Novice Takes the Belt

The knock at the hotel room door startles me out of my daydream, and I stand up quickly. I am unsure of how events are going to pan out, but am relieved that you have arrived, I had been fearful that you would back out, let your nerves overwhelm you.

I open the door, seeing what you look like for the first time, and you blush deeply as I take my time appraising you. As the seconds tick by you lower your head to avoid my gaze, and I smile to myself, gone already is the confident woman I have chatted to online, gone is the woman who only ten minutes before had been in the office, the boss of all around her. Now you stand there meek and ashamed. Eventually I stand aside and instruct you to enter the room, go to the bathroom, strip, hang your clothes on the back of the door, put on the robe that is there and come back into the room.

As I wait, I pour two glasses of water from a bottle in the fridge and listen to the slight sounds of you moving in the bathroom. After a few minutes, you have not reappeared, and I open the bathroom door slowly and find you sitting on the edge of the bath, in the robe, head down looking at the floor, your hands white where you are gripping the side of the bath so hard.

I want to reassure you, to talk to you, but I know I need to take control and force you into the situation you crave, I cannot allow you to over think the situation, to frighten yourself out of it. If I do, you will never come this far again.

Finger by finger, I loosen your grip on the bath, and holding your hands, I force you to your feet and lead you into the main room. I position you in front of the full length mirror and move to stand close behind you. My foot moves between yours, and slowly I apply pressure till you move one leg to the side, now standing with your legs slightly open.

I know you have only been with one man before, your husband, and then always in bed with the lights off, so what you know is coming next fills you with dread. I consider reaching round and opening your robe myself, but I want you to do it, I want you to show yourself to me. I whisper in your ear, telling you what I want, and I watch as your reflection blushes once more as you nervously start to untie the belt of the robe.

Inch by inch the material parts, exposing first your cleavage, then the roundness of your breasts and the pinkness of the hard nipples, until finally the bottom half of the robe opens and the fine golden hair between your legs is displayed in the mirror for me to see. In the mirror, I look you directly in the eye as I cover your hands with mine and open the robe further, pulling it off your shoulders till I force you to let it drop to the floor.

I know we are not here for sex, but I want you so much at that moment, exposed and vulnerable in front of me, naked and beautiful. Taking a step back from you, I hold you by the shoulders and force you to lean back into me, all your weight now supported by me. My fingers run lightly from your shoulders down your arms, so slight a touch I feel a shiver run through you. As my hands move to your stomach and inch up towards you breasts, I again whisper in your ear.

"Why did you come here today, Claire, what do you want to happen now? "

"You know what I want, god you know what I want."

As my hand reaches your breasts, I take your nipples between by fingers and thumb, and start to squeeze "Tell me again, Claire, Tell me why you have come to me today." Your breathing becomes heavier, as you start to feel the pressure on your nipples get harder. "I want to be hurt Sir, I want to be hurt, and degraded, and humiliated by you Sir."

I feel your whole body relax as you say the words, as if by voicing them out loud you have dispelled the nerves of the situation, and now only have the anticipation and excitement in your thoughts. Harder still on your nipples I pinch, "You want to be hurt, Claire, you want to be degraded, you want it or you need it?"

Your voice has a tremble to it as I begin to twist your nipples "I need it Sir, please Sir I need it."

"Good Girl. We cannot do everything today, Claire, but we will make a start. I am going to give you what you crave, Claire, I am going to take my belt to your arse and your breasts, and maybe to your pussy. If at any point it gets more than you can handle your safe word will be Red and I will stop. Other than that I will ignore tears or cries to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand."

With that, I move you so your hands are on the wall, either side of the mirror, leaning forward, your arms stopping you from falling forward. Now I can see your face as each strike of the belt lands, and so can you.

Stepping back I remove my belt, thick, leather and heavy and fold it in two in my hand. I can see your eyes watching me in the mirror and I tell you that I am going to hit you in groups of four, three light but quick and the fourth hard. I see you nod your head and move to your side to begin.

As promised the first three to your arse are light, I know they will not hurt much, a mild sting, but I hear you moan, a moan of years of need finding release. As your moan quietens I strike for the fourth time, so much harder. The belt makes a crisp crack as it lands across both cheeks of your arse, followed by a scream from you as your knees buckle and you fall to the floor. I leave you to rub your arse for a second, before taking a grip on your hair and forcing you back to your feet.

"Get back in position now, you still have four sets of four to come and I will not wait all day for you."

A sob escapes your lips as you once again stretch out your arms and lean against the wall. The second you are in position, the next three land, again light but directly on the mark left by your first heavy stroke. Another muffled cry comes from you but changes to a full wail, as the belt lands hard again on your arse, even though I have made sure to avoid the previously hit area. Again you fall to the floor and again I allow you a moment before dragging you up.

The next set of three land on the red mark indicating where I have just hit you, and the fourth hard one lands directly on the spot where the first heavy blow struck.

