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“I think,” he continued, addressing both her and the crowd simultaneously, “that she will come to love it here, and fit in nicely as part of our Rojo family, but first, we’ve got just one little matter to take care of. Here at Rojo, naughty girls pay the consequences of their actions.”
The audience, who had been quietly encouraging a moment ago, erupted into cheers of gleeful agreement that were nearly deafening, but Pax fixed his gaze on her, and, in that moment, it was if they were back in her room at Aubergine, just the two of them. She was still getting spanked, but if she could drown out the spectators and focus only on the pain, and the fact that Pax was taking care of her, even while he busted her ass, she knew she could get through anything.
Taking her hand, he pulled her up, and switched places with her so that he was once again sitting, and she was standing beside him, positioned to go across his lap at any moment. She waited for his signal, but he didn’t give it. Instead, he held up his hand, winked at the spectators and opened his giant cargo pocket, shocking her when he pulled out a small maple paddle, to the delight of the audience.
“Normally,” he said for her benefit, “mistakes of this magnitude might get a taste of the cane or the strap, but this is only Diamond’s second spanking ever, and I think a good hard paddling will do the trick, and leave memories of this lesson for days to come, don’t you?” She barely heard the next bit over the ensuing roar. “Okay, young lady, bottoms up. It’s time for your spanking.”
The raucous cries of the crowd quieted to a whisper as Pax took her hand, and flipped her face down over his knees, with her torso hanging in midair off the chair. She braced her palms against the cold wood of the stage floor to steady herself. When he flipped up her short plaid skirt, exposing white ruffled panties, you could have heard a pin drop.
Turning her gaze away from the sea of onlookers, she focused her interest on a small scratch in the wood. It’s just me and Pax, she told herself. Just me and Pax.
* * *
He knew how to work a crowd and thoroughly chastise a naughty bottom simultaneously. It was a unique gift, and one that he employed regularly. He knew how to find that perfect balance between engaging his audience and focusing on reddening a bottom quickly and effectively.
But, tonight was different. Tonight his stomach was in his throat and his hands were sticky with sweat. The raucous cheers from the crowd had him biting his tongue in annoyance, and he hadn’t even begun.
Diamond wiggled her bottom impatiently, and he willed himself to focus on the task at hand. Punishing naughty showgirls should be second nature to him by now, as he had done it at least once a week for the last three years. She broke the rules, he chastised himself. He had never before spanked a girl for the sake of work, in private. Having done this in private, and having shared those intimate moments of her emotional release was making it that much harder to get the job done in public. But he had to. This was their arrangement. This was her future. It was what she had agreed to and what she was expecting, and he had no less than 700 people waiting to see a show they had paid to see.
Diamond, he saw, had her hair fanned out in front of her face, which was turned towards the back of the stage. She was blocking out the crowd, and he wished he could do the same. But he was more than a disciplinarian—he was an entertainer. Tucking Diamond in close to his waist, he tucked her legs underneath his own, so she wouldn’t be tempted to wiggle off his lap when things got intense. The first kiss of a wooden paddle generally had that effect.
Raising his hand, he made eye contact with the regulars in the first row. They were watching him with concern—even they could tell that something was different. Forcing his trademark devilish grin, he wiggled his eyebrows at them, and brought his hand down hard against the sheer white ruffles, watching in satisfaction as her bottom flattened under the force of his ministration. Her head shot up in surprise, and the audience went wild. Pax began to spank in earnest, finding his groove, even as his heart ached with confliction. Swat after swat rained down on her pert bottom. She wiggled and whimpered at the first few, but after a while had gone back to her audience ignoring stance and stopped reacting. They noticed, and were beginning to look bored. Pax himself was doing everything he could to keep them entertained but without a bottom’s reaction, it got boring quickly.
“It doesn’t quite seem like the lesson is getting through, does it?” addressing the spectators even though his eyes were trained on Diamond’s reaction. He was about to change the game plan. “I don’t think she’s getting the full impact she needs to feel remorseful for her naughty behavior—do you?”
They were nearly salivating. They knew what was coming, even if she didn’t. “No!” The tops in the audience cried joyously. The subs, or bottoms, looked pained. They were glad it wasn’t them up there, being spanked on stage for hundreds of onlookers.
“It’s difficult for a bottom to feel truly punished without a hard, long bare-bottom spanking,” he continued. “And if a bottom doesn’t feel truly punished, they cannot feel truly cleansed, and if they do not feel truly cleansed, they are more likely to repeat bad behavior.” Smiling devilishly at them, he hooked his fingers into the waist band of her white ruffled panties. “I think it’s time for these to come down.”
Only then did Diamond react, and it was so slight, he’d bet money that the crowd missed it. She didn’t cry out; her head didn’t move—there was nothing tangible for them to see—but Pax saw it. Her whole body tensed, and her bottom cheeks clenched as tightly as they could as she clamped her thighs together, as if to say, “No, I’m not okay with this.”
He hated the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t speak softly enough for only her ears over the sounds of the club, even when the audience was quiet. He settled for rubbing her back, and softly tapping her bottom as if to say, ‘Hey, remember me? I’m in charge here, and you need to trust me,’ all the while keeping his fingers hooked in the waistband. She didn’t have to like it, but they were coming down. When he felt her relax slightly, heeding his cues as he hoped she would, he slowly lowered her panties, bringing them to a rest right below her cheeks, so that none of her naughty bits were in view for anyone, not even him. He watched her shoulder muscles contract, and then relax again as she realized what he had done, and was reminded that she could trust him.
