#418) Few Words (Part I)

She had what they call British Reserve, had it in spades. It wasn’t just Evelyn’s high class English accent, it was everything about her. She seemed like a fish out of water living in Santa Barbara, in Southern California. She was patrician pale, always wearing a wide brimmed hat or slathered in sun block, never venturing to the scenic beach. But she was doing research at the university there, research into the Taliban in Afghanistan, so in that sense she belonged. Her handsome colleague, Josh, who’d just started dating her, wondered if Evelyn ever lost her cool, yelled, ranted. If so, he’d never seen it while getting to know her.
They’d just gotten to “know” one another in the Biblical sense of the word. The sex was good, satisfying, they’d both reached orgasm during each of their several dates thus far. But at the same time, something gave Josh the feeling that even if she was an iceberg, there was so much more to her under the surface that he hadn’t been able to fathom. In conversations in restaurants, bars, and living rooms, they seemed to have a lot in common, including an interest in kink. But in their bedrooms, they kept missing connections. He rolled off her after this fuck, laid beside her; she tucked the sheet around herself modestly, as if the bed was her coffin, wiped the beads of sweat from her brow with its percale hem.
“That was nice,” he panted.
“Yes, very,” she smiled in return.
Then he leaned in close to whisper, “Nice isn’t good enough, Evelyn. Not when it comes to sex! Do you have any fantasies, things you’ve never shared with anyone, things that really do it for you… sexually? …If you do, I wish you’d share them with me… I want our sex to be fucking fantastic!”
There was a long pause. So long, Josh wondered if he’d offended Evelyn’s sensibilities. Finally she spoke.
“I feel I can trust you, Josh, I’m not sure why… If I do, do you promise that you’ll never speak about it? Not with another living soul… and with me only here, in bed, in total confidence…? Josh raised his right hand as if solemnly swearing. It lightened the tense mood. She smiled. “Turn out the light, please.” She’d only allowed one light to be on, turned only half way up on its dimmer to reveal vague images as they played mild spanking games and did it in the missionary position. But unlike when she’d given those instructions, now her voice took on a husky tone. She was speaking directly from her psyche, from some primal place deep in her essence, from her cunt. “I want to role play… springing out of my interest in my métier, the Taliban and their retaking of Afghanistan… call me Eve during the role play, but use as few words as possible. That’s key, your anonymity as an Afghan terrorist is important in my arousal… What I’m going to share is indefensible. If it happened in real life, it’d be traumatic and wrong! But it’s my fantasy, so it’s fine… Is this all fine with you…?”
“Yes… and thank you for entrusting me with this…!” he said softly.
Evelyn took a deep breath and started painting in the vivid colors of her technicolor dream. It was like a coloring book page that she filled-in her way. It was so elaborate a creation that they decided to put the actual role play off until the next night, and spend the time until then prepping props, etc.

