"Summer in Paradise" by Fox
Chapter 5
Formed eons ago by volcanic eruptions caused by the shifting of tectonic
plates, Las Brisas is a tiny, scarcely noticeable island discreetly nestled off
the coast of Central America. Largely undeveloped and unable to be developed,
the island has become a small entity unto itself.
Fleeing the Spaniards they routinely pillaged, a small crew of pirates and
their ladies from the mainland, settled Las Brisas in the mid 1600s. A small
community sprang up on the beach and expanded inland as far as it could before
being stopped by the rocky terrain and equatorial rainforest. Smuggling and
fishing became the major industries. Practitioners of both occupations are
accustomed to paying the local constabulary an operating fee: one pays beneath
the table, the other industry pays above. But the agreed rule is, you pay, or
you don't play.
The smuggling industry, its roots in piracy, had resulted in the
establishment of a very solid and little known financial community. Investors
not wishing their assets to be known or accessible by tax collectors,
disappointed business associates, or at times other family members, relied upon
the Las Brisan bankers to be even more discreet than the gnomes of Europe.
The Las Brisans like their quiet little island, and while they may also enjoy
the influx of foreign currency, they have found that tourists are demanding,
pushy, and cheap, especially when compared with the dollars dropped by the
"businessmen" who visit from the southern hemisphere and who are looking for a
secluded little country that likes to do laundry and has a good, discreet
natural harbour.
The island of Las Brisas does not belong to any country, nor is it recognized
on any maps as a sovereign state. It is, in actuality, a private fiefdom, owned
by a small group of families whose roots lead directly back to the brigands of
old. That a private army policed and enforced the wishes of the owners of the
island was an additional bonus. And that this well trained and handsomely
rewarded army was under the rigid command of one man, who assumed the hereditary
rank of Captain, made it even easier for certain industries to choose to conduct
their business on Las Brisas.
The truck continued its uphill climb. The road had gone from gravel and
potholes to an even worse dirt road. It twisted and turned through the jungle
like a snake through the trees, before reaching a dead end. There was a whirring
sound, then a sharp metallic clang. The two soldiers in back jumped off the
truck. Heading to the front of the vehicle, they ignored the sharp spiked steel
combs that had appeared out of the dirt roadbed. Spaced to foil even the widest
vehicle, the spiked combs prevented anything with rubber tires from safely going
back down the road from whence they came.
The soldiers were part of the Captain's handpicked squad; they were
familiar with much of the security surrounding their leader's ranch. In fact,
they were privileged enough to enjoy some of the delights this very secluded,
very private facility had to offer.
Several scrawny, vine covered trees signaled the end of the road. The
soldiers, one on either side of the truck, took positions in front of two of the
trees. The woman in the cab punched buttons on her cell phone. There was a
barely perceptible clicking sound, and the trees began to move. They separated,
moving in graceful arcs away from the centre of the roadway. The two soldiers
immediately began to remove the bushes and scrub that remained. A new path was
revealed, one that ran ahead for about ten feet before turning off into the
woods. The truck engine roared, and the vehicle slowly moved forward, coming to
stop when it was completely past the trees that had moved out of the way. From
this perspective, it was clear that the trees were indeed alive, just planted in
carefully camouflaged containers, as were the rest of the plants around them,
creating what looked like a dead end but which was, in actuality, a gate. The
two soldiers quickly replaced the shrubs and foliage before scrambling on the
back of the truck. With barely a sound, the gates began to close.
The truck and its cargo rolled along a hidden scrub covered roadway.
After a couple hundred yards, there was another sharp turn. The mud turned into
a smooth tarmac surface, the trees lost their wild look and began to take on a
more orderly appearance. The road curved slightly, and then made a very sharp
turn.
Appearing suddenly through the lush jungle, the ranch house was an old
hacienda style building, with brightly colored red concrete roof tiles, and
graceful arches and whitewashed plaster. It was ideally situated in a small
clearing, surrounded by manicured shrubs and elegant trees. Pathways led off
from the house into the jungle. The glimmer of a pool area could be seen in
behind the house.
