the Leathermines

He looked at the single sheet of writing paper I had just handed him from the ream I had brought with me.  He was confused and looked back up at me.  “Paper?”

I nodded.  He looked at it, trying to see if it was more than the plain, store bought lined paper it was.  I watched his confusion and frustration grow.

I handed him a pen.  “Twenty lines.”

A flash of pain went across his face, but he knew not to argue.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

It was a simple sentence, but it took him a while to write it as he was kneeling on the floor with his pants around his ankles.  I waited and when he sat back up, I stood and held my hand out for the page.  He had rushed on a few of the lines, but it was not the lines that was the point of the punishment.

I smiled, but not kindly.  “Stand.”  I took the pen from him as he stood, his bunched pants making it difficult for him to stand for a second.  I marked the errors on the page and turned so that he could see the marks I put on the paper.

I walked to the open space on the wall and judged his height.  I held the page onto the wall with my finger and moved so he could see.  “Come here.”

He shuffled over and looked at the paper where I had marked it.  He grimaced, but did not say anything.  I positioned him and held his forehead against the wall, holding the paper to the wall, his eyes too close to see it, but he knew what was on the page.

“Stay there until I say you can move.  And don’t let the page fall.”

I hadn’t done this type of scene with him before.  He had originally asked for flog and chain and cutting when we first met a year before.  He had been a good client, but he had pissed me off the last time when he complained as he was helping me take my toy bag to the car.  It had prompted this scene.

I had come in, wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase.  Even the shoes I was wearing was business street-wear.  I had him kneel and tell me the bad things he had done since he and I had been together, a ritual that he had started the second session we had done.  Then I opened the case and brought out the paper.

As he stood at the wall, I took more paper and chained it together, folding it and connecting it without tearing or using tape.  I had almost four feet worth done when the natural body mechanic of leaning back took ahold of my client and the paper slipped to the floor.

I laughed.  He cringed.

“I thought you said you could hold up under any punishment I gave you?”  I sighed and stood, holding the end of the chained paper in one hand.  “Turn and center yourself.  Kneel.”

He did as he was told and I saw that the situation had started to excite him, even if the scene didn’t make sense to him.

I had the paper off the floor and looked at it.  I could see the oils from his forehead on it, a slight moistness drying where he had been breathing on it.  I smiled and crumpled the paper up in one hand.

The wad of paper went into his mouth.  His eyes brightened as he realized that he was just gagged, one of his favorite restraints.  I wound the paper rope around him and had him hold it, an end in either hand, with his arms behind him.

A few more sheets of paper came out of the ream.  As he was watching me, I twisted a few long ways and then wrapped those with another piece.  I put that one down and had another, clean, un-rumpled piece in my hand.

“Do not drop or tear the paper rope.  Understand?”  He nodded and watched as I came towards him with just the paper.

He moaned.  I had not been able to get him to moan for several sessions.  The change was what he needed, even if it was prompted by his being an arrogant piggy bottom.  I was using the edge of the page to make papercuts on his upper arms and shoulders.  It was not as good as a knife or surgical steel, but it was enough.

I saw his arms flex and reached for the tube of paper just as the paper rope broke.  Little time was between that and me hitting him on the papercuts with the paper.  His head went back and he sucked in his breath around the wad of paper in his mouth.  He had tears rimming his eyes but a smile around the paper gag.

One of the cuts was bleeding.  I took a page and pressed it to the blood, holding it until it stayed by it’s self.  I grabbed his hair and looked into his eyes.

“I told you not to break that.”  My hand came towards him and he struggled to stay upright after the palm of my hand impacted his cheek.  I pulled on his hair and he landed on the floor, his arms still behind him as though he were bound.

I must admit, I took out a few frustrations on him.  I used open-handed strikes on him, covering his chest where I could reach.  The sounds were loud in the room and my hands stung a little, but it felt good.  At least on my end.

My client started to wiggle, trying to get away from the strikes.  I moved to his ass and sat on his back when he rolled to his front.  I spanked him with my hands, bringing up a beautiful red on his ass until I switched to fists and started to pound on the center of the flesh on each cheek.

He more than moaned.  He was gasping and starting to call out around the paper gag.  I reached back and found that the paper on the cut was still stuck to him, so I pulled on it, ripping the small scab open and making him writhe beneath me.

I let him calm down before I stood up and went to the chair.  I paused and took out a few more pages and put them on the floor leading to the chair.

“Crawl to me.”  I was sitting and watched as he got up and went to all fours.  He did not have to be told that he had to follow the paper trail.  I smiled at that as he came to my feet.

“I would like you to do two things for me.”

His head came up, but he did not look at my eyes.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

“First, I want you to write another line for me.  ‘My Domme is right and I am a piggy bottom.’  I think thirty this time.”

He nodded.

“Second, I have my bag in the car.”  I reached into the briefcase and pulled out a lacy piece.  “I want you to wear just this as you get it for me.”

His eyes went from the panties to my eyes.  He stopped himself from speaking for a moment, but had to say, “Just that?”

I nodded.

He stood, his feet still on the paper I had laid out.  I watched as he undressed fully and put on the panties.  I did not laugh, but I did smile.  I gave him more paper and the pen and he knelt to do his second set of lines.

Never tell a Domme that she can’t do a scene without fancy equipment.