Smacks

My Keyholder came over last night. I hadn't seen her in a few days, so it was very good to see her indeed. I thought a quiet evening at home was to unfold. Little did I know what she had in store for me.

She sat on the sofa and told me to come lay across her lap. I obeyed instantly (I'm far beyond questioning or hesitating, I hope). She then proceeded to spank me, barehanded. It wasn't for anything I'd done, or not done. It was just because she could, and she wanted to, which made it all the hotter.

I hadn't had any corporal punishment in a while, and I was tender. Even her hand got my attention. She then had me get up and get the hairbrush, a heavy, wooden affair. This she used to great effect, turning my bottom red. I tried, really tried to stay in position, to not squirm, and was successful for the most part. Then, she had me fetch the cane. Not the rattan cane, either, but the black one made of springy – rubber? plastic? painodioum? Whatever it's made from, it hurts. A lot. She caned me as I counted out the strokes. Fifty plus, combined from the hairbrush and the cane. I was gripping the pillows, breathing hard, sweating. It didn't bring me to tears, but I was close.

But she wasn't done. "Bring me the eagle claws," she said. I gulped. What these are, you see, are little nipple clamp devices, but with a sharp wire "claw" that retracts as it closes. It hurts. A lot. Blindingly so. She put them on as I stared, dazed now, into her eyes, and she had me take the pain. Again, not because I'd done anything wrong, but because I was hers, and this is how she wanted to use me. She cooed into my ear that I might get to come if I was good. I tried to be good, though I know she says this a lot and doesn't allow it often. She caned me some more, I think, with the claws digging into my sensitive nipples. To be honest, I don't remember much after that; it all gets hazy. I do know she took them off (hurts more taking it off, of course), and had me get to the bedroom.

There, I pleasured her. She used my (her) cock to her satisfaction, then had me lay at her side while she brought herself to completion, all the while I pumped uselessly into the side of her leg and begged, a little. When she was satisfied, she had me clean up, and we went about the rest of our night.

This morning, she caned me again – just 10 maintenance strokes with the thicker rattan cane. As I sit and write this, I am conscious of every movement. My bottom – raw and warm. The shirt rubbing against my sore nipples – a reminder of her dominion over me. Thus is the life of a chastity slave.