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True Romance

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She never had any concern about crying in front of Jason. To everybody else she would always smile, but Jason she’d always allowed to see her when she was hurt, as she was so badly now. He’d come over the moment she’d called, frowning disapprovingly as she had opened her front door for him and he had found her a mess of tears and tissues. Then he’d simply enveloped her in his arms and let her cry it out without even telling him why she was upset.

Indeed, at first he wouldn’t even let her try to tell him. Only later, once she had had a shower and fixed her face and her hair, did he take her hand in one of his, holding a bottle of wine with a couple of glasses in the other, then lead her outside to the bright sunshine to sit in her garden. Then he let her tell him what it was that had happened, only then.

At least she was no longer bawling. She always felt vaguely ashamed of herself when reduced to tears, even if they were perfectly understandable tears she had every right to shed. Jason never made her feel that shameful, however. When she was upset or distraught, he simply listened and she never felt foolish, like she did when showing her emotions to others. Maybe that was why it had ended so badly with Richard. Maybe she hadn’t been open enough with him, hadn’t told him often enough she wanted to be with him, hadn’t been nice enough or kind enough or loving enough…

“Enough,” Jason told her, curtly. “Enough blaming yourself. Richard used you for all he could get and when he had used you up, he moved on. The man was a cad.”

It made her smile through the pain. Only Jason used such antiquated terminology and made it sound so ordinary. She had always loved his language, ever since they were teenagers. He could make the most base swear words sound like poetry. Words were Jason’s speciality, he was never at a loss for them, unlike her, who bumbled and mumbled and got stricken by shy nerves at any given opportunity.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised contritely. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it wasn’t my fault, really. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe I had done something different, if I had been somehow different, if maybe he…”

“He what? Would have stayed? Charlotte, the last thing you needed was for Richard to stay. He was bad for you,” Jason’s voice was firm, his opinion quite decided. It had been one he had held for some time, she realised, but he had not voiced it before now and she wondered why. “You are better without him. He took over your life, but in no good way. You know you weren’t happy.”

“I might have been able be happy if only I…”

“No,” he admonished. “No more of this, you hear me? I will not let you pine away for a man who used you so heinously. You deserve better than a control freak bastard like that. Do you understand?”


“I said, do you understand, Charlotte?”

She could not help but nod, for she did understand and truly it was something of a relief to find that Jason, who’s opinion she valued so highly, believed what she had secretly known for some long time now. That Richard, the man she’d thought she might even marry, was a true and utter bastard who she was better off without.

Not that it didn’t still hurt. “I guess I’m just afraid,” she admitted quietly at last. “It’s not easy for me to meet people, you know. I’m not like you, who can get on with everyone and be someone’s best friend in five minutes. I’m shy and I don’t have your way with words.”

He smiled at her with some exasperation, refilling her wine glass on the outdoor setting table in front of them, then taking her hand in both his own and holding it tightly, running his thumb across her knuckles, like he had used to do when she was a little girl. He was about six or seven years older than her and had lived next door to her when she had been a teenager. Her family had moved next to his when she’d been about twelve and being the shy type even back then, she hadn’t made friends fast or easily in this new city and new school. But Jason had been her friend, he had been in his final year of high school as she had just begun her first and he had looked out for her in that difficult first year. They had been friends ever since.

“You have too many self doubts, when you have need of none,” he told her. “You are a capable and charming young woman.”

“I’m glad you think so. I just feel like a lost fool,” she returned somewhat sardonically, though aware he was trying to make her feel better.

“You’re not a fool,” he assured her. “Lost maybe, but no fool. You are sweet and kind and giving, Charlotte. But you need to learn how to say no, or you’re always going to be taken advantage of by the Richard’s of this world.”

She shrugged uncomfortably, using the hand he wasn’t holding to reach out and take her wine glass. It was only her second, but he had hardly touched his first and she knew with the mood she was in she could easily go through the entire bottle before he finished his one and only glass. Jason never did drink much, however. And she had a habit of self-medicating when in moods like this.

“I know it,” she agreed quietly. “And I need to cut the self pity too, huh? Sorry for being such miserable company, Jase. I just needed to cry it out, I think, before going to face the world again pretending I was perfectly fine.”

He grimaced, unhappy with that answer, as she had known he would be. “Yes, you’re good at that, aren’t you,” he commented grimly, not for the first time. “Pretending to all and sundry that nothing is bothering you. Keeps the world at a good distance, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t keep the world at a distance,” she returned immediately. “It’s just I should be more in charge of my own emotions and it’s my own weakness if I can’t be. I know at least I shouldn’t inflict them on others.”

He swore at her, exasperation obvious.

“And you need to stop denying your own emotions, as if they were somehow wrong merely because you feel them,” he told her off yet again. “Hell, Charlotte, that bastard just walked out on you and you’re worrying about whether you’re feeling too sorry for yourself? You’ve every right to feel sorry for yourself. And I am here to listen. It is all right to cry, you know. We all do it.”

“Even big strong men like you?” she teased, trying to get him to smile again, even if she didn’t feel a great deal like it herself. If nothing else, Jason always did make her feel better. When she was with him, she felt as if it were okay to be herself. She felt safe being herself and that was something she never felt with anybody else.

He let a long breath exhale through clenched teeth. “Girl, you can be so frustrating at times,” he told her, but he was half smiling. “Of course I cry. You’ve seen me on more than one occasion. I am not afraid of my emotions, unlike others I could mention.”

“I’m not afraid!” she protested, taking more wine.

“Hmmm, it’s debatable. But you will be quite drunk if you keep drinking at that rate,” he reminded her. “Anyone would think I was trying to take advantage of your lonesome state.”

“Huh. I feel like getting drunk. Maybe I’ll get really ratty and do something stupid and silly and make a right fool of myself.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t do anything too bad,” he promised, squeezing her hand. “Get totally drunk and forget about him, if it will help, and I will see you are all right.”

He was always like that, was Jason. Watching over her as if she were still twelve years old and terrified of starting a school in a new city where she knew no one and everything was different. He was the only one she ever let watch over her like that. With anybody else, under any other circumstances, she would be strong and fine and capable and coping, never admitting to needing anybody’s help. Jason was the one person she could let it all out with and be as lost and as helpless as she so often felt inside, when she was pretending to be so strong. He understood. With Jason, she was safe.

He spoke about something else then, changing the subject to happier news and inconsequential happenings, something to smile at, encouraging her to laugh. And so she did, she couldn’t resist his well told stories, his light jokes. He knew what she needed to feel better. He always did.

“I really have to sort out my life, don’t I?” she asked softly after they had fallen into a companionable silence for a while. He sighed.

“No more bastards and control freaks who can’t appreciate your worth, Charlotte. At least promise me that.”

“I seem to have a habit of them, don’t I?”


It was true. In all her disastrous relationships, she always seemed to end up with the one type of man, and that always seemed to be selfish bastards like Richard. And Jason had seen her through them all. From the first high school boyfriends to the man she had first moved out of her parent’s home to live with. One way or another, they all turned out the same, and Jason was always there to pick up the pieces for her afterwards. He had been the one constant in her life.

“I try not to, you know,” she did tell him. “I really try to pick the nice ones. It’s just they all turn out to be the same.”

He didn’t answer that at first, which surprised her. Jason was rarely at a loss for words. She frowned at his unexpected silence and looked over to him to find him looking out across her garden thoughtfully, a pensive expression on his face. He still held her hand in his and his fingers unconsciously tightened over hers.