The driveway forked, one side leading to a parking area next to the
house; the other fork led to a nearby Quonset hut. The truck took the second
fork, and rolled to a stop in front of the metal structure.
Angelita jumped from the cab.
"Take the boxes inside the barn and unpack them. You can amuse
yourselves with what you'll find in the large crate, " she barked at the two
soldiers in back. "But remember, this is my personal property and I will hold
you both responsible if I don't like the condition it's in when I come for it
later."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode off toward the hacienda.
"Witch cunt," muttered the one soldier as he again forked his fingers at
Angelita's back. "Well, let's get this shit unloaded. And don't drop your end,
okay?"
"Yeah, yeah."
The two soldiers unloaded the truck, starting with the wood crate, and
carried the boxes into the building. Inside the entry area, they stacked the
smaller ones neatly against the wall. They placed the crate on the floor beside
a doorway that led back into the barn itself.
"So whaddya think is in the crate?"
"Hey, if it's anything like the shit I saw in that one box, whoo! We
could have some pretty kinky fun with some of the fillies here!" The soldier
grabbed his crotch and pumped his hips lewdly. He swung his other arm as if he
were cracking a whip. "Giddyap, puta!"
His comrade in arms laughed. "Hey," he began," I heard when the Captain
raided the hotel, he wasted the gringo drug dealer, and he found some slit too,
all tied up like a chicken ready to eat!"
"Wouldn't that be nice if she were in the box, he?"
"Get a crowbar, let's find out. Remember, the witch said we could play
with anything we find inside the crate."
"Careful! She hears you, she'll pin your balls up on the bulletin
board."
Inside the box, bruised, battered, an exhausted Summer had drifted into
deep sub-space. She no longer realized how beat up she was, for she could no
longer feel her own body. She was lost in her own world of remembrances, despair
and grief.
In her mind, Summer was back home, about to meet Geoffrey, for the very
first time.
****
Summer sat in her small red car. She didn't hear the CD-player, although it
was playing one of her favourite discs. Meat Loaf speaking in a soft, sensual
way: "On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the
red roses?" Ellen Foley replying, "Will he offer me his hunger?"
"Yes," comes the big fellow's assured, menacing response.
Summer took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Calm the nerves, she told
herself. She rubbed her palms together. They were wet with nervous anticipation.
She took another deep breath. Reached for the ignition, turned it off. Put the
keys in her purse. Opened the driver's door. Exhaled. Finally her left foot
touched the cold hard concrete of the street. It swerved in a delicate pirouette
as Summer, with all the grace her femininity could muster, exited the car.
Purposefully, no hesitation in her stride, she walked up the walk. Her heart
raced in anticipation, mingled with fear. Her wide brown eyes wandered over the
home she was about to enter. It was impressive, the kind of house Summer had
often admired. Now, as she admired the Edwardian-style two story brick-and
quarry stone building before her, she smiled a soft smile inside. The carved
stone pillars said strength and support; the large, crystal clean windows spoke
to her very soul of honesty and truth.
She could sense hidden eyes examining her.
Through the side gate, to the back door. The note taped to the door read,
"Ring the bell, count to ten, then enter".
Smoothing her moist palms along the soft burgundy cashmere of her dress,
inhaling deeply, Summer raised her cool soft hand to the bell, pressing it with
determination. A shrill ring announced her arrival. Summer looked at her watch.
12:30 pm, exactly on time.
"...nine, ten", she thought, reaching for the door handle. It turned easily,
the door opening at her touch like a wild flower in the morning sun.
Summer entered the house, and stood on the small landing. A short flight of
stairs led up, a longer flight led down. It was dark down below; a closed door
blocked the way up. A clothes hanger lay on the top step, a note beside it.
Picking up the folded piece of paper, Summer revealed a piece of leather.
Looking at it closely, she realized it was a blindfold.
She didn't even have to read the note to know what was coming. But she read
it anyway. With the unconscious grace borne of long habit, she brushed a
shoulder length lock of hair back from her cheek.
