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Don looked over from the football game and stared at Lauren facing the corner. He really couldn’t believe his luck. This was exactly the situation he had been looking for for some time.
It wasn’t like there weren’t other women who would be willing to enter into this sort of relationship, who would even enjoy being disciplined. But that was the problem: every other woman he had ever met had actually got off on being treated this way, and that wasn’t what he wanted. It just wasn’t satisfying for him if they enjoyed being spanked or humiliated.
On the other hand, he also didn’t want to assault someone, didn’t want to force her unwillingly into the kind of embarrassment that he wanted to dish out. No, what he wanted was someone willing to be disciplined—someone who almost felt a need for it—but who definitely did not enjoy the actual implementation of the discipline. That was a very rare flower, indeed, and he had found her in Lauren. And to top it off, he thought as he stared at her reddened bubble butt, she was hot.
He had been able to tell on their first day that Lauren was not in that former group of girls, had not been one to get off on being dominated. At most, he thought that she might have just been curious as to what the experience would be like and then decided it wasn’t for her after that first spanking. So, he had backed off, giving her only a couple of mild spankings so as not to push her too far.
Today, though, when she had insisted that she NEEDED more from him, he had known that he had finally found what he was looking for, would finally get to experience his fantasy. And now, intentionally or not, she had given him carte blanche to establish the framework of their new relationship. It was all he could do not to call her over right now and explain to her the new rules of their household—he couldn’t wait to see her reaction—but, no, he wanted to keep her waiting in that corner for a while, keep her wondering just what that contract said.
Besides, he had a few errands that he needed to run first. He turned off the TV.
“Lauren, I’m going out for a while. Do you need to use the bathroom before I leave?”
“No, sir.” The despair in her voice told him that she had, indeed, been contemplating what their contract might say.
“Are you sure, Lauren? You’re not going to be allowed to move from the corner while I’m gone. It might be a while.”
He gave her a moment to think about it. “Well. . . yes, I’d like to go, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
She turned and shuffled to the bathroom, keeping her hands on top of her head. When she came out a few minutes later, she shuffled back to her corner, hands still on top of her head.
“Ok, Lauren, I’m heading out.”
“Sir, before you go. . .”
“Yes?”
“Can I put my hands down? My shoulders are getting really sore like this.”
Don thought about it for a moment. “You may have one alternate position, Lauren, and that is with your hands behind your back, your left hand holding your right forearm just below the elbow, and your right hand holding your left forearm just below the elbow. You can move back-and-forth between those two positions as needed. I might think of more later, but for now, it’s just those two.”
“Thank you, sir.” She shifted to the new position and sighed.
“You’re welcome, Lauren. I’ll be back in a bit.” With that, he walked out to pick up his items.
Lauren didn’t know how long it had been since Don had left, but she was certain it had been at least an hour. If so, she’d spent more time with her nose against the wall and her butt on display than doing everything else she had done today.
She shifted her arms from position one to position two, again—the sixth transition since Don had left. Neither position was painful; her shoulders just became sore after a long time in either one. What was painful was the spanking that she was sure was yet to come today. Her rear end began to tingle at the thought, and she suddenly felt more exposed.
Finally, the door opened. Lauren said nothing waiting for the command that she hoped was coming soon if only to relieve the interminable boredom. She heard Don moving around for a few minutes during which she shifted back to her having her hands on top of her head.
“Come here, Lauren.”
Lauren turned to obey and shuffled over toward Don. He had moved a bar stool into the living room near where he sat on the couch and, she saw with trepidation as she got closer, had placed the paddle and a leather strap with a wooden handle on the coffee table.
“Sit down, Lauren.” He gestured to the stool. She looked at it, confused for a moment, then leaned down to pull up her panties. “No, leave your panties where they are.”
She gulped. For a moment she had thought she was going to escape another spanking, but she supposed Don was just giving her a break after leaving her standing all day. It was awkward pulling herself up onto the stool shackled at the knees by her own panties, but she managed it and then held onto the sides of the stool for balance. The wooden stool was cool and she realized with relief that her butt wasn’t so sore from her earlier punishment.
“Lauren, I’ve done a lot of thinking this afternoon.” HE had done a lot of thinking? She had spent the day staring at a white wall. She hadn’t had anything to do BUT think. “When you told me earlier that you needed me to be more strict, I took that to mean that you wanted to yield some control over your life to someone else—namely, me. Would you say that is an accurate description of what you wanted, Lauren?”
She furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. “I guess s—Yes, it is, sir.” She suddenly felt very sure of those words.
Don nodded. “Well, I’m glad I interpreted that right. The only problem is, Lauren, that if you truly want to yield control, you can’t be the one to set the limit on how much control is yielded. If you pick and CHOOSE what aspects of your life you’ll yield to someone else, then you aren’t truly yielding control. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I. . . I think so, sir.”
“Good. Well, then, that is why I wrote our new contract without your input and that is why I had you sign it without getting a chance to read it. I made the decision on what control you’ll yield to me and, while you may find that some of it pushes your limits, I think you’ll find that it’s overall a reasonable document.
“I’ve made two photocopies of the contract, Lauren. One for you, one to hang on the fridge, and I’ll keep the original. I’m going to go over it with you now. I’m not going to hit all the details—you can read it on your own later—but we’ll go over the major points. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.” More than ready—she was relieved. She had been worried that she would never be allowed to read the contract.
