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I got the text from My Lady at 0303 hrs. In bed with my loving husband when My Lady texts me that I am to await her in my garage. I was to select a hairbrush with a relatively flat back, and good sturdy handle. There was the small matter of a write up I had done about a service for her that was flawed.
I totally understand. My Lady is without flaw to me, so when my service to her is flawed, then I have failed her and I should be thankful she will offer me correction. I slipped from my marriage bed quietly and dressed in good comfortable clothes. Wool socks, jeans, a very basic bra and panty set in cream, and a good sweat shirt. It is winter here, and if My Lady was coming, I had to shovel the drive so it would be easy for her to come, park, and turn around without getting stuck.
I guess its not what most people think of as romantic, but it is my joy to serve her, and to waste her time stuck in the snow of my driveway would be so deeply shaming I don’t know how I could face her again. I was finished and waiting in my open garage when she pulled up.
Taking a step out of her car, the long elegant coat showed the trim frame of My Lady to good advantage as she silhouetted herself in front of her headlights. A shadow, a shape of darkness with flashes of scarlet and snow white as her profile caught the light with a face that was life, love, hope, and in every real sense, owner, to me.
“Show me the hairbrush, Jan.” She said softly. The weak posture and shout. The truly strong need never raise their voice, for no one doubts their right to command.
I tried to pretend it was the cold that made my hand tremble, and the shoveling that brought the blush to my face, but both of us knew that to be false.
I held up the brush. Wooden handle, blunt tip flaring to a very comfortable rounded handle that narrowed at the neck before flaring again to a large flat backed oval. The bristles were too soft for most uses, but perfect for blow drying my hair, and the over thick rounded handle perfect for indifferent and off hand grips as I blow dry the back and undersides of my long red hair.
I feared today it would not be my hair that was red, and the hairbrush would see thorough use.
“That will do Jan.” She told me, then stepped forward and slapped it gently against her palm.
“Do you remember the number of errors that I found in your write up Jan?” She asked me.
I blanked. I remember each of the offenses, and I knew the number was at least twenty, possibly more, but the actual number was lost in the whirl of fear, lust, excitement, anticipation, and something else that aroused whenever My Lady drew near.
I offered weakly “Twenty ma’am?”
She sighed and shook her head, tapping the hairbrush against her hand in silent demonstration.
“Twenty two, my pet. But I told you I wanted you smart and strong only until I told you to be a good little girl for me, my pretty little Wendy doll, so perhaps counting is a bit much for you right now.”
My Lady sounded both amused and indulgent, like a mother of a precocious child, or owner of an amusing pet.
“Now, we can’t very well administer this through all those clothes. You will now strip for me”
Sitting on the hood of her car, My Lady watched as I undressed for her. I pulled the sweat shirt off of my head, and folded it neatly on the freezer. Pulling off my socks, I rolled them neatly and placed them on the folded sweat shirt on top of the freezer. Undoing my button and zipper, I shimmied out of my jeans and folded them neatly to put atop the growing pile of my clothes.
“So methodical.” My Lady mused. “You are methodical about everything, aren’t you?”
I had a moment of panic, I knew how stuffy and conservative, how terribly practical my normal life was. Was I strangling this one island of magic and wonder with my rigidity?
“Sorry My Lady,”. I began “I try to by systematic so I don’t have to waste time wondering where I put things.”
I uncoupled my bra, and let the fabric catch on my turgid nipples before falling forward into my hands. I blushed to know my arousal would be so evident to My Lady, then a moment of horror struck as I realized I was wearing classic cream coloured granny panties. Starkly utilitarian and unlovely. Not what I should greet My Lady in. I turned to apologize, but My Lady silenced me.
“I approve of it. It shows your background and discipline.”
She paused to examine my 48G breasts and the embarrassment of my engorged nipples with a soft chuckle.
“Ah, your nipples are quite outstanding, aren’t they? It must be the cold that is affecting them yes?” Seeing my shame as I attempted to hide my panties as I slid them off she waved the hairbrush at me dismissively.
“No pet, I wanted you naked. Your panties are immaterial.”
Stopping, she turned her head, tapping the hairbrush thoughtfully.
“No, something isn’t quite right.” She mused. Inspiration struck her, and she smiled.
“You will fetch my shoes.” She stated. Once my favorite, she Beylikdüzü escort had told me to give them to her. Since then I clean them for her every night, and leave them on her desk every morning to show I am caring properly for them.