"My dear Summer," it began. "Thank you for coming - I wasn't sure if you
would. I plan to make your visit to my home an enjoyable and memorable one for
us both.
"If you have second thoughts and should choose to leave, please do so now. I
will respect your decision, and will disappear from your life. To stay is to
give your consent to all that will and may happen.
"Please follow all my instructions exactly as I have written them here to
explore your fantasies.
1. Remove all your clothes except the undergarments I instructed you to wear.
The hanger is for this purpose - there is a hook on the wall beside the door."
Summer looked to find the hook. She turned back to the note.
"2. Place the blindfold over your eyes, and carefully - very carefully -
descend the stairs.
"I am waiting for you.
"Geoffrey."
Summer hesitated. This was her moment of truth. Her first meeting with
Geoffrey, the mysterious "G". Her mind raced back to their first encounter on
the chat line.
Summer had dabbled in bondage several years back with her ex, and found she
enjoyed it very much - more than he did, in fact. But as things go, their
marriage went, and she moved on. Now 32, Summer had turned to the net for fun
and friendship and who knows what else. She had been idly surfing, playing on
the BDSM chat lines and connections sites. To her amazement, she had stumbled
across this fascinating man who lived in the same city as she - what were the
odds? They had corresponded furiously, sharing very intimate e-encounters, he
always on top. Then one day, she found herself typing in the fateful line:
"When can I meet you?"
"Soon enough little one," he replied.
Thereafter, she included the one word in all her correspondence with this
mysterious man: "when?"
Tuesday, she opened her mailbox to find the message: "Are you ready to
explore, my little one? Come to me this week. Geoffrey"
"When, where, yes, yes, YES!" she had replied.
His response shot back as if he had been waiting for her.
"Come to me on Friday, spend the day, possibly the weekend, and perhaps even
your life with me. The time has come, the time is right, the time is now.
Friday, at 12:30, Come to me my little one, and we will discover each other."
His address followed when she fired back more enthusiastic "yes"es.
And now, here she was.
The time has come, she thought, to put my money where my mouth is. She
shrugged her coat from her shoulders. Reaching behind, she grasped the pull to
the zipper, and began to slide it down. In seconds, her dress, the favourite she
had selected especially to please the mysterious "G", was on the floor in a heap
at her feet. Bending down, she slipped it on the hangar provided and placed it
on the hook.
A nervous tremor coursed her body. She reached for the leather blindfold.
Feather light, the leather felt heavy in her hands. Placing it over her hazel
eyes, she plunged herself into a world of darkness, and out of the world she
knew. She was committing herself to servitude to this stranger. She shivered,
gooseflesh appearing on her arms. Turning, Summer placed a hand against the wall
to steady herself and to guide her descent into the yawning dark.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, her heart pounding furiously with
excitement and anticipation. She lowered her hands to her side.
"Hello?" she queried, a tremolo in her voice.
"Hush, little one." The response came from her left, the voice soft,
seductive, caressing her emotions to soothe and calm.
Silence, then a touch on her shoulder. Startled, Summer flinched.
"Easy, my precious," he soothed. "I am here, beside you. You are very
beautiful, and I wish to admire your beauty."
Summer blushed - she did not think she was beautiful. Her hair was the color
of cinnamon, and fell loose to her shoulders. Lovers and friends had told her
she was cute and attractive, and she knew her figure was pleasant to look at -
pretty good, in fact - but she thought it would be nicer if she weighed 15
pounds less. Nevertheless, she went to the gym three times a week and tried to
keep in good shape, toned and fit.
The caress was soft, like velvet. He touched her shoulders, her back, his
fingers catching the bra strap and pulling. In a reverie of emotion, Summer
heard him say he will have to remove that soon, but she didn't care. His hands,
so soft, gentle yet firm, smoothed down her back, around her waist. She squirmed
as he skimmed by her buttocks, and then slid his hands down both her arms. She
felt his hands take her wrists, drawing them behind her.
The silken strap he wound around her wrists jolted Summer back to reality.
She was half-naked, blindfolded, and being tied up by a man she had never seen!