He approached her on her patio, which they were pretending was an open air marketplace.
“Come!” he commanded.
“Uh, I know that I’m not supposed to be out of doors without a male escort, but I had to…”
He took her by the elbow and roughly led her inside.
“I’m a British citizen. I’d like to speak to our British ambassador.”
He just persisted in leading her away.
“As a British citizen, I’m not bound by law to have to wear the burka…”
They were now in her bedroom, which they were imagining to be the Taliban headquarters’ interrogation room. There was a sign on the wall saying, “All detainees are to strip for searching.” Eve looked up at it.
“Does that pertain to me?” He just looked back at her stoically. “Shouldn’t there be a female guard present?” Silence. She slowly began removing her light blue shift with trembling hands. She willed herself to look back at her captor as she stood before him in bra and panties. He didn’t look satisfied. “What you’re doing isn’t right! By your own Sharia law!” He stared into her eyes; she lowered hers as she removed the bra and then her underwear.
Eve did what every embarrassed, bare assed woman naturally does, she put one forearm across her breasts and covered her pudendum with the other arm’s cupped hand. Her captor was in no hurry. He let his eyes wander all around her willowy form as if she was an oasis’ garden, he stared at her perfectly symmetrical facial features for a long moment. Then his hand shot out and tapped her elbow harshly. She lowered the offending arm, let it mirror its twin by covering her sex, as he stared at her breasts. He didn’t know what a cupcake was, but he knew that these confections were pert and high placed, would be just as pretty in twenty years because they were small but firm. Under his icy stare, her nipples seemed to crinkle up and harden before them both faster than if his gaze was an actual cube of cold. He imagined their pink hue darkening as he pinched them, darkening even more if he were to bite. He wondered if they’d ever been pinched hard or bitten mercilessly. He was sure that she had never been whipped there, but that might change soon. His gaze dropped lower as he walked slowly behind the quaking figure. Her buttocks were slim, tight, there again high set and firm. He had the same series of unasked questions about her buttocks. Surely she’d been pinched there, maybe bitten he thought with a smile, possibly spanked but not caned. That would be sure to change, that was what she was here for. He completed his circle around Eve.
“Are hands covering a virginal vagina?” he growled in accented English.
“…No…” she admitted, head down, hands trying to protect it all the more. She knew that this would be hugely offensive for an unmarried fundamentalist-Islamic woman to state. She only did so because she feared that he might finger her to verify a virginity she might falsely claim.
“You know Sharia law?” he interrogated.
“Yes, I have studied it, and your Quran, and the differences…”
He looked at her with fire in his cold eyes. She knew that to him, his beliefs were the fulfilment of his holy book, that there were no differences. He took her by the elbow once again, turned her toward the wooden bench that lined the wall. This was the handiwork of Josh’s carpentry skills from the day’s efforts. It looked like a long picnic table bench (it’s actual basis), but with embellishments. On one end, a contraption that held her ankles in place was fitted around Eve’s slender joints. On the other end were ropes to bind her wrists overhead, which they now did. In the middle, her middle was raised by a bolster, offering that cute, tight butt up. There was also a belt to secure her around the waist. In an adapted umbrella stand two feet in front of the bench, many thin canes were amassed. The restraining of Eve across this apparatus was achieved easily if humiliatingly. When her wrists were taken from their protective pose to raise and bind overhead, her arousal was clearly evident on her pubic bush. Without a single word being shared between them, both people’s minds drifted to another English person who shared Eve’s predicament. Thomas Edward Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia was once taken prisoner by Muslims. If his personal letters are to be believed he was tortured, tied down to a bench like this one and whipped. It is rumored that he became sexually excited by the whipping, so his captors raped him, anally sodomized him. These images ran through the minds of both captor and captive, Muslim and Christian, sadist and masochist, the robe draped man and the stark naked woman. With those images omnipresent in the white walled room, he took the first cane from the collection and brandished it.
