A Paddle In Amsterdam

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Woman's journey from victim to mistress.
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Liverpool Airport

Her flight delay brought an intensity of panic not felt since that day six days earlier - since that moment she'd broken free.

Sitting in the Waiting Lounge, her body already sheathed in sweat from the terror that consumed her, her eyes never left the screen, focus solely on that one single word that seemed to sum up her life - delayed. Her panic quickly merged with anger; when she turned to her left to look out the window, she could see her plane, waiting to be boarded! - But when she looked towards the ground, she saw the men; workers crouched down by the wheel, laughing. Bastards! Didn't they know what they were doing to her? Didn't they know what he would do if he found her here? Her mind desperately pleaded with the men as one slowly jacked up the plane in anticipation of a tyre change... 'Hurry... please hurry! Don't let him find me, don't let him stop me from getting on that plane, please let me leave this life behind - let me leave him behind.' Vicious body shakes accompanied her sweats, both increasing in severity as more time passed, her empty stomach lurching with nausea. People surrounding her had moved, fearful of the peculiar looking woman with the plastic bags and ragged clothes. But she didn't care about them. All she cared about was the tyres on the plane and that burning need deep inside her that she finally felt compelled to release - she sat there, oblivious of her surroundings, her attention switching between plane and screen, willing for either the tyres or the word to change.

Moments felt like hours, minutes like weeks, but soon... sweet relief. The tyres were changed and, as the men gradually lowered the plane, the speaker system was announcing she could board. In that moment, her body went cold. Her panic had sent her temperature soaring as it squeezed sweat from her skin, but the instant she knew she could approach the steps that would lead her to her new life, she felt the chill of her perspiration - a visible expression of her fear. In the cold Liverpool air, she walked towards the plane releasing an uncontrollable laughter. People around her looked on, quietly praying they weren't going to be sat near her.

Flying

For Dawn Richards, the flight was a blur.

Sat at the back of the plane, she had only the reassuring smell of freshly disinfected toilets for company. Nobody approached her; nobody spoke to her (not even the Stewards, who seemed more determined than the passengers in wanting to give this strange woman a wide birth) but she didn't care. This was only her second time on a plane - and the first time had lead to an incident she was trying to forget - so she wasn't going to let the snobbery of others bother her.

Besides, Dawn Richards had finally done it. She was free.

With her body sinking into the chair, the last of the planes' wheels finally parted with the tarmac of the Liverpool runway; her new sense of freedom managing to find a comfort in the airplane chair rarely experienced by those in a more fortunate position. She melted away, her mind drifting outside the plane, gliding along on dark thunderous clouds. As she closed her eyes, she saw herself flying with the plane: smelling the crispness in the air; feeling the freezing wind as it tore through her body, ripping out her past and its horrors. She caught a glimpse of the Captain as he navigated his cargo to a new world - a world that held so much promise for Dawn. She saw streetlights below her, merging with the glares emanating from houses; all lit up like the intestines of something from a Sci-Fi Film. To Dawn Richards it was beautiful -so beautiful. Till this moment her life had been full of ugliness, but now, now she'd found her path to freedom.

As she slowly succumbed to exhaustion, Dawn Richards quietly wept, her salt tears caressing her smile.

Schippol Airport, Amsterdam

She'd been asleep only minutes but on hearing the Captain telling everyone they were approaching Amsterdam, her head jerked up - eyes open - fully rejuvenated.

She was ten minutes away.

Ten minutes.

She decided to use the time to focus her thoughts, clarify what she was going to do.

Firstly, she had to get to her hotel. She'd never been to Amsterdam before, and the only time she'd ever travelled abroad, it had been with him - and he'd done all the talking. (And all the drinking!)

Thankfully, her sister had told her what to do...

"Once you get through Passport Control (easy as long as you don't panic) and you've got your luggage, you need to get a train ticket for 'Centraal Station'. The Airport and the Train Station are all under one cover, and everyone speaks English, so you'll easily be able to get your ticket and find your Platform. Tickets are about 3 Euros. When buying, just ask for Centraal Station, One Way, and what platform.

