Spotlights Ch. 01-02

The rest of the cropping passed in a blur to Jenny: it was painful beyond description, especially when a new blow overlapped with an old. Peter rushed through the final six, however, keeping her nerves numb to reduce the pain. When he finished, every part of her bottom was firmly marked and all his anger and disappointment had dissolved. He gently reassured Jenny, saying: "Slave, your punishment is finished. You are forgiven. The slate is wiped clean. ... I love you."

Peter kissed Jenny's forehead, wiped tears, dribble and snot from her face with a soft towel and removed the gargoyles from her nipples. The fresh pain made her whine but he gently massaged her breasts and she was soon quiet again. Peter left her to weep and recuperate. She would remember this punishment for certain; and, despite her pain and humiliation, Jenny felt a sense of satisfaction.

Having poured two glasses of water, Peter was filling a tub with ice-cubes when the buzzing safe-toy alerted him to the needs of his slave. He rushed over to Jenny and released her mouth from the gag.

"What is it, Slave?"

"Nothing, Master, I just dropped the buzzer."

"Very well. Can you stay as you are for a little while?"

"Yes, Master."

"Hold still, then."

Peter fetched the ice-cubes and slowly began rubbing them on Jenny's bruises. She gasped at first from the cold touch but relaxed when it began to ease her pain.

Some minutes later, Peter plastered soothing lotion thickly onto Jenny's bottom. It stung a little and she did not even like the gentle touch of his hands but the ointment also began to work its magic. She felt a heat in her whole body, smothering the aches on her nipples and her throbbing bottom, giving her a new ache centred on her pussy.

Undoing Jenny's ankle and wrist straps, Peter helped her stand upright and step out of her skirt and thong. The glistening of her labia evidenced Jenny's reaction to the punishment. Peter had also reacted strongly to her punishment, with the strain of an erection that demanded attention. As a conscientious Master, however, he knew he would have to contain himself until the needs of his vulnerable slave had been met.

Jenny stood still, held warm and tight in Peter's arms, feeling protected and safe, even though it was he who had just been whipping her. She also realised how strong her sexual desire had become.

Peter whispered in her ear, "Do you need a release, Slave?"

Oh, God, how she needed it! Jenny thought to herself but she could not speak, she could only nod, her eyes cast down at the floor. She marvelled at how well Peter could read her; and she marvelled even more at her own wantonness, needing an orgasm after such a beating.

Peter kissed her deeply for a while, supporting her with one hand on her back, fondling a breast with his other hand. Then he lowered that hand to her soaking pussy and penetrated her with two fingers. She adjusted her stance to give him better access and instinctively began thrusting her hips. His mouth was now on her breast, which he greedily sucked as he rubbed her g-spot, his thumb flicking over her clitoris. He licked around her nipple for a minute or two as his fingers in her pussy got her moaning. Then he sucked harder and thrust his fingers faster. Jenny groaned in ecstasy and quickly climaxed, her body shaking and her knees buckling. She leant on Peter's shoulder gasping "Oh! God, Master, thank you, thank you!"

Peter released her breast from his mouth and stood to hold her upright.

"You're welcome, Slave, though you seem to have made a mess on the floor."

Jenny often gushed like a fountain. Peter would not let her be embarrassed about it but gave her his orders:

"Slave, you must clean this up first: I don't want you to slip up on a wet kitchen floor. The dinner is in the oven. You are to check if it is ready but not to take it out of the oven in your present state. I don't want you burned. You are to make the salad and set the table. Do you want to keep your dangerous shoes on?"

"No, Master."

"Then remove them." She did so, with Peter helping her step down.

"I won't replace your gag but if Sam drops in, you are to use gestures to invite her to stay: you may not talk to her."

Jenny had forgotten about Samantha's visit. Here was a problem. Undressed as she was, Jenny would not answer the front door but Samantha would see the lights on and might come around the back. Peter could see that Jenny was agitated by this thought and also possibly excited by it. He resolved to think some more about what this meant later.

A last kiss for her and he went for his shower and to change for dinner. In the bedroom, he wrote a note and stuck it to the mirror on Jenny's dressing-table, just in case he forgot to tell her later. It read 'Sam and David Harding here for dinner, Saturday night, 7pm. Love, Peter'.

