Bad Girls (11 page)

What she realized soon after the first dozen slaps was that a spanking wasn't a transcendental encounter with God. Nor was it the redemption of everything that had previously been wrong. It wasn't going to fix her. No, Ellen thought well after it was too late, a spanking was just getting your ass beaten until it hurt so bad you cry your eyes out and go home with bruises that will last a week. She had known this – this wasn't her first spanking – but somehow in the heat of the correspondence, the fantasy and the anticipation, she always managed to forget it.

By the time she remembered it was always too late. This was when she changed her tune, when the I-need-it-so-bad became the stop-it-right-now. She had sworn she wouldn't turn that corner this time, not after the emails, not with Tom. But it hurt and the familiar despair possessed her.

I'll never make it. It has to stop. I'll do anything to stop it.

The overwhelming, sickening burn that grew more unbearable with each slap made the voices grow from whispers to screams in her head. He wasn't going to stop. It was going on longer than anything ever had in the past and there was no end in sight.

The truth was that Tom didn't really feel like he could stop. Their emails had made sure of that. Their words had grown so hot, no slightly-more-severe-than-average spanking would do. This had to be the mother of all spankings so he just kept pounding away, assuring himself that he had thoroughly exhausted each implement before moving on to another. He had finally finished with his hand and only just begun with the whipping sting of the belt searing stripes into her agonized flesh. By the time he switched to the paddle and landed the first two of a promised dozen hard, solid blows, she had to admit she was beaten. Her better impulses were silent, drowned out entirely by her worse ones.

Say the safeword. Say the safeword. Say the safeword. That's all she could think. Why are you doing this to yourself? Just say it already. The trouble, of course, was that they didn't have a safeword. In a plan all about pushing beyond, it had seemed unseemly to raise the issue of an escape clause; in a punishment so well earned it seemed self-defeating to provide a way out. The truth was, she always knew that if she had it, she would use it. In fact, she was proud that she'd passed on getting one. But now, lacking the easy out, she wouldn't give up. She would play the safeword card even without a safeword. She would get her way. The pain beyond all tolerance forced her to do everything to make it stop.

The first involuntary sobs sent her over the edge. The sobs came cascading out on top of each other so that she choked on them and couldn't catch her breath. She hadn't cried this hard since a little girl. The shortness of breath made her panicky and she lost the last reserve of dignity or resignation. She would fight it, no matter what it reduced her to.

‘The safeword! I'm saying the safeword!'

Tom hadn't considered this contingency and didn't know what to do. Was ‘the safeword' even a safeword? What was she doing? While he had steeled himself against his inclination to be kind, he hadn't built a similar resistance to his instinct to be cautious. Caution had served Tom well through the years, avoiding more trouble than it got him into. He knew there were times that caution was the wrong impulse; indeed, if they had been cautious, he and Ellen wouldn't be doing what they were doing. Yet he also knew that this was pushing all sorts of limits, that it had already been thrilling and that maybe it was okay to apply the breaks.

This had been no average spanking. Her sobs and the bruises attested to that. Nor was this an average encounter. It provided thrills enough for them already. So Tom, torn up inside but convinced that the cautious path was less likely to do damage than the alternative, obeyed her safeword and stopped.

Ellen had tears enough left to keep crying for minutes afterwards. Well after the pain had subsided, the disappointment hadn't. Tom held her tight, she was exposed from the waist down and he was still fully clothed. He waited anxiously for her to recover. Her face was as wet with tears as her thighs were with slick arousal, but all Tom could think of was whether he'd done the right thing. He had wanted a punishment that would push her to her edge but not beyond. He was scared of what would happen if he pushed too far.

His fear was only allayed when she finally spoke, not about the spanking but about something else they had planned.

‘Do the last thing to me, Tom.'

Ellen's voice took him by surprise. He had forgotten about the last thing, the way she had scripted the ending. Even if he had remembered, he wouldn't have been sure if they were still on the script of if they were done with it. It was still on, evidently, and that made him feel better. He remembered the IM conversation when she told him how she wanted it to end.

IM transcript between ellsbells and tomtom, 5/9/2004:

ellsbells: There's something I've wanted to ask you.

tomtom: What is it?

ellsbells: I've been too scared.

tomtom: Tell me, sweetie.

tomtom: You can tell me.

ellsbells: When we're done tomorrow, I want to suck you.

tomtom: Okay, baby. Sure. Of course.

tomtom: Is that all?

ellsbells: No.

tomtom: Tell me, Ellen.

ellsbells: I don't want you to come in my mouth. I want you to pull out.

tomtom: Okay.

ellsbells: No.

tomtom: What?

ellsbells: I want you to come on my face.

tomtom: I've never done that.

ellsbells. I want you to. I want to feel you come on my face.

ellsbells: If you won't do it, I'll take your cock out of my mouth and make you come on my face.

tomtom: I'll do it.

ellsbells: I want to be covered with your come. I want it in my hair and on my cheeks.

tomtom: Okay, baby.

