Читать книгу Eroticizing Discipline: Dominance, Submission and Exquisite Pleasure - H. Hargrove - Страница 6

Disciplining Sheila

This is written with Sheila’s consent. She will, on occasion, contribute her own words.

For the past two years I have been with an extraordinarily beautiful and wonderful lady. From the fourth week of our relationship, erotic discipline has played a major role. During the second month we discovered a possible link that might cause Sheila, a woman who had never been spanked as an adult, to nervously crave the punishment she desperately needs. What I will provide you is a glimpse into our lives, the loving but stern discipline that is such a key to the success of our relationship, and the numerous, intimate, late-night conversations in which Sheila has revealed the details of the possible link - the punishments that controlled and molded her through her childhood and teen years.

I met Sheila through a friend at a bar. Late at night. Long odds for a relationship. Her stunning beauty was mesmerizing - classic, high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted chin, small, neat, aquiline features, blond hair pulled back like the Duchess of Kent. A Heidi Klum look-alike, although shorter. She wore a short, dark business suit that showed off her muscular calves, beautifully tapered legs, and gave a hint of the fullness of her breasts. When she turned to walk to the restroom I saw that her hips and bottom were smaller than I was accustomed to, but her tight, round little ass soon became an object of my worship.

Sheila is extremely bright, but displays the characteristics that are the basis of “blond jokes”. Unorganized, forgetful, messy, tardy, more than a bit spoiled, with a penchant for emotional outbursts - particularly after three, rather than two, glasses of Chardonnay. Of course, for every negative there are three positives.

By the third week we were spending a great deal of time together, and discovered many shared interests and passions. We both loved to dance, play tennis, work out, read, listen to music, cook, travel, and have long, intense conversations about anything and everything – our gazes rarely leaving the other. Both of us are serious romantics. And from the beginning, the sex was playful, imaginative, and terrific. I determined early on that Sheila was perhaps the most sexual person I had ever been around, male or female…but without knowing it.

But her chronic tardiness was a nuisance. After she showed up late once again I remarked in an offhand manner, “I might have to give you a good spanking the next time you’re late.”

It was on my second or third threat that she gave me a look that meant something. I wasn’t sure what.

We were in her living room when I decided to follow through. I don’t remember the exact circumstances, but we were next to each other on the couch, she had misbehaved, and I told her I was going to give her a spanking. Looking at me she said, “No” - but not very convincingly. I told her to lie across my lap and she stared at me. When I pulled her arm toward me she didn’t resist, and let me turn her over. She had on a short skirt, which I pulled up over her waist, and sheer, high cut nylon panties, which I pushed down to her knees. She shivered noticeably. Although in her later thirties, Sheila has the body of a woman years younger.

From that first time, there has always been a wave of fascination and desire that runs through me when I expose the creamy skin of her beautiful, tight little ass, get a glimpse of the tiny, pink, puckered opening only partially hidden between her firm cheeks, and the thatch of hair and pink folds just above the smooth, muscular loveliness of her thighs.

Something told me to spank her fairly soundly that first time.

After a few minutes she started reaching back and trying to cover her behind with her hands, half-heartedly it seemed to me - but she never asked me to stop. I remember telling her, “This is what you will get every time you misbehave. And I sense you are going to misbehave a lot.” When I finished, I talked softly about her need for discipline as I gently caressed her pink, warm bottom. She panted audibly. The sex that followed was phenomenal. Slow, delicious, wild, wanton - with both of us all over the other’s body. An hour, two hours - it’s never fast. It’s always furious.

It was a week or so later when I sent her into the back yard to get a switch, then ordered her into the bathroom to wait for me. After leaving her alone for a good ten minutes, I walked in and told her that what I was about to do could be expected every time she has one of her little “going crazy moments.” A few too many glasses of wine after dinner and a political argument that turned into personal insults was the reason I was now ordering her to bend over and grab her ankles. She only had on running tights, which I pulled down until they were bunched at her feet. The view of her gorgeous, tanned legs and white bottom, arched over so that the hair between her thighs and folds peeked out - made it very hard to concentrate on my primary responsibility of giving Sheila a switching she would remember. Regaining my composure, I managed to use the switch on her bottom until she was squirming, but also panting lightly. She never asked me to stop. After I finished she immediately turned, went to her knees, frantically pulled my zipper down, pulled my dick out, and took it deep into her mouth. She was incredibly skilled, and wouldn’t release me from the warm, wet paradise of her mouth until I exploded.

