Fantasies of a Young Dominatrix - Sex Stories

Fantasies of a Young Dominatrix

... a couple of times, then I lifted my implement and give him a moderately hard blow. I saw the dent in the cloth of his pants and I knew his behind underneath was getting marked too. He made a sound, something like "Ah-h-h," but it wasn't too loud.

After a few seconds to let that stroke settle in, I hit him again. That time he yelped louder, and he stood up and grabbed his ass to comfort himself.

"D'Amato, stay in position. I know it hurts; it's supposed to." Man, that was such a cliche. "Haven't you ever been spanked or whipped by anybody before, even by your parents?"

"No professor, I never have."

"So this is a new experience for you. As you can see, it takes some self-control to receive this and maintain an honorable demeanor. Really grip that chair as I suggested before."

He controlled himself for the next four, although he yelled when hit and he was breathing heavily between strokes.

"You're taking this pretty well, D'Amato. We're almost finished with the first part."

I stopped after six and gave him a few moments to recover. He sank to his knees and grabbed his behind again. After a bit, I said, "Now, get up and drop your trousers below your knees; your drawers too."

He looked back at me as if he was hoping for a reprieve, although none was forthcoming. I just smiled at him and shook my head. When his clothes were down, I said, "Now, bend over as you were before. Remember, take it bravely, and don't falter during the next ten."

"You said ten ...

... more?"

"That's right, and I intend to do it, so don't do anything foolish to disrupt my rhythm."

I briefly checked the state of his backside. Six red lines went across his body; I was impressed with my accuracy. Also, with his rear exposed, his balls were now plainly visible to me. That I didn't mention, but I wondered if he was excited or humiliated by having his genitals exposed like that. Possibly it was a combination of both, but I would find out his attitude about it soon enough.

Paul held his position pretty well during the next five cane strokes, but after that, he started to squirm a bit. His hips would move forward as the cane hit him, and then he'd push his butt back out to receive the next one. He yelped each time one landed on him.

Yet he did an admirable job of taking his discipline, but I didn't comment on it; he was simply doing what was expected of him.

Then I was done, and I gave him about a half-minute to compose himself. Paul was lying on the cushion of the chair, with his knees on the floor, breathing heavily and gingerly touching his own rear end. Sixteen close stripes went across his bottom, and the flesh between them was bright pink.

At least he didn't sob; I had seen a few male students do that after the kind of solid thrashing that he had gotten.

"Get up, stand facing the wall, and put your hands on top of your head. And leave your pants down." He slowly stood and shuffled over to the wall to the left of the chair. I quietly moved ...