Olivia
My hands are trembling as I try to find the button and zipper of my pants. Her eyes are upon me and my heart is fluttering in my chest, anticipation and apprehension swirling in my stomach. Finally, I manage to grasp the tiny zipper, and listen to the hiss as it releases. I slide the material from my hips, and the first barrier between my flesh and the paddle crumples to my knees. A flush rushes to my cheeks, and I wish I could crumple too.
Her fingers slip from my cheek to the back of my neck, and she pulls me forward. I comply quickly with her motions, eager to hide in the warmth of her lap once more. I feel her hand move to my arm, and she guides my wrist up between my shoulder blades. My breath is rushing heavily between my lips as her legs close around my thighs, holding me firmly in place against her lap.
"Breathe, Olivia." She murmurs as her hand slides down my spine, tracing a path to the edge of my panties.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to follow her orders. I know the techniques, the proper way to get efficient air to my lungs in a high stress situation, but I can hardly think, much less follow a logical thought process.
I gasp softly as her fingers reach my backside, swirling in circles over my thinly veiled flesh. My nerve endings already feel on fire, reacting explosively to every small touch. It's hard not to squirm at the even the softest caress because I know what comes next - the crack of the paddle breaking my flesh, then pain, pain I've never known.
I feel her fingers dip beneath the waistband of my underwear, and my heart kicks up another notch. Her touch is reverent as always, but the dynamics of this interaction are so opposite to everything I've come to associate these actions with that I am left scrambling and uncertain.
My body flushes with that intoxicating mixture of dread and arousal as she tugs my panties down to my thighs, leaving only what flesh she will punish naked and exposed, and a whimper wells in my throat. I try to fight every urge to hide from her scorching gaze, but I find myself cowering down between her legs, my thighs clenching together for some shred of protection.
"Stop moving." She murmurs, a soft command that causes my stomach to clench.
I sink against her, turning my face into her side as my whole body throbs with humiliation, and confusing excitement. My groin is thrumming, and I can feel my swollen parts aching with hot wetness. An aching need resides there, unflinching to my fear and uncertainty, and I wonder again if this is how she feels, laid against my lap, bent over my bed, kneeling before me. She must.
I feel her arm press against my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing that it will come soon, the punishment I have deserved for many, many days. The culminated guilt and desire tear through my body, fighting against my instincts to escape this degrading experience.
"You said that night when you asked for my forgiveness that you'd take the rest of what was meant for me and whatever else I deem fit." She murmurs, a request to give me exactly what I have begged for only a week ago.
My hasty offering seems insurmountable now in the face of certain pain, and I can only nod slowly into her body, my throat tightening as I remember how many lashings I intended to give her. Trepidation seizes my body at the prospect of lying across her legs for twenty, agonizing spankings, if not more. 'Whatever else she sees fit' could mean any number in the universe. It could mean five. It could mean ten or twenty or thirty…
God, please…. The plea runs through my mind, my heart fluttering in quick, shallow beats against my ribs.
I press my lips together hard, holding back every cry for mercy that would leap to my tongue. I am in no position to negotiate, even here in the submission of her lap, and I remind myself again that I promised my silence and cooperation.
"It's going to be a lot, Liv." She murmurs, piercing me through with forceful apprehension. "If you want to stop, just say your safeword, okay?"
I nod once more, a short, ragged motion as my throat tightens with tears. I've been through pain much worse than I know this will be, but it's not simply the spanking that I have to endure. It's also my guilt and the pain I have caused her. I'm going to be forced to contemplate my exact choices for the long minutes it will take to complete my penance, and though I have already spent the past week drowning in regret, another quarter or half of an hour is almost more than I can bear to think of.
"Okay…" She whispers, almost too soft to hear, but I can sense the slightest hesitation in her tone.
I know I could take advantage of her uncertainty. Her fear is no doubt as brutal as mine at this unexpected role reversal, but I refuse to manipulate her to save my own skin. I'd be a coward, and no example to her as her caretaker. I've promised myself and her to submit until she is satisfied. I must do this, and bowing me head, I wait for her to commence the discipline upon my naked backside.
I hear her release a thready breath, and her fingers tighten against my hip. My stomach turns over, and I can hear myself breathing heavily through my nose as I feel the smooth surface of the paddle touch my flesh. I clench my eyes shut, my body rigid as she lines up the length of the tool against my waiting buttocks.
The half second between her drawing back the paddle and first strike coming down is barely discernible. Then the crack of smooth grained wood against skin shatters the silence, and a cry bursts unchecked from my mouth. I'm lunging against her leg, gasping as sharp, tingling pain washes over me, burning deep into layers of flesh. Trembling, I can barely control the tears springing to my eyes as I grapple with the new, fresh sensation.
