Lady Deborah Turns the Tables

Chapter One-3

Slowly she pushed her crotch forward until his nose was half an inch from the black satin thong that was taut between her legs. He could smell her scent, the musky, heady mixture of perfume and the natural odour of her cunt. He breathed it in.

“You like that?” she said.

He nodded. “Enjoy it,” she said. “That’s as close to my cunt as you are likely to get.”

She pulled hard on the leash again, forcing him to his feet. The n****e clamps were biting into his flesh like red-hot needles. Once again she gave a pull on the connecting chain. Through his gag he whimpered. Lady Deborah led him over to the wall, on which was a hook, about head-high. She tied the leash to the hook, pulling on it tight so that he was almost but not quite forced up onto his toes by the tautness of the leash pulling on his c**k and balls. She stood behind him as he faced the wall. Gently she stroked his c**k and kissed his ear. “Now we’re ready to begin,” she whispered. “We’ll start slowly, give you a chance to get into it. Who knows, you might even like it. Though I think not. It’s going to be just a bit too hard to be pleasurable.”

Lady Deborah went back to the chest and opened the second drawer. She pulled out a deerskin flogger, a dozen strands of soft leather attached to a wooden handle. She came back and resumed stroking his c**k. “What you’re going to get this evening is a taste of what it will be like. This is not the full retribution. That comes only after you know exactly what to expect and have time to anticipate your punishment and to put yourself in the right frame of mind to atone for your crimes.”

Robert wondered again if this woman wasn’t a bit crazy. Yet her voice was firm and even; she gave every appearance of being in complete control of herself. And of him.

“You see,” she continued, rubbing his c**k some more, then squeezing it hard, “it’s not enough that you suffer for your treatment of that poor little girl. You have to be brought to a full awareness of what you did wrong. Only in that way can you expiate your wrongdoing and resolve never to repeat it. So after this evening’s little appetiser, I shall send you away to meditate on your conduct, and then we can move towards full punishment and atonement and forgiveness.’

There was something rather ridiculous about the religiosity of all this, as though she was his confessor. Robert knew he was going to have to endure some pain if he was to keep his secrets. But he had not the slightest intention of changing his ways. He knew several little girls who were only too keen for him to tickle their lascivious little bottoms with his whip, and he had no inclination to deny himself that pleasure.

Lady Deborah stepped back. She trailed the flogger lightly, teasingly, over Robert’s bare shoulders. Then she raised her arm and brought it down hard across the centre of his back. He tried to move away, but he was held in place by the leash on his c**k. Lady Deborah raised her arm again and delivered a second blow, adjacent to the first. The flogger landed with a heavy thud. More blows followed at regular intervals, on his shoulders and down the length of his back. Robert tried to position himself in such a way as to mitigate the force of the blows, but the result of this was that he was struck on the flanks, which hurt even more.

“Raise your wrists slightly,” she said. Lady Deborah aimed the flogger at Robert’s behind, catching him a stinging blow across both buttocks. In rapid succession a dozen or more strokes fell across his ass. He hopped from one foot to another; damn, but it hurt. If he had not been gagged he would have cried out. Then the blows stopped. Lady Deborah came close, holding his body against hers, stroking his c**k, whispering in his ear that yes, she knew it hurt, but she was afraid that it was going to get worse, that the flogger was the least of her implements.

“This is just a warm-up,” she murmured into his ear, then stepped back to resume the flogging. The strands of deerskin lashed against his back. He kept trying to get out of the way, but she simply followed him, striking with great accuracy. Then the blows ceased once more.

