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Bondage and Submission Fantasies
I am pleasantly suprised to see you waiting for me as I exit the International Terminal at LAX. I am drunk from the celebrating I have done on the flight from London after successfully launching the company’s European IPO. “Since when does the CEO pick up the
General Counsel from the airport ?” I ask playfully. “He does when he hasn’t seen her for a week”, you answer, kissing my eyelids and neck as you help me into your Black Ferrari.
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I helped you build your company from a small entertainment-industry player to a powerful multinational over the course of five years. During that time we developed a not so clandestine romantic relationship marked by passionate fights and passionate making up.
I am brilliant, beautiful and every bit as arrogant as you. Fiercely competitve and a bit of
a brat, I don’t easily accept not getting my way. Our relationship is intense, complex and at times combative and characterized by dom / sub reversals.
I am about 5’3″ and slim but curvy. I keep in shape by working out in the martial arts dojo you fashioned in the basement of our Hollywood Hills mansion. Usually our workouts leave us exhausted, in the jaccuzzi or in bed, tenderly kissing the bruises we sometimes inflict on each other.
As you drive home from the airport, with the top down, I relax in the heated seat with my eyes closed. You drive with one hand while running the fingers of the other hand through my long blond hair, then down my neck to the plunging neckline of my white silk blouse, over my ample breasts and then along the inseam of my tight, tailored navy blue trousers. You tease me, tracing the crotch seam with your index finger while thinking that the Milanese tailor, who makes your suits, had done you a favor when he made these very form fitting pants for me
during our last trip to Italy.
A long, winding driveway leads to our home, which is set far back from the road. As we approach the driveway, you reach into your jacket pocket and hand me a box. I open the box and smile when I see the 18K white gold, diamond-encrusted Cartier watch. “I wanted to get you something to show my appreciation for all that you’ve given me.” You hestitate,
uncharacteristically a little nervous. ” I also wanted to say I’m sorry…for the Board”.
My eyes open wide and I sit bolt upright. “Apologize !? For what” ?
“The board voted today…I recommended that you receive the $500K bonus we discussed but
they cut it by 1/3. You, yourself said that now that we are publicly traded we need to be responsive to the shareholders; its all about fiscal austerity”.
As the car enters the driveway I grab the key and abruptly switch off the ignition, while
the car is still in second gear, sending the delicate engine into spasms. “What the hell?” you stammer.
Before you can finish the sentence I fling open the car door and am standing in front of the
Ferrari. You begin to exit the car. I yell “I built this company! I busted my ass for you and that damn Board! Where was the board and its austerity program when the shareholders bought you this?” I point to the car and glare at you in a way that makes you prefer a kick to the balls to what happens next.
Suddenly, I raise my leg in a roundhouse kick and bring the spiked heel of my Manolo Blanik boot down onto the hood with a crash. You stand there in a state of suspened animation. Movement slows down. Oddly, your gaze shifts from my bottom and the straining rear seam of my tight slacks to the hood of your car and back again as kick after kick rains down metal crunching blows.
A loud Rrrippp snaps you out of your fugue state as you lunge for me. You realize that the last furious kick has split my trousers from the center of my heart-shaped butt to the place where my zipper meets my still damp crotch. You stare in amazement, a smile covering your face, as I feel the chill December air and attempt to hide my pink satin panties from the group of landscapers who have stopped working on our property and have gathered at the top of the driveway in response to the commotion.
Mortified, I attempt to half shuffle, half run up the long driveway toward the house. I pass the parade of landscapers. You follow after me; half aroused and half angry for my tantrum. Still drunk, I stumble in my 3 inch heels, dropping my purse and displaying my pink panties as I put may hands in front of me to break my fall. As I get to my feet and collect
my Gucci bag, a chorus of wolf whistles errupts from the landscapers. Normally, you would flatten any one or all of them for disrespecting your wife but today you repeat their catcalls in my ear as you press your crotch against the split, shielding me from their view and ushering me into the house.
I’d love to read any additions to the story that anyone wants to write.
As soon as the door closes behind you, you push me roughly towards our quarters. I want to resist and enraged I spin around trying to hit you with my small but purposeful hand. You catch it with no effort and use my lack of balance to bring me against your chest.
“Your ass is mine, Lady” you tell me. No yelling, just a decided look with a glimmer of fun in it.
“I hate you!” was my quick answer, my reaction was just not fast enough for the sharp spank you provided…
Holding my arm, you still direct me to our bedroom and I don’t resist. Because of your strenght, I have to choose my fights with you.
We finaly, get there and I drop my bag and luggages on the floor. You close the door and let me be while you take off your vest. We are still too close for confort, so I leave your side, take of my pant and look for a confortable outfit I can wear at home. Without a look at your form, still against the door frame, I announce that I am going to take a shower.
I do still hate him, hate the board members, hate my life. I can’t tolerate to lose, it is what helped me in business, and even though his responsability in the matter is mitigated, he is the only one I can blame right now. Beeing under the hot stream of water help me loosen my tense muscles and put the whole ordeal in perspective. I’ll fight the decision but in the business world, the right way. Now, I need to apologize to HIM.
As soon as I stop the water and try to reach for a towel I feel his hand reaching out and getting me out. I am a bit surprised and hold him for support.
“What?” I barely start that he is picking me up in his arms and sit us on the side of the bed.
I am holding you for dear life and think about making out but again you swiftly turn me on my tummy and I realise too late that I am in the indignified position of the girl who will be getting a spanking…
I roar and push on my toned arms to raise myself. I can’t think straight and a new series of expletives leave my mouth to let you know what I think of you at the moment. You fight me for a few seconds, enough so you can grab my far hand and hold it firmly behind my back while locking one of my leg.
“Honey, you do realise that your spanking is going to hurt more now that you are wet, aren’t you?” he finaly says.
“No, please, let me go” I beg. I hate begging but I also realise that if I do it now, I have a slight chance of getting of without too much dents to my pride. If I let (like I have a choice) the spanking get on a roll, I’ll be a shameful mess at the end of it, I might even be heard by the landscapers and I don’t want this to happen under any circumstances. I add fearfuly “I am sorry, for true, I just was understandably upset, come on baby, please?”
The sting was unbelievable and with a renewed energy I thought to get of his lap. He locked my legs between his strong muscular tighs. I beg him to stop and reconsider but he is dead set on seeing marks on my shapely butt.
I know he loves spanking me and marking me but I really don’t believe I can take more of this. He was right, I am dry now but the wetness of my skin did add extra jolt to his firm spanks.
He had the paddle handy and within few moments I feel it fall squarely on both my reddened cheeks. I squeel and try to not yell. I hope that maybe if I don’t give him the satisfaction to cry, he’ll stop soon… Now, he is slowly caressing my skin, following the darker shade made by the paddle. He raises his hands and continue on relentless. Spank, spank, ow, spank… By the tenth blow I am crying, by the 20th I am spent and flop on his knee. All resistence had left my body and he still spanks me. My hiccups are loud and my bottom ablaze, he is hitting me with longer intervals between the contact moments but still too regularly for my abuse backside. And then he stopped. I did not realised it right away but he did.
I could feel my ass puffy with ripples of skin raised in odd places, the spanking had for few hours altered the purety of what was before and I lay content to not have to seat on it or raise and actually use any of the adjacent muscles.
It took more than ten minutes to calm myself and he wouldn’t touch my inflammed buttocks but now, in the silence, he decided of his next course of action and as soon as he grabbed them roughly to spread them, i knew i was in for another painful treat.
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