Chapter 32
The speaker that has been playing light jazz music in the background switches to something classical again. I look up and wonder if this is the signal that David is coming. I think it must have been over an hour since I ate, my stomach no longer feels so full and uncomfortable.
A light knock sounds at the door before a polished man wearing light grey tailored trousers, and a matching waistcoat over a crisp white shirt enters the room.
He has salt and pepper hair, a stern looking face and a narrow chin.
His presence feels serious and strict—nothing like the shy and sweet Carl, bubbly Cook, or even the cheerful Dr Jack.
I put my book down next to me on the bed and swing my legs over to get down but in a few swift steps, David is standing in front of me.
“No need to get down yet, we need to set up in here.” Reaching out a hand, he offers, “I’m David, lovely to meet you today Roxy,” speaking in a well-mannered clipped tone.
“Pleasure to meet you too, David. It’s so nice to put a face to the name,” I reply in what I hope is my usual voice. I want to ask what he needs to set up, but Tom saves me by entering with a wooden cross structure which he places in front of the bed.
“Excuse me for a moment,” David says and with a few long strides he’s opening the door and leaving with Tom before a moment later they return carrying what looks like a miniature padded picnic bench.
The bench just barely squeezes in through the door and I almost laugh out loud.
When they set it down on all four legs, I was not far off in my description.
The piece of furniture, equipment I guess it is, really is like a small picnic bench but the top part is padded red leather and the seat parts are also padded leather.
I’ve never seen one like it nor the wooden cross that has leather cuffs hanging down from the top.
“Thank you, Tom,” I hear David say once they’ve settled the bench piece to my right.
Tom nods and takes his seat in the leather armchair.
He’s wearing light grey trackpants and a white fitted t-shirt today.
If he wasn’t so gruff and intimidating, I would like to walk over and climb on his muscular lap and see what he tastes like.
But fear keeps me in check. Also, Dr Jack’s rule of ‘don’t talk to Tom’ comes back to me.
David leaves the room once more and returns with a small black suitcase on wheels.
“Roxy, I think we have everything we need,” he says to me as he approaches the bed again, this time he perches on the side to face where I’m sitting. “Have you ever had someone tie you up and use paddles and crops on you?” he asks so directly I squirm.
“No David, this would be my first. Is that ok?” I enquire, unsure if having more experience would please him more.
“On the contrary, that is perfect,” he smiles brighter than he has so far. “I like to play with untamed bodies and minds. And so far, you are exceptional in both from what I’ve viewed so far.”
“T-Thank you,” I stammer, unsure how I should follow that compliment up.
“Do you remember your safe word?” he asks.
“Yes, Neptune.”
“Excellent. And you know you can use it at any time, and I will stop immediately. You have the choice of stopping just the scene or stopping the scene and your entire stay here. No one here is willing to force you into anything you are not comfortable doing.”
“Yes, I understand thank you. Dr Jack explained everything to me when I arrived. I’m unsure what you are about to do to me, but I’m intrigued also. I’m not afraid.”
“And nor should you be. What I specialise in is a certain type of pain but also pleasure. My pleasure is in your pain, and I reward your pain with pleasure. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, I think so,” I smile into his dark blue eyes and notice his clean-shaven face, his greying eyebrows and a small scar under his left eye. His face looks stern along with his demeanour. He’s sitting straight and rigid next to me despite just perching what should look causally next to me.
“I am going to use a number of instruments on you today. Please rest assured, I have many years of experience using them and can read reactions to gauge limits. I expect you will react in ways I’m familiar with but as always, use your safe word if you feel the need. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I think I’m ready sir,” I reply, almost like I’m speaking to a schoolteacher. His smile reaches his eyes, and they almost look like they glimmer.
“Indeed, you can call me Sir for our scene here today. Hearing it from your lips pleases me immensely. Let’s get you in position then.” He reaches for my hand to help me off the bed and leads me over to the bench.
“Yes Sir,” I say, trying to be everything that pleases him.
“Kneel on here please, one leg on either side and straddle your body over the top, I would like to start with your beautiful behind.”
