Lana had hoped they would. He had quietly eaten his dinner,
and it was only after reading her story a second time that he had made mention
of it.
“With everything else
so perfect,” he began, his eyes unable to hide the playful smile behind them,
“I find myself wondering if you did it on purpose.”
There was no need for
him to explain; they both knew perfectly well what he meant, just as they both
knew perfectly well she had indeed done it on purpose. But still, the game had
to be played out.
“I’m sure I don’t know
what you mean, Sir.”
“Of
course. When you have cleared the table, bring it to me.”
She wasted little time
finishing her dinner and clearing the table. The dishes rinsed and put in the
dishwasher to be completed; she went to the bedroom and retrieved the thing he
wanted. Or perhaps more correctly, the thing she wanted.
It was called The
Merciful One, a wooden paddle small enough to be used by one hand, light and
thin. Smaller than one which might be found in a principal’s office, but more
sturdy than those which came with a string and ball attached. She had made it
for him, at his request, and from her own experience, she knew it was perfect.
It stung like a son of a bitch when applied properly, but at the same time, it
wasn’t heavy enough to cause an actual injury.
“Thank you, Sir,” she
said as she placed it in his waiting hand. Lana then pulled the only other
chair from under the table and placed it in the center of the room. This one he
had crafted for their special sessions. Once a hard backed dining chair, he had
removed most of the back. Now, above the chair’s seat, only the two supporting
posts remained, along with the very top plank of what had once been the back
support. Sitting in the chair, the remaining support would touch her just below
her shoulders, but she never sat in the chair. It was designed specifically for
two positions. One was the main reason for the chair’s modifications. If she
lay on the chair, with her head and shoulders between the supports, it was the
perfect size to allow her knees to be pulled up over her head and tied to the
top, leaving her in the most intimately vulnerable position. The second use for
the chair was what it was to be used for this night.
Lana lay sideways
across the chair’s seat, resting her stomach on the soft padding, her arms and
legs dangling from either side. She waited as patiently as she could, but with
some difficulty. He would take his time because he knew she wanted this. He
would tease her before he began. It was more torturous than anything he would
do with the paddle itself. The thought of asking him to hurry never entered her
mind. The wait was hell, but what a delightful hell it was. Her dark prince
knew her sins and exactly how to celebrate them, incorporating her punishment
into her heavenly reward.
His hand on the small
of her back told her he was ready, gently holding her in place with the warmth
of a deep embrace. His free hand slid behind her, his fingers protruding past
the paddle’s handle, gliding lightly across her skin. The first swat stung
deep, sending rapid shockwaves through her body, and causing her skin to tingle
ecstatically beneath the paddle. Her legs began to tremble immediately as she
allowed her head to hang motionless beneath her.
“Thank you,” she
managed, trying to make the strain in her voice sound, at the least, like it
originated a bit more from pain than pleasure. But was often a trick harder
than she could manage. All he had to do was let one finger slip, and touch her
there, and he would know damn well how much she liked it.
A second swat came
harder than the first, sending an echoing ‘smack!’ bouncing off the walls
before returning to her welcoming ears. Even the sound of the paddle as it
quickly reddened her ass caused a barely controllable urge to beg for more. A
third swat, then a fourth and fifth came in rapid succession, stealing any
delusions of control from
and it was only after reading her story a second time that he had made mention
of it.
“With everything else
so perfect,” he began, his eyes unable to hide the playful smile behind them,
“I find myself wondering if you did it on purpose.”
There was no need for
him to explain; they both knew perfectly well what he meant, just as they both
knew perfectly well she had indeed done it on purpose. But still, the game had
to be played out.
“I’m sure I don’t know
what you mean, Sir.”
“Of
course. When you have cleared the table, bring it to me.”
She wasted little time
finishing her dinner and clearing the table. The dishes rinsed and put in the
dishwasher to be completed; she went to the bedroom and retrieved the thing he
wanted. Or perhaps more correctly, the thing she wanted.
It was called The
Merciful One, a wooden paddle small enough to be used by one hand, light and
thin. Smaller than one which might be found in a principal’s office, but more
sturdy than those which came with a string and ball attached. She had made it
for him, at his request, and from her own experience, she knew it was perfect.
It stung like a son of a bitch when applied properly, but at the same time, it
wasn’t heavy enough to cause an actual injury.
“Thank you, Sir,” she
said as she placed it in his waiting hand. Lana then pulled the only other
chair from under the table and placed it in the center of the room. This one he
had crafted for their special sessions. Once a hard backed dining chair, he had
removed most of the back. Now, above the chair’s seat, only the two supporting
posts remained, along with the very top plank of what had once been the back
support. Sitting in the chair, the remaining support would touch her just below
her shoulders, but she never sat in the chair. It was designed specifically for
two positions. One was the main reason for the chair’s modifications. If she
lay on the chair, with her head and shoulders between the supports, it was the
perfect size to allow her knees to be pulled up over her head and tied to the
top, leaving her in the most intimately vulnerable position. The second use for
the chair was what it was to be used for this night.
Lana lay sideways
across the chair’s seat, resting her stomach on the soft padding, her arms and
legs dangling from either side. She waited as patiently as she could, but with
some difficulty. He would take his time because he knew she wanted this. He
would tease her before he began. It was more torturous than anything he would
do with the paddle itself. The thought of asking him to hurry never entered her
mind. The wait was hell, but what a delightful hell it was. Her dark prince
knew her sins and exactly how to celebrate them, incorporating her punishment
into her heavenly reward.
His hand on the small
of her back told her he was ready, gently holding her in place with the warmth
of a deep embrace. His free hand slid behind her, his fingers protruding past
the paddle’s handle, gliding lightly across her skin. The first swat stung
deep, sending rapid shockwaves through her body, and causing her skin to tingle
ecstatically beneath the paddle. Her legs began to tremble immediately as she
allowed her head to hang motionless beneath her.
“Thank you,” she
managed, trying to make the strain in her voice sound, at the least, like it
originated a bit more from pain than pleasure. But was often a trick harder
than she could manage. All he had to do was let one finger slip, and touch her
there, and he would know damn well how much she liked it.
A second swat came
harder than the first, sending an echoing ‘smack!’ bouncing off the walls
before returning to her welcoming ears. Even the sound of the paddle as it
quickly reddened her ass caused a barely controllable urge to beg for more. A
third swat, then a fourth and fifth came in rapid succession, stealing any
delusions of control from
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