Saturday, 22 November 2008

Arrogance

You must have read plenty of them, there are loads of the out there, the stories of some spoilt and rude girl or woman who finally gets the spanking she has been asking for so long. There is something deeply objectionable, for me, in most of those stories. Firstly, I reject the idea that you can and should use spankings as a way of changing someone's behaviour unless it is absolutely clear that the desire is mutual and between consenting adults (which, of course, absolutely disqualifies spanking of children). Secondly, the idea that women, in general, should submit to men, just because they are men, makes me cringe.

Still it happens that these themes enter into my fantasies and sometimes it is the objectionable nature in them that makes me fascinated by them. It is often the unfairness or the inequality in them that thrills me. Think what you like, but I am not going to analyse this.

I don't know why I am so bothered with a disclaimer like this, no one would accuse a writer of crime fiction for condoning murder just because they write characters who happily kill each other.

So here it is, a real horror story, actually, but one that was quite fun to write. I am a little curious to know how you, Dear Reader, see Sarah, the heroine of this story, her character and what happens to her.

A young man and a young woman is walking on the path to the front door of a big house in the countryside. She is dressed in a white shirt and jeans and ballerinas. She has dark hair, that falls to her shoulders, she is of smallish build, slender and is quite delicate. She has a slightly worried expression on her face.

The man is half a head taller than her, slim and has long arms and legs. He is blond, wears his hair shortly cropped. He has a narrow face and blue eyes and he looks worried too, but his expression seems to show insecurity rather than concern.

'Who is this person, anyway?' the woman says.
'His name is John and he is a good friend.'
'The way you talk of him he seems to be your guru rather than friend.'
'He is wise, I care about his advice.'
'Is that why we are here?' the woman says, her voice trailing off.

The young man is silent.
'Is it?' she repeats.
'Sarah,' he replies, anxiety in his voice, 'I want him to meet us and talk to us. That is all.'
'So he can see how we are and give us advice?' her voice sharp.
'It hasn't been that good, lately,' he says meekly.
'What has he told you?'
'Calm down, Sarah, he just said he wanted to meet us. A social call, nothing more.'
'I don't like it at all,' Sarah said.
'You'll like him, I'm sure.'

The couple had come to the door and knocked on it. They stood in anxious silence and waited. After a while there was a rustle behind the door and finally it was opened.

A man stood in the doorway. He was as tall as the young man but looked stronger. He had short dark hair and a square face. His eyes were grey but sparkled as he looked at the young couple.

'Mark,' he exclaimed, 'come in! And this must be Sarah.'
He held out his hand.

Sarah looked at him and smiled a very cautious smile and took his hand.

John conducted them to the kitchen and sat them down by the big table. It was a rustic but neat kitchen and although the furniture and equipment were simple it was clean and well kept.

'I thought we should take tea before we begin,' John said.
'Begin?' Sarah said looking just a little provoked.
'Sarah!' Mark said.
John ignored her and began to prepare tea and sandwiches for them.

Tea and sandwiches were nice but Sarah appeared to to be more and more annoyed since John kept on ignoring all her remarks and Mark seemed all too impressed by him.

Sometimes John addressed a direct question to Sarah and then he listened with attention but otherwise he showed no signs of listening to her. This increasingly bothered Sarah since she noticed that John listened carefully to everything Mark said.

They spoke of ordinary things and when John asked something of Sarah it was about her work and interests and such things.

When tea was finished, John cleared the table and turned to the young couple.

'Shall we begin?' he asked with a smiling face.
'Begin what?' Sarah exclaimed.

John ignored her and looked at Mark. When he nodded John indicated that they should follow him into the parlour.

The parlour or living room was spacious and very cosy. It looked more like a library with plenty of bookshelves. There was a fireplace and an old rug, some armchairs and a great dark wooden table with four high backed wooden chairs.

'Mark, take a seat!' John said and indicated one of the two armchairs that were placed in front of the fireplace were a small fire was crackling.

Mark looked insecure but sat down in the armchair. John sank down in the other armchair.
'Sarah, sit down, you too,' John said and pointed to a footstool by the side.

Sarah was dismayed by the idea of being allocated a seat without a back while her boyfriend got the cosy armchair. She found it very impolite of John to take the other.

'What is this all about?' Sarah asked.
'Be quiet!' was the reply she got.
John's voice was sharp and Sarah was quite taken aback by the harshness in it.
'I want to know what this is all about,' she said, not letting John silence her.
'Be quiet now!' he said again, sounding more annoyed than angry.
'I am leaving,' she said, holding back her anger.
'Sit down!'

