Subculture (26 page)

‘Oh, I'm having a whale of a time,' Lisa sarcastically got out. She moaned low in her throat as she felt the man slide his hand between her slightly-parted legs, widening them further. Then he teased a fingertip across her soaking clitoris and she gasped with desire.

‘There, you enjoyed that,' the doctor said, taking his hand away. ‘I may give you more middle finger later. But for now that wicked little bum is going to writhe beneath my palm.'

The herbalist sensed him raise his arm, and knew that her chastening was about to begin in earnest. She closed her eyes, then opened them wide as the first whack warmed her soft right globe. He was starting off quite hard, then. She promised herself that she would take this like a grown up, that she wouldn't make a sound. She tried to keep her buttocks untensed, as if she was immune to a smacking. Used all her willpower not to wriggle about on his trousered lap.

Still she couldn't help but flinch as the impassive doctor slapped her orbs again and again. He seemed to favour the centre of each poor bare buttock. Lisa gasped as an especially strong whack toasted her rump crease and the glow radiated through her twin rotundities.

‘You didn't like that one at all, did you, my sweet? It was much too stingy,' Dr Landers murmured.

‘Felt nothing,' Lisa muttered, determined not to be bested by the man.

‘You will,' her boss continued, stroking her bare bum till she moaned loud and long with desire and her nipples lengthened. ‘I haven't really started yet.'

God, he obviously intended to spank her for the longest time. Lisa began to wish that she hadn't been so rude or ignored his instructions. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to bare her own bottom and lie there waiting for the whip.

‘How long do you intend to chastise me?' she muttered lustfully.

Sensed him shrug. ‘Until you're truly repentant.'

‘You mean for the rest of my life?' Lisa shot back

‘If necessary,' her dominator said coolly, spanking twice more at both of her helpless cheeks. ‘They're turning such a pretty colour,' he added, palming them. ‘Would you like to see?'

Lisa twisted her head back and stared at the scarlet blurred imprints which covered her helpless small orbs. The deepest red showed where his palm had slapped down forcefully on the centre of her haunches. Numerous lighter marks told where his straying fingers had whacked the lower curve of her bum. Both globes felt very taut and quiveringly tender. She was taking her chastisement well, Lisa told herself, and felt a rush of pride.

‘Picture your arse turning this colour next time you're rude,' the doctor said, with a gloating smile.

Lisa tugged at her wrists bonds, wishing she could rub her sore nates for a moment. ‘I'm not into visualisation, doc,' she replied.

‘If you were wise, you wouldn't be into continually insulting me,' her emotionless boss said, hoisting her bottom higher upon his knees so that her labia released a long string of liquid. He fondled her peripheries till she tingled with loathing and lust. ‘You say that you don't like to imagine your bum being reddened, so you're obviously into tactile stimulus instead.'

The tactile stimulus consisted of another six echoing spanks. Lisa howled and drummed her bare feet upon the floor. She half-raised her bound arms, then didn't have the energy to complete the movement. She wanted to soothe her vanquished cheeks with her cool hands. She wanted to come.

‘You could stick your probe up me, doc,' she muttered suggestively, trying to push her bum back to show him the oiled entrance to her sexual centre.

In answer, Dr Landers slid one satisfying digit inside her canal. He pushed it all the way in, then halfway out, causing her to wriggle upon his finger. ‘I like to truly thrash a bum before I give pleasure to a quim,' he said thoughtfully.

Lisa gritted her teeth, wishing that she could overrule the demands of her craving clitoris. Her clit's insistent message won, and she pushed back desperately against his hand.

‘If you were to ask nicely for your tawsing, you'd be bringing your clit closer to Nirvana,' he continued, caressing her tender contours.

‘Go fuck yourself,' Lisa said. She moaned with loss as the desire-bringing digit withdrew from her quim. Now her mons felt unfulfilled and hollow, and her labia ached for a stroking. Wordlessly, she thrust her soaking pubis against his knee, trying to find the exploratory digit again.

