Bedroom eyes 19

I raised the belt. Stephanie, over my knee, raised her arse to meet it. Her head was down, hair hanging over her face while she stared at the carpet and her hands, touching the carpet. 

I put my hand back on the small of her back to hold her in place. “This’ll be the first time you’ve ever felt my belt. I think I should make it memorable. Do you agree?”

“Get on with it please, Sir. Before I lose my nerve.”

So I transferred the belt to the hand holding her down and smacked the back if her right thigh, then the left, with my hand. Two loud claps, and one long squeal from Stephanie.

“I was saying I think your first stroke of the belt should be a stinger. So you remember it. Do you agree?” 

There was silence. Then Stephanie said, still addressing the carpet, “Yes, Sir, I agree.” 

“Good girl. Now, keep your arse up. You look just perfect, not that I need to tell you that. And count down, aloud from five.”

“Oh. I see. Five.”

“Good girl. Clever girl.”

“Four… Three… Two…” There was a pause. Stephanie was very still. “One.” 

I said, “Zero,” and brought the belt down, across the pink crown of her bottom. The crack of leather and flesh impacting filled the room, and Stephanie jolted down onto my lap, her hip hard against my cock, also hard.


She danced horizontally on my lap, her legs up and kicking, thighs spread as if she was swimming. “”Yeeeee-oww! Yeeosh! Yosh!” 

I said, “Good girl, little love. That one had to be memorable. It had to mean something.”

“Yow! Oh Sir you bastard! That’s memorable! Do I count down again?”

“No love. Just for the first. Now relax. We’re going on a little ride together.” I swung the belt again, catching her just a little lower, about half as hard. The sound of impact was still impressive, and I heard Stephanie’s squeals again, though not quite as loud or as anguished. I was falling in love, or lust, with that sound. 

I gave her the remaining four at the same intensity, and by the sixth stroke Stephanie had relaxed. No more jolting and no more squeals. I judged that she was back to enjoying herself. I put my hand on that hot, red skin and rubbed, then squeezed her and pressed my thumb into her anus.

Her movements slowed, and she tightened on my fingers and sighed. I smacked her lightly with my holding-her-down hand. “Ready for your second six?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And Sir?”

“Little Steph?”

“That first one was a bastard. I’ll remember that, long as I live. But … the others: you can go a little harder, Sir.” 

“Do I need your permission, Stephanie?”

Actually I did, since certain agreements hadn’t been made. But she shook her head. I had to imagine her facial expression: I was sure she was being minxish again. “No Sir, you do not.”

“That’s right,” I lied.

I gave her the next five, making each just a little harder than the one before. There was no more squealing: her reaction was slower, her breathing more languorous. She was drifting into that mental space where I could keep belting her for hours and not hurt her at all. We’d do that one day, I thought. Then I thought, We’ll do it soon.

But I said, “Last stroke. The last one is usually memorable too.” 

I’m not sure if she heard me, or if she was listening to words. But I raised the belt a little higher than before, and swung it harder. The impact sound was, well, there’s beauty in these things, but Stephanie only said, “Hahh!” 

I held the belt to her mouth. “That’s all for now. You’re a brave, good and deeply fuckable woman. Hold this.” 

Stephanie nodded at me. There were tears on her eyes and on her eyebrows, which is what comes of crying when your face is upside down. She smiled, pleased to see me, then opened her mouth so I could stow the belt. I sat up straight then, and lifted her with one arm under her thighs, the other under her belly, and kissed her blazing hot bottom.

Kisses have magic curative powers, my mother had always taught me. 

Bedroom Eyes 18

Stephanie, over my knee, bottom freshly and pinkly spanked, looked up at me. I’d just asked her if she’d like the remaining twelve smacks to be delivered by my belt rather than my hand. She looked at Maires then, kneeling in front of her so their faces were close, then back at me.

“If I say I like your hand, and that’s what I want, then you just spank me with your hand? No belt?”


“Well, I do like your hand. It feels intimate, when you’re spanking me. The belt would hurt more.”

I looked over at Maires. “Maires, you’ve had both. Lots of both. What do you think?”

Maires smiled up at me, then looked Stephanie in the eyes. “Stephanie, Master has a hard hand. He can spank every bit as hard as a belt can land. He’s keeping you comfortable because he wants you to have a good time – I think you can guess why – and that won’t change if you choose the belt. Or not so much that you don’t enjoy yourself.”

“But it’s a piece of leather. It isn’t him.”

Maires shook her head. “Still his hand, and you’ll know it. It’s definitely personal.”

Stephanie was silent for nearly a minute. She looked back at me. “I’m over your knee getting a spanking. So we’re playing a sexy game. That’s … not really weird. But if you use  a belt across my arse, then that’s not playful. It’s more real. That would be unusual. Well, it’d be weird, if I picked that and then liked it.”

I smiled and rubbed her arse. For comfort, hers and mine. She waited but I said nothing, just slipped two fingers between her buttocks and stroked near her cunt, but without touching. She sucked in a breath.

“If I pick the belt, will you stroke my cunt properly? And then fuck me after?” 

“Yes, but it’ll make no difference. My hand or my belt: I’ll still choose when I stroke you, and when I fuck you. You don’t get to make deals, love. Call that Submission 101.”

I moved my fingers back, further from her cunt. She clenched her buttocks to trap my fingers in place. It was too nice a trap to resist. Maires was staring at me, wanting to speak. I said to her, “Any more advice?”