**********

Chapter TwoA Friday night session

When Peter returned, the dinner table was set, Jenny's papers were cleared away, candles lighted, wine opened and the salad glistened in its bowl. Jenny was kneeling in her submissive posture, waiting for his orders. Peter said: "Slave, do you think you can sit or would you prefer to kneel?"

"I prefer to kneel, Master" she replied, so Peter fetched the long footstool and a cushion from the lounge and moved them to her place at the table. Then he collected the dinner from the oven. When they sat, Peter thanked Jenny for laying the table and approved her choice of wine but made no other comment; nor did Jenny have anything to say as they ate. They were both famished. When they had done eating, however, Peter asked Jenny to tell him about her day.

Peter noticed some reticence in her voice as she began to explain how she had worked all morning on her project, but soon her enthusiasm for her work overcame whatever had been holding her back and she was her usual animated self.

"My friend Sam is interested in Lumenite. She is in business and sits on the boards of several companies, one of which may buy so much Lumenite it would need to be mass-produced. Sam telephoned this morning to ask if she could visit to discuss the deal."

"I said 'Yes', then realised I needed to shop for tonight's dinner, so I made a quick trip to the supermarket and a few minutes after I got back, Sam arrived. We spent the rest of the morning discussing the project. Then, after she left for a meeting, I worked on it all afternoon. I am sorry I left the coffee cups and the groceries out and did not prepare for our usual Friday, Master."

"I understand what distracted you, Jenny, and you have already been forgiven."

Jenny continued:

"One of the companies Sam advises is a conference centre having a re-launch. Sam thinks Lumenite lighting could be the centre-piece of the new design, but I first have to work out how to make sheets of Lumenite large enough to go on fifty-foot walls as a television screen or as strip-lights for miles of corridors. The main exhibition room will have a Lumenite ceiling. This is Sam's idea. Clouds will float across it, the sun would rise and set and the stars will come out. It will be wonderful; but I wracked my brains all afternoon trying to find a better solution than acres of unreliable wiring."

Here Jenny stopped and hung her head.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" Peter asked. "You can say anything you want to me, even if it is a reproach. The slate is clean. Please go on."

Collecting her thoughts, Jenny tried to explain:

"Peter, I was so happy, so elated, to think I would be mass-producing Lumenite and that I could give the contract to Culpepper's, that it might help you. It distracted me from my duties and made me think that anything I did would be all right with you. I thought the project was more important than anything."

"Jenny, Lumenite is brilliant and I fully understand why it absorbed you. I am more proud of you than I can say. The last thing I want you to think is that I punished you for being happy. If ever there is a choice between your happiness and the rules of our relationship then I say the rules can go to hell. I want you happy, Jenny."

"No, Master!" Jenny protested, genuinely shocked. "I was only crying because one small happiness made me thoughtless of you and because you might think I am making excuses for my behaviour."

New tears threatened but she controlled her voice.

"Please don't ever ask me to give up serving you. My work gives me pleasure but my obedience to you gives me real contentment, real serenity. I need a deeper happiness in my life than mere success in business. I need something that ... I don't know how to say it ... that speaks to my essence, that really is me, through and through. I found it and I will never give up being your slave, Master."

Jenny said this with such firm conviction that Peter could only bow his head in acceptance. He kissed her hand.

Jenny continued:

"I worked through the afternoon and at about five o'clock, Sam phoned. She proposed a business partnership: she will provide the money and hire a manager to run the business and I will solve the problem of making Lumenite in large sheets. Sam said she had a plan whereby we would own our own factory to make Lumenite but she would not give me the details. You know I always assumed Culpepper's would make the product. I didn't get the chance to say so, but I invited Sam to visit this evening, so we could discuss it. Here I was wrong again, Master: I ignored our Friday night custom."

"I am also to blame, Jenny: we have had few Friday night sessions lately."

"Then Sam and I just chatted about stuff. Nonsense really. Just high-spirits. We discussed what we would spend our profits on; what kind of furniture we'd have in the office; and whether we wanted pretty young secretaries to distract clients in our favour or drab efficient ones because they are more professional. We were having a good giggle about it when you came home" Jenny said, looking down.

They remained silent for a few minutes, each absorbed in thought. Peter decided he must now tell Jenny his news.

