Turnabout Is Fair Play

TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY

Tom nodded with satisfaction as he watched Ginny look around the hotel room. This was the first time they had an entire weekend to themselves. Ginny was quiet about what favors she had had to trade to get a respite from her kids. He knew that if she decided to tell him she would try to make it sound like a funny story full of quirky people. And that if he alluded to the reality of her situation she would get that tough look in her eyes and change the subject.

Tom had considered reserving a room at an inn, but he wanted more anonymity for Ginny and him than that would provide. So he opted for one of the national chain hotels than mostly catered to business travelers. It had a bar, and a so-so breakfast buffet, and a door that locked, and most likely would be barely a quarter full over the weekend. That was important, because Tom did not want to gag Ginny tonight.

"Our dinner reservations are in thirty minutes," he told her. "And you haven't given me a proper kiss hello."

"I'm sorry, sir." Ginny left her overnight bag where it was and walked over to Tom. She put her arms around his middle, and tilted her head up. She had to stand on her tiptoes to touch her lips to his, as he did not help her out. He tasted her, then pulled back.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me. That's two punishments you've earned now." He was tempted to pull her against him, to allow her to feel his hardness, to kiss her senseless. But he was her dom, her master, for the weekend, and he needed to do this right. And, he wanted to see her reaction to his words.

Classic Ginny. First the flash of delight and desire, then the reminder to herself that she should play the role, then the confusion about how to best please Tom, then the looking down. "As you will, Sir. I know I deserve whatever punishment you choose to give me."

What Tom really wanted to punish her for was all the people that she allowed to take advantage of her. He reminded himself to stay in control.

"Take off your panties."

As he had instructed her, Ginny was wearing her loose green skirt that fell to three inches above her knees. Demure enough, but sexy as hell. She had great legs. She reached under the skirt and pulled her panties down. Tom held out his hand and she gave them to him. They were white lace. He smelled them, then put them under her nose to smell as well. "I see you've been anticipating our weekend," he said.

"Yes, Sir," Ginny said.

"Describe to me what it feels like." Ginny took a moment, pondering. "Now, Ginny, or I'll add another punishment."

"I'm excited, Sir." She glanced at him. "My clit is tingling. And the tingling is radiating out, to my pussy and up to my - " she gestured vaguely with her hands "—my middle. And when you speak to me as my master, there's a little pulse and I feel it all the way up to my brain."

"Hmm. It seems that you'll have to keep your legs spread so you don't come without permission." Ginny blushed. She had a beautiful blush. "Are you wet?"

"Yes, Sir. You smelled it on my panties."

"Don't be smart with me. I think all this talk of punishment without giving you a taste has made you bold."

"I'm sorry, Sir." She looked down, but he could see her smile.

"No, look at me." Ginny complied, and Tom held her gaze. She was sucking the inside of her cheeks, probably to prevent breaking out into a fullfledged grin. "What is your safe word?"

"Napoleon, Sir."

"Have you ever used your safe word with me?"

"No, Sir, I've never needed to."

And that was the core of Tom's frustration, and what he was determined to change this weekend. There were submissives whose limits were difficult to reach, but mostly they were masochists. Ginny was not a masochist, and Tom was not a sadist. And yet, Ginny had never said no to Tom; it was always for him to decide when she had had enough. That was no good for either of them. She needed to know that she could trust Tom to stop at any time; Tom needed to know that he could trust her to tell him to stop.

"You have agreed that this entire weekend you will submit to me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"As your dom, I order you to use your safeword when you've had enough."

"Yes, Sir." The look on Ginny's face was one that Tom knew well, the one that conveyed that she enjoyed her strength. She lived a life where she had never asked for any quarter, and no one ever gave her any. But Tom was determined: she was going to ask him, and he was going to give it to her.

"Bend over the bed, and spread your legs." As Ginny obeyed, Tom reached into his satchel and found the tube of ointment he had packed. He pulled the bottom of Ginny's skirt up over her ass. God, he loved her ass. He couldn't refrain from putting his palm on it. Ginny sighed softy. "Hush." Her pussy wasn't just wet, it was soaked. Tom touched her clit with his forefinger, gently swirling around it. To her credit Ginny was quiet, but she couldn't help wriggling, trying for more contact. Tom let this pass. "It's good that you're so ready for me. It will make this act faster, and we can get right to dinner." He squeezed some of the ointment onto his finger, and again touched his finger to Ginny's clit. She squirmed again, but it didn't take long for the ointment to take effect.

