This is a sequel to the nine chapters of My Summer with Nora, starting with Chapter 01. It takes place two years later in the late summer of 1976.
Originally I planned this as two stories, but it seemed better to combine them into one story with two parts. The first part is from Nora’s point of view but it is told in the third person. Sexual activities are discussed but not depicted.
The second part is told in the first person, and that section contains the actual BDSM event. Nora is looking back at her experiences from a number of years in the future.
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Nora is Recruited
Two young women sat in a diner on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Both of them were about to start their senior years of college. Nora Meara attended the City College of New York, a public institution that was part of the City University (CUNY). It was located uptown in Manhattanville/West Harlem.
The other one, Gilda Wasserman, attended New York University (NYU), a private school in Greenwich Village. It had already developed a reputation for being an expensive school, although the tuition and other costs were nowhere near what they would be in later decades.
Meanwhile, in this September of 1976, Nora was about to pay her first-ever tuition bill. The free status of the city system, which had existed for well over a century, had become a casualty of the city and state fiscal crises.
Nora was aware of the higher social status of Gilda, who could afford to go to a private university. But the two shared something else. In their freshman years, both had worked as ad hoc, part-time hookers on their respective campuses.
Both had gotten into the job almost by accident, and both had quit at the end of their freshmen years. Gilda, however, had met some people in her junior year who have gotten her back in, but she worked exclusively as a dominatrix that time around.
When Nora had heard about these other people, she thought, hah, a bunch of pimps and madams. She liked the idea of keeping her money for herself. Yet she knew that her independence couldn’t last forever, which was one of the reasons she quit two years earlier before her luck ran out.
Just as her freshman year ended, Nora had piled up a significant reserve of cash. At first, she stowed small bills in her dresser at her home, then she opened bank accounts. She bought the 1970 Mustang convertible that she coveted.
One thing that surprised her was the number of other girls from around the city who heard about her and came to visit her at City College to recruit her for some operation or another. Information spread quickly in the underworld, and it was difficult to keep secrets.
When her sophomore year started, and she was out of the business, she got fewer visitors. Gilda found her at the beginning of Nora’s senior year in 1976. In an unusual move, Gilda invited her to dinner at a restaurant on the Upper West Side.
Both girls were on the tall side, but Nora had dark-blonde hair and steel-rimmed glasses. Back in the fall of 1974, she had tried a bob cut and decided that she liked it so much that she would keep it. Gilda was a brunette, and her dark hair was long and flowing. They were casually dressed, although Nora could see that the other woman had better quality clothes than she herself had on.
As they talked for a while, Gilda asked her, “So what motivated you to leave the business?”
“Well, for one thing, after ten months, I was getting tired of the whole scene. It was quite a stressful grind after a while, both emotionally and physically.”
“I can understand that; it happened to me too.”
“The event that really convinced me to get out was that I got a boyfriend. The strange thing is that he started out as a customer.”
“Would you tell me a little about that?”
“Okay, but it’s going to take a bit of explaining.”
“That’s fine; I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, in my history class there was a guy named Paul who had noticed me. By the way, it was obvious that he was a virgin.”
Gilda found that amusing, “Somehow they always give themselves away through various clues.”
“So he said very little to me during all of that time, although I knew he was looking at me. Finally, near the end of the semester — well I knew he was getting good grades and I wasn’t. So I invited him to the Finley snack bar and made him an offer. If he would write my term paper for me, I would give him a blowjob. And he accepted the deal.”
She continued, “So at the beginning, it went quite well. We met at a college newspaper office one night, and I got my term paper and he got blown by me. I refused to swallow, however; we had already agreed to that.”
“Sounds like a reasonable deal.”
“But then we got into a fight about nothing, really. We yelled at each other, and we slapped each other’s faces. He must have been triggered by it all because he pulled me across his lap and spanked my bare ass. I was amazed to find out that I enjoyed it. I got so turned on that I let him fuck me from behind.”
“Oh, the sweetness of young love.”
“After that, we were both a bit stunned, but then he invited me to dinner downtown. I figured, what the hell, I had never had a real date at the school, I might as well go. And, just like that, I had a boyfriend.”
“How long did this affair last?”
“Just over four months. I was feeling my sexual power for the first time at something beyond prostitution. I hooked up with an older guy named Greg, who had a good job down on Wall Street, plus he owned this beautiful Triumph Stag convertible.”
“I get it, you went with a bigger, better deal when it came along. That’s understandable.”
“Also, I had confessed everything to Paul, and I wanted someone who didn’t know anything about my past. He really loved me, but he was a young liberal arts major with no clear prospects ahead of him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do in the long run. Meanwhile, I got a Mustang convertible I bought with the money I had made for myself.”
“Still, I feel a bit sorry for him.”
Nora replied, “Don’t be. By that point, I had joined the newspaper he was on and I’ve been there for the last two years. I heard all about his later romantic exploits. Soon after I dumped him, he picked up not one, but two other girls on campus.”
“He was feeling his sexual power too.”