‘Is that pepped-up pussy looking for something?' Michael Landers teased.

Christ, Lisa thought, he knew which words would shame her. He also knew the same words could excite. The herbalist whimpered with growing eroticised appetite and fleshy frustration, and knew that she'd have to beg to be satisfied. ‘Please put your finger back,' she whispered, squirming across his knees as he caressed her sore posterior.

‘Is that what you really want?' he queried softly, palpating her rosy rump cheeks.

‘No, I want you,' Lisa whispered raggedly, splaying apart her thighs the little she could across his suited knees.

Michael's voice was smooth as whipped cream. ‘What portion of me, exactly do you crave?'

Her quim was shameless. Blushing, Lisa forced her voice to form the words. ‘I want your cock up me,' she gasped.

‘I can tell you do,' murmured the man. He ran a teasing finger round the outside of her vaginal space, rimming the nerve ends. Lisa cried out at the wonderful rush, her hips thrusting forward again and again. ‘But what did we say about the order of things?' her boss continued, taking his knowing strong fingers away.

‘You said that... that I had to take the tawse before I could orgasm,' Lisa whispered, her Venusian mount throbbing harder at the prospect.

‘I'm listening, sweetheart,' the man replied.

When his fingers did the walking, her clit did the talking. She'd say anything if it meant ultimate satisfaction. And a tiny part of her wondered how far he'd take her, how the lash of leather would feel against her skin.

‘Please use the tawse on me long and hard,' Lisa half-groaned, hoping that afterwards he'd use his hands on her and his phallus up her.

‘If you insist,' her boss answered, rolling her gently from his lap. ‘Wriggle into the middle of the bed,' he continued, as she lay to one side of it, ‘and put one of those soft pillows under your tummy to push your rump up in the air.'

‘Thought this was a bedroom, not an obstacle course.' Lisa shot back, but she did as she was told, desperate to have her body satisfied. Then she turned her head to one side to see what her almost-lover was doing next.

Michael Landers had reached the various punishment implements hanging from the wall. He went into the cupboard below them and rifled through its contents. Then he brought out a brown leather strap. As he walked back towards Lisa, she could see that the implement was cut up the centre to form two equal-sized long tails.

‘This is the medium Lochgelly tawse, because I've been pleased with your work here,' her boss said sweetly. ‘Let's hope for your poor bum's sake that I never have to apply the heavy version of the Lochgelly to those tender cheeks.' He paused. ‘Of course, a really good girl would just get the smallest tawse, a mere twenty inches. It doesn't sting nearly as much.'

‘I can take any of them,' Lisa retorted, wriggling on the pillow which raised her hips. Her pelvis was so aroused that she doubted if it could register pain, only pleasure. She felt that she could take any punishment he cared to dole out.

‘Marie-Rose used to be late every morning until she tasted the heavy tawse,' her employer said. ‘Since then she's been impressively punctual.'

‘Probably just bought herself a better alarm clock,' Lisa said.

She buried her head in the remaining pillow as Michael Landers pulled back the tawse. He was kneeling on the bed to one side of her, which meant that the lash wasn't coming from too high a distance. Nevertheless Lisa felt it make its strong imprint on her bum.

‘Lucky for you that I administered a hard spanking first - means your arse doesn't feel the leather quite so keenly,' the doctor said.

‘Hell, you're a candidate for the sainthood,' Lisa jeered. She turned her head in his direction, half-wanting him to lay on the tawse with firmer zeal, to mark each inch of her waiting buttocks. She wanted him to break through some inner barrier so that she could fully let go. ‘That the best you can do, doc?' she muttered, a throaty challenge. ‘It tickles rather than stings.'

She watched as his mouth parted in obvious surprise. Ah, so she could be an unknown quantity too - he wasn't fully controlling the situation.

‘I usually give the first three strokes lightly, then show no mercy with the other seven,' Michael said. He ran the implement teasingly over her glowing rump. ‘But if you insist on nine harder lashes, then that's what you'll get.'

