The Alexandra Series (32 page)

“Over the table?” the old man suggested. “Or maybe you’d have her across your lap?”

“Not over the lap for these,” Reggie said. “They require more distance between me and her ass.”

The man nodded, agreeing.

“Bend over the table,” he turned to me, and motioned to a table set against the wall. I eyed the hefty oak piece with some consternation. It looked to hit me at mid thigh, so much lower than a dining table. My rear end would be raised high and prominent. Following his instructions, I bent over, with my arms tucked to my chest and resting on the table. My dress pulled up automatically, so with no effort at all the greater part of my rear end was exposed.

“Mr. Winningham, perhaps you’d like to begin,” Reggie suggested. I could just imagine the look on the old man’s face with the sudden opportunity to punish my bottom.

“So, she’s been misbehaving?” he asked.

“Brazenly so,” Reggie said. “Haven’t you, Alexandra?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“And you deserve all three implements today?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t believe I was agreeing to this, though there was the allure of the moment, wondering how each implement would affect my rear. And of course, there was my seductive attraction to pain and the sexual desire that would surely follow.

“You’re practically begging for this, aren’t you?” he continued. He stood next to me, his hand on my back, his words falling on me gently as if he was granting me some magnanimous favor. I assumed the question was rhetorical.

“Alexandra is being punished for adultery,” Reggie informed the old man.

“Reggie!” I tried to object. Adultery was for married people, not me.

He pushed me down firmly, answering my protest in a steely voice. “My charge here has flagrantly broken the trust of the man that loves her. I think adultery is the only apt description of her crime.”

“Then she should be dealt with severely,” Mr. Winningham agreed. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to lay on the paddle, and perhaps a few cuts of the cane.”

I couldn’t see Reggie’s reply, but I’m sure he agreed. He further lifted the hem of my dress so that my ass was entirely exposed. His hand probed my backside for some moments, massaging my cheeks, his fingers then prodding deeply into my anal cleft. Then he resumed the massage and I began to sway against his offending hand relishing the desire it raised in me.

“I want this ass on fire,” he said, and he squeezed my ass cheeks as if they were clay. “You remember how you used to punish your disobedient submissives?”

“I remember well,” the man replied.

“Then let her feel that kind of wrath. She’ll thank us both in the end.”

Hearing him talk, I was so weak with fear that my legs were like jelly.

Reggie moved away and stood back to eye my ass, as the old man stepped forward to begin.

“Ten with the paddle,” he suggested.

“Whatever suits you. Alexandra will be going nowhere until this is finished. She asked me to punish her soundly for her transgressions. She won’t flee. You have free reign.”

With my eyes closed, I waited for the first blow to strike, wondering what the impact of the paddle would do to my rear end.

My answer was not long in coming.

The paddle landed with a stinging sharp smack. I jerked and moaned something unintelligible. And then a soft penetrating warmth began to rise on my bottom.

A second blow followed the first, and then successive blows until I thought, by my internal count, that Mr. Winningham had at last reached ten. It was instantly apparent that this fierce disciplinarian was not stopping with the initial ten. He laid on what would be another ten, though I’m not sure if I was capable of counting accurately. The sensation that began as warmth, quickly turned into a stinging burn as the repeated strikes from the school paddle were generating that fire that Reggie wanted.

“Oh, please stop,” I began my pleas. I didn’t want to say a word. I knew I shouldn’t protest, but it hurt so badly, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Such a fine blush,” I heard the man exclaim. He laid another good solid smack against my bottom. He was ruthless, and had certainly not lost his touch.

At one point, he backed off. “Shall I?” he asked Reggie, referring to something that eluded me, if only for a moment. Whatever Reggie’s response was, a crack of the paddle landed with the same ruthless zeal, this time across the top of my thighs.

“Oh! Gawd!” I gasped. My bottom was one thing, my thighs something else. I wiggled madly, as if my wild dance could take away the excruciating pain.

“Calm yourself,” Reggie snapped. “Mr. Winningham, another three on her thighs,” he gave the brusque order, obviously disappointed with me.

I was petrified the instant he announced that horrible sentence, though I didn’t have much time to contemplate the inevitable, as the next crack landed right on top of the first.

“Yeeeeeeaouch!” My wail must have shook the whole building.

The next landed right after, and another, louder wail pierced the air. I jerked more, not paying any attention to Reggie’s edict, and then cried all the more when the last of the four fierce blows stung my upper legs.

I collapsed against the table. Surely this was over, at least this part of my travail.

To my relief, the two men backed off admiring Mr. Winningham’s handiwork, while I allowed my tears to flow. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. My hands were wet, and I tasted the salty tang on my lips.

“You have a very unruly brat here,” Mr. Winningham observed. “She needs a few weeks worth of punishment, at the very least to curb her flagrant defiance. I envy you your task.”

That gentle little man with the twinkle in his eye suddenly looked like a demon in my mind. If only I had the opportunity to tell him so. My heart was speaking angrily, but I was bound to remain silent.

“She’s paying dearly for her indiscretions,” Reggie assured the man. “Believe me, we’re hardly finished.”

I was thankful for the breather, but I knew before long, the remaining two implements would be tested on my posterior in the same way that the paddle had been.

I don’t recall how long it was, perhaps just minutes, or maybe even a half hour, but when I suddenly felt a tugging at my hand, I was shaken from the uncertain peace. Reggie was pulling me to my feet. Surprised by the abrupt turn, I wondered if he might be ending the session.

We were standing close. He still held my hand, and the force of his commanding presence made me weak. This was as complete a dominance of me as he’d ever had. We were so close as to feel each other’s breath. The tingling body to body sensation made me wish his hands would reach out and touch me tenderly, and bring the erotic stimulation brewing inside me to some finishing edge.