“Stephanie, you’re right about intimacy. It’s really important, especially when we’re doing this. But believe me, the belt is intimate. It’s still Master’s hand, wielding the thing. But also, it feels very intense. You know it and he knows it, He’s watching you carefully, and you know he is. You feel his focus, on you. There’s a real mental connection between you. I like both his hand and his belt.”

“But you’re a weirdo.”

Maires grinned. “Yeah, I even like it when he canes me and fucks me up the arse afterwards. But you don’t have to be afraid of going further. That’s just old programming. I mean, you aren’t really scared of the belt, are you? You’re scared that you’ll enjoy it, a lot, and then you’re scared that you’ll be changing.”

“I…” Stephanie looked back at me. “Do I have to call you Sir, or Master like Maires does, if I pick the belt?”

“No. That’s a separate discussion. You’ll watch the end of Maires’s punishment first. Then we’ll talk about that, all three of us. But I really do think you’ll find the belt an interesting experience.”

Stephanie laughed. “That’s not the word I’d choose! But all right, I must be as mad as Maires. Belt me, darling.”

“Twelve strokes, little one.”

“Still sounds weird. ‘Little one’.”

 I looked at Maires. She’d put the belt down by the wall when I’d given her permission to speak. “Little one, bring me the belt, please.”

Stephanie relaxed her muscles, holding my fingers. I stroked her cunt as a reward, then slipped my fingers into her. She sighed and opened her thighs further. So we were in communion, happy. Maires brought me the belt. “I think she wants it hard, Master.” 

Stephanie stared at Maires, outraged or mock-outraged. Then she made an indignant, “Well I never”, sound through her nose and I knew she was still playing. 

I tapped the belt lightly across the underside of Stephanie’s gorgeous bottom. “Noted.”

Bedroom Eyes 17

Stephanie rested over my knee, gazing into Maires’s eyes, as Maires knelt in front of her. They held eye contact, but Stephanie put her hands together to hold my right foot. She said, “Second quarter. Six more.” Then she wiggled on my lap, breaking her promise not to be a minx. “Do your worst.”

I could have added extra spanks for that, but the truth is that I was too pleased that Stephanie was having fun. So I rubbed her bottom gently. “I’ll do my best. Maires, in one of my spankings, are the second six lighter or harder than the first six?”

Maires looked up at me, amused. “I’m sure Stephanie’s already guessed, Master. But of course they’re harder.” Then she looked back into Stephanie’s eyes. “And so they should be. You know that.”

Stephanie said nothing, but bowed her head.

Her arse had already deepened in colour from pink to red, and my rubbing had confirmed that she was warm. Then my hand landed on her left cheek, definitely harder than I’d ever smacked her before.

She gasped, and her arse bobbed and writhed appealingly while she dealt with the impact. Clearly, she was starting to feel this.

I smacked her again, on te right, and then gave her four more quite hard spanks, so that there were cries to hear, and she needed to be held in place while her spanking reached its halfway point. I asked Maires, “Is she crying?”

“No, Master. Not … quite. But she will be by the second dozen. Won’t you, Steph?”

“Er, I wouldn’t be surprised, Ma’am.”

“Oh, Steph, I’m not anybody’s Ma’am. Well, maybe a submissive boi sometimes, but never a woman. I’m a slavegirl here, same as you.” 

It was the fiirst time Stephanie had been called a slave. Oddly, she didn’t seem to notice. I rubbed her arse again, appreciating the firm, red heat of her, and reached down to stroke her cunt.

She stiffened, raising her head and feet, when my fingers entered her.

I stroked her, inside and out, until her hips were rising and falling again and her breathing was slow and loud. I said, “So how are you doing, after your first dozen, little one?”


“Oh, it’s a thing Doms often call submissives. And slavegirls. It’s very, very affectionate. Well, loving, actually.”

“Oh. It sounds odd. Though I suppose I am quite little. Anyway, I expect I’ll come to like it. Sorry, what was the question? Mas – Sir?”

“How are you feeling now?”

She only gurgled. I was distracting her. I took my fingers out of her and rubbed her heated bottom again. Then she sighed comfortably. “It’s hot. It should hurt, but it doesn’t feel like hurt. Completely different. I feel – I feel very close to you. Emotionally. And I really want your cock tight now. You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?” 

I said nothing, but smacked her lightly, then returned to kneading her arse. She sighed. “There’s something hot about the fact that it’s not up to me. And if I made any demands, while I’m over your knee, you’d find it pretty easy to punish me.”

“Do you like that thought?” 

“Yes. I really do. This is so not my usual world. But it’s nice here. Sexy. And safe, weirdly enough.”

“You nearly called me Master, like Maires does. I’m not your Master.”

She hummed a piece of music that I knew I knew, but couldn’t place it at the time. It was, “Annie, I’m not your Daddy.” Kid Creole. That sort of indicates roughly when this was happening..

In the meantime I ignored it. “We have to discuss that and make some agreements first. Would you like to talk about what belonging to me would involve?” 

There was a long silence while Stephanie stared into Maires’s eyes. Eventually Maires nodded at her. She said, “Yes. Yes, I would like to have that discussion, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Stephanie wiggled once, and her feet returned to the carpet. She liked being a good girl. “Stephanie, you know I’m not going to be spanking Maires with my hand, when she gets the second half of her punishment. What’s she going to get?”

“Your belt, Sir?”

“Yes. Now, Stephanie, love, you’ve done nothing to deserve the belt.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“But would you like me to use it on you anyway? For your second half? Before we talk about what being a slavegirl means?”

Stephanie raised her head again. She looked back at me, astonished.