#767) Being Your Good Girl Is Too Heavy a Price for Me To Pay

John came back into their living room with an armful of implements. Mary was sitting on the striped divan, just as he’d left her. The defiant look on her face said that his sound spanking of her bottom had done little good.
“Have you been thinking about your punishment to come?” he asked in typical Top fashion.
“Among other things,” Mary answered, in keeping with her brattish personality.
John had been debating in his mind how hard to bear down on this little terror of a submissive. He would have preferred to punish Mary with ever-increasingly harsh implements only until she relented, apologized. That was because John was infatuated with Mary’s phat ass; he hated to blemish it with bruises when he could be worshiping it as he fucked her from behind. But that belligerent comment sealed the deal; Mary needed a good lesson, a long-overdue thrashing. He laid out the weapons of ass destruction along the opposite side of the divan from where Mary sat, on the floor, so that she couldn’t see. In order, a leather belt, leather paddle, wooden paddle, ping pong paddle, leather tawse, plimsole sneaker, rattan cane; not all of their combined implements from the toy chest in the bedroom, but a good cross-section, enough to get his message across loud and clear.
“Turn over the edge of the divan. Stick your ass out,” he quietly commanded. John expected Mary to make some smart-assed comment, at the very least mimic him in a sing-song voice, but she didn’t. She obeyed, arched her adorable bottom right out, and cut a long flatulent fart.
“What? There’s more room out here than there is in there…” she responded to the look of astonishment on her Top’s face. This excuse didn’t seem to excuse the gesture, so she added, “You wouldn’t have wanted me to fart in your face, would you?”
John picked up the supple yet thick belt from off the striped pad, doubled it in his hand, and came around to Mary’s side of the couch-like seat. Without further ado, he let her have twenty hard licks with the leather, fast enough so that he was certain it would take her breath away. Please that he only heard her labored breathing, he put this implement back and brought out the round leather paddle. This one had a more focused impact than the belt. John concentrated the blows on the lower portion of Mary’s ample ear end, the sit spots. Twenty blistering licks were certain to tenderize this target area for later.
That was when witchy Mary chose to stir the cauldron. “You would’ve thought that December was too late for mosquitos, but I swear I just felt one bite me on the butt…”
The experienced Top didn’t let the smart-mouthed submissive goad him. He simply let the hardwood do the talking, first with the hairbrush-sized paddle all over the expanse of her bottom, then with the stinging ping pong paddle focused on those sit spots once more. He was reminded of Asian masters at this sport, how they took shots with a full-armed swing when trying to rocket the ball past their opponent.
Nothing got by Mary