I feel her adjust her grip on my midsection, and quick gasps rush to my mouth right before the paddle comes down again, harder than the first. My body seizes against her, but she's learned quickly how to hold me in place. She doesn't hesitate, striking me a third time, then a fourth, and a fifth, each one brutal in their singularity. Coupled together I can hardly stand the pain, the humiliation, and her disappointment.
Curling into her side, my body shrinks into her lap. I'm not trying to escape, but for a moment I can't take the emotions and the sensations overcoming my being.
"Liv." She murmurs, her fingers loosening from my hip in order to rub over my back.
I've slipped down between her legs again, and I bury my face in her stomach, silent in shock and embarrassment. The tears burn against my lids, but I can't release a sound as I struggle to grasp what is happening to my body. In the back of my mind, I know that leaving her intended positioning of me is unacceptable, but I don't feel in control. I'm falling apart, and I've hardly taken five of the two dozen that are about to befall me.
"Do you need a moment?" She whispers, bending down to kiss the top of my head, so gentle that I know I don't deserve her kindness.
I nod into her stomach, grabbing at the material of her shirt as I muffle my cries into her stomach.
"Shhh, it's okay." She murmurs, petting my hair with a soothing hand.
Digging my forehead into her soft belly, I feel utterly disappointed with myself. I expect so much of her when our positions are switched, but now that I'm the one taking the punishment, I have withered in only moments.
Pulling back slowly, I drag my hands over my cheeks. I can't meet her eyes. I'm ashamed and frustrated by my lack of performance. I'd decided upon going down this path that I would receive what was due to me without complaint or hesitation, and now I feel like an utter failure.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, my voice cracking as I speak for the first time since entering the apartment.
My hands are clasped over my face, and the urge to dissolve into a mess of distraught tears again is strong. I don't want to put on her more than she can handle. She's already gone above and beyond what any submissive should ever have to do, and I would compact that further by being unwilling and contrary?
"Fuck." I whisper into my palms, my head spinning with expectations and self loathing.
"Liv." Her soft voice breaks through my inner scolding and I feel her touch my hand.
I don't want to look at her, but her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she leans in close to me as my hands slip away. Pressing her forehead against mine, she tangles her fingers in hair, cradling me close to her.
"I'm not mad at you." She whispers. "I know how hard this is."
"But-" I cut in, ready to decimate myself in front of her if it will in any way make up for my lack of obedience.
"Hush." She cuts me off, her tone leaving no room for argument, and I silence, pressing my lips together. "Stop beating yourself up. I'm going to take care you."
Her murmur ends with her lips pressing against my tear stained cheek, and I turn my face into her touch. I'm shivering. Her words seep into the cracks in my heart, spilling warmth across the whole of my existence. I want so badly to trust her, to come undone beneath her in perfect compliance, but nothing about this week has been perfect. She is not perfect. I am not perfect, a fact I must accept should I have any hope at all of making it through this night.
"Okay." I whimper, acquiescing to her orders with hardly a fight.
"Good." She whispers, giving me one last kiss before she leans back, and pats her leg.
I swallow hard, still ducking away from her gaze as I quietly bend back over her knee. Tucking me back beneath her arm, she spreads her fingers back over my hip, and I quiver at her caress.
"I'm not going to stop this time until you say the safe word." She tells me, and I nod pitifully once more.
She knows the thoughts running through my head, and she's going to take away my choice to resist and hide from the punishment. Some part of me trembles in relief that she's decided to guide me towards the stricter rules of our relationship because so far guiding myself has been a gargantuan failure. I've lost control of myself, and all I can do is surrender to her.
Sucking my lower lip into my mouth, I hold back every whimper that rises to my tongue as I feel her shift against me, the weight of her forearm holding me down. I press my eyes shut over lingering tears, tensely waiting. Each second seems agonizing, and I draw a halting breath when I feel the surface of the paddle tap slowly against my burning flesh. Ducking my head, I prematurely stiffen right before the paddle comes down.
"Nngghhh…" I moan, jerking forward against her leg as the pain stings intensely without relief for several brutal seconds.
My flesh has hardly calmed before she strikes me again, hard and calculating. Writhing beneath her arm, I feel crushed again by the reality of this moments, and all the reasons why I'm here. Another sharp rush of tears fill my eyes, and I sink against her body, praying I can find some way to accept the pain and the necessity of it.
Her fingers gently squeeze my side, the slightest reassurance that I can focus on before the next spanking.
"Hold on." She whispers to me, plunging dread into my stomach because she said she wouldn't stop this time.
