Birthday Girl

The first part of this story features safeword discussion. If you want to get straight to the pain, start from 'sadist self'. Hope you enjoy it!

*****

I stopped the car on the driveway, turned off the headlights, took off my seatbelt. She didn't touch hers. I hoped she didn't think her sudden obedience, her sudden desire to wait for my command, would make me go any easier on her.

"What's the safeword?"

She inhaled audibly. We hadn't discussed safewords in years now - if I was asking her to confirm that she wouldn't forget it, I must have something beyond our usual limits in mind. In the meager light from the streetlamps outside I saw her try to school the fear from her face. She didn't do a very good job.

"Maria."

It was my sister's name, an accidental souvenir from years of living in our tiny home town. Everyone knew each other, of course, and even when we moved into our own place family members were only a few minutes' walk away. Unexpected visits were the norm, but Maria was probably the worst offender when it came to dropping by unannounced.

The first time it happened was a fluke. It was a content Saturday afternoon when we had gone straight from sharing a shower to canoodling in the living room and I was squeezing my fingernails into the tender flesh of my sub's gorgeous freshly-washed breast beneath her open blouse. She always says her position in the armchair while I stood over her let her feel small and cosy and happily trapped. On this particular day it also allowed her the sight, reflected in the mirror over the mantlepiece, of Maria coming up the garden path.

My girlfriend's eyes widened. "Maria!" she gasped through teeth gritted with painful pleasure. I drew my hand away as if burned and whipped my head around to look at the mirror just as the door clicked open.

"Guys? I got extra breadsticks at the store if you want some!"

I dragged my hand through my hair and went to deal with Maria while my sub made herself presentable. The mood was wrecked, but when my sister had left we cuddled up in front of a movie and laughed about it.

Since we agreed that we didn't want to mention Maria during scenes and we had to warn each other about her arrival so often, her name gradually replaced our traffic light safewords. It might seem strange to make her name a part of our play like that, but it's always made sense to me. We love her, and we made her name mean safety. When we needed to safeword out, we said her name and it meant "I trust you to stop now".

And it's not like Maria ever needs to know, anyway.

We live in the city now for the sake of our careers, but since we haven't had to halt a scene in that time it's never seemed noticeably out of place. Tonight's punishment was going to get rougher for her than it had ever been before, and there was a chance some of my plans could damage her physically, so we needed to be sure we had an out.

"Say it again."

"Maria."

"Again."

A fractional hesitation. When we had been starting out in kink, I always made her repeat the word three times. Her reprieve was coming to an end. "Maria." It was almost a whisper.

"Good girl." The end of the ritual. I always reassured her after she needed to tap out of a scene. She needs it most then: a reminder that we aren't only dominant and submissive, but two people who love each other. It helped me too. She wasn't a good girl tonight, but I love her anyway. I love her, so I have to help her be good when she needs it. That's what I had to keep in mind - my anger would help push me through her begging, help me stay merciless when mercy would do more harm than good, but I was punishing her because I wanted to help her do better.

Not that I don't like hurting her too. It was kind of a win-win situation for my loving sadist self.

"Go into the house. Close all the curtains. Get on your knees in the living room, facing the window."

She undid her seatbelt and left the car. I needed to let her have a head start if she was to stew on her knees so I just watched her as she went.

From where I sat, I had a great view of her ass sheathed in her black silk skirt. She's quite trim, my girl, 5'6" in her bare feet, with long brown hair that reaches to her waist. She had worn it loose for our dinner date and it shone to match her diamond earrings as they each caught the light of a passing car. Her ass is great, a sweet curve that balances her C cups perfectly.

Her ass was also going to be taking most of the punishment tonight.

I smiled when the door shut and the upstairs curtains were shut in a few seconds. She must have been running to obey me despite her heels, hoping to appease me by belated good behaviour. That she had kept her heels on I didn't doubt; I hadn't given her permission to remove them.

The rest of the curtains I could see were closed soon enough. When I thought she was settled in the living room, I turned the car radio on quietly and listened to one song from her birthday playlist. As it happened, the song next queued up to play was Queen's "Under Pressure". I couldn't hold back a small laugh at its appropriateness. My girl must have been sweating by now.