One of the questions Josh had asked Evelyn the night before in the dark was about this.
“What is the hardest caning you’ve endured up to this point?”
She was short of breath, though their lovemaking was long past, when she answered, “Twenty stripes… I was high as a kite on endorphins, so I hardly felt some of them… the count doesn’t matter as much as the head space you take me to… I want a memorable thrashing… I want the full Lawrence treatment…”
“We’ll need a safeword,” he insisted.
“I had one with my last lover, the last time I tried to recreate this role play, and never needed it…”
“Did that recreation meet all your needs, fulfill your deepest fantasies?” he persisted.
Quickly convinced by this clear-cut argument, Evelyn answered, “Let’s use ‘aardvark’, no, I choose ‘armadillo’ as a safeword. It’ll never come up in normal conversation between our characters…” Then she breathlessly added, “Josh… please make me use that safeword… be so hard on me that I have to say it…!”
Josh was a spanker. He loved nothing more than to bare the bottom of a fellow, female spanko, worship her backside by kissing it and fondling it and massaging it and then soundly spanking it. Leaving her contrite, perhaps in tears, but certainly very well spanked was his idea of nirvana. What he’d agreed to with Evelyn was beyond his preferences, but not beyond his experience. He’d had another girlfriend who was a sensation junkie, who enjoyed his hard spankings up until she confided that she wanted more. They experimented with straps and leather implements, then moved up to wooden paddles, getting ever larger and more lethal, finally playing heavily with whips and crops and canes. Josh indulged her desires to please her, even though their serious play didn’t feed him, but this girlfriend ended up leaving Josh, giving the excuse that she wanted someone truly cruel as a lover, as a Top. So, with that baggage, he was intent on meeting Eve’s needs unequivocally.
So Eve watched the guard take a cane in hand and bend it ominously. But instead of standing to the side and beginning her beating, he straddled over her middle. She felt him take a pinch of her tight butt cheeks in each hand, part her wide, bring his face down into her crack so close that she could feel his hot breath on her there. Josh saw that Evelyn had lubricating her anus with lots of KY gel, as her fantasy prescribed. But the Taliban guard spat on Eve’s winking anus, as if that would be the only thing making his cruel desires manageable.
In heavily accented English, the terrorist said, “I will now punish your law-breaking. When all of your wrongs are accounted for, I will take my pleasure from you… here,” and he spat on her rosebud once more before releasing her cheeks. “I will take you like I would a boy…”
“No!” Eve gasped.
“Yes,” the guard replied with a smile. “Now, recount your wrongs, one by one…” and he did step to the side, tap her buttocks with the cane from his position, and waited for her to obey.
Accepting her fate, Eve began her recitation. “I did go to the marketplace without a male escort, but I had to, I don’t have…”
The whistle of the cane through the air interrupted Eve. The loud report of thin hardwood impacting round, soft flesh replaced her words. He had administered another one before the shock faded enough for Eve to scream in anguish. He punished her with several more severe stripes, then stopped and tapped her again.
“Your next offense..” he leered.
“Let that be enough, please! It hurts terribly…!