The paddling that comes in the next second is harsh and unforgiving, taking the breath from my lungs. I'm frozen against her leg as she draws back for what seems like only a millisecond before the lick of the wood greets my backside again. My bodies seizes involuntarily, but she doesn't let me slip away this time. Her toned thighs tighten around my legs, and her elbow presses almost painfully into my back as she whips me again, then again, and again. The pain grows white hot as she layers the lashes on top of each other one after another.
Crack. Crack. Crack. The sound of her shattering my tender flesh rings in my ears, and I convulse with each one, but the arching and dipping of my hips is futile against her iron grip.
I can hear her panting, her body hot and slick with perspiration against me. I intimately know the tremble which captures her now, but until this moment I've known nothing of submission, nor of the aching need which accompanies this humbling act. And I can hardly bear it.
I've lost count of the spankings, consumed by the fiery pain which burns me down to my bones, when I can't take it anymore. My safeword - Apple - is so simple, and I want terribly to cry it out, my tongue feels tied up in humiliation because I have failed already. I've failed to believe her, failed to brave my way through punishment, failed to accept this position as submissive.
Vexed with myself and overwrought with pain, I cry out a guttural sound from my throat, lunging against her leg hard enough to nearly dislodge her grip.
"Olivia." The sound of my name uttered sharply, with an unquestionable warning, strikes me through with the horrifying realization that I have disrespected her yet again.
Shame crawls across my cheeks in a quick flush, and I cower against her, swallowing back any whimpers that would emit from my trembling lips. She's silent for a moment, but I can feel her eyes drilling into the back of my head as though she waits for some explanation, and I sink further into her, mortified by my own inexcusable behavior, the kind I would never accept from her.
"Come here." She orders, suddenly, taking my arm in an unwavering grip.
She pulls me off her lap again, and I crumble between her thighs, my stomach aching with apprehension. She has been more than lenient with my unsatisfactory performance so far, and I more than deserve her stern tone, perhaps, even further punishment, but it's so hard to hear her gentle tone grow rigid with disappointment. Never have I even contemplated the position we are in now, and I am struggling to accept my need for this, much less my desire.
"Liv…." She whispers, leaning her face down next to mine. "Look at me."
I don't move, staring at the tilting, blurry floor resolutely. I know it's disrespectful to disregard this command. Looking into her eyes when she speaks to me is a sign of my submission. I have taught her this many times, but I can hardly stand to lift my face, to have her see the absolute mess I have become. What will she think of me when this is over? When I take my place above her as her caretaker, both of us knowing I could not even once stand in her shoes?
Her fingers seize my chin, and I swallow back trembling cries as she tilts my jaw upwards. I close my eyes against the harsh burn of tears as I feel her gaze cover my distraught expression.
"Open your eyes." She orders, quietly.
Her tone has softened, and feel unworthy all over again. If I had been in her place, I might have told her to get her face on the floor. She'd have lost the right to be in my lap… but still she gives me another chance.
"I'm sorry." I moan once more, my jaw sinking against her hand as I try to pull away.
"Liv, you're not remembering your safe word." She insists, her voice full of commiseration as she pulls me into her chest.
I sink against her breast, emotion quickly rushing to my lips. I know I am far from deserving of her gentleness and mercy, but I do not have the fortitude to deny it. Forgetting protocol, I reach up to grab onto her, holding her small figure as though it will be our last time together. She sighs, softly, her hand at the back of my head.
"Shhh…" She murmurs, rocking me slowly. "It's not the end of the world, baby, I promise."
I sob into her, my cheek pressed against the softness of her breast, and I wish I could find my way beneath her clothing until our flesh is pressed together without boundaries or obstacles. I feel like a little child being rocked and coddled, needy for skin to skin contact; and I don't know whether to accept or reject that concept.
We stay there for a long minute, until my cries dwindle into the nothing and the pain in my backside has dulled to a low throb. She holds me without hesitation, and I feel like a disgrace all over again. Had Amanda been kneeling here, I know she would've fallen beautifully to pieces in my hands, bowed against my thighs until I brought her to the perfect point of release. Meanwhile, I can hardly accept the label of submissive, even for one night...
Finally, I shift, drawing back just enough to hesitantly glance up at her. She meets my gaze with her own conflicted one, her brows drawn, a shimmer in the blue landscape of her eyes, and I know what she's thinking.
Where do I go from here?
How do I do the best thing for both of us?
I don't want to hurt her.
I know because I have thought the same thing many times when the line between the necessity of punishment and the urge to protect blur and dissolve into the tears cascading down her cheeks. It's always a careful balance, one misstep away from plunging us to ruin. And I have misstepped, enormously, egregiously. I cannot let my own weakness sway her.
I have to get through this. The resolution burns through my brain and body, and a reach up a trembling hand to gently touch her cheek. I know what I have to do.