"What . . .?" She looked back at him.

"Yes, dear, what's the matter?" Tom asked with mock innocence.

"It burns. Where you touched me, my pussy burns."

"Well, yes, this is your first punishment. Hold still now." He rubbed in more ointment, going all around her nub, and then her slit. He paused before putting a last squeeze onto his finger and pushing it into her sex.

"Sir, please . . . "

"Yes, do you want to use your safeword? There's time to wash this off before we leave for dinner."

"No, Sir. I deserve this punishment."

Tom was not surprised. Ginny knew he would never harm her, and that he would never put anything on her pussy that he had not thoroughly researched. He had tested it on himself - the inside of his wrist, but still. He contemplated putting some of the ointment in her butt, but they had not yet gotten into ass play and it was not on the agenda for this weekend.

"Stand up and put your panties on."

Tom watched as Ginny pulled her panties up a little high, hoping to get some relief from the burning. He shrugged. The rubbing would only make it worse.

***

The restaurant was a steak place that Tom had, of course, checked the reviews of, and it did not disappoint. He allowed Ginny to order her meat medium well with barely an admonishment. He doubted she noticed, as she tried hard not to rock forward and back in her seat. "The steak is not the only thing that is cooking tonight," he said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Can I use my safe word on your Dad puns?" she asked.

"Sweetie, you can use it on anything you want. But as soon as you say it I will send you to the bathroom to wash yourself off."

Ginny glared at him.

Tom's steak was perfect, like a cow that had walked between two candlesticks. He made Ginny take a bite of it. She needed to develop a palate. She dutifully chewed and swallowed.

They were sitting in a round booth, allowing them to be right next to each other. Tom put his hand on her skirt. "Your legs are awfully close together," he admonished her. She looked a little worried but spread her knees. Tom moved his hand under her skirt, resting it on her inner thigh. He asked her questions about a project she was working on at her job. She grew animated describing it, seeming to even forget her burning pussy. The ointment was probably wearing off by now. Over dessert - a shared piece of cheesecake - Tom told her about his recent business trip. Ginny's mouth tightened when he paid the check - allowing Tom to pay for their time together was probably more painful to Ginny then the ointment was, and a lot less fun.

"Sir, could we walk around a bit before we go back to the hotel? It was a long drive and I'd like to stretch my legs."

"Of course, Sweetie." Tom felt a bit annoyed, as he was itching to get on to the next part of Ginny's punishment. But Ginny rarely asked for anything, and he could use the fresh air as well.

They wandered the mostly closed business district for a few blocks, holding hands, looking in shop windows. There weren't a lot of people around, but it had not gotten dark yet. They paused for a while in front of a book store, talking about the books in the front display they had read or intended to read. It started to sprinkle, and Tom led Ginny back to the hotel. Before they went into the lobby, he stopped and turned her to face him. He put one finger under her chin, tilting it up. Obediently she waited, but her eyes sparkled. He kissed her, more sweetly than passionately, but that was enough for his cock to spring to life. He could get lost in her. But he would not, not this weekend. He pulled back. Ginny smiled up at him. "Thank you, Sir," she said.

"If we weren't outside right now I'd tweak your nipples until you moaned," Tom said. Ginny looked around and pointed towards an alley to the back side of the hotel that led to the deliveries entrance. "No," Tom said. "I don't care to step over rats. And in a little while you'll be moaning regardless." Once again he took her hand and led her through the lobby to the elevator, and then to their room. He closed and bolted the door behind them.

"You've got five minutes to shower and wash off the ointment," Tom said. "Be efficient. And don't even think about coming."

"Maybe you'd like to wash it off, just to make sure?" Ginny asked.

"No," Tom said. "Do as I say, and then we move on to your next punishment."

"Yes, Sir."