“You don’t have it within you to deny someone who appears to know what they want, Charlotte,” he said after a moment. “It makes you vulnerable. You are the strongest woman I have ever known. And yet you area also one of the most vulnerable.”

“Gee, thanks,” she retorted, made uneasy by his seriousness. She tried to tease him back into a smile. “Vulnerable and weak, am I?”

“I did not say that. I said you were strong and I meant it. You are the strongest person I know. Stronger than I am, I think at times,” he told her, gazing down at her hand in his. Then he looked over and met her eyes. “But you need discipline, Charlotte. You need boundaries. You find these guys you feel will provide it and yet you have no idea what you’re truly looking for, so you pick the wrong ones. The ones who will hurt you, instead of the ones who will appreciate the gift you give them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jase,” she told him mildly, for it was the truth. “But whatever it is, I believe you.”

“Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked suddenly, his voice rough.

“Yes.” It was a simple answer, for it was the truth.

“Do you trust me completely? Fully and truly?” he pushed, which made her frown. It seemed important to him. She only nodded.

“Jason, I would trust you if you told me the sky was purple and dogs climbed trees,” she said and she meant it. “You know I would. I have done so since I was twelve years old and you’re the only one in my life outside of my parents who has never betrayed my trust.”

That made him nod. He knew it was true. “You need to be taught discipline, Charlotte. Discipline enough to say no when it is necessary, to not let everybody walk all over you,” he told her. “Do you trust me enough to learn it from me?”

She really had no idea what he was talking about, even for Jason his language was obscure, but she understood enough to know he was asking if she trusted him for something and the truth was she trusted him with anything. With everything. Even without fully understanding, she trusted him. She knew he would never do anything to hurt her, ever.

“Yes,” she murmured. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. It made her start slightly. Jason had never kissed her hand before, let alone any other part of her. Their friendship had always been entirely platonic.

“Come upstairs.”

She did not hesitate to do what he said, though she wondered what he was thinking and wanted to ask. Yet she did not ask, she simply followed him up her garden path, climbing the steps slightly behind him and trusting him explicitly. He seemed to need to be reassured of it, though he already knew he was the one and only person in all the world she did trust so wholly, and so she said nothing, asked no questions, as a sign of that trust.

He led her inside, keeping hold of her hand. It felt strange to be holding Jason’s hand. Not that such contact hadn’t occurred between them before, but this time it felt different. There was nervousness inside of her, butterflies in her stomach, yet strangely it was an enjoyable feeling. She wondered what he meant by being taught discipline, what he meant by planning to teach it to her. It was startling suddenly to realise she was actually enjoying the nervous anticipation. She was curious and her curiosity totally overwhelmed her despair over Richard walking out on her.

She bit her lip as he took her into her bedroom, but still said nothing. He was silent, so she too remained silent, waiting to hear what he wanted her to do. He lead her to stand in the middle of the room, then he let go of her hand and walked away, turning to sit on the edge of her bed.

She only stood there as he sat down and looked at her, she standing in her old skirt and unironed blouse, whatever clothes she had grabbed to throw on after her shower, because with Jason it didn’t matter what she looked like. Yet now, under his gaze, which was intense and penetrating, she felt severely under-dressed, she felt even ashamed perhaps that she was not looking better, though she knew Jason did not mind. He was her oldest and closest friend, he had seen her at her best and at her worst, and yet she still wished now she had dressed up a little for him.

“Tell me what you feel went wrong with Richard,” he said suddenly and it was not a question. She jolted a little, the tone to his voice was not one she was used to, though it suited him. It was demanding. It even sounded almost like an order.

“Um, I’ve told you…” she began unsurely, not sure what to say.

“I asked you to tell me again. Do so. Now!”

She gulped at his sudden, unexpected anger.

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably where she stood, stung by the shock of his sudden change of mood. “Well I guess I was just not what he was looking for. I guess he wanted someone more, uh…”

“You say ‘I’. You blame yourself?”

He sounded so demanding. It made her want to apologise, because when he spoke to her like that, angrily, shortly, she felt like she had somehow disappointed him. As if in failing herself, she also failed him and that was one thing she never wanted to do. He said she was the strongest person he had ever known; she did not want to disappoint his expectations of her, even if she felt she could never be so good as he thought she was.

“I guess so,” she mumbled, somewhat ashamed. His eyes narrowed.

“Your first fault was in staying with him once he began to treat you so badly,” he told her then and she could only looked down. To hear him, Jason, her friend, speak to her like that, made tears prick at her eyes. “Your second fault is to blame yourself. These are your errors. Not him leaving, not the rotten things he said, not how he treated you. All that was his fault and his responsibility and he is to blame only.”

“I know, but Jase, I can’t help but feel…” she tried.

“No!” he cut her off sharply, loudly, and she all but jumped at the suddenness of it. “I will hear this no more. Yes, you made mistakes, I have told you what they are. These are what you will be punished for. For not saying no when you should have. For letting him rule your life when he did not deserve such a gift.”

Punished…? What was he talking about? She couldn’t answer for her confusion and it must have shown on her face, but he did not take pity on her, remaining as angry and as harsh as he had suddenly become. This was not the Jason she knew so well, not her friend of so many years. And yet, part of her knew it was. She was surprised he had suddenly turned his anger upon her and it made her want to cry all over again, but she was not surprised he was capable of it. Something about Jason had always been that way.

“Um, what do you mean, punished?” she ventured the question unsurely, almost afraid of asking. His eyes narrowed angrily.

“Take off your panties, Charlotte,” he told her.

That made her jump, words she had never expected from Jason, indeed had never even considered. Not in all the time they had been friends had she ever let herself think of him in a sexual way, because she knew he had never thought that way of her. Not that necessarily that was what this was, of course, but take off her panties? What did he mean?

When they had been young, when they had been children, she had been twelve and he eighteen. Back then such an age difference meant a lot and they had never been anything but friends since. As if the relations between them set when they were young were simply something neither had ever questioned, not even as they got older and the age difference meant less and less. He was always involved in some relationship, or she in another, and they had always only been friends. He had never wanted it any other way and she had valued his judgement in such matters to such a high regard that she had never thought it best to try for otherwise.

“Jase?” she asked quietly, starting to get scared.

“You heard me, Charlotte.”

Such a dark warning in his voice. She knew automatically that he wouldn’t put up with any further hesitation. She swallowed hard, but all of a sudden heard his earlier words in her head. “Do you trust me, Charlotte?” The answer was yes, of course it was yes, and suddenly thinking of that, knowing he would never hurt her, knowing he would only ever do what was best for her, she stopped hesitating, reached down to the hem of her skirt and slipped her hands up underneath.

It was embarrassing, all but undressing in front of him like that and she kept her skirt in place so that he couldn’t see what she was doing. Not that he hadn’t seen her naked before, they had been friends so long and were so close that such modesty was never much of an issue. Yet now, for the first time, her cheeks burned red as she tried with difficulty to slip off her panties from underneath her skirt, shuffling awkwardly as she did so. Part of her suddenly wished she could achieve this task more surely, more sexily even, rather than this bumbling confusion with which she acted. Or at least that she was wearing something a little more attractive than her old waist-high, decidedly un-sexy cotton underwear pulled without thought from the dry washing earlier.