When the last note had faded away I clicked the radio off and headed into the house. I was a little surprised to find the hallway dark and very surprised to find the living room dark, but her twitch when I turned the light on was awfully satisfying. Of course! I hadn't given her permission to use the lights. I was almost impressed despite myself.

I took a moment to admire her again. Her knees were tucked neatly beneath her and the heels of her shoes dug lightly into her ass cheeks where she rested on them. She didn't fidget at all, keeping her head bowed as though she was praying to the side of our old sofa.

When I had looked my fill I left the room. It's my luxury in these situations not to rush, so I took ny time heading to my wardrobe and digging out the box that was to have been her birthday present: a gold cube which contained a remote control vibrating egg and butterfly clit stimulator set. The egg had my initials on it in raised lettering.

Once back in the living room, I tossed the box on the floor in front of her from where I stood behind her. She jumped.

"Want to see how tonight could have gone?"

"No, sir." She shook her head slightly and her soft hair brushed audibly across the scratchy fabric of her top.

Her answer made me want to put her over my knee immediately. She had disappointed me with her misbehaviour at the restaurant, and I was going to be damned if she didn't feel the sting of disappointment too. "That's a shame. Open the box."

Her fingers were slow but she did as she was told.

"Take out your gift."

She picked up the butterfly first, but I waited until both pieces were in her hands before I spoke my point aloud.

"You see what I give you when you're good?"

There would be tears in her eyes by now. "Yes, sir." Her shoulders were low and there was a weepy shake in her voice.

"Now put them back in the box." I finally stepped into her line of sight to pick up the gift. "You aren't getting this tonight. If you don't prove that you can behave like a nice young lady instead of a spoiled brat, you might never see it again." I nudged her under the chin with my forefinger and forced her to meet my gaze. "When I get back, I want you undressed. Take your jewellery and heels off as well."

I think she understood me: bad girls don't deserve to feel pretty. Either way, she immediately stood to undress.

Once again I took my time heading upstairs. I put the present back and grabbed a hair tie from her bedside table. When I returned, she was kneeling in the same spot, naked and gorgeous and facing away from the doorway. As a result she actually yelped when I grabbed her hair in one fist and wound the tie around it, yanking it through twice until a tight ponytail was gathered high on her scalp.

Yelped, but didn't try to pull away. A very positive sign of submission. She was prepared to let me do whatever I was going to do. I smiled where she couldn't see.

"Over the side of the chair."

She scrambled to obey. This was familiar at least - that armchair has featured in so many moments of her agony that she's been known to get wet just from sitting in it. Needless to say, it's usually my chair when we're relaxing or have guests over.

But it means she knew the drill. In seconds her feet were barely touching the floor, her ass was over the broad arm of the chair, and her head was pillowed on her folded arms which were touching the opposite side of the chair.

The position is perfect. Not only does it make her ass a great target, it leaves her legs free to kick and forces her weight onto her tits. The first time we tried it she pushed her face into the fabric to muffle her yells but I soon set her straight. I love hearing her scream.

This time she had no idea what I had in store for her. Usually it's something harsh but simple. The cane, the paddle, the crop, and on a few occasions the kiss of the candle's wax have all paid their dues here while I stood close to one side and played conductor, but tonight she had earned something a little more special.

It always pays to start with what you know, though, and I felt like putting my hands on her.

The jiggle of her ass after the first spank had my cock throbbing in my pants. I didn't let myself get into a rhythm. Every strike took her by surprise, and every strike left a patch of red blooming on her butt until she was marked from the small of her back to the tops of her legs. The tenth spank hit the junction of her ass cheeks and the crease of her thighs, dangerously close to her pussy. She screamed for the first time at that one.

On my silent count of fourteen she had abandoned any hope of staying stoic and her legs jerked away from the floor on each smack. After the twenty-fifth, I showed mercy to both of us for a moment, resting my aching hand on the hot skin and palming my cock through the fabric of my pants.

She was sobbing hopelessly by then. She must have known I wasn't done with her, because she didn't even raise her head to look at me. I felt a surge of power that brought my anger rushing back to the surface, and her right leg twitched when I dug my nails into her heated satiny ass. Another swat with my free hand. Four more on one cheek while I scratched up and down the other.

