SteveCroxteth

It was a mixture of arousal, curiosity and his final reassurance that made her mind up. She knew she could say ‘Stop’ and he would, though that could be permanent, it was an instinctive decision that made her move towards the lift and later she realised why she made it. There was a logical progression to it. She was a stubborn person with a rebellious streak and a free will who made her own decisions and didn’t blame others when they went awry. Here she was reigning in her rebellious streak of her own free will and her natural instincts reinforced this. Her stubbornness would make her comply with what she wanted in this regard, even though it seemed counterintuitive. 

Now it was a rush to the receptionist’s desk to get a pen, the envelope was already open and had the room number written on it. The contract was one piece of A4 paper and the male receptionist must have seen the bold type headline which stated ‘SUBMISSIVE’S CONTRACT’. She didn’t have time to read it all, her instinct told her that he would not put anything in it that he had not said. And what would be the point as it was a symbolic act, not a contract that could be legally enforced. 

She hurried the short distance to the lift; the concierge seemed to have anticipated her need and he had pressed the button, she momentarily wondered if he knew. Once inside she selected the 4th floor. Her heart missed a beat when just before the doors closed a woman stepped into the lift causing the doors to recycle again and they selected the 3rd floor; she knew this would delay her further. She willed the lift to move faster but still almost in two minds about what she was doing, but she wanted to be the decision-maker on this and not subject to an arbitrary cut off due to time. Her pride ensured she used the time to check her hair and lipstick in the mirror as she would not countenance the thought he would not find her attractive. 

The lift reached the 4th floor and according to the large sign room 417 was to the right, she almost ran, nearly tripping over her heels on the thick carpet. 

The door to room 417 was slightly ajar, and a ‘do not disturb’ sign was hanging on the handle. She stood for a second or two to let her breathing steady, it seemed to take ages for her hand to travel from to the door, her knock was timid and her stomach almost jumped as she heard the noise her hand made. 

A firm reply was forthcoming a few seconds later. ‘Come in Joanna’. She swallowed, took a deep breath and gripping the envelope, pushed the door open and whilst trying to look calm she stepped inside and the door closed with an almost imperceptible click. 

The room was warm and gently lit from the lamp above the desk he was sitting at. His jacket was over the back of his chair and the few papers he was attending too were lying about. 

Nonplussed for a moment she stood there waiting for some sort of guidance, she knew what she had to do but some sort of signal from him seemed essential. 

He understood, or knew, and stood before quietly saying, ‘Come here Joanna’. It was about 4 steps and he stood almost impassively as she greeted him properly. Her arms went around his waist and she pressed herself against him until he said that she could stop. This time it seemed natural and gave a moment when she could do something that seemed familiar and that she was in control of. It also served to break some of her tension before she stepped back ready to kneel.

Kneeling seemed a strange and almost alien act; she had been on her knees in front of a man before, but then she was in control of him, she forcibly overcame her rebellious streak and found it disappeared almost entirely.  Her eyes cast down she noticed her knees were together, it seemed inappropriate so she moved them further apart. Taking a larger breath she looked down at his feet and with the envelope in both hands, she held it up to him. 

He didn’t seem to move for ages, and then he took it from her hands. He checked her signature was on the contract before placing it amongst the other papers on the desk. This was a small action, however, it made her realise that she had voluntarily signed this part of herself over to him. He had taken possession and she was now his. 

He turned the chair to face her and sat on it.  She was on her knees only a few feet from a man she had just given her submission to in writing, she was no longer so nervous, it was now anticipation mixed with exhilaration and her senses were alive! She was now free to be what he decided. He leant forward and lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eyes, ‘Joanna, you are now mine’ he said quietly. 

After a pause during which he just looked at her he then continued ‘The photography will wait until tomorrow as there are a few matters from earlier today I will address straight away.’ He wasn’t asking for a reply, he told her to stand and rest her elbows on the desk. She was a little taken aback, whilst earlier considering what might happen this evening she thought he might just photograph her. In a way that would be easier to contemplate, she could understand it would be a reasonable first private meeting, however, she knew it would disappoint her. 