You crumple to the ground once more, and the tears start to flow as your hands rub your painful arse. I leave you there and move to collect the two glasses of water from the table. Once I have taken a sip, I carry one glass back and stand behind you, waiting for you to get up.

Eventually you rise, and I tell you to turn and face me and then offer you the drink.

This is the first time I have looked directly on your naked front, and I make a point of examining you, inspecting your breasts and pussy as you drink. The former embarrassment seems to have gone, and now you almost revel in displaying yourself to me.

I stand directly in front of you and look you directly in the eye, as I move my hand to your pussy. I see you blush again as I discover how wet you are. I tell you to keep drinking slowly till I tell you to stop, and as the glass goes back to your mouth I take one of your pussy lips between my fingers and start to squeeze and pinch. I smile as your spare hand grabs my arm as the pain makes you rise up onto the tips of your toes, and I see the glass move away from your mouth as you cry out, spilling water down yourself.

My fingers release you and the tears come as the pain increases swiftly as the blood runs back in to your lips. I move my fingers to your clit, making sure I have a good grip on it. "No please sir, not my clit, that will be too much, please don't."

"You stopped drinking, Claire, this is your punishment. Now I am going to squeeze your clit hard, and as I do you are going to count out loud to fifteen, and between each number you will say the word Sir. If you lose your place or pause during it, I will tell you and you will go back three numbers and continue counting. I will not release you till we get to fifteen. Do you understand?"

"Please don't, Sir, I am sorry I stopped drinking, I can't do this, Sir."

"Start the count, Claire."

I begin to squeeze your clit between my fingers and thumb, and hear you quietly start to count. One Sir, Two Sir, Three Sir..

You collapse against me, holding on to me, your face buried in my neck, but still the count continues, ragged and slow. I know you are struggling and in severe pain, so I ignore a slight pause on seven and slowly we reach fifteen. As I release your clit I feel your knees go weak, and you begin to sob uncontrollably. I hold you to me, stopping you from collapsing, and keep you there, as I feel the tears fall on my neck, soaking my collar.

The sobs running through your entire body eventually subside and I relax my grip on you, till you are standing freely in front of me. I take both your hands, lifting them till they are on top of your head, and step back, once more reaching for the belt.

"You still have two sets of four left, Claire, and I am going share them between your arse and your breasts. You may not move until both sets are complete, or we will start again, we will start with your breasts."

I take a step back and look at you, your face smeared with mascara from your tears, some spots on your breasts where the tears have fallen there too. Lifting the belt, I strike your right breast, making sure to hit the nipple as I do. It was harder than the previous light strikes to your arse, and you groan from the sting once more. Immediately I repeat the action on your left breast before striking for the third time from the side, connecting with both breasts. The fourth strike also is from the side, and is the hardest blow yet. You scream and take a step back, but manage to correct yourself and remain where you were. Already your breasts are turning red from the belt, and I wish to myself that I had said we would do more to them.

With two paces, I am stood behind you, and almost before you know it, three strokes of the belt have landed. I pause, with one last blow remaining. I can see you trembling as you know there is one more to come, one hard one. I move my arm, the belt whipping through the air, landing hard across both cheeks, a loud slap as it connects. Your back arches and your head snaps back, as you scream in agony from the blow.

I throw the belt onto the bed and walk to the table to get my drink. I turn and watch you, struggling to come to terms with the pain you are feeling, struggling to resist the urge not to move your hands to rub your marked arse.

Putting the glass down, I instruct you to drop to your hands and knees and to come and kneel in front of me. I grin as I watch your breasts sway below you, as you slowly advance, unable to look at me as I smile. When you reach me I tell you to stay on your knees, but face away from me and put your head on the floor. As you move into this position your arse is raised to me, and your cheeks open, exposing your hole to another person for the first time. I take a couple of pieces of ice from my drink, and leaning forward begin to run them over the marks on your arse. A low sigh escapes your lips as the cold and wet soothes your pain.

Looking at you there I cannot resist, and I move one cube of ice to your arse hole. Immediately you tense, but after a second I feel you relax and I keep the ice there, pressing against you. With one hand I rub your arse, soothing you, and slowly with the other I force the cube inside you, making you take something there for the first time.

When the ice on your marks has melted, I stand, walk to the bathroom and begin to draw a bath for you, making sure it is not too hot. I then walk back to you, bend down and pick you up in my arms. I carry you to the bath, and slowly lower you into it. Gently and quietly I bathe you, bringing you back to a normal state.

When you are clean and relaxed, I lift you out of the bath and dry you with a towel before taking your clothes off the hook and slowly dressing you back into your office suit. When you are fully dressed, I lead you to the hotel room door, open it and walk you into the corridor. I cannot resist a quick kiss before I step back into the room, the door closing behind me.

Twenty minutes later I hear my phone alert me there is a text. I pick it up and it is from you. "Thank you, Sir. I do not know how I feel now that I am back at my desk. Elated, confused, ashamed, turned on. I think this afternoon will be a struggle. May I call you later - to talk?"

"Anytime you need to, Claire, just call. And thank-you too - you were perfect."