She moved to free her hands, but too late! Trapped!
"Easy little one," he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. She could feel the
fabric of his slacks with her bound hands as he pressed himself into her. He
held her close, tight.
"Summer, lovely Summer, your adventure is about to begin. From this moment
forth, you will call me Master, do you agree?"
"Ye-yes," she stammered nervously.
"Yes what, Summer?" His voice was gentle, but firm.
"Yes, master?" She responded. Nerves turned her natural speaking voice into a
soft whisper.
"Good girl," he praised her. "You have much to learn, but you seem to learn
quickly. This will be truly marvelous! Now, I wish to continue my tour of your
lovely body."
His breath was hot and moist against Summer's neck. She tilted her head back
as his hands roamed her upper shoulders, and slowly traveled down across her
bra. He cupped her covered breasts, making her moan softly. She felt one of his
hands move slowly down her belly while the other was on her neck, under her
chin, thrusting her head back. The kiss on her neck startled her, a tingle of
excitement racing through her body. Without thinking, she pressed herself into
him. His free hand touched her furry mound through her panties. Summer moaned
again. She moved, parting her legs slightly. He chuckled softly in her ear. His
hand drifted lower, skimming over the silken covered crease. Summer gasped in
pleasure at the touch. Through his slacks, her bound hands could feel him
harden.
Then suddenly, he backed off. She stood, her chest heaving with every breath.
The cold steel of the knife blade made her flinch with fear. Was she about to
die?
"No!" she exclaimed. And then, within a flash, he cut her bra straps. He
pulled the lacy fabric down from her breasts, exposing the rounded flesh.
"Trust, Summer," he said to her, his voice strong, soothing. "You must trust
me. I will not harm you. Do you believe me?"
"Yes master," she replied in a little girl's voice. Summer was very
frightened.
"Then trust me, Summer. Place your trust in me."
"Yes master," she whispered.
He kissed her left breast. The touch of his lips against her alabaster flesh
shocked her. It was so soft, tender, gentle! His hand cupped the flesh
underneath her breast, raising the delicate morsel of her nipple to his lips. He
licked, then sucked on the hardening pink bud, wringing a moan of pleasure from
his captive.
"Master!" she sighed.
"Sshh, Summer," he replied, his voice so near yet so far away. "Not a sound,
or I will be forced to gag you. And I don't want to do that, not yet."
Using the knife, he cut the rest of the lace bra from her trembling, excited
body. He ran his hands down her rib cage, admiring the soft feminine flesh,
enjoying the way his little one responded. He continued to caress and explore
her shoulders, upper arms, the valley between her rounded breasts. His hands
touched her with the force of butterfly wings, delighting and tormenting with
the delicacy of their touch. Summer moaned, unable to contain her growing
excitement, her passion and desire for this man swiftly overwhelming her.
She felt something hard, cold being pressed against her neck, wrapping around
it. She heard a click! and felt a weight fall behind her neck. A second click,
and she felt a tug at her throat.
Geoffrey spoke. "Now little one, you wear my collar, and you will wear it
while you are in my home. Do you understand? Give me your agreement, and we will
continue, otherwise I will return your dress and you can leave. Now."
Summer's voice rose barely above an impassioned whisper. "My Lord, I want to
stay. I want your collar. Please let me stay!"
"Excellent!" he praised her. A tug on the leash. "Now, come with me."
Obediently, blindly, Summer followed him. The carpet beneath her feet felt
lush, like a well-groomed lawn, as she walked behind her unseen master. It
muffled the click of her high heels. She knew the distance she traveled
physically was short, but in her heart, Summer journeyed miles.
Her new master guided her around a corner? through a doorway? and into the
centre of a room. They came to a stop. She felt the silken fabric glide around
her elbows, then suddenly pulled taut, constrict her elbows so they were almost
touching. The new bondage thrust her breasts forward in an inviting manner.
Summer grunted.
Another silken embrace, the cloth this time circling her wrists and, wrapping
around her small, feminine waist, cinching her wrists against the small of her
back. She was truly helpless now.
