A Spanking Story- The Mentor pt 3 #NSFW, 18+

Hello my WordPress friends!  I present to you the final segment of The Mentor, written by my dear friend, Implacable.  And to you, Selina, I hope you enjoy reading! 🙂

The Mentor

Part 3

Written by: Implacable

I quailed somewhat at the thought of a caning.  Silly girl!  What did I think he told me to buy a cane for?  So he could look at it?  No, I’d known this was coming all along, but somehow I had managed to hide the fact conveniently from myself.  Another early lesson – there will be hidings a-plenty, but no hiding of the truth from myself, and I’d better learn that lesson well.

Almost as if he could read my mind, Sir continued, “You will come to understand that once you have learned to accept the reality of your own life, you will be far better able to see through the delusions and deceptions of others.

“The cane like all of the other devices I shall use on you hurts.  It hurts a great deal.  But, aside from the, often considerable, sexual pleasure that is afforded to the recipient, pain will force you to recognise your true self, your strengths and weaknesses as a person.  If for no other reason than this, your journey with me (well as your body) will be marked by frequent spankings.

“Now come; please bend over the desk and learn the feel of the cane against your buttocks.  You will take two dozen strokes.  That may seem a lot to you, and I dare say for the first few times, it will seem impossible to take.  But take them you will.  I have a rule that two dozen is the minimum for a grown woman.  Any less would be an insult.  I regard the traditional six of the best as suitable only for a young adult up to 21.  A woman up to 25 should have at least a dozen.”

He motioned to his wife, “Chloe, please untie Natalie’s hands.  I think it best that you hold her from the other side of the desk.  The first caning can be difficult to bear.”

I forbore to speak.  The thought of two dozen strokes from that mean looking rod thrilled me with fear.  Why wasn’t I running away from this?  Why had I made up my mind to meekly bend over the desk?  I cannot say.  Chloe untied my wrists and I rubbed them ruefully for a while before taking up my position across Sir’s desk.  Chloe grasped my wrists and I held on tightly to hers.  Panic stricken, I looked into the eyes of this naked woman, at her stripes, at the semen that had dried on her thighs.  I was about to be thrashed, but I couldn’t help thinking how erotic and beautiful she looked – the stains on her thighs were an unambiguous declaration that here was a woman who had been wantonly fucked.  The criss-cross welts added to her beauty, for she was not only well fucked, but well owned and spanked, a woman who consented to all and received all.

“Courage, honey” she murmured with compassion.  “It hurts like crazy, but it is wonderful to submit.  You’ll find out in time.”  She bent and kissed me with a long lingering kiss.  I’ve had the odd fling with girl-friends of mine so kissing a girl isn’t exactly new to me, but that kiss was so full of meaning, of passion, of promise of things to come that I nearly swooned.  Chloe was obviously going to be a very, very close friend!

And then Sir struck.  That first stroke was like nothing I had ever felt before.  It stung like hell.  I cannot describe adequately in words what it felt like.  After the immediate impact, I had an extraordinary urge to rise and grab my wounded behind.  It was only Chloe’s hands holding mine that prevented me.  And then a second or two afterwards, the pain seemed to just explode.  I felt physically sick.  I panicked again.  My legs went berserk kicking out and I was screaming and yelling.  Not a dignified acceptance I have to admit.

I was already sobbing.  If I’d had the presence of mind, I would have called the whole thing off there and then.  I was very sure I did not want another 23 of those thank you very much!

Sir waited until I’d calmed myself.  “Brace yourself Natalie.  You will find that after the first few strokes you will be able to gain a sort of rhythm and absorb the pain better.”

Just as the sting started to subside, the second one came whooshing in.  I had visions of hell.  I bucked and kicked and screamed again.  Thank God for Chloe is all I can say.  She looked at me calmly – I could see through my tears, just.

“Hold on and ride the pain.  You’ll find that you CAN bear it, even though it feels like you’ve sat on a bee’s nest.”

She was right about the bee’s nest.  And they were bloody angry about it too.

I won’t bore you with the details of all 24 strokes.  I recall strange thoughts after about half a dozen strokes of bombers lining up overhead to land napalm on my arse.  The fire just went on and on.  Sir ignored my screams and cries for mercy.  He thrashed me, the way he has always spanked me since that day, very, very hard.  If I love the cane now, it is a love acquired over time.  I did not love it that day, though I’m sure I already loved the man who wielded it.  I withstood the onslaught only through the aid of Chloe and her iron grip on my wrists.  For I had totally lost all control after only a few of my stripes had been delivered.  I swear, through the mayhem and turmoil of my twisting and turning and screaming, I felt each welt rise on my behind.