“You will wear them for me tonight, to be my pretty little red headed pet for punishment. Fetch them now.”
I should properly have worried about my husband or daughter seeing me as I stormed inside and upstairs naked, but all I could think about is wanting to get My Lady’s shoes, and to wear them and be pretty for her. I had been infantry long ago, so moving quietly through the dark with a sense of urgency is something I am pretty good at. I do not usually do it stark naked and half mad with lust, but I was young and hormonal when I learned how, so it worked out. My husband mumbled indistinctly as I retrieved the shoes but did not wake.
As I put on the blue satin four inch heels, wearing nothing else, I stood before My Lady. She bid me turn for her under the harsh lights of the garage and her car’s headlights.
“How do you feel?” She purred, like some lazing lioness.
I strutted back and forth, my legs were made longer, my calves turned from sturdy to shapely by the extra inches. The increased arch of my spine caused me to throw back my shoulders and thrust out my breasts. My walk was a swaying strut, not the sexless efficiency of my normal stride, but a wanton display.
“I feel like a stripper!” My blush lit my face and chest, my nipples ached with their engorgement. My sex was growing as flushed and hot as my cheeks. I was so excited by what I was for My Lady.
“Ha ha ha ha!” My Lady laughed, clapping her hands in simple excitement. “Now imagine walking like that, only with your collar on, and the leash in my hand. Perhaps down the hallways of your school at lunch time, or perhaps through the shopping mall on the weekend?”
I almost stumbled as my knees got weak. Maybe in a hundred years I could pretend it was fear.
“Oh god,”. I swore “I am so wet.” My confession seemed to be what My Lady was awaiting for the next step.
“It is time for your punishment.” My Lady began, suddenly serious. A few things before we start.”
This was why she was My Lady, and I was, honestly, I was being unmade as Jan the woman I thought I was. Being remade into her Wendy doll. No thoughts beyond pleasing My Lady, only afraid of failing My Lady, only ashamed of disappointing My Lady.
“You know your limits on pain. I do not want to damage you. I will expect you to be sensible about this.” She was stern, commanding. Fiercely guarding me against my own willingness to disregard my own safety. I am afraid she will leave me if I admit I love her, but how could I not?
I took her command seriously and replied.
“I will go into the pain, but safe word before damage. This is an offering, not a disfigurement.” I told her, meeting her gaze to show I understood and accepted.
“You are also the judge of what marks you can conceal from or explain to your husband. I am aiming for redness, not bruising. I expect my marks to linger on your skin for hours, not days. Have you spanked yourself before, will you be able to tell what is too much?”
My Lady will protect my body, protect my marriage. It is all I can do not to fling myself at her feet in gratitude. I bow my head and admit the truth.
“Yes My Lady, I have spanked myself when masturbating. I remember how it felt when I hit too hard, and what just left burning.” Oh I was shaking now. I could be standing on the Columbia Ice fields and it still wouldn’t be the cold. My Lady was going to put her marks on me. Claim me.
Running the hairbrush smooth back over my breasts, belly, back, ass, and thighs, she reminds me.
“So, we will spank you hard enough that you will feel the burn hours after I leave, but be unmarked for tomorrow. Now, does my little pet remember how many?”
I spoke shakily, my voice betraying my eagerness, or my fear “Twenty-two My Lady.”
My Lady guided me to the big floor mounted freezer and bent me forward over it. Tapping the inside of my thighs with the brush, she had me spread my legs, and pulled back on my long red hair until my heart shaped ass was positioned in a properly aesthetic fashion.
“You will count.” My lady commanded softly.
The first crack was a surprise, landing on my left buttock like a thunderbolt.
“One.” I said, my voice squeaking like some foolish child.
“Two.” I gasp as the second finds the right cheek already tensed in anticipation.
My Lady stroked my derrière casually, as if judging her work. She gave a quiet warning.
“That was an introduction. Now we shall have two each.” She said.
“Three, four.” I grunted. The blows landing on the same spot on the left began to burn. I gripped the lid of the freezer to stay still. My legs wanted to dance like a pony fighting being shod, but I stayed still.
“Five, six”. I groaned, my helplessness before her making this a hundred Beylikdüzü escort times better, or worse. Now both cheeks were on fire.
Her hands caressing again, soft chuckle showing her amusement. “How does that feel, pet?”