But now he was going to ‘Address some matters’ and that sounded ominous, it made the butterflies in her stomach come alive again. She did as asked, putting her elbows on the desk. He told her to arch her spine downwards, this meant she was bent over much further than she felt comfortable, it made her bottom more pronounced and her skirt was tighter. Her knees flexed as she tried to contain the nerves generated by her bottom being so vulnerable, he ordered her to straighten her legs and keep them so, as it tightened the skin of her buttocks.

What he did next was unexpected, he ran his fingers around her neck gathering her hair into his hand at the nape of her neck. He expertly wound it into a ponytail using a band that must have been around his wrist. She now felt even more vulnerable without the usual shield of hair that would normally surround her face. She nervously moved her weight from one foot to another. He told her to spread her legs wider to shoulder width. She glanced up into the mirror above the desk; she could see him standing a few meters behind her, looking at her in a way few men had done. It was not simple lust, his face was almost impassive, she could see he was comfortable looking at the salacious view she presented. 

His voice was calm as he told her that she had been disobedient when she broke away from the greeting before she had been told she could, she had also been demanding in their early email exchanges. For these, she was going to have her bottom spanked, he said it would be a ‘cumulative dozen’ and if she made any of these mistakes again it would be a stricter punishment. 

He told her to raise her skirt over her back, this unnerved her more, it was one thing to have her skirt lifted, but another to do it herself! She thought she could not, but his curt statement of ‘disobey and I will use a strap instead of my hand’ encouraged her. She rested her forehead on the desk and reaching behind her with both hands she lifted the hem of her skirt until it lay over her back. He then described the view he had of her bottom in very basic language. His description of the way her swollen sex lips bulged into her panties was particularly crude and said with distinctive pleasure. 

A short while later he moved to her left side. He reached over her back and pulled her right hip towards him, holding her still by trapping her against his thigh.

At the beginning of a relationship I try to keep surprises to a minimum. So I’ve written a short description of how I would spank the first time I did so.

I do not spank really hard as the pleasure is over far too soon. I spank firmly and slowly. I call it a ‘Cumulative Dozen’.

The first time you will have dressed as I instruct and will stand whilst I tell you why you are being spanked, it might just be for the pure enjoyment of doing so.

You will bend over the back of a chair and I will lift your skirt, if needed I will hold you in place between my thigh and my left hand.

The first spank will land on your far cheek, then one on your near cheek. I will then change sides and spank each cheek twice. Then change sides and spank each cheek three times, and so on until I decide to stop, or I’ve reached a dozen per side. Each cheek of your bottom could have received 78 spanks by this time.

You will then be told to stand facing into the corner, holding your skirt above your waist and forbidden to touch your bottom.

After a short wait you will bend over again, your panties will be removed, your legs parted and I will repeat the spanking. If you struggle you will be put over my knee and have your arm folded into the small of your back. By this time your bottom will be red and sore so the spanks will seem much harder than they actually are.  By the time a dozen is reached this time you will might want the spanking to stop. However if you have struggled too much, or clenched your bottom muscles too often I may decide to continue to 13, 14 or perhaps 15.

One finished you will stand in the corner again, forbidden to touch your red bottom that you will keep on display until I tell you can move.

If I have collared you the process will vary, if you would like to know how then just ask.

She had spent the previous hour obeying his commands, staying in her allocated space, removing clothing when told, displaying herself when ordered, her shoulders ached from being held back to display her breasts, then from being held between two pillars, her thighs ached from being spread as she struggled to hold position. Now all she was wearing was a white G string, wrist and ankle cuffs, which he had used to spread eagle her between two pillars as he applied the flogger, concentrating on her back, bottom, thighs and stomach, but no part of her had escaped its attention.

Once again he felt her roughly between her thighs, examining the scrap of material to see how wet she had made it, only eventually announcing she was wet enough.