Lisa turned her head to the pillow again as he raised the two-tailed tawse. She didn't want to see it coming down on her defenceless bottom. Now that the moment was near, she wasn't even sure that she wanted to feel its focused lash. What on earth had made her ask for a harder thrashing? She cried out as the twin tails bit into her waiting flesh. The punisher fell halfway down her bum, reddening both buttocks simultaneously. This second stroke had been twice as hard as the first.

Before she could protest, Michael laid on the third stroke then the fourth and fifth. Lisa gasped again, and shook her hips from side to side as her belly scraped against the bolster. Her haunches felt as if they were on fire.

‘Stop,' she muttered.

‘I was just about to,' Michael said, setting down the implement and starting to palm her tender contours. ‘I like to have an interval in which I tell the naughty girl what she's still due.' He moved forward to kiss the top of her head and stroke her hair. ‘Anyway my arm needs a rest.'

‘Bugger your arm - what about my bum?' Lisa muttered, giving him a sideways look.

‘You want me to bugger your bum?' he joked, then traced a thumb or finger around the puckered anal entrance. The herbalist whimpered. She loved it when he touched her - but she didn't want his cock in there.

‘No, I mean that my bum's had enough of the tawse,' she mumbled, hiding her face in the pillow again.

‘That's for me to decide,' Michael replied. ‘And I think you have another five strokes coming up.'

He was obviously going to take her to her limit. Arousal wettened Lisa's sex-slicked legs. ‘Thought the submissive was really in charge?' she got out, then realised that for the first time she'd referred to herself as submissive.

‘In this case your clit's in charge,' Michael said. As he spoke, he slid his right hand under her and located the swollen bud, teasing it with the lightest of caresses. ‘Just tell me when you want to feel the tawse on your arse again, sweetheart,' he murmured in a coolly conversational tone.

‘You'll have a long wait,' Lisa retorted shakily. Then she groaned with unquenched desire as he pulled his hand away.

‘Shall we play strip poker to pass the time?' he asked. ‘You're only wearing a T-shirt and bra, so you're definitely at a disadvantage.'

She was also at a disadvantage as far as her hungry clit was concerned, Lisa thought. She wriggled about on the pillow, her mons half mad with arousal. He'd tied her hands so that she couldn't relieve her aching quim. ‘Alright, give me the other five strokes of the tawse,' she forced out, her voice sounding tensely hollow. But not as hollow as her gaping carnal canal.

‘As you wish,' the doctor said, picking up the Lochgelly tawse. Lisa sucked in her breath, and waited for its burning impact. When it came, she shoved her belly forward the little she could and bucked and yelled. ‘Was that your way of thanking me for number six? I thought a well-spanked bum would show better manners,' her implacable boss said.

‘Please give me stroke seven,' Lisa forced out. Soon, she told herself, tensing her bum, all the punishment would be over, and he'd at last grant relief to her sex.

She moaned again as the seventh stroke made contact with her flesh. God, her bum felt hot. She wished that she could see her cheeks again, look at their glowing scarlet. She'd sparred with the man for most of this session, but now she was ready to say what he wanted her to say.

‘Ask prettily for stroke eight,' her boss reminded, teasing the worn leather over her obediently raised backside.

‘Please use your tawse on me again, sir,' Lisa muttered fervently.

‘Push your bottom higher of its own volition,' the doctor countered, taking the pillow away. He helped her move her languid limbs. ‘Yes, that's better, much tauter. Beautifully raised.'

The herbalist groaned with lust as she moved from lying on her belly to lying on her raised knees with her head on her arms. Her near-lover obviously knew that a rigid rear was a more vulnerable one. The next stroke was somewhat lighter. Nevertheless, the leather still stung its way across her central swell and made her shudder anew.

‘Only two to go,' her tormentor said.

‘Hey, you should have been a Maths teacher,' Lisa parried with a renewed flash of spirit. Then she howled as the tawse licked her crimson curves again.