This is a story about a guy I met on Lit. We traded messages for couple months and got really close. He was heavily into canes, but never had done it. I do have experience with these little bastards, so we talked about it a lot. The idea was to RP this scenario together, but that relationship fell apart, so, I am doing this on my own, writing both parts.
Just in case it is not obvious, everybody in this story is way over 18.
*****
-- Annie --
Few years ago we bought a small farmhouse in the middle of the cornfields. It was built in the early 1900s, looked very dated, but solid enough that I thought I could restore it on my own. For the next two years we spent most of our weekends there - kids driving a small ATV, my husband working the garden, and me stripping, sanding, finishing and otherwise bringing house back to life. By now it's all finished and in the summers we spend a lot of time here.
But right now it is January, nobody comes here in winter at all. Empty fields are covered with snow, it is very quiet.
Today is the day we will meet for the first time. You have a conference in a city three hours away, it ends today. You will check out from your hotel, come here, spend the night, and tomorrow morning you will fly back to your family.
We both know how this night will start, we talked about it a lot. More precisely, we both wrote about it a lot, because we never talked even on the phone. So far all we know about each other came from writing. I have not even seen your picture, but it does not matter - I know I will like you. I long to see you, to hear your voice, to have you and to give myself to you. Today is the day.
I came early - I had to do some preparations. The house has a large unfinished basement, originally it was a root cellar. There are few wooden columns that support the floors and this is what I am here for - to turn one of the column into a whipping post.
I brought some supplies with me - some from home and some were picked up at a Home Depot on my way here. All the instruments that I might need are already at the house. I wrapped the column in cushioning foam from JoAnn's and stapled brown leather strips, left from redoing an old couch, on top of it. Then added few hooks and - voila! - we have a decent whipping post. Throw an old persian rug on the floor, cover the heater and boiler with black fabric, lots of candles for lighting and we have a passable dungeon. Unfinished stone walls, two tiny windows near the ceiling - it all fits together quite nicely. And a chain. It's an old rusty chain from a tractor, I can hang it on the hooks on the wall. We are not going to need it, but you seem to like the theatrics and what a dungeon without at least one chain?
Now all I need to do is take a quick shower and change. Jeans and sweater will not quite work for what we are about to do here.
I am a bit nervous. While working I did not have to think, but now, when all I can do is sit and wait, I feel I am getting second thoughts about it. What if I don't like you? What if you don't like me? What if this silly game falls apart and either I can't deliver or you decide that you don't want to receive? I need a drink, but I can't - for what we are about to do I need a clear head. It does not matter, it is almost 7 pm, you will be here any minute. I will know soon. Today is the day.
I hear the car in the driveway and see lights through the small basement window. It's you. You came.
-- Ron --
The long 20 year road that lead me to this house is finally over - I am here. I park my car next to her's, but I still sit there for a while, trying to calm down. I am too nervous! Today. Today is the day I will have my first whipping. Today I will finally know how it feels to completely submit to a woman. To lose myself in pain. Today is the day.
I can probably still turn the car around and leave. Nobody will know. But I can't, because I will know and that's enough. Because I might not ever get another chance. So, I leave the car and come to the door of a small old house. Annie's house. Today is the day.
I know that the door is unlocked, she told me it will be, I turn the knob and come inside. The entrance leads right into the kitchen, there is a note on the counter: "Leave your coat here, then go to the dining room table."
I look around and see a coat rack on the wall and then an arched passage to the living room with a small round table set for two - red tablecloth, white plates, two wine glasses and roses. There is another note on the table, it reads: "Take off all of you clothes, leave them on the chair, and come to the basement. Roses will show the way."
Surprised, I look down and see a line of long rose stems with thick thorns leading to one of the doors. Wine red petals, scattered around the stems, stand out on the dark stained wooden floor in the light of few candles places along the walls.
I am really scared now. What did I expect? Some small talk, a glass of wine, a cuddle on the couch. A kiss or two. And then, maybe, just maybe, moving to the basement for the main event.
Instead there this note and the line of red roses. It is still my choice, I can turn and leave. But it does not really feel like much of a choice - I waited, I dreamed about this for too long. Today is the day.
I undress slowly, carefully folding my clothes on the chair. I put my shoes under the chair and start walking the rose path. Not sure whether it is cold or anticipation, but I can't stop shivering. I open the basement door and see narrow wooden steps leading down into the dark. Now, don't panic, take a deep breath and take the first step. Today is the day.
There is a tea candle on each step, I can see where I am going, but not much else. It is too dark, my eyes need time to adjust.
Finally the last step. I stop and look around. There is a woman standing by the far wall. Dressed in all black she looks absolutely magnificent: large breasts are pushed up by a laced satin corset, lacy top is thin enough to show dark areolas. She is wearing a long skirt with a side slit that goes all the way to her waist, a stocking is showing through. Black laced boots with wide heels. No stilettos? I guess she is right - she will need all the stability she can get. I am surprised by her hair - very short, almost man's, haircut. In the twilight of the candles her hair look off white, but I am not sure.