“Exactly. So he has been getting plenty of poontang, although the last few months have been a bit slow for him. Anyway, as you can probably tell, he and I are still friends, or maybe it’s just acquaintances.”
“Nora, could you tell me about the dominatrix gigs you had during that time?”
“Oh sure, although I refused to be submissive myself to any man, for any price. Only my boyfriends get to spank me and, yes, they always want to do that. Usually, I only let them use their hands; rarely is it an implement. Occasionally I will submit to light bondage from them.”
Gilda said, “I’ve also heard that you refused to have vaginal sex for pay. Why is that?”
“I’m not sure why; that’s just where I drew the line. It’s like most hookers won’t kiss their customers. Anything else, anal, oral, manual — you know, handjobs — was up for negotiation. I’d even fluff a guy by grinding my bare ass against his bare crotch. One guy kept his trousers up, and he ejaculated into his pants.”
“What did you think of the dominatrix gigs?”
“To tell you the truth, that was the only aspect of the whole thing that I really enjoyed. I liked verbally humiliating and chiding them as much as I liked giving the actual spankings.”
“You see, Nora, I could offer you a part-time dominatrix position if you wanted it. It would all be in-calls; we have apartments, really nice ones that you could use.”
Nora wondered who “we” referred to. Back in the 1970’s, the Mafia was still fairly powerful, and they had a major hand in the prostitution game. She figured that she really didn’t need to know that unless Gilda offered to tell her. Maybe the apartments give them a place they had available when they “hit the mattresses,” if they still did that.
Nora had other issues that Gilda could indeed answer. “When I was doing these amateur dominatrix jobs, sometimes the customers would want a sexual release from me at the end. Of course, I would charge them extra for that.”
“It’s pretty much the same here. Everything has to be worked out with the clients before the job can start.”
“Okay, but I did get tired of having to deal with the splooge of these guys, and getting it all over myself at times.”
“You could have them masturbate while they look at you. And you can always turn down a job and we’ll have some other girl take it.”
Nora said, “Yes, I did do that peep show thing at least once — without the glass of course. I bent over and showed this guy my pussy and butthole while he jerked off, and then he had a huge orgasm.”
“It’s sort of like 3-D pornography.”
Nora was now enjoying her reminisces. “That’s right. I’ve had the same thought about hooking in general. I remember one poor guy, I was spanking him over my knees, and he got so excited that he ejaculated onto my lap. I made him pay for the dry cleaning bill.”
“Of course, that’s only fair that they pay for things like that. Nora, do you have your own apartment now?”
“No, for years now I’ve been living with my uncle at his house in Maspeth, Queens. During my hooking days, I would have customers come out there when he was at work. You’d be surprised at how far some of them would travel to see me.”
Gilda said, “Despite the so-called sexual revolution, there are a lot of guys out there thirsty for some sex. They sometimes forget that a hooker is not their girlfriend and she isn’t going to cater to their emotional or romantic needs.”
“Yes, I definitely have seen that. I always told them to scram once they had their orgasms. By the way, once my uncle came home early and he caught me on my knees in the living room blowing a customer.”
“I bet that didn’t go well.”
“Man, did he get pissed. He beat my bare ass with his belt until it felt like my butt would fall off. I wound up kneeling on the floor again. Yet I had already met Paul and I knew I liked that kind of thing despite the pain — although a belt really hurts for sure.”
Nora stopped for a moment and she realized that she was blushing. “Yet that night in my bed I masturbated like crazy, imagining getting that belt across my backside again.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed; a lot of girls feel that way. Or they did back when they worked as submissives. They would get pussy tingles during or after they were spanked, and they might have to masturbate later. Of course, we don’t offer submissive women, only dominant ones.”
“That’s fine, I wasn’t submissive with the johns back then and I’m not going to start now. By the way, my uncle was a hard spanker; he had big hands from his years of construction work. He spanked me with my Burger King uniform down a couple of times that summer after I had quit hooking.”
Gilda said, “That’s one I never heard before, I mean our clients don’t request fast food girls. It’s a good thing because we’d be hard-pressed to get a uniform for her.”
“I’ve dominated Paul myself, and he seemed to love it.”
“A couple of switches in love. How romantic.”
“I was pretty harsh with him too; I used a paddle and a hairbrush on his bare ass. Then I denied him sex for several days even though he really wanted to fuck me. I’m not sure why I did that, because I was masturbating like every day during that period and I’m sure he was too.”
Gilda said, “It was a little game you were playing on him. So, do you ever miss Paul? He was your first real boyfriend, right?”
“But not the first guy I ever got off, that is for sure! Well, we’re still on the paper together, so I see him a lot. However, I know we’ve both moved on.”
Gilda said, “Let’s talk terms here. I know you’re still in school, so you wouldn’t be available all of the time.”
“That’s fine if it’s okay with you.”
“I’m a part-timer too, so I fully realize that school has to come first. Now of course, unlike a freelancer, which you used to be, you will only get a percentage of each deal.”
Yet when Nora heard the potential amount of money she could make anyway, she was astonished at the amount. When she was starting out three years earlier, she had to adjust her prices downwards somewhat. Initially, she didn’t know what she was doing, and she had overestimated what guys were willing to pay for her services.