Ginny stripped in front of Tom, doubtless hoping that he would change his mind and join her in the shower. Tom turned his back to her, because if he didn't he might indeed change his mind. He adored her body. Maybe someday he would let her know how much he fantasized about it, about her, when they were apart. She was about 5' 6", which was a nice height but significantly shorter than his 6 feet. She was a bit plump, and carried her weight in her middle, so that Tom could squeeze the area between her belly button and her unshaven pussy. Her breasts were too big to grab entirely in one hand, and sagged a little when she did not wear a bra. He loved that her body was that of a life full of experience. But her face was a masterpiece. Hazel eyes, peaches and cream complexion that made her look younger than her age despite the beginning of wrinkles on her forehead, lips that puckered when she was deep in thought. Kissable, kissable lips. Tom shook his head. He had to stay focused.

By the time Ginny was out of the shower Tom was sitting at the foot of the bed, wearing only pajama bottoms. "Did you come?" Tom asked her.

Ginny looked offended, but answered, "No, Sir."

"Do you want to?"

Ginny nodded almost frantically. "Yes, Sir."

"Good." He patted the bed next to where he was sitting. "I've never given you a punishment spanking before, have I?" Ginny looked confused. "Oh, I've spanked you, but only because I wanted to, not because you had done anything wrong. That was for our pleasure. This is to teach you a lesson."

Ginny's look of confusion turned to perplexity, and maybe even annoyance. "You were mad that I didn't kiss you and then you were mad that I did kiss you," she said. "What lesson am I supposed to learn from that?"

"Sir," Tom admonished.

"Sir," Ginny said, but not like she meant it. She was getting outside the game.

"If you don't want me to punish you, then use your safe word."

Ginny glared at him, and slowly and deliberately lay herself across his lap.

Tom put his hand on her ass. "What's your safe word, Ginny?"

"I'm not saying it, I'm just telling you that it's Napoleon, Sir."

He slapped her ass. Her beautiful ass. She barely reacted.

Again, on the other side. Again, no reaction.

At the eighth slap, Ginny said, "Oof," softly. He smacked on that spot, the center of her left cheek, a little harder. Another "oof," and she moved on his lap a bit, rubbing against his cock. He went from semi-erect to hard in response.

Ginny must have felt that, because now with every slap she made sure to wriggle. Well, two can play that game. Tom reached between the apex of her thighs, putting his fist there, making her spread her legs. He lightly, lightly touched her clit. She was soaking again, or still. He removed his hand and spanked her. She rubbed against him. He touched her clit, he spanked her, she rubbed against him. He kept up the pattern. Now she said "oof" when he spanked her and "ahh," when he touched her. The next time, he kept his finger on her clit, without moving it. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes, Sir. Yes, Master. Please, Master."

"Then say your safe word."

Silence.

Tom tamped down his frustration as he thought of another strategy, one that would bring him pleasure. "Get off me for a minute. You can kneel on the floor." Ginny immediately slid off him. She faced the bed as she kneeled, resting against it. Tom stood up and took off his pajama bottoms. "Back on me," he said. Ginny lay herself over his lap again. He rearranged her until his cock was against the softness of her stomach. He spanked her. The "oof" sound, her movement back and forth, now causing her to rub directly against his dick. He didn't bother to touch her clit now. He spanked her and spanked her, and each time she rubbed against him. "Say it," he said. "Say your safe word." He spanked her at the top of her thighs, hard, and she cried out, and lurched forward and brought herself back. He kept spanking her there, barely varying where his hand landed, and her cries were louder and louder. He hit her even harder. She lurched forward, and with a strangled cry he came on her stomach.

It took him a moment to recover. When he caught his breath he laid his hand on her butt. It was so tender now that even a soft touch made her cry out. He spread her legs again. "Shall I spank you right on the pussy?" he said.

"If you do, I'll come, Master, I won't be able to help it."

"Say your safe word and I'll let you."

Silence.

"Then your punishment is over. Lay on the bed on your back." Tom tried not to let his annoyance and disappointment show. He had stopped just short of leaving bruises on her, and she would need aftercare. When Ginny crawled onto the bed, carefully not whimpering when her bottom touched the bedspread, Tom wiped his mess off her with a warm washcloth. He instructed her to turn over, and he rubbed aloe lotion onto her butt and thighs, and then cuddled her and whispered sweet nothings into her ear until she fell asleep.