"When you're on the Platform, you'll be amazed - the trains are double-deckers! Get on a top floor - you'll never do it in England! Anyway, you'll have about a 20-minute ride through various towns and industrial estates before you come to your final stop - 'Amsterdam Centraal'. When you leave the station, there'll be loads of taxis waiting outside. Just climb in one, tell him the name of the hotel and enjoy!"

Anxiously waiting for the wheels to connect with the ground, Dawn Richards remembered these words with vivid clarity. In her pocket she held a card with the Hotel's name written on it - her sister had given it her on leaving, telling her it would be easier to show a card than try and pronounce Dutch. She had to thank her Sister for a hell of a lot. She'd had not only saved Dawn from him (by hiding her in the basement every time he came looking for her) but she'd also insisted that Dawn visit "the Dam" and find herself. Her insistence had been so strong she'd even bought the tickets and booked the hotel. Her sister had told her that if she was going to be free, she might as well do it in the freest cities in Europe.

Her sister had told her of all the places to visit: The Red Light District, the Coffee Houses and the Sex Shops. Her sister was a regular visitor with her husband, using Amsterdam's liberty as a means of access to their own sex life. Many a time Dawn had been shocked by the toys her sister had brought back and demonstrated for her...Studded Dildos, Nipple Clamps and even Anal Starter Kits! But there was one thing that had intrigued rather than shocked. Dawn knew she should have been fearful of it - after all, he'd used similar devises on her before - but when her sister held it, gently stoking the dark leather, brushing her fingers over the handle, before bringing it down on the palm of her hand with such force that Dawn still winced when remembering the sound, she couldn't help but feel fascinated.

Dawn felt a warm glow flow through her as she recalled the image of the paddle.

She remembered the noise it made as it struck her sister's hand, the grimace on her face as pain and pleasure combined, her delightful groan as she slowly licked the palm, quietening the welt of crimson that had emerged there. Something surged through Dawn's body. Her legs became weak and there was lightness in her stomach. She needed privacy to come to terms with what she was feeling but the Seat Belt lights had just been turned on - she was supposed to 'remain seated during descent'. But she had to do something. Looking down towards the end of the plane, she could see the Stewards belted in, happily chatting away to themselves. They wouldn't notice her. She was next to the toilets, she could just sneak in and wash her face in cold water, take a breather. Prepare herself...

Nobody would notice.

Undoing her seatbelt, she crouched forward, eyes firmly fixed on the Stewards. Neither were looking at her. Now was her chance. Quickly, with a light stumble, she collapsed into the Toilet, struggling to close the door behind her spraying legs. For a moment she sat in frozen silence - the worst thing she could do was get herself thrown off a plane and deported at her first attempt at freedom...her sister would die with embarrassment, but worse still, she would be sent back to him...

Nothing.

Either the Stewards hadn't seen her or they weren't bothered. Straightening herself, she leaned against the chrome sink, trying to relax, ignoring her reflection. At first she thought she was going to vomit - the smell of disinfectant combined with that of someone else's faeces was almost too much to bear - but instead she dowsed herself with cold water, bathing her head and neck - trying to regulate her breathing. Sitting on the broken seat, she contemplated what the hell had just happened.

"Must be the excitement", she reasoned. It seemed logical enough - she was starting a new life - but there was something else, something had aroused her, brought about sensations long forgotten.

The paddle.

Instantly the warmth shot through her body, reaching from her head, past her breasts down through her stomach into her legs before returning and residing behind her knickers.

"What the hell's wrong with me?" Her thoughts had found a voice but there was no one to answer. Instead her body spoke, the warmth at the top of her legs intensifying. She quickly pulled down her skirt and flimsy white cotton knickers, assuming she needed to urinate but nothing happened. She tried to think of a waterfall or a dripping tap but instead her mind would only focus on the paddle and the echo it created when hitting flesh.

She didn't know why she had to do this, but she knew it was the only way this was going to end - opening her legs, she slowly moved her right hand over her damp pussy - brushing her index finger against the hardening nub of her clit whilst parting her hair, furtively searching for the wetness inside. As her fingernail gently scratched the tip of her most sensitive area, a power bolt of pleasure ripped through her, dislodging her from the toilet seat. Her breathing grew sharp as she intensified her fingering. Her left hand repeatedly slapped hard against her naked thigh, the crimson palm print deepening the joyful sensations rushing through her body. She rubbed harder against her clitoris, inserting more fingers inside: two, quickly followed by three, then four! The deep heat pulsating from her pussy her told her the orgasm was moments away...