It did end.  Fortunately, for me, Sir made allowances for my disgraceful behaviour under punishment.  However, before the next act, I was given a rather stern warning that future ill-discipline would result in additional strokes.  It was a lesson that I learned over the next few months through much pain that I could have avoided, but it was a lesson well learned.

This time, instead of sending me to the corner, Sir had me kneel on the floor and pay homage to his manhood.  He opened his dressing gown sufficiently wide to free his penis for my attention.  He had obviously enjoyed caning me because his cock was standing as proudly erect as any I’ve ever seen.

Weeping and snivelling, you’d think that the last thing I’d want to do would be to suck the bastard’s cock.  But we women are strange creatures;  at least I am, and it seemed so natural to pleasure my Lord after he had demonstrated his mastery over me in such a fashion.  And so from one rod to another, I took his glorious, impudent cock between my lips and tried my best to please him.

I believe I did a reasonable job;  though one of the many sexual skills I have learned since being with Sir is how to properly fellate a man.  We live and learn.  Sir knows these things and he also knows that practice makes perfect;  believe me, I’ve had to do a lot of practicing!  Not least of my problems was that I couldn’t breath through my nose what with all the histamines kicking in with the spanking and so I had to breath ‘round his thick cock.  Sir has a right tonsil tickler so it wasn’t easy.  Sir says that being sucked off by a girl immediately after a thrashing is the best time because she is so soft and submissive and accepting, and having your cock bathed in tears is rather erotic – well I’m sure it is for him, I was just supplying the tears so I wouldn’t know.

I rubbed my bottom as I worked on Sir’s cock with my mouth.  The sting was searing, but just beginning to subside into that beautiful throbbing feeling that a girl soon learns to love.  In many ways, it’s the best part of a thrashing, the afterglow.  Depending on how severe the spanking and your experience, it will last days, if you’re lucky.  But back to the business of cock-sucking;  before I could decide whether I was going to swallow or not, Sir nullified the question – as if was ever my decision anyway!  He withdrew from my mouth (shame! I was just beginning to really enjoy the task, and I’m sure I would have swallowed everything after all!).

“Over my desk with you please Natalie.  It is time for me to take my pleasure in your bottom.”

So there it was at last.  I was to be buggered and now was the time to make up my mind whether I was going to stay or not.  Get real!!  I’d just had the thrashing of my life (at least up to that point) what girl was going to quit after that?  And anyway the idea of taking my mentor up my naughty hole was beginning to grow on me.

As further lubrication was not necessary, Sir dispensed with any preliminaries and thrust slowly but surely into my tight little hole.  I was about as aroused as I have ever been, I must admit.  I had expected my arousal to have forsaken me during my caning but no, I was wetter than ever and as Sir pumped into me, thrusting his thighs against my fresh welts, I realised the truth that all through the horrible experience, I’d not only stayed wet, but had become more so;  so that by the time I’d started gobbing my mentor’s manhood, I was up for anything whatsoever.

The feel of him thrusting into my bottom filled me with pleasure.  Each time his thighs rubbed against my sore bottom, fresh fires erupted in my weals.  But these were fires of pleasure;  already I was starting to understand why a woman would give herself over to a man like this.  To be spanked and buggered – once I thought that was the epitome of sexual abuse and an abomination to womanhood;  now I understood that it was a most intimate pleasure to be shared between two loving adults.  How quickly our sacred cows can be turned into a delicious steak dinner!

I have to give it to Sir, orgasm number four hove into view and assailed me as he pumped my behind full of his precious seed.  I may not have valued it in those terms then, but now it is the highest accolade my master (for he is clearly now both master and mentor) can give me and for that, I will do anything – and I mean anything.

A period in the corner while Sir gently instructed me on how I would become a woman of power, how the more I submitted myself to him I would come to know my true self.  All the while his semen trickled stickily out of my anus and down my legs to catch at my stocking tops.  I worried that I would leave stains on the floor, but it seemed to congeal quickly on my thighs and stay there (in the same way it had on Chloe’s).  And if the meaning of his message sometimes drifted out of my grasp as my mind wondered through the new gardens of fulfilment that I had discovered that evening, the sound of his voice, deep and masculine, was pure delight to listen to.  It seemed to perfectly compliment the throbbing of my bottom, the drying tears and semen that adorned my body, the new horizons that had been opened for me this night.  Had I been alone with all of this it would have been overwhelming, but having that steady, commanding voice caressing my senses, that firm strong will guiding me, I was safe, I could not fall over the yawning precipice;  and so I could enjoy the pleasures of new experience.

 

[My cunt, perineum and anus have all gone numb.  That horrible sort of numb that stills hurts but it’s sort of bearable, except you can’t bear it;  except of course you can, and somehow it is a pain that does rather strange yummy things inside your body and your mind!  I just know I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!]

 

Pleasant thoughts in the corner were banished.

