Chapter 3: Paying the Price.
Entering Liz's bedroom for the second time, I was struck, once again, by how minimally elegant its furnishings were. It was a fairly large room but only contained a king-sized four-poster bed, a walk-in robe, a chest of drawers, a mirror, and a chair. But everything, in an understated way, screamed quality. Liz had extinguished and moved the candles to her dresser and pulled back the heavy dark curtains. The morning light poured into the room. It was going to be a gorgeous day.
Liz walked in ahead of me, and without looking at me, she said, "Drop the robe and lie on the bed face down. Close your eyes."
A little bothered by her brusque tone, I still complied.
"Spread your legs and reach your arms up toward the posts," Liz instructed.
I was lying, completely starkers, spread-eagle, on top of the mattress. Liz took some velvet ropes out of one of the dresser drawers, doubled four of them over, and wrapped all four around my wrists and ankles, pushing the rope ends through the loops created by doubling the ropes up. Sliding the ends through until the ropes were snug against my skin, she tied them securely to the bedposts.
I tested the rope's strength by pulling downwards and flexing my biceps. They held firm, but I wasn't at all concerned. I'm 19, 6ft. 4 in. of lean athletic muscle, and bulletproof. As most young men think we are, remember? If I can't handle two little slips of girls, what real use am I?
Taking a silk scarf and a heavy leather paddle that was about 2 ft. long, 10 in. wide and studded with steel ringed holes with a leather-wrapped handle.
Liz showed the two items to me. "I'm going to paddle you 12 times with this, between here and here," she told me, tapping the edge of the paddle just above the top of my gluteus maximus and the top of the back of my thighs, about a hand width below where the curve of my glutes started.
"You will count them and thank me for each one, as you did last night. But first, I will blindfold you with this," showing me the scarf. "Any objections?"
Well ... I could think of a few! But to my surprise, I said nothing!
"John!" She snapped. "This is the price to fuck, and come inside me, are you willing to pay it?"
I nodded my head.
Giving me a short sharp smack on my ass cheek with her hand, Liz said, "The correct answer is 'Yes, Mistress'. So, once again, are you willing to pay the price?" She demanded of me.
I inwardly shrugged and thought, 'WTF?' but merely said "Yes, Mistress," to her.
Liz quickly bound the scarf around my eyes. No matter how much I screwed my head around, I couldn't see a damned thing! I think the anticipation was the worst thing! Liz dragged the paddle down my spine between my shoulder blades, across my ass and down my thighs to the back of my knees. She repeated this at least a half dozen times. Every time, as she neared my ass, my glutes would tighten in anticipation of the whack.
What I didn't realise was that Liz was waiting for me to relax and think that, maybe, this was just some kind of weird foreplay. As soon as I let out a shuddering sigh and relaxed down onto the mattress, she hit me, hard, right across that nexus point of nerves just above my ass where my spine met my tail bone.
"Fuck!" Exploded out of me.
With an obvious effort to suppress laughter, Liz said, "The correct response is 'One, thank you, Mistress', but I will let it ride this time. Or, was that not one?"
"One, thank you, Mistress," I quickly said.
"Good boy," she said.
'Good boy'? I thought. Seriously, WTF?
Stroking the welt, Liz waited for me to relax again. As soon as I did, she hit me three more times right across both ass cheeks, but a lot less viciously than the first hit. My ass was already warm and hurting, and there were still 8 more to go!
"2, 3 and 4, thank you, Mistress," I intoned. Not willing to risk them not being counted.
No sooner had I said 'Mistress' Liz hit me, even harder than the first time, on the top and back of my thighs, expertly missing my gluteus maximus.
I barely stifled another "Fuck!" and managed to force out "5, thank you, Mistress."
As I rode the pain in and on my ass cheeks and upper thighs down, Liz wet a finger, slipped it between my cheeks, and rimmed my ass. It didn't help with the pain, but it was certainly a welcome distraction!
It was about then I suddenly became aware of the smell of Liz's arousal. Her breath was coming in short gasps. It was bleedingly obvious paddling me had her hotter than hell!
'Interesting,' I thought.
Liz gave me three more across my cheeks, but, in comparison, they were pretty mild in their intensity, so I was easily able to mouth "7, 8 and 9," thank you, Mistress."
The skin on my ass was burning, and I was sure she had 'caned it raw' just as Becca had promised me she would if I had tried to fuck her, except I hadn't. Was I supposed to have? I wondered. I should have known better, though. Liz is an expert with whips, canes, crops, floggers, and paddles. As far as I'm aware, or had anyone tell me, she's never once drawn blood!
Stroking her fingers gently across my flaming ass, Liz said to me, "You can use two safe words if you need to. Orange, if you need me to slow down and wait for a time. Red, if you want to 'pussy out' and not get to fuck me. Do I hear a safe word?"
'Safe words? Red, orange? I have no idea WTF you're waffling about, woman! Let's just get this done and get to the fucking part,' I thought. But I shook my head and said, "No, thank you, Mistress.
"Good boy," she told me.
'Again with the 'Good boy'? What is with that?' I remember thinking to myself.
Moving a bit further back so she could let loose, Liz firmly and quickly gave me the last three whacks. One on each ass cheek and the last, an especially vicious hit, right on that same nexus point again.
"10, 11 and 12," I moaned painfully. "Thank you, Mistress."
'Thank fuck that's over with,' I thought. 'I'm not sure cumming in your velvet-lined cunt is worth doing this again!'
