble, and she puts her hands to her face.

He masters himself. A moment alone, and he is determined. This is only the pinnacle of the pain. Getting to this place has not been easy or pleasant, any of it. He had known there would be trials, betrayals, but they were more bitter than he had anticipated. And this beautiful child was the worst of them.

His motivation to be Emperor was all generosity, with self-sacrifice in it, too. He could not in good conscience, while he had any choice about the matter, leave the inhabitants of a thousand systems to the tender mercies of this girl’s father.

He will not leave himself in the daughter’s power, either.

He knew it would have been a mistake to have her as Empress, no matter the political advantage of outward peace between him and her family, and the approval of those human nobles to whom bloodline mattered. He knew the danger of being so closely associated with this family. He had heard about this girl’s mother.

Then he had seen her. So young, pale, desirable, and he had been lost. Her face, dewy and ripe as a perfect fruit on a vine. Her body moving beneath her heavy robes, seeming to him, as it must seem to every man who sees it, as an invitation, a plea. Her eyes shining with interest and promise.

Her lips, now red and swollen from his brutal kiss, tasting of water and honey and tears and herself, trembling with her every breath, trembling with anticipation for him.

For him– or at least, so she makes it seem.

He hits her again, to crush the softer emotions he feels in himself. And again, harder this time, and he looks down at her, crumpled down against the bed, her perfect face marred with red blotches and partially hidden from him.

He will be all right now. He will get through this.

The girl presses her hand to her face, gripping a fistful of bedclothes hard with the other hand, and thinks: Fool. The fool that she was making of herself. She could fight if she had heart to. She could do better than this. But like a cowering dog, she just wouldn’t fight.

Her poor heart cries out– Emperor, touch me again!

At least he has not sent her back to the dungeon. She is in his bedroom, where she belongs. She waits, controlling her breathing.

“Take your clothes off,” he says.

His voice is wrong. This is not him. She glances up. She was right, he is strained to the limit.

She doesn’t care. She hurts, and he hurts. Just for now, they are in this hurt together.

Would he really take her? She had thought that beyond him. From knowing him for this one horrible day-and-a-half, she thought him above this.

She wants him anyway. She moves a little.

“Take your clothes off.” His voice is hard and cold as stone. He stands back from her, watching her.

She senses danger. She doesn’t know what he will do to her once she is naked. It may not be pleasant.

It will be pleasure, pure pleasure.

She stands up, cautiously. She is conscious of her throbbing face. It must look awful and she is ashamed to have him see it. Her hair is mussed. She has been searched by the guards, and only the rudiments of her robes, without the magnificent outer dress, returned to her. She feels ashamed.

She has seen something important, right there on his dresser. It is the black velvet bag containing her bridal jewelry. She wonders why he kept it here. Why would he want it in his sight? It is what caused her downfall: they found one of the poison injectors in it. She was searched and another was found on her wrist.

They have been lax indeed– there is still another in the clothes they left her. It is sewn into one of the seams beneath her breast.

She removes her robe as gracefully as she can. She is conscious of the display of herself, and vividly conscious of the man watching her. He stands aloof, magnificent in his simple garments. He has had them tailored similar to the style of his previous military uniform. It suits him perfectly. He makes the courtiers look like overdressed women. At first it was easy to tell who was the ‘old guard’ of the new Emperor’s faithful officers, when those were the only ones striding around in tall black boots. Later it became harder, as with this man’s ascendancy all the younger bucks immediately adopted the new “military” fashion.

Her clothes are laid neatly on a chair. She adds more garments slowly until she is naked. With every move she is exquisitely aware of her body. She is showing it to him, showing him that it is his to do with as he likes.

Before standing straight to indicate that she’s finished, she moves to pick up the black velvet bag. She senses the Emperor’s alertness. He moves a little, ready for a sudden attack from her. She could be dangerous to him. She doesn’t need superior strength or skill. She only needs to scratch his skin with one of her needles.

But there is no needle in the black bag any longer, and she has already laid aside the one hidden in the clothes– it is lost in a welter of fabric and there is not trust enough between them that she can confess its presence to him.