Gilda said, “Just think of it Nora, you’ll be able to get your own place and leave your uncle’s house in Maspeth. Of course, the place where you live will not be one of those we use for your sessions.”
Nora aired an objection. “I don’t want to spend my whole life doing this.”
“Nobody said you have to. But you haven’t graduated yet, so you haven’t really started your life. Having some extra money will help.”
“I still have some savings left from that period, and that was two years ago.”
“As I said, we do in-calls only, and we screen our clients pretty carefully.”
“That has to be better than some of the jokers I had to deal with back then. A few of them didn’t even bathe often enough. And the nasty things many of them called me…” She left the rest of her thought unsaid.
“You will have to talk to them on the phone before you meet them. Find out exactly what they want and how they want it. Give them a safe word, although very few men use them when they are the bottoms.” Gilda added, “You should let them know that whether or not you will accept any sexual contact, although cock and ball play is certainly an interesting side activity. Instead of giving them a release, you could deny it to them.”
“I did that once with a john. I took his pants off and tied his hands behind his back. Then I did a striptease and ended with a dildo up my cunt as he watched. His cock was bouncing around so much that I thought he might come without any physical contact.”
“That’s very imaginative! What’s weird is that these guys are our clients, yet they are paying in some ways to give up control over what happens to them. If they do set limits of their own, however, we have to respect that too like they respect ours. So, anyway, then what happened with him, the guy whose hands you tied?”
“I told him to go home and finish himself off. We had already agreed to it.”
“Oh, but I bet you liked doing that!”
“Frankly, his cock was so huge I was very tempted to just have him screw me right there, which I had never let a customer do before.”
“You let Paul do it.”
“That whole episode with him was a case in itself. I definitely didn’t charge him after we became lovers.”
Then Gilda asked, “How did you find clients in those days? Besides term papers.”
“You’d be surprised how fast news like that gets around in a college. Within a month, I was the school, ah, let’s call it working girl.”
Gilda said, “I know all about that, it happened to me too at NYU. It wasn’t until I came back this year that I dedicated myself exclusively to the dominatrix trade. And it’s all professionally run. No more trysts in college men’s rooms.” After sipping more coffee, she asked, “That term paper that Paul wrote for you; what was it about?”
“It was a review of George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia. You know, the Spanish Civil War.”
“Did you get a good grade on it?”
The results still rankled Nora. “No, I got a damn ‘C.’ ” She hastened to add, “But I don’t think it was his fault. I read it, and he seemed to do a good job with it. You can never really know how a professor is going to react to something.”
“Okay, sweetie, think it over and give me a call next week. I think you are the right person for this job. Nora, you are very smart and articulate. Those are good qualities for a dominatrix to have.”
“Gilda, I was — well, scared back then although I was too dumb and yes, greedy to just stop.”
“You were taking some big risks, especially with the ones who came to the house in Maspeth. All hookers have to deal with anxiety, but with us, you’ll be much safer.”
“I know, I could have been killed and no one would know what had happened to me. Or I could be raped and the cops wouldn’t believe me.”
“That’s not going to happen with us, I assure you. If you accept the position, I will fill you in on more details about what to expect. Don’t worry, we are here to support you.”
Nora sat there quietly for a few moments. The position? Am I really getting back into this? Yet the conditions were much better than her earlier experiences had been. And the money — she couldn’t help but think about that. No more temp jobs in offices, or stints in fast food restaurants.
Was it Oscar Wilde who said, we can all be had for the right price? No, she had looked it up, and he had said, a cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.
Nora thought, is that what I have turned into?
Nora Has Her First Job
In mid-September, after I had accepted the dominatrix position offered by Gilda Wasserman, she met me in front of the building I would be using for the “sessions,” as she called them. I was surprised when she had told me these would happen in the basement of a loft building on West 27th Street.
My first client, a guy named Kevin, had already been lined up with me. When talking to Gilda on the phone, I mentioned that I had expected that I would meet him in an apartment.
She replied, “I’m sorry, I was thinking of what we do with our regular hookers.” She never mentioned “regular” prostitutes during her original pitch to me. Gilda giggled, “As you know, dominatrix work can get pretty noisy. Not every customer accepts it quietly, and the sound of a belt or cane on a bare male backside can be pretty intense. Thus the lower level of a loft building is ideal.”
I wondered if she had deliberately misled me. “You definitely used the word ‘apartment’ when you recruited me that day at the diner.” Less than a week had passed.
“But this place is an apartment, or rather it has been remade to look like one. It even has a kitchenette and a wet bar. It’s not just a bare space in the cellar.”
I tried a joke to hide my growing anxiety. “But no view, that’s for sure.”
Gilda said, “No view, that’s right. But Nora, come down and take a look at it. I think you’ll be impressed. You need to see it before you attempt a session there.”
I wondered if I could back out of the deal right then and there. “Okay, I’ll look at it at least.” I felt that visiting the place would give me some leverage if I really changed my mind.
Thus I went down there the next afternoon directly after a class uptown at City College. I arrived a bit early so I could look at the exterior of the place and get a feel for the neighborhood.
