Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 34

I’d decided what we were going to do next. And how we were going to do it.

“Good girl. I want you to bend over now, Raylene. And put your head on that step.” I pointed.


nude on stairs“That step. The fifth one up. You bend at the waist, and you lean forward. And you rest your head on that step.”

Raylene glanced, as if furtively, at the razor strop in my hand. It was obvious what this posture would lead to. “Oh, I see. Jaime, I dunno about this. You’re really going to ..?”

By then I’d stopped worrying when Raylene made one of those little protests. They weren’t exactly insincere, but they were hesitations rather than refusals. They were part of her process for getting used to challenging ideas. So I said, “Of course I am.”

“Yeah, oh my god all right.”

“Raylene . . .”

“I mean, yeah oh my god all right: sir.”

“Yes, love, that’s exactly what you meant. So, do you think you’ll get another stroke for that?”

“Yes sir!”

“You’re right.” I smacked her bottom with the strop, more affectionately than hard. “Now. Because I told you to. Bend over.”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 33

Raylene and I both wanted to get to her bed, or maybe just her bedroom carpet, and fuck like snakes. But Raylene had an idea that she’d like to be brutalised before being fucked, and I’d certainly like to be that brute. So though her bedroom door was in sight, we’d be staying on the stairs, for a while.

I took the bundle of Raylene’s clothes, and boosted it like a basketball in the direction of her bedroom door. The bundle hit the door a little below the handle, pushing it slightly open, and dropped to the floor, just inside.

tawse titsRaylene was worried about her moment of resistance just before I’d taken her bundle of clothes away. She was new to this sort of thing, but she knew that she’d just been defiant, and that was probably going to have consequences. Her voice was small. “Sir? Am I in -? Are you going to -? Um?” 

Actually I hadn’t minded her defiance. Defiance can give a dom a reason to step up the pressure on the submissive, and increase the sexual tension. While serious defiance is valuable feedback: it means that there’s something wrong that needs attention.

In this specific case I thought it was perfectly understandable. Raylene’s bundle of clothes had become a sort of security blanket for her. While so many strange things were happening, of course she’d resist having it taken away.

But she’d have been disappointed if I’d been reasonable. There was a script, and I was prepared to stick with it. I said, “Yes, you’re in a little bit of trouble. Not too much. But you don’t resist me. Ever. You don’t defy me. You need to learn that. So, yes, of course I’m going to punish you.”

Raylene nodded: in this new world, these things would have to be. Then she straightened up, put her hands on her buttocks, above that fresh stripe, and stretched. The effect on her breasts was spectacular.

tawsedIt seemed that Raylene was reached, a few seconds later, by another wave of heat from that searing razor strop stroke across her arse. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, savouring the pain. Then she sighed. “Oh fuck, Jaime, that really huuurts.”

 She said this languorously, not displeased with the sensation. And a second later, remembering, “Sir.”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 32

I also wondered if I’d been unreasonable. I’d felt that it was right to punish Raylene, and I’d acted on it. But being called sir wasn’t usually something I insisted on. I supposed it was that I’d given that order, and then warned her. She’d given me authority, and so she had to take it seriously.

shoulderI said, “That’s better, girl.” I leaned forward, over her shoulder so she could see my face. “And look, you won’t always have to call me sir. Not with everything you ever say. But for now it’s good practice, and I’ll give you double if you miss again.”

“Two … of those? Um sir.” 

“Yes. And if I have to remind you again after that… Well, you do the math.”

I watched her thinking, and her face fall a little, when she imagined getting four strokes like the stinger she’d just had. “I see. Sir. Oh god.”

“When I tell you to do something, I want you to do as you’re told. I think you’ll remember now. Don’t you?”

“Oh god, yes sir.”

I kissed her, and we paid attention to nothing but the kiss for a minute or so. When we separated I had my hand, the one holding the strop, resting on her ass, and she was smiling.

I said, “This is all new, love, and I know you’re trying to be good. I’m going to help you learn to do as you’re told. Sometimes that’ll hurt. But you’ll learn.”

Raylene nodded. I suspected that this was comedy, and that we both thought so. But we were prepared to be solemn about it. “I understand that, sir. I am trying, sir.”