The moment I see her, I can't take my eyes off her. It's Annie. My Annie! The one I've been having crazy dreams about since the day I first wrote to her, asking about riding crops. I saw her comment in a BDSM thread "How do you like to be spanked?". Still remember her reply word for word:
Receiving - hand or riding crop
Delivering - cane (thin), paddle, crop. There is still enough skin contact because of the massage between strikes, but i am not strong enough to deliver a prolonged spanking with just my hand.
That sounded like a woman that knew what she was talking about. I had to write to her, to get to hear anything she had to say. And it turned out she had to say a lot. Her writing had been haunting me day and night. I needed to find a way to stop this madness and this is my way of doing it. By meeting her, by riding this to the end.
I want to look at her, to really see her, to memorize every little detail, but can't raise my eyes from the floor - I am naked in front of a fully clothed woman! I am naked in front of my Annie!
"Embarrassed" does not even begin to describe what I feel. Ashamed? Mortified? I feel so small and weak in front of her. Every fiber of my soul screams at me to run, to hide, to end this madness before it is too late, but I can't, her gaze keeps me in place. It feels like any second now I will fall on my knees and start kissing her boots. But I can't do that either - she specifically told me to not even try. So what can I do? What is left there? I need an order, a direction, a hint - anything from her that will save me from this agony.
"Hello, Ron."
Her voice. It is lower then I imagined, but then why did I expect it to match? I had absolutely nothing to go on.
"Hello, Annie."
For some reason this does not sound right. Miss? Mistress? Madam? I don't know how to address her, but just "Annie" sounds wrong.
"Please, put your hands down."
What is she talking about? My hands? Oh, my! All this time I was covering myself with my both hands and now she wants me to put them down. It is so embarrassing! My poor dick is trying to hide inside of me, I think it is at its smallest right now. But what can I do if She told me to put my hands down? Down they go.
I feel my face going red, I hadn't blushed since... I don't know when. Junior High, when a girl turned me down at a dance? What is she doing to me? This woman, that I never met till now, but it feels that I knew her my whole life. She knows me better than anybody else, she knows things about me, that sometimes even I am not sure about. But this is Annie. My Annie.
-- Annie --
You seem so uncomfortable, it is painful to look at. Why are you so embarrassed of showing your perfect body is beyond me, but somehow this dynamics of standing naked in front of me makes you think of humiliation. Well, this is what you wanted, so this is what you get. This all is new to me too - I am comfortable with physical domination, but this need for self degradation is not something I've seen before. I am not going to embarrass you even further, but I am not going to help you either. Let's ride this out together and see where we land.
I take you by the hand and lead to the post. You have not seen it before. There is fear and excitement in your eyes.
I leave you there and go to the wall to get leather collar and handcuffs. Collar is just for show, but handcuffs will be used to secure you to the post. But first I grab a blindfold - blocking the vision takes anticipation fear to a very different level.
I come back to you with black fabric in hand. You can probably tell from the shape what it is, but you do not react. I am not tall enough to tie the blindfold like this, but I am not sure how you will reakt, if I tell you to knee. I come closer and push gently on your shoulders. You understand and kneel in front of me. It is really hard to look at you - I want to hug you, to caress, to kiss, but I know it is not the right time. You need this to be done. WE need this to be done. Everything else will come later.
With blindfold on I can't read your expression, but you somehow seem more relaxed. This is it, you submitted, now everything is out of your hands and you can just enjoy the ride. I bring back the collar and put it on you. Then the handcuffs. They are made of wide black leather with lots of padding, so they are heavy, but rather comfortable.
I pull your hand up to make your stand and lead you to the post. I need you to stand still in the same place, St. Andrew's cross would be ideal for that, but I don't have one and did not want to build it just for a single use. Leaning on a table will also work well, but you wanted all the theatrics with the post and I did not feel like going deep into theory of why it will not work. So, I decided on a compromise - we will start on the post and about halfway through I will move you to a table. You don't know this yet, but I don't think by that time you will mind at all. Plus the break might be appreciated anyway.
I wrap your hands around the post, lock the quick release of the handcuffs and move it the top hook. The height is just right - you are stretched out nicely and the hook is big enough to support your weight if needed.
Now for the final safety check. I come close, caress your back and lean to your ear:
"Ron, what are the colors?"
You tense at my touch, but answer: "Green - all good, yellow - slow down, red - complete stop."
"Yes, Ron. Are you ready?"
You don't answer, just nod.
I know you want a cane and I will use it. Eventually. But for now you need a warm up, and for that I love a nice wide wooden paddle. I think 10 strikes should do it.
"Ron, this is a paddle," I caress your ass with it, "you will get 10 strikes. You need to count them out."
"Yes, Madam."
Hm... Where did that "Madam" came from? I am perfectly OK with being "Annie", but "Madam" sounds about right too.