The building was one of the many twenty-story or so structures that had been built earlier in the century. Back in the 1970’s they were almost all still used as garment factories. It was just east of Eighth Avenue, and the red-brick buildings of Penn South Houses were on the west side.
There didn’t seem to be a doorman, which was a relief to me. I didn’t like the idea of someone keeping track of me or my customers. Of course, the doormen in the other buildings Gilda had mentioned would be paid to keep quiet about whatever was going on upstairs. I just didn’t want to be known as one of the whores who operated in a particular place.
Thus my first impression was positive; it seemed like the location offered a modicum of both privacy and safety.
Gilda came uptown from NYU and she unlocked a metal door at the far west corner of the building. We then went down a staircase and unlocked another door on the lower level. She flipped the lights on and I looked around my new, part-time workplace.
It was much larger than a standard New York apartment, by a factor of four at least. It had been revamped to have various amenities, including a small bar and cooking facilities near the base of the staircase. There were partitions to break it into rooms, but none of those sub-spaces had doors.
Various sofas and chairs furnished the room. The lighting was a bit subdued but it wasn’t really dark in there. Perhaps I would compare it to a nightclub rather than an apartment.
There were also several large wooden objects placed around on the floor. Gilda asked me, “Do you know what those are for?”
I had never seen anything like them, but I could guess their purpose. “I would say they’re spanking benches or trestles.”
“That’s right, there are two basic types. This kind is upright, and the most commonly used. A guy will be put over one of these with his behind sticking up, and he will either be restrained or not according to his preferences. Or maybe he has to be restrained because he won’t stay in place.” She took me to another kind, which was basically just a padded bench.
“A few of our clients like to be lying on these, face down. It’s the way it used to be done with judicial punishments in Russia and I think in China too.”
I asked her if they ever got any women who wanted to be punished. “A handful, but we only have other women do it to them. Some of them want to relive their intense experiences with their mommies or teachers.” She paused for a moment. “Would you accept an assignment like that?”
I didn’t want to commit myself to it during that orientation. “I’ve never actually done it to a female; I’d have to think about it.”
“That’s fine, don’t concern yourself with it now.” I was also relieved that I didn’t have an open-ended arrangement for that position; I had told Gilda that I planned to out of it by the time I graduated in about ten months. Supposedly I could turn down an assignment, but I hadn’t tested a refusal yet. I remembered the old days when everything was up to my own discretion.
She said, “So what do you think of this place? Not bad right?”
“I admit that I sort of like it. It reminds me a bit of a finished basement in a suburban house.” Of course, such houses usually did not have spanking benches. “It’s too big to be exactly cozy, however.”
“For what you’re going to be doing, maybe cozy is not that important. We do also rent it out to various — well, call them BSDM clubs.”
I thought I was fairly worldly, but I didn’t know much about those. Gilda must have noticed my confusion because she went on. “There are several kinds of those in New York. Some are quite vanilla, others are very hard-core, and of course, some specialize in gays.”
She pointed over to a wooden wall. “This slides back, and there is a dungeon space on the other side. It has different kinds of equipment, quite elaborate in fact. For example, there is a wooden wheel you can tie a person to, and then spin them around.”
That baffled me. “Why would anybody want to do that?”
“I don’t know, a few people get a kick from being upside down during their session. Suspending people from the ceiling is another gimmick that can be done back there.”
“That one I’ve heard of but I’ve never seen it.” Maybe I should have been grateful for that.
“Nora, you seem a little jittery today.”
I had been nervous back in 1973 and 1974 during my first go-round as an amateur hooker, but I hid it well under an attitude of brazenness. Now that I was older I knew better about what I was getting back into, and that seemed to get on my nerves.
I admitted the truth to her, “I’m surprised myself, because I used to be so bold, or at least I pretended to be that way with the customers.”
“That’s one of the reasons I had you come down here, so you could see the place first before having to do a session in it. It will seem more familiar to you and you can concentrate on the task at hand. Don’t worry, as I said before, we are here to support you.”
That was another aspect of it that bothered me. I didn’t yet know who “we” referred to and I doubted Gilda would tell me. When I had been an amateur hooker before, I had no one to answer to except myself. Now other people — unknown to me — would be keeping track of how I was performing.
I didn’t say it to Gilda, but I hoped that this second hooking era would be short enough that I could have the luck to stay beneath the radar of law enforcement. That included both the police and the IRS. I had never been arrested or in legal trouble, but that was mostly because the security at City College was so lax in those days.
Nowadays a student hooker would probably be snatched up within a few weeks, or maybe a few days, at most. I had been quite sloppy and inexperienced during that time, and I had solicited men right on campus, during the daytime.
You may be a part-timer, but this is like being in the major leagues now. Gilda looked so calm with her long dark hair, not like we were about to commit some crimes that could get us fined or put in jail.
I asked her, “When the client arrives, I guess I should meet him down here?” I was surprised that I had asked such a naïve question.