“Your bottom burns,” he acknowledged.

“Yes,” I answered, though now, it hardly burned at all. He was still holding my hand ever so lightly, as his eyes held me transfixed.

“And you need to be punished more?” he asked, though there was little question in his statement.

“Yes.” I found myself answering affirmatively, unable to deny the desire that reached from that unknown place somewhere in my depths, and bursting free made my skin feel prickly, waiting to be satisfied by more pain.

“I’m going to strap your ass severely, and will follow it with the cane,” he told me in a cold dark voice. “You’ll bear this as the good submissive you once were. Remember, Alexandra, you came to me with your need. I’m simply giving you what you want. Don’t forget why this has to happen.” It was a gentle admonishment, but his words cut clear to my soul. His eyes lingered long, longer than the echo of his words falling on my ears.

“Yes sir,” I replied with a whisper.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he suggested.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

What passed between us bonded us together, that compelling thing that drove me to him and him to me. I’ve never been able to reason our relationship; but something felt comfortable in my submission to him. Perhaps there were no expectations but the surrender. That was all I could ever have or want from him, and we both enjoyed what that meant.

With a kind hand he guided me over the table again, my naked upturned rear awaiting his further punishment. I resolved to take this with more courage than I’d shown so far.

Choosing the strap, he wasted no more time with words. The instrument flew through the air landing squarely on my behind. I jolted but didn’t wiggle away, nor did I cry out. Another stroke landed, and I felt my bottom begin to burn again. What had subsided to a soft warm glow became painfully heated.

The strap continued to land with great efficiency. I gasped and moaned, but found the pain much more pleasurable than the paddle. Something about the leather I think; and about Reggie’s delivery. By design, he was not administering punishment as fiercely as he might. If I wriggled at all, it was from the erotic passion he unleashed in me. However, after some minutes of the welcome treatment, the tenor of the punishment began to change. The strokes commenced fast and ruthless until he reached a peak with an alarming flourish.

I cried out unable to hold back any longer.

“NO MORE PLEASE!” My voice rose into the air, impassioned and woe.

Beyond erotic pleasure now, the burn was as fierce as it had earlier been with the paddle. How could he expect me not to raise a complaint?

“I’d suggest you hush,” he told me in a civil tone. “I can go on a long time. I wonder if you can.”

I quieted, smothering my protests as Reggie lay on the blows ever more efficiently. Each one seemed worse than the one before. Reggie finally stopped, just before I was about to collapse against the table, an act that would have made him furious.

The sudden quiet was remarkable.

“You’ll take eight cuts of the cane when we return, four from me, four from Mr. Winningham. You can think about your recklessness until we’re ready. I suggest Alexandra, that you remember what you are about. This dishonesty of yours does nothing but hurt you, and I’m not speaking in the physical sense. This is only a symbolic gesture, certainly your heart is suffering from your duplicity. Will certainly deserves to be treated with respect, not contempt.”

He left with that thought lingering in my mind. The shame of my transgressions spelled out so boldly, would continue to come back to haunt me. I found it strange, Reggie teaching me lessons in morality. Rarely had I felt such judgment from him. He’d taught me of my submissive nature, and though he denied it when we first met this time, I still wondered if he felt some responsibility for my lack of discipline and honesty with Will.

Left alone still bending over the old table, I had some time to ponder my situation. My ass end was likely quite a shade of crimson at the finish of the punishment; but that crimson was also likely fading with each second that passed. I breathed deeply trying to settle myself in anticipation of that dreadful cane. When Reggie and Mr. Winningham finally returned, I felt a welcome breeze further cool the fire on my once flaming cheeks. I had no desire to endure what was to follow, but at least the caning signaled the end to this chapter in my atonement.

“Since Mr. Winningham has been so kind as to procure these instruments, he’ll take the first cuts,” Reggie announced.

I’d never endured the fierceness of a cane, though my imagination could easily conjure all sorts of horrors it might inflict. Waiting seemed far worse than the punishment itself would be, though it wasn’t long before I discovered how wrong I was.

I sensed the shop proprietor move close to my backside, while Reggie waited some distance away. The man gently tapped my rear with the instrument as if to prepare me for what was to follow. What a deceiving sign that gentle tapping turned out to be. Seconds later, I heard a soft swish, and then felt a sharp pain as he landed the first searing cut. It nearly knocked me from my feet, which made me thankful that I was leaning against the sturdy table. Mr. Winningham was efficient. The following three strokes landed one after another, each with the same sharp pain shooting rocketing through me. All the pain I felt before came angrily roaring back. My immediate thought was to bolt, but that was out of the question. I asked for this and I would get through it.

Mr. Winningham’s final cut sent me into a fit of dancing and jiggling and vibrant cries. The old man was done, but there were still four left from Reggie.

“Oh, please no! Haven’t I had enough?”

Reggie moved to my side and put his hand on my ass to settle me.

“You need me to double the count?”

“No!”

“Then settle down.” He was stern, like an admonishing father.

“Sorry.”

He returned to the proper position. “You’ll have to take a look at your ass when this is over, see what it’s willing to take.” My bottom must have been quite a sight. Likely there were little marks from the previous punishment as well as those from the cane.

I was glad that Reggie would finish this. Though Mr. Winningham’s punishment had been quite effective, there was something personal, more intimate in a caning from Reggie. No one knows me the way he does, perhaps not even my frustrated Will.

Stepping back, he delivered the first cut with the savage implement landing on my bottom with a zeal equal to Mr. Winningham’s. For the life of me, I don’t understand why, but it seemed that the quality of the cut was different from the others, as if some degree of caring was involved. Did I really feel some affection from Reggie, or did I just hope to?