Mr High was impressed. 'Hey, you've got to admire that. Pretty original or what?'
My Mistress paused at one hundred. "Have you ever been spanked until you cry?" she enquired.
Strangely, despite my discomfort, that sounded deeply erotic, and I could feel a stirring between my groin. "No Mistress, I haven't."
At one hundred and fifty my Mistress stopped.
"Get up and go and look at your bottom in the mirror."
I gently raised myself off her knee and eased over to the full-length mirror on the wall at the far end of the room. I looked in astonishment at my blazing red bottom. The skin was raised and livid, made even more prominent because of my naturally very white skin. I went to rub it gently, but it stung, and I thought it was better left alone until the burning sensation had settled down. As I studied my glowing bottom in the mirror I thought to myself how a seemingly 'ordinary' looking housewife had marked my body like this. Despite the hurt and the burning, I had a feeling of how sexy this was, how disgustingly sexy that a woman, slightly younger than myself, probably about thirty-five, had marked me this way. Was I discovering a part of my nature that previously I had only a vague awareness of? "Yep, you sure are" glowed Mr High.
Eventually my Mistress interrupted my thoughts. "Come back over here. Get on all fours in front of the sofa."
I turned from my reverie and walked back towards my Mistress. To my horror, I saw that she was now holding a strap in her hand. It looked about 12 inches long, perhaps a bit more: I wasn't in the right frame of mind to gauge the implement properly.
And more importantly I wasn't sure just how much of this strap I could actually take.
However, I did as I was told. I got on my hands and knees, trembling as I awaited that first stroke.
It wasn't too bad, and nor was the second or the third, but by the fifth it began to hurt and sting badly. Several more strokes and it was almost unbearable. I don't know if my Mistress had increased the power of the strokes or I was weakening under the onslaught. Either way I was in agony.
I struggled to continue the count, but my Mistress waited patiently until I had uttered my thank you, and then brought down the strap seemingly harder than ever. My knees buckled and I sunk, belly down, onto the floor. My Mistress knelt down at the side of my head, which was buried in the thick carpet.
"Assume your position," she said, quietly but sternly.
I struggled to my knees. "No more, please Mistress," I pleaded.
"I don't remember giving you permission to speak. In fact I don't remember you asking for permission."
I hazily recalled how to make such a request and rolled over on my back and kicked my aching legs into the air.
"Yes, slave, you wish to speak? Please continue."
"Please Mistress. No more please. That's enough."
"Are you begging?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Well, beg respectfully and I will consider your request."
"Please Mistress, I respectfully request that you don't beat me any more, I will do anything you say, but please no more. Thank you Mistress, thank you very much indeed."
'Well that kept your dignity intact,' smirked Mr Low.
I didn't care, I just needed to remove my bottom from my Mistress's fire. I glanced up and could see my Mistress with her finger to her lips, tapping gently.
Finally she looked down at me. "Request denied. Assume your position." The next six hits with the strap were excruciatingly painful as I could feel it cutting into the cheeks of my bottom. A final six more and it was finished. I had screamed, begged and pleaded. My eyes watered and my knees wavered and buckled on several occasions. But my new Mistress had ignored all of this and had finished when she wanted to, and not a second before.
I was left alone to contemplate what I had just received. Left alone that is except for the nagging of my two misnamed helpers.
'Wow,' exclaimed Mr High, 'that was some experience.'
'And who are you going to share this experience with, may I ask?' interjected Mr Low. That was a good point. Who on earth could I tell about all this? However, my aching, stinging backside took my thoughts away from the question: I had too much pain to attend to in the present to be bothered about the future.
Plus, a slight complication had arisen. I had an urgent need to use the toilet. I hadn't relieved myself since first thing this morning, and now that the intensity of my beating was over and I was returning to normal, my bladder was making its presence felt: I was bursting for a pee.
My Mistress returned after what seemed like an eternity. I rolled on my back – no, I wasn't going to forget her orders on that, not so soon after my thrashing anyway – and kicked my legs in the air.
"You may speak slave."
"May I use the bathroom please Mistress?"
"No, you may not." Not a moment's hesitation. My God! I was dumbfounded. I was already struggling to hold it in, I would never be able to hold on. " Piss on the floor" suggested a mischievous Mr Low. I ignored him and tried to think of something – anything – else to take my mind off it.
She then left the room and I could faintly hear her speaking on the telephone. It seemed to take forever, and even when she finished she didn't come back into the room. I began to panic. When she finally returned I made to roll on to my back again, ready for some more pleading, but she ordered me into 'Position One'.
"Not only do you serve and obey me, but you serve and obey anyone I tell you to, especially friends of mine. I have two very dear friends coming over in 30 minutes: this will be a good test of your obedience and how well you are learning to serve. Do you understand?"
"Y-y-yes, Mistress," was all I could manage to stammer.
"My friend Veronica and her daughter Gemma often hold watersports parties. Do you know what watersports are, slave?"
'Yeah, pissing on each other, the dirty bastards,' commented Mr Low.
'Wow,' offered Mr High.
"Yes Mistress," I said. Yes, I knew what they were all right, but never in my wildest dreams thought I would take part in them. My education was continuing at some pace... and feeling slightly ashamed, I felt a tingle of excitement run through me.
"Good. I usually lend them one or two of my slaves for their parties and I think that now will be a good opportunity for them to assess you for your suitability. When they arrive I want you stood to attention, like a sentry. And I want this little thing," she flicked my sadly deflated cock, "standing to attention. So get wanking, get it more erect. She paused for a moment. "But don't you dare cum."
I could feel my bladder stretching more and more as I stood to attention in the hall, awaiting the arrival of my Mistress's friends.
WATERSPORTS
Veronica was tall, about 5ft 10in, slim with long blonde hair. Gemma, who was apparently eighteen, but looked much younger, came up to her mother's shoulders, had the same style and colour of hair, but had more prominent breasts, unless some padding was at work. They were dressed in identical, white blouses and black skirts. Cool.
They stood in front of me and looked me up and down, until my Mistress ordered me to turn round so they could examine my beaten backside.
"Who's been a naughty boy then?" smiled Veronica.
'Not him,' said Mr Low. 'He's done bugger all wrong yet, and he's already black and blue.' Which just goes to show – even Job's comforter has to be right some times. God, I hate it when he's right!
"Me, Miss," I replied weakly.
I was left standing in the hall with my semi-erect cock while my Mistress took her friends into the front room.
A couple of minutes later they came out and I was ordered up the stairs to the bathroom. I felt enormous relief and complete terror all at once. What the hell was going to happen?
" You're going to get pissed on idiot" interjected Mr Low.
I ignored him and hurried upstairs, followed by the others. My stomach was cramping and I had to stop half way up. My Mistress slapped my backside impatiently. I was bursting, but this situation was so humiliating. Finally we reached the toilet and I eyed it greedily, desperate to stand in front of it and let it all go.
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