A Very Personal Trainer (3 page)

22

A Very Personal Trainer

by Justine Elyot

I was so deep in the morass of personal humiliation and despair that I didn't notice he was no longer sitting opposite me, so I jumped high enough to kick the chair over when his voice materialised in my ear.

"It can be arranged," he said.

"Fuck! How did you do that?"

He had to put a hand on my shoulder, to stop me going into florid meltdown.

"Shhh, Lara, listen. Look at me and tell me it's what you want."

I looked at him. He was tall and I had to crick my neck a bit, which made me happy. I'd have to tiptoe to kiss him.

Could I ever kiss him?

"I think it would work for me," I said, suddenly calm and confident. I think it was the nearness of him that did it.

He was like a supportive structure, absolutely leanable-on.

"I think...it would concentrate my mind if I knew that a certain level of poor performance might earn me a...um...something a bit painful."

"Why can't you say it?"

"I just...can't."

He tapped me under the chin with a finger, and the word came rushing out.

"A spanking."

"Good. Was that so hard? Have you been spanked before?"

"No."

"That's a shame. Although, maybe we wouldn't be here right now if you had. So, do you think you'd enjoy it? A spanking, I mean?"

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A Very Personal Trainer

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"I don't know. I suppose it would hurt?"

"I suppose it would."

"Have you...ever...y'know...dabbled, then?"

"Dabbled?" He laughed softly, a snuffle almost, and put a finger so close to my cheek I thought he was going to stroke it—but he thought better of it and pulled it away at the last minute. "Yes, I've dabbled. More than dabbled." He sighed briefly. "You know, this isn't the first time I've had this kind of conversation with a client."

"Oh God, really? I'm such a cliche!"

"No, no. You're not. You're by far the quickest off the mark. It usually takes months...but I've never agreed to it before. I think I could make an exception for you, though."

"An exception? Really?" I felt utterly flattered that this austere, poker-straight man was willing to smack my arse. It made me quite warm inside.

"You're so extremely in need of it, Lara," he said. I could have curled up and fallen at his feet. What a thing to say. I thought I may be in love. "I don't think I've ever met a girl so desperate for disciplinary attention."

"So...if you turn down the clients...where have you got your experience from?"

Please don't tell me you have hot and cold running slave
girls at home...please, please, please...

"Ex-girlfriends. Experiments."

Yeah for the letter ex! I smiled, far too broadly. I wished I could be enigmatic. "So...what's the verdict? Should we try this? Do you think it'll work?"

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A Very Personal Trainer

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"I've no idea. Given that you've never been spanked before, it's hard to tell. In fact...yes...I really think that, before we can move forward with planning the new regime, you need to know whether your idea of corporal punishment matches up with the reality."

"You mean...?"

He sat down in the kitchen chair and slapped his palms down on his thighs.

"I mean, you should come here and put yourself over my lap, Lara."

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A Very Personal Trainer

by Justine Elyot

Chapter Two

* * * *

"Now!"

He patted his lap and I almost dissolved with lust. I took his point about my finding this all a little too enjoyable for it to be a punishment. But, hell, I was sure I could pretend otherwise. He wasn't doing this in the spirit of self-sacrifice, after all. Whether I loved it or hated it, we were both winners in the end.

"Feels a little surreal," I hedged, rendered immobile by the intense oddness of it all.

"Believe me, my dear, it will be feeling anything but
surreal
in a moment or two. Now bend over my lap or I'll take my spreadsheet and leave."

No! Please don't take the spreadsheet! I was almost giggling as I tried to arrange myself as neatly as possible over his sharply creased trousers. I was concerned for him, worried that the weight of me would crush his thighs, but I soon realised that my anxieties were misplaced, for his lap was rigid and strong and I fell across it like a big, clumsy rag doll. What I must have looked like to him! I wondered how my backside compared to the others of his acquaintance, but 26

A Very Personal Trainer

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then I remembered that comparison with ex's is the way to madness and I resolved to hang on to the moment and extract the maximum amount of fantasy juice from it. Who knew how many long, cold, lonely nights I'd need this memory to warm me?

He seemed quite happy with my bottom anyway, running a hand across the seat of my leggings. They were only thin cotton and I found myself wishing I'd gone for jeans, or the fleece-lined jogging pants I sometimes wore when I had no plans to leave the flat. Maybe I'd knit myself a pair of knickers for next time and line them with leather. Even the faintest tap of his palm made me want to vault forwards onto the floor. I was stiff and pent-up with nervous tension.

"We don't have to do this," Dexter reminded me. "Perhaps you should relax. I'm not going to kill you, you know. This is just a taster. You're in control."

I'm in control, am I? Upended over a strange man's thighs
with my legs swinging through the air and my bottom primed
for a spanking
. It was an interesting version of the situation, but then everything was topsy-turvy now. I was in UpsideDownLand, and Dexter appeared to be the reigning monarch.

"Right, stop kicking and get your feet down, please."

The firm tone of his voice did what no words of reassurance could do, and I instinctively let my shoulders drop and my legs stop their scissoring ballet.

"Better. Perhaps we'll have to work on presentation and posture. Next time."

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Oooh,
next time
. I quivered and moistened beneath the inadequate cotton crotch of my leggings. He meant business.

Business with my rear end.

"Ouch!"

I overreacted to the first swipe, which was not hard, but came out of nowhere. His hand had landed on my arse. It was so loud! Much louder than I'd thought it would be. I yanked up my head and looked around me, worrying vaguely about the neighbours, though I was sure they were at work all day anyway.

"Did that hurt?" Dexter sounded surprised.

"No, not really," I admitted. "Just...the feeling. It's new.

And it's loud."

"It seems louder than it really is," said Dexter. "Though if you're really worried about noise, there are quieter implements. Ironically, those tend to be the ones that make their recipient shout the loudest, though."