"Summer, lovely Summer," came his soothing, soft voice. She started at the
touch of his hand against her breast. She could feel the wetness seeping into
her panties.
"Don't worry, little one, I'll be kind to you," Geoffrey said reassuringly.
Then his voice took on a harder edge. "This time, that is." He continued to
stroke and caress her. "Now, I want you to tell me what you feel, and if you
like it, whenever and where ever I touch you. Do you understand, Summer?"
"Yes, " she whispered. The sudden pain in her nipple was electric.
"Yes what, Summer?" he growled.
"Yes, Master!" she replied in a whimper.
He pinched the other nipple simultaneously. Summer felt the firebolt through
her entire chest. her belly fluttered.
"Yes WHAT, Summer?"
She didn't now what to say. Hadn't she given him the correct response by
calling him Master? Then she realized her mistake.
"Ye-yes Master, It hur ... " she stammered, "it hurts when you pinch me."
"Hmmm", was the only response she received. Summer's nipples ached when he
released them. Her legs wobbled as his hand trailed down her smooth soft belly
to the top of the white cotton panties. He slid his hand beneath the elastic
waistband and pulled up, sharply. Summer gasped in surprise as the white cotton
slid up the soft velvety crease between her legs, rubbing harshly against her
most tender parts. With one hand, he held the fabric tight against her. His
other hand slid across her waist and hip, down to her beleaguered feminine
parts. He felt her heat, her wetness. Summer moaned and thrust her hips
reflexively at his touch. His fingers parted the fleshy folds of her labia,
encouraging the white cotton panty to press against her innermost parts. The
cloth stayed put when he released the waistband.
Summer felt a hand against her shoulder, a second against the small of her
back. Pressure from the hands caused her to move her naked, helpless body. She
felt herself being turned to face a different direction - which way didn't
matter, for in her blindfolded world, all the compass points were the same.
When he commanded her to sit, Summer obeyed. Cautiously she bent her knees
until her buttocks touched a cushioned seat. With her hands tied as they were,
she could feel the fabric and tickings of her perch. Clearly it was not a chair,
for it had no back. A bench of some sort? His hand on the inside of her knees
snapped her back to reality.
"Your knees must never touch when you are in my presence, Summer," he scolded
gently as he pulled her legs apart. Summer mewled in trepidation as he tied her
ankles to the chair? bench? Wooden legs. She heard the sounds of a bottle being
opened, and liquid being poured into a glass.
"This is our first real life meeting, isn't it, lovely Summer?" he began. "So
I want to first reassure you that you are safe here with me. Yes, there will be
some pain, but it will be lovingly administered, and received. And remember,
Summer, how can you judge pleasure if you don't know about pain?"
"Yes Master," she said softly. "Master is right. Master is always right."
"Good girl!" She could hear the smile in his voice. "As a reward, you may
have a drink."
Summer felt a glass press against her lips. She opened her mouth just a
little, and felt a liquid, cold, icy cold, flow past her teeth. She could smell
the fragrance of the wine as its melange of fruit and other flavours burst upon
her tongue. She swallowed, savouring the taste.
Her heart stopped. His tongue, hot, wet and unexpected, slid across her moist
red lips, sipping the wine from her tender flesh. The sudden intimacy took her
breath away.
Summer felt herself being lowered on to her back. She felt hardness against
her shoulder blades and arms, a hardness that was eased by the soft but firm
upholstery. Her head and back were supported, but only barely by the narrowness
of the bench. Her round, smooth buttocks were flattened by her supine position.
Summer suddenly realized that with her ankles tied to the legs of the bench, she
was totally exposed and at the mercy of her unseen master.
Her terror began to rise. Every breath was shallower than the one before
until she was almost gasping.
"Easy little one," he soothed. Summer whimpered as he gently caressed her
breasts while he spoke. "You must trust in me. You do trust me, don't you
Summer?"
"Yes Master, " she gasped out in a voice so unlike her own, so high and
breathy, she almost didn't recognize it. "Your slave trusts her master."
