Courting & Serving Her Collection

Chapter Five-2

On her wall, there was a poster of Virginia Woolf, who Alex wouldn’t have recognized—though he had read one of her books—except her name and the dates of her life were printed underneath. A red blanket lay over her bed with a precious mound of pillow at the top. Kimberly moved in front of a dresser, lifted from among every day dresser items—brushes, make-up containers, and a mirror—a black leather paddle. She held it up with the wide end facing him. “If you misbehave at my place, you won’t get a kinky hand-spanking. You’ll feel this.”

“I’ll behave.”

“Go ahead and touch it.”

Alex reached out and felt the business end of her paddle between his finger and thumb. It was firm and thick, and Alex knew it would be truly painful. He lowered his eyes then lifted them to hers. “Kimberly,” he said, “I love you.”

“You think you love me?”

“I know I love you.” He pulled out his note and handed it to her. “I wrote it in case I had trouble saying it.”

She opened the note and read. She nearly blushed. “How can you know you love me already? I’ve barely done anything mean to you yet.”

“I just know.”

With her paddle in hand, she leaned in and hugged him, folded into him, and rested her head under his chin. She remained there nearly a minute, then she pulled her hands in and lightly pushed him the length of the paddle away. She gave him a thoughtful look. “After you’ve been over my lap, and felt this, I’m not sure you’ll feel the same.”

“I still will.”

“Well, let’s find out. After dinner, you’ll go over my lap for your first paddling.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kimberly cooked with Alex as her helper: making salads at her instruction, setting the table, and getting drinks. She grilled BBQ chicken on the stove top and cooked rice in the microwave.

After they ate, they sat talking for a while. Finally, Alex stood. “I’ll clean these dishes and dry them.” He quietly stacked their empty plates.

“I’ll get my paddle. Meet me in the living room.”

He bowed to her. “Yes, Ma’am.”

As Alex did the dishes, a flash of green and white, and black leather, crossed his periphery, and Alex’s stomach dropped. He did everything he could think of to straighten up in Kimberly’s kitchen and tiny dining room. He could put it off no longer; he went in to face her. The paddle, slanted across her cute body, looked so formidable, Alex wanted to drop to his knees at her feet and beg for mercy, but this was to prove his love. He would take it with all the courage he could muster. Without being told, he removed his clothing, except his underwear, arranging the articles, folded, on the floor, and stood at her side.

“You’re wearing the underwear I like.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And now they’re coming off.” She yanked them down all the way to his ankles then kicked them near the rest of his stacked clothes. “Now, since you were good, you’ll have to be especially careful about Cute Thing not brushing my leg; but, once we start, you won’t have to worry as much, you’ll be too busy feeling my paddle to be very excited.”

Alex swallowed and shivered. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She patted her thigh with the paddle, and Alex crawled over. She pressed her left hand against his back. “Before I start, I want to tell you that this is really going to hurt, and I want to say that I am very much going to enjoy your enduring this for me. Now are you ready?”

Staring at Kimberly’s feet, just in front of his face, Alex took a deep breath, exhaled in a sigh, and said, “I’m ready, Kimberly.” Then he sealed his lips. He felt her repositioning herself and arched his body up to give her more room to get comfortable. She gave a pleasant sigh, then quieted. Alex braced himself and waited. He felt her muscles tense, so he knew about when to expect the paddle to land, but he was not prepared for the force. The first stroke crashed into his bottom with the power of a thousand hand spanks. It took all his concentration to keep his mouth closed; and, helplessly, he emitted a humiliating moan. As intense as the stroke felt, he thought she would take a little time between, but the paddle landed again immediately with as much force as before, then again quickly after. Alex grunted as he absorbed each blow. His pathetic moans following every loud crack embarrassed him, but the strokes so badly hurt that he couldn’t contain himself. Kimberly was methodical, moving the paddle from cheek to cheek, top to bottom. “You color wonderfully, Alex,” she said, a spank followed, and Alex moaned in response.

He found, as the paddle continued falling, that if he didn’t tense up and grunt, the pain seemed a little less intense, so he tried to keep his body lax, and he gave higher-pitched sighs through his nose instead of throaty-grunts. The spanks stopped, and Alex sighed in relief, but then Kimberly spoke in as stern a voice as he’d ever heard. “Do not ever cover yourself. Put your hand down.”

Alex hadn’t even realized that he’d lifted his hand and placed it in the path of Kimberly’s paddle. “I’m sorry.” He returned it to the floor, and she went back to work. His hand continued to flinch, lifting up from the carpet, and Alex had to concentrate to keep from instinctively shielding his backside from Kimberly’s searing paddle. He sniffed back tears. The individual strokes were beginning to sting less, landing with a thudding weight, maintaining the fiery burn that covered him. “Mmm-mm, please, please Kimberly,” he begged her.

“We’re not done yet,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The paddle kept coming, and Alex emitted high-pitched hums after each, no longer concerned with how he sounded. His only focus, his only thought left, was that he was proving his love. When the ordeal would end was entirely up to Kimberly.

Another volley, a couple spaced apart smacks, then the paddle stopped, Kimberly’s body relaxed, and the only sound was Alex sobbing.

Kimberly pushed him off and ordered him to his feet. “We’ll take a little break, then just five more hard ones, and we’ll be done.”

