Those of you that have read the earlier account called ‘Erica’s Loss’ will be aware that it was a very thorough session, that it was completely unexpected and, throughout, was slightly marred by my worry over not being able to get through to Patrick. My mobile was in my car, which was being serviced and Patrick has one of those systems that rejects all calls that are not from people in his address book. I even tried phoning the office but just got the recorded out-of-hours message. To make matters worse, after my Saturday encounter I was too bruised to be beaten for at least ten days and possibly more. I was sunk. The next day I was due in the office was on Tuesday so thought I could explain then. Tuesday arrived and so did I but there was no Patrick and now, even with my mobile phone back my calls to him were going to voicemail.
“Is Patrick in today?” I asked Josie in a very non-casual voice.
“No, he’s in London at a charity council meeting.”
“Oh.”
“Not back in till Thursday week.”
“I see.” Then, just as I was about to leave, I approached her desk.
“There are one or two things I need to go over with Patrick, so do you think you could let me have a pass for that Thursday afternoon please?”
“Of course, I’ll email the code to you.”
That Thursday arrived and the morning was filled with me packing my son’s old cricket sports bag with everything I thought I might need and then unpacking it all and then re-packing it. This went on for an hour or so until I finally put it in the boot of the car and locked it. Half an hour later I was at the back of the car checking through it all again. Midday arrived and I set off wasting nearly two hours driving around trying to plan out how everything was going to run.
At 1.55 I drew up in the car park and waited whilst Patrick and a couple of others walked past and back towards the office. Patrick noticed my car and came over.
“I’m surprised to see you Joanna, I was expecting you a couple of Saturday’s ago.”
“Yes, I know, can I see you about that later on?”
“There’s nothing to discuss, I just need a letter of resignation by this coming Saturday.”
“Yes, well, if you could just hear me out. After work will be fine. When everyone has gone home perhaps?”
“Okay, I can give you a short while.”
It seems like every three months it’s Christmas and my birthday comes around even faster, after all, it feels like every week it I’m sending birthday messages to one of our children and yet that afternoon dragged by, taking what seemed like an eternity to pass but when five PM finally arrived and I felt the office emptying I went to my car, retrieved my bag and made for the ladies washroom. Once there I checked everything in the bag one more time and then changed, re-sealed the bag and took it back to my office. Some ten minutes passed, and the phone rang. It was Patrick.
“Care to join me in my office.”
“Sure, I’ll be right along.” I gathered my bag and walked slowly and calmly down the corridor. I was in some form of trance-like state. No jitters, no shaking hands, trembling lips. I paused, knocked and waited.
“Come in, come in Joanna” I entered, and he carried on “no need for formalities, you’ll have the letter I imagine” as I entered I placed the bag rather deliberately on the floor then whilst he continued “there’s no need to meet really, you can just hand…” My finger vertically across his lips stopped him in mid flow.
“Shhhhh. Enough.”
I returned to my bag and unzipped it. He looked rather nervous, as though I might be about to produce an AK47. I fished inside and placed squarely in the middle of his desk a heavy leather paddle, gazing into his eyes I then set down a lighter wooden one, then a taws, a longer thin leather strap, a riding crop, some ankle cuffs, some total mittens, a waist harness, a couple of pairs of nipple clamps and, finally three rather different canes. His face was a picture and he moved as though to speak. I silenced him with another “shhhh”
My dress was mid length denim with poppers all the way down the front. I was also wearing stockings and suspenders, high heels and nothing else. Holding the dress at the top with one hand I slid the other through the poppers all the way down in one sweeping movement then slipped it off my shoulders, I was all but naked. I brushed and tweaked my own nipples to make sure they were at their perkiest then I pushed his chair back, gazed into his eyes and said, “Never mind the job, just punish me please sir, and punish me hard.” And with that I draped myself across his lap, my toes in the carpet, my face staring at it. There was a pregnant pause. No sound other than us both breathing, me breathing hard, him breathing harder. Then I felt him touch me. He wasn’t going to refuse after all. Caressing hands feeling all over my soon to be reddened bottom.
