Tuesday, 10 February 2009

Surrender, part 11

I wondered what he saw in me. I was a skinny, small woman. I had no lavish bosom, no swaying hips. I had no eyes to drown in, no lush lips to kiss. I was plain and ordinary, slender and small, with a small bosom and narrow hips. My hair was a dull auburn and my eyes grey.

Maybe I was just a proud woman to break, a conquest, someone he wanted to dance to his music and when he had broken me down he would leave the bits and pieces for me to collect.

Still my heart started pounding as he phoned me on Tuesday evening and told me my punishment would continue on Thursday. I tried to ask him if I was to be caned again but he didn't answer.

Now I know how horrible a caning was, how terrible his punishment could be. I spent Wednesday and Thursday in a strange haze, my mind no present, ever wandering off to the madness that awaited me.

Sarah had said I wanted it. How could I possibly want to be caned, to be punished like that? Still it was a high price to pay for having him take me back. And what was I coming back to? I wondered if there would be more dinners and theatres or if my future with him would be a long stretch of strange and cruel demands, demands and punishments when I didn't live up to them. And was there any sweet loving in store or would he be satisfied only with having me at his feet, literally and in spirit?

He had made me feel beautiful, he had made me feel attractive and lovable. Now he made me feel small and insignificant, guilty of treason and worthy a horrible punishment.

That was it! That was why I let him cane me. I felt guilty and worthy of a punishment. I let him do it because I needed to be free of that horrible guilt, that mean betrayal of walking out on him.

But it was mad to think like that. He had demanded that I should obey him and he had punished me. He had no right to do so. No right, whatsoever. He had no right to spank me, no other than the one I gave him.

As I arrived at his flat on Thursday evening I was prepared for a caning. I was prepared for the worst. I was still trembling, still shivering with fear. I doubted my resolve, my ability to cope with another thrashing like that. It had hurt so much.

He let me in, took me to the living room, sat me down on the sofa and gave me a glass of wine. He was pleased to see me, he smiled at me and I thought for a while that this caning, this punishment was only a strange dream and that he still was the perfect gentleman, wooing me, making me feel like the princess I used to be with him.

'Do you know why you are here?'

'Yes,' I said, suddenly brought back to reality, 'I am here to be punished.'

'Why are you punished?'

'Because I walked out on you.'

'Why do you accept being punished?'

'I...I don't know.'

'You know.'

'Because you will take me back.'

'Why do you want me to take you back?'

'Because I love you.'

'Do you know what it means to be back with me?'

'I will sit at your feet.'


'And you will punish me when I don't do as I am told.'

'Is that what you want?'

'I want to be with you.'

'Even if I punish you?'

'Yes, no, I don't know, please, I don't know.'

'I am glad you came back.'

'Are you?'

'Of course I am.'

'Thank you.'

'You will be caned again.'

'Like last week?'

'Yes, at least as long as last week.'

'Yes,' I said, my voice trembling, 'longer than last week?'

'Yes, I believe so.'

'I...I am not sure,' I said, tears starting to run down my cheeks, 'I am not sure I can take it.'

'I know you can.'

'I am so scared.' Now I was crying. I was overcome by emotions, couldn't control my tears. I was crying like a child.

'I know you are scared. I will help you.'

In that moment I looked at him and wondered what devil he was. He demanded that I should be whipped and at the same time did he comfort me. Did he enjoy this? Did he find pleasure in seeing me cry?

Still I leaned on him, still I found comfort in his words. He was there for me in this moment of agony. In that moment I knew what it was to bow to his will. I could not understand his thoughts, his determination. I could only accept it and hope he made it possible for me to go through with it.

'I am ready.'

'Good, will you prepare?'

'Like last time?'

'Yes, like last time.'



I rose to my feet. This time I wore a red, long sleeved top and the shorter of my two modest black skirts.

I slipped the top over my head, removed my bra, took my skirt off and stepped out of my shoes, all the while he was watching me. I placed the chair in its position and then I got the cane. It was lying on the oak table.

When I had given him the instrument of my punishment I knelt on the wooden chair and stuck my bottom out. I was ready. Tears were still running down my cheeks and I felt deflated and very, very scared.

It was a strange experience being caned by him, this time. He talked me through it. He comforted me and encouraged me. I vacillated between a sense of being taken on a ride, with him, that this was something we did together and a strange, intimidating sensation of how utterly cruel he was to whip me and comfort me at the same time.

I cried my heart out and squealed. I had no defences left for him. I sobbed and wailed and sometimes I begged him to stop. I was lost in my own agony and felt a kind of numbness, not in my body but in my mind. I pleaded from time to time but I didn't believe in the possibility of getting away. I was stuck in the moment and I seemed to accept it in a way I didn't last time. There was a strange kind of calmness at the core of my soul, a sensation of accepting what was happening, although my body suffered.