Welcome to Amsterdam

Amsterdam - Bulldog

Sitting in her luxurious hotel room, Dawn Richards thought once again about what had happened on the plane - her first moments in Amsterdam, and she'd spent it in a plane toilet, masturbating over a paddle. Admittedly, it was the first time she'd had an orgasm in years, and no doubt that if she told her sister she would simply laugh it off, getting some kind of kick out of it, but it worried Dawn.

Was it normal? Was she a pervert? For an hour, Dawn contemplated these thoughts. Stepping into the shower, she looked at the parts of her body that had caused her to blush when leaving the plane lavatory. No one had noticed her returning so there was no need to feel any shame. But standing in the shower, looking at the slight bruise her slaps had given her on her thighs, Dawn wasn't so sure.

When unpacked and dressed, she contemplated her next move. It was 10 O'clock at night - early for Amsterdam. Here she was, sat on the end of the bed in a strange hotel room in a strange city, questioning herself. Anger consumed her. Why should she feel embarrassed? This time last week she was sleeping with a man who'd used her anus as a pencil sharpener. If there was anything to feel embarrassed about, having a wank on a plane wasn't one of them - all the film stars claimed to have joined the mile high club, this was just her own version. Pulling herself together, she decided she was going out - she wanted to know what freedom truly felt like.

The first thing that hit her was the smell. Her hotel wasn't too far from Leidsplein, a busy district about a mile from the Red Light Area, and a place notorious for booze, food and hash. Dope hung on the air, eager for new customers. Walking down the cobbled street, her white blouse and red flowing skirt little protection against the cold November wind, Dawn decided she wanted to taste that smell. Her sister had given her a guidebook at the Airport and pulling it from her handbag she discovered the best place to go for a first timer... The Bulldog.

Situated in the main square of Leidsplein, in-between the Sky Sports Bar and a high quality hotel, the Bulldog was one of a branch of Hash Houses ideally suited for dope connoisseurs of all kinds. Upstairs was situated a bar - decorated in bright red, deep coloured satins and housing people who either preferred beer as their tipple of choice or had got the munches. Downstairs...was a dungeon. Dimly lit with dark wooden tables and a stone floor, this was where people obtained their various types of dope: fags; cakes; mash... all were available at a reasonable price - all very popular. As Dawn precariously made her way down the steps and crossed the dungeon's threshold, she knew she'd finally passed into another world.

*

Despite the dope, despite the beer and despite the lack of sleep, Dawn was feeling pretty damn good. Since entering the Bulldog, she'd had four beers, two cakes, three fags and a sip of a gentleman's milkshake - not bad for someone who rarely drank and had never tasted dope.

He'd never let her have any fun!

Lying on her hotel bed, she pushed the thought of him aside and thought only of the night's events - except everything was a blur. She knew she'd been talking to someone - an English woman who had recognised her naivety and helped her with her choice of narcotic - and she knew she'd met some English men, because they'd told her about such marvellous things... the women in the Red Light District and what they could do for 50 euros - and the other coffee shops: she seemed to remember one called 'The Grasshopper' and being recommended anything from the third floor - but there was something else. She was sure it was the Englishman who'd given her some milkshake in exchange for a kiss, something she readily agreed to - but the more she thought of things, the harder the were to remember.

Looking out of her window, watching the brilliant light of the early dawn spread its wealth over the land, Dawn climbed into bed, a smile on her face as she remembered the previous hours events.

So this was what it felt like to be free.

Amsterdam - Discovery

Sex Museum.

Her sister had mentioned it in passing, and the kissable lad from the previous night had highly recommended it - it was the something that she'd been trying to remember when falling asleep...visit the Sex Museum.