The jewelry is all that is left in the bag. She catches a glance of her white body in the mirror. It is smooth and beautiful, with only light creases from her heavily-padded supports. She hopes her appearance pleases the Emperor. She clips the diamond cascades to her ears. They sparkle wonderfully; so that from a pale, frightened prisoner, she just became glamorous again. She has only her fingers with which to comb out her hair, but just this morning it was brushed to a sheen and it is still acceptable. It hangs in waves to her waist, a perfumed, shining dark mass. The diamonds for her neck are only a slim chain, snug against her throat. They wouldn’t be worn in public. They are designed to display her body to her husband. The nipple clips hurt a little, and she fumbles putting them on. But she knows he is watching her, and her adrenaline drowns out the pain. She clips them on. She feels better with diamonds cascading from her erect nipples, quivering with every move, throwing flashes of brilliance into his eyes.

The last piece is bindings for her wrists. But they are only decorative. A girl can easily break through the fragile links. She doesn’t dare to kneel and hand them to him, as she traditionally would. It would be an insult to assume he trusts her that much. She leaves the bindings in a sparkling heap on the dresser.

She turns to him. The cascades on her nipples shake with her movements. She keeps her head down, but she sees that his expression is hard, cynical– perhaps he would make a cruel remark, if he trusted himself to speak. His hand comes up, and she melts with joy. He is going to touch her. Really touch her.

No– the hand moves fast, hard, catching her along her cheek again, wrenching a cry of pain from her and knocking her sideways. One of her ear clips makes a tiny clatter as it hits the bare floor. She instinctively reaches for it, then stops herself.

“Pick it up,” he says, his voice cold and mocking. “Put it back on.”

She does so. Tears fall from her eyes as she stands and faces him again. Willpower is just enough to keep her erect, ready for him, with her hands behind her. At every move he makes, she flinches.

He takes off his belt and holster. She sees that and her eyes widen. Surely he can’t kill her here, in his bedroom, while she is naked. To kill her in the prison because of her crimes is justice, but this is something else. If the public hears of this it will respond badly to him. Right now they love him because he is one of them, ordinary and honest, and she would not wish to endanger that.

She thinks of how she might phrase a persuasive protest, then realizes how foolish she is. If he was going to shoot her, he would draw the weapon, not take off the holster. The holster goes on the dresser; the empty belt curls around the Emperor’s hand.

Then she is more frightened than of being shot. The belt is heavy, thick, tough leather. He contemplates the buckle, then grips it, and winds a little of the excess length of the belt around his hand.

“Those are pretty,” he says, nodding to the diamonds on her breasts. “Take them off and put them in my pocket.”

It takes her a moment to move. Another moment’s delay, she senses, would be fatal. She carefully unclips her nipples and steps to her Emperor. All the daring in her body is just barely enough to let her touch the chest pocket of his tunic. She unbuttons it. Her heart races, her body twists with desire as she feels the warmth of his body under her fingers. She drops the diamond clips into his pocket, and buttons it again.

“I love you, Emperor,” she says resignedly. “Do as you like to me. Do what you need to do.”

She is only a step back when he swipes his hand around faster than she can even see. The black leather belt hits both her nipples. She is unprepared. There is a moment of uncomprehending, then she screams, clutching her breasts with both hands, bending double with pain. Tears fall. After the first scream, a whimper lingers in her throat.

He is unmerciful. “Move your hands.”

“Yes, Emperor!” she screams, desperate. She moves her hands, but self-preservation instinct brings them up again at his next strike, and one of her fingers is caught instead. She cries out at that, and grabs her smarting finger with the other hand. She looks up, embarrassed, conscious of failure.

He is impatient. He strides to her, turns her around, half-throws her face-down on the bed. With his hand on her shoulders, he brings the strap down on her. She gasps as the pain shoots through her. She knows he must feel her cry through his hand. His hand goes to her mouth, and she accepts the covering. She presses her face into his skin, kissing him a little, licking him, but the strap hits her bottom a few more times, expressly to make her stop that. She stops, and presses her face into his hand as she is supposed to, quivering and weeping with pain as the belt hits her again and again.

She doesn’t cry out. She can smell his skin, and she grips the bedspread with her fists. The strap comes down with a ripe slapping sound. It hurts beyond reason. Her tender flesh heats up. The strokes are intense. She realizes that his leg is within her reach, and she touches him. She feels the hard muscles there, and cries out once, loudly, a wail of pain and desire.