“Sure, that’s what you used to do in Maspeth, right? You didn’t stand out in the street, did you?” I did remember meeting Paul once in a nearby park. But that whole episode was a kind of lark, not actual business.
“Where can I talk to him on the phone?”
“Since you don’t have your own place yet, you can do that in Maspeth, or at the college newspaper office uptown. He can call you, depending on what’s convenient for him.”
“I don’t know if those places are so great for phone calls; the lack of privacy, you know.”
“You can use the phone down here. I’m going to give you the keys today.”
I said, “This is a bit out-of-the-way for me, I mean to just use the phone.”
“It’s not so bad. The E train stops a few blocks from here, or you can drive your car down and park it in a garage. And when you have your own place, that of course that will be available.”
I was still feeling fluttery, and I wished I had my bottle of Valium. However, it was back home in Maspeth. I used to take more of it to deal with the stresses of my freshman hooking year, but I didn’t need it as much since then.
Gilda could sense my emotions. “Nora, let’s sit down and have a drink. You seem to have the jitters, as I said. There is a whole bunch of items in the fridge. What would you like?”
I didn’t hesitate, “A vodka and tonic would be great.”
Soon Gilda and I were sitting on facing sofas with our drinks. I knew I was drinking mine a bit too fast. She said, “You can have another one if you like.”
“Let me see how his one goes down first. So this Kevin guy, what exactly does he want?”
“We talked briefly about that, but it’s best if you two discuss it directly. Nora, relax, you’re going to do fine.”
I nodded reflexively. Then I thought about the amount of money I was going to make in one evening, and that made me feel a bit better. I also remembered what the Roman writer Publilius Syrus had said: fortune is like glass — the brighter the glitter, the more easily broken. I kept that to myself and didn’t mention it to Gilda. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the opportunity she had offered me.
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The following evening I spoke to that Kevin guy. He didn’t tell me what his motives were, but he had a very specific discipline in mind. He requested that I use a tawse on him as he was bent over a spanking bench. That was no problem because there was a whole closet of implements to choose from down in the basement.
He wanted the first eight on the seat of his trousers, and then perhaps thirty more on his bared behind. The exact number would be determined when we knew how the punishment was proceeding. I of course would see the results while he would feel them.
I didn’t know the reasons for his requests, but I was used to having all sorts of preferences from my customers two years earlier. That I just chalked up to undergraduate weirdness, but it was obvious that older guys had some strange requests too. But BDSM is a very personal activity, and people have different fantasies they want to live out.
On the very next evening, I was waiting for Kevin in the basement room. It was discomforting to be in that large space all by myself. I had decided to go with the “strict business manager look;” I was wearing a dark gray suit, white blouse, nylon panty-hose, and heels. My glasses were in place; I thought I should be able to see what I was doing.. My dark-blonde hair was in its usual bob cut.
I thought I looked pretty good, very different from the slutty outfits I wore during my freshman year. I was using the name Nora Kimmel in my new career, and Kevin was going to call me Miss Kimmel.
The whole “slave” concept repelled me, and I didn’t want to be called “mistress.” Instead, I was merely a professional lady doing what I was paid to do, which was mainly to get men back on a straight path — or rather have them believe that was going to happen. Collecting the money was not my responsibility, however. Gilda took care of all the financial transactions ahead of time.
I was sitting on a couch having a big-glass of wine when the intercom rang and startled me. Being a nervous dominatrix would not go over well, so I stood up and tried to pull my emotions together. I had planned to be polite and not too loud, unlike the brazen and even nasty bitch persona I used to favor in the old days. I needed to get some experience with this new setting and then I could modify my dominatrix personality to fit these different, older clients.
The guy who came down the stairs was about thirty, and he was wearing a jacket and tie. He was pretty tall and good-looking too. You know that expression that a lady can tell within five minutes if she wants to fuck somebody?
Well, I had been going through a long, sexless summer that year, and I wanted to bang this Kevin person within the first ten seconds. Immediately I was getting pussy tingles, intense ones in fact. For a moment I was tempted to forget the whole punishment thing and start off just having a drink with him. Then, we would have a choice of several sofas we could use to copulate on. I don’t remember ever being that horny so quickly.
But I had a job to do that this guy had already paid for, and I tried to rein in my lust. I did get him a drink of his own, and we sat facing each other as we talked. We had few preliminary pleasantries, and he told me he was a broker in the financial district. So he has a good job as well as good looks. My pussy vibrated even more. It’s amazing how sudden and insistent lust can be.
I asked him, “So Kevin, what exactly is bothering you?” It struck me again how much politer I was compared to the earlier self of my freshman year.
He replied, “You see, Miss Kimmel, I have a girlfriend but I haven’t been faithful to her.” I had heard that complaint before from customers.
“So how many other ladies have you been with?”
“Only two so far, but that is two too many.”
“Are you having sexual relations with these other women right now?” I knew I had smiled when using the word “relations.”
“Yes I am, Miss Kimmel, I just can’t resist their seductive powers.” Where did he get that phrase from? I was reminded of the Sirens who had tried to lure Odysseus off-course. Also, his Miss Kimmel thing was starting to annoy me. Just call me Nora, okay? Or how about Calliope?
