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Message-ID: <62838asstr$1384704603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: John D <johndstories@gmail.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 03:01:50 UTC
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Subject: {ASSM} Paddle Poker (BDSM, femdom)
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Date: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 11:10:03 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This story, and others is at 
http://www.johndstories.co.uk/short-story-paddle-poker/

Enjoy!


She squirmed; I loved it when they wriggled, and their smile, so often 
plastered to their faces throughout the evening, disappeared as the 
reality of their situation dawned upon them. She gasped and bit her lip, 
writhing on the soft, plush carpet of my expensive apartment. I put the 
King of Hearts onto the shagpile, causing her to give a sudden, sharp 
intake of breath.

Her cute face framed her desperate worrying perfectly, her long blonde 
hair covering her bare breasts as she leant forward and looked up at me 
putting my third King onto the cream carpet. "Three Kings," I said 
proudly, leaning back on my haunches and watching her hold her cards 
tightly.

I may have had some rum hands over the evening, but as my companion and 
I had traded victories, and the clothes had come off, I was ready to 
claim my prize. She looked at me in my Batman boxer shorts and gulped as 
I threw my remaining two, useless, cards onto the floor and looked at her.

The offer I make is simple; I like spanking young ladies, and I will bet 
any woman who wants to, a ferocious spanking if I win a game of strip 
poker, against any sensible sum of money if they win; I'd never lost and 
had issued dozens of red bottoms to women all over my town.

"I got a three of clubs," she muttered. "And a five, and a nine. And a 
Queen." She gulped as she put down her four cards and smiled. "And the 
ace." It took a few moments for me to focus on her hand and understand 
the implications of her flush.

"But ..."

She nodded and glanced at my crotch. "Yeah, I win. Get `em off." I 
hesitated and she twirled her hair around her fingers as I tentatively 
pushed my black underwear to my knees and then free. "Ahhh ... so cute," 
she patronised. "I can see why you didn't want to get it out."

"Oi!" I moaned and she breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the 
wooden paddle behind her, slapping it gently against the palm of her 
hand. "Was this going to be used on me?"

"Yes," I groaned, slightly annoyed that my Poker skills had let me down 
and cost me Ł1000. "I'll get you on a rematch."

She snorted and raised the paddle. "I don't want a rematch. I want to 
paddle you."

"Err ... them not the rules."

"I'll take my money then," she countered and watched as I writhed on the 
carpet. "Don't tell me you don't have it?"

"It's in the bank," I muttered awkwardly and then waited for her 
consternation. "I'll get it tomorrow."

"I'll claim my prize tonight," she demanded and the girl five years 
younger than me, stood up and beckoned me to the black sofa. I 
protested, promising her a cheque to cover the owed monies, or even 
interest, but she "required satisfaction." My hands felt clammy but 
oddly excited. She towered over my pleading, and dragged my arm to the 
sofa, holding the paddle out.

I begged, but Natalie was having none of it, and the half-naked woman 
stood behind me akimbo, reminding me that it was my defeat that had led 
to that situation. And then it came: a fierce, powerful strike of my 
elegantly carved and beautiful paddle, drilled against my bare rump.

I yelled in pain as my bottom exploded into a mass of intense points of 
agony, shattering as my paddle hit me for a second time, equally as 
hard. I begged for mercy, but she just cackled. "Show any of the girls 
mercy, do you?"

Of course I didn't, and she rubbed the sleek wooden torture instrument 
over my abused bum and as I sighed with relief, slapped my right cheek 
hard. "Please!"

She denied me, and as her left hand pushed against my back to keep me in 
position, her right hand brought the paddle across my reddening flesh 
with glee, continuing to revel in my cries as the wooden paddle turned 
my arse pink, then red, then crimson.

Excruciating pain erupted across my ruddled rear as tears welled in my 
eyes and I pleaded for her to show mercy; all worries about humiliating 
myself before the brazen women disappeared as I desperately begged her 
to stop my torment; she was breaking me, and as I tried to stand up, she 
swung the paddle as hard as she could manage against my bruised flesh 
with a sadistic laugh.

I screamed; louder and more desperate than I had ever screamed before. I 
wished she would stop, I needed her to halt my torment, but as tears 
rolled down my cheek and my erection pressed against the cold leather of 
the sofa, I felt freedom; a sense of relief and satisfaction roll over 
me and cascade through me. I felt joyful and ecstatic as my eyes watered 
the black chair, and I sobbed uncontrollably.

I was free and as I felt my welts and bruises my secretary, and 
torturer-in-chief just smiled at me and sat down on the sofa watching as 
I sank into the furniture, thoroughly drained.

One of us would be bent over my desk tomorrow and I wasn't quite sure who!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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