“Don’t touch me,” he says impatiently.

But he is touching her. She is the center of his attention as he deliberately causes her pain, and her pain is pleasing to him. Her agonized, tear-soaked gasps are healing to his soul. Knowing this, she grips the bedspread and endures her punishment.

She is aware of the slippery feeling between her legs, the delicious heat from her bottom, and her aching emptiness, and little else. It takes her a moment to realize that he has stopped beating her.

“Another!” she gasps. “More! Please, Emperor!”

His hand touches her bottom instead. It is a gentle touch, but it makes her gasp with fresh agony. “I can’t do this,” he confesses. His voice sounds broken.

“Yes, you can, Emperor,” she pleads. “Do what you need to do. Do to me what you want, what makes you feel better!”

“This isn’t it.” He speaks to her as if she is his confidante.

She turns over. She can scarcely move. Her aching skin feels as if it will break. She looks at his face, tired, over-stressed, the face of a man powerful and capable of anything, and also that of a broken man needing her reassurance.

“Oh it was him alright. He didn’t seem the least perturbed into bumping into me and even asked about you. By the way he was wearing a ring.”

Catherine hung up the phone after promising to get together with Rachel before too long. She stared out of her office window for a long time. Then the lie came back to haunt her, the one Daniel seem to have discovered in her. She had been dominated once before and to her dismay knew she enjoyed it. She stood up and put on her jacket and stepped out of her office.

“I’ll be out for an hour or so.”

Bev looked up in concern.

“Bad news?”

Catherine hesitated before answering, “No, not really … something about a childhood friend.”

*****

On Sunday he phoned her, telling her how nice it was in Bermuda and how he wished she could join him. She found herself squeezing her phone as he talked, and then tried to compose herself.

“Sorry, it would be nice but I’ve too much to do here.”

“I’ll be returning on Wednesday. Would you be opposed to going to a concert on Friday? Light classics by the local symphony.”

“Oh, yes. That would be nice.”

She almost started to stammer and became annoyed with herself at her lack of composure.

Then with more firmness in her voice, “It would be fairly formal, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. See you on Friday at six.”

She spent the next two evenings looking for the right dress to wear, deciding on a red dress with a low back. She needed something a little more aggressive to give herself confidence in dealing with him.

‘So far,’ she thought, ‘he is winning all the battles.’

The concert was excellent and during the intermission he introduced her to two other couples he knew. One couple was young and seemed a bit anxious when talking to him. The other couple was an older man and a younger blonde woman. The young woman, Tracie, eyed her a moment as if appraising her. She then slipped her hand inside Albert’s arm and gave her a smile. Apparently she had passed some sort of test.

Catherine excused herself to go the washroom to check her hair and reapply her lipstick and when she returned she found Daniel alone waiting for her. The crowd had thinned out as the intermission came to an end.

“Oh, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“That’s alright. The others were quite impressed with you.”

“Really?”

She decided to tease him a bit.

“I liked Albert; I thought about dumping you for him.”

She turned to enter the auditorium and suddenly felt a slap on her bottom, twice very quickly. She turned to give him a grin, glad she had made a bit jealous. He gave her a wink in return.

After the concert he took her for drinks and then back to her apartment. This time he went up with her for a nightcap, though he had an appointment in the morning and told her he wouldn’t be staying long. He gave her compliments on her dress and as the elevator rose to the twelfth floor began to kiss and fondle her. Initially she tried to slow him down but as he kissed her neck she relented, dropping her arms down to rest on the handrail that ran along the perimeter of the car.

His hand undid the top clasp of her dress at the back of her neck and she felt the spaghetti straps fall from her shoulders.

“No, not here. Someone will see us.”

Her protest came out in a weak whisper. He gently pulled the top of her dress down, slowly baring her breasts.

“Daniel, please.”

As she made a half-hearted effort to hold up her top, he gently but firmly pushed her hands down. She clung to top of her dress, holding it at her stomach as he circled his hand around her waist.

“Please, not here.”

Her words belied her feelings as she leaned towards him, knowing he was reaching for the last item holding the dress up at her hips.

“Yes Catherine, I must insist.”

He then unzipped the small zipper at her waist and took a step back. Daniel extended his right hand and pushed down on the fabric she held in her fingers.

“Trust me, you will enjoy the experience.”

