Chloe’s game 15

Chloe turned her head away when my arm moved, fixing her gaze on the chair seat. The strap landed with an astonishingly loud crack, wrapping itself round the lower slopes of Chloe’s buttocks.

The effect was dramatic. Chloe’s head shot up, and she sang out “heee-uuu”. On one hearing, that soprano cry became one of my sexual tastes. I wanted to hear it again.

strapped sg 1I also liked the shockwave in Chloe’s flesh, as the heavy strap impacted, though because she was fit it lasted only a second. I watched the miracle of her skin changing colour, a brilliant pink stripe emerging, blooming like a stop-motion flower, about three inches across, with sharply defined edges.

It bobbed and weaved, that stripe, as Chloe’s hips bucked in the seconds after that impact, throwing off the pain like a horse trying to throw a rider.

I waited until she’d settled and arched her bottom up again. I aimed to leave the next stripe just above the first, neither overlapping nor leaving a gap. That was misplaced confidence; no-one should expect to land a strap accurately without practice. The strap landed high, leaving a sloping welt across the top of Chloe’s left buttock and wrapping painfully high across her right hip. Chloe’s cry was higher in pitch and volume. It was the wrong sort of pain.

But I swallowed the apology I wanted to speak, because it would break the mood and make things worse. I said, in the harshest, angriest voice I could manage, “Get that bottom up, girl. You’re getting strapped. And keep still!”

That was kinder.

For the third stroke, and all those subsequent, I aimed for the fleshiest part of her buttocks, reasoning that since my aim was lousy I’d achieve a reasonable spread of strokes just by accident, and that at least the strokes would land somewhere well padded.

Chloe’s game 14

Chloe’s hands gripped the seat as fiercely as the sides of a dentist’s chair. She was excited but she was, naturally, fearful. Chloe looked up at me as I raised the strap. I felt its weight rest over my shoulder and down my back, and gazed at her, measuring. 

When I swung my arm down, and first deliberately hurt and marked Chloe with that strap, we’d both be different people. And after we’d done that, we’d do it again, and again, as it became something that we did: Jaime whips Chloe with a leather strap, you know, they do that.

I wanted to say something important but I could only think of clichés from the texts.

strapped sg 2“All right, Chloe, you’ve asked for a good strapping” – at least that was true within the game and outside it – “and now you’re going to get it. I want you to be a brave girl for me. And … um … I expect you to stay in position. If you let go of the chair, Chloe, I’ll start the strokes again. Understood?”

Chloe was having trouble speaking. But she managed to say, hoarse-throated, “Yes, sir, I understand.” 

“If you get up, I’ll start again and double the number of strokes. Do you hear me?”

 Chloe heard me, sir. Not that the threat had any meaning. I hadn’t thought about how many strokes – I’d call them lashes, the next time I spoke of them – I was going to give her, so there was no number to double.

I hoped Chloe thought that all this waiting had been stylishly cruel, but it was time to stop thinking. I took a breath and swung the strap laterally through the air.

Chloe’s game 12

“Oh, I do. Very much.” Chloe touched my cock, stroking me through my pants. We leaned against each other, silent for some time. Mr Mortimer had taken me this far. But I was starting to lose him. Or I was merging with him. Eventually I said, “But I’m going to make your bottom even prettier. How am I going to do that, Chloe?”

“Are you going to strap me, sir?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Yes. Unh.” I took her hand away from my cock, so I could think. “Let’s see. Ah. Bend over the back of the chair, Chloe. Um. And reach forward, as far down as you can manage. Grab hold of the front chair legs if you can. Then spread your legs. Now, girl.”

strapped sg 3“Yes, sir.” Chloe took the chair and turned the seat to the wall, so I would have plenty of room. She rested her belly against the chair back and bent over. She pulled up the hem of the skirt so it was well clear of her waist, and reached down to grasp the front chair legs, under the seat.

But she was, after all, a tiny woman, and that posture lifted her feet completely off the ground. She settled for holding the edge of the seat, standing on tiptoe.

She kicked the panties completely off and put her ankles outside the chair legs. She arched her back invitingly. Soft, round ivory she was, and gloriously muscular.

“Is this how you want me, sir?”

Chloe’s game 11

leg“Lift up your skirt, Chloe, right up above your waist. Good girl. That’s a very pretty cunt, isn’t it?” I placed my palm against her, fingertips just inside, and stroked wetly. I held her to me with my other arm. We were almost ourselves.

Chloe said, eventually, “I don’t know, sir.”

I squeezed her lips, enough to hurt. “Isn’t it?”

“Uhh. Yes, my cunt is very pretty, sir. Would you like to fuck me, sir?”

“Chloe, I want you more than anything in the world. Or the world.” I said that. Mr Mortimer said, “But you’ve still been a naughty girl. You’ve got a pretty little bottom, too, haven’t you?”

Chloe had to think about that. Eventually she said, “Um. You might be nice enough to think so, sir.”

Chloe’s game 10

I gave her five more strokes, feeling the temptation to go harder with each stroke, and resisting it. It seemed that in any case each stroke hurt a little more than the one before.

straphandsShe found it harder to keep her hands out for the last three strokes, and she had to breathe heavily, several times, before she could speak the last two ‘thank you, sirs’.

I lowered the strap and contemplated her. She was still panting a little, but holding her hands out bravely, not sure if I’d finished. I remembered something. “You were a very good girl then, Chloe. You’re a very brave and good girl.”

Chloe brightened. “Thank you, sir.”

I’d never used a strap on a woman before. It had clearly hurt.