He released her, and immediately clipped her hands together and ordered her to her knees and elbows and to dip her spine, removing the tie sided string he then forced it into her mouth and then positioned himself behind her. His instructions were short and to the point, the first time he would enjoy her from behind, she would receive less stimulation that way so letting her concentrate on using her internal muscles to pleasure him. The crop would serve to remind her if she transgressed.
He took a handful of her hair, pulling her head back he slowly entered her, ordering her when to tense her muscles as he also enjoyed the heat from her sore buttocks against his stomach.  He took his time, often she transgressed and paid the price of the crop, until she felt him slowly release.

An evening, recalled by the lady, written by me.

It was late afternoon and it had been a tough day at the Commission. His kiss when he met me at the station was warm and affectionate; we chatted on the way to the hotel and as we checked in. When we arrived in the room I dumped my stuff on the bed and went out onto the veranda to look out over the lake. A few minutes later I heard him say ‘come here please’. I turned to see him with an impassive look on his face and standing in the middle of the room pointing at the floor just in front of his feet.

He took hold of me around my waist and as he kissed me deeply, his hands travelled from my waist down my hips and across my bottom. Then up my back to my neck and then he felt my hair. He murmured ‘give me your tongue’ and I slipped it between his teeth. He nipped it and held it between his upper teeth and tongue. It was uncomfortable but not painful, he had done it often before and I had grown to like it. His hands resumed their journey around my upper body. They were firm, confident and moved without any hesitation. I could not have ed even if I had wanted too and the welcome feeling of melting inside began.

He then released my tongue, kissed my lips then he turned me around and bent me over so my elbows were on the bed. He lifted my skirt and folded it over my back. His hands then roved freely over my bottom and between my thighs. He felt my mons, traced the line of my slit and ran his fingertips between down the crease between my buttocks, pausing to press on my anus. He then held me firmly against his thigh and began to spank me- this had recently become a regular beginning to our time together. One spank per cheek, then two, then three, they landed on my upper thighs and the curve of my bottom. He stopped at six and spent a few minutes gently rubbing my bottom, occasionally slipping his hand between my thighs. At ten per cheek it was stinging a lot. By twelve I was having difficulty keeping still. It was the knowledge that if I moved he would start again that kept me in position. The spanking was not unexpected and it had the desired effect. I felt myself starting to melt inside even more as he rubbed my stinging bottom and thighs once again.

He stopped and made me stand. Then looked me in the eye, and then said ‘I have a few issues to resolve with you’.

My stomach took a lurch, I’d been here before, he had shown no sign of real annoyance with me recently but then he never really did. He took me by the chin, looked into my eyes and said ‘strip and kneel’. He then turned and went to the veranda.

It only took a minute to remove all my clothes and jewellery. I knelt, apprehensive about his return, embarrassed it had been a warm day; I had been wearing tights and had not had the time to wash and prepare myself for him. My make up had gone and I knew I did not look my best.

He returned and pushed me forward to my knees and elbows. Pulling back my hair he locked my leather collar around my neck. It felt strange after the long break since I last wore it. The wrist cuffs were fitted next before he clipped them behind my back pinioning my wrists. He pulled my collar by its short leash to make me kneel up and then buckled a gag around my neck and pushed the red ball behind my teeth before tightening   it.

He turned me so my back was to the mirror and placed a low backed chair in front of me. He could now see both the back and front of me. Sitting on the chair he told me to part my thighs wide and to emphasise the point his foot nudged my knees wide apart. I hoped he wasn’t going to touch me between my thighs as he so loved too, I so regretted not taking a shower immediately we arrived in the room.

From his pocket he took some butterfly style nipple clips. I hate them and he knows it, he threaded their chain into the ring at the front of my collar and after pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger to make them fully erect he clipped one to each nipple. The discomfort was almost unbearable, I instinctively closed my thighs, and he ed and gently tugged the chain, sending sharp jolts through me. I did as I was told and spread my thighs wide, pushing my mons forward as far as I could. The gag muffling my weak protests.

He spoke slowly, jerking the chain on saying each word. ‘Three weeks ago you forgot your make up, two weeks ago your stockings, last week your high shoes. You have arrived in my company wearing tights for the last 4 weeks, hence the immediate spankings. You have not kissed or greeted me properly on meeting for the same length of time. You make up today is poor, your hair isn’t brushed and you have not left your pubic hair as I instructed. In short young lady you are marring your beauty. You are fully aware how beautiful I think you are and you are distracting from it by being sloppy and that disappoints me. I will not accept you detracting from the pleasure I take in having such a desirable woman as my lover. Do you understand?’

