-10-

KIM

When I got up to my room, I looked at my watch so I'd know when to expect Bob -- in about an hour he'd said, and it was 10:35 now. Then I got a small pair of scissors and went into the bathroom, but when I tried to close the bathroom door I couldn't close it all the way. I had to leave it open several inches, enough so I could be seen from the hall. I realized this was one of the rules Bob said I'd understand when the situation came up, and sure enough, the rule was extremely clear in my mind. I had to leave doors partly open whenever I was feeling sexy and Bob and I were alone in the house. It wasn't even just when I was being punished, but anytime I felt at all turned on! I thought the way the rule was worded must mean there'd be times when I wouldn't be feeling that way, so I'd have some relief from being on display all the time, but I couldn't figure out when that would be. I stood over the toilet in my bra and panties, conscious of how the door was ajar, then I shrugged to overcome my embarrassment, took down my panties, and sat down. At least I wasn't as embarrassed now as I'd been a few minutes before; it didn't seem like I was fourteen any more.

I felt a great deal of relief being able to pee. Then I wiped myself, using a bit of water from the tap to get myself as clean as possible, front and rear. I used the small scissors to clip all the hair short around my vagina, feeling sort of silly while I was doing it. I was actually happy to lose some of my pubic hair, since with all that had gone on this morning I thought I must smell like a mink. I looked longingly at the shower, but Bob had told me not to waste time, so I put the thought aside. When I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror, I was shocked to see how much more exposed I looked with my bush gone. I didn't think it was at all pretty -- the phrase "bald as an egg" occurred to me -- but I was fascinated how all the folds of skin were visible, and it struck me that the plump flesh around my vagina looked maybe a little bit fat. God, not another weight problem to worry about! I know I have an unusually elongated clitoris, and I thought I could see it there in the mirror now that my hair was gone, hanging down like a little penis. I guessed that would increase my embarrassment about stripping in front of Bob, if such a thing was possible.

Maybe Bob was watching me now!

The thought came to me and I flushed and covered myself. But I didn't see any reason for Bob to spy on me invisibly under these circumstances. If he wanted to look at me, he could just do it! I was being punished, after all, and God knows he'd been seeing enough of my bod during the past half-hour. Of course he might want to watch me when I didn't know it, and come to think of it, what was he going to be doing during the hour I was upstairs thinking up fiendish tortures for myself? I looked around the bathroom casually and didn't notice anything. But then of course I wouldn't. Was Bob watching me? It was possible, but I was beginning to doubt it: it just seemed too unlikely. Suddenly I noticed a CD I'd barely been able to hear playing downstairs had just finished. I listened for a moment and heard another one being started. It was nice to have a definitive answer occasionally.

I'd pulled up my panties just now when I'd thought Bob might be watching, trying to be casual, as though I'd finished. Now I pulled them down again and twisted myself around so I could look over my shoulder at my bottom in the mirror. I realized I'd been looking forward to this, but I didn't want to be seen doing it. My bottom looked flushed, a rosy red color, but really much less beat up than I would have thought. If I'd been asked what I expected it to look like, I would have thought it would be much worse because of how much it hurt while I was getting paddled. But it didn't look bad at all: no raw spots, no purple bruised look. It wasn't even an angry red, just a good healthy spanked red -- lightly spanked if I'd had to guess. I brought the palms of my hands back and rubbed the cheeks of my butt, feeling a hot, stingy sensation. It wasn't at all painful though, and I was surprised all over again. I remembered sometimes feeling too sore to sit down back when my Dad paddled me for being a brat. Still, painful or not, the feeling I got from rubbing my butt was very erotic. This was something I'd wanted to do out of Bob's sight -- the picture I had of myself was a naughty girl with a red fanny rubbing her bottom to turn herself on.

Of course, that was exactly right. After all, this was something I'd been fantasizing about since I was an adolescent. It was the first time anything like it had ever happened, getting seriously paddled by a boy I liked, and I was a bit surprised to find it was just as sexy as I'd pictured it. It was the whole situation, of course, not really the paddling part, which hurt too much while I was getting it. But looking back on Bob paddling me: that was such a turn-on! I realized that my punishment was only half over and I had the rest of it coming after Bob came upstairs. I tried to decide whether that idea was a turn-on. All I could think was that the potential was, but I hoped Bob would stick to mild spanks with his hand, or the punishments to embarrass and tantalize me that I was supposed to write down. Of course even those were very hard to take! The feeling I'd had that I was a virgin being videotaped when I was nude in front of Bob was too extreme for me to get aroused while it was going on.

