Prologue

 

Marcus was sitting in his favourite armchair, reading a book. A log fire burned in the grate, its crackling the only sound in the room. Roxanna knelt naked at his feet, her head resting in his lap. In her lovely mouth she held his cock, soft and warm and still. She was not allowed to suck or lick. You're my cock-holder, he told her; your job is to keep it safe and snug.

Earlier that day he had told her that she would be beaten that evening. It was four days since he had last done so. She was a quick healer and the marks he had left had almost faded now. I wish they didn't go so quickly, she said; I'm proud to carry them. But he was glad when they faded; he preferred to beat a pristine white ass, to set his mark upon her unblemished flesh.

That would come later. For now, a mood of reverie had come over him. He put his book aside and sipped from a glass of wine. He looked down at Roxanna and stroked her hair, smiling, wanting her to know the tenderness he felt for her. Her mouth full of his cock, she could not smile back, but he saw how she looked at him and he was content. He could hardly imagine his life now without her, and yet it was barely six months since they had first met. They had travelled so far in that time. How different he was way back then, when she had first approached him. Yet if he had not made the decisions he had made a year ago, had not done the things he had done, she would never have made contact with him. His hand still stroking her hair, he closed his eyes and thought back to those early days before they met, the first tentative steps that had taken him along the route to where he was now....

Chapter One

 

'Am I getting through to you?' Marcus raised the leather tawse to shoulder height and brought it sharply down across the girl's bare bottom.

She squealed. 'Yes, yes, please sir!'

'Please what?' he demanded and lashed her again.

'Please sir, don't smack me any more, it's hurting!'

'It's supposed to hurt,' he said, and laid the tawse across her bottom again, slightly harder than the previous time. He pulled her skirt higher up over her waist. Her knickers were down to her knees. She tried to wriggle free, but he pushed her firmly down onto the desk with his left hand before once again whacking her across the rump.

'I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't soon forget,' said Marcus.

'No, please, no more, sir. I'll be good,' the girl cried.

'Dirty little slut,' said Marcus. 'I'll teach you to keep your fingers out of your knickers.'

He hit her again. Her bottom was bright red now. She had stopped wriggling. He thought she might have reached the stage where the warmth caused by the stinging leather strap was spreading into her loins. He smacked her with several more carefully measured blows. She moaned each time. Her breath was coming in short gasps. He paused again, then thought, six more strokes, hard ones, would just about do it. Best to err on the side of caution with a novice.

When he finally laid the tawse down she was trembling. He put one hand on the back of her neck, a firm but gentle pressure. With his other hand he softly stroked her bottom. It felt hot to the touch.

'Well done,' he said. 'Are you going to be a good little girl now?'

'Yes, sir,' she said. 'Thank you, sir.'

'Excellent,' said Marcus.

He crossed the room and put the tawse back in the drawer.

'I'll give you ten minutes to get your breath back and get dressed,' he said. 'Then perhaps you'll join me in a glass of wine?'

'Yes, okay,' she answered.

He went out, closing the door behind him. He took out his phone and made a couple of calls. Then he went to the kitchen and took a bottle of wine from the rack. Picking up a corkscrew and a couple of glasses, he walked back to his study. She was seated on a chair, applying lipstick with the aid of a small mirror.

'Red wine okay?' he asked.

'Mmm, yes,' she said. 'Something full-bodied.'

She gave him a knowing smile. Petra was a well-built girl with large breasts and a well-proportioned bottom. He found her comely rather than beautiful but she was undeniably attractive. And he liked her. She had a sense of fun, and she spoke her mind.

Marcus raised his glass to her. 'I always find it helpful to have a bit of a de-briefing afterwards. It helps to get some feedback for next time. If there is to be a next time.'

'Oh, yes please,' she said. 'It was good.'

'You weren't tempted to use the safe word?'

'No, not at all. We could go further. But I wanted to ask you about that.'

'Yes?'

'There's a contradiction. I'm not sure how to resolve it.'

He thought he knew what was coming, but he let her continue.

'The real buzz, the real excitement, comes from the feeling of losing control, of being totally in another's power. Of course there's pleasure in the pain too, after a while, when the endorphins kick in. But what gave the whole thing its edge was the fact that however much I resisted it made no difference. I knew that you would deal with me as you saw fit. And that was very arousing.'

Marcus smiled. 'So, what's the problem?'

'At the same time I had a safe word. You insisted on it. And I think I see the necessity. I needed to feel safe, to be sure that things would not get out of hand. But this means I'm trying to have it both ways, to be safe and yet to be powerless.'

Marcus was thoughtful. She had put it very clearly, what he liked to call 'the paradox of the submissive'.

'Yes,' he said, 'there is a dilemma. How can you be really taken out of yourself if you know you only have to say one little word and everything returns to normal? But this is not the only situation in which such contradictions occur.'

She sipped her wine, looking at him quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate.

'Take reading a novel,' he said. 'You know it's all made up, from beginning to end. It doesn't have any basis in reality. But during the time that you read it, you suspend your disbelief. You pretend it is real. If it's a well-told story.'

'Yes, I see,' she said. 'So it's like we are enacting a little story?'

'Something like that. You can if you wish bring reality crashing back. But it's fun if you pretend. Now here's where the skill comes in, if I may be immodest for a moment.'

'Yes?'

'It's up to the Dom to create a convincing scenario, one which will appeal to the submissive's particular needs. That way, she can lose herself in the fantasy. Every submissive is different, responds to different stimuli. Some like to be treated rough, some like to be humiliated, some like to be forced to admit their slutty nature, others like a lot of pain. The skilled Dom will know each one's peculiarities. And also, as the scenario develops, he will be alert to the responses he is getting, and modify his behaviour accordingly. Furthermore, and here we get to the nub of your question, he will know exactly how far to push things. Often this means going just that bit further than she thinks she can bear, pushing her limits. But it's fatal to go too far too fast, because then you will destroy trust.'

She sipped her wine again, considering what he had said. 'I see what you are saying,' she said. 'Yet I still wonder if the ultimate thrill wouldn't be for me to say, there are no limits, do your worst.'

'We'd have to know each other much better before we could approach that point,' he said.

She smiled. 'Perhaps we shall. Can I make another appointment?'

He consulted the large desk diary on the table nearby. They chose the same day next week. He showed her out. She kissed him on the cheek.

'Thank you,' she said.