Sarah stared at John, her face had changed from anger to fear. She was silenced for the moment. She reluctantly sat down on the footstool.

'Listen Mark,' John began, looking intently at the young man, 'it is good that you came to me with your problems. I believe I can help you.'
'What problems?' Sarah asked but was silenced when John looked at her.
'I think I can be of help,' John continued, 'I can't solve your problems but I can provide you with some tools you can work with.'
'What tools?' Sarah blurted out.
'You'll see,'John said and smiled.
'What are you?' Sarah continued encouraged by for once getting a reply to her question, 'are you some sort of therapist?'
'Shut up!' John snapped.

John turned to a sideboard and took from it a wooden hairbrush. Mark and Sarah stared at him.
'This is a good tool,' he said, 'it will not be the answer to all your problems but it is a start. I will show you more tools later.'
Mark nodded and glanced at Sarah with a worried expression on his face. Sarah stared at the hairbrush in disbelief.

'To begin with you should use this every night, for a week,' John said, still turned to Mark, 'then you could start using it when it is called for.'
'What is this?' Sarah's voice sounded puzzled and a little alarmed.
'You see, Sarah,' Mark said, looking anxious, 'John's methods are a little unorthodox.'
'She will find out soon,' John said to Mark.
'John, will you please, tell me what is going on?' Sarah said.

Now John turned to her and smiled.
'Soon, Sarah, dear, soon.'

He then turned to Mark.
'You can take her in your lap, like I have shown you, and spank her for a quarter of an hour.'
Sarah stared at John.
'Apply the brush with some vigour, don't be shy, you need to get the message through.'
Sarah stared and her face showed an expression of disbelief and disgust.
'It is important that you bare her for it, this makes her take notice better.'
'Are you two mad?' Sarah cried.
'Be quiet!' John said.
'I am off.'
Sarah rose but before she had time to move John turned to her.
'Sit down and don't make me have to tell you again!'
His voice was quite matter of factly and this made Sarah stop short and sink down on her seat seemingly quite deflated.

'Take the brush and smack her every night for a week and then you should use it only when you think she need it.'
'When is that?' Mark asked meekly.
'Whenever you have had a row or when she is moody or grumpy or when she talks back.'
Sarah shook her head.

'But having meet Sarah,' John continued, 'I am not sure the brush will be enough. Most women get the message but in this case you may need something more intense.'
Mark nodded.
'And there is always a need for something more intense, even if the brush is enough. If the woman needs an extra dose.'

Sarah and Mark stared at John as he rose to his feet and walked over to a cupboard. He opened it and they saw that on the inside of the doors there hung a multitude of items. There were canes and riding crops, and wooden and leather paddles. Some of the items looked strange and unusual but they all looked menacing to Sarah.

He took out a cane and swished it through the air. He walked back to the armchair, swinging the cane in the air. When he came back he let it land with a sharp report on the seat of the armchair.

'Are you serious thinking of...' Sarah said but she was interrupted by John talking to Mark.
'This is the cane, and it can really pack a punch,' he said, 'and I can assure you that a woman will take notice, especially if it is applied on naked skin.'
'Isn't it a little brutal?' Mark asked.
'It will hurt but that is the point, isn't it? To make a point and show her what happens if she don't stop.'

Sarah stared in disbelief.
'Are you saying it is all my fault?' she said, 'I can't believe what I am hearing. This is mad.'
'Sarah,' John said, turning to her and looking at her intently, 'I am going to say this only once. A woman needs to know where the boundaries are and what happens if she oversteps them. A woman not kept in line causes all sorts of problems and it is better for all if she knows the consequences of her actions. This is all I have to say, in the future the brush and the cane will do the talking.'

Sarah just stared at him.

'Mark, I can see that you are a little uncertain about the cane but I can assure you that it is a necessary tool. I'll show you.'
Mark stared in amazement at John.

John turned to Sarah.
'Come here Sarah!' his voice was determined but quite soft.

Mark stared in amazement as Sarah, without a word, rose to her feet and approached John. She moved with hesitation but she did it with no protest.

'Now you will do as I tell you,' he continued, 'understood?'
Sarah nodded.
'Understood?' he repeated.
'Yes,' Sarah said meekly.

John walked over to one of the high backed chairs and pulled it out. He turned it round and put it on the great red rug.

'Now, I want you to kneel on the chair, Sarah,' he said, 'facing the back of it.'