When she had stepped her legs out of her panties, she stood up straight again, bunching them up tightly in her hand and looking away, rather than at his eyes. Nonetheless, she saw it when he held his hand out to her, palm up, and she knew what he wanted. Breathing deeply, she stepped quickly forward and gave them to him, almost jumping back again as her fingers brushed his as she did so. His touch was electric. She realised, with some shock, that she was beginning to grow incredibly warm between the legs.

He took her panties and put them on the bed beside him without looking at them, indeed, without ever taking his eyes off her. She felt like he could see right through her, but then she always had with Jason. He knew her better than any.

“Come here,” he said in a quietly dangerous tone of voice. She did not dare disobey, not when he used that tone with her, and she stepped forward hesitantly, feeling very bare and vulnerable without any panties on beneath her skirt. She was shaking as she reached him, trembling just a little. She wished desperately she knew what was going on, but she had no idea of what he planned and no idea what any of this meant. All she did know was that she trusted him and whatever it was, it was for her he was doing it. He considered this, whatever it was, something she needed.

“Now,” he began when she was standing right before him, so close she could reach out and touch him. “You are going to lay across my knees and I am going to give you the spanking of your life, Charlotte. It will hurt and you will cry, as you should, because this is a punishment you deserve. Do you understand me?”

At first she couldn’t reply, opening her mouth in shock and looking straight at him for the first time in several minutes. No words came out, not until she forced them, and even then they were not the ones she planned.

“But… Jason, hang on a sec, this isn’t what…” she tried, but he let her get no further. With a dark glare which spoke only anger at her further hesitation, he reached out and took hold of her. She jumped with the shock of it, unable to resist in her sudden surprise and he tipped her forward and dragged her to him. She must have cried out a little in shock, but it made no difference to him, he merely pulled her down over his knees and she had no way to stop him.

Which was how she found herself suddenly lying across his knees and held there tightly, breathing deeply in fear, desperate surprise and, she was shocked to find, ever increasing excitement.

“How do you feel, Charlotte?” he asked her then, doing nothing more than holding her there. That demanding, ordering tone was still in his voice and she swallowed hard.


She wasn’t sure what to say. There was too much to try and say and she couldn’t find the words. Scared. Yes, she was scared, she had no idea what he was going to do and the things he had said made no sense. Embarrassed, oh definitely. Her cheeks burned red at finding herself held over his knees, her bottom bare beneath her skirt, as if she were a child, not a grown woman. They began to burn even more fiercely at the growing realisation that she kind of liked it.

Her emotions were all mixed up. “I’m confused, Jason,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“A little frightened, perhaps?” he prompted, his voice hard. “Vulnerable? Humiliated, even?”

“Yes,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. How did he know exactly how she felt? How could he so easily describe what she herself was feeling, when she found it impossible to do so? “All those.”


She stiffened, stifling her surprise only by biting down on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to shake her head, she wanted to tell him no, but she could not lie, not to Jason, and yet how could she tell him how warm he was making her? How could she explain that her body heated to hear that demanding, ordering tone in his voice, at being handled so roughly when he had all but thrown her over his knees, at being told she was going to be punished, going to be spanked?

She could not explain it to him when she had no way of even explaining it to herself. Being frightened, being vulnerable, being humiliated, all those things he had said, she felt them all only too keenly. They were not good things, surely they were not good things. Yet how could she ever explain why her body had so suddenly responded in such a way to each and every one of them?

“Jason, please…” she tried to plead. She almost felt in tears again at her own confusion. None of this made sense. “I… I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“I told you what I’m going to do. I’m going to punish you.”

“But I never thought… I mean, spanking? Like I’m some little girl? I feel… I feel silly, like I’m a child,” she tried to say, tried also to shift into a more comfortable position, but he would not let her. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

For a moment, she heard him sigh and his hands upon her body, which balanced awkwardly across his knees, grew gentle. He reached one over and caressed her hair, his fingers flittering over the side of her face with care. The touch calmed her down, it reminded her just how much he did care for her.

“Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked once again, his voice quiet.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Jason,” she answered quietly. “I trust you.”

“And you know I would never do anything to hurt you. I am only doing what is best for you, you understand?”

And so she did. A little. Not in how a spanking would help her, but rather, she trusted him to know what was best and if he thought this was best, then she would not argue.

“I understand,” she promised, then realised that wasn’t being entirely honest. “At least partly.”

“Good. Now tell me what you are being punished for.”

The dark demand was back in his voice, but this time it didn’t shock or frighten her. Rather it comforted her, to know that he would judge these things and that he would know what was necessary, even if she didn’t fully understand herself. She could trust him to make these judgements.

“For… for not saying no. For letting myself be a doormat,” she answered quietly, feeling suddenly ashamed. “For blaming myself.”

“Yes. You need to learn to live using the full extent of your strength, which I know is vast,” he told her. “You need self discipline. That is what I am going to make sure you learn, Charlotte. I will make sure you are not so undisciplined again.”

As he spoke, he reached down and took hold of the hem of her skirt, raising it up and tucking it into the back of her belt at her waist. It left her exposed from behind, her bare buttocks clear to his view and, she suddenly realised with much trepidation, his right hand. She closed her eyes tightly, able only to see the floor from where she lay across his legs anyway, and nodded quickly, before she chickened out.

She cried out with the first whack to her arse, harder than she had expected, so much more painful than what she had thought it would be. Yet it was as much the humiliation of being spanked as if she were a child as it was the pain of his hand on her buttocks which caused her to bite her lip and fight back sudden tears. It came as such a shock, no matter how much she had tried to ready herself for it; perhaps she hadn’t quite believed he would do it until that moment. The sting was hard, but the knowledge she was being punished with a spanking was even harder. She screwed up her eyes and took a gulping breath. She could hardly believe this was actually happening.

After the first blow he paused and caressed her buttocks gently. Such a wonderful feeling, she discovered, her arse slightly warm from the sharp, painful contact, then touched with such care by contrast. The gentleness did not last long however. He only let her get her breath and control her suddenly surprise, before once more his hand came down upon her, hard and fast, three in quick succession.

“Jason …” she began in sudden fear and he stopped for the moment, which surprised her, though he said nothing. Her backside was warm, still stinging from the slaps against it, and her body shook, shocked and overwhelmed as she clenched her eyes together and tried to make sense of how it could both hurt so much, but heat her so undeniably. She could not like it, but part of her seemed to want it, and she was still so shocked by her own reactions that she could not continue with what she had been going to say, even though he paused to let her.

When it was clear she would say nothing, he began the spanking once more. Each time his hand came down against her skin, it was harder and with greater force. With each slap, each blow, it hurt that bit more and they just kept coming, stronger and harder, his open palm over her buttocks, until she was squirming badly under his hold and crying out with every contact. It didn’t matter that she tried to hold her lips together, tried to take it all without obvious response, she just could not help it. With each slap she thought she could not bare another, and then the next would come, and the next, with her writhing and whimpering loudly, then, slowly, starting to truly cry.

He held her fast with his other hand, his grip upon her body firm, but she did not try to fight his hold, nor once did she try to stand or get away. It seemed to go on forever and just get worse and worse as it did. There was no time now to dissect her confused feelings, the warmth this had initially given her, because it all only gave way now to a very real pain, as he did not stop and certainly was not gentle.

