How Firm the Hand

I hadn’t been collared a day before V beat my ass red. Not warmed pink, not welted and purple, no, she thoroughly spanked my ass and upper thighs until the flesh was deep red.

While the beating wasn’t a punishment, it certainly wasn’t funishment. It was more like a hard reboot for my head space.

Three days spent with V provided more insight into who she is than several months of phone calls and emails combined. And while it’s only common sense that time spent with someone will be exponentially different and more gratifying than long-distance communication, certain moments drove the point home.

One such moment occurred just after we returned from dinner. Upon entering the room, I stripped, folded my clothes, and waited at the foot of the bed. Settling near me, V pressed my head to her lap and toyed with the chain of my collar. I sighed, resting there for a few moments before she said something which took me off guard.

“You sound needier on the phone,” she mused, “Almost clingy at times. I like hearing that in your voice, but I’ve yet to hear or feel it from you in the flesh. I wonder why.”

“Don’t worry,” she said smiling down at my puzzled face. “I didn’t say you’ve been anything besides sweet and attentive. You’ve been a very good boy. That’s not an issue. What I mean is I’ve yet to feel you need me. Feel your craving.”

“Well, I do want you,” I said, relieved, before making myself comfortable again on her lap. “I want you bad… so maybe all that needy craving just takes some time to build up inside? Into a voice I mean.”

“No – the boy I’m looking for is in there. And getting him out? I think it might take fifteen…twenty minutes tops,” she said. “Hand me that black canvas bag. The one on the chair.”

She dug around in the bag for a few moments before withdrawing a wide-backed hairbrush.


“Come lay across my lap, sweet boy,” she said patting her leg. “I want to put some color in those cute cheeks of yours.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Settling across her lap, I realized this would be my first time over her knee and found myself more curious than scared. After all, I’d done nothing wrong, she’d just said so. After positioned my waist where she wanted, V ran her hands over my ass and thighs. I could feel her eyes weighing and measuring me just as her hands familiarized themselves to my body. Acutely aware I was buck naked where she was fully clothed, my cock grew hard against her denim jeans. She seemed to be enjoying the power play, I thought, with no intention of really laying into me.

The first stinging smack of her open hand on my ass cheek corrected my guess about her intentions. V is a strong woman, has spanked plenty of bottoms, and knows where the power in her hand lies and where the force each strike will be felt. That first smack was an open, slightly cupped hand which landed full at the base of my left cheek and caused me to rock slightly forward.

“Oh shit,” I thought. “I’m in for it.”

She kept on spanking me with her bare hand until my ass was well warmed and stinging. When she switched to the brush, each swat was like fire. And while I had no intention of struggling, I did squirm some and immediately found she’d locked her leg around mine while leaning into the hand she’d rested on the back of my neck.

The spanking went on. Ruthless powerful swats covering every inch of my ass and fluctuating to the upper backs of my thighs. No pauses, no talking, just the sound of the brush’s back striking my ass and my grunts, grunts which quickly became moans. It hurt bad, and would only hurt more as she continued. And while there was a rhythm to her strikes, it never slowed.

She was beating my ass in earnest

In a moment of self-awareness – I found the noises and energy coming out of me felt off. Way off. I realized V wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. She could do this until she got tired, and then do it again.

I was owned. Her collared boy. Her property. If she wanted to, the beatings could go on all night long.

This realization – that I was owned property, to be beaten and fucked at her discretion – caused even more blood to surge into my already stiff cock. Feeling the hardness of my sex against her leg, V moved slightly to stroke it once, but continued spanking me without comment. She’d beat my ass until I broke down and gave her what she wanted. And what she wanted was for me to give up. To surrender.

I stopped thinking and felt, allowing the moans to become the whimpers which forever live at the back of my throat. I forced myself to stop struggling even as I arched in agony. She didn’t stop, and I melted as much for her ruthlessness as I did for her softer side. She was both the firm hand I needed and the shelter I craved. And then the whimpers were simply coming out of me. I collapsed under the strong fingers clamped at the base of my skull, surrendered to the fire and heat of my owned, beaten ass, gave into the pain washing over me even as my cock surged against her clothed thigh. No longer certain or caring if I whimpered, moaned, howled, or sobbed, I let go.

She stopped beating me soon after.

When she stopped, it was abrupt and without comment. Though she said nothing, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence she’d stopped because the stiffness had left my spine and was satisfied. She wasn’t breaking me but reminding me who I was.

She made a contented noise as she admired the effects of her effort before playfully shoving me to the floor.

After snagging a bottle of water from the nightstand, she returned to sit on the bed where she studied me, her well-beaten boy who lay sprawled out, panting at her feet.

“Well, now,” she said after taking a swig of water, “Stand up. Let me get a better look at my work.”

I did as instructed, eyes cast down, cock hard and dripping, ass red and stinging.

“Aww, such an improvement in the way you look already. So come over here, sweet boy. Come over here and let me see how see how you feel. You may thank me as well.”

Without thinking, I was on my knees before her and holding her waist. Clutching at her, holding on as hard as I could. I wasn’t worried she might beat me again, or that she would change tactics to find a more painful way to amuse herself. I had a sudden concern she might leave the room.

“Thank you Ma’am”

“I knew you were in there,” she said with a sigh. And then she was stroking the back of my head and neck, soothing me, pausing to give my collar a gentle tug. “Just fifteen minutes to pry the sweetest boy meat out of the shell.”

“Now then, let’s see about getting your ass properly plugged…”


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