My conscience was a little worried that I’d hurt her, deliberately, and I’d enjoyed watching her reactions. I’d loved her obedience. Chloe watched me, her hands still held out. To be convenient for me, in case I wanted to hurt her more.

I’d decided that six was enough for now. On her hands, at least. But it seemed best to keep her waiting for that information. At last she asked, “May I rub my hands, sir?”

I would always have said yes. But Mr Mortimer was the pilot for the moment, and that man, he was a bastard. “Of course not.”

“Ohhh, si-ir.” But she kept her hands up and presented. 

Chloe’s game 9

I considered putting my fingers in her mouth, making her lick them clean. But perhaps that’d be in the wrong genre. Another time. “Hold out your hands, Chloe.”

handon“Yes, sir.” Chloe obeyed, and watched me lift the strap and let it fall behind my shoulder. I didn’t know how hard I should swing it, but without some force it wouldn’t swing at all. Well, many generations of real schoolgirls and schoolboys had been strapped on the hand, so although I disapproved of real corporal punishment, hand-strapping must be basically safe.

I swung the strap as gently as I could while making sure the folded leather arced through the air and landed on Chloe’s outstretched hands. There was a loud swack – a heavy piece of leather doesn’t want to be gentle – and a musical “ah ow!” from Chloe.

She’d flinched before the strap landed, and winced attractively when it did. It had hurt, which was good, but not too much. It hadn’t jolted her out of her game. She kept her hands steady. A second or two later she said, “One, thank you, Sir.” 

Chloe’s game 8

“Hands on head.” She obeyed. I stepped forward. “Feet apart.” She shuffled on the spot. “Further.” She spread her legs as far as the panties at her thighs would allow.

Mr Mortimer said, “I’ve heard that there are very naughty girls who enjoy getting the strap. They need to be dealt with extra, I don’t know, um, firmly. Are you one of those very naughty girls, Miss Sendak?”

3fingersChloe shook her head, eyes wide. “Oh no, Mr Mortimer, sir.” I stood close, looking down into Chloe’s eyes, and reached under the skirt to touch her cunt. Chloe gasped, not entirely theatrically. I stroked gently, and she fell against me. My fingers entered her easily; of course she was one of those very naughty girls. She nestled her head into my armpit and sighed while I pleasured her.

Mr Mortimer said, three fingers deep in lusty girl, “I think, under the circumstances, Miss Sendak, that from now on I’ll call you Chloe.”

Chloe giggled. I hadn’t heard that sound before. “I’d like that, sir.” 

Chloe’s game 7

Chloe bit her lip. “Yes, sir.” Chloe didn’t bite her lip when she was nervous. This was acting. I wondered how I could be sure that she was enjoying this. Was she wet under that little skirt?

It occurred to me, at last, that she could never have worn her skirt like that to her expensive school. It was far too short. She must have worked – when? – to take the hem up to its current, absurdly sexy, height. Still, however much she’d prepared for this, she might have changed her mind now that it was happening. I realised that I didn’t have to wonder about this. Mr Mortimer had the power to find out.

hand outHe said, “Take down your panties.”

“Sir? I thought you were going to strap my hands.”

“I’ll strap your hands and your legs if you don’t do as you’re told, girl.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Chloe reached under her skirt and tugged the panties halfway down her thighs, taking care not to lift the hem more than necessary for the purpose.

She put her hands back out.

Chloe’s game 6

handsShe put her hands out, palms up. They shook. I was shaky too. It occurred to me that Mr Mortimer hadn’t given a direct order. I’d softened it to a suggestion, so that if Chloe complied it was through choice, not obedience. Avoiding giving orders was part of the sexual politics I’d worked out, to be a dom and a pro-feminist guy.

But this was only a game; none of it was real. So they wouldn’t be real orders. And Chloe had initiated the game anyway. I decided to think about it later and get out of Mr Mortimer’s way.

He said, “Good girl. See, you can be a good girl.” Chloe smiled. I remembered that six weeks ago she’d asked me if she was my good girl. It had been a joke and not a joke. 

Mr Mortimer said, “I’m going to give you the strap, Miss Sendak. Keep your hands out straight.” Now it was an order, but Chloe already had her hands out. She couldn’t enact her obedience. I remembered something else from the texts.

Mr Mortimer tried again. “And thank me for your lesson, Miss Sendak, each time I strap you. Say, ‘One, thank you, sir, Two, thank you, sir’. And so on. Got that?”

Chloe’s game 5

“All right, Miss Sendak, you’ve asked for a very severe punishment, and now you’re going to get it.”

Mr Mortimer considered possibilities. The uniform would come off soon, but I liked its mixture of innocence and depravity, and I knew that Chloe had gone to a lot of trouble to set this up. It could stay on for now. I let the strap thwack onto my palm again, looking into her eyes. “What happens to naughty, cheeky girls?”

"It's sweets, isn't it, sir?"

“It’s sweets, isn’t it, sir?” (Then we can do a Curly-Wurly joke.)

“They get given sweets and taken to the movies, sir?” Sir. I’d never been called sir before. It sounded sweet from her mouth, and satisfying. Yes. I would be sir.

“You will be taken, girl. But not to the movies. And not yet.” That was good for impromptu, I thought. I was starting to get the hang of being Mr Mortimer. “I want you to hold out your hands, Miss Sendak. If you could put both your hands together, palms upward?”

See? I was terrible at giving orders. But I swung the strap onto Chloe’s bed. I knew how to do that. It really was loud, and it made an impressive dent in her bedclothes where it had landed.