"Oh, yes, that's very ironic, ouch!" I said, caught once more by the strange, hand-shaped pain alighting on my left bum cheek.

"Your pain threshold is quite low. These are just pats."

Dexter sounded disappointed, and I wanted very badly to dispel that disappointment, if that wasn't too weird of me.

"Again—just surprise, Dexter. It feels...not at all bad." It felt good! A rush of stimulating sensation across the globes and down into the valleys, making me push out for more, harder, more.

"You're enjoying it?"

"I...well, yeah. Oh!"

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A Very Personal Trainer

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Dexter tried a harder smack, and it did hurt, but not enough for me to want him to stop—nowhere near enough for that. So he tried a few more, his spanking hand travelling across each peach, down as far as my thighs, until I felt so deliciously warm and wet that I feared my leggings might soon melt. I squirmed in his lap, forgetting to worry about how I looked or what he thought of me, just letting myself fall into the heady sensation of submission.
It's so easy
, I crowed to myself, grinding my hips and gasping more from arousal than distress.
It's so easy to take a spanking! Why would
anyone not enjoy this? Why is it ever considered a
punishment
?

"Is this what you wanted?" Dexter asked politely. "Is this the way forward?"

"Ohhh yes, I think so," I purred, and then, without warning, he picked up pace to a diabolical degree, slapping hard and fast across both cheeks and I began to squeal, began to dance in earnest, and
now
he'd answered my question. Now I knew why it would be considered a punishment. It was painful!

"Ah! Oh! Ah! Ouch! No! It hurts! Dexter! Oh! Ouch!" I was writhing strenuously, keen to elude his relentless hail of spanks, and I put up a hand in a desperate attempt to shield my bottom. He grabbed the wrist, held it tight above the small of my back, and stopped.

"That's a real spanking," he said. "Hurts, doesn't it? Not like the fantasy version."

"Yes," I peeped, ashamed at my pathetically poor tolerance level.

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A Very Personal Trainer

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"So what do you think?"

I couldn't see him, still hanging off his lap with one arm twisted in his grasp, so my thoughts came slowly and without much coherence.

"What do I think? Of spanking? Or...?"

"Do you like it?"

"I think so."

"Would you want me to go harder? Faster? To make it really sting? Because that was nothing, Lara. That was nothing at all."

"I think...if you made it harder, it really would be a punishment. It wouldn't be a pleasure at all."

"I see. Do you still want to use it as a disciplinary measure?"

I felt that he was waiting for me to climb down and apologise and admit that I had no idea what I was talking about. Then our relationship would go back to what it was—

paid organiser and disorganised client, consumer and service provider.

But could a consumer who'd been spanked by the service provider ever go back to the original footing? I couldn't see a way back from this. He'd had me over his lap and made my bottom sore. Everything had changed, and I didn't want to lose this new and intriguing facet of our relationship. Even as my bottom glowed and the skin felt uncomfortably tight, I knew I was going to want him to spank me again. Often, perhaps.

"I...can I think about it?"

"Of course," he said, letting me up.

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A Very Personal Trainer

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I stood beside him against the kitchen table and placed a curious hand against my bottom. Warm. Like a radiator. Nice.

"Lots of people fantasise about being taken in hand," he told me. "But most don't really want it to happen." He sighed.

"I do!" I said impulsively.

He turned to me, his face slightly alarmed, but the kind of alarm that comes from the extreme closeness of a wish fulfilled—that 'is this real?' kind of alarm. His eyes behind the spectacles were fathomlessly hopeful. He was attractive, much more attractive than his dress and manner gave him credit for. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn't dare.

"You just asked for time to think. Don't you want that any more?"

"I want to be held to account," I said, softly. "I want you to do it."

"And you won't backslide just because you like what I do to you?"

"No. I promise. I'll try just as hard as I would have done anyway."

"Then we have an understanding. But I hope you'll understand that I need to test your resolve."

"My resolve?"

"I can't just spank you and leave. Domination and submission creates an intense experience that leads to a bond between the participants. I would be negligent towards you if I didn't offer a little bit more."

"A little bit more?"

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A Very Personal Trainer

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"Let me put it this way." He put out a hand and pulled me over to stand in front of him, our knees touching, mine shivering, his firm. "Are you wet?"

I drew in a breath, colouring to the same red as my bottom. I could not meet his eyes, but eventually I nodded.

"Look at me," he said. The softness of his voice hid an edge of true steel.

I dragged my eyes from my feet.

"Tell me, Lara."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good. I need to test your obedience now. You can say no, but if you do, I will leave and we'll speak no more of this. Put your hand down inside your knickers."

The calm way he delivered the order sent further floods of wetness to stain the already damp cotton of my leggings. In a kind of spell, or dream, I held my mouth open, tried to keep breathing, and did as I was told.

"Good girl," he said gently, waiting for my fingers to settle between my gushing lips, watching the outline of my knuckles stretching the fabric. "What do you feel there?"

"I feel...wet." I wanted to add, 'Sir,' but felt too self-conscious initially—but then I figured that he would love it if I did, so I bit my lip, looked him full in the eye and said, "Very wet, Sir."

His cheek muscles flickered. A smile of pleasure was being tactically suppressed.

"Why do you think that is?" he asked.

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"I...don't know." I knew he wouldn't accept this cop out, but I needed a moment to compose the words into a combination that wasn't too mortifying.

"Of course you know, Lara. I must have an answer or I'll have to punish you again."

Oh God, those words. I pressed a fingertip to my clit; it was swollen and it throbbed with need.

"Because...I get aroused...by submitting to you, Sir."

He tilted his head forward, acknowledging the truth of my answer. "And what does that make you?" he asked lightly.