THWAP!

Once more, the thick leather belt fell across my ass. The blow was light, barely enough to make a sound, barely enough to sting.

THWAP!

It wasn't about the individual strokes. Not at all. It was about the cumulative effect.

THWAP!

Try it yourself. Take a thick leather belt, and swing it lightly at your ass or thigh, about once every five or six seconds. Just enough to sting a little and make a sound. Go on, try it. For about a minute.

THWAP!

How's that feel? Burns like hell, doesn't it? After only a minute. You'll feel it for the next five minutes or so.

THWAP!

Sir had been working on my ass for nearly an hour. Every inch of my butt was a raging inferno. And I have a lot of butt. I'm a big girl. Sir likes me that way.

THWAP!

My name is Peggy Barton, and at 23 years old, I'm probably about 40 pounds overweight, most of it in my butt and thighs. I still find it difficult to believe that for the past four months, I've been happily married to one of the richest, most powerful men in America. But within these four walls, inside my husband's playroom, I'm simply known as 'Slave'.

THWAP!

My husband, Nigel, is 51, tall and distinguished looking, trim and very fit for his age. He was wielding the belt. But within these four walls, he is simply 'Sir'. Not Nigel. And never, never 'Master'. He hates that word with a passion. I was here for using it, repeatedly, knowing he didn't like it. I was here for being a brat.

THWAP!

His playroom mostly looks a lot like a sumptuous home gym. It's well lit, with lots of mirrors on the walls. There's a stationary cycle, a treadmill, a high-end tanning bed, and a Bowflex exercise machine. A few free weights are stacked on a wooden rack. There's a glassed-in shower big enough for two in one corner, an area with an exercise mat, and a heavy bag hanging in another corner.

THWAP!

There is also an elaborate St. Andrews cross on a gimbal that can be positioned at any angle, a whipping horse, a set of wooden stocks, and the cabinets where Sir keeps his toys.

THWAP!

I was nude and bent over the side of the whipping horse, a six foot long, padded and leather covered cylinder similar to a gymnastic vaulting horse. My ankles were cuffed to a four foot long spreader bar, and my wrists cuffed to short chains attached to my ankle cuffs that brought my hands down to within a couple feet from my ankles. The horse was adjusted in height so that I was barely on tiptoe. My light brown hair hung down to the pale hardwood floor.

THWAP!

My shaved cunt was spread wide open, and drooling wet. Even my chubby buttocks were spread, exposing my anus, which was clenching with each...

THWAP!

Many Dominants with a sub in this position would have him or her gagged with a ball gag as well. Not Sir. He didn't even own a gag. Sir always said, "No matter what else you deprive a sub of, she still has a right to her screams, and to verbally say her safe word".

THWAP!

My safe word is 'peppermint'. I didn't think it up on my own, Sir just assigned it to me the night we first met in person. I've never used it out loud, and I'm proud of that. But let me tell you, I've mentally screamed it on more than one occasion!

THWAP!

I was gasping with each blow. My ass was positively on fire. But I wasn't being punished. Oh no, not yet. This wasn't punishment. This was just "ass warming". Sir always said that a sub should never be punished with a cold ass. Apparently, my ass wasn't warm enough to suit him yet.

THWAP!

Punishment didn't have to involve pain. I have had my ass warmed before being made to stand in the corner (I hate that) or set to perform some unpleasant or humiliating task. But punishment COULD involve pain. The first time Sir punished me, he warmed my ass with a flogger before giving me belt strokes that left painful welts for days. That was the same night he made love to me for the first time, then proposed to me the next morning.

THWAP!

I knew what my punishment was going to be, and I dreaded it. It was worse than the flogger. Worse than the belt. Worse than being cornered. Even worse than the evil, evil cane. Sir never left you wondering. He always told you what was going to happen in advance. "Anticipation is a useful tool," he often said.

THWAP!

"Orgasm denial," he had said when he pronounced sentence for my brattiness.

Oh gawd. Hours of being built up to the brink, held there teetering on the edge, then denied. Over and over and over. Then finally sent off to bed with my wrists cuffed on short chains attached to my collar, free to move around, but unable to touch my own pussy. Oops sorry, Sir's pussy.

THWAP!

I hated it. I hated Sir. Oh god I love him so much.

The next anticipated THWAP didn't come. The fire on my ass raged on. I felt something wet and icy cold on my asshole, and then grunted as Sir pushed a thick butt plug all the way in without hesitation. Punishment was beginning. Working quickly, he pressed something sticky to the inside of each thigh, high up, right next to my pussy. It felt like the little sticky pads they put on your chest when you get an EKG. He pressed another one over the top of my pussy slit, centered over my clit.

I watched, confused, looking back between my legs, as he lifted a fistful of wires. When he finished, the wires dangled down between my legs and off to the left out of sight. Finally, he pushed something cold and hard up deep inside my wet cunt.

The butt plug began to expand and contract in my ass. The thing in my pussy started vibrating intensely. Oh. My. God.