Just A Spanking: Tales of Dominance and Submission (5 page)

Gradually, the heat spread, becoming
a melting
warmth that flowed along his tensed limbs, loosening and opening him. Blood surged into his penis, swelling it to its full length. Just as the pain was overbalanced by pleasure, she struck him again, twice, symmetrically on the two cheeks of his hindquarters. The anguish flared, acute and
focused,
then died away to stinging aftershocks.

His engorged organ rubbed against the mattress. The friction only added to his distress and confusion.

"Oh," he moaned, "please ..." He stopped himself mid-sentence. He would not plead with this serving wench. He would not admit that he was nearly undone with pain and lust.

She slashed at him again and again. The elastic bamboo danced over his buttocks and thighs, trailing fire in its wake. Jayarajchandran was panting. His bottom twitched and quivered with each stroke. He ground his pelvis against the bed, eager for release, no longer caring who witnessed his abasement. The torture went on, but now he hardly noticed the pain. There was only the burning in his loins, the tightness in his balls, the ecstatic, agonizing pressure building toward imminent explosion.

Suddenly, Devarasai stopped beating him. "Will you come, my Lord?" It took him a few moments to understand her true meaning. "Will you visit my Lady's chamber tonight? Will you give me your promise?" She swept the bamboo through the air again, and laughed. "Because if I have
punish
you much more, I suspect that you will be too sore to do so."

Jayarajchandran tried to sit up. The effort sent spears of pain into his nether regions. His erection made an impressive tent in the front of his pantaloons. "You demonness!" he cried, tearing them off. "See what you've done to me!"

Devarasai smiled and dropped her eyes demurely. "Your Majesty appears to be in fine form to please Her Serene Highness," she murmured.

"No, it's you I want, you little minx." He grasped her arm, but she ducked away. Then she sank back down to her knees and bowed her head.

"My Lord," she said softly, "You are Lord of Life, King of Kings. Our lives and our fates are in your hands. Of course if you want it, my maidenhood is yours. But I am also of noble blood, and if you take this one possession, you will leave me destitute."

"Be wise and merciful. Vent your lust upon the Queen your wife, who desires you as greatly as you desire me. And may your royal seed quicken a son in her womb."

The king gritted his teeth in frustration. She was right, of course. Until the kingdom had an heir, his lust was not his own but must be placed in the service of his people. An image of Ranasiree came to him, her rounded limbs and sweet smile. Perhaps after so many weeks of celibacy, making love to her would have some novelty again.

"Very well.
Tell Her Royal Highness my wife that I will visit her this evening after the tenth hour."

Relief flooded Devarasai's lovely face. "I will, Your Majesty. Thank you, from the bottom of this unworthy one's heart." She made full obeisance, remaining with her forehead pressed against the floor until he bid her rise.

"You must swear on the bodies of the gods that you will tell no one what transpired between us."

"I swear, Your Majesty," she agreed, bowing repeatedly as she backed out of his chamber.
"On the bodies of the gods.
And you will come to the Queen tonight."

"I will," he said, unutterably weary. "I will."

He didn't keep his word, though. The afternoon ceremony dragged on past dusk. His evening meal upset his stomach. He told himself that he was too tired to satisfy his wife. Then he lay alone in his bed until dawn, sweaty, miserable and uncomfortable, twisting about, trying to find a position that didn't irritate the wounds left by Devarasai's beating.
Trying not to think about it, and her.

When he returned from the morning audience the following day, he half expected Devarasai to be waiting in his chambers. There was no sign of her, however.
The Queen has realized that she cannot control me
, he thought smugly. Still, he had his doubts.

It was a rare free afternoon for him, no official duties,
no
demands on his time. Jayarajchandran decided to spend a few hours in his gardens. He brought a retinue of guards, instructing them to surround the pavilion by the pool, but to remain out of sight. Then he reclined among the cushions in the welcome shade, listening to the music of the fountain and leafing through a book of verse.

"You broke your promise, my Lord." The king looked up, startled and alarmed. How had Devarasai gotten past his soldiers? She stood in front of his couch in a costume of green satin, like some spirit of the woods. She neither bowed nor averted her eyes, which smoldered menacingly.

Superstitious fear gripped Jayarajchandran's heart. Perhaps she really was some she-demon, sent by the gods to punish him for neglecting his duty to his wife and the dynasty. She seemed to be invisible when she wanted to be. And what human woman would have had the strength to thrash him the way she had done the previous day?

The memory made him flush. In her presence, the blood flowed eagerly to his penis, bringing him to full erection in a matter of seconds. Her eyes flicked down to the swelling between his thighs, and then back to his face.

"You cannot plead incapacity, Your Majesty. The evidence is before me. Clearly, I must punish you again, to make you keep your promise."

"Turn over onto your stomach," she commanded. The king tried to object, but it was as though she had stolen his voice. Magic, he thought
to
himself, as he complied.
Enchantment.

He
lay
there, his head to the side, watching her. What would the witch do now?

Devarasai leaned over him and grasped the waistband of his loose trousers. In one movement, she pulled them down to his knees. The light afternoon breeze wandered over the bare flesh of his buttocks. She ran a finger along one of his stripes, which stretched from the base of his spine to his outer thigh. He shivered at her touch. His aching penis jerked underneath him.

"Your Majesty, I know that it is forbidden for a subject to touch the august body of the Gods' Chosen. If later you order my death, so be it. Now, though, I must fulfill my mistress the Queen's instructions, and teach you your duty."

She brought her open palm down on his butt cheek. The loud smack of flesh on flesh rang through the garden, but none of his guards appeared in response. Before he could catch his breath, the woman landed another slap on his behind, and then another.