“Please stop…” she uttered, she couldn’t help herself, when she could hold back her voice no more. Tears were falling down her cheeks, the pain was growing so badly. “Please… please Jason, I can take no more…”

She had thought he might stop, he had that first time she had spoken after all, but he did not, he did not heed her words or listen to her pleas, not even when her first few tears became outright sobs and she was shaking as he spanked her hard, crying and begging him so desperately to stop.

“No!” she eventually forced herself to say and suddenly there was some real strength to her tone. Real force to her voice. “No more. I can do this no more.”

He stopped. His hand returned to caress her buttocks, but he said nothing. For the moment, neither did she. She just lay there, tears all over her face, sniffing and trying to get control of herself, able only to see the floor through vision blurred with tears. She couldn’t figure out if she were glad he had finally listened to her request he stop or not. She so wanted this to be over, but something within her was not comfortable with the fact it had been she who had dictated when that would be so.

“It hurts so much,” she eventually said, her voice so quiet and strained. She did not try to stand or move from his hold yet.

“It is meant to, Charlotte,” he reminded her. “You are being punished, remember. Spankings can be enjoyable, as you may have already realised, but those for punishment are not meant to be enjoyed.”


For a few moments more there was silence. She had long realised he was no stranger to this, this was certainly not something new to him, but rather something he was familiar and experienced in doing. That did not surprise her. She knew Jason so well that to discover this was a part of him only made sense.

To discover it was a part of her, also, was what truly surprised her then.

“Do you want me to stop, Charlotte?” he asked her suddenly and he kept his voice completely neutral. No demands, no orders, but no pity or sympathy either. Neutral, blank.

She gulped back her tears, her arse burning from the pain of it, and wanting nothing more than to yell out ‘yes!’, for she could stand it no more, it hurt too much. But his blank voice stayed her tongue. For the moment, she merely fought to breath.

“Is… Have I been punished enough?” she ventured very quietly indeed.

“Not in my opinion.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and wished he had said anything else, in any other tone. Wished he had been demanding or angry like he had been earlier, or friendly and worried like he had been when she had first opened the door to him this day. Not so blank. Not so neutral. Not leaving the decision in her hands.

Yet the decision was and always had been in her hands. He was doing this for her and as such it demanded her consent. If she wanted it to be in his hands, then she had to willingly give it up to him.

Oh gods, she thought helplessly, then suddenly shook her head. “Then no,” she whispered, able to make it no louder. “Do not stop. Not until you think you should.”

He did not speak to answer, but his hand once more down upon her already very sore arse was answer enough. She cried at the feel of it, unable to believe she had agreed to this. Unable to believe she thought it right. She was beginning to understand.

She did not protest again, though she cried and did not try to hide it. Sobs of pain and shame, for he was right, she had not acted as well as she should have. She had let herself down and in doing so had let him down also. He expected only the best from her and she had failed to live up to his expectations and for that she was punished. As the pain grew so great she thought she would never be able to bear it, she began to understand that this was what she truly did deserve. And in understanding that, she could only welcome it more.

All those feelings of despair and wretchedness over Richard leaving her, all the guilt which consumed her, guilt at not having been worth enough for him to stay with, guilt at having somehow driven him away, or even guilt at secretly knowing she should never have let him stay so long to begin with, it all began to fade. It dissipated within her, replaced only by the shame of knowing she had not been strong enough to stand up for herself, the disgrace of having let herself be so badly used and still blame herself for it. But worst of all, of knowing she had not been the strong, capable woman Jason knew she could be, knowing she had failed him, and that was the worst feeling in the world.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered between sobs, a begged litany of shame, of knowing her errors and accepting punishment for them. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, forgive me. It will not happen again. Please forgive me.”

It was then he stopped, after what had seemed like so long. Her arse burned so badly, her body ached from the uncomfortable position she had been held in, her eyes were red and her face splotched from her crying. But now he stopped and he simply held her there. Once again his hand came softly to her bare, burning buttocks, caressing them gently, his hands upon her now sweet and kind and loving.

He let her lay there for a little while as she sobbed softly, then slowly pushed her upwards, gently now, with such care. She followed his unspoken instruction and began to sit up, shifting from his knees and finding her own feet again unsteadily. She glanced to him, only briefly, to find he was watching her with concern and care, but she could not hold his eyes and only wiped at her own, ashamed by her tears and her behaviour. He sighed.

“Stand up before me, Charlotte,” he told her, no longer angry or harsh, though his tone held no expectation of anything other than that she would obey. And so she would, she was long beyond resisting him now.

She stood up, getting her balance back and letting her skirt fall back into place, wincing at the feel of it against her sore, red, burning backside. But she didn’t let her hands go to it, rather she kept them by her side, clenched loosely into fists as she tried to forget the pain she felt and instead only stood there before him, her head slightly down, looking to the ground. She no longer sobbed, but the tears would not stop. She waited for him to speak first.

“How do you feel?” he asked her and he sounded kind.

“Sore,” she admitted, wiping at her eyes. “I did not expect it to hurt so much.”

“Yes. I had to ensure it was not merely a spanking to be enjoyed. It had to be done properly, as punishment, which should never be confused with pleasure,” he told her, as if it all made perfect sense to him. “Do you hate me now, for what I have done to you?”

His voice sounded calm and in control, but his words alone betrayed the worry he felt underlying them. She picked up on it quickly, she knew him too well not to, and quickly looked up and met his eyes directly, shaking her head sharply indeed.

“No, never. Never,” she rushed the words out to try and assure him. “Please, Jason, don’t think I could ever or would ever…. I know what you do, you do for my own good. I may not have liked it, but I understand why you do it. And I… Jason, I can only be grateful for it. It cannot have been easy for you, either. Thank you.”

He sighed. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, gesturing over to her. “Kneel before me now.”

She did not know whether it was the term of endearment, ‘sweetheart’, which gave her such a rush of pleasure, or merely his instruction to come forward and kneel at his feet. It was as if all his anger and harshness, derived from her foolish behaviour forcing him to punish her, was now eliminated because she had been punished and the issue was resolved, truly resolved. No longer did the emotions Richard had left her with tear her up inside. Rather, she felt calm, content.

Yes, content. Stepping forward and slowly dropping to her knees before him, that was the only word she could find to accurately describe how she was feeling. Content. At true peace.

She knelt so that she was right in front of him, between his legs and looking up to his concerned, caring face. He took her hands and looked down upon her and she bit her lip, not sure what was to happen now, as he squeezed her fingers gently. Then he raised one of his own hands to wipe the remaining tears away from her eyes.

“It does not give me pleasure to make you cry like this, Charlotte,” he told her. “You are capable of so much, you are such a strong woman. It pains me to see you not live up to your full potential.”

“I’m sorry Jason,” she said and meant it. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Why? Because you’re afraid I’ll spank you again?” Something about his tone sounded just a touch sardonic. “I would never do so without your consent, you know.”

“I know that,” she answered and was very sure. “And I trust your judgement, Jason. I trust it far more than my own. It’s just… I… I don’t like to disappoint you. I want you to be proud of me.”

He smiled softly as he looked down at her then, his hands brushing the hair back from her face. “I am, my Charlotte. I am,” he told her.

It made her smile, though her body still felt so sore. He’d called her ‘my Charlotte’, he’d said he was proud of her. It seemed to her then that it was all that could ever matter. His return smile, however, was less sure, more pained. His hand caressed the side of her face as he looked down at her and for once, maybe for the first time ever, she thought he was the one who looked confused.

“Charlotte…” he began, then stopped.