Later that evening, snuggled up very close to each other in bed, we had the first of what would become a ritual for us - long, intimate, open conversations about Sheila, me, sometimes discipline, and sex. She said in a whisper, “When you pull my panties down to spank me, or make me take them down - it drives me crazy. I’m nervous, but God I’m turned on.” And then later, “It wasn’t the first time, you know. The only time in my life I’ve ever been really good was when I knew my crazy mother would go nuts if she thought I messed up. I got yelled at and punished all the time. Sylvia told me she’d send us to get a switch. I guess I managed to forget some of the details.”

“When did Sylvia tell you that?”

“I asked her. I was curious after you started giving me spankings.”

“Did you tell Sylvia how I discipline you?”

“Sylvia? God no! She’s really straight. Don’t ever tell her. Some people…I mean…it would probably turn me on if they knew. But then I’m finding out that everything turns me on. But not Sylvia.”

“Tell me more about your Mom spanking you.” I slowly pressed my hard dick between the cheeks of her ass, spooning up closer and slipping my hand between her breasts.

“I hated it…what I remember. Then sometimes she would tell me that Dad was going to wear me out when he got home.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah…sometimes.”

“Did it turn you on at all?” I asked.

“I don’t think so, no. I never thought about it like that. I used to dread it, but it was kind of weird. I need to think about that.”

My fingers found the slick lips of her pussy and after a few moments I slowly replaced them by pushing my steel hard dick deep into her…to return the pleasure she had so unselfishly given me earlier.

One of the troublesome issues Sheila and I have is my ex-wife’s family. I was married for twenty years, and had a sixteen-year-old daughter when Sheila and I met. My ex has a large family, most of them live locally, and over the years I had grown very close to some of her siblings and her parents. And, of course, they are still my daughter’s family. I enjoy seeing them on occasion, and there have been numerous events that my daughter has been involved in that my ex and members of her family have attended. Sheila has never understood why I still need to see them. Much of her attitude originates from her lack of a cohesive family, and then there’s her severe insecurity. Funny - how extreme beauty often exacerbates that condition. I always try to be sensitive to her feelings. But at times it becomes too much to take.

I was working in my home office one afternoon when she came in and immediately attacked me for accepting an invitation for us to go to my ex’s to celebrate an award our daughter had won. It was at least the third time this particular gathering had been hotly debated. I listened patiently for a few minutes and explained, again, that it was important to my daughter that I be there. When the anger in her voice rose dramatically, I spoke slowly, but forcefully, “Watch out, you’re about to get in trouble.” She ignored me, and continued to rant and rave.

“All right, Sheila. I’m too busy trying to finish this contract to deal with you now, and we have to meet Terry at 7:30 for dinner. But some time tomorrow I’m going to take my belt off - and I think you know what that means.” By now I was used to it - the shudder and slight shake that runs through her body when I tell her she is going to be disciplined.

“No. I don’t want a spanking.”

There is always this dilemma for me when Sheila truly needs to be disciplined. Looking at her - the innocent, little girl beauty and pleading look, and realizing that she knows she’s going to get a sound spanking - it’s hard for me to focus only on punishing her properly.

“Then don’t ever start on me again about Laura’s family. Because every time you do, I’m going to tan your behind.”

It was 6:30 the next evening when I heard the car door shut in the driveway. Sheila walked in with salads and sushi, kissed me, and stepped into the kitchen. “God, I’m hungry as a horse. I’m going to have a glass of wine. Want a beer?”

“I have some unfinished business with you - before we have a drink.”

Sheila looked up in time to see me unbuckle the leather belt and pull it slowly out of my jeans, then double it.

“Bob, no. I don’t want a spanking,” she said, as the very visible shudder shook her body.

“Get in the bedroom. Right now.” There was a tone to my voice she had learned to obey, and she didn’t say a word as she walked by me. I followed, watching the muscles of her beautiful, tanned legs flex beneath the short hem of the pale blue sundress.

I pulled one of the large decorative pillows into the middle of the bed. “Lay on your stomach, with the pillow under your hips.” She did as she was told. I reached over, pulled her dress up over her waist, then pulled her sheer, blue panties down to her ankles. She still had on her heeled sandals, and when I stepped back the scene was well past alluring. The pillow arched her bottom just enough so that the patch of dark blond hair and the pink, glistening lips of her pussy were perfectly framed between her tanned thighs and creamy buttocks, and the puckered, hairless bud of her anus was clearly visible.