"I know Lumenite will be a success, Jenny, but please don't worry about giving Culpepper's the manufacturing contract. By the time you are ready to start production, Culpepper's will no longer exist."

"Oh! Peter, is it that bad?"

"I found out this evening from Horace, who failed to charm that frigid bitch from the bank. With the cash crisis, the next payroll will be the last."

"I am so sorry, Peter. You were right to be angry with me for being so frivolous with that weight resting on your shoulders."

"No, Jenny. I have no right to take my problems out on you. ... However, I notice you've stopped calling me 'Master'."

She turned an anxious look to him but relaxed when she saw his smile.

"I am here for your use, Master;" she said: "your problems should be my problems."

"Very well, then, Jenny: you can have my problems. You are the brains of this outfit, anyway, so I am relying on you to save Culpepper's and the jobs of twenty-five people."

"I will think about it, Master," she said seriously. "Perhaps I'll ask Sam. One of the companies she advises can arrange a bridging loan and then, when we get the conference centre contract, I will insist that Culpepper's produces Lumenite."

"Good plan. Your Sam sounds like an enterprising woman. I look forward to meeting her; and not only because you said she is 'very beautiful'. It is curious, however, that she has not arrived yet."

Sam's absence had indeed been puzzling Jenny.

"I hope you will meet soon, Master," she said with genuine conviction. "I am certain you two will hit it off. I think you'll like her as much as me."

"I hope so, too. In the meantime, how ready are you for tonight's session because I have a powerful need to start soon?"

"As you wish, Master."

"Then go and prepare our bed and wait for me."

Jenny complied happily. She attached rope ties to the corners and side feet of the bed, laid her usual gag, blindfold and all the whips, paddles and floggers they owned on the bed, took off her remaining clothes and knelt beside the door in her submissive posture.

Peter cleared away the dinner things, set the dishwasher going and, with a clearly aroused sense of expectation, carried the soothing lotion and a tub of ice-cubes to the bedroom. He kissed the top of Jenny's head as he passed her on his way to the bed, where he plonked down the lotion and the ice-cubes. He chose the softest leather flogger, Jenny's pink ball-gag and a length of rope, pushing the other items onto the floor. Then Peter called Jenny to him. She knelt down beside the bed. He inserted and fastened the ball-gag and ordered her to go on all fours on the bed, pushing her bottom in the air.

He performed the soothing ice and lotion treatment as before. Jenny appreciated it just as much. It had the same sexually stimulating effect on her. This time, far from allowing her a release, however, Peter expressly forbade Jenny to have an orgasm until he said so. His plan was to drive Jenny to distraction. This was her favourite way of submitting to him and the most delicious kind of torture she endured at his hands.

Peter had Jenny lie flat on her belly. He tied her arms and legs to the corners of the bed and increased the tension on the ropes until she was nicely stretched. He checked the buzzer worked and put it in her right hand. Then he began with the flogger, starting at her calves, working up her body (ignoring her bottom and the small of her back) until he reached her shoulders. This was just to warm her up. There was an occasional slight sting but no real pain. The flogger none the less had an effect Jenny found exquisite: it sharpened her senses, as if her nerve endings were stripped bare, making her extra sensitive to further flogging and to the gentle touches of his hands, lips and tongue, with which he alternated the floggings.

Her senses tingled as Peter rubbed the soothing lotion onto her bottom and over her shoulders, back and thighs. Then he started with the flogger again, harder this time, turning her skin pink and eliciting urgent moans and gasps. More soothing massage followed, then stronger flogging, until Jenny thought she'd go mad with frustrated desire. She shut her eyes tight to concentrate on resisting the ache rising in her, while her gasps and sighs so aroused Peter that he struggled to stop himself ravishing her then and there.

When Jenny's breathing slowed and low moans issued from deep in her throat, Peter let her gently glide back into normal awareness. He kissed the back of her neck and untied her, allowing her five minutes to recover from the stretch and rub away any constrictions from the ropes.

Peter next turned Jenny over, put a pillow under the small of her back and bent her knees so she rested on her shins, lifting her bottom off the bed. He stretched out her arms toward the foot of the bed and tied her wrists to the corner ropes. Ropes round each knee to the side of the bed tied each leg in its bent position and spread her legs wide. Peter inserted another pillow, folded in half, under her back to increase its arch and then all the ropes were pulled tight to finish the stretch.