I nodded, my eyes starting to water from the discomfort in my nipples and the realisation of how I had disappointed him. There was also the knowledge that I had been here before and if it followed a similar pattern then this was the case against me. By nodding I admitted my guilt. So I was about to punished for being a sloppy and inattentive submissive who had disappointed her Dominant. 

He helped me to my feet by lifting me by the collar on my ring; it also had the effect of tugging on my nipples. He reversed his chair and tugged the chain as he removed each nipple clip. It stung as the blood filled each nipple, my knees almost buckled each time, the gag muffling the g. He then connected my wrists cuffs in front of me, and bent me over the back of his chair so my weight rested on my elbows.

‘Part your legs’ he said, I complied and hoped he would decide to have me, not cane me. I was to be disappointed, though recently spanked I accepted I had earned this too. He fetched a cane from his bag as I waited anxiously. Holding the back of my collar he rested the cane against my bottom, drew it back and struck me. ‘One‘ he said. All I did was hear the sound then the harsh sting reached my brain! He was using the flat cane.  A piece of flexible wood two feet long, an inch wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It didn’t leave tram lines or scars; I knew its stinging would last for ages and leave a square red mark on each buttock, but it would not bruise very much. Not that it seemed important at that moment. Though I find the cane painful, the thonged whip he occasionally uses is worse. Its thick strands inflict weal’s and their tips can get into the most intimate parts of my body. I’ve also known him use it on my breasts and belly.

Each cane stroke went slightly lower until the last 3 all struck where the tops of my thighs and my bottom met. My legs kicked out from the stinging, by now I had dribbled spittle around the gag, my eyes were streaming and my nose had started to run.

He let go the back of my collar and returned the cane to his bag. Returning he pulled me upright by my collar and turned me to face him. I refused to look him in the eye; I must have looked a real mess. He took my chin again forcing me to look into his eyes. I felt so ashamed of my appearance. He had told me I was beautiful so very often and it made me feel so proud when he said it. Now I had let him down by being too complacent. He unclipped the wrist cuffs, reattaching then in front. He said ‘Do you understand what I have told you?’ I nodded. ‘Then get down on your belly on the floor and spread your legs, I haven’t finished with you yet.’ My mind raced, would it be the whip now, on my bottom?

I knelt and lay on the floor, my bottom was really stinging and the carpet was rough against my sore nipples, my belly and mons. I spread my thighs wide, dipped my spine and waited. I heard the pop of a tube of lubricant being opened. It wasn’t the whip!! The lube felt cold against my anus as he applied just enough. He undressed, I could feel him looking at my prone body, the line of my sex and the rose of my anus. I was fully exposed because it was how he wanted me to be.
He knelt between my thighs and pumped his cock to make the head larger. He spread my bottom cheeks with one hand and pressed his cock against my anus with the other. The tip entered me, it was so uncomfortable. I had forgotten how tight a caning made the cheeks of my bottom clench. He pushed into me, stretching me. I struggled and tried to object; he held me and reminded me of the presence of the whip. Once he was past the muscular ring I relaxed as the discomfort subsided somewhat; I felt the cool of his skin against my hot bottom.

He reached and took hold of my hair and collar, pulling them back. At the first slow thrust he said ‘one’. The thrusts were slow and firm, they made my bottom sting though my anus soon adapted to the presence of his cock. He told me to squeeze my buttocks together as he withdrew his cock, and relax as he thrust in. I tried to do so; each time I failed he added two extra thrusts. He was punishing me and reminding me of his dominance by not taking pleasure from the stimulation my anus could give him. It was a reminder that sexual pleasure could not be an excuse for a lack of submission.

It was a relief when he reached 100 and stopped counting and thrusting. I was glad he was no longer forcing my nipples against the rough carpet, and his tummy was no longer making my sore bottom sting more. But I immediately missed the closeness and intimacy of the man I so wanted yet had disappointed.