“You know I… you know you are very special to me, don’t you?” he asked and his voice was soft. He even sounded unsure, as if he felt he should not be speaking or saying these things and she wondered why, because it made her feel so good to hear them. He was always so in control, of himself, of his life. She began to wonder then if he had perhaps kept himself under too much control for far too long.

How long had he wanted to tell her Richard was not good for her? How long had he wanted to say to her that she should never let herself be treated like Richard had treated her, but instead had restrained his words and tried not to interfere? Picking up the pieces for her afterwards, seeing her through the tough times, but feeling all the time that she was capable of so much more. Wanting to teach her, perhaps, but restraining himself, controlling himself, not sure how she would react, not sure if that was how she would best learn. Always so in control, to the point where if it were something he also wanted, he was afraid of inflicting his own desires upon her, in case they clouded his judgement.

“You did the right thing, Jason,” she told him then, knowing him too well. “You were right. I was letting myself, and you, down. Thank you, thank you for doing this, for doing what I needed. Please tell me what you are thinking.”

He sighed, then slowly leant down and kissed her forehead, a soft touch, lingering there as his hand brushed the hair away from her face. She closed her eyes to savour the feelings. It felt so good to be kneeling before him, to feel his hands on her face, to know he cared enough to want her to do well in life. To want her to truly live to her full potential. To be prepared to do the hard things necessary to ensure that was so.

“Ah, my Charlotte. I have loved you since you were twelve years old,” he murmured, his lips to her hair. “I have only ever wanted the very best for you.”

How long? How long had he kept this unspoken, not wanting to allow himself his own desires, in case it was not the best for her?

She could not help but offer a rueful smile. Perhaps as long as she had kept her own desires unspoken, believing he never wanted anything more than friendship and trusting his judgement too highly to suggest otherwise.

“Jason, you are the best thing for me,” she said to him then. “All my life I’ve known that. All my life I’ve only ever wanted someone like you, all the while knowing there was no other like you. No one I could ever love as much as I do you. You should have told me.”

He took his hands in hers, looking down at her from where he sat. “You needed time, my love,” he spoke quietly. “At least, I thought I needed to give you time, to forge your own life, to discover your own strengths. To know you were strong without me, before I could allow myself to show you how strong you could be with me.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed quietly. “But I believe you.”

“But today I began to think maybe I was wrong. You seemed to find these men who you believed were dominant, but they were only pretenders. Abusers who took advantage of who you are,” he frowned, and sounded vicious, almost angry again. “They don’t appreciate your qualities and your strengths. They do not care to see you be the best you can be. They set no boundaries, provide you with no discipline or structure within which to flourish, they only take what you give and you give all, my love, for it is in your nature to do so. You give all and you need someone to value that gift and protect you when you do so.”

She almost felt tears at her eyes again. He was describing to her something she would never have been able to articulate for herself, these things which made so much sense now that he said them, but which she could never have put words to before. Things it seemed she had felt all her life, but had never been able to utter, never knowing how to say it or what words to use. She gripped onto his hands tightly.

“Then I give it to you, Jason,” she whispered, trying to blink away the tears.

“Do you trust me Charlotte?” he asked her again and she did not think twice about answering.


“Even though I may punish you at times, like today, perhaps even worse?” he stated bluntly. “Do you trust me enough to know I do so only for your own good? When you deserve it? Do you trust me to provide the guidance you need, set the boundaries you require and know that I will keep you safe always? That I do these things out of love?”

“Yes, Jason,” she replied immediately. “Yes I trust you.”

“Do you trust me enough to do all that I say? To obey me in all things?” he asked then and his voice was firm, hard once again, almost like it had been when he had spanked her. She realised what a thrill it gave her to hear him speak to her thus. She loved the dominant, controlling sound to his voice.

She nodded. There was no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Do you trust me enough to make me your Master, Charlotte?”

If she had been watching this in a movie, she might have giggled, embarrassed, at such a suggestion from one of the characters on the screen. But she did not here and now, there could be no such urge when she knew he was in no way joking. He spoke very seriously and she only knew it was exactly the way she already felt. She would do anything to please him, to make him proud of her, knowing that he only ever had her best interests at heart. She knelt before him now and she was very serious in her answer.

“I do, Master,” she stated, very firmly and clearly indeed.

He started a little and it made her smile to see. He had not expected her to respond so confidently in calling him such, he had perhaps not expected her to so simply accept such terminology. But it only felt right to her, she accepted that immediately. It felt right to be kneeling before him, to want to do anything to please him. To obey him, to serve him, to submit to his control and to know he valued her for such. To know these instincts she had long felt were not something to be ashamed of, but simply who she was. And he loved her for who she was.

His return smile when he gave it was pleased and it gladdened her. She knew she had pleased him, that he liked to hear him call her thus and that indeed, if she trusted him enough, if she chose, that would be exactly who he was. He caressed her hands, trailing his fingers up her arms to her shoulders, before holding the edge of her chin in his fingers and tilting her head up so he could look in her eyes. Then, slowly, he leant down and kissed her on the lips for the very first time in all the years they had known one another. Just his very touch gave her a warmth and an excited shiver. The feel of his lips soft against hers was everything she’d ever dreamt it would be.

“Now stand up Charlotte,” he told her when he pulled gently back. She smiled and did as he said, standing shakily for the moment as the blood rushed back through her legs. He reached up to her belt buckle, unfastening it deftly, though his eyes never left hers.

“Master,” she said, testing the word in her mouth.


She smiled at his automatic response, naturally responding as if it were simply his rightful role, and so it was, so she knew it was.

“I was just practising,” she grinned, to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Do not worry, my Charlotte. You will get a lot of practise,” he told her. “For that is who I am and you will always refer to me as such, do you understand?”

She nodded quickly, growing warm at merely at the sound of his voice, that effortless dominance, the control he so naturally took. He slipped the belt from around her waist, sliding it out through the straps on her skirt and curling it around his hand for a moment, looking at it thoughtfully. Then he simply grinned to himself and put it on the bed beside him.

“Perhaps another time,” he told her teasingly, before his expression softened into fondness. “We will take your training slowly, my love.”

“Training?” she asked, not sure if she were relieved or disappointed he had put the belt away. The very thought of it had sent a spike of arousal deep through her belly and down between her legs, though simultaneously it had given her a very real nervous fear also.

“Yes, training in how best to please your Master, how best to serve his needs,” he informed her and she grinned, because she liked the idea of that. “That makes you smile, my love?”

“Very much, Master,” she smiled even broader. “I have always only wanted to please you.”

“Ah, my Charlotte. Why did I wait so long?” he asked, a rhetorical question she did not try to answer, knowing instinctively that it was not truly her place to do so. “Turn around for me and let down your hair.”

She did as he bid her, her hair falling to her waist as she pulled the elastics from it and slipped them over her wrist instead. He stood up behind her and she felt his hands at her waist, before he ran them down along the sides of her body, then up to cup her breasts gently. She leant back into him, amazed at how quickly and how greatly she was turned on by simply the sound of his voice and the light touch of his hands over her clothes. Sex for her had never been particularly easy, self-doubt and body image always got in the way, nerves made her anxious so it was hard for her to relax. It always took her a long time to start enjoying it. But with Jason she felt sure, with Jason she felt safe. With him, she even felt beautiful.

His hands left her breasts to float across her stomach, over her hips and to her still sore backside. She flinched unwittingly.