Repeating to Jenny that she was not to orgasm, Peter flogged her, going gently over her already-abused nipples but hard on her sensitive inner thighs and taut stomach. Sessions of the flogger were again followed by massages, when Peter also squeezed and sucked her breasts, causing her to squeal. Three rounds of harder flogging followed by more massaging and tit sucking had her screaming for release, her pussy flooded in expectation, her pelvis thrusting to its own rhythm.

The strain of the stretch, the fact of being trapped and vulnerable, the enhanced sensitivity of her skin, the hot ache from her bottom and, especially, the consciousness that she was serving her master's pleasure now contrived to trip Jenny into a mental state she called her 'Ocean Place'. Here she lost her sense of time and location but seemed to float on an infinite shallow ocean under a hot sun.

Peter let her calm down a little, which was mental torment for Jenny, who desired release so strongly; but worse torment soon followed for the poor, over-stimulated girl when Peter's fingers made contact with her aching pussy. He parted her labia while his thumb flicked over her clitoris. She arched her back even more against the tight restraint and breathed heavily. First one finger, then another intruded on her warm wet cleft. Peter pushed in further with his fingers and turned their tips up to rub her g-spot. Jenny gasped out her need for sexual release.

Driving his fingers ever faster, Peter felt Jenny's vagina walls beginning to clench. He disengaged immediately and Jenny moaned her disappointment, thrusting her hips at thin air. Peter now whipped Jenny's inner thighs hard, bringing her back from the brink of climax.

After another frustrating rest for her, Peter again fingered Jenny's pussy and sucked purposefully at a breast. Jenny moaned her approval though she was struggling mightily now to control herself. One of her random thoughts when Peter ordered her not to cum had been that he made it easy for her by giving her that release back in the kitchen. She realised how cruelly tantalising that climax had been when she wanted to repeat it so much more strongly now.

That was the last coherent thought Jenny would have for a while because she was building to one of the biggest orgasms of her young life. Deep breathing helped her contain it but everything in her situation fought against her. Peter was fingering her g-spot again and saying how beautiful she was, how much her gasps and moans turned him on, how urgent his need for her was....

His voice resonated deep in her psyche, making her want to submit to him in every demand, but the exquisite sensation of his fingers was over-coming her self-control. The tension was unbearable: she had to climax soon or she would break something. Jenny's moans became short, insistent and loud.

Happily Peter read her reactions correctly. He let her pussy alone a moment while he undressed, then he mounted the bed, knelt between her thighs and rammed his stiff aching penis firmly into her vagina. Jenny issued a sigh of satisfaction and arched her back to take him as deeply as possible. Impaled in her sweet flesh, Peter said: "Slave, you may cum"; and so she did, explosively, joyfully, in a fountain of pent-up tension and longing.

Peter had not had sex in a month, so he struggled to stop her spasms triggering his own release. He shut his eyes, concentrated and began thrusting into her. Soon Jenny had another shuddering orgasm and another: she was seeing fireworks behind her closed eyes and hearing the roar of the ocean in her ears. Her pussy was drenched, her nipples ached, her body convulsed and still Peter thrust deeply into her, gripping her breasts and shouting out his love for her as he drove ever harder. At last, throbbing overcame him, the tension broke and he pumped out surges of warm semen, his hands involuntarily clasping and unclasping her breasts.

After his orgasm, Peter lay gently on Jenny, breathing heavily, his penis slowly softening in her warm vagina. Jenny had climaxed again during his final urgent thrusts and she now relaxed into her bindings, sated, exhausted and completely fulfilled.

Peter unclipped her gag and they kissed deeply.

"I love you, Jenny.... How do you feel?"

"I love you, Master," she said. "I feel glorious. Thank you for letting me cum, Master."

"You're welcome, Slave." he said. "What do you say about going again right now?"

"As my Master orders me."

Peter pressed his mouth on hers and Jenny sucked on his tongue. She felt his spent penis hardening and she tried to thrust with her hips and squeeze him but exhaustion and the tight restraint prevented her giving him any friction. Peter noticed her efforts and, breaking the kiss, also withdrew from her, bringing a disappointed moan from Jenny. "Relax, Sweetheart," he said, "I am going to adjust your straps."