Catherine took a deep inward breath as the zipper was undone. She wondered whether she should resist, knew she didn’t want to. The thought of being almost naked in the elevator was tantalizing, though she still wasn’t sure whether she enjoyed or had an aversion for him being in control, and he was definitely in control now.

“Release your dress now.”

The command was spoken with quiet confidence. She found herself nodding and slowly opened her hands as she dropped her arms, allowing the fabric to slide down. It momentarily hung at her hips and then fell to her feet, leaving her nude except for her red thong panties and shoes. She felt erotic in the small elevator car wearing almost nothing as Daniel stood back assessing her. Somewhere in her mind she thought she should be a bit outraged at what he did, stripping her in a public place and then casually evaluating her as if she was a new purchase. Instead her body gave her desires away as she grew warm and her cheeks became flushed. She knew her nipples were erect and engorged and hoped her panties didn’t show the wetness she felt. She watched his eyes as she stepped out of her dress, bent down to pick it up.

He didn’t break eye contact, reaching over to take her dress and then her purse from her. She didn’t resist as she gave up her dress and purse, trusting him to make sure she didn’t come to harm when it came time to step out of the elevator. The elevator came to a shuddering stop and the doors rumbled opened. Catherine felt vulnerable. She speculated that if anyone was in the hallway saw her they would see her exposed, and without her dress or the apartment keys in her purse, she now wouldn’t be able to cover herself up or run to her apartment. She looked up at him, knowing he represented her only protection now.

He escorted her out of the elevator, pausing at the sliding doors.

“Ready?”

“Yes, but I’m …” she was going to add scared but that wasn’t accurate, “I’m worried someone will see me.”

That was partly true. Excited was more like it but she was not going to admit that to him. In a way it would be thrilling for someone to see her this way, to see her exposed and so dependent on him. He walked casually with her with her hand inside his arm to her door. Her heart was pounding from the excitement of the danger of being seen by her neighbours, his slow pace was making her more anxious by the second.

“If someone comes …” she giggled nervously, “I don’t know whether I should scream or run.”

“Neither. We’ll just continue our walk to your apartment. Otherwise it would be as if you were guilty of poor judgement.”

“Having you strip me in an elevator was good judgement?”

He stopped her in the hallway and turned her to face him.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? The danger of being seen by others undressed.”

Catherine swallowed before answering, glancing down at her own bare breasts as she spoke.

“Yes. I suppose so.”

“Good, then we have nothing to feel guilty about do we?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

She paused before speaking again.

“But could we start walking again?”

“Of course.”

They stopped at the door and he took his time finding her key in her purse before opening it for her. She knew he was testing her with his deliberate slowness and she responded by standing in the hallway for several seconds after the door was opened before casually walking in.

The door closed behind her.

“Daniel if someone had seen me … ”

“They would have seen a beautiful woman.”

He kissed her again, slowly but then with increasing passion as he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

“How about that drink now?”

She was breathing hard and a little disappointed the kiss had ended and not immediately led to Daniel taking her right then. Still, he was the one in control and she knew he was going to decide when.

“You want me to serve you like this?”

She giggled out of apprehension after failing to sound annoyed.

He undid his tie and then sat down on the loveseat.

“No, take off your panties too.”

“My panties too? And if I don’t?”

“Then there will be consequences. Discipline.”

She looked at the thin smile on his face and didn’t know if he was joking or not. Still, she had gone this far and the panties weren’t hiding much anyway and it would seem it would lead to sex faster this way, something she now desperately wanted. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pulled the thong off. She was glad she had shaved in the morning, leaving only a thin strip of hair. She casually went to the small table bar and poured two glasses of red wine, knowing his eyes were watching her. She carefully walked backed to where he sat and bent forward to hand him his drink, feeling very susceptible to his wants. She then slipped off her shoes and sat next to him on the loveseat.

She curled next to him after finishing her own glass, resting her head on his shoulder. She had to ask the question from the moment he had mentioned the word.

“Daniel, what kind of discipline were you talking about?”

“Nothing too hard for you to take. Are you interested in finding out?”

She remembered the quick slaps on her cheeks at the concert earlier. She lifted up her head and looked right at him.

“Now? Exactly how serious are you about this?”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered her.

“Very serious.”