***

Tom woke early the next morning. He was on his back, and Ginny was half on top of him with her arm around him. He kissed the top of her head and slithered out from under her. She grumbled but did not wake. Tom took a quick shower and got dressed. He put the hotel's bottle of water on the bedside table for her, and left a short note and the extra room key card next to it. As he walked around the same part of town he and Ginny had wandered the night before, his mind kept returning to that bottle of water, until he realized that he had formulated a plan.

Ginny was awake and dressed by the time he came back to the room. She greeted him with a smile. "May I kiss you good morning, Sir?" she asked. Tom gave his assent and pulled her towards him, in much better spirits than he had been.

"Are you sore?" he asked her.

Ginny shrugged. "It's not too bad, Sir." With Ginny that could mean anything from she barely felt it to she was in a lot of pain but didn't want to admit it. Rather than pursuing the subject, Tom led Ginny to the breakfast buffet. He ate lightly; just half a bagel with cream cheese, and he skipped his coffee. Ginny went for the scrambled eggs and fruit salad. And, of course, as he had known she would, she filled a tall glass with water, no ice. In general Ginny disdained anything that smacked of self-care, but hydration was a mantra to her.

Tom chatted amiably with her throughout breakfast. Ginny told him about a podcast she had listened to on the drive up yesterday about the Trojan war, and Tom told her about the archaeological dig that had found Troy.

Tom glanced at his watch, just very slightly ostentatiously. "We should head over to the museum," he said. "I'd like to get there when it opens, before it gets to crowded."

Ginny looked puzzled. "What museum?"

"It's called the Bettina Art Museum. It's small, but for a town this size the collection is excellent." Tom ignored Ginny's consternation. He was well aware that she loathed art museums. He stood up. "Let's go."

"Let me just run to the room to get my purse."

"You don't need it, Sweetie. And I want to go."

Ginny almost pouted, but stopped herself. She did look worried though. "I'll go to the restroom in the lobby, then," she said.

"I said I want to go now."

Tom could see the realization dawning on her that he wanted to play this morning, and her decision to let him. "Yes, Sir," she said. She allowed him to take her hand and lead her out of the hotel.

The museum really did have a good collection, including, unexpectedly, an original Grandma Moses painting. Ginny was somewhat interested in that, but they hadn't been in the museum very long before her eyes glazed over. She was clearly trying to disappear into her own world, but Tom insisted on explaining various pieces of artwork to her and asking her enough questions that she had to pay attention.

She made it about an hour before she tried to excuse herself to use the restroom. "No, there's another painting I want to show you," Tom said, leading her randomly through an archway into another room. This gallery was full of stereotypical modern art, guaranteed not to take Ginny's mind off of anything. Tom didn't let go of her hand as he dawdled in front of various paint splatters.

"Do you mind if I go take a look at the impressionists?" Ginny finally asked.

"Sir," Tom said reprovingly.

Ginny looked around before she said, a little quieter, "Do you mind if I go take a look at the impressionists, Sir?"

"Certainly," Tom said. "I'll go with you."

"No, that's okay, you said before the collection doesn't have any great works, and you really like the modern stuff. Sir."

"Ginny," Tom said, "I want to spend the day with you. If you want to see the impressionists, we'll go together to the impressionists."

"I was just going to stop at the restroom on the way, Sir." A family had come into the gallery and she spoke quietly. Tom pretended not to hear her.

As Tom had expected, the impressionist room was pedestrian, but he allowed Ginny to set the pace. He let go of her hand so he could stand behind her and watch her lean from one foot to another. When she actually crossed her legs, Tom suggested that they go to lunch. Ginny nodded eagerly. They walked the block or so to the upscale French place that Tom had researched and selected. He didn't attempt to make conversation as they walked. Ginny looked increasingly worried.

The restaurant was just opening when they arrived. Tom looked around and requested a particular table with a round booth. He chose to sit opposite Ginny rather than directly next to her. "Shall I order for you, Sweetie?" Ginny nodded. "Yes, Sir," Tom prompted.

"Yes, Sir," Ginny said.

Tom ordered salad niçoise for himself and quiche for Ginny. He made sure to add, "And large glasses of water, with no ice, for both of us." Ginny sat with her legs tightly crossed. When the food arrived Ginny picked at her quiche, which Tom allowed. When she put down her fork and suggested they return to the hotel, Tom said, "Drink your water, Sweetie. You don't want to get a headache." He allowed himself a tiny smirk.