“Mmmm, you are still sore,” he commented, his face right by her ear and a distinct tone of satisfaction to his voice.

“Yes, Jase,” she murmured, before catching herself. It would not be as easy to remember as she had thought and she mentally berated herself for slipping up so soon. “I’m sorry, yes I am still sore Master,” she added quickly.

Thankfully, he only chuckled low.

“It is okay, Charlotte. I know there will be times when you forget at first and I will be forgiving of those. But there will come a time when I will not be so lenient with you,” he told her. “I expect you to learn fast. I know how capable and smart you are and I will not tolerate bad manners from you.”

“I won’t forget again, Master,” she promised, loving the way he spoke to her like that.

“Good,” he nodded, “for I will not forgive the same mistake twice and your arse is already sore enough this afternoon, I should think. You would not like it if I had to punish you again so soon.”

The shake of her head was quick. No, she definitely did not want him to have to punish her again.

He unzipped her tartan skirt and let it fall to her ankles, then gently pulled her closer to him. She took a deep, shuddering breath, she had never felt her body go so weak beneath the hands of another like this before, she felt as if she were merely putty or clay and he the potter, to mould her as he saw fit. Her blouse he gently lifted over her head, not worrying about the buttons, before reaching around her and unhooking the bra clasped between her breasts.

“Hmmm,” he frowned as he let the garment drop to the floor and she gulped to wonder if she had done anything to displease him. “Remind me later to collect all these from you. From now on you are not to wear undergarments again in my presence. Indeed, you are to ask my permission before wearing them at any time, do you understand?”

“I do, Master,” she answered, biting her lips to stop herself giggling at the wicked image that presented her with

“Good. Now turn around.”

She did as he bid, turning slowly and looking up at him, standing right in front of him, she now completely naked, he still fully clothed. Her eyes were wide as she looked up into his so familiar face. There was nothing different to it, he was unchanged from the man she had always known, the friend who had cared for her since she was a child. The tinge of command, the stern dominance, that had always been a part of him and she had always responded to it, though she had never known why. Now he was teaching her why and her breath held to finally understand.

He bought his hands up to her shoulders and drew her to him, then leant his head down and kissed her on the lips. She weakened at the touch, kissing him back even as his arms enveloped her and his hands reached up to the back of her head, tightening irrevocably in her hair. There was power in his grasp, a definite control which took her breath away. It made her feel as if she was very much under his command and she shivered with pleasure to remember that she truly was.

His grip on her hair tightened until it hurt and he held her with a possessiveness she could not fight as he began to more roughly crush her lips with his own, but it only made her lean further into him, offering herself as openly and as fully as she could to his desires. This full physical control of her he took, as if she were his possession to take and use at his will, was something she could only bow before and give herself in to totally.

He was not gentle. She could feel him hard through his pants as he held her against him, she totally naked and clinging onto him as if he were her only anchor, he holding her as if it were merely his right to take her as he pleased. He kept one hand at the back of her head, gripping hard in her hair and pulling down suddenly to tilt her head back, which in turn forced her to arch her back, leaving her entire naked body open and exposed to his view. His other hand, however, he moved now to her breasts, caressing them gently at first, as if testing out this new toy of his, then taking the left nipple between his fingers and squeezing.

She whimpered, not unafraid to cry out when it hurt, aware only that he was Jason, her Master, and the flicker of his smile at her soft cries was the only reason she needed to willingly give herself into this. She would surrender herself to his pleasure and whether that involved pain or pleasure for her, or whether she found herself too confused to tell between the two, seemed entirely irrelevant. Indeed, although it hurt, she could not help but feel somewhat disappointed when he moved his hand away from her breast again, and she frowned darkly when he did so. He caught her expression, however, and his eyes narrowed in warning, so that she gulped and looked down quickly, meekly, biting her lip.

Whilst that one hand still held her by the hair, the other he now let travel downwards over her stomach, slowly but with definite intent. She gasped as his fingers reached her sex, slowly slipping inside the outer lips and over her clitoris. She was so wet with desire and so overwhelmed by almost everything that she could not help but draw a quick, deep breath at the touch, her eyes flicking open wide as she felt herself suddenly close to the verge of orgasm merely from that light, soft, knowing touch alone.

“Not without permission, Charlotte,” a warning voice to her ear. She whimpered, trying to turn to look at him, but he still held one hand at the back of her head and did not let her do so.

“But… but Master, I don’t…” she breathed as his fingers continued to caress her slowly, softly, gently. Never before had she felt like this, never before had she come so close so soon, then found herself caught on that edge of orgasm, wanting only to tumble off, but held there fast by his skill and willpower alone.

She had been trying to say she didn’t understand what he meant about not without permission, but her words had got too caught up in the wetness between her legs.

“You do not cum without asking me first,” he told her and she knew it was no idle command from him. “You are only ever allowed to reach orgasm with my express permission and to do so without gaining such first is to invite real punishment. I will decide when and how often you are allowed to cum, my Charlotte, do you understand?”

Only too well. The very moment he told her no, she needed to more than ever. Fighting against it only made it worse, the need to cum was like she had never felt before, seeming to nearly consume her every sense as her body strove for just such release. She was desperate for it, every muscle aching and crying out for it. But not until he said. Even as he told her thus, his hand still stroked so wonderfully between her legs, his fingers slipping up inside her whilst his thumb remained upon her clitoris. His touch was gentle, for the moment, but possessive and his other hand held still held her firmly indeed by the hair.

“Please, Master?” she tried desperately.

“Please what, Charlotte?”

She swallowed hard, but was too close to orgasm already to care whether her face was bright red from embarrassment or sexual desperation. “Please may I cum, Master?” she asked him.

He leant his face close to hers and kissed her softly on the cheek, something she almost didn’t notice from her desperate distraction in trying not to orgasm until allowed.

“Not yet, my love,” he told her and she cried out with despair, so badly did she need to. She had not expected him to say no, she understood about having to ask, but she had not thought he would deny her what her body seemed to need so desperately.

“No! Master, I need to, I must…”

Within a flash, before the sentence was even completely out of her mouth, his hands were gone from her sex and from the back of her head and all of a sudden his open palm came down hard upon her arse, still so sore from the spanking before. She cried out in the shock and pain of it, tears springing automatically to her eyes as she took a staggered step forward to balance herself from the blow.

“I am your Master, girl. You do not make demands with me,” he snapped at her harshly and she gulped in sudden fear at the tone in his voice, knowing she had made him so angry, when all she actually wanted was to please him.

“I’m sorry Master, truly, please…” she tried, desperate to undo the mistake she had made. He only stood there, his lips pursed and not looking impressed.

“Do you put your own pleasure before that of your Master? Are you so concerned with your own bodily satisfaction that you would rebel against him?” he demanded to know and she shook her head quickly, her eyes pricking with tears.

“No, Master, no, it wasn’t like that, I promise,” she tried. “It won’t ever happen again. I’m sorry, Master. Please forgive me. Please.”

“No, it won’t happen again Charlotte,” he told her firmly. “Because I will make sure you are punished properly for your infractions. Now get down on your knees. For that impertinence, you will not be allowed to cum until I am good and ready to let you.”

She nodded meekly, dropping to her knees before him, her head down and her remorse clear. She lowered herself at his feet with respect and awe, but most of all love, knowing better than to challenge him by meeting his eyes directly, already too shamefully aware of the displeasure evident in his face. He was tall above her, unyielding and hard, and there seemed such strength to him, a power she admired to the point of worship, a power she only wanted to bow before and submit herself to.

