Friday, January 1, 2016


I've said that Isabel is my girlfriend, but I need to begin to admit to myself that this isn't a traditional boyfriend-girlfriend relationship.

We're together. This is really obvious. But it is an open relationship where she can have girlfriends, have sex with girls and be with them in addition to me.

Lots of people have that arrangement. If I was bisexual, I could have relationships with guys, but since I am not, I just don't have the same options as she does.

So... I am monogamous. She isn't. I suppose that bothers me some, but there is nothing I can do about it.

I am fooling myself. Trying to justify what is going on. I am her fucking servant. Her slave. Thing is, I have come to realize I like it. I like being her slave, being dominated and controlled. Why else would I keep coming back, keep doing what she says, keep taking the abuse she heaps on me? Why else would I have a hard cock constantly when she is fucking abusing me?

She keeps me under her thumb, and punishes me if she doesn't like what I do. She punished me after that debacle where I got upset with her for having sex with my ex girlfriend Val while I was hanging from the ceiling watching.

So the punishment for that, it happened the next day. I knew something was coming, she had more or less said so.

Work was so stressful, I was worried the entire day. I didn't like the way she had treated me, but then when I had spoken up she lost her temper and I backed down. I feel like a wimpy idiot, which maybe I am. See, I knew she was going to punish me last night, the night after the debacle, and I just went in anyway to take my medicine. Because I don't know what I would do without her.

I arrived right at 6:00, just as she said. No reason to piss her off more. Though when she opened the door she didn't seem pissed off at all; she hugged me and kissed me just like always. The only thing really different was she was wearing all black.

Now, you have to understand, Isabel is fantastic looking, and I think she looks best in black. It makes her look hard. Incredibly sexy, and very elegant, and very hard. Which... well, she is hard if you cross her at all. She scares the shit out of most people I know, including me.

So we sat down on her patio, which is amazing and has a beautiful view of the canyon. I fixed drinks for us, made mine a double since I figured I would need it.

She talked about her day some, I told her some of the troubles I was having at work.

Then she broached the subject.

"I've been thinking about what might be an appropriate consequence for the way you talked to me last night," she said causally.

I tensed. Here it comes.

"I've never really punished you before, but this seems like something that calls for it. You were rude and offensive, and questioned me in a very insolent manner." She was talking casually, almost sweetly, but her words were scary.

"I wouldn't say that, Bel. I think you've punished me before. I mean, what do you call putting me in chastity for six weeks?"

Isabel smiled, and put her drink down. "It was five weeks, and it wasn't punishment. It was... shall we call it training. A guarantee. A helping hand. You needed that to stay faithful."

I thought it was a damn severe punishment, but there was no point arguing.

"In any case," she went on, "I think it is time to introduce formal punishment. Oh, don't look so shocked. All girls do it. Every one of them. They just don't admit it. They withhold sex, they burn dinner, they pout, throw tantrums, demand gifts, slap you, hide the remote control. I am just a little more honest about it. Up front and direct. I think it's better that way, don't you?"

"I guess." She had a point, though I wasn't totally convinced. It didn't matter.

"Come with me," she said. I followed her into her spare room, the dungeon as I like to call it.

"Remove your clothes." She stated this, not as a command, but more like a reminder, or comment.

I took off my clothes and folded them neatly, something I had gotten used to doing in Isabel's house.

"I see you have that marvelous erection you are so proud of. Pretty constant around me," she purred, sliding up next to me and holding it in her hand for a moment. I felt contractions inside whens she touched me. Isabel is an orgasm waiting to happen.

"Let me introduce you to this piece of furniture." She led me over to a weird thing that looked like a flat bench or saw horse. It was innocuous enough, and it was padded. There were some eye bolts in various places on it.

"This is a whipping and caning bench. We will be using it tonight."

"Hey, wait a minute, Isabel. I am not sure I want to do that." I protested.

Isabel patiently explained as if talking to a child. "It isn't about what you want, Marc. This is the consequence for your extreme rudeness in front of my lover last night."

(She meant my ex-girlfriend, Val, her lover.)

She pointed to the bench. "Now, kneel here, and then lay your body across here. Trust me, this is actually for your own good, it makes the whole process go much easier and smoother."

"I really don't think this is necessary, Isabel. I don't think I was that far off base--" I might have been protesting but I was complying with her demand as if I had no self will.

"Yes, I get that you have not completely understood your transgression. This is one reason we are going to do this. You have a lesson to learn."

I was kneeling, and lay on top of the bench. Isabel strapped my legs in, and then took my wrists and strapped them in place in the front of the bench. I could still move around a lot, though.