It wasn’t enough to surrender my body, she wanted my mind and spirit deconstructed before her, and offered to her by my own will and word.
“The burn in my ass is building. I feel the blood hammering in my temples, a fire burning not just in my ass, but my nipples, my pussy as well.” I confess humbly; I can deny her nothing.
She smiles. “Two more each cheek I think!” My Lady offered cheerfully.
“Seven, eight.” I whimper, now flinching before each blow.
“Nine, TEN! Thank you My Lady”. Oh god, I am thanking her for spanking me, and I mean it.
She pats my scarlet and well heated tushy fondly, and I barely suppress a groan as I helplessly thrust back against her hand.
“I should have brought my pencil.” I mutter, referring to the pencil she used to gag me previously.
My Lady smiled, looked up at where sleeping husband and daughters slumbered, and smirked. “You are supposed to be clever. I am sure you can come up with something. Now, stand up. I am done with your arse.”
Looking around, I saw my ugly granny panties rolled neatly into a tube with my clothes. I grabbed them and put them between my teeth like a horse’s bit.
My Lady smiled. “Perfect. Now, stand with your hands behind your head. Do you know what part comes next pet?” She inquired brightly.
I knew what was next. As much as I feared it, I also needed to bear her marks on them. I mumbled around my panties.
This got a single finger flick to my nose as My Lady corrected me.
“They are now my breasts, and you will be very careful with them!” In her sternness was such care, even as she punished me. My Lady felt sensitive about her own breast size, although I found them as perfect as a Greek statue. When she cast her gaze upon my own, larger, chest for play or punishment it made me feel like I at last had something of worth to offer her.
First cupping and raising my left breast by the nipple, My Lady looked me in the eye and spanked the underside sharply, letting my breast fall.
“Eleven” I mouthed around my panties, but I don’t know if it was intelligible.
I whimpered as she lifted my heavy right breast by the nipple and gave it a ringing slap with the hairbrush on the underside. Her eyes drinking my submission, her hands upon my breasts, my god. They were hers! Her breasts. Touch them, take them mark them. Not mine, HERS!
“Twelve”. I groaned, clenching my thighs. A strange almost electric current ran from my breasts down my spine and into my clit with every blow.
Now moving to the side, she smacked my left breast from the side, enjoying both my groan and the bouncing of my heavy breast. Moving across my front, she stung my right breast with a precision blow.
Running her fingers across them, looking at the rising scarlet ovals on the snowy skin of my bosom, she gave us both a moment to appreciate her marks on my breasts. Truly, they were her breasts now.
Smiling coldly, she placed the brush back gently on the top of my left nipple. Letting my eyes go wide with fear before flicking the brush down with a stinging slap on the top of the breast and areola of my left nipple.
“Fifteen.” At least I tried to say it. Even I didn’t understand it through my drool-soaked panties.
“Sixteen.” I tried to croak. I was on fire. I wanted to beg her to stop. I wanted to beg her to keep going; to go harder. I was not in charge.
Once more on the left, grazing the top of the nipple but not striking it.
Once more on the right, the shock from each slap ran from nipple to brain, shot to every nerve, then exploded in my pussy. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
My Lady pulled my panties out of my mouth, and ran her hands down my cheek, turning my head up to meet her gaze.
I was babbling as soon as she pulled my gag out.
“I want to beg for you so loud, to cry for you, to thank you, to bless you.” I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hide it. My confessions were pouring out with no attempts at pride or pretense.
My Lady stilled my embarrassment with her left index finger to my lips.
“Shh, now.” She said in the slightly sing song voice used to teach small children and the simple minded. “All that can come later, my little Wendy doll.”
My mind went still at her words. Jan the conflicted teacher, the wife, the mother was gone. I was only her Wendy doll now. I didn’t need to think. Just obey and please. I smiled shyly.
“Now how many was that?” My Lady asked gently. “Think back, add them up.”
She looked at me patiently, like the parent of a small child, or owner of a dim but entertaining pet. My mind on fire, my body a hot spring of lust, pain, submission, and need; oh such need. My little Wendy doll mind knew how to obey, and so wanted to please.
“Eighteen, Escort Beylikdüzü I think My Lady.” I offered hopefully.
She smiled, pleased at her pet’s cleverness. “Now four more are left. Spread your legs wide as you can in those heels. Push your hips forward.”
Her hand caressed my belly, and she spoke so gently.