Tom hadn't been sure about the last part. Most of the script had been his. He'd had the ideas, written the words, blocked the movements, and directed the action. But she told him exactly how she wanted it to end. She lowered herself to her knees in front of him before the tears on her cheeks had dried. She sniffled as she sucked him because her nose hadn't stopped running after her cry. She bobbed her head up and down the length of him, looking up at him with supplicant eyes, bloodshot and overflowing with leftover tears. He hadn't been horny during her spanking. During it he was too absorbed by the intensity to think about getting off. It was only now, replaying it in his mind – the jiggling flesh, the begging, the tears, the bruises – that it made him hard. He had the urge to grab the back of her head and pump her hard, like he always jacked off when he thought about spankings like the one he'd just administered. He was already close, dangerously close, as he really did want to come on her face. Most of all he didn't want her to have to do it to herself. This would be humiliating, as if she had to do something he couldn't do for himself. No, he would do it himself, he thought, and pulled out of her mouth abruptly, leaving her lips slack, glossy red and full from the blood that flowed into them. He grasped his cock – never before had it felt more like a weapon – and pumped it with gusto. It was the first time he'd ever done it in front of a girl and he'd been nervous thinking about it, but he was determined not to be shy. But she wasn't even watching; she didn't take the advantage when it was there for her. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, waiting for it like a baby bird waiting to be fed by its mother. It was a gesture of complete supplication that made him want to beat her again. When he was about to come he leaned back, thrusting his pelvis even closer to her face, which waited angelically to be splattered with his sperm. When he finally came the first spurt slung out diagonally across her face, Jackson Pollock-style. The second and third, powered by the throbs of his orgasm and the pumping of his hands, fell across her cheek and then in her hair. When his orgasm diminished and his spunk dripped down onto her knees, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She ran her hand across her face and licked her lips where the come landed near enough for her tongue to reach.

Sometimes after he came Tom would go into a brief funk. He would regret the whole thing, seeing only the negative and feeling rather foolish for the desires that got him there in the first place. He called it comer's remorse, and with Ellen he felt it big time. What was the use of it all? If he'd just wanted to get off there were so many easier ways to do it. If Ellen were seeking redemption, then she should go to church or something. For this feeling he would give her that second spanking. She would get it right then; as the come dribbled off her face and onto the floor she would lie on his lap, over his wilting hard on, and get another right on the bruises he'd left there just minutes before.

But like most post-orgasm feelings, these faded quickly. He was drowsy and Ellen got off her knees and began to hold him. The affection was nice after what they had been through and he sank into it. This was how the evening was meant to end, and so it did. As they came off the intensity of it all, they really didn't know what to say to each other. They hadn't scripted her departure so it went awkwardly, without reference to the way things had become derailed.

Tom was worried it would be a wedge between them, but the next day's correspondence would set his mind at ease. After he got home, Tom sent Ellen an email.

At 3:51PM on 5/11/2004,
[email protected]
wrote:

Ellen

It was wonderful with you this yesterday, very powerful and intense. I'm grateful for the trust you put in me. I hope you're feeling okay about how things went. I think you were very brave. I worry that I shouldn't have pushed you so far.

Please write me and tell me how you feel…

Yours

Tom

At 4:20PM on 5/11/04,
[email protected]
wrote:

Tom

You couldn't have been kinder to me. You were wonderful and I'm glad for everything we did together. Yes, I'm even glad you spanked me hard. You intimidated me – no, you scared me – you were so big and so intense. I'm used to having the upper hand, but you seemed so strict. Then you were gentle, too. I loved the way you treated me. I knew from the minute I arrived that I was helpless against you. I loved it when you were harsh and when you were sweet. The one wouldn't have meant anything without the other.

I'm sorry I wasn't very brave. You frightened me and I was halfway gone by the time I was across your lap. No one has ever made me feel that way. Usually I can be tough and take it, but you made me feel so weak and vulnerable. If I had known I was going to feel that way I would have warned you. I didn't want to need a safeword. I really didn't.

Now I wish you kept going, though. I know it sounds crazy, but I do. I'm not mad at you for stopping, but I think next time you shouldn't, even if it means you have to tie me down so I can't run away, or that you have to stuff my panties in my mouth so I can't manipulate you. If you think I need it you can give me more than one spanking, too.

I'll try to be braver, but you're so strong and it hurts so much. I know I need it though, and I'm grateful to you for giving it to me. I'm sore today and it hurts a little to sit. I only wish it hurt more.

Yours

Ellen

At 4:50PM on 5/11/04,
[email protected]
wrote:

Your words make me very happy. I'm even happier to think that you want more. You really were wonderful. You shouldn't forget that. I'm glad to hear you're sore. It can be a reminder.

I'm glad, too, that you're not upset at me for pushing you. I wasn't sure when you said safeword. I knew it hadn't been part of our plan, but I understand that beforehand you didn't know what it was going to be like.

I wanted to give you so much more than you'd ever had before. I wanted it to be more than you thought you could stand. But I also wanted to stop because I could see how severe the ordeal was for you. It was my responsibility to deliver a firm punishment, but it was also my responsibility not to betray your trust or make you regret your bravery.

What if I tied you down and silenced you with your wet panties and given you more? Would you be upset at me for wanting to hurt you even more?

Yours

Tom

At 5:25PM on 5/11/04,
[email protected]
wrote:

If you spanked me harder I would most certainly whine and complain, but I would never be upset with you for giving it to me. My whining and complaining would only remind me how badly I needed it. If you decided to cane me or make me get another spanking an hour later, I would know that I had to accept it. I couldn't be upset at you because I would know that you were punishing me for trying to control you.

I'll think twice about doing it again, too. If I can take it, I'll be proud of having suffered the consequences of my behavior (for once). I'm sorry I scared you by using the safeword. I really did want you to ignore it because I knew I would abuse it, but I couldn't tell you that because my bottom hurt so badly.