Tapping her bottom lightly with the palm of his hand, he prepared her. He had not spanked her on the bare before—save for a few well-placed swats to the tops of her thighs, and this would be a slightly humiliating, but humbling, and cleansing experience for her.
Working the audience, he picked up the wooden paddle from where he had placed it on the stage floor, and waved it in the air, before setting it back down. Not yet. He raised his hand once more, and even though Diamond had not moved from her position facing the back of the stage and her eyes were scrunched tightly shut, her cheeks instinctively clenched in anticipation of the blows against her bare skin. A quick tap of his fingertip to the small of her back told her what he needed from her. He heard her exhale deeply and watched as her bottom relaxed into its bouncy, pliable form, awaiting more of his correction. Finally, he began to spank, watching in delight as his hand connected with her creamy white skin, leaving a delicious but faint handprint on her left butt cheek. Entranced, he attempted the same mark on her right cheek. When his hand lifted the third time and he glanced down at his work, he saw two perfectly symmetrical mirror image handprints, and couldn’t help but smile at his accomplishment. It was like a work of art, and if this wasn’t a scene in a club, he would have pulled out his phone and captured the image for all eternity. Too bad he was going to have to ruin it, he thought as he brought his hand down again over the top of it, blurring the lines of the perfect image with a crisscross pattern where the two prints intersected. Now he focused on completely covering the two prints, turning her bottom an all over pink hue, until every line of the handprint was an indiscriminate pink blob. After about twenty swats, her bottom glowed a hot pink shade all over, and she was no longer able to be stoic and she wriggled and squirmed all over his lap, shrieking her pretty little head off with each new blow. Pax was no longer engaging the audience, and Diamond was putting up enough of a show with her reactions that they no longer cared.
Finally, he bent down and picked up the paddle, waving it in the air above his head, halfheartedly this time. The crowd was now just an afterthought. He heard their cheers as a dull murmur, and their presence was a blurred sea of faces in the not so distant distance. He was totally focused on Diamond, and his own handiwork. He took in her every breath, every wiggle, and squeal of pain and adjusted accordingly. Before the first punishing blow of the paddle was laid against her flaming rear, he tucked her in closer, and held her tighter. The first touch of an unforgiving wood paddle against a hot bottom had sent many a naughty girl flailing.
Diamond proved to be no exception. The paddle thudded, crushing her round fleshy bottom flatter than a pancake for a fraction of a second, and she reared up, forgetting her stubborn positioning she had thus far kept for the duration.
“Ow! Dammit!” she cried loudly, bringing a smile to his lips.
“Watch. Your. Mouth.” Each hard word was punctuated with a loud resounding smack across the middle of her bottom.
“Yes, sir!” her voice was a thick whisper but at least she had remembered “over-the-knee etiquette.”
The paddle fell again and again, wreaking its havoc across the fleshiest and most spankable part of her bottom, until she was crying in earnest. Pax was nowhere near finished. Not yet. Diamond responded to a spanking different than any bottom he had ever come in contact with. She more than any of his girls, craved that release. She didn’t just crave it—she needed it, and he was going to give it to her.
He had learned over the years that the quickest way to a sub’s tears was through her sit spots, especially when an implement such as a paddle or strap was involved. But Pax wasn’t interested in quick. Not this time. He lifted his knee, resting his foot on the bottom rung of the chair, tilting her body forward so that her nose was nearly touching the stage. She let out an “oomph” of air as her body adjusted to the change in position.
Her panties still rested right below her bottom, blocking his access to her tender crease where bottom met thigh, and he frowned impatiently. If this were a private scene, they would be on the floor in a hot minute. Instead, he carefully pulled them back up, smiling as she whimpered at the chaffing of the itchy sheer fabric against her hot and tender bottom. More for his benefit then her own, he gathered the fabric on both sides, pulling it to rest in a bunch, held into place by the crack of her bottom, leaving the still pristine skin of her sit-spots bared for his chastisement.
Her breathing, her soft cries of acceptance, every small shift in her body language told the same story. This was it. She was on the border between acceptance and release, and what he did next would make all the difference. He had never felt this much pressure to execute a spanking so exquisitely. His performance spankings were just that, performances—the spanking equivalent of a “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” Bend ’em over, spank ’em, hard, make ’em cry, and move on. This was different. At least he thought it was—his other girls could be battling the same kind of dark demons from their past that Diamond was—they could need a gut wrenching, sob inducing, guilt cleansing release. He didn’t know, he had never asked. It hadn’t even been on his radar to care.
But Diamond had come along, with her horrifying past, and her tangible pain, and acted herself out of a job and into his heart. And he couldn’t help it, from the moment he had scooped her up, and carried her off the stage at Aubergine, he had wanted to be her savior. Save her ass, save her job, save her identity, and save her from her demons that she hid so well.
These were the thoughts running through his head as he lifted his paddle once more, and launched a full on assault on her tender sit-spots. There was no audience now—not on his radar anyhow. There was only his paddle and her ass—nothing else mattered. Pax was in the zone; every fiber of his being was tuned in with every fiber of hers. Her pain, her cries, his application of the paddle in just the right spot at just the right time. It was like they were singing a beautiful duet that only the two of them could hear.
