Chapter Twelve #2
I open my eyes to see Ewan smiling, his expression one of intense pride.
And, just possibly, a hint of relief. My stomach twists, my satisfaction at having not disappointed him beyond anything I’ve experienced before.
Perhaps it’s the presence of a third person, the sense that I’m somehow on display.
I want Ewan to be proud of me. I want to be proud of me, and I am.
Ewan steps aside to allow me an unimpeded view of my reflection in the mirrored wall opposite.
My almost nude body is pale in contract to David’s dark clothing behind me.
I am silhouetted against him, still relying on his support to keep me upright.
My hips are narrow but pleasantly curved, my clamped breasts fuller than they normally appear, though maybe I’m imagining that.
My nipples are large, elongated, adorned by the delicate-looking tweezers.
They look pretty but in this case appearances can be deceptive. They hurt like hell.
“Now the weights I think. Hold still.”
Ewan fastens a bullet weight to each clamp, just above the clip. The effect is to put a constant pressure on my already sore tips, a pressure that intensifies every time I move as the weights swing from my breasts.
“Go over to the bed and take hold of one of the posts. Lean forward and stick your arse out.”
Ewan’s instructions are succinct and clear. I make my unsteady way across the few feet of carpet to take hold of the nearest post, at the foot of the bed. I lean on it, trapping the weights between the post and my body to stop them swinging. I arch my back slightly.
“Charity, you know better than that. This is a spanking, not a bloody waltz. Bend right over, lift your bum up. I want to see those weights swinging like two pendulums. Spread your legs too. We want to see that sweet tush of yours. Show us your pussy, girl. Show us what a wet little slut you are.”
“I am wet, sir. I swear I am.”
“Show me. Now.”
With a groan I shift into the position he’s described.
I widen my stance, placing my feet maybe a yard from the post and leaning forward to hold on.
I bend at the waist, arching my back to lift my bare bottom up for them to spank.
My thighs are spread as wide as I’m able, the air cool against my wet cunt.
The weights do indeed dangle unrestrained from my distended nipples.
The pain is indescribable, constant now rather than intermittent.
In this position I can do nothing to protect my nipples, and once Ewan and David start to spank me I know it will be much worse.
Even so, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.
I look over my shoulder as David again opens the blanket chest. This time he selects two spanking paddles. He hands one to Ewan.
“What do you think? Not too heavy? You know how she likes this.”
Ewan tests the flexible silicone in his hands, then tries a couple of experimental slaps against his thigh.
“She prefers a good, hard spanking. I’ve used heavier on her.
But these will do, I think.” He grins at David.
“After all, I seem to remember someone once telling me it’s really all in the wrist action. ”
“Good. Glad you remembered that. Shows my efforts weren’t wasted on you.” He turns to me. “We really shouldn’t keep your little sub waiting.”
“Indeed.” Ewan moves to stand behind me. I’m straining my neck to keep him in view. I know David has taken up a similar position on the other side, though I can’t see him. “This isn’t a punishment, Charity. You only need to say when you’ve had enough and we’ll stop. So, are you ready?”
“Yes, sir. Except, I wonder…”
He waits, patient. I fall silent, unsure if I should continue.
“You wonder what, Charity?”
“I want to come, sir. Now. Could you… one of you…?”
“You want one of us to finger-fuck you before your spanking? Is that it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t see any problem with that. David? Would you?”
I cry out in blessed relief as two thick fingers sink into my waiting pussy. I writhe my hips in appreciation, oblivious now to the weights pulling at my tits. I tighten my inner muscles around the fingers rubbing my G-spot.
“I want her to come fast and hard. And Charity, look at me while it’s happening. Eyes on me, girl.”
“Sir, I…”
“Look at me.” The order is curt, the tone of authority unmistakeable.
Disobedience is unthinkable. I open my eyes and lift my chin.
Ewan is leaning against the other bedpost, the paddle still dangling from his fingers.
His expression is stern. “Those are David’s fingers in your cunt, but I’m the one controlling what happens to you, and how it happens. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir. You’re in control.” I shiver as David’s fingers work their unerring magic inside me. My orgasm is building, unstoppable.
“Right. I’m in control, and I’ll take care of you. You know that too, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” My pussy spasms around the skilled fingers, twisting and scissoring against my inner walls.
“Come now, girl. Come for me.”
“Yes, I… Aagh.” I lurch forward, and narrowly avoid losing my grip on the polished wood of the bed post as David pushes me past the point of no return.
My body convulses, my hips bucking as the waves of pleasure sweep away all other considerations.
Except for Ewan. Not once, not for one moment, through the perfect storm of pure sensation pulsing through me, not once do I break eye contact.
He has me. Absolutely.
“Greedy sub. You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous this evening. David has clearly had a civilising effect on me. Would you like to thank us for allowing you to come before you’ve earned so much as a tingle?”
“Thank you, sir. Both of you. Sirs.”
“You’re welcome.” This from David, who I note has picked up his paddle and now seems ready to resume where they left off. Ewan also moves back into position behind me.
“So wet. Positively dripping. Such a hot, tight cunt. You’ll love being inside her. I always do.” Ewan’s voice is casual, his matter-of-fact style at odds with the intimacy of his observation.
“I’m thinking so too. Nice arse though. Are you sure you don’t want to swap?
” David warms to the theme. They both seem content to take a few moments to compare notes on the relative merits of the differing parts of my anatomy.
Somehow—I have no idea where I drag the resolve up from—I manage to remain still for their perusal.
My stomach lurches in apprehension. What if Ewan agrees to the switch? Could I do that? It’s only ever been Ewan—there.
“Quite sure. Her arse is mine. Only mine.” Ewan’s tone leaves no room for negotiation.
Thank God!
“Fair enough. I don’t blame you. So, are we ready?” David seems eager to make progress. I find I share his sentiment.
“Yeah.” Ewan pats my bottom. “Charity, I’ll just warm you up first, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.” I draw in a deep breath as he goes to work on my upturned bottom, showering hard, rapid slaps over every inch of my buttocks and thighs.
The first time he did this, I hated it. Now, it’s foreplay, arousing and sensual but just the prelude for what’s to come.
I rock from side to side as the tension starts to drain from my body, my clit throbbing in an insistent, pulsing demand for release, despite my recent orgasm.
I don’t dare ask them to let me come again. Not yet.
I’m sinking into the familiar submissive haze of contentment when Ewan slows his spanks down.
“Wake up, Charity. I’m starting to think you may not be paying proper attention.” He emphasises his point with a hard slap across my pussy.
“Aagh! Sir, I wasn’t expecting that.” The complaint dies on my lips as Ewan parts my smarting buttocks and inserts a cold butt plug into my arse.
It’s well-oiled and slips in fairly readily, despite any lack of direct preparation.
He pulls it back out, almost to the tip, then shoves it back in hard.
It feels glorious. Decadent. Quite wicked and deliciously naughty as both doms have an unimpeded view of my arse accepting this intrusion, and my obvious relish for it. Ewan slides the plug back into place until my muscle tightens around the narrow rim to hold it inside me.
“That’ll do for now. Try to relax your muscles and it won’t feel too uncomfortable. Not easy, when you’re being spanked, but I’m sure you’ll manage.” Ewan pauses, then, “David? After you…”
I jerk forward as the first stroke of David’s paddle lands across my right buttock.
I barely have time to register it before the second stroke connects with my left cheek, just an instant later.
Then the third, then the fourth. Both doms are working in perfect synchronisation to build and maintain a steady, fast tempo.
My bottom is ablaze with the searing heat of it, radiating across the already sensitive flesh.
By the eighth stroke I start to whimper.
I’m trying not to clench down on the butt plug but failing utterly.
They direct their attention to the backs of my thighs, my sit spots. I know I won’t be sitting in any sort of comfort for several days. My fingers latch onto the bedpost, my grip deathlike. This lump of wood is all that prevents me from crumpling to the floor in a heap.
By the time I reach a count of twenty I know I’ll be calling a halt soon.
I’ve accepted more than this in the past, but it’s never been so intense.
The succession of spanks has never been so rapid, so unrelenting.
I can hardly differentiate between the distinct blows raining down on both cheeks of my arse almost simultaneously.
All I know is it hurts, and it’s wonderful.
And completely terrifying. Who would ever have imagined I could do this? That I could actually want to do this?