So I’d convinced her, at least, that I was being reasonable. Perhaps I was. “You’re a good girl, love, and I do know it. Now give me your clothes.”

bundleRaylene was still holding her jeans, panties and jersey, all she had been wearing, in a tight bundle against her breasts. It had become her security.

She looked at my face, but I wasn’t smiling at her. The tension felt good, and I didn’t want to dissipate it.

I took the ball of clothes in my hands, but Raylene resisted, holding them back. Then she realised what she was doing. She took her hands away as if the bundle had turned into a hot brick.

Now I did smile at her. It may not have been reassuring.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 31

Raylene’s eyes were wide open, but I doubt she was looking at anything in particular. But I was still watching the band left by the razor strop declaring itself across the lower slopes of Raylene’s bottom, a clearly defined stripe, darkly pink, about two inches wide. In a few more seconds the pink had brightened to fiery red, and the skin was raising itself a little where the edges of the strop had impacted.

painfaceThe pain, like the colour, was still becoming deeper and brighter. Raylene had frozen for those seconds, shocked to find herself punished, and then by the sheer ruthless pain left in the razor strop’s wake. At last she gasped for breath, then another, then another.

Then she found her voice. “Rii! Ooooah! Oh fuck! Jesus fuck!”

Which, I suppose, is the sort of thing you might as well say, under those circumstances.

I put the hand that held the razor strop on Raylene’s hip, to let her feel comfort and authority. I brushed the fingers of my other hand gently down her bottom, to explore that broad welt. I could have found it with my eyes closed.

Raylene’s skin was cool above the mark, then suddenly hot at the thin, raised horizontal line along the top of that vivid stripe. Below that were two inches of heated flesh. Raylene held her breath again, concentrating on the feel of my fingers, and fearful that I might add further punishment. Her skin glowed heat against my fingertips. At the stripe’s lower edge there was another thin raised line.

I explored lower, stroking the soft, intimately curved flesh below the stripe, slipping my fingers between her buttocks to press lightly against her anus, and then the delicate skin beyond. Raylene shivered at that touch.

She said nothing. I smacked the undercurve of her bottom lightly, then again. There she was soft, and cool, and still unwhipped. She wouldn’t stay unwhipped for much longer, I thought. I was going to make her glow from the crown of her buttocks to the top two or three inches of her thighs. And then I’d enjoy that heat while I fucked her from behind.

Raylene froze again when I patted her, though I’d meant the pats fondly and reassuringly. Perhaps reassurance wasn’t what she needed. She had urgencies to deal with: her pain and the knowledge that since she’d just been punished so firmly, she must therefore have done wrong.

She said, “Oh sir, I’m sorry, sir, I knew I’m meant to call you sir, I’m so sorry, sir.”

I wondered how many times you could fit sir into a sentence.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 30

Raylene nodded, indicating the further door with her head. “My room’s at the end of the corridor. You’ll have to excuse the mess a bit. I wasn’t expecting … Oh well.”

And that – her failure to say “Sir” after so many reminders – is how these things get decided. Just a few moments earlier I’d thought that I couldn’t wait and I was going to fuck her on the stairs, here and now. The razor strop experience could come later. But we’d got to the stage that we both understood that Raylene was supposed to do as she was told, and I felt genuine indignation when she didn’t. So I didn’t even think or hesitate before I lifted the razor strop and swung it.

strapped nakedThe leather lashed across her lower buttocks, the end wrapping round and biting into her right hip. The sound of that impact filled the corridor. It seemed to fill the house. Silence echoed, afterwards. I’d struck her much harder than I would have, if I’d thought for even a second.

But I wasn’t shocked by that; the force that had made me punish her still drove me. “Raylene, you’ve been told. What do you call me?” I used the command voice. That also seemed quite loud. 

Raylene’s eyes were wide, as this sudden event and the pain it had brought continued to sink in. The stripe was already rising and prettily red. She clutched her bundle of clothes tight against her breasts. Her mouth opened, silently. She hadn’t cried out.

I watched her, fascinated. Her pain was still building.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 29

Raylene paused for a second, then opened her mouth obediently, releasing the razor strop into my hand. There was a wet semicircle bounded by teeth marks. Raylene had taken great care not to let the strop fall.