For a moment I lost my focus again, and I wondered what he thought of me and my appearance. Hey Kevin, how about I insert myself into your life as the fourth lady in the mix? Nothing really serious, but as you can see we have plenty of space right here to get into some passionate screwing — right now if you wish.
That would be completely inappropriate, so I said instead, “I see. So you think that a firm tawsing on your rear-end would help straighten out your attitude?” I felt like I was talking in somebody else’s voice
“Yes, I’m sure that would put me back on the right path.” That sounded weirdly formal. He didn’t sound like he was using his normal tone of voice either.
I already had the tawse I was going to use on him. It was on the sofa next to me. I picked it up and showed it to him. It was a thick leather belt that was divided into two tongues, I’d call them, on the business end.
“Have you ever been struck by one of these?”
“No, Miss, I never have.” Then why did he choose it? I knew from previous experiences that their reasons for punishment were usually pretexts. What excited those clients, what made them pay for it, was the idea of a powerful woman imposing her will on them.
“It’s going to hurt, you are aware of that right? I mean, it’s made of thick leather”
“Yes, Miss Kimmel, I already knew that.”
I confirmed his request. “So it’s eight on the seat of your pants, and an unspecified number on your exposed buttocks, am I correct?” I was very eager to see said buttocks.
“That’s right, I think that will work.” Actually, it won’t work, assuming you haven’t just made up the details about those three women.
“You’ve seen a spanking bench before?”
“I certainly have experienced discipline on them previously, but it was with a regular pants belt.” So he wasn’t a newbie at floggings in general. A regular belt could sting quite a bit too.
“Then place yourself over this one. You must know how to position yourself.”
He certainly did know what to do. The bench was of a trestle type. Kevin placed himself over it and gripped the support bars going down in the front. His behind was the highest part of his body, and it pushed against his tight gray trousers.
When I stood up, I could feel myself getting damp between my legs. A nice set of taut male glutes, I thought. I felt the sexual arousal that often came before, during, and after I had punished a wayward man. But this time it was the guy himself, not merely the discipline I was going to inflict on him, that was also making me horny.
If they had requested it, I had brought a few clients to a climax afterwards with my hands and even my mouth at times. Those actions had always had an extra charge, of course. That night I knew Kevin hadn’t made any special requests beforehand, so I thought it best to play it cool for my first dominant gig since 1974. Yet I thought about how my hands and my lips would feel on his cock.
I stepped forward and dared rub both of his cheeks first. I admit, his ass was firm and tight under the cloth of his trousers. I wondered if he was getting an erection. Almost any guy would have one with what I was doing.
Then I swung the tawse through the air a couple of times so that he could hear the swishing noise it made. I lightly tapped his ass with my belt, then I brought it down across his gray-clad backside. He grunted and twitched at the impact.
It also brought out a statement from him. “Miss Kimmel, I need to be severely disciplined for my transgressions. Please show no mercy on me.”
I was often impressed with the, well, nonsense these guys came up with before and during their beatings. I kept my voice as calm and level as possible; I didn’t use the snarkiness that had often been one of my techniques.
“Don’t have any doubts, Kevin. You’ve been a very bad boy and you really need to be taught a lesson. A sound beating as you asked for should do it.”
Did I really say something that silly? It used to be so easy to make up those lines on the fly. And the clients loved a verbal dressing-down from me.
I continued, “Are you ready to take the next ones?”
“Yes, Miss Kimmel, please whip my sinful ass with your relentless tawse.”
I briefly smiled; such purple prose about a simple spanking. We had agreed to a safe phrase earlier, dill pickles, but I doubted he would use it.
“Okay, the second stroke then.” I swiped him, in the opposite direction, across the seat of his pants with my belt. That one was forceful enough that he yelped something in pain. The noise echoed in the big room. He didn’t move much, however.
I was never the kind of dominatrix who made a big deal about the movements or the voices of my clients. If they could take the beating reasonably well, then that was enough for me.
The next six weren’t too fast but they were definitely hard ones. During those Kevin tried to push his hips forward to avoid my implacable leather belt. The cloth of his trousers were dented by each stroke
When I had finished that segment, he collapsed back down on the bench and he was breathing heavily. That guy was getting his money’s worth. I picked up my wine glass and drank from it, both to steady my nerves and to give myself something to think about besides sex during the interim period..
My throat felt tight, and I was getting more tingles in my cunt. Nora, you haven’t changed; you’ve still quite a perverse chick. I had known for a long time that I had a sexually sadistic side that would come out during those beatings. But the feelings during that session were beyond any of my earlier experiences.
I decided on something. “Kevin, I think it’s best during the bare behind portion of this that we restrain your hands by fixing them to the wooden bars.” The bench already had leather restraints attached at the correct locations. I had the option of tying his legs down too, but I guessed that wasn’t going to be necessary. I had spanked enough guys earlier in my career that I could assess how they were doing and how they might react.
He was still gasping a bit, but he objected. “Miss Kimmel, haven’t I taken my lesson like a man? I’m not a coward.”