There seemed to be no end to it. One whack to my naked bottom followed another and my body was rocked by the impact. My new found acceptance didn't stop my body from trembling and my fingers from clutching at the back of the chair.

At last it was over. I stood trembling on my aching knees, sighing with relief as he told me it was done for the time being. I stood down from the chair and felt how weak I was in my knees. I was sweating and trembling and my bottom was as numb and throbbing as last time.

When I turned to him I expected him to be calm and collected, maybe even smiling but what I saw was something else. He had something haunted in his gaze and looked bewildered and upset.

He didn't take me in his arms this time and as I remembered how good it had been last week I felt a terrible longing for him, for his body next to mine.

The bewilderment was gone in a second and a kind of grim determination took its place. He took me by the hand and led me away.

'Come, there is something I want to show you.'

I could say nothing. He led me to his bedroom and turned me towards the great mirror. I saw him, dressed in black trousers and white shirt, a little flustered but smart looking, tall and dark, the gorgeous man he was. And then I saw myself, naked, small, pathetic and bare standing beside him.

'What do you see?'

'I see you.'

'And more?'

'I see me.'

I looked away.

'Look!' he snapped.

I had to look up.

'Look at you!'

'I am looking.'

'What do you see?'

'A skinny, naked woman.'

'Do you have any idea why I do this, why I punish you?'

'Because I disobey you.'

'Lots of people disobey me.'

'Please, I don't understand.'

I felt his hand on my aching bottom. His touch burnt my skin but it was still sweet. He let his hand caress my buttock and I held my breath. I trembled as I felt it move down and towards the centre. I blushed as I felt him trace the crack between my buttocks with his fingers.

I gasped as he let his fingers slide down my bottom and in between my legs. I almost cried out as I felt his fingers enter me. I looked up and saw my body cringe as I struggled with my emotions, the sudden intrusion, the pleasure of being touched.

'Please, I can't...'

'Hold on a little longer. For me.'

I struggled. He touched me where I wanted him to touch me and where his touch sent sparks of fire through my body.

'You wonder why I punish you. See this body! See this lovely, sweet
body! I desire it more than anything. I desire you more than anything.
This lovely, delightful body is too beautiful not to be mine. I want
it more than anything. I want it for me. I want it to be all mine, not
yours. I want your body to belong to me and not to you. I want to own
it and have it and have access to it. I punish you to show you that
I want to be in control of this body. I want your body to be my lovely possession and that it is always and ever subject to my will. I want to show you that you belong to me.'

I was speechless. I was held by his fingers inside me. I squirmed. Then I took a deep breath and spoke.

'You don't have to punish it to have it, I want to belong
to you anyway, I thought you knew that.'

'And this is what I wanted to do to you.'

His fingers snaked inside me and I sobbed as I tried to hold back, desperate, aching, terrified.

'Now, my dear, come for me.'

I let go and was overwhelmed by the sheer power of my orgasm. I stumbled, my legs became weak and I sank to my knees, my body trembling.

I crumbled up on the floor overcome with the aching delight of my long longed for orgasm. I had never experienced anything this violent and overwhelming before. It was so powerful it almost hurt.

'Thank you,' I whispered as he leaned over me. He smiled at me and kissed my cheek. My body relaxed and I felt weak and exhausted.


TFP said...

More, there must be more...


Paul said...

Janice, this is beautiful, more please.
Warm hugs,

Ollie said...

Very good Janice. Very good.

I love the fear, the uncertainty and the love between the characters.

Anonymous said...

I enjoy the window into his thoughts and needs. I also relish your insight into her feelings and desires.

The believable interplay between the characters distinguishes this saga from other stories (or should I say, from others' stories).

Wystan E

Janice said...

Dear TFP, you urge me on, thank you. I will continue with the story...smiles.

Dear Paul, and so do you. Thank you for the encouragement.

Dear Ollie, thank you. It is a love story, really.

Dear Wystan, thank you so much. I am glad you have no objections to his voice. I am chuffed. And it is nice to be different...at least if it is in a good way.



Carindom said...

Yes janice, excellent as we have discussed you have mirrored much in real life in this series.

Mina said...

Janice, very well done. I was feeling terribly sorry for her that she seemed in a place where she had to do what he wanted just to be with him and that didn't feel right.

But, the way you brought this around and showed us his feelings and part of what makes him tick and then how much she her own delight took over, almost without her knowledge. That was nicely done.

Thanks and hugs.

Janice said...

Dear Carindom, I am glad you find it real. It means a lot.

Dear Mina, there are, indeed, a lot of mixed feelings. Maybe she comes from a very dark place.