The thought made me smile, though she couldn’t see me. She knew I’d punish her if she disobeyed, so she tried hard to do as she was told. So long as the orders I gave her were possible, and hot. We had each other where we wanted.  

Always an option.

Always an option.

I hadn’t made up my mind what I wanted to do next. Whipping her with that strop would certainly be a pleasure. I’d hurt her nipples back in the kitchen, and that had made me hard. That lust was still driving me. I imagined her gasps and cries when I used the strop, her bottom jerking under the lashes in that beautiful dance of pain and excitement, and the progressive reddening of her buttocks and thighs.

And I imagined how soft and giving she’d be when I’d finished, and how much she’d want to feel me hard and inside her.

Those were heady ideas, and images. But I also wanted to fuck her immediately, here on these steps, my cock in her right now, no delay.

While I considered these two options I held the leather to Raylene’s lips for her to kiss, which she did without instruction.

And, I noticed after keeping the leather to her lips to show that more than a casual salute was required, she kissed it with her eyes closed, and something like passion. She worked earnestly at the leather as though pleasuring a lover with her lips and tongue. She was in her own world.

So I decided I’d take her to her bedroom and – though I’d swing the strop across her hips and sides while I fucked her – we’d fuck in relative comfort. She’d be expecting to get to get a good hard taste of the strop first, but we could get round to that later. First and urgently, I wanted my cock in her.

I took the strap away from her mouth again, and swung it lightly across her hip. When Raylene had focussed her attention on me, I said, “Which door? Which one’s your bedroom?”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 28

We stood, a naked woman and a clothed man standing close behind her, both facing the top of the stairs. Raylene held an armful of her clothes to her belly, and she was biting lightly on the razor strop in her mouth. She’d arched her back to press her buttocks and cunt back onto my cock. She’d rubbed a wet patch onto that lump in my jeans.

It was time to warm her arse properly. I was sure, from the way she’d responded to the smack of my hand across her ass and thighs, that I knew how she’d respond to the leathering. She’d be curious about her own sensations when I started, then the heat would build up, which she’d experience as pleasure. I’d make the last few strokes harder, and I expected that they’d make her desperate, needing to be filled and fucked.

I wanted her submission from her as urgently as I was sure she needed to give it. I expected the half querulous, half joyous grunt she’d make when my cock entered her would be the same as the sound she made when she felt the first hard stroke with the strop.

For now Raylene seemed completely focussed on rubbing her cunt on my cock, through my jeans. And maybe she was thinking about what I intended to do with the razor strop she held in her mouth.

I put my hands on her hips and sighed with the pleasure of this moment, and the possibilities ahead of us. She felt my breath on her neck and shoulders. Suddenly she had goose bumps. I kissed them.

strap mouthRaylene made another nasal noise, whose exact meaning was unclear. It seemed she wanted something. I decided it was time to let her speak again. Or that it was time to let her feel the razor strop. Or, of course, both. I reached up and stroked Raylene’s cheek, touching a finger to the corner of her mouth, then gripped the handle of the strop.

Raylene froze. She knew what that meant, and no matter how much she might want to feel that leather landing across her skin, and no matter how excited the anticipation was making her, it was still alarming to know the moment had come. 

“Mouth open, Raylene.”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 27

Raylene, for perfectly good reasons, which you’ll have to read earlier instalments to discover, was climbing the stairs, naked, in front of me.

She could still feel the impact of my hand landing on her bottom, several times, leaving her skin buzzing warmly, and nicely hand-printed. And she could surely feel my eyes, also on her bottom, watching her walk up the stairs.

naked on stepsI guessed she was hoping that she looked good, and that she was reasonably confident that she did, since she’d taken care to wiggle nicely with every step. Raylene was a cheerful exhibitionist, and I was an appreciative audience. She was biting on an ancient razor strop, and I also guessed that she was wondering what that would feel like across her ass, and how long it would take for her to find out.

I’d told her to stop when she reached the landing halfway up the stairs. She waited for me, still clutching her bundle of clothes. I stood behind her, and reached down to smack her left inner thigh, a signal for her to part her legs. She moved her feet obediently apart. Her position was fine, but I smacked the same spot on her thigh again, purely for the pleasure of it.

But I didn’t want her to think I was displeased with her. “Good girl.”