“Wendy you look like a whore. You look like such a beautiful whore!”
I couldn’t help myself. Those words exploded in me and the truth poured out.
“I am your whore! Anything for My Lady” I cried joyfully.
“Wendy is your name when you’re like this, isn’t it? I’ve worked out when your name changes. When Jan has dripped away down your thighs.” Her tone was pure triumph.
I confessed what we both knew. “Yes! Your Wendy. Your whore. Your little brainless bundle of needs searching for her goddess.”
“One” she cried, slapping the inside of my thigh. The hairbrush squelched wetly against my slut drenched thigh.
“Two”. She struck at the right thigh this time, very high. Grinning, she wiped the wet brush back against my cheek before returning to the last strokes. The smell of my arousal was thick in each gasping breath now.
“Three.” She slashed precisely at the top of my thigh where it touched the groin. I felt the fine bristles on my pubic hair.
Unconsciously I moved into the final blow, and whimpered as it caught the base of my right labia.
“Clumsy slut!” My Lady murmured, testing my pussy for damage. I pushed into her hand desperately.
“And we are finished Wendy. It doesn’t feel like we are finished though, does it?”
I was frantic. Don’t let it end. Please goddess, do not let it end! “No, My Lady!” I cried out.
“You need two more, but you have to ask for them.” She purred.
“I am your toy, I live only for your use. Please may I offer two more?” I almost felt like a clever Wendy doll.
“Yes. But where? I know you know. It’s where we have been walking together with your brush.” My Lady’s tone was cajoling. When I was Jan, I used that tone to get bright students who were almost to the answer to trust themselves enough to take the final leap.
“Please may you spank your Wendy doll on her needy cunt?” I was so proud I found the right answer, so sure I was being good for her.
She drew back the brush to strike my pussy, and mindlessly I thrust it forward at her. She snarled at me in response.
“Be careful with that! It is mine.” Oh god, it was. I was. She took better care of me than I did. I was better off as hers.
The brush slapped down. I whimpered, but she kept the brush pressed against me. I began grinding into it, humping it, as she whispered “One more.”
The final slap stopped me from going over the edge, but then she pressed it to me and I humped into the pain towards mindlessness again.
“Go ahead and grind. While you grind, think about what you are.” My Lady commanded.
I couldn’t stop myself. The truth just tore from me with each fevered gyration.
“Your whore.” Marriage vow or no, I would perform with any man or woman she ordered.
“Your guard dog.” God help anyone who harmed her!
“Your pet”. I would take any punishment, if she would lower herself to give it to me.
She spoke only a single word to prove she realized what I was trying not to say. “And?”
I let the lesser of the two secrets out. “YOUR SLAVE!”
She laughed and kissed my forehead. “My pretty little pet, slave, and whore took her punishment well. Now for your reward. Get on your back and spread those legs of yours wide.”
I dropped flat on the cold concrete, spreading my legs wide. My Lady gripped the broad head of the hairbrush and offered the handle to my mouth. I sucked the thick flaring wooden handle like a cock, as My Lady’s fingers stroked around my clit, causing me to shiver and shake beneath her.
Sliding the handle up and down my slit, before pushing its blunt head into my sopping sex, My Lady looked deep into my eyes before using slow gentle pressure to push the brush handle into my tight and lonely vagina.
Have you ever felt a woman take you with a dildo? They don’t just hammer it in. They watch your face, your belly, your hips, and start by matching your pace. Then they push it. Not fucking your pussy, fucking you. My Lady drove me insane, words driving as deep in my brain as the brush was driving into my pussy.
“Fucking you like a bitch, and you deserve it. My bitch, my guard dog. My whore.”
Each thrust hammered home her ownership, and my helplessness.
I was crying, I was on fire. Pleasure so intense it could be pain. Sensation overwhelming reason, overwhelming emotion, stripping away my very humanity.
My Lady was commanding now, harsh.
“Give me what is mine. Come for me dog.”
I came. Thrashing and bucking, only My Lady’s hand on my neck kept me from smashing the back of my head against the garage floor when I snapped in half before throwing myself flat again, riding the all consuming wave of orgasm.
“Good bitch. Good girl. Good slave. Good whore. Good.” She held me as I came down. Crying.
She kissed my hair and held me to her chest. “Those tears are mine too. I gave them to you.” She hugged me fiercely. “Take all the time that you need”
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