A groan escaped Alex at the idea of five more before he realized he shouldn’t have uttered such a protest.

“Now it will be ten.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She sent him to the wall. The stinging in his cheeks felt as severe as when the paddle was landing, and Alex stepped gingerly. He reached behind him and touched where he hurt.

“I did not give you permission to rub. Keep your hands folded behind your back.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Alex leaned into the wall, hands clasped behind him. He remained very still, calming his heaving breaths as much as he could, quieting his sniffles. Behind him, Kimberly stretched out, humming contentedly. She seemed to go out of her way to be sure he knew just how comfortable she was, as he stung and stood at attention, nose to the wall.

Light through cracks in the blinds reminded Alex that it was a Saturday night just off campus. A keg party was probably getting started nearby, and there he was, cheeks stinging after receiving a cruel paddling from a wonderful, beautiful woman. He became lost in thoughts of her, as he served time for her. He didn’t notice her sneak up behind him.

“Still think you love me?” she said.

“Yes, Kimberly.”

She grabbed the back of his arm and turned him. The paddle jutted across her body. She positioned him in front of the coffee table. “Feet together. Elbows on the table.”

To stoop to such a position with her standing behind, paddle in hand, felt more subservient even than going over her lap, but he obeyed, his bottom—awakening from its numbing hibernation with a doubly-painful burning—lifted high up for her.

She rested her warm hand on the small of his back, tantalizingly close to his skin that craved her soothing touch. “Now, keep your mouth closed, which is always the rule for taking painful strokes, moaning with your lips sealed, but I do want you to count. So when you’re finished moaning, say the number, but say it with reverence and respect. Count as if you’re telling me you love me even as I’m punishing you.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He heard her take a step back, felt her weight brace into the floor, then the paddle thudded in a heavy crack into his sore backside. She definitely hit harder standing, and Alex felt tears squeeze out, but he kept his lips sealed as he moaned. He drew a slow, calming breath in through his nose, then pronounced, “One.”

The next stroke, and the rest, stung for so long that Alex gasped the numbers in varying degrees of intelligibleness, but he was trying to say them with reverence and respect. He did love her as he counted. Kimberly didn’t admonish him, and Alex suspected she recognized his effort and forgave his wavering voice. He appreciated her attention and what he thought of, without paradox, as her kind judiciousness.

After the final stroke, after Alex said “ten,” Kimberly gently held the back of his arm and returned him to the wall. She reached up with her finger, showing him where to put his nose. Then he heard her return to the couch.

Alex listened to her comfortably moving behind him. His breathing settled, his tears ceased. After a while of standing still and stinging, her voice came to him: “Now do you think you love me?”

“I love you, Kimberly, my Mistress.” At the opening of his mouth, a residual gasp was expelled. Alex chased after it with a heaving, rattling breath, and then a calming, tingling feeling passed over him.

“I guess you do then. On your knees and come get your reward.”

Alex pivoted and slowly knelt as he’d been taught. Kimberly had removed her shoes and socks. Her beautiful, delicate feet were propped up on the coffee table, and Alex crawled to them.

Kimberly, smiling, watched his approach but stopped him before his lips touched. “Your reward was going to be kissing me.” She wiggled her toes in front of his face. “Or were you counting on putting your mouth on my feet?”

Alex leaned back onto his heels and smiled down shyly. He crawled around the table. Kimberly straddled him and leaned down to Alex who, kneeling up, face tilted toward her, yielded to the gift of her aggressive kiss.

She slid to the edge of the couch and leaned back, pulling him over her. “Put your hands on me.”

Alex obeyed, tentatively brushing the tips of his fingers up and down her arms. Her hands moved quick and probing over his naked body—owning him. Her tongue moved through his mouth with the same power. She pulled his face tight against hers.

The rhythm felt awkward with her so quick and aggressive with his body, him so timid with hers. She pulled her face away and scowled—clearly not pleased—then she smiled. She grabbed the tops of his hands and placed his palms on her thighs, pressing with impressive force.

Alex knew, then, what she wanted, and he squeezed the taut skin of her tone legs. He knelt up and leaned over her.

“Remove my clothes.” She lifted her hands. Alex grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossed it behind him. She leaned back, thrusting her hips into the air, and Alex slid her shorts off, and tossed them as well over his shoulder. “See,” she said, “not all my orders will be difficult to obey.”

Alex kissed back up her legs, lingering between them, kissing and pressing against the triangle of her thong. She pulled him up, kissed his mouth, then whispered in his ear, “Carry me.”

He cradled her and rose from his knees.

“My prince,” she said, nestling her face in his neck, and Alex felt as if he had c*m into the air.

In the bedroom, she stepped down from his arms and ordered him onto the bed on his back. From her dresser, she got out a hand towel and tossed it at him. She picked up a bottle of lotion from her bedside table. “So, are you a righty or a lefty?”

“You want me to do it by myself?”

“You’re not by yourself.”

“But, I mean, you want me to do it?”

“While you use your mouth on me.” She gave him a wry grin. “Or would you rather not do it at all?”

Alex stretched out his right hand. “Forgive me. I meant to say, thank you, Mistress.” He smiled. Staring up at her, in the dim bedroom light, he felt thrilled at what they would share.