That little voice that we all have, told me I should fight like a wild woman to get away from this crazy man and his merry band of followers, though escape was impossible considering the whole village population surrounded us. That's what my little voice said, but my heart yearned to make this man look good in the eyes of his friends. Well, that's how I justified my 'lamb being led to slaughter' performance. It was easier to tell myself that I was playing a role than to admit I was excited about my up-coming discipline.
It was the strangest thing to have to admit even to myself that I was aroused by the possibility of public discipline and sexual humiliation. Just a short while ago, I’d been a hard-driving businessperson who was a loving wife, and a devoted mother. My idea of alternative lifestyles was those people that shacked up. How'd it happened that now I was a sexual slave to whom I would've then considered a sexual monster?
Master Geoff led me lover-style with his arm around my waist and I felt so safe in his arms, except I knew I was being controlled. If I admitted it, I felt safer with this man, Master Geoff, than I had with my husband. Joe always assumed that I could look after myself and that's what I wanted. This Master assumed no such thing. He was my Master and my protector; he made all decisions for me. He made me feel safe, cocooned. Yet I loved Joe; this man I hated with every fiber of my being. "Didn't I?" I mused. I looked up at him, he smiled indulgently and my clit ached, "Why does he have such a hold over me?"
Master led me to a straight-backed chair. Holding me by my wrist he sat down and deftly swung me around until I lay across his knees face down, my cape fluttered up over my head. My breasts slid down the outside of his knee. I was sure my head was going to bang onto the hardwood floor. Quickly, I halted my forward plunge by bracing myself with my cuffed hands. "How’m I supposed to cover my ass?" I questioned myself. I felt his forearm push my legs down, pinioning me. There must have been two-dozen pairs of eyes trained on my upturned ass. I felt so vulnerable, so embarrassed, so excited. I was glad Master didn't choose to drive his fingers between my legs or it would've been impossible for me to deny my sexual arousal at his mistreatment.
"Master, pleaseee don't, Master, please," I begged of my tormentor. "Please, I beg of you, have some decency."
I felt him chuckle, though he had the good grace not to laugh out right. "Suzie you've tried my patience to beyond its breaking point. Now, my slut, you shall learn the error of your ways or you'll be here in this room a long time," he said. Somehow I knew it was said more for the benefit of his customers and their sluts and his employees than is was said for my ears. Strange.
"You, she-devil, now you shall feel the heat of my hand on your ass. You deserve it and you've begged for everything I'll give. Did ya know that?" he said more quietly as if for my ears only. The room fell silent. They strained to hear his words. "I'll start with twenty-five strikes on each cheek, Suzie. You'll count them out loud. Understand?" he said for his audience.
I felt the blood rushing to my head like it used to when, as a tomboy, I'd hang upside down from tree limbs. I straightened my arms leveling myself. He laughed at my efforts. I only nodded my understanding oh his proposed discipline.
"Oh and if you lose count, my sweets, I'll have no choice, but to start the count over again. So be smart and keep the count accurately," he ended as the first hard spank landed on my right ass cheek. He'd put his strength behind the blow. It smarted. He wasn't kidding.
Defiantly I kept silent, though I couldn't effectively withhold my involuntary intake of air. He struck me again in exactly the same spot. It hurt worse. I remained silent. My long ponytail brushed the backs of my cuffed hands. It tickled.
He struck, yet again, in the exact same spot. I realized that twenty-two more in the same spot were going to hurt like hell, but I remained stoic. This time as his huge hand swung, he counted, "One."
My thoughts drifted to the mother cat with her fluffy cubs and of her freedom as I tried to center myself elsewhere. In quick succession he struck again, "One." Something wasn't right!
I felt him swing his arm back; I readied myself for the sharp pain. Already my right cheek was growing warm. This time as his hand struck my right ass cheek yet again in the same spot, everyone chorused, "One." It was accompanied by catcalls from the Masters and nervous giggles from the subs.
Master rested his hand where it landed. I liked the feel of his hand, though hell'd freeze over before I ever admitted it to him. "Suzie, you f'n slut, are you gonna count or am I going to tenderize your right cheek?" he said, massaging my poor ass. "Your choice. I've lots of helpers, if you choose to remain mute. On the other hand, you only have one ass. Which'll it be?" Master shared for the benefit of with the others.
Surprise, surprise, Ronnie immediately piped up, "Let me at the bitch, Geoff. I'll teach the slut how to submit." I felt Geoff halt his massage. He gripped my cheek, his nails digging into my flesh; Intuitively I knew he did it to keep from firing a retort at his guest. I felt his muscles tense. Now I knew he wasn't fond of Ronnie either.
"You're much too eager, Ronnie. You must learn restraint, m'boy," he said. It sounded strange to hear my Master call Ronnie, m'boy. He was Master's senior by several years. He was short, fat and nearly all gray. Ronnie reminded me of a spoiled child. His appearance bespoke a life of excesses. Later, I found out that he, also, came from money, but his family didn't use their money to build character. They all lived off their poor hardworking dead great-grandfather's sweat. Where Geoff's family was industrious, if not quite straight.
I braced myself as I felt Master pull his arm back. His hand drove into my tender right cheek again. "One," I screamed. The room laughed.
"There now Geoff, you've got Suzie's attention," I recognized Buddy's drawl. He obviously came from someplace in the south. Why'd I never realized it before?
"I think I do. Let's see," Master quipped. He swung back and, swoosh, his hand flew in and landed on my left ass cheek.
The attack on my left cheek surprised me. "Master, oh Master Geoff, please stop for a sec, please," I begged trying to look back at him out of the corner of my eye my head nearly swiveling around backwards. "I've got a question, please wait!!!
"Now what?" he said his voice laced with resignation, though I thought I heard a hint of amusement in it, too.
"Master is that two or one? May I count to fifty or do I have to double count to twenty-five, sir?" Figuratively, I crossed my fingers. I'd realized I might me able to do a chronological count to fifty, but I doubted I'd ever be able to remember where I was if I had to remember what the count was for each cheek.
Kneading my cheek, he contemplated, "Well, I don't know. Hey guys, what'd'ya think, fifty or double twenty-five?"
There was an immediate chorus from the other Doms of, "Double twenty-five." They knew the difficulty of counting double.
"Y'know you might be right. But, let's let those who've felt our loving sting on their asses give Suzie the answer." I swung my head so I was facing the crowd; I looked through the fine mesh of my cape. I hoped to silently plead my case. No one spoke. Master had made a statement, not asked a question and they knew their place. He asked the direct question, "Well, subs, which'll it be?"
There was a long moment of silence but I'm sure it actually was only mere seconds. Then came a smattering of mellifluously spoken answers. Some said, "Fifty." Still, others said, "Double twenty-five." The room went deathly quiet. I held my breath. Everyone awaited my Master's decision.