I was surprisingly gentle with him. “It’s not a matter of cowardice, it’s what is reasonable for the situation.” I don’t know if that made any sense, but he accepted my argument.
“Okay, get up, drop your trousers and your underwear and get back over the bench.” I had never heard the term “female gaze” before, but if there was such a thing, I had it now
I first moved forward to tie his hands down. Our eyes didn’t meet; that was common before and during such discipline. Maybe both parties needed to maintain some emotional distance from each other during those proceedings.
Except, I didn’t seem to be maintaining that distance at that point. I moved back and looked at his hindquarters; I noted how muscular and well-formed his rear end was. The eight blows through the pants had left stripes across his body. “Your trousers didn’t give you much protection during that part of the session.”
His voice seemed a bit calmer, “I didn’t expect that they would.”
For the first time ever, I felt sorry for one of my dominated clients. In my first year with that, I had hand-spanked or swung my implements enthusiastically onto naughty backsides. There was a joy that came from hearing those guys yell and seeing them squirm as I thrashed the rears of undergraduates who probably had contempt for me. There I was, a freshman whore, and I felt like a goddess as I meted out my punishments to those pathetic twerps.
But that time I found that I liked this Kevin person I just met. He has polite and he was quite cute too. His ass looked so vulnerable as he lay tied there, waiting for me to whip his pale flesh, and I felt regret about having to hurt him with my belt.
His balls were clearly visible then. I couldn’t quite see if he had an erection, but I suspected he did. For a second I considered asking Kevin out for a date when we were done with the action down there. Well, maybe he would need a few days to recover. But I had only gone out with a client once, my first boyfriend Paul, and I hadn’t planned on doing that again.
I pulled myself together and remembered that Kevin had paid for his beating, it satisfied some need in him, and I had to be a professional and do what he had asked for. But I also I felt something like pity for my client. Maybe I had changed more than I had realized in the last two years.
For a moment, I considered giving him a hand spanking before getting back to the tawse. However, I doubted my ability to control myself. I felt that I was on a verge, and if I put my hands on his backside, I’d be grabbing his cock next and…
Come on Nora, get a hold of yourself, do the work you were supposed to do. I stood next to him and tapped him with the tawse. I said, “They used to give guys in the British Isles thirty-six strokes with this.”
I remembered a detail that I couldn’t confirm, but I mentioned it anyway. “They used to have a smooth stone outside onto which the victims could press their blazing buttocks and cool it off. As you can see, we don’t have any such a stone here.”
“I know Miss Kimmel, but please hit me as hard as you can.” Yet I felt both sorrow and lust as I looked at his buttocks and thighs exposed to my soon-to-be flailing tawse.
“All right, if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.” However, when I resumed my beating of him, I didn’t use maximum force.
Kevin must have noticed my tactic, because he called out, “Give it to me harder, Miss Kimmel; I’ve been such a bad boy.”
I almost giggled at his phrasing, but I soon saw the effect my leather tool was having on him. The noise of each impact was echoing in the room. After twenty strokes on his bare backside, his flesh was turning bright red and a few purple bruises were appearing within those areas. He was also groaning loudly each time I hit him.
After some more strokes, I said, “Kevin, I think that you’ve had more than enough to learn your lesson.”
He was gasping for breath again. “But I was supposed to get a full thirty-six, Miss Kimmel.” I had lost count, but I had probably given him nearly thirty on his behind.
I decided to rely on my old expertise as a dominatrix. He was paying for it, but it would be painful for him to sit down with what I had already done to him.
“I’ve done this many times before, and I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.” In the old days, I had sometimes given them more than they had asked for. My attitude back then had been, fuck them, they’re already in position, let them take it. This time I threw the belt on the floor and I moved forward again to untie his hands.
He didn’t make any further complaints about ending the session a little early. Maybe he was really hurting more than he had expected. Or perhaps he really did respect my authority about what to do.
“All right, it’s corner time, or let’s just call it wall time. You think you can get up?”
He didn’t respond but he tried to get off the bench. It was obvious that he was having some trouble with that, so I took him by the arm to help him. That was beyond the call of duty for a dominatrix, but it had been a harsh beating.
Kevin was a bit unsteady on his feet as he shuffled over to the wall with his pants down. It wasn’t even necessary to tell him to put his hands on his head; he did it without being told to. That guy has been punished before; he knew the drill. Then I saw that he had a huge erection sticking out towards the wall.
I had seen that many times two years earlier, but his boner was truly exciting me now. That could be in your mouth, or God help you, in your cunt in an instant. Nora, don’t look at him or his big cock. As I turned my head in the other direction, I could feel fluids coming out of me and dampening my panties and pantyhose.
I saw that my wine glass was almost empty, so I went to get a bottle to refill it. When I sat down again I was feeling rather jangled. In the old days — just two years earlier — such BSDM activities were more like games, undergraduate hi-jinks.
That evening seemed more adult, more serious. For one thing, I usually spanked the guys with my hands. There were occasional paddles, belts, and hairbrushes as I had used on my old boyfriend Paul. What I had done to Kevin was more intense. Possibly subconsciously I felt being more “professional” meant inflicting more damage on the clients. Meanwhile, he just stood there quietly.