"I need you to get out of the chair." I whisper, my voice broken and raspy with violently shed tears.
Her brow wrinkles with confusion, and she blinks quickly as the meaning of the request settles in her mind.
"You don't want me to hold you?" She murmurs, hesitantly.
I purse my lips together against another rush of tears, and I slide my hand down her arm to where her fingers still grasp the paddle. I close my hand around hers in a firm grip, pressing strength from my palm to hers.
"Of course I want you to." I whisper, hardly able to look up at her as the emotion swims in my eyes. "But you can't coddle me right now, Amanda, do you understand?"
She's quiet for a moment, and I can sense the apprehension holding her body tense. I wonder again if I have put too much before her, and that I have not properly equipped her for this situation. I would've liked to have decided on this course of action together rather than crashing and burning towards the path of resolution, but when I stepped inside this apartment, I could not resist her. I could not say no, and I did not want to.
"Are you sure?" She asks at last, her fingers trailing up my arm.
Inhaling heavily, I nod quickly, finally flicking her a determined gaze.
"Yes. I'm sure."
Her frown deepens, and though I more than understand her point of view, I still feel as though I have responsibility to lead this night in the most efficient direction.
"Amanda," I whisper, squeezing her hand harder. "I know you want me to feel safe, but your body...it's a temptation to me."
I can see the understanding winding through her gaze, and she chews the inner flesh of her lip slowly as she glances down at my hand covering hers.
"You need to focus on the punishment." She whispers at last.
I nod slowly, rubbing my thumb over hers where it's clutched against the curve of the handle. The feeling of the wood skimming my flesh causes the slightest tremble to go through me. Glancing up at her, I catch the renewed determination glistening in her blue eyes, and some sense of relief goes through me that she has not given up.
She hesitates for a moment before she begins to stand from the chair. I sink back as she rises above me, my heart racing quickly with fresh arousal. It's the smallest I have ever been in front of her, and a soft whimper rises in my throat as she steps to the side of the chair, and motions towards the vacated seat.
"Bend over the chair." She orders, her tone firm, her pale, arctic gaze searing into me.
I swallow hard over the saliva that has gathered on my tongue, and I grab the chair with quivering hands. Pulling myself against the seat, I press my forehead to the wood. It's still warm from her body, the scent of her lingers, and I clench my fingers hard around the rungs as I breathe out a trembling breath. I arch back slowly, offering myself to her as openly as I can. My body is throbbing, my flesh stinging, and I can feel the end is near.
"Think about how you're feeling." Amanda murmurs. "Think about how bad your ass hurts right now."
I whimper quietly, tilting my forehead into the chair as her words draw the ache in my buttocks to the forefront of my brain. I told her I needed to focus on the punishment, and she's making sure that's exactly what I'm doing. I squirm, clenching my thighs as I remember each strike of the paddle against my flesh and the resounding crack of it in my ears.
"Are you thinking about it?" She asks, and I feel her fingers brush my shoulder, trailing towards my back.
A shiver washes over my spine and up towards my skull, and I nod quickly, clenching my teeth against further moans.
"Tell me out loud…. How do you feel?" She orders, and I feel her squatting down next to me as her fingers slip down my back to my ass.
I whimper as her fingers knead into my tender, bruised flesh, and I nearly arch away from her. Squeezing the runs of the chair hard, I force myself to remain still beneath her touch, and follow her every order.
"I…" I whisper, my voice husky, and trembling. "I feel humiliated...It hurts… It feels like it will never stop…"
"Mmmm…" She hums in agreement. "Now, imagine I was doing this to you for no reason. Because I thought you did something that you didn't do…"
"Amanda…" I groan, digging my face into the chair as quick rush of tears fill my eyes, followed by harsh guilt in my chest.
"Hush." She orders. "I didn't say you could answer."
I button my lips tightly over my tongue despite my every urge to explode into another string of apologies. She already knows I'm sorry, but the purpose of this punishment and it's accompanying dialogue is to ensure that I will remember my mistake. I'm already certain I will not be so quick to pass judgment should an incident such as this ever occur again, and that realization brings a sense of relief to my body. The feeling of futility that gripped me earlier begins to fade beneath the hope that she will successfully guide us to forgiveness and recompense.
"Are you ready to accept the rest of your punishment?" She asks, softly, as her hand glides up my back.
"Yes." I rasp, hardly able to speak as her palm finds its place at the dip of my spine.
This tumultuous respite has passed, and soon there will be no more relief for my punished flesh. I can either trust her or fail her. God, give me the strength to give her what she wants, and what I so desperately need. I'm going to fall apart, and when I do I have to trust that she's going to catch me. All I have to do is let go.