Then in a smooth motion he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her over his lap, using one arm around her to hold her against him.

“What are you doing?”

Catherine didn’t resist as she slipped over his lap and used her arms to hold her head above the floor. She found herself suddenly in a vulnerable position, giggling, as she squirmed a bit on his lap though not seriously.

“Daniel what are you doing?” she repeated.

It was a rhetorical question. She already knew the answer and knew he was going to spank her. How hard and long the spanking might be the only real question now.

“I’m going to give you a bit of discipline.”

She twisted her head up to see him poised to smack her bare bottom.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

She knew the answer was likely to have the opposite effect. She wiggled some more in his grasp and kicked her legs a bit for effect, knowing it only made him even more powerful in his control. She considered and recognized it was a humbling experience for her- for someone so use to being in control and making men grovel. She felt the sharp sting as the palm of his hand struck her cheek.

She felt she should make at least one more attempt at resistance to the spanking and tried to cover her bum with one over hands. She wasn’t surprised when her merely folded his hand around her wrist and held it at the small of her back, effectively pinning her. He continued the spanking, slow even strokes, switching cheeks occasionally. It stung her a bit but she was determined she was going to endure her spanking without crying out, to prove to him how strong she was.

He paused for a moment and then struck again, harder this time. She squirmed and kicked her legs with a bit more strenuously but he held her fast with one hand and administered another smack.

There was little she could do to stop him. She had seen pictures of women being spanked before on the Internet, wondering what possessed women to allow such an act. She now knew it was difficult to stop a man determined to do so, and in reality was a bit of fun, strangely sexual to her. She couldn’t resist trying to look around behind her to see him administer the spanking, the sight being extremely erotic to her. As he struck harder the spanking had gone from fun to just starting to hurt her ass. He struck again and it became too much for her.

“Ow! Damnit that’s starting to hurt. Please stop; you got me, you win.”

Her voice went from a shout to a whimper.

Daniel stopped and slowly massaged her cheeks.

“How did that feel?”

“It hurt a bit, thank you very much.”

“But you enjoyed it?”

Silence and then, “I guess a little.”

“Maybe a lot?”

She waited a second before answering, not wanting to give him the truth.

“Okay, maybe more than just a little.”

She wished he would take her now;she was very ready for him.

“Do you like having your hands held behind your back?”

“It’s okay.”

He suddenly smacked her cheek again twice.

“Only okay? Tell me the truth. Do you like your hands being held behind your back?”

“Okay, okay. I like it. Okay? I like being held helpless like this.”

Catherine closed her eyes. She suddenly recognized the truth; that she liked being held helpless by him, especially when as she was naked in body and mind.

“Good. I want you to be honest with me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“I find the image of a naked woman being spanked over a man’s lap very stimulating. Don’t you?”

She stayed quiet for several seconds and then heard her voice answer, a bit surprised at her own answer.

“Yes, I guess I do.”

He eased her up back on the couch.

“Do you trust me?”

Catherine nodded slowly. Her bum was tingling from the spanking and she knew her cheeks were red as she rubbed them. She considered while she did trust him, she now wasn’t sure if she trusted her own feelings.

“Yes, I trust you.”

“Good. I needed to hear that.”

Then he ignored her attempt at another question and kissed her on her lips, neck and then breasts. She moaned softly. She tried to undo his shirt buttons but he took her hands and held them together with one of his above her head, pushing her on her back on the loveseat.

“I really can’t stay long tonight.”

She decided she wasn’t going to beg for him to stay, and that she wasn’t allowed to make demands on him. She looked up at her hands held above her head.

“So this is it for this evening? No more surprises?”

He chuckled. Daniel released her hands and took off his tie. She continued to lie back with her hands resting above her head as he took off his tie. He reached over and carefully wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes. She lifted up her head and he made a loose knot behind her head.

He kissed her on the lips and then her neck and breasts. He played his tongue over her nipples causing her to arch her back and then ran his tongue down her stomach. Using his hands he pushed her legs apart, tasting her. Then he played with her with his fingers and spoke quietly to her, his voice like a hypnotist as he urged her to let go.

“I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Let’s say you’re looking at pictures of women in bondage, maybe on the computer.”

“Hmm, okay.”

She wasn’t certain what he was leading up to, and wondered if he was merely checking if she did in fact look at pictures of bondage.