He pulled me to my feet by my collar, removed the ball gag and lifted my chin. I must have looked a real mess as I worked my jaw to stop it aching, I certainly felt a mess and I promised him and myself not to let my appearance or behaviour slip again.

He kissed me and said he loved me; I’m not sure if it made me feel any better- or if it was supposed to! He led me by the arm into the bathroom and told me to wash his cock and balls. I took a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous! Mascara running, the marks of the gag around my mouth, spittle around my chin and collar and my nose running!

I looked away ashamed as he wet a towel to clean the lube from between my buttocks. He turned me around so my back was to the mirror and rubbed the wet towel firmly between my buttocks, it stung where it touched the red marks.  I heard him say, ‘You have 30 minutes until dinner. Be ready on time.’

I knew that I would make him the proudest man alive when he let me take his arm to dinner. 30 minutes wasn’t long. But I so wanted to see that look of desire in his eyes that I would ensure I was just as he wanted me to be. I knew just how good he would make me feel in return. He went to the veranda to watch the sun set. I set to work, though I did sneak a look at the red marks on my bottom. They made me feel strangely proud because they were his marks and I had submitted to him. He had put them there and there was nothing I could have done about it even if I wanted to. Now I didn’t know what he was going to do with me later, but after being disciplined he always had something special planned for me! 

A record of a night out, recalled by the lady, written by me.

Dinner.

My phone warbled, from the tone I knew it was a text from Steve. ‘Blue’ was all it said. It was an instruction on what colour of underwear I was to wear tonight. That my lover had been thinking of what I should wear closest to the most intimate parts of me made an interesting diversion from a dull meeting and I took a moment to enjoy the prospect of what tonight held.

5pm arrived and I was out of the building like a sprinter, trailing my suit bag and case behind me! He had booked me into the beauticians for 5.30 and it was a cab ride away, luckily the station was only around the corner and a taxi was waiting in the rank. Leaning to the passenger window I breathlessly asked ‘The beauticians on Marchmont St as fast as you can please’. I jumped in the back and we took off as if he knew why I was in a hurry!

On arrival I gave the Cabbie a £20 note and ran in through the black shop doors. The receptionist said ‘Ms Canning? booked in by Mr Mitchell?’ Yes I replied and was introduced to a middle aged lady who led me downstairs. Sitting in a consultation area she asked me a few questions that gave me some insight into what Steve had planned for this evening. I was going to be waxed, a Hollywood plus my legs, all my nails were to be done, a full facial and my hair was going to be worn ‘up’. My makeup was also going to be done, and a massage had been booked. I was going to be collected at 7.15 so time was tight.

First I was waxed, it had been done before however this time all the hair was to be removed, including from my armpits, I was told to strip, and put on a dressing gown. I lay back on the white padded table, placed my lower legs in the cradles and tried not to seem embarrassed though the blotches on my throat gave my true feelings away away. As I had been booked in by a man they must have realised why I was there. I loved being
Steve’s submissive however I still felt embarrassed if I thought people knew. Once she had started removing the faint traces of hair two women joined her and my finger and toenails were filed and prepared. They were finished before I had to turn over and kneel on all fours; they gently held my buttocks apart as she removed all vestiges of hair from around my anus. Once my eyebrows had been plucked I put on the dressing gown on and was taken to a large wet room and advised to shower quickly, but not to rub the waxed areas.

It was heaven; the supply of toiletries was superb! I was quick, but called before I wanted to finish, trailing the dressing gown chord I went to the masseuse, Twenty minutes later I felt like a million dollars! She also applied the after wax solution to prevent in growing hair occurring. By now my mons was super smooth, and felt very sensitive.  Then back into the shower, a quick wash off to remove the oil and then I was dried in a hot air chamber! Marvellous sensations of being caressed by a powerful jet of warm air blowing up from the floor! I parted my thighs just more than was needed to feel its effect on all my bare skin! I thought this a luxury until I was surprised by being told I was having a spray tan applied to turn my skin the gentle tinge of honey gold that he loved. I blushed internally when the beautician informed me she had been told it had to be even, and all over.