Sarah moved gingerly towards the chair, cast an anxious glance over her shoulder towards Mark and hesitantly climbed the chair.

Mark was astonished by this glance and was not sure he had interpreted it right. He imagined he didn't see defiance in her eyes but almost a question, as if she was seeking his approval or his support.

'Now, Sarah,' John continued in his determined but soft voice, 'I want you to unbutton your jeans.'

Mark blushed and Sarah gasped but she did unbutton her jeans.

'Pull them down to your knees!'

Sarah reached out and took hold of her jeans and with some effort pulled them down from her bottom. She worked them slowly down from her hips and down her thighs until they were gathered around her legs mid thigh.

'Further down, Sarah.'
She reached back and pushed her jeans further down.

'Sarah, listen carefully now,' John said.
She nodded.
'Sarah!'
'Yes.'
'I am going to do something I believe your Mark should have done a long time ago. I will do this for instruction, for both of you. For him to see how it is done when he will do it himself and for you to know what awaits you and what will help you keep in line. It is good for you to know what will happen should Mark, in the future, see fit to punish you for various reasons or just because he wants to make a point. Sarah, I am going to cane you. I am going to give you some good strokes with the cane on your bottom. It will hurt but that is the intention. It is supposed to hurt. This is not a punishment but an instruction. It will hurt and it will hurt badly. It will hurt you even more since I will give the caning on the bare. Do you understand?'

There was a moment of silence.
'Yes,' Sarah said, her voice trembling.
'Good,' John said, 'now, pull down your knickers!'

Gingerly Sarah grabbed hold of her knickers and pulled them down from her bottom. Mark gasped as he saw this.

John held out the cane and gently put it on Sarah's bottom. She reacted as if she had been stung by a bee. She tensed her body and held her breath.

'Sarah, are you ready?'
'Yes,' she replied, 'I think so.'
'Good, take a deep breath and this will be over in no time.'

John withdrew the cane, waited for a very short while and then let it fly. Mark jumped as he heard the menacing hissing of the cane through the air followed by the sharp report when it struck the buttocks of Sarah. It was the ominous sound of cane against soft skin, the sound of pain.

Sarah seemed to be hit by lightning or stung again by a bee. She drew her body up, held her breath, shivered a little and then let the air out of her lungs. She shook her head as in disbelief and then she started to squirm.

It appeared to Mark as if Sarah was overwhelmed by the effect the cane had on her. She seemed to not really comprehend what had happened to her, that she had been hit, that she was being caned.

A welt was forming across Sarah's soft and fair bottom. And when John, once again, placed the cane against her skin, close to the shining welt, she whimpered.

Sarah contorted her face and squealed as the second blow hit her across her bottom, close to the first. She didn't scream but she squirmed.

The third blow came quickly after the second and Sarah jumped. She gasped and seemed to be struggling for air. She shook her head and trembled.

'Sarah, you are doing fine,' John said, 'I will give you three more and then I will be done for now. Take a deep breath!'

Sarah really took a deep breath but whimpered as John put the cane across her bottom once more.

She didn't scream and she didn't protest but Mark could see that she was in a lot of pain and that the last three strokes was a read ordeal for her. He didn't know what made the greatest impression on him, the sheer brutality of the caning or the fact that Sarah took it without arguing.

'Very good, Sarah,' John said, encouragingly, 'you are doing well, I am proud of you.'
Sarah moved.
'No, don't step down! There is one thing more for you.'
She looked alarmed.
'Come here Mark! I want you to try this.'
'No, please,' Sarah said, 'don't let him do it.'
'Why not? He is the one who will be in charge of your discipline. He will do it many times. I want to see that he gets it right.'

Mark rose from the chair and approached Sarah and John with an expression on his face that spoke of both fear, anticipation, eagerness and relief.

He took the cane John handed him.
'You can stand here!' John said.'
'How did you do it?' Mark said as he moved to take his position.
'Do what?' Whip her?'
'No,' Mark said, 'no, I meant, how did you make her do as you told her.'
John laughed.
'Dear Mark,' he said, chuckling, 'that is easy. I just told her. A woman will do anything for you if you only tell her with authority, anything.'
Sarah squirmed.

'Now, place the cane across her buttocks, to take aim!'
Sarah moaned a little as she felt the cane touch her bottom.
'Give her three whacks, now, but take your time.'
Sarah held her breath as the cane left her.

The stroke was not as distinct as the ones John had delivered but it still hurt Sarah and she jumped. It had hit her high on her bottom.