That was fixed when she applied the last strap, which went over my back right at my waist. With that in place, I was basically immobile. That was the point I guess.

My cock was still rock hard and throbbing and if I wriggled just right I could push it up against the bench. Sort of like humping the bench.

Isabel came around to the front of the bench, where I could see here. She looked so amazing in her black outfit; it made me want to be her slave. In my heart I was getting close to begging her to hurt me, which may seem weird but it was happening. I didn't let it out though. I wasn't going to let her see that from me.

She had a cane. I had never seen one before. Well, I had seen canes, like the ones people walk with, but this wasn't the same. It was thin, made of a wood sort of like bamboo, and flexible. The word "switch" came to mind, the old thing they used to do with unruly children back 100 years ago; spank them with a switch.

Isabel flexed the cane, and held it out to me. "Kiss the cane."

Whaaaaa.... she wanted me to kiss the cane. This was getting more bizarre by the second, but OK. I pushed my face forward and kissed the cane.

Isabel then moved behind me, while I lay there, strapped down and helpless, waiting for her to start spanking.

I didn't have to wait long. The first strike was a sock. It sliced along my ass like a knife, except a dull knife that hurt a lot worse. I yelled, completely taken by surprise.

"AAAAHHHH! Fuck, Isabel, that really fucking hurts!"

"Yes, Marc, it's supposed to."

Thwack! A second stroke on my ass. I screamed. It didn't just sting, it was like a tiny strip of fire across my flesh.

Thwack! A third stroke. This time I didn't scream, I just grunted and yelped a little. The fire on my ass was spreading. I was bleeding, for sure, I thought.

Thwack! No more screams, but crying. Not sobbing but tears running out of my eyes. The pain was spreading beyond where the strokes were landing, covering my entire ass.

Thwack! I jerked against the restraints, trying to get out. I knew I couldn't but wasn't thinking rationally at that point. I just couldn't lay there and take it.

Thwack!  "Holy Fucking Fucker of Fuck!" I yelled, "Please, Isabel, I'm sorry, please don't damage me!"

I figured my ass was shredded flesh by now.

Well, she stopped at that point.

"A half dozen strokes is enough for now, I think. I will let you rest there a moment to recover. Kiss the instrument of your punishment."

She held out the cane for me to kiss again. There was no fucking way I was going to kiss that thing.

"Kiss the cane, Marc."

No. Fucking. Way.

She moved out of sight.

Thwack! Another stroke hit my ass, unexpectedly, and I yelled again. New tears welled up.

She appeared in front of me again, holding out the cane. "Kiss the cane, Marc."

I kissed the cane.

She left me tied up there on that thing for another 15 minutes while she went off somewhere else in the house. I just lay there with my ass on fire, feeling every bit of the pain. It faded slowly, and when she came back it was feeling some better.

"I think you are probably feeling a bit better. Let's fuck, shall we? In celebration of your first caning?

Talk about mixed feelings. Fucking Isabel is like going to heaven, but it happens so damn rarely. It sure shut me up though. I didn't say another word about the caning.

When she let me up I examined my ass in the bathroom. There were nasty red welts but no blood. It felt worse than it looked, and the pain was mostly gone and replaced by soreness by now. OK, I was ready to fuck Isabel.

She came in to the bathroom and her hand slid over my ass. The sore skin hurt more as she fondled it, but fuck, I will do anything to have her make love to me.

And fuck we did. Slow at first, out bodies intertwining, and pressing, my cock sliding along her stomach, thighs, ass... she has a fucking perfect body. When I finally entered she was wet and ready and it was like coming home. Her legs lifted up and wrapped around me, her hands grabbed my ass and I let out a yelp from the pain but kept on pushing into her.

The feeling of Isabel's body underneath mine is so precious, so beautiful, so rare, I forgot about the fact I had just had the bejeezes caned out of me. Instead I spurt a huge load of sperm into her cunt, and groaned loudly while doing it, feeling her hands on my ass, squeezing and urging me on.

It was late by then, like about 8:30. I took Bel out to dinner to a local place called Beachwood Cafe. They were open until 10:00. People stared at her; they do that sometimes because they all figure she is a movie star or model and they are trying to figure out who she is, and when I am with her, who I might be. Being seen with Isabel is like going out with Jennifer Lawrence or something.

I felt good that night. I mean, being with Isabel is never dull. It's sometimes painful, but never dull.

It wasn't until later, much later that night, that I considered what she meant when she said "my first caning." There will be more.

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