I have been a little lazy. I usually try to post two posts on the blog each week but last week it was only one. I will try to do better but for now you will have to do with the next part of the Surrender story.
'There is one thing left to do before we leave.'
'What is that?'
'Go and lean over the table.'
'You heard me.'
'The taxi will be here in no time.'
'There is still time.'
He hadn't spanked me or done anything really unpleasant since he tried the spoon on me. In fact, bowing to him had been a smooth ride, easy to do, in a way. It had been a constant challenging of my prudishness but my own will to obey him had been enough. I had even begun to feel it as a kind of help for me. I felt his demanding me wearing this or that changed me and I wasn't sure it was altogether a bad thing.
This was harder. I knew I had said I'd do anything for him but I knew there was a limit. I also knew that I had some tough decisions to take when I reached that limit. I had been caned because I had decided he had the right to punish me and I feared that there would come other crunch times like that. I knew I would be more prepared but I feared them all the same.
I decided this was not the time. I walked over to the big oaken table an leaned over it, assuming the spanking position. I felt awkward, not at all in the mood to indulge his fascination with the subject. And I was scared.
'This is a tawse,' he said and held out a thick piece of leather, a couple of inches wide and some half a metre in length. At one end it was split down the middle. It looked brutal but I had no way of knowing how hard it was to be.
'Pull your dress up, now, darling.'
'Please, don't call me darling when you are going to beat me.' I heard how annoyed my voice was.
'But you are my darling, all the time.'
I pulled my dress up and felt a sudden thrill as I knew he was now looking at my barely covered bottom.
'There is another upside to string knickers. But I think you still should pull them down, just for good measure.'
I reached back and pulled down my tiny knickers, feeling my heart beat harder.
There was a strange kind of meanness in his demanding me to take my knickers down. There was no need, he could whip my bare buttocks anyway. He did it only to make sure I had to pull my knickers down, like a symbolic baring of me, so that I knew I was being undressed for the spanking.
He laid the tawse on me with some vigour and it hurt. It was not as vicious as the cane and quite different from the spoon but it was still quite painful.
I squirmed and held my breath as he spanked me with quick hard spanks and I felt that the pain soon became unbearable. I wriggled my hips and felt a surge of panic coming on.
Then he stopped. He let me compose myself before the assault started again. A new series of quick hard slaps landed on my bared bottom and I started to sob this time. It hurt and I felt so terribly put down by it. The pain was not unbearable but I felt humiliatingly exposed to it.
When he began the third series of smacks I felt my tears run down my cheeks. I surrendered to him. It was inevitable. I thought about the party and how it would be and why he spanked me now.
I was trembling as I pulled the knickers up and my dress down.
'Good thing I don't use make up.'
I had stopped using make up in my teens after attacks of rashes and running eyes. It made me look very pale and grey but that was the price I had to pay. I sometimes put a bit of lipstick on as I had tonight and sometimes a bit of mascara but I usually regretted it.
'Some cold water and the taxi ride and you will be as fresh as a rose.'
'My bottom won't.'
'That is the point.'
'What is the point?'
'So that you don't forget who is the boss. And to remind you that you will be nice to the guests at the party.'
'You think you have to spank me to make me nice? Am I really that horrible?'
He didn't reply, he just chuckled.
My bottom was burning as I sat in the taxi and I found it a relief to be able to stand up as we entered the restaurant where the big party was held.
It was a very glamorous occasion and I wasn't alone wearing a very skimpy outfit although most women were far more modest in knee long and very proper dresses.
I was presented as his girlfriend or partner and I was very proud. Although I was given my academic title no one seemed to be interested in that part of me. No, I was a partner, a hopefully decorative pendant to the man I was with.
I was not used to get that kind of attention. Some men smiled at me and some women sneered at me. At first I was offended by it but then I realised that they were a kind of compliments to me. At least if looking good was something to strive for. They knew nothing about me, what I had published or written or anything. They only saw my appearance and the gazes I got told me they liked what they saw. It was strange to be just a person, just a woman and being assessed on looks and appearance rather than other achievements.
I found all this both flattering and quite insulting. There was a part of me who felt intimidated by not being seen as someone with a brain, and at the same time there was something in me that was quite pleased with being a good enough pendant to the man who had brought me here.
I couldn't forget that I had been spanked just before arriving at the party. I had to sit down at the dinner and my bottom still smarted. I felt that it must shine through the fabric of my dress, that all and everyone could see that I was newly smacked.
My dress was so short that I was constantly worried it would ride up over my bottom and show off that I wasn't wearing proper knickers. And if my buttocks were shown anyone would see that they had been spanked. They were still red, I knew that.
I wondered if other women were as scantily clad as I was. I saw at least one other woman who I was sure wore no bra underneath her dress.
I knew my nipples was visible through the dress and I blushed as I saw how some men could not tear their eyes away from my bosom. I had never got so much attention to my breasts in all my life. I had always been a flat chested girl, trying to hide what I didn't have. Now my small bosom was on display and I could tell that some of the guests liked what they saw.
There was wine and drinks and although I tried to avoid it I became a tad tipsy after a while, and it all became something of a blur. I wasn't drunk, just floating in that sense of bliss the right amount of alcohol sometimes can bring you.
'Do you feel sexy?' he whispered in my ear when we were left alone for a short while.
'Yes, you bastard, I do.'
And in that moment I knew that the sense of embarrassment I felt for being dressed in clothes that revealed more than covered and walking around at the party with a burning bottom was not an altogether unpleasant sensation and that there was, indeed, a murmuring kind of arousal in it.
I looked at him as he looked out around the room and I saw on his face that smile that told me he enjoyed himself, that very private smile that made him so immensely attractive to me. It wasn't love I felt for him in that moment. There was something else, something very far from my books and lectures, something I never dared myself to feel.
I looked at him and saw how attractive he was, how sexy he was and how much I wanted him, how much I wanted him to have me. In that moment I wanted him to take me away and push me against the wall, pull my dress up and grope me. I wanted his hand to find its way down my knickers, into me. I wanted him to knead my breasts with that brutal eagerness I knew he had in him when he saw something he wanted. I wanted him to tear my dress down from my shoulders, strip me and have me.
'What is it?' he asked as he turned to me and saw how I stared at him.
I couldn't speak. I had to take a deep breath, gather my thoughts.
'I want you, I want you to take me.'
'You have no idea.' He smiled at me.
I had an idea and it made me blush. I knew I was changed. This world was not my world, I was only a guest but I felt deep inside me that I was changed. I did and said things I had no idea I was capable of and in that moment I liked it.
If I ever imagined it was a game, he constantly came up with things that made me see it wasn't. It was real for him, it concerned real emotions for him. And the way he made me feel made it sure that it was about real emotions for me too.