"Good girl," he said. He took her nipple in his mouth, sucking on the pinkish
bud until it was hard against his tongue. A sharp little nip made her gasp. He
turned his attention to the other breast. Another sharp nip, another gasp.
Summer felt the cold liquid trickle, then splash against her bare skin. The
coldness made gooseflesh rise on her displayed body. She almost orgasmed when he
began to suck and lick the wine from her breasts, his tongue running hot trails
up and down the tender flesh beneath and between her soft globes. Lower and
lower he traveled, sucking the liquid from her belly, her waist. She thrashed in
her bonds but it was clear to her that she wasn't going anywhere without his
consent. The heat, so wet, so delicious, built in her feminine crease, the taut
cotton of her panties still pressing hard against her clit.
He pulled her panties away from her skin, and dribbled wine down into her
lower abdomen. The coldness ran into her fur.
"Let's get these out of the way," he mused.
"Oh!" Summer exclaimed as he cut the cotton panties in half, and then pulled
the binding cloth down between her knees. The sudden coolness of the room's air
against her most tender parts was a surprise. Then she felt his body between her
knees.
But it was the wine, more wine dribbled on her that made Summer cry out.
"Master!" She realized he was kneeling between her splayed legs.
He did not respond, other than to lick the rapidly warming liquid from the
skin just above the gentle line where her soft furry covering began. Summer felt
his hand, large and strong, slide between her buttocks and the bench.
Involuntarily, hot with desire for his touch, she flexed, raising her butt from
the bench. He kneaded the soft flesh, the pain bruising yet so delightful to
her. She raised herself higher as his fingers explored the hidden crevice
between her cheeks, teasing and tickling the sensitive skin. Her breath was hot,
hard. Summer could feel the sexual desire, the need building and building. He
cupped one cheek in his hand, lifting her, exposing her.
His mouth, hot, sudden, hard against her labia wrung a sound from her Summer
had never heard before. What was happening to her? she asked in a faraway corner
of her mind. Shut up and enjoy! said the rest of her consciousness.
His tongue lapped at her love bud, his fingers gently peeling the coral skin
back to better expose it. He sucked on her, driving her higher and higher. Her
hips bucked, thrusting her hot moist cavern against his face, his tongue, his
chin.
The orgasm burst upon her like a tsunami against the shore: hard, suddenly,
with a force unequalled in nature. Wave after wave, each bigger than the
preceding. A kaleidoscope of colours burst against her eyes as she squeezed them
shut. Someone, somewhere, was screaming in pleasure.
Gently, he lowered her back to the bench.
Summer lay there panting, her breasts hard, her belly aflame.
He was gone from between her legs now.
She missed him already.
Music still played in the distance.
Slowly, her racing heart stilled. She gathered her wits about her once more.
"Whew! That was something," she said to herself. "Now, if I could get
free..." She tested her bonds but they held fast.
"Well, Summer," came his voice. "I hope you enjoyed yourself?"
"Oh, yes" she replied, her voice full of pleasure. "I ..."
The smack across her breast made her cry in pain.
"Manners, slave! Mind your manners when you speak to me!" He scolded.
The sudden pain in her breast stunned her.
"You must learn some manners, little Summer," he said. "And I'm about to give
you your first lesson." Releasing her from her supine position, he drew her up
to her feet. With one hand circling both dainty bound wrists, he lifted her
hands higher up the small of her back
"Ow!" she cried at the sudden blow of his free hand against her ass.
Geoffrey turned her about so that now she faced the piano bench. He smacked
her again, hard, and then pushed her down. Summer fell to her knees. Her breasts
were crushed against the fabric as he pinned her there upon the bench
She heard the distinctive whoosh of leather against fabric, and knew Geoffrey
had just removed the leather belt from his slacks. She whimpered in fear that
she was about to feel the belt against her tender skin.
Summer was both surprised and relieved when Geoffrey pushed her legs
together, then used the belt to cinch them to the piano bench. She realized with
a start just how vulnerable her new position was - breasts mashed against a
bench, hands bound behind her, legs secured to the bench, and her ass raised
high in the air.
