After Hanna left, I sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an arduous session for me, but I knew it had been an even tougher one for her. I looked down at myself and realised the mess I was in. My shirt was damp from her tears and streaked with black eye makeup. There was a large wet stain across the front of my trousers, and I could smell her all over me. I needed a shower.
I got up and left the room I usually refer to as ‘my office’ and went upstairs to my apartment. In the bathroom I stripped off and threw my soiled clothes in the basket and stepped under the shower. Mrs. Jacobs could deal with the laundry when she came in. She had worked for me for years. I’m not sure what she thought I got up to, but she was always discrete. I’m sure the state of my clothes would come as no surprise. I made a mental note to add a little bonus to her wage packet.
After my shower I wandered around, selecting something new to wear. Not having any more appointments that day I decided on a simple shorts and T-shirt mix. The weather was too hot for anything else. After an hour I wandered back downstairs. The office was a bit of a mess with clothes pegs scattered all over and there was still a wet sheen on the floor. A black butt plug sat, shining and accusingly on my desk. I grabbed a mop and bucket and cleaned the floor, picking up pegs as I went. I could only find eight and wondered where the other had gone. I mentally shrugged and decided that their day was done and that I needed some better equipment. I carefully washed the plug, cleaning it free from all traces of lube.
I finally sat down and switched on my laptop. I spent the rest of the afternoon making calls and searching the internet for various items. I arranged for my usual repair person to come around and set up a microphone and loudspeaker system linking me to the landing outside. I found a website that sold the items I wanted and ordered several sets of the shining butterfly clamps, some paired with a chain linking them and others as single items. I’d wanted them for ages but had never got around to getting them. I began to devise ways to use them, picturing the pained expression on Hanna’s face as I mentally attached them here and there on her willing body.
Billy the repair person came the next day and installed the speaker system. He was in and out in about an hour and it seemed to work fine. At my end was a small microphone on a stand that could be hidden in a drawer. The speaker outside was discretely mounted next to the camera. I thanked him and paid him well.
The rest of the week was quiet. At that time, I had two other clients. One was young, about the same age as Hanna and came of her own volition. She had simple needs that were easy to fulfil. All I had to do was give her a thorough over the knee spanking and let her call me daddy. I have never studied psychology but even I could work out what was going on with her. She was a strange young woman and always dressed demurely. I had never seen her naked apart from her bottom. She would simply drape herself over my knee and I would lift up her skirt, pull down her panties, and begin. She hardly said a word apart from the occasional “thank you, daddy.” She was never willing to have any lengthy conversation, either before or after and I knew little about her. Nevertheless, I enjoyed our sessions, relishing the feeling of her flesh under my hand although it left my hand stinging for a few hours afterwards. She always left with a bright pink bottom and a smile on her face. She also paid well.
My second client could not have been more different. Much older to begin with, possibly older than me, she was always very elegantly dressed. She would phone me, usually once a week, in her rather stern telephone voice, to make an appointment. She had a story about how her husband made her come to me, but I was doubtful. She always brought with her a handwritten note stating why she needed to be punished. Unlike my other client she insisted on being naked. As she undressed, she changed from the assertive woman who had just come in, to the cowed and timid submissive which was the role she chose to play. For her age she was a fine figure of a woman, with small and still quite pert breasts. I made her stand in front of the desk as I slowly read the note. I knew it was all a game and I wasn’t even sure she was married but I went along with it. It was usually some trivial domestic matter such as burning the Sunday joint or committing a faux pas when dining with friends.
We then had to discuss what she thought would be a suitable punishment. After having tried all my devices the flogger had become her firm favourite. Usually, I would go along with her choice although occasionally I would assert my authority and choose for her. I knew she hated the single tailed whip, and I often chose that just to see the expression on her face when I told her. This time she again chose the flogger and I agreed, much to her relief. She then chose which part of her was to be punished depending on the severity of her misdemeanour. This week she chose breasts, but I said no, having read the note, it was to be her cunt. She looked shocked and horrified and tears filled her eyes, but she simply bowed her head and muttered, “yes, Sir.”
I carefully and deliberately cleared my desk, putting the laptop and all but the flogger into drawers before I stood up. She knew the routine and slowly and reluctantly she lay back on the desk, lifted her legs and splayed her knees wide, using her hands to hold them steady. She already knew that things would get worse if she flinched and closed them. I stood to one side and brought the flogger down twice on each breast. It was unexpected and she gasped with surprise and shock. Two more to her belly which made her cry out and then I walked further round the desk to admire the view.
Her cunt was already wet and gleaming. I gave a sharp blow to the inside of each thigh and then without pausing, a sharp smack of the flogger on her vulnerable cunt. Her knees twitched slightly but stayed open. She was sobbing quietly. I gave her another hit, but she remained stoical, accepting her fate. Two more strikes followed, and her sobbing grew louder. I admired her courage as I had not been gentle with her. I gave her a final and forceful hit and stood back.
“You may stand up now,” I told her as I walked back to my chair.
It was a painful and slow process but eventually she stood before me, her face a picture of misery.
“Not so prim and proper now, are you,” I said sarcastically, “let’s hope you have learned your lesson and will be more attentive to your husband’s needs.”
It was important to her that she play the role of the subservient wife and I was happy to go along with it.
“I will, Sir, and thank you for teaching me.”
I dismissed her and she dressed quickly but with care. She looked immaculate once more as she always did when she left although she walked a little awkwardly.