She began to pant. For a moment I wanted to drop the belt and bury my tongue between those perfect cheeks and thighs. But I knew she needed this, and there would be time later.

“You may not be able to sit down for dinner after I finish with you. Are you going to drop this nonsense about my ex-family?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet you’ll know in a minute.” Her first, brief orgasm came as I pulled the tip of the belt lightly up over her thighs, across the thatch of hair, up between the cheeks of her ass, then said, “You’re about to get a spanking you won’t forget for a while.” My arm rose and fell slowly at first, but within a few minutes her bottom was a bright pink. Then she was trying to squirm out of the way, raising and lowering her hips, reaching back to cover her behind with her hands.

“Are you going to stop bringing it up?”

I knew she could never do anything more than say “yes.” It isn’t in Sheila’s nature to ever admit she’s wrong. Even when we both know she is.

Finally she said “Yes”, and it was my cue to use the belt a little harder.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I can never be harsh with Sheila; I care for her too much. But we both agree that when she misbehaves she needs to be soundly spanked, and since this was the first time I used the belt, I wanted to be sure to leave an impression. Many couples play with the real discipline, erotic discipline issue, but with us it really works. Particularly when she throws one of her tantrums. No amount of reasoning or talking can calm her down. She always initially resists being spanked when she’s upset, but at some point during the spanking she calms down, accepts it, making up is automatic, and we have white-hot sex.

Days of anger, distance and silence are avoided. We quickly return to a state of happiness and contentment.

“OK. It’s over now. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.” As I spoke gently to her, I lightly stroked the pink, hot cheeks of her bottom. My tongue then started across the smooth flesh, completely coating one cheek with a warm film, then the other. As it slipped down between the tight, round little buttocks and began to flick at her lovely little anus, my fingers slowly caressed the smooth skin between her thighs, moved higher, then brushed along the lips of her pussy. My tongue was tickling electric pleasure into the bundles of receptive nerves around her anus at the same time I slipped two of my fingers into her pussy. Sheila was moaning loudly. I reached my left hand under her dress, pushed her bra over her breasts, and began to twirl her nipples between my fingers. Cupping one breast in my hand, I massaged it, then returned to her erect nipple. I continued to probe her ass and pussy - slowly, then faster, then slowly again. I changed positions, slid my tongue down between her legs, found her clit, then gently pushed a wet finger up into her ass. Even when I stopped to get my breath, my fingers were moving, circling, probing, caressing. As always happens, when I have both hands and my tongue working in concert, a strong shudder shook her body.

After many minutes of slow, exquisite pleasure, as if on cue, we were both up, tearing each other’s clothes off. Sheila pushed me back on the bed, put one hand on the shaft of my throbbing dick, the other on my balls, then stared as if they were her most prized possessions as she began fondling me. She slipped a finger first into her pussy, then into my ass, and took my dick deep inside her mouth. I lay back, groaned. Ecstasy. I tried to relax and revel in the incredible feel of her strong but gentle sucking motion, her fingers expertly caressing first my balls, then my ass, then my balls again. She would continue until I erupted in her mouth, or needed to be inside her. That time came.

Within seconds she was on her hands and knees and I was pushing deep inside her warm wetness. I drove into her, hard at first, then gently, then hard again, over and over.

God, it was exquisite. Amazing. As always. Finally, after one more shudder and cry from her, I exploded.

Once our breath returned we kissed, long and gently, then dozed in each other arms. The wine, beer and sushi had to wait. Dinner was at 11:00 p.m.

The next night we were in bed, spooned close, when I asked, “Was your bottom sore today?”

“Not really. Well, maybe a little. Makes me remember,” she said with a sly smile.

I could feel my dick thickening, pressing between the cheeks of her ass. “You needed it, you know. I mean the belt.” My voice was soft, smooth, almost a monotone. “And something else. About a week ago you said something bitchy, the same old family thing, when we were at Donna’s. Do you want to guess what will happen if you do that again?”

“Will you spank me? There?”

“Absolutely.”

“In front of her…or them?”

“I might. Or at least take you into the bathroom. They’ll damn sure know.” Her body trembled slightly.

“It made me think,” she said.

“What made you think,” I said.

“When you took your belt off.”

“What did you think about?”

“My Dad.”

“Yes? What about your Dad?”

“He used a belt when he spanked me.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“What do you want to know?”

“How old were you when he gave you your last spanking?”

“I’m not sure. High school. Fifteen, maybe sixteen.”

“Tell me about the last time.”