“I think she’s gone to sleep!” came Sir’s incredulous voice.

“Young lady!”  Slap.  A sharp pain in my bottom brought me back to the land of the living.

Slap, slap, slap.  “I don’t think you’ve listened to a word I’ve said!”  Slap, smack, smack.

I owwwed and ahhhed sufficiently to convince Sir that he now had my attention.

“I think it’s time you understood what your hairbrush is for.  Bend over Chloe’s lap and she will administer the brush until I think you’ve had sufficient.”

Chloe went to sit down in the chair the I had previously wet.  It was still wet – how embarrassing!  Worse, she bent down to sniff at the stain.  She licked the wet material, rose and smiled at me.  “Delicious.” she said, smiling at me.  “I hope Sir will let me drink at the source soon.”  And with a twinkle in her eye, she sat on the chair and patted her stockinged knees.

An assenting growl from Sir, “All in good time my lady.  Let’s just attend to our novice’s sit-upon for the moment.”

I did as I was told and bent over Chloe’s thighs.  The thought of her lapping at my sex was rather exciting, but for now I was about to get another spanking.  Strange how I wasn’t frightened or worried.  Looking back it is amazing how quickly I assimilated my new situation and adapted my thinking to accept pain as not just a necessary part of my status as mentee, but as something to be taken for granted.

I love the hairbrush these days.  It is a very intimate instrument to be spanked with.  It is small and easy to hold and can be accurately applied.  In contrast the cane takes a lot more practice to wield successfully and it takes a real artist to apply it to the more sensitive parts of a woman without the real risk of causing injury.  Believe me.  I speak from experience both as a receiver and deliverer!

The hairbrush is particularly effective on cane stripes, as I found out as Chloe brought it down on mine.  Having been caned only a short while before, my fresh weals stood proudly on my back-side.  They were still throbbing, so the stimulus of the application of the hairbrush caused the most exquisite stinging pain.  I’m sorry to have to report that I howled from the first smack and squirmed on Chloe’s thighs like a hooked fish.

For the benefit of the purists, who just have to have the details, I don’t think anybody counted strokes – I certainly didn’t!  I can report that after about four strokes I put my hands back to protect my bottom.  Apparently that wasn’t well received.  Sir came around to Chloe’s side and pinned my arms to my back.  Chloe gave me a very hard half dozen on the backs of my thighs.  And she threatened to smack the insides next time I tried.  Suffice to say I struggled hard to discipline myself to keep my hands on the floor to avoid that fate.

… I failed.

I was made to lie with my back on the desk.  Sir straddled my chest and held my legs back over my head and well spread.  At his command, I grasped his thighs with both hands.  In that position my inner thighs and sex were totally at Chloe’s disposal.

The bitch walloped me.  And by God she enjoyed it.  Please excuse my language, but it fucking hurts to be spanked on the insides of your thighs, especially close to the pussy.  It is excruciating; and in a horrible way, it’s also wonderful.  Sorry, I can’t explain it.  These days, I love to be forced to open my legs voluntarily (I’m sure you know what I mean) for a whipping on my inner thighs and sex.  But there is no way I could have held my legs open by myself for Chloe that night.  Oh, and by the way, she frigged my pussy and bum-hole.  That was nice.  Sorry I called you a bitch Chloe, it was very nice.  And then the bitch thrashed me again!  I can still recall the flames in my thighs as she worked me up and down, and particularly down.  Our Chloe knows how to hurt a girl (I guess she’s been on the receiving end often enough, she should know), and she surely hurt me.  But then the fingers again.  Lovely fingers has Chloe.  And when it was over, Sir gave her permission, and she licked it all better, my thighs, oh my hot, hot thighs and then my pussy.  Another orgasm.  A very bright, burning, brittle one.  And then my bottom (the bitch licked all Sir’s cream away didn’t she).  I love Chloe’s tongue in my bottom – it is the ultimate in sexy I promise you – you should try it (bet you wish you could).

To say I wept the whole way through is not quite the full story (not forgetting the snot again – God it’s like someone had installed a bloody tap on my nose and as soon as I get hit, it gets turned on.  And of course, there is the lake at the other end, between those very thighs that are copping the mother of all wallopings!)  The full story is that I’d been crying as soon as I went over Chloe’s lap for the dance of the whirling hairbrush.  So it was more of a continuation of that strange but wonderful combination of agony and ecstasy that is the lot of the submissive.  And if you’ve never had an orgasm while balling your eyes out, you’ve missed something extraordinary I promise you.

Intermission over, Chloe resumed her seat and I was restored to Chloe’s lap.  Oh, no surely not more?  Yes my girlie, more.  Hard, hard smacks with the hairbrush over those sore welts again.  More screams and tears and pleas for mercy, begging for it to stop.  It doesn’t.  My cries ignored by people much more experienced than I.  People who love and care for me, more than I’ve been loved and cared for by anyone before in my life – but I didn’t know that then.  I do now.