"Summer, sweet little Summer, have you ever been spanked?" Geoffrey asked,
his hand slowly, sensually gliding over her rounded buttocks.
"Not since I was a little girl, Master, sir."
"Well then, this will be a new experience for you."
She felt his hand, so broad and so strong, give her ass a few gentle
pats. She was surprised to feel the touch of his lips and tongue against her
flesh.
"Here is how it will work, little one. I am going to spank you, first
with my hand, then with a pony whip, a paddle and finally, a cane. Six strokes
with each. You will count each stroke and thank me for it.
"If you object, Summer, then do so now. But know this, " he bent his
face close to hers, "if you ask me to stop now, then I will send you away, never
to return. If you agree, then there is no turning back. "
Summer was torn. She did not want pain, but the prospect of receiving a
spanking was strangely exciting. And she did not want to leave Geoffrey, never
to see him again -- she had only just started to explore his world!
"Please sir," she finally stammered, "please Master, I've been bad." She
choked back a sudden, disconcerting sob. "I should be punished, sir."
Geoffrey kissed the side of her face.
"Thank you, Summer," he whispered.
The first smack of his hand caught her completely by surprise. It came
suddenly, without warning, while his lips were near her face, so close she could
feel his breath. And the blow was hard, harder than she expected. It stung.
"Summer?" he asked, the sound of her name ominous.
"One, Master, thank you."
She could feel her body tensing just as the second slap, this time
across her other cheek, drew a sharp gasp from her.
"Two, Master, thank you!"
The third smack hurt as much as the first two, as did the fourth and
fifth. It was the sixth slap of his hand that brought a tear to her eyes.
Geoffrey had caressed her pink ass flesh, soothingly, running his hand over the
taut mounds, teasing and tantalizing her before bring it down with a sudden
swack! that made her jump.
"Ow! Six Master!" she sobbed. "Thank you Master!""
"I don't care if you cry, Summer, and in fact, I look forward to your
tears," commented Geoffrey. "That was my hand. Next will be the pony whip. You
will notice the difference, and I am expecting you to tell me about it when we
are done."
"Yes Master," she whimpered submissively. She lay on the bench, her
breathing shallow and rapid. Her bum stung like it never had before, at least
not since she was a little girl. It embarrassed her, it frightened her. And she
was tremendously excited. Summer could feel wetness and heat growing between her
legs.
Geoffrey admired his new plaything. Summer lay face down on his bondage
bench. Her ass was pink from his hand. He liked the look and shape of her ass,
the firmness of the rounded globes, the way they fit so nicely in his hand. Yes,
he thought, she was very nice indeed. He smiled, for so far she had been very
receptive to her bondage and discipline, as gentle as it had been. She responded
quickly and seemed very willing. He wondered how she would do under greater
pressure and demand.
He stepped over to the table a few feet away. An array of toys for use
on his new slave covered the top. Humming to himself, Geoffrey dallied over his
selection, although he already knew which toy to select. He wanted to heighten
the suspense, to add to the feeling of helplessness and anticipation he knew
Summer was experiencing. Mind games yes, was his subconscious thought, but the
pleasures they bring!
Whoosh! The thin riding crop sliced through the air like an F-14. Summer
started at the sound. Geoffrey smiled, and waved it around some more.
"No. Perhaps something heavier," he mused, his eyes locked on Summer's
sweet body. She mewled her fright, wriggling delightfully. "Ah yes, this one,"
he teased, for there was only one crop to select. He slapped at the table with
the crop. A sharp crack rang out. Summer jumped, moaning and wincing at the
sound.
Geoffrey smiled. And walked over to his helpless playmate.
"Master?" she begged, "please don't hurt me, Master?"
Geoffrey trailed the whip down her spine. Its touch was light, so light,
like a feather or a butterfly wing. Just enough to make the girl squirm.
"Sweet Summer, it will hurt only for a few minutes," he soothed. Ever so
lightly, he tapped her pink buttock with the whip.
"Unh!" came her terrified response.
The screech of nails being pulled penetrated her stupor.