And then the spanking started. Those hands, ah… those hands. They certainly didn’t disappoint, raising, as they did, a rosy hue from the off and, genuinely I knew I was to receive a real dose of something I truly needed. Eventually he found his voice.
“If you think you can get around me with feminine wiles and nudity then you can think again young lady” His words told one story, his cock told another and it was a completely different tale.
The wooden paddle was horrible but very rewarding in a strange way, as it sort of anaesthetizes the flesh in a very brutal but ultimately helpful manner and he used it for far longer than I am accustomed to but it was all adding to the heat, which was good. Then he used the leather strap, and I felt his hands at my nipples, tweaking them quite hard, which I liked a lot, especially as he didn’t slow the ministrations to my backside so the stimulating messages were attacking me from both ends. Then, as he told me to stand, I made my move, a move designed to shift the emphasis from pure punishment to erotic punishment: I gripped his cock. His face changed expression from one of determination to one of frustration, but he gathered himself well as I massaged his heavy, well-wrapped member.
He stepped back and taking a pair of clover clamps he locked them onto my nipples and then placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Kneel and do something useful.” I dropped to my knees and opened his trousers pulling out his long, heavy penis then, rolling his balls in my hand, gazed up to make eye contact prior to playing round with the tip of his cock. He was having none of it however and gripped the sides of my head and thrust home. Large and long and fat I struggled to get him all in at first but slowly found my nose making it to his pubic bone. That’s when the real face fucking started: from tip to pubes, he went fully out then fully in and doing so ever faster using my head like a whore’s pussy. I knew it was happening too quickly because very soon I felt that backpressure build up and knew he was past the point of no return and, as he erupted inside my head, I simply couldn’t believe the sheer amount of stuff I was having to swallow. It’s true I love it but this was exceptional and I wondered when he had last ejaculated. Slowly though he became less erect, I say that advisedly as he never went fully limp and, unlike a lot of men who find themselves spent post ejaculation he seemed ever more enlivened and even more dedicated to his task.
I love the riding crop and especially when it’s applied expertly, hard and when I am tied, and helpless. Patrick fastened me into the total mittens and then attached them to the waist harness then cuffed my ankles together so I could hardly move and then, as I stood, helpless in the middle of the office he proceeded to crop me and to crop me everywhere: tummy, back, shoulders, legs – front and back and then that sweet spot (bringing about a tiny little rippling one) before concentrating on my breasts for about five minutes. The clamps were now getting to be too much, and he must have picked up on this because he released them one by one rolling the nipples as he did so, bringing the blood rushing back. That soreness can be bettered by almost nothing else on earth and I loved it. Then he went for the long, soft leather strap, the one that has to be used as though the target is three feet in front of its actual position and for this, he had me, still restrained, bend forward. Immediately prior to beating me he tweaked my nipples hard once more and then soft but then the beating began and that was only hard, very hard. It was only then that I noticed any affection in him as he rubbed my bottom and undid my shackles.
“You’ve taken it very well so far. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’d like you to kiss me.” I replied. And he did.
A long, intimate, almost passionate kiss but one that built in tongue thrusting intensity as his hands gripped my buttocks and I felt his cock nudging between my legs, pressing at that most intimate pleasure button and I responded by pulling his head down and into mine. It was a kiss that must have lasted no more than three minutes, but it seemed like ten. As we broke, he whispered in my ear in a very hushed tone,
“First you kneel, then I cane you.”
“Yes SIR.”
I knelt and this time started to pull his trousers and boxers down and then off. Above me he was removing his upper garments and now all but naked I could appreciate the true nature of his build. There was no gap between his thighs it was all just muscle and whilst a slight belly had developed his chest was out and proud, hairy, manly and be-nippled in the most exciting way. I fondled his balls once more, and then slid him inside my mouth and much more gently this time we found a joint rhythm that suited us both, his moist lovely shaft filling all available space. I knew he wouldn’t come again so soon, so was content to merely feel the fullness of my mouth as my reward. But then he suddenly did start thrusting harder and I wondered for a moment whether I might even get a second load, but he pulled out perhaps intending to save it for a final flourish.
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