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I would demand to go home. It seemed entirely obvious that, just as my ‘accepted suitor’ had told me, I had no way of escaping the pain and humiliation he meant to inflict. From the moment the judge had pronounced my bizarre sentencing to this crazy excuse for a program, it had all unfolded with what I could see now as insane but absolute inevitability.
Foster ‘parents’ who believed in ‘traditional’ gender roles and ‘old-fashioned’ discipline. A muscular, incredibly masculine suitor who shared their beliefs. A whipping with the family strap. A session over my suitor’s knee with his thumb in my ass and his fingers on my clit. Training panties, inspections, preparations, so-called ‘dates,’ and my own inevitable rebellion.
All meant to get me ‘ready’ to submit utterly to this man’s masculine authority, his masterful pleasure, his dominant use of my virgin body.
I let out a sob of shame and need as I sensed Cal straightening and taking a step back. I couldn’t see him but I could picture him much too well, standing looking at my bare, reddened backside. My face worked with abject embarrassment and the tears started to trickle down my cheeks. I wanted, suddenly and desperately, for him to get it over with.
And then…
No. No. And then I would demand, in my fury, that he take me back to the Carpenters. I would go to the New Modesty office… would walk there if I had to… and request to be sent to prison, rather than this ‘old-fashioned’ bullshit.
I felt a terrible urge to turn my head, crane my face around so that I could see Cal. Did he like what he saw? I wanted him to like what he saw: my bare butt, with what I thought had to be at least a tinge of pink from the hard spanking he had given me through my dress and my panties.
What he’ll never get to… to… have. The defiant voice in my mind tried again. What he’ll never get to claim… never get to fuck.
The rebellion in me had made a misstep there. When I thought the word fuck, I seemed to feel it in my body. My pussy clenched. I wanted to disappear into the floor, or let the observer in outer space come and rip me off the Earth into the heavens.
I also wanted Cal, more than anything. I wanted him to have me, own me, use me, fuck me. I wanted him to enjoy me exactly as he wanted, even though it meant submission to the discipline I had earned by disrespecting him.
My knees almost gave way with the conflict raging inside, the desire and the resistance. Cal saved me. He sat on the couch, his movement seeming sudden though I felt sure that was only because I had entered some kind of dreamlike time-lapse state. I had a moment’s panic—absurd, really—that he would see my bare pussy, but then I felt him reaching for me, taking my hips, guiding me between his enormous legs and turning me.
Bending me over, into the same posture and position he had put me in on our first date. This time, though, he secured me completely from the start. He had bent my arms behind me before I really knew what he meant to do, and he had put his right leg across both my knees.
I thought he would start spanking me immediately, the way he had suddenly begun to do when I had hesitated in the middle of the living room. Instead, I felt his hand come down on my bottom, his thumb atop the crease there and his two middle fingers pressing between my thighs.
I gave a little whimper, and I responded the same way I had the last time he had touched me that way: I moved my knees farther apart, yielding access, giving him what he clearly wanted me to understand as his right to touch me as he chose. I told myself I had moved like that so that he wouldn’t punish me more harshly for resisting. I told myself it didn’t change anything about how stern a demand I would make to go ‘home’ after this horrid insanity came to an end.
“That’s it,” Cal murmured from high above me. “Good girl. You’re ready.”
My lips parted as I started to figure out his meaning. Ready for my correction? Or ready for… for more?
“You got yourself so nice and smooth, Grace. You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
I wanted to say so many things. They all got in each other’s way, and they all ran into the problem that I had started to breathe so hard that I could hardly get a word out.
“Oh, God,” was all I managed to whisper.
He moved his fingers, beginning to work me down there, very lightly but also terribly skillfully. A sob burst from my chest.
“I told you I would fuck you,” the deep voice said, the tone as soft as the touch of his fingers where I needed so much more. “But if you decide you want to go home, after your punishment, I’ll do that for you.”
“Oh, no,” I breathed. I realized, to my dismay, that I didn’t want it to be my decision. My face burned with the knowledge, and I found myself taking refuge in the idea that at least my spanking, and my paddling, weren’t a matter of choice.
Cal seemingly read my mind yet again.
“But now it’s time for you to learn your lesson, darlin’,” he said, his voice becoming firmer. His hand rose. Panic filled my tummy, and I started to struggle against the overwhelming strength of his body.
“That’s alright, Grace,” he said. “I know you can’t help trying to get away.”
Then he started to punish me.
CHAPTER 29
Grace
I yelped from the start, and I kept struggling. They both made it feel easier, somehow. One of Cal’s huge hands held my wrists tight and held me firmly down over his knee, so that my wriggling resistance felt completely fruitless. His other hand came down on my ass-cheeks and my upper thighs in a rapid rhythm, so that my little but increasingly sharp cries of pain obviously had just as little effect. My suitor could make it absolutely clear, simply with the strength of his manly body, that—as he had told me patiently, over and over—I had no choice in the matter of how he would discipline me and train me.
My entire backside burned. At the same time, I could tell that Cal was administering this part of my humiliating lesson as a longer, less forceful kind of spanking. With my bare bottom raised and my shaved pussy exposed, I realized, he probably wanted to keep me over his knee for a good long time.