“Their faces; do you prefer the women to look frightened, nervous, pleased or maybe surprised what has happened to them?”

Catherine locked her fingers together and kept them above her head, imagining invisible bonds holding them fast.

“I don’t know.”

She thought about her answer for a moment.

“Nervous and surprised. Mostly surprised I guess. Why?”

She found herself in ecstasy, revelling in his absolute control of her as she shifted her hips towards him, yearning for release.

“I was wondering how you might see yourself in such a situation.”

“That’s hardly a fair comparison.”

“Maybe. But it’s time for me to go.”

She groaned.

“Please. Please don’t stop,” she whispered.

When he didn’t respond she reached for the tie to pull it off.

“No, leave it on.”

She heard him rise and walk across the room after giving her a kiss. She heard the apartment door open and quietly close behind him. Catherine lay in the darkness, wondering how long she should leave the blindfold on. It was odd; she was testing herself more than he was testing her. But she felt he knew that she was laying naked with the blindfold on, his control on her going deeper. Her thoughts went back to the elevator when he stepped back and told her ‘I must insist’ and she relented to his wishes.

He had taken control of her, walking her slowly to the apartment. It was then she knew he was going to do something to her; and that she was going to let him. The spanking was not really a surprise after that, especially after she brought up the subject of discipline herself she realized. She replayed being stripped – no she recalled, told to strip – in the elevator. Then the spanking, and the feeling he had the right to do so and the power and strength to do it again when he should choose. That thought excited her- that he could spank her again when he wanted to. She reached with her hand between her legs, masturbating as she thought of his tongue on her body. Then as she neared her climax she found herself back in the tool shed, fantasying tied naked with the rope to the post. Across from her was Rachel also tied up naked to the other post. Instead of Alex, Daniel was there, touching her body and making her come as her cousin Rachel looked on in amusement. Catherine rested several minutes after she finished masturbating and then finally pulled the tie off, clutching it to her breasts. She felt angry, helpless, aroused and oddly satisfied. Confused she went to bed.

*****

Catherine rose late the next day, replaying the night before in her head as she ate breakfast. She wondered how it came to be that he had his way so far, shocked that she had been almost naked when she left the elevator; vulnerable and at his mercy. That she could blame on the drinks that were still giving her a slight headache. What she was reluctant to admit that he could discipline her, control her so easily. The thought of him punishing her now didn’t worry her as much as it intrigued her. She went to her computer to check her e-mail and then searched for a bondage site. She looked at the women’s faces as they were tied up wondering which one might reflect her expression.

He called her the following afternoon. She found herself cradling the phone as he spoke, his voice holding her attention.

“Unfortunately I have made a prior arrangement to go with a few business people to go to the game tonight. I can’t get out of it. But on Friday I have silent auction to go to. I was wondering if you would like to attend? It’s a bit of a dry affair I’m afraid but the meal will be good and there might be few interesting items to bid on.”

She readily agreed. “What time does it start?”

“Unfortunately because it’s a weekday it’ll start around six. I know that won’t leave you much time to get ready so how about if I pick you up from work?”

“Sure. I’m on the twentieth floor of the Bell Tower. Do I need to bring a change of clothes? I usually wear a skirt and jacket to work.”

“No, it’s not really a formal event. That sounds fine.”

“Good. Call me soon.”

He called her the next day, inquiring what she did the previous night. She had gone over to one of her sisters’ place, denying there was anything new in her life. It would be too difficult to explain her relationship with him without revealing what they did on their dates, so she let on she was just busy at work.

Friday came and she wore a slightly shorter than normal skirt to work and instead of a blouse wore a camisole under her blue suit. She took along a second pair of shoes to change into with a higher heel with thin straps.

Shortly after five Daniel was escorted to her office by the receptionist who then bid them good night. The office was now almost vacant except for a few late workers in the opposite end of the room. Daniel pushed her door closed behind him and then gave her a kiss.

“Hmm, I missed you.”

She gave him a hug.

“Excuse me I’ve got to change my shoes. Do I look okay?”

He studied her for a few seconds.

“Very nice, but perhaps I can suggest a couple of changes.”

“Please.”

She quickly worked her hair with her fingers.

“Are you wearing pantyhose?”

Tags: Fetish, Story