She still wanted to cum of course and very badly so. But she would not, not until he said, not until he gave her that permission. No matter that it was still something of a shock to discover that the very moment she was denied the right to orgasm she wanted to more than ever before. She shifted where she knelt, but it only made her own unfulfilled ache worse.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered her and she quickly obeyed, clasping her hands behind her. Kneeling there naked before him, she was too frightened to turn her head when he stepped away, instead she strained with her ears to hear where he was going and what he may be doing. She kept her head down, looking only to the floor, not wanting to displease him further, but she listened hard to every movement, every step he made. He went to her wardrobe and rummaged about inside. When he came towards her once again, he approached from behind.

She felt his hands on her wrists, then something else, cloth, cord. Her heart raced as she realised he was tying her hands, and tightly too, and she whimpered just slightly as he pulled the cord firm. He payed her no attention, merely seeing to his work, the bindings around her wrists, which he tested by pulling on them until he satisfied himself there was no way she was escaping his knots. For there wasn’t. Her hands were tightly and irrevocably bound, she could not move them.

She felt vulnerable, incredibly vulnerable, tied like that. And so nervous she was trembling. She had no idea what he planned to do with her, but he had made sure that no matter what it was, she could certainly not resist. And yet, whilst she felt afraid, there was no true terror. She knew he would not hurt her. Though as her eyes unwittingly caught sight of her own belt left forgotten on the bed, she thought there may be pain, but she would still be safe, for he would always keep her safe.

It was the prospect of the unknown she trembled at, not knowing if he were angry enough to want to punish her again or if he had some other idea in mind entirely. All she knew was that whatever it was, she would submit to it utterly, for he was Master and such control was his. Kneeling there, naked before him, her hands bound tightly and her body shaking at the thought of what may be to come, she was entirely at his mercy. And that was the only way she would have it.

She shifted again, trying to ease the growing, aching, burning need inside her. Having been denied orgasm once, she was terrified at the prospect of not being allowed to at all, for her body cried out for it, for him, for this man she had known forever and now dedicated herself to. And the feeling of her hands bound tightly at his will, at being so totally within his control, only made her heat grow. She wanted to beg him for release, she wanted to beg him to touch her. Her thighs were damp with a wetness she could in no way control.

“Move towards the bed, sub,” he told her, his tone hard. “Kneel beside it and lean over it.”

She moved to obey immediately, shuffling forward the few steps, her balance thrown by not being able to use her arms. He did not help her, but only watched and waited as she moved awkwardly into the position he commanded her to, managing with some clear difficulty to lean over the bed with her knees still on the floor. With his foot he tapped the inside of her calves to indicate she should open her legs, which forced her to take almost her full weight on her torso on the bed, her legs spread wide and thighs glistening, her hands still tied tightly behind her back. So vulnerable, so open. He stood somewhere behind her, she couldn’t tell where, fully clothed and demanding and she trembled now to wonder what he was about to do.

“Hmmm. Tonight you are going to shave for me,” he told her darkly and she gulped, for her legs were already well shaven, as were her underarms, and so he could only mean one thing.

“Oh… Um, yes… yes Master,” she stammered, not knowing what else to say, wishing she could see him, but she could see little but what was directly in front of her and the bedclothes beneath her head. “Um, Master, do you mean…”

She heard him move, then felt him kneel down behind her, in between her spread legs. She stiffened, feeling the denim of his jeans against her bare legs and his hands upon her back. He traced them across her skin, down her arms, testing once again the bonds he had placed around her wrists. Then he let his hands travel lower, over her hips and around, slowly, to her inner thighs. She squirmed, trying not to move though she was desperate to push back against him. She was desperate for him. She gasped when one of his hands made its way up between her legs and gently slipped inside her pussy.

“Yes Charlotte,” he told her firmly. “I require you shaven at all times and presented well for me.”

She was breathing fast, could only nod for the moment. “I understand. I understand, yes.”

His fingers, gently exploring over her clitoris to the point where she had been desperately trying to think of anything else so as not to cum without permission, tightened suddenly. She squealed in sudden pain.

“Yes what, Charlotte?”

“Master! Yes Master!” she whimpered, his pinching hold on her most sensitive area a lesson learnt quickly. His fingers loosened and again became gentle, stroking her slowly once again.

“Hmmm. Do not forget again,” he warned her. She could only nod and gasp, trying so hard not to cum. Perhaps he knew that, for his fingers stopped and she ached for their return, for a release he had so far denied her, but then she heard a rustle of denim, felt movement right behind her as he shifted and undid the button fly to his pants.

She could not help but push back now when she felt him, his sex, his cock, at the entrance to her own body. She wanted him so badly, but he would not let her dictate events and kept himself there without entering her for the moment. It was maddening, desperately maddening, and yet she was also terrified she was so turned on that she would not be able to help cum the moment he entered her and she did not want to anger him. Yet he did not move and she was growing ever more desperate.

“Master, please…” she breathed, unable to help herself.

“You will learn, my Charlotte. Not until I say,” he reminded her firmly and she groaned in frustration. “I will use you for my own pleasure, whenever and however I desire, for I am your Master and that is my right. Whereas your pleasure is solely mine to dictate, to provide or withhold as reward or punishment, entirely as I see fit.”

“Yes Master,” she gulped, nodding quickly, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I… it’s never felt like this before…”

“That’s because I know best what you need, my Charlotte,” he told her, a little more gently. “You must trust me to make these decisions. And you should only concern yourself with pleasing your Master and seeing to his pleasure, not be thinking of your own.”

A deep breath, shuddering with desire and agreement. “I do Master,” was all she said, nothing more needed, it was simply the truth. It felt so good to give up such control into his hands, even when she knew she may well be denied everything her body was currently screaming out for.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he pushed a little closer into her body and she felt a flush of pleasure for the praise as much as she did from the physical desire to have him there. His hands were on her hips, but he moved them now to her shoulders, gripping her bound arms tightly as he pushed, finally, right inside her.

She uttered a low cry at his first thrust and she pushed back against him even as she fought hard not to cum. There was not a lot of scope for her to move, she was pushed hard against the bed, her legs forced apart by his own as he knelt behind her, her arms bound behind her and gripped by him, but she tried to respond as she could, to maximise his pleasure, even as she fought against her own.

He dictated the speed and ferocity with which they coupled and she found he could be infinitely gentle if he so desired it, but more often he was not, pushing into her firmly, deeply, sometimes roughly, making her gasp and lose herself entirely in the sensations of him. At one point he took hold of her hair, long and falling over her shoulders, wrapping it around his fist and holding her by it, pulling back her head firmly so that she was forced to arch her neck uncomfortably, yet the more he pulled, the more she loved it. She could not move her arms, they ached from the position they were tied in and her wrists chafed against the cord which bound them, but it didn’t matter, she only loved it the more and lost track of any desperate wonderings as to why or how she could feel such a way and just let herself feel it.

“Master, I… I’m sorry… please, please may I cum,” she breathed desperately, for she would not be able to help it soon, she knew it.

“Soon, Charlotte.” His voice was firm. She all but cried.

“Please, Master, I’m begging you,” she sobbed, not knowing whether it was pain or pleasure she was feeling and not caring, for she was hardly able to tell the difference between the two by this point anyway. His only response was to thrust into her harder and she felt him lean down, pulling back on her hair hard. His lips kissed her bare shoulder.