The private section of the beauty salon was the venue for my hair, make up, nails and I sat there nearly naked as people fussed around me. The facial was followed by the make up artist who asked what colour dress I was going to wear, dark blue I replied. By 6.45 I was being ushered into a dressing room where my bags had already been placed.

I rolled the dark, seamed fitted stockings up my legs, the suspender belt had the proper metal clips so it was a simple job to fix them. The dark blue silky thong slid neatly between my buttocks. The bra was designed to give a little more cleavage than it needed to. Finally I slid the panties up my thighs. Steve sometimes expected me to wear them over a thong; he delighted in taking my panties off twice and knew I did not find a thong too comfortable to wear. It was part of why he made me wear one.

My shoes were high and black patent leather with wide ankle straps. The dress was close fitting across the top, plunge necked almost to my bra and the slinky material fell from my waist to just above my knees. It had been slightly lined, so my elaborate underwear was not obvious.

The shop called a taxi and I met Steve in the hotel foyer. Dressed in his DJ he was noticeable by his height but that was all that attracted attention. However I caught every male eye in the room. I crossed and embraced him as I always did if I knew what was good for me! It was a routine I had always felt embarrassed about, today it was more so as I was being watched by so many people. He murmured ‘You look absolutely stunning’. ‘Let’s get dinner out of the way, the clients wowed and committed to the project and you and I too our room.’ I stopped pressing myself against him as he finished speaking.

Dinner was a fairly lively affair, if a little difficult due to the 3 different languages. It seemed the Japanese chap to my right could only communicate by looking into my cleavage. As I was the only woman I had no competition and wished I had! However as he was the senior partner in the firm placing the order I tried to show some interest and smiled until my jaw ached.

By 10 it was done, a few good byes, an open ended expense account at a lap dancing club was organised and the rest of the party set off into the warm night air.

Steve led me by the arm to the lift. His hand rested on my waist as the door shut, it was trailing across by bottom as the door closed. By the time it opened again the people in front of us would not have known his hand had been up my skirt and caressing my bottom and the length of my slit the whole way from the foyer to the 25^th floor. By now my tummy had the light feeling that always presaged our time alone. I did not know whether I was to be spanked or made to pleasure him, the feeling in my tummy didn’t care.

The room was large, the bed huge, it had a sitting area and a large desk. It was stylishly lit by wall lamps and just warm enough. The view out over London was amazing. He emptied his pockets onto the desk and removed his jacket. ‘Come here’ was a simple statement. It never failed to make my throat feel tighter. ‘Remove my tie’ was the next thing he said. I ran my fingertips over his neck and kissed where his shirt collar had been. He quickly spun me around so I faced a mirror, his arms encircled my waist and he whispered int

She would probably have bent over the padded bench if he had told her too, but he had lifted her easily and firmly pushed her over it. If asked she would have reached forward and held the legs before he had secured her wrists to them. Likewise she might have spread her feet wide, but there was no choice given at all, and she was helpless.

She would not have tied her hair in a ponytail but she was in no position to resist, or to stop him tightening the strap over her lower back that forced so wanton a display of her buttocks. He had bared her nipples by removing her bra with a knife.

She was denied the modesty of her skirt when he tucked it up in the waistband. The tie sided panties were soon pressed into her mouth which he had been made it available by attaching her hair to the waist strap, forcing her head back so affording her only a forward view. 

She was now displayed, securely bound and completely available.

A familiar sound made her wonder if his intention was to use or discipline her.  He had a crop in a Velcro sealed case, it wasn’t often she regretted her music playing however it concealed enough of the sound to make her unsure, was it the crop case opening, or was it his trouser zip?  

She involuntarily clenched her buttocks, this served to pucker her anus, almost inviting him to use her there. – she suddenly wondered if could serve to distract him?.. Then wondered again if he actually intended to beat her? Moments prior to her restraint he had demanded her tongue, ‘Good girl ‘he had murmured into her mouth before his hand descended and found her becoming aroused.

She heard his step on the wooden floor; her curiosity would soon be resolved.