“Okay, first, Lauren, consider yourself now under a curfew. 10:30 on weeknights and 1:00 on weekends. Come home late, and you will be spanked, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.” A CURFEW?! She was 27 years old. She hadn’t had a curfew in a decade. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Okay, a curfew wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like she stayed out that late most nights, anyway.
“Next, Lauren, you are a spendthrift. I don’t think there’s been a week since I’ve been here that you haven’t come home with a new pair of shoes and a matching handbag. I’m going to help you control your spending. From now on, you will turn your paychecks over to me. I will give you $400 per month from that and cover the rent, utilities, and groceries from the rest. I’ll also start a savings account from which you’ll be allowed to borrow—but at a steep interest rate and with a, mmm, required down payment that will make you spend your money more carefully after that.” Lauren found her eyes bulging before Don was halfway through his description, but she bit her tongue. An allowance? From her own money, to boot? Well, if she couldn’t stay out late at night, she wouldn’t really be needing the money, anyway, she thought ruefully.
“And since I will be handling the apartment finances, you are going to start contributing in other ways. You will keep this apartment clean, Lauren. You’ll probably want to plan on cleaning at least every Friday because I’m going to be inspecting it every Saturday morning, and if it doesn’t meet my standards, you are going to find yourself over my knee.” Great. She was going to be paying him to be his maid. “You will also make and serve breakfast every day at 7:00 in the morning and, on nights when you don’t have your class, you will serve dinner at 7:00.” Scratch that—his maid and his cook.
“And that brings us to your education, Lauren. What degree are you pursuing again?”
“A Masters in Finance.” She had dropped the “sir” intentionally. She wasn’t too happy about these new requirements. Although, she supposed, that played back into what Don had been saying earlier. If she wanted to yield control, she couldn’t control what control was yielded. Or something like that.
“Yes, well, I have to say I don’t really approve of you taking those classes. You’re filling a seat a man could be using.” Her jaw dropped. She certainly hadn’t expected THAT from Don. “But, all the same, you’re there, and while you’re there, you will perform well. Any assignment that earns a grade of less than a B+ or an 88% will earn you a hard spanking. Any class in which you earn anything less than an overall A will earn you the strap.” Now Don looked distracted for a moment. “By the way, when we’re done here, I want you to hang the paddle and strap up in your room. Somewhere where you can see them when you’re lying in bed. From now on, you will bring them to me when you’re going to be punished with them.” She shuddered at that and decided that maybe she’d throw the “sir” back in to keep Don in a good mood; somehow, the idea of bringing the implements of her punishment just added to the humiliation.
“Next, your pussy. First, Lauren, you will always refer to it as your ‘pussy’. No other title is acceptable.” She cringed at that. She hated that word. “Second, you will keep your pussy neatly trimmed at all times. I don’t want to have to feel a lot of hair on my lap when I’m spanking you. You will shave everything except for a trapezoid no longer than the length of your index finger, no wider at the top than your middle three fingers, and no wider at the bottom than your middle finger. That hair will be kept between one-quarter and three-eighths of an inch long. You will not, under any circumstances, shave it completely. I will inspect you at any time to make sure you’re in compliance, Lauren, and if you are not, I will whip your pussy with a riding crop. Because of the severity of the punishment, that is the only one I will allow you to appeal. . . ”
Her jaw dropped and she stopped listening. Whip. . . whip her? She made an immediate vow to herself that if she did nothing else, she would keep her pubic hair trimmed the way Don had just described. Then, she shifted uncomfortably as the full implications of what Don was saying sunk in. She had signed a contract earlier today saying that she would keep her pubic area trimmed to his precise specifications or face having it whipped. It certainly was not currently meeting those standards. The fact that she had not been allowed to read the contract—and that she had spent the rest of the day with her nose pressed firmly against a wall—might not be a mitigating factor in Don’s eyes.
“And the final clause,” Don’s voice brought her back to the present. “You will address every man—defined as any male over the age of eighteen—as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr.’ followed by his last name. That’s whether or not I’m around, and I expect you to report any failure and accept a severe punishment.”
“But. . . but, sir, there are men who work for me. I can’t—”
Don cut her off with a raised hand. “I didn’t ask you if it would be difficult. I told you to do it. If you think that your job will make this requirement impossible, maybe the job isn’t appropriate for you.”
“No, sir. I’ll. . . I’ll be able to do it.” She had another thought, something that might be able to distract Don from her poor grooming habits and the potential of a whipping. She cast her eyes downward. “Sir, I feel like. . . ”
“Yes?”
“Well, if it’s wrong for me to not address men as ‘sir’ or with a ‘Mr.’, now, then it’s been wrong all the times I’ve done it in the past.”
“Yes.”
“Sir, could you give me just one long punishment to make up for all of those times?” She was sure her butt could take a lot more punishment than her nether regions.
Don leaned back and smiled, now. “Well, Lauren, I applaud your maturity in making that request. As a matter of fact, I am going to give you one long punishment for your past offenses.” Lauren felt her heart begin to pound and her stomach to flip. “But not right now. No, I’m going to do it tomorrow morning; I want to give you the night to think about it.
“Tomorrow, Lauren, I am going to give you the longest, hardest spanking I have ever given you, designed to make sure you understand your place in relation to men. Do you understand, Lauren?”
She was already crying a little. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Then at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I want laid out on this table your strap, your paddle, and a one-thousand word, hand-written letter explaining why your past behavior was wrong and apologizing for it. And I want you, facing that wall, prepared for your spanking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You may go to your room now to get started on that letter.”
“Thank you, sir.” She got up to go.
“And, Lauren?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m giving you a pass on your pussy, today, but it better be properly trimmed tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
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