Except, of course, when Bob had me bend over the stand and rub myself against his finger. I'd gotten aroused then all right. I squirmed with shame at the memory of the experience, less than ten minutes before, and I noticed that I was breathing hard and tingling all over, especially between my legs. I was still looking at myself in the mirror, and the stinging sensation in my butt as I agitated the flesh with my fingers was extremely erotic. So there was a good physical explanation for my excitement. I decided that Bob probably was doing everything right: paddling me hard and doing something to make me feel so much embarrassment. It wasn't all pleasant but it certainly fit my fantasy. I knew I was supposed to feel intimidated enough by the paddling that I'd try to be obedient! I wasn't really being hurt -- I was still surprised at the lack of bruising -- and I was becoming more and more aware of how terribly stimulated I was feeling. I was quite sure Bob was enjoying himself making me squirm too, and the thought of Bob enjoying my punishment turned me on even more.

But I had to stop dwelling on this: it wasn't like what I was used to, when I could masturbate when I got all excited! I pulled up my panties, washed my hands, and hesitated for a moment at the sink. Then I drank three large glasses of water, as much as I could comfortably hold. Bob said I should do things that would help him punish me later, and I knew one of the rules was that I'd get credit to reduce some of my paddling when I cooperated like this. I also knew I'd get extra punishment if I failed to do something I thought of. I'd already had two glasses of water in the kitchen when I did the dishes, and if Bob wanted to punish me later by keeping me from peeing, it should be real torture in an hour or so.

Then I had another thought of a preparation Bob would probably want me to make, went back to my room and rummaged around in my chiffonier to find my diaphragm. I squeezed out some Ortho-Cream, hoping it hadn't expired during more than the year I hadn't used it. I looked, but it didn't seem to have an expiration date, so I sat down on my bed and inserted it. There! I flushed a little as I thought that I was ready for a few of the things Bob might want to do to me. I realized I wasn't getting any credit for putting in my diaphragm though, because the way I was feeling right now Bob would be doing me a real favor if he condescended to fuck me. I got another excited feeling thinking how I was really Bob's sex-slave. It wasn't just punishment he could subject me to -- he could make me get him off any time he wanted, and no matter how horny I got he could just tell me to sit on it until he felt kind-hearted enough to let me come. I thought about that scenario for a moment, being kept from orgasm until I was ready to beg.

Once again, I had to stop dwelling on something that aroused me too much, and I concentrated on deep breathing for a minute. When I'd lost the edge of my excitement I got a tablet to write on and a pencil and I lay down on my bed, still in my bra and panties. On second thought I jumped up and changed to clean underwear. I thought of putting on more sheer panties as a minor embarrassing preparation that Bob would presumably approve of, but I didn't have anything more transparent than what I'd been wearing before, a bit sheer but nothing I'd be ashamed of showing to my mother. I got back in bed and tried to find a good position to lie in, ending up on my tummy, resting my cheek on my left forearm with my right hand ready to write on the tablet. The position was quite close to the one I used when I was fantasizing -- the only difference on those occasions was that my right hand would be in a slightly different spot. I'd picture myself restrained face down in a comfortable, high-tech, punishment machine with my buttocks exposed, about to get a paddling from the machine while Bob watched. Or even while he was out of the room -- one of the degrading things about the machine was that Bob could put me in to be punished and then go do something else, like a sultan having a slave-girl punished by an underling.

I suddenly had a horrible idea that when Bob said I should do things that would help him punish me later, that might include keeping myself sexually aroused. It was clear that Bob thought being frustrated was a good punishment. I thought so myself! So maybe I should put my hand where I usually did and keep myself in a state where Bob would later find it easy to stimulate me. I tried to think of reasons why I wouldn't have to do that. I didn't think I could stand to keep myself tantalized for nearly an hour until Bob came up to my room. I was too stimulated already! Maybe I could just flat-out not do it. But I remembered the rule I'd just learned and didn't want to have to admit to Bob later that I'd thought of a punishment but hadn't wanted to prepare for it. I didn't want more paddling for that -- and then he could just make me do it anyway. Gradually, the idea came that keeping myself aroused was more like punishment than preparation for punishment. Also, if I tried to keep myself that way I wouldn't be able to think about anything else, so I'd be disobeying Bob's orders to write down humiliating punishments from my fantasies. It really did begin to seem that that wasn't how he'd want me to interpret his order.

I tossed around a bit on the bed but returned to the same position. The trouble was that I was so completely in Bob's power! The paddle intimidated me so that I was willing to do anything to keep him satisfied, but because of my hypnotic compulsion I couldn't lie to him, not even by omission. Now that I'd thought of this idea, I had to be completely honest about it. I supposed Bob would want me to nudge myself along if I started losing interest. It would be wrong to over-stimulate myself, but I probably should make sure I didn't start losing sensitivity down there, keep myself ready for the master's touch. Great picture! The Sex-Slave at home!

Right now, I still felt a bit tingly all over, but with no specific sensations in my clitoris. I decided to touch myself just for a moment, and tentatively extended my hand under my body to do it. But when my finger made contact I felt a wave of desire that passed through me like an electric shock! I was instantly humping myself against my hand, feeling intense waves of pleasure, as if already in the throes of orgasm. It took all my will power to break contact and pull my hand away. As the throbbing sensations died away my longing for orgasm placed a thought in my mind that seemed infinitely appealing.