“Master enjoys your pain, my love, these tears you shed,” he murmured as he pushed into her harder now, faster. “Cum, my love. Cum for me now.”

She almost didn’t realise he had finally given her permission, it took a second before she could grasp his words properly, but when she did she could only let go, finally, finding the release she had for so long been so desperate for. Her body shook, muscles spasming, as for what was the first time since she had lost her virginity at age seventeen she actually orgasmed from penetration alone, and it did not merely last a few seconds, but seemed to continue on and on. Even as she thought the sensations were beginning to fade, she felt him reach his own climax, pumping inside her of her Master’s cum, and maybe it was that, or maybe she had simply misjudged her own body, but her body continued to plateau with his and she whimpered as her muscles shook with a further force, before finally, eventually, after what seemed like so long possessed by the force of his power, she was spent.

His hands, which had gripped her so roughly, were gentle now as he laid his chest against her back and his head on her shoulder and kissed her skin softly. He stroked her hair and they just lay there for a moment, he still inside her, she still bound, both of them exhausted. She realised her face was wet with tears, though she could not remember shedding them and for the moment she simply decided not to try and analyse her emotions or her situation, but simply accepted the here and now. Simply let herself acknowledge just how wonderful it felt, still in this uncomfortable position, but held safe in his arms, loved and protected and valued for who she was, who she truly was.

“I am proud of you, my love,” he said then, fondly, gently, with love. “You did so very well.”

Now she did feel the tears return, born of happiness, of love, of finally feeling like she had truly found her place in the world. Of knowing she had done well in his eyes, the only judge she wanted to ever acknowledge.

“Thank you Master,” she whispered, straining her head so she could turn it and meet his eyes. He smiled at her and kissed her again softly, before slowly moving, pushing himself up and then out of her. He was still mostly dressed, only his pants were around his thighs, and he hoisted himself up to the bed beside her with some evident weariness.

She did not move, because she couldn’t, she was still bound, and he leant over the moment he was by her side and undid the cords around her wrists gently, then helping her kneel up straight. He raised one of her hands and kissed her wrist where he had bound it, then the other, the red marks around each evidence of how tight she had been tied. She smiled to see those marks. She did not know why, but she was proud of them.

“First things first,” he said as he lay back on the bed. “Go get a cloth from your en-suite, sweetheart.”

She nodded and tried to stand quickly, then found her legs too shaky and had to reach out to steady herself. He only reached out to help her, looking very tired himself, but she found once she took her time to get the feeling back into her legs, she was okay. She did just as he had said, feeling sticky and sore and badly in need of cleaning herself, but she did not do that as yet, for she would see to him first. When she returned, she knelt herself down in front of him, cloth in hand, but hesitated unsurely before reaching out, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Good girl. Clean me up, Charlotte,” he told her with a nod and she did so, biting her lip in concentration as she gently used the cloth to clean over his balls, his cock, down over his thighs, being careful to do a thorough job. She looked up when she was finished, looking for approval from him. He only smiled from where he still lay back on the bed.

“Now go clean yourself up and return to me so I can hold you,” he told her and she grinned madly, this time able to jump up quickly without almost falling over and dashing into the en-suite to clean herself. On her return, he looked up and held one arm out to her and she climbed onto the bed beside him and cuddled up in his arms as they wrapped tightly around her.

They lay in silence for some time, he stroking her hair gently and simply holding her to him. She looked up after a little while and smiled impishly.

“I have bruises Master,” she declared somewhat mischievously. “On my backside. I looked in the mirror.”

He laughed. “I’ve never yet known a sub who doesn’t check for bruises, not to mention wear them proudly when she finds them. Even when they do derive from punishment,” he told her. “And so you should have bruises, my girl. It was a hard spanking I gave you, if deserved.”

“What’s a sub? You’ve called me that twice now.”

He chuckled and held her closer. “A submissive, Charlotte, which is you,” he said. “I’ll explain it all, love, but later. There is much for you to learn.”

She accepted that, surely curious, but never doubting his words and accepting patiently to wait until he felt the time was right. He shifted to his side, keeping his arms about her, so he could look directly at her and just gazed at her for some long moments in silence. She bit her lip, only returning his gaze, looking over the features of this man she had known since she was very, very young. A man she had always wanted to please and do well for, who she had always looked to for support and protection, even when she refused to allow anybody else to provide such for her. A man she had loved for what seemed all her life. And she was here, now, in his arms, naked beside him. Loved by him.

“I want you to tell me something Charlotte,” he said after a moment. “Answer completely honestly, I promise you won’t be punished no matter what you say. I just need to know your totally honest answer.”

“Yes Master?” she murmured. It occurred to her in the back of her head that she was already well used to calling him such, she didn’t even think of it now, it seemed only natural. That was who he was. She gave him that right. She gave him herself.

“Tell me why you think Richard left you. Tell me what you feel about it, here and now.”

She froze. It had been answering this question which had earned her the spanking to begin with. But he had promised he would not punish her, no matter what she said. He wanted to know truly, completely, honestly, and she wanted to tell him that she would not and could not lie to him, not even to avoid punishment, she could only ever be honest with him.

But it did make her stop and think, pause to reflect upon how she truly did feel. She was no longer upset, certainly. She was laying here in the arms of a man she had admired, idolised and loved almost all her life, a dream she hadn’t even dared to dream before, but which had now come true. So she could not feel sad for the loss of a relationship with another who had treated her so badly, as Richard had. Who had used her and abused her emotionally, if not physically.

Yet she could hardly feel good when forced to think on it, either. She took a breath, not wanting to answer, but she knew she had to.

“Uh… truthfully, he probably figured he could get no more out of me,” she said eventually, somewhat reluctantly. “He’d got all he could from our relationship, there was nothing left for him to take. He’d stripped me bare emotionally. And then he moved on.”

“You don’t say ‘I’. You no longer blame yourself?”

Her eyes widened. She had not been thinking of that at all, she had simply answered honestly, told him exactly how she was feeling, how she saw the situation. But it was true. She did no longer blame herself. That morning it had been all she could think of, the guilt, the despair at not having been good enough. But now there was simply sorrow she had let herself stay so long in such an emotionally abusive situation. There was no blame. There was no guilt. She felt at peace with it all.

“No Master,” she whispered. “I no longer blame myself.”

He pulled her closer and held her tight, kissing her head. “The guilt has gone?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. “I guess it’s… um, I feel as if I don’t need to judge myself now, Master. I feel like…. I know you will be my judge and if I am found wanting, you will decide upon appropriate punishment. So I don’t need to punish myself anymore.”

He moved one hand to her face, then tipped up her chin so she was looking straight at him. She could not hide her tears then and he wiped them away.

“Do you trust me Charlotte?” he asked her softly.

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you still want me to be your Master?”

She smiled and buried herself in his arms. His closed tightly around her and she knew he would always keep her safe. It would not be easy, learning these new things, learning this life which now called out to her. There would be difficult times, things he would want her to do which would scare her, things she wanted to do but for which he would not grant permission. Times when she would be punished for her mistakes. No, it would not be easy, but she would not have it any other way, either. There was a lot she wanted to discuss with him and she knew they would do that too, but for now she simply lay in his arms and knew for the first time in her life, she understood who she was, and why.

For the first time in her life, life itself began to make sense.

“Yes,” was all she answered, with a smile. “Master.”

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