“I don’t remember too much. I mean about which time was the last.”

“Then how do you know how old you were?”

“There were a couple of times when guys brought me home. After going out. I was at least fifteen.”

“What would happen? Tell me exactly what would happen.”

“Dad was gone a lot. In the military. He wasn’t around too much. A lot of times Mom would tell him if I was bad.”

“Were you really bad?”

“No. I was really good. The only time in my life. Because I was afraid. But Mom was crazy. A wild crazy woman when she drank. An alcoholic. To her, everything I did was bad.”

“So what would she do?”

“Sometimes, after she yelled at me and called me names…she’d tell me Dad was going to wear me out when he got home.”

“And would he?” I slowly slipped my dick into Sheila’s pussy from behind, pushing gently, as I kept questioning her. She pressed her hips back against me, until I was all the way in.

We were so close, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, discussing things so intimate, making very slow, very wonderful love.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

“And were you afraid when you knew he was going to spank you?”

“I hated it. Waiting.”

“What would he do? Tell me everything.”

“He’d make me go to my room. He kept the belt in his drawer. He’d get it or sometimes he’d make me go and get it.”

“Did you have a room of your own.”

“No. I shared it with Sylvia.”

“Was she ever in there when he spanked you?”

“One time...maybe...I think. But not usually. I don’t remember too much.”

“Go on.”

“He’d make me take off my dress, or jeans.”

“All your clothes?”

“No. Just my dress or jeans, and my panties.”

“He’d make you take them off?”

“He’d make me pull them down.”

“Then what?”

“He’d make me bend over the bed. Or lay across it.”

“Bend over? How?”

“With my hands on the bed.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes. He spanked me pretty hard. Not brutal…not really abusive. I mean, a lot of kids got spanked back then. Pretty common.”

“You told me before it didn’t turn you on. Are you sure?”

“No. I definitely never thought it did. But now that I’ve been thinking back - I mean, it turns me on so much when you do it, even though I’m nervous, and in a way don’t want you to do it. I think there may have been something, some feeling I can’t describe or put my finger on. The memories are vague. My childhood wasn’t good. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I’m sure I’ve suppressed a lot of it. But there may have been something other than my fear, the embarrassment, the sting. Maybe there was some strange, imperceptible attraction. It was about the only attention he ever gave me, and I’m sure that’s a key. He didn’t really seem like a father. He was gone so much. He was a very distant, cold man.”

I kept rocking gently inside Sheila’s pussy, slowly, cupping her breasts in my hand, caressing her nipples, as we continued to talk. It was silky smooth, almost dreamlike, an incredible turn-on - listening, sharing, fantasizing, while I was connected to her, filling her, seemingly a part of her.

“Can you try to remember that last time…that he spanked you.”

“It’s hard to remember which time. I know I came home late a couple of times after a date and got in trouble. There was another time that I wasn’t late, but my Mom came out and threw one of her tantrums. Called me a slut. Screamed and yelled. I was just sitting in the car with a guy in the driveway. Talking. Doing nothing wrong.”

“Did she punish you after you came in the house? Did she spank you?”

“I just don’t remember. Sometimes she did. I was so upset. But I do remember coming in late one night and my Dad was home. I came in the door and he was standing there and I knew what was going to happen.”

“What did happen?”

“His eyes. They were so dark. And hard. He glared at me. And he already had the belt in his hand.”

“Go on.”

“I’ll tell you what I can remember. He told me to go upstairs and then followed me up. He lectured me for a minute or so. He never said much. Then he made me take off my jeans. I had to lie across the bed on my stomach and then he pulled my panties down. He spanked me for a long time. I’m not sure if it was that time…but one time I just lay there for a long time after he finished and left my room.”

My dick was rock hard. As I increased the intensity of the rocking motion…and the thrusts…Sheila began to moan. I felt her shudder. Usually I could last as long as I wanted to…and I usually wanted to drag out the pleasure. But that night…I exploded quickly. God she turned me on.

I don’t know what to say. You said it all. You write really well. OK, the sex is amazing. Wonderful. You do so many things to me that no one else has done. I love it. And when you make me do things. That’s what I love the most. Promise you’ll always make me do things. Make me do everything.

I know you want me to talk about the spankings. When you tell me you’re going to spank me it drives me crazy. And when you pull my panties down before you do it, it makes me even crazier, if that’s possible. God it turns me on. I don’t know if it’s linked in some way to the spankings I got at home …those times when I was a teenager. Maybe. But I just don’t know.

Sheila