A plan had been brewing since she had opened her mouth for the last ice cube at the restaurant. I ran my hand (still tingling from impact) gently up from her ass to cup the back of her neck, where I tightened my fingers and ground her face into the fabric.

"Ready for your real punishment?"

***

From her vantage point in the bathroom wicker chair she must have thought I had gone crazy, or else forgotten that she was still owed some pain. A bath is something we do for aftercare, washing each other as reassurance that whatever just happened was okay, using bubble bath or a bath bomb to help us both calm down.

Maybe it was a little too mean to turn the bath from a place of comfort to a place of torment, but I didn't particularly care about being too mean. She deserved to be hurt.

Steam was starting to fill the room as the tub filled with water, and I had so far only ordered her to drink a glass of cold water that I pressed into her hand. She finished it when the tub was almost half full and I made her drink another. Only a few sips into her third glass, the bath had finished running and I turned off the water.

The elbow test would be too obvious but I dipped my hand into the water as I leaned over to the faucets. It was too hot to be comfortable, of course, but I knew she could last a few minutes in it without taking real damage.

And if keeping her hydrated would fill her bladder in time for the next part of the evening, that suited me.

I ordered her to stay put and finish her water before I got back, then went downstairs to get a water bottle. Call me a stickler but I always worry about spillages when I'm punishing her, and anyway, I have no desire to get broken glass anywhere.

Back upstairs, and she had finished her water. When I held my left hand out to help her stand, my bowing posture a mockery of chivalry, she looked confused but knew better than to question me.

Her confusion didn't last long. When I had pulled her across the small space between chair and tub she obediently raised her leg and dipped her foot in the burning hot water. The squeal she let out was louder than any noise she had made during her spanking.

I tightened my grip on her hand and wrapped my right arm around her waist to keep her where I wanted her. "Get in the tub right now or I swear to God, I'll force you in." To emphasise my point I twisted my right hand into the end of her ponytail and pulled it tight, straight down towards her ass crack. Her head strained backwards and the expression of fear on her face was delicious.

She took a deep breath and lowered her foot into the tub before bringing her other into the scorching water - I had let go of her hair to allow her to hurt herself for me - and took her sweet time trying to acclimate to the water. I counted to ten before I spoke up.

"Time to sit down now. Let's see how much redder that ass can get."

I knew she could only spend a few minutes in the water before she started to get dizzy enough that she wouldn't be any fun to torture, but I would wait to start my count until she was laying down like a good little lobster.

It took a full minute, but she struggled through the pain and ended up on her back. The whimper she released when the smooth curve of her butt touched the water sounded like a ringing endorsement: good job, dominant, you're teaching this rude girl the error of her ways and she's never going to forget it.

I let her hang there for a few seconds. By then she was supporting her own weight with her hands on each side of the bath, and though her body blocked a proper view I knew that the painful water must be lapping at the back of her labia. Once I had the time to wonder if this was stimulating her at all, I placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and pushed her down.

Her elbow buckled slightly and she splashed into the water with a thump. She wailed, low and miserable, and drew her arms into the water. The rest went quickly. I was surprised by how little hesitation she showed before lowering her torso and letting the water rush over her tits, but I guess it made sense.

The heat on her clit alone would be difficult to focus past, but with even the relatively mild spanking I'd given her it must have felt like her ass was being shredded. No wonder she couldn't spare the energy to worry about those beautiful nipples, however much the weight of her body had rubbed them against the chair.

I didn't want her to jerk back and drown so I opted to draw her negligent attention back to her tits by pulling rather than squeezing. When I gripped her left nipple between forefinger and thumb I didn't even know if she noticed. She was still crying, still focused on the agony of her naughty, rude ass, and her tears were mingling with the bath water.

Two sets of ten twist-tugs later, both nipples red as roses on her skin that was splotchy from the water anyway, she had gone quiet. Her eyes were open but they had stopped pleading with me after I had used my nails on that seventh twist. She was probably trying to breathe through the pain.

I pulled the plug and let the water start to drain around her, but I helped her out of the bath and into a warm towel before she could start to shiver.

That would come later, and only when I was certain she was aware enough to appreciate it.