I had an aching need to masturbate as soon as possible. I also wanted him out of the room if I wasn’t going to ball him in there. But I couldn’t just rush him out; that would seem unprofessional. Just to have something to say, I commented, “Your ass is really a mess.”
Without turning around, he replied, “That’s the way I wanted it.”
“So you’ve never been struck with a tawse?”
“I said with belts, like pants belts.” I was so frazzled that I had forgotten that he had already told me. “But never a tawse before.”
“The one I used today was longer and heavier than some other ones we have around here.”
“Why did you use it?”
“I’m not sure.” I think I did know. Never having swung a tawse on someone before, I perhaps wanted to prove something to myself by using the biggest one I could get. I didn’t want to tell him that however, and we lapsed into an awkward silence.
I changed my mind and decided it was acceptable to have him leave at that point. “Kevin, we’re done here. You can go now.” He pulled his pants up and went to get his suit jacket. Then he looked at me as if we were going to say goodbye perhaps. I think he thought I was attractive and he was reluctant to leave.
I refused to look him in the eye, and then when he continued to stare at me I made a little flicking motion with my hand to signal that he should depart. I felt like yelling, for God’s sake, either fuck me or get out of here and let me jerk-off in peace.
He looked forlorn for a moment, and then he turned and trudged up the stairs. I got up and locked the door behind him.
For a moment I wished I was in one of the familiar rooms at my house in Maspeth. I knew that I would want to masturbate there too, but it had never felt as urgent as it did in that basement
I was wearing pantyhose, not straps and garters as I often did when hooking, so I had to take everything off: stockings, panties, and shoes. Then I took a dildo out of my bag, a new one I had recently purchased. It was one of those rubber ones that is shaped like a human penis, a quite large one in fact.
I especially liked the way the glans at the end rubbed my cunt and clitoris. I leaned back on the couch and pushed it into myself. It felt absolutely delightful in my wet and swollen pussy. I wondered what Kevin would think if he had known how aroused I had gotten during his beating.
On my sofa, had my way with myself. My fantasy was that I was getting nailed right there on the couch by my now departed customer. It only took me a few minutes to have an intense orgasm, and I yelled as loudly as I wanted. Then I rested for a moment, and I did it twice more. I can be quite an orgasmic lady with the right stimuli.
As I relaxed I tried to remind myself never to develop an attachment to any john, no matter what good qualities he might seem to possess. That had rarely been an issue before that evening. Why was it different that time?
The spanking room was very quiet. I felt an expected emotion: loneliness. The previous summer I had broken up with my boyfriend, the one who had replaced Greg with the Triumph Stag. Greg in turn had replaced my first real lover (of only four months!) Paul.
For a second I considered calling Kevin in a couple of days. Hey, it’s me, Nora, your friendly neighborhood dominatrix, only my real last name is Meara, not Kimmel. How about we meet for a few drinks. I was wondering how your sore backside is doing? Do you have to sit on a pillow now?
I tried to convince myself that it was all a fantasy; I never dated customers, except for Paul back in 1974. Perhaps he was the exception who had proved the rule. However, I thought that Kevin wouldn’t mind much if I called him in a few days and made a play for him.
But Gilda: she’s be shitting bricks if she found out I was having affairs with clients. But how would she know? Those guys wouldn’t drop a dime on me, would they?
The big room I was in bothered me. A little while ago it was echoing with the sound of leather striking bare male hindquarters. Now I couldn’t abide the silence in that place, so I quickly got dressed and put the tawse back in the closet. My panties were so damp that I just stuffed them into my purse.
I wondered if in the future I should play some kind of music over the sound system during sessions. I certainly had a large selection of albums at home to chose form. Probably I would have to ask the clients before hand what, if anything, they wished to hear. It was a bit difficult to imagine what they would pick, but I supposed some would have suggestions about what they would like.
Once I had reveled in being a mean, self-righteous bitch before, during, and after my domination of a guy. Now some kind of sadness took hold of me.
Maybe I didn’t have the right stuff for it anymore, maybe I had changed and I couldn’t maintain that old emotional control. But that would be a sign of maturity, would it not? But man, that was only my first assignment, and already I felt like I was falling apart.
It was only a little after 8:00 PM, but I had no desire to take the subway and then the bus back to Maspeth. In the old days, I would have cash from the client in my purse, but as a pro I was paid separately. I already knew that, so I had money with me for a taxi.
Kevin had walked out just when I really needed a good solid fucking. I might have even gone for dinner and drinks with him afterwards if I had been invited. But what would we have talked about? That old sense of shame from two years earlier was coming back.
In any case, it sure is hard to flirt with a guy when you are whacking his ass with a belt.
Just before I turned the lights out and went up the stairs, I looked back at my new workplace. I should call this room The Spank-o-torium. That seemed pretty funny and it lightened my mood a bit. But that nickname, like my reaction to Kevin, was not something I could tell Gilda about.
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Nora’s description of her experiences in 1973-74 is in Freshman Hooker.