#17) Her Test of Him

Look at her eyes. They’re looking back at you. With an arrogance that borders on defiance.
Then she opens her mouth, choosing her words carefully. “Make no mistake, I knew what I was doing. I knew the rules. I broke them. On purpose. Just to see what you would do about it…”
Because you’ve trained her consistently and well in the short time she’s known you, and because of her innate submissive nature, she’s been watching you. Those big blue eyes have observed everything. She knows that she’s accomplished her goal. Her tone and underlying attitude changes. She’s seen the reaction her words have caused in you. Her words are barely audible now, just a whisper.
“What are you gonna do about it…?”
Because you are you, meaning an authentic, dyed-in-the-wool Top, you don’t see the need to raise your voice or get angry or histrionic. Your eyes continue to hold her gaze, while your hands move to your waist. They undo your belt buckle. You pull the supple leather through the pants loops, making the sound of a slithering snake. She knows that she’s gonna get bit. She can’t help herself, she rubs her pudendum against the fabric of the couch. It’s coarse and scratchy against her bare skin, a drop-cloth covering the old leather couch while your house’s interior undergoes a fresh coat of paint. The leather makes noises under her undulating squirm, it seems to burp or fart. Her tummy suddenly feels a little queasy. Her nipples are suddenly as erect as her clitoris. She’s short of breath. She lays her head down on its left side, still looking at you, but braced for what’s to come.
You double the long leather in your right hand. You’ve trained yourself to be ambidextrous for just such occasions, so switch the belt to your left hand as your right touches her in the center of her back, down low, between those exquisite sacral dimples that you’ve kissed a thousand times. You pin her in place.
She opens her thighs a bit, knowing that it will expose the inner curves of her buttocks to the belt, but also feeling the contact of her now-open vagina with that wonderfully scratchy tan cloth.
“Count your belt licks aloud, young lady,” you instruct. She nods her comprehension, as she licks her lips in preparation with a darting tongue. She slowly closes her eyes, the anticipation too much.
“One!” she yells out, letting the word supplant the yelp that has to answer the painful stripe.
Tears moisten her eyelashes almost immediately, as does jism her pubic muff. She dutifully enumerates each lash. It is an unhurried, methodical, thorough chastisement. It reminds her of a metronome, set to an agonizingly slow speed. The interval between lashes gives her plenty of time to absorb the hurt, count aloud, and then fearfully anticipate the next. Being leisurely, it is all the more suspenseful. Just what she needed. After the fifty fifth stripe, her voice breaks into pure sobs.
“Are you going to willfully break the rules again?”
She shakes her head vigorously. Instead of puddling beneath her pretty face, tears fly off her long lashes emphatically.
“Good girl.”
Those are the words she’s been longing to hear, the motivation for her misbehaviors in the first place. She was testing you. Her criteria were very clear in her mind. You shouldn’t be cruel with the deserved discipline. But you shouldn’t be lenient, either. Either quality would have flunked you. This blond found it a Goldilocks strapping, one that was just right. You’ve passed. It’s like you formed a strong bond, signed some iron-clad contract by passing. She looks at you differently now, a look that can only be called adoration. And then she lowers her gaze. But she isn’t a spineless submissive, one who lives only to obey, with eyes kept on the floor you walk over. Her gaze rests on your sex. She sees that it’s as aroused as hers. She rolls over onto her left hip on the couch, opens her arms to welcome you into a passionate embrace. You own her, she’s all yours, for the moment. But she’ll test you again. Continuously, probably sooner than you expect. To renew your contract, you’ll have to dish out another perfectly executed punishment whenever her need arises. Such is the responsibility of being the Top to a bottom as challenging as this one. She is a Matterhorn of a woman, one who needs conquering, not just because “she’s there” (as a great mountain-climber once stated of the monumental precipice), but because she is so innately demanding, uniquely intriguing, so her. For this blissful moment, her eyes are soft, and her sex is wet, and her bum is replete with stinging stripes, and she longs only to please you, as you have pleased her.

7 responses to “#17) Her Test of Him”

  1. I ran across this photo on the Internet, and this model’s eyes stopped me. (I normally don’t like photos of slender, antiseptic-looking, posed people.) But this photo inspired me to spin a background story. I wanted to write it so that the protagonist could be male, female, non-binary. (I normally like to develop my characters fairly fully, at least with first names, but…) I hope you like it; if so, please write to tell me!


  2. I was just about to log off and do some painting when I saw you posted again. So…………your story described a personality not alien to me back in the days where I occasionally Topped. (Yes, I CAN switch.) Subs who challenge are ………………………….challenging. I find it interesting that in your piece the sub is evaluating the Top to see if he/she “passed” her test. When I am in “Top-mode” I find this to be a delicate dance between intriguing and wearying. It can hover and sway, and hopefully never venture into the tedious territory of a sub who is more of a pain-in-the-ass than the actual pain in their ass. My personal goal with this type of sub was to get them at some point, not to apologize, not to cry, not to lust for me, but to admit that their submission and whatever ordeal I put them through was desired. (I wrote a pretty long M/f story about this a long time ago called Alternate Lifestyle/Alternate Reality where the woman was so strong and independent that others assumed she was a Top, and the guy who Tops her is a switch who was initially interested is subbing to her…only to have it all spin about.)

    But…………….I will say that I like that you provided that look into her head, rather than just a narrative of discipline since the latter alone is as boring as daytime TV. So thanks for triggering some fond memories from my own past with this sexy little venture in the present.


  3. Dear Julie,
    That is one of the NICEST compliments of my writing that I’ve received recently; thank you!
    I have a naughty confession to make (I promised myself when I started this blog that I’d let my sexuality out & I’m going to do that here & now). When I saw your masked photo on your blog, I was enchanted, smitten, completely disarmed. I couldn’t help but imagine a scene with you! I won’t be more graphic than that here, but let me just say it is a very evocative photo…


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