Chapter 9

After beating and fucking me into an endorphin-enhanced orgasmic haze one Sunday afternoon Harvey lay beside me on the bed and stroked my sweat-dampened hair. “I had another chat with Johnny yesterday,” he said casually, and I immediately snapped to attention.

“What about, Sir?” I asked cautiously.

“He again suggested that we swap subs for a scene.”

That’s interesting, I thought to myself, but why is Johnny suggesting that? What does he have in mind?

“How would that work?” I asked. “Would we all be in the same room?”

“Yes, and he’s being creative again; he told me what he thought would be fun.”

I’m sure I’m not going to like whatever Johnny thinks would be fun. “Fun for whom?” I asked sarcastically.

“Well, fun for him and for me,” Harvey replied, “and maybe fun for you and Amy, at least after things get started.”

“Maybe you should tell me how Johnny thinks this swap should happen.”

“He suggested that instead of just doing separate scenes with each other’s subs we play a version of follow-the-leader. We’ll alternate; I’ll do something to Amy and then he’ll do the same thing to you. Then he’ll go first and do something with you and I’ll do the same thing with Amy.”

“That’s an... interesting idea,” I ventured, “but I suspect Amy will have worked on Johnny to do vicious things to me that she thinks she can handle when you do them to her.”

“You may be right about that; Johnny told me she’s still pissed over losing the blow-bang competition.”

“That figures.”

“But I assume you’d want to win again in this quasi-competition, so I think next weekend I’ll simulate such a scene and see what you can take.”

I smiled up at him. “I can take a lot, but I don’t think I’m going to enjoy that.”

“You’ll enjoy the ending,” he said with a grin.

Harvey started the scene, as he often did, with an OTK spanking, and that, as it always did, reminded me of my daddy spanking me as a child. I would never do anything sexual with my real father, but the idea of an older man treating me as a naughty little girl who needed to be punished had been a turn-on for me ever since I realized my father had gotten an erection whenever he spanked me. A lot of women like to believe they are attractive to younger men, it gives them the feeling that they still have it, and I’m certainly in that category. But one of my most powerful fantasies, one I’d never let anyone know about, revolved around an older man taking charge of me, and Harvey definitely fit that mold.

Also as he typically did, Harvey began slowly, lightly caressing my ass cheeks between mild strikes. But unlike a lot of his scenes, this one progressed rapidly; in a very short time my ass and my upper thighs were bright red and painfully hot. Then he said, “Prepare yourself,” and asked me one of the sillier questions I’ve ever gotten. “Are you ready?”

I think it’s time to reveal my secret fantasy, to let Harvey know one of the reasons I find him so irresistible as a man as well as a dominant. “Yes, I am ... Daddy.”

“Ahhh,” he whispered. “I get it, baby, and now so will you.”

He put his hand on the outside of my thigh to hold me in place and proceeded to pound the crap out of my already-sore ass. All I could do was squeal and cry out and take his fast and furious swats.

When he finally stopped spanking me his leg was wet with my secretions and it was no secret how the spanking had affected me physically. He raised me up and held me lovingly, as a father would hold a child he’d just had to punish, and I melted into his arms and kissed the side of his neck. “Thank you for revealing yourself, for sharing that with me,” he said gently. He stroked my hair and told me he loved me, and I was truly glad I’d confessed my fantasy to him.

But then, after a few minutes of tender aftercare, Harvey resumed our scene. He led me over to the bondage chair and had me rest my sore ass on the supporting beams. Then he tied my wrists to the arms of the chair and picked up another, longer length of rope, and I watched as he wrapped the rope around first my right breast and then my left. They were swelling and turning dark red from the constricted blood flow, and after tying off the ends of the rope he made the binding even tighter by clipping the upper and lower ropes together with a double-ended snap bolt. Then he did something he’d never done before.

“I think I need some pictures of that,” he said with a grin, and then, as I whimpered from the pain, he took several pictures with his cell-phone camera. “Don’t you want to smile for the camera?” he asked with a smirk, and all I could do was turn my face away and grimace.

He ran his fingertips very lightly over my breasts, just barely grazing the skin, and I felt strong tingles in my groin and my pussy released a burst of secretions. When he touched my nipples I nearly fainted from the powerful sensations; I couldn’t believe how intense the pleasure was. “Oh, God,” I whispered. “They hurt, but they’re also incredibly sensitive.”

“Good,” he said, and then he went to his duffel and came back holding a stiff rubber spatula with a chrome handle. “Let’s see what this does.”

“No, please,” I begged, but I was sure that wouldn’t have any effect, and it didn’t. He spanked my breasts, right on the nipples, and I shrieked, then mumbled, “Jesus, that hurts.”

“If you think that hurts, just wait,” he replied laconically, and I shuddered. What does he have for me next?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. He went back to his duffel and stayed there, with his back to me, for almost five minutes, and then he returned holding a glass filled with a white substance. “Oh, no,” I whimpered, and then he began pouring hot wax onto my breasts. He started on the right one, then moved to the left, and then back to the right to drizzle the wax onto my stiff nipple. Some of it fell onto my belly, and all I could do was pant and make little sounds of pain as he painted my breasts.

When I’d mostly gotten control of my breathing Harvey touched my pussy. Knowing myself and my body’s responses, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised by how wet I was, but I was still startled and so, apparently, was he. “Jesus, Nat, is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

“Maybe not,” I said ruefully. “The pain certainly seems to always have that effect.”

“It sure does,” he said with a grin. Then he added, “You’re not the only one being pushed here, you know.”