I managed to keep my hands away from my bottom though I was sorely tempted.  But my inner thighs were more than sore enough to remind me of the consequences so I bucked and struggled but kept my hands away from my bottom – just.  Instead, I fell off Chloe’s lap three times and that earned me a dose of the tawse.  They were kind to me, I only got three strokes for each time I fell off … on each hand.  And another dozen of the cane on my thighs for pulling my hand away and being silly and crying and refusing to put my hands out and stuff.  Well it was getting late into the evening and I’d had rather a tough introduction, and … and … the tawse really hurts across your fingers and I’d had enough, so I didn’t want that last caning.  I really didn’t.  But fuck it, I wasn’t giving up after all I’d been through that night so I bent over and took it, cursing under my breath all the way.  Chloe held me down and whispered sweet words in my ear as I took those last dozen.

Sweet words like, “I can’t wait to cane you Natalie.”

Swish.  Thwack.  Scream.

“I’ve got just the right whip for your pussy, dear Natalie.”

Swish.  Thwack.  Scream.

“Don’t worry, I know just how to make it feel like you’ll never walk again.”  Such a comforting soul she is.

Swish.  Thwack.  Scream.

“Oh, that one really hurt didn’t it love.  I love to hit a girl there, right in the sulcus.  Gets her right up on her toes doesn’t it!”  And then turning to Sir, “She really enjoyed that one Sir, and requests that you put all the rest there.”  The bitch.  The rotten bitch!

I won’t bore you with the details, but I received my full complement of  Swish.  Thwack.  Scream.  But I must report that I received lots of cuddles and kisses afterwards.  I distinctly remember that the wet spot on the chair was rather larger than before and when Chloe saw me looking at it she caught my eye and winked at me.  Well, at least I wasn’t alone in disgracing myself!

I went home that evening a very, very sore woman.  As promised, Sir lent me a copy of the “Story Of O” by Pauline Réage.  It was my homework for the week to read and absorb the book.  I would be questioned on it on my visit next Friday evening.  Sir expected me to be able to discuss the concepts and premise of the book in detail, with intelligence.  I felt very much the school girl as I left that evening;  albeit a well thrashed one!  I have to confess that, if I was still weeping and snivelling as I was kissed goodnight, I was feeling rather happy and fulfilled inside.  After all, it wasn’t such an unpleasant thing to be a schoolgirl again.

I can’t remember driving home, though I must have because when I woke up the next morning, I was at home and my car was there, but it was all a blur.  I do vaguely remember that holding the steering wheel with my tortured hands was a torture in itself.  And sitting wasn’t comfortable.  Definitely not comfortable.

I didn’t do much for that weekend.  I remember Chloe came to see me on Saturday morning.  I hobbled to the door, barely able to stand, let alone walk.  The pain in my thighs and bottom was extraordinary.  Since then, of course, my muscles have all attuned themselves to the requirements of a spanked woman, but on that first “morning after”, I hurt like hell.  Chloe knew exactly what the score was and put me straight back to bed and massaged my aching muscles and put some sort of magic cream of her own recipe on my welts and bruises that did wonders to easy the soreness.  I now have several large jars of the stuff on hand at home (and at the office).

And when she had finished that, she used her own body to nurse me better.  As she stripped off her clothes I was sure there were more marks than I’d seen last night.  She laughed at me and said “Silly, Sir had our maid Beatrice whip me this morning just before I left home.  It’s part of her training as well as mine.”

I gasped.  Whipped by her own maid!  How on earth could she consent to that?  I was to learn that a woman will consent to literally anything given the right circumstances, but I was still a novice then.

Chloe gave me note.  It was from my mentor.

“Natalie,

I am very pleased with your progress.  Your behaviour and level of obedience last night were encouraging, given that it was your first night.

As a reward, I have asked Chloe to put herself at your disposal.  She has consented.  There is nothing that you may not ask of her except that you may not permanently harm her.

Consider this as a further part of your training.

Please return her to me on Sunday morning.

Yours in love and discipline,

Rupert”

There was much loving that Saturday.  And I learnt some of the ways of cruelty and the infliction of pain.  Chloe, in her own way was just as apt a teacher as my mentor.

But that is all for another day.

 

[Finally!  I’m not sure I can actually get off this fucking thing.  It feels like it’s welded to my cunt and arse.  Oh shit, I’m really going to be for it when Sir reads this!!!  Well here goes.  Oh God, I don’t think my legs work anymore.]

THE END

And to Implacable….thank you for sharing your works with us, Sir.  I am grateful for your friendship 🙂

XOXO,

nora