'Good,' said John, 'but aim a little lower next time. You should avoid, at any cost to hit her across the lower back, never come close to that. It is better you hit her across her thighs. Aim here, at her sweet spots!'
John touched Sarah low down on her bottom and she gasped and squirmed.

The next blow was right on target and Sarah drew her breath. Mark looked at John and seemed to be asking for confirmation.

'Much better aim. Next time, put some force into it. She won't break.'

The last of the three was, indeed, the hardest Mark delivered but it missed Sarah's buttocks and hit her high on her thighs and she cried out.

She squealed and moved about.
'Well done!' John said, 'isn't a woman's bottom lovely when it wriggles about like that.'
Sarah didn't hear Mark reply to that but she was sure he agreed.

'Now, Sarah,' John said, 'you may come down from the chair and you may adjust your clothes.

Flustered and with wild eyes, Sarah climbed down from the chair and pulled up her jeans and knickers. She gasped as the fabric of her clothes moved over her newly caned bottom.

'I think this is enough for today,' John said, 'there is no need for socialising now, go home, if you want and practice what I have taught you.'

Mark nodded and Sarah stood in silence. She regarded him with a subdued gaze.

'John, thank you for helping us,' Mark said.
'A pleasure,' John replied, 'and I got to meet your lovely girlfriend.'
'See you later.'
'Later.'

Mark turned to Sarah.
'Thank John now, for what he has done for us.'
She gave Mark a defiant look. John raised his eyebrows in appreciation of what Mark had learned.
'Thank you,' Sarah said meekly.
John smiled.

'You can take the hairbrush, that is easy to keep in a bag. You wouldn't want to carry around the cane. But I will help you buy one that will suit your needs.

John took the hairbrush from the table and handed it to Sarah.
'Shall I take it?' she wondered in earnest.
'Yes, Sarah, I think it is only proper that you should carry the tool for your improvement.'
Sarah sullenly accepted the gift and held it in her hand. She had left her bag in the hallway.

'See you later,' John said, 'and good luck. Don't forget to do what I told you.'
'You mean, spank Sarah with the hairbrush?'
'Yes, every night for a week.'
'Can I really do that?' Mark said, 'I mean, after today?'
'You can, but it wouldn't be wrong to wait a day and start tomorrow. She will feel this caning for some time. But tomorrow, start with the remedy.'
'Yes, we will.'

John escorted them to the hallway. Mark seemed a lot more cheerful, as if new hope had been found in his heart. Sarah looked baffled and was flustered but said nothing.

They said their goodbyes and left. John stood in the door and looked after them.

To his great satisfaction he saw them leave his house hand in hand.

4 comments:

Paul said...

Janice, I agree, it does indeed have to be consensual.
But the fantasy is hotter when discipline isn't consensual and the woman gives herself in passion to her punisher.
And the best writers of such fantasies are woman.
As you prove with this story dear Janice.
The idea of being punished by a dominate male is repugnant but hot.
I enjoyed this, thank you.
Warm hugs,
Paul.

Mina said...

I too have a problem with this anomaly of spanking being consensual in rl but not so consensual in fantasy. Although I admit that even if my fantasies start out as non-consensual somewhere along the way it is made obvious both parties very much want it. What odd creatures us humans are.

In my fantasies I can be told what to do and to bend over, for my own good, etc. But in rl it simply wouldn't work for me.

Hugs
Mina

Anonymous said...

Janice -- an intriguing and vivid story, but your disclaimer is nearly as interesting. We are complicated, all of us...

"Consent" is an odd word. In real life, consent is an absolute necessity, and a thrill, in sexual relations, whether vanilla or spicy. But in fantasy, unconditional, jolly consent leaves me cold (all those ghastly "smack -- ow, darling -- smack -- ow, darling" stories...)-- the notion of a true masochist, a pain slut, is not terribly interesting (to me).

What I like in your stories, and sometimes write of myself, is her acceptance, rather than her consent. She accepts the logic of the situation, the inevitability of the punishment; she gives herself over to the force of his attraction, will, charm, or charisma.

Regards,

Wystan E

Janice said...

Dear Paul, I agree with you completely, but what worried me, I think, was that someone may think that I would agree with the underlying assumptions that it is her fault and she should be punished for it and a relationship works better when the man is in charge.

Dear Mina, I am with you on that, completely. It adds an edge, though, if you don't spell out that consent in the story.

Dear Wystan, acceptance and not consent, haven't thought about it but you are right, there is a difference, an interesting one too. Thanks for the thought.

Hugs

Janice