Raylene made the sort of response a woman might make, if she had a folded strip of old leather in her mouth, and she has been promised that she would be whipped, hard, if she let it go. She believed that promise, which was wise because I would certainly have kept it. So she would not risk opening her mouth.

She made a sort of two-note humming noise of assent, and moved her feet even wider apart. I put my feet between hers and reached round her belly to pull her in close to me.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submission 26

Raylene stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and glanced back to make sure I was following. Of course I was. I closed the gap between us, to stand behind her and put my hands on her shoulders, reaching down under the bundle of clothes she carried to hold her breasts. She sighed, voluptuously.

I took each nipple between my thumb and forefinger and rolled the hard rubber flesh gently. She sighed a little louder. Raylene was happy.

She turned her face so I could kiss her, which wasn’t so easy with the razor strop in her mouth. So I kissed her ear, then her cheek, and pinched her captive nipples, not gently this time. Then, in clear stages, I applied even less gentle pressure, and then cruel pressure. Raylene’s eyes opened wide, and she made snorting noises, perhaps of protest, but she kept her mouth firmly closed on the razor strop.

I held her nipples tight, and said, “that’s good, you’re doing fine.” Then I released her. Raylene grunted, not ladylike, as that pressure eased and blood came back. I stroked her nipples then, and the surrounding flesh, lightly to help soothe the pain, and for my pleasure.

Raylene relaxed and pressed back against me. She found the hardness of my cock, trapped tightly in jeans. She pressed back so her bottom pushed hard against that hardness, and I stopped breathing. And stopped moving. Raylene rose on tiptoes and leaned forward and arched her back so her cunt pressed directly against that focal point.

cunt finger 1“Ay yah,” I said, intelligently. Raylene slowly rutted and rotated against me, moist cunt pressed against clothed constricted cock. Until I reached down to slip the fingers of my right hand into her, so that – though this was still very pleasant – we soon lost our coordination. The corridor smelled of sex. Eventually I smacked the back Raylene’s thigh, left-handed.

“Come on, love, we need to be in your bedroom.”

Raylene made a nasal agreement noise, which seemed heartfelt. I made her climb ahead of me again, for aesthetic reasons. But when she reached the landing, at the halfway point, I told her to wait.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 25

Let’s get back to the Raylene story. The story so far is that a while back I interviewed Raylene, the younger half-sister of a woman I knew, for a story I was writing on gang violence. Raylene had spent a year with a neo-Nazi gang. She’d been in a bad state when she joined. Her main aim had been to hurt her mother, which she did.

But when her brain and conscience came back on line she’ got out. She was back staying with her mother until she got a job and a new place to live and generally sorted herself out.

We talked at the kitchen table, but although it started as a magazine interview we soon found ourselves talking about personal stuff that I couldn’t use in the story. I realised that I liked her, because even though some of the things she told me about were horrible, she knew she’d fucked up. She was honest about what she’d done and why, and she was brave, smart and funny. 

And then, over a cup of tea we moved from liking each other to wanting to fuck.

And while we were starting to get sexual, I discovered that Raylene rather liked being told what to do. And then, because I pushed a little, that she rather liked being smacked if she didn’t obey quickly enough. And Raylene made her own, reciprocal discoveries about me. So we knew not only that we were about to fuck, but the kind of sex that we were going to have.

That process of recognising each other, and deciding to proceed, took quite a while, it seemed. Although in another sense it all happened very quickly.

stairs againI’d left off the story at the point where Raylene was glowing rather beautifully from having had her breasts smacked with a ruler, and her bottom smacked and her pussy stroked with my hand. It was time for her to lead the way to her bedroom. She held her clothes in a bundle, and was biting on an old razor strop that her mother had bought (as an antique, not for sexual purposes). I smacked her bottom, to set her walking.

I collected my laptop from the table. It was supposed to record a story on gangs, and had instead recorded something much more interesting. It shouldn’t be left lying around. And I followed Raylene, watching her.

She was a strong girl, in a feminine way. Her bottom would normally glow palely in contrast to tanned skin, but at this moment she was pinkly splotched from my hand.

I watched the crease and uncrease of buttock and thigh, left, then right, as she walked. I could watch that all day.