“Now I’ve got you used to it,” she breathed in his ear, “it’s time for something a little stronger.” She took hold of the chain connecting the n****e clamps and pulled on it cruelly. Robert writhed and made muffled noises behind his gag. Lady Deborah went back to the drawer and took out a heavy leather belt. She folded it in two and struck him full across the buttocks. Robert stumbled, the leash pulling hard upon his c**k. My god, he thought, she’ll do me an injury if this goes on. But it did go on, the belt rising and falling, beating its rhythm against his now smarting bottom. It felt as if his ass was on fire, but the blows against it were relentless. He struggled to breathe through his gag. He was sweating hard, his n*****s were on fire, his balls felt like they were about to be torn off each time he writhed against his bonds, and his behind was being beaten to a pulp. And this was what she called a warm-up?

At last Lady Deborah set the belt aside. “That will do for now,” she said. “I think you have some idea of what I’m capable of.”

She took the clamps off his n*****s, which for a split second was agony, since the tiny steel teeth had stuck to his flesh. Then she unhooked the leash from the wall and removed it from the leather strap round his c**k. “You can keep the c**k-strap on when you go,” she said. “You will be wearing it when you next come to call.”

Taking his arm, she led him across the room with his thumbs still cuffed behind him. She unfastened his gag and sat in the large wooden chair while he stood in front of her.

“Was that fun?” she said mockingly. “Now you know what your little girls feel like, after you’ve thrashed them.”

Robert was silent. She reached out and began to stroke his c**k. He soon became hard again. She played with him, stroking, squeezing, rubbing. He wondered if at least she would offer him some relief now. As if reading his thoughts, she spoke to him again. “If I was a kind and caring domme, perhaps I’d give you a little treat now. I’m sure you’d love to come, perhaps with my hand, and perhaps you’d like it even more with my mouth. I flatter myself that I’m very good at that. Unfortunately I’m not feeling particularly kind. If you want to come you’ll have to do it for yourself later. I’m not here to give you a good time. So put your clothes back on.”

She unlocked his thumbs and watched as he dressed. When he was ready to go she spoke again. “You will be informed of your next appointment. We’ll wait till some of the marks on your ass have faded. But not too long. I’m anxious to resolve this. Now go.”

Robert turned to leave. Just as he reached the door she called out to him. “Don’t approach any of your little girls before you see me again. And especially not Charlotte.”

Robert rubbed his bottom as he walked away down the street. Damn, but she had hurt him. He’d never known such treatment. Did he beat girls as hard as that? He supposed he did. But they liked it, didn’t they? He wasn’t punishing them, or if he was, it was only in fun, because they had broken some little rule he’d given them, like not playing with themselves. He’d never punished a girl for anything serious.

When he got in he took a shower. Under the shower he touched himself, running his fingers over his n*****s. They were sore, but it aroused him to feel how sensitive they were. And as he stood there reliving his experience at the hands of Lady Deborah, his c**k began to rise. The pain of the beating had been bad; and yet, even at the time, and certainly now, it had excited him to be so helpless. And the greater the pain the more his bottom had grown hot, and the heat had seemed to infuse his loins. Standing now under the hot water, he pinched his n*****s with one hand while he made himself come with the other, his semen spurting out forcefully onto the floor of the shower.

She had stirred something in him. He contemplated the prospect of his next meeting with a kind of dread (the pain would be bad, he knew that), yet in his belly there was a little knot of anticipation. He wanted to see Lady Deborah striding about in her corset, wanted to feel her cool hand on his c**k and her imperious voice whispering in his ear. There was a real pleasure in being the focus of her attention, in being subjected to an exacting programme of instructions, of being exposed naked, and even, though it surprised him to admit this to himself, of being humiliated, belittled, treated with contempt. He didn’t think he had ever felt such things before. He’d always been the one in control, the one who dished it out, gave the orders, led the girl around on her hands and knees, made her reveal her innate sluttiness, humiliated her with the exposure of her desire to be degraded, to be tormented, to be used. So how come such feelings had now, with such apparent ease, been aroused in himself? Had they been there all along, simply waiting to be accessed by someone with the right skills, the right attitude? I haven’t changed, he thought. I’m still the same man I was last week, the same man who gave Charlotte all those bruises. How could things suddenly turn upside down?