*

She wasn't sure about this. Walking down Damrak, Amsterdam's busiest street as it led straight from Centraal Station to Dam Square - the hub of the city - Dawn contemplated whether she was making the right move. She wanted to be free but did that mean doing things she wasn't sure about? Reasoning that as long as no one got hurt, then it was worth a trip, another step on her journey and besides, if she didn't like it she could easily walk away. She found the subtly hidden museum behind a restaurant. She was surprised at how quiet it was. Paying her 10 Euros, she entered...

Within minutes, she was bored. It was all the same... masks, porn, vibrators, pissing, animals and more porn. None of it interested her - admittedly it shocked her, but she was by no means 'turned on' by the experience like the lad had promised her she would. What was it he'd said? "Someone like you will get a real damp patch in that place... there's one section..." What the hell did he mean by that, and where was that section? So far, she'd been round most of the building and the only thing she'd found mildly erotic was the 18th Century section which showed men and women doing things the Victorians had claimed never existed! But he'd been so certain...

Suddenly she knew. Walking through the door, she saw the wooden paddle hanging on the wall, leather whip close by. S and M. Entering, her eyes were swamped with images... whips, chains, belts, photos of people being spanked, red skin, welts, pain! It was all there to see but there was an over-riding factor... pleasure. They were all happy! Every photo - no matter how staged - showed someone receiving a smack and getting shear, naked ecstasy out of it! Dawn felt weak. The joy she was witnessing in the photos hit her hard, making her sway... she was experiencing everything the women on the receiving ends of those whacks was experiencing. It was amazing. Her mind was absorbing everything, taking in all she could see, storing it for later...

She had to get out. Running to the toilets, she slammed herself into a cubicle. Not caring if anyone heard her, she tore at her knickers, pulling them past her ankles. Sitting down, she reached for her handbag, her hand clasping on the one thing that might come close to offering a relief... her flat-backed hairbrush.

Parting her vulva, she stroked her erect clit, feeling the electric sensation course through her body...taking the handle of the hairbrush she plunged it deep inside, using it as a makeshift dildo. Quickly and violently she brought herself to orgasm, only removing the hairbrush at her moment of climax so she could bring the handle down hard against the side of her thighs, just short of her slim white arse.

Twice she'd cum in Amsterdam; twice she'd used a makeshift paddle.

Sitting in a cubicle deep inside the Sex Museum, Dawn Richards made another monumental decision about her life. Pulling her knickers up, she left the cubicle, chatting to the attractive yet bemused woman washing her hands.

Amsterdam - Six Years Later

The number six was important to Dawn Richards.

She moved to Amsterdam six days after leaving her abusive husband of six years, she found a job six days after arriving and she found a flat in the Jordaan District six weeks after starting her job.

Her flat was number six.

And now, six years after touching down at Schippol Airport, Dawn Richards and the kissable man from the Bulldog...

*

"You're late."

"Sorry but I had to..."

"Quiet!"

"Sorry."

"When I say quiet, I mean quiet. I don't mean 'keep on talking', or 'reply to questions never asked,' and I certainly don't mean 'disturb my class!'"

Dawn remained silent, not wanting to upset the man anymore. He stood at the front of the class, demanding respect from all those who sat in his presence. It had been like that in the Bulldog, that night six years ago... whenever he spoke, everyone hung on to his every word - male of female, it didn't matter - all seemed to be grateful to be in this man's presence.

"You've done this before, and I've warned you time and time again what would happen..."

"I know, but..."

"Shut up! That's it... I've warned you and you've done nothing but flaunt my authority! Now you'll pay - come here!" Watching the expectant faces of the class, she slowly approached, head bowed. They'd done this before, but each time this scenario appeared she was apprehensive - scared even. Sometimes he could go to far, take her pain beyond pleasure, but then other times...

She watched as he opened the draw, revealing the leather paddle - her face flushed when she saw a guy's face close to where she stood - his mouth open in shock and anticipation - she wanted to smile and reassure him...but that wasn't part of the game.

"Lift your skirt and bend over the table." It was said so matter of fact, but this time there was something different - why hadn't he told her to remover her knickers? It was what they had arranged, but suddenly things had changed..."Do you want me to take my panties off," she asked, her voice a mixture of fear and coyness.

"Did I say take your panties off? No I did not - so please, for once, do as your told!"

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