Whht! Crack! “Your next wrong-doing…?” the guard demanded.
Through her sobs, Eve returned, “I wasn’t wearing the requisite burka…”
The cane answered this confession with a series of stripes. Eve shrieked and cried, as Evelyn rubbed her aroused sex against the bolster. Josh observed her body language closely as the guard seemed unmovable and beat her more.
“Next…” the guard interrogated.
“I attended school as a woman when I know that it is forbidden…”
More lashes answered this offense, as did her tearful oral report of having the audacity to speak to her professor.
“That is all…” Eve sobbed.
“You are wearing make-up!” he barked, and started administering yet another set of stripes.
“Please! That’s all my backside can stand!” she begged with red welts covering her buttocks and the backs of her legs to the knee joint.
The terrorist guard undid the fastener around her feet, as well as the leather strap around her waist, lifted the supine figure and turned her over. He caught her with a lash between the legs and another sideways across her sex. “You have lacquer on fingernails, lipstick on your mouth, make-up around your eyes…” and he whipped the fresh, unmarked, tender flesh of her pudendum, moving up her belly, across her vulnerable breasts. The cane stung her pink nipples particularly.
One long anguished scream ended with the articulated words, “I wish I were an armadillo so I could roll into a ball and protect my tender tummy!”
The guard dropped the thin rod. It clattered on the wooden floor. He lifted her and turned her over once more, as if she was some edible and he was a chef, basting her on each side. He reattached the restraint around her ankles. He unzipped his khaki trousers, took out his rampant manhood, as he stood astride the bench and the girl once more. Now he tapped her welted rump with this thick weapon, just as he had with the thin cane. He trailed the head of the huge thing down her ass crack, he nudged it in between her swollen sex’ lips.
“Where do you want this…?”
“Please… No…!”
He felt his cockhead moistened by the copious juices that flowed from her swollen sex.
“You are correct. You should not be pleasured. You deserve only pain…”
He parted her and dragged his cock up an inch, placed it against her anus, and pushed. His manhandling of her thrashed buttocks was agony, the penetration of her tight, virgin anus was worse. If he’d been a man of normal proportion it would’ve been worse, but because the guard was well endowed, his rude entrance up her rear exit was beyond anything Eve could have imagined. When she had lost her virginity vaginally, she had thought about mother England and endured the experience. Every time thereafter was a repeat of the same. This time it was indescribable, it was unspeakable to be rogered where he was taking her, like some barnyard beast. What is more, this man had other-worldly endurance, he didn’t fuck for mere minutes, he plowed her rear dimple for an eternity. Deeply thrusting into her bowels so that his lean belly ground into her bum crack, then withdrew his length, so far as to pull that cockhead out of her delicate valve of a butt hole, only to repeat the entire dirty enterprise all over again. It burned like a second sun. It was a sin that should never see the light of day. Eve found it phenomenal! She did not want to betray her damned desire for this unspeakable act to her tormentor, but her body could not mask its appetite for the ass fucking. She involuntarily arched up as he withdrew his cock, her body language screaming that she wanted more, hungered for his cock. Of course, being disconnected mentally when she’d had sex in the conventional way kept her from climaxing. This time, being so humiliated, so defiled, for so long an interval, something strange was building inside her. Its explosiveness surprised her. She only had time to articulate a cross between a hymn to the heavens and a guttural groan to the godless. She had that rarest of sexual feats, the assgasm. It made her grip the guard in her velvet vice. This proved too much for Josh, and he climaxed heartily, filling Evelyn’s Bundt cake with cream.
Human capabilities came back to the two as they started to feel human (as opposed to angels or demons) again. He got up and released her from her bonds. She stood up shakily and embraced him closely. Josh needed this hug, he was experiencing Dom drop.
“Did I… hurt you…?”
“Yes. Masterfully. Magnificently. Memorably…” Evelyn kissed Josh passionately. Both hoped that the kiss might last forever. That way they wouldn’t have to debrief and deal with things like guilt and kink. But it didn’t, so when they came up for air, she summarized things succinctly. “First, thank you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the best sex of my life! Second, we don’t have to try ‘to hit for the fences’ often. I’m fine with letting weeks go by with just frequent spankings and straight sex. But if you’ll role play with me once a month or so, wear me out, like you just did, I will fall so deeply in love with you, I will do anything for you, including wear a slave collar or an engagement ring or whatever your heart and cock desire…!”
Josh, always a man of few words, replied in kind, “Sounds good.” His mind was fully preoccupied with thought, unable to entertain much speech. He found Evelyn indescribably delicious, like English treacle, now that he knew her inner-most secret. He found Eve a worthy adversary for his Topping skills, a sub with an unquenchable appetite for discipline. He couldn’t deny that she had just pulled the most intense orgasm of his life out of him and up her tight ass. He smiled back at the English rose in his arms, kissed her. “What about the scene needs refinement, lover?” he then inquired.
“Nothing!” she declared without equivocation. “It was perfect! Let’s not talk about it any further, just give me a repeat performance in a month… please! Is that agreeable, Josh?”
“Yes. I want to sleep-over tonight, sleep with you in my arms, okay?” he said, pulling the make-shift posterboard sign about detainees being strip-searched that he’d written in magic maker from the wall.
“Yes… sir… I’d love it!”
“And tomorrow morning, I’m going to spank your striped ass, so that you’ll be squirming all day. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, I’d love it…!” Evelyn loved being told this in advance, so that she could anticipate it with dread, fear it with desire, crave it with her whole heart and heart-shaped bum.
So the parameters of their relationship were defined, like a coloring book page that they were finishing together, cooperatively as partners in the light of day, and as a D/s couple in the darkened bedroom.

5 responses to “#418) Few Words (Part I)”

  1. WOW!!
    That, my dear Jean Marie , was a remarkably erotic story!
    I sadistically liked the part where he warned her that he was going to spank her striped backside the next day and even in her pain she heartily heartedly encouraged him with a “YES!! Sir I’d love it! What a fantastic woman !!!
    Thanx bunches and bunches for this story!

    Liked by 1 person

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