It would not, perhaps, have hurt very much, if his hindquarters were not already sore and lacerated from yesterday's punishment. As it was, each blow of her hand woke echoes of the agony he had previously endured. On top of this was the sting of the spanking itself, remarkably different from the bite of the bamboo cane. The pain of her spanks was richer and more diffuse. It was like the difference between eating a raw chili and tasting a slowly simmered curry.

There was an intimacy in the contact of skin on skin, in the transfer of heat from her body to
his, that
had not been present in her earlier beating. As she continued to chastise him, the warmth spread in waves of pleasure that amplified but did not erase the pain. Finally, his engorged penis became the focus of all sensation, both the hurt and the comfort distilled into the pure essence of unsatisfied desire.

He turned and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. She allowed him to enfold her in a passionate embrace, to thrust his tongue into her cinnamon-flavored mouth, to flick her lust-tightened nipples through sheer fabric of her blouse.

"You want me, don't you?" he murmured, nuzzling her ear and grinding his hardness against her thigh. "Tell me you want me, Devarasai."

"Of course I want you, Majesty. What woman does not dream of being the consort of the Lord of Life?" Gently she extricated herself from his arms. "But I am not your fate, and you are not mine."

"Now go to the Queen. She is waiting for you."

Ranasiree lay stark naked on her silken coverlet, her long jet hair loose and tousled around her shoulders.
The late afternoon sun slanted in and painted the alabaster swells and curves of her body a pale gold. "My Lord," she murmured as Jayarajchandran joined her on the bed, "I am deeply happy to see you."

She rolled over and onto her knees, raising her lusciously rounded buttocks toward him. Her thighs parted and her scent rose around them, quickening the pulse in his rigid member. She was more than ready for him. He could see trails of her nectar dripping down the backs of her legs and the ruddy lips of her sex, swollen and welcoming.

"Take me, my Lord. Please." She arched her back in invitation. The king slipped into her slick heat, marveling at the pleasure. Why had he stayed away so long?

His wife moaned and bucked against him as he thrust into her depths again and again. She gripped him frantically with her inner muscles. She seemed as tight as a virgin. Eyes closed, he allowed his body to take command, ravaging her as though he would tear her apart.

He felt her first shuddering climax, but managed to control his own release. He wanted to prolong the delight. He opened his eyes again, regulating his breathing and slowing his strokes.

All at once, he noticed a collection of strange articles on her bedside pedestal. There was a plank of carved rosewood with an ivory handle, a bunch of twigs roped into a bundle at one end, a bamboo rod, a length of leather thongs braided together.

He recognized these items for what they were: the many and varied instruments of corporal punishment. Images of Devarasai flooded his mind. He saw her paddling him, scourging him, whipping him into a frenzy of lust. He slammed his hardness into his wife's succulent flesh, again and again, spurred by the imagined force of Devarasai's blows.

His mind whirled with confusion, even as his body shook with rising desire. How did Ranasiree come to possess such implements? Had Devarasai disobeyed him, forsworn her oath, in order to share his secrets with her mistress? But then, hadn't she told him that the Queen herself had ordered his punishment?

Had the Queen known of his weakness? Jayarajchandran burned with shame at the thought of the two women sharing the lewd details of his pitiful arousal, planning new indignities to inflict on him. The shame only amplified his lust.

The Lord of Life, Ruler of the Heavens, shuddered in fearful delight. His imagination foretold a new future: Ranasiree standing over him, majestic and proud, a true queen, smiling as she tanned his bare backside to a fierce red.

The image swept him into a climax so intense that it was painful.
His penis pulsed and spasmed, propelling his seed deep into his wife's body.
She quickened in response, shaking in the throes of another orgasm.

For a long while, then, they simply lay together, each breathing the other's scent, listening to the other's heartbeat. The afternoon faded to a soft dusk. Night-blooming roses perfumed the air. In the distance, the temple gongs began to sound, calling the people to evening prayers.

Jayarajchandran smiled to himself. Sometimes it was good to be king.

Silver Bells

“Tinkle, tinkle.”

I nearly dropped my cup into the punch bowl. Under my loose black velvet tunic, my clamped nipples throbbed with fresh heat. Blood rushed to my cheeks as well as to my steel-pinched clit. Embarrassment and lust mingled until I didn’t really know what I was feeling. It was simultaneously awful and delicious.

I didn’t dare whirl around to discover who had whispered the taunt in my ear. The tiny silver bells Greg had affixed to the thumbscrews above and below might ring more loudly. Swallowing my moan and gathering the shreds of my dignity, I turned at a stately pace to find Greg’s old friend James standing behind me, sporting a naughty grin.

“Did you say something, James?” I managed to hold his gaze with some degree of poise, though I knew my face must be flushed. Wearing my party heels, I was only a few inches shorter than my guest. Behind his wire-framed spectacles, his brown eyes gleamed with mischief. For the hundredth time I wondered how much he knew about the nature of Greg’s and my relationship.

“Just that it’s a lovely party, Isabella,” he replied. Was he laughing at her?
“Simultaneously elegant and festive.
You’re a very talented hostess.”

“We’re glad you could make it.” I was astounded at how cool and in control I sounded. The ache from my tortured nipples and clit was nothing compared to the fear that my perversity might be revealed to the outside world.

“Well, when I found out about the conference here in Manhattan, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Especially since it was close to the holidays.
I’ve
been wanting
to visit you two for quite a while. Seems like ages since the wedding.”

“Just a year and half.”
 
James had been Greg’s best man. Apparently they’d known each other since college, and kept in touch through grad school. Greg had implied more than once that James had kinky interests that paralleled his own, but I thought it was unlikely he would have shared the thrilling and sordid details of our sex life, even with his closest friend.