I could masturbate. I could! There was nothing stopping me!

There were a lot of good reasons why that was a bad idea. Bob would be up in, I looked at my watch, fifty-two minutes, and he'd be really pissed if he found out. I was already being punished, and it wasn't over -- I had forty more smacks to go! If I masturbated I wouldn't be able to get out of any paddling for fantasies about having Bob tantalize me. I'd be sure to get another good long whipping with the paddle.

A little voice speaking from my lower nerve ganglia pointed out that even if I got another paddling, it would only last a few minutes and then it would be over -- it was worth it to get off now! And maybe Bob wouldn't give me all the smacks I had coming. I could point out I'd be horny again in less than an hour, I'm easy to excite several times a day. And if Bob was going to leave me the freedom to masturbate he should be fair about it. I could stand to get all forty smacks if he didn't make it worse in other ways. I'd already had more than that earlier, counting the extras ones for being disobedient. That shouldn't stop me.

But this was crazy! Here I was just thinking that I'd do anything to avoid another paddling, and now I was willing to take a good one if only I could get myself off now! But what if Bob was really angry and his idea of what was fair didn't agree with mine?

What if he caught me at it?!

I looked at the door to my room, open several inches as I'd had to leave it, and I thought of how I'd feel if Bob walked in and caught me trying to masturbate while I was already in the middle of a punishment. That picture wasn't exactly calculated to calm my fevered thoughts, and I felt another wave of excitement between my legs. The problem was that I was even hornier than usual. I hadn't masturbated for days because I kept tantalizing myself and then falling asleep every night in the middle of my fantasy. I never even tried again during the day when I was wide awake, although I realized now I'd been feeling more and more frustrated all week.

Did Bob have something to do with that?

God, it fit! The last time I could remember getting off was when I'd left the tape downstairs last Tuesday, and Bob said he'd hypnotized me right after that. Did he order me to always fall asleep in my fantasy before climaxing? I was sure I'd tried every night, and gotten really close too, tantalizing myself. Even though I was fantasizing about Bob frustrating me, it seemed very strange now that I thought of it that I'd always drifted off to sleep in the middle of my fantasy. Usually I stopped tantalizing myself at the end and let myself come, certainly by the second night I would always do that! God, I felt so horny right now!

But it didn't matter whether Bob had made me extra horny. The important thing now was to calm myself down and start concentrating on the punishments I was supposed to write down. I was wasting a lot of time and I wanted to come up with some things Bob could do that would let me out of getting paddled again. It didn't matter how embarrassing it was, it had to be preferable to more of those awful smacks with the paddle. I took my right hand up where I could see it and tried to discipline my thoughts and be creative about situations Bob could put me in.

I realized as I started to write that I wouldn't be able to recall any details of the scenarios I invented after I was finished. I could remember them all when I was writing, but one of the rules Bob set up was that I'd forget the details of the punishments after I stopped writing, so I wouldn't know what to expect in later sessions when I asked for alternate punishments. What I can recall best from this period is that the twin aims of getting calmed down and thinking about punishments for myself didn't go together. These were exactly the kinds of fantasies I had when I was getting ready to masturbate, so they were calculated to arouse me, and since I started from such a sensitive state they succeeded very thoroughly! The abstract nature of the arousal made everything seem all the more intense. I wasn't physically stimulating any part of my body, so I started feeling tiny physical cues and magnifying them in my mind. I'd think through some punishment for myself, and after I'd written it down I'd be conscious of how the bedclothes were curled up under my breasts making an imprint on my right nipple, so it throbbed slightly. I'd start thinking about another punishment in my fantasies and feel how the slight motion of my breathing made my legs move, and how the bedspread under me rubbed against the waistband of my panties and made it curl down. And that would give me a mental picture of my panties continuing to curl down and then sliding off. And then that would remind me of Bob paddling my bottom and how warm and stingy it felt.

But the most difficult feeling to ignore was in my vagina. Once when my legs moved as I adjusted myself on the bed, it felt like someone had touched my clitoris lightly -- excruciatingly arousing! It seemed so real when I felt it that I froze, thinking Bob must be in the room invisible, tantalizing me. But I didn't think he'd have enough patience not to do it again it during the minute I stayed frozen, and when I moved my legs again, I felt the same sensation repeated.

I pushed all the bedclothes away from me and breathed deeply several times, rubbing my hands briskly against my arms. The problem was the fantasies I had to write down. If only I could stop thinking about them I could get control of myself! But I thought Bob would have a right to paddle me some more if I stopped doing what I was told just because it made me uncomfortably aroused. I settled back down in the bed and tried again to think about embarrassing punishments from my fantasies without getting more turned on.