I do as David instructs, placing my knees on the padded benches on either side, then lean my body over the padded tabletop onto my forearms in a bracing position.
I feel stable and supported with plenty of space for my knees on the wide benches, but also exposed, my arse spread open slightly and my breasts hanging freely.
“Look at that pretty arse Tom, doesn’t it just scream to be reddened like our specially made bench here?”
I turn my head towards Tom who slowly nods his agreement.
Him watching me in this position should feel unnerving, but instead his dark brooding eyes set me alight before David has done anything to me.
I wonder for a minute whether I’m into people watching me.
I must be, or is it just Tom? Though I admit the idea of the other men watching from behind the glass only adds to the building heat.
I feel David’s warm hand rub over my butt cheeks from the tops of my thighs to the small of my back and then down again.
After a couple of strokes, his hand edges towards my inner cheeks and rubs from the small of my back, down between my cheeks and his fingers graze my pussy lips.
I suck in a breath. Is he going to touch me properly there?
His hand stops and he runs one long finger through my folds before pulling it away.
“I think you’re already enjoying being open and on display for me, Roxy.”
“Yes Sir,” I admit honestly.
“Open your legs wider on the bench please. Wider. I want to see your pussy wide open for me. Good girl, like that,” continues David as I carefully slide my legs to the edge of each bench. “I want to feel your flesh under my palms first.”
Standing behind me, David lifts his right hand and slaps my left arse cheek which feels like a warm up strike.
I brace my full body for the blow, every muscle locked in tight and ready but breathe out as I can easily tolerate the pressure of the slaps he begins to rain down on me.
Gradually they begin to build up, I hardly notice the difference in pressure with his clever, well positioned strikes until David lifts his right hand and slaps my left arse cheek with such force, I almost front roll off the spanking bench.
The pain sears through me, feeling like I’ve just been branded with a hot iron, not one man’s palm.
He moves to the side and slaps me just as hard on my right arse cheek.
This time I’m more prepared for the impact and try to stay where I am, anchoring myself heavier on my knees and forearms. I can feel his handprint ablaze on my cheek.
His hand must be sore too, the noise alone was loud enough.
David runs his knuckles over where he’s just slapped me, “Pinking up perfectly Roxy, you should see it. Tom, look how lovely her skin blooms,” says David who sounds pleased.
“A couple more should do the trick,” David raises his hand and lets it fly, the hand hitting with such ferocity, I can’t hold myself in place.
I can’t hold still, jerking forward as I squeal, “Ouch,” unable to keep it in.
This seems to spur him on, he hits me hard, on both my cheeks two more times.
The burning is evoking a fight or flight reaction in me and between trying not to scream, I’m trying to fight my body to stay exactly where David told me to stay.
My body is smarting, but the slapping has stopped.
I raise my head from where it’s hanging low over my forearms and look around to see what David is doing now.
David is bent down behind me—my backside is lower than his eye level.
He places both hands on my cheeks and rubs them up and down my burning skin.
His hands feel nice, they’re gentle. He’s very close to my centre, I suddenly feel very exposed and self-conscious.
I dare not move though; his gentle caresses seem to indicate his sincere enjoyment of the moment.
Standing, I hear him move to his open suitcase and pick something up. “This one will have a different impact feeling, Roxy. I wonder which one you will prefer.”
I hear something move through the air before I feel a flat wooden paddle slap my arse cheek in one quick blow.
I lower my head and suck in a deep breath.
I’m not sure if it hurts more than his hand because it’s wood or because my arse cheeks were already burning hot, but this is a lot of heat focused in one spot.
Moving from left to right, David does not hold back on paddling my backside.
Sometimes in the same spot, sometimes just under my arse cheeks.
I can’t help myself; my body moves involuntarily after each painful slap.
These slaps are bruising. I feel like their impact is hitting on a deeper level, each one building on an intensity—demolishing a pain threshold I thought I had and reaching new levels I’ve never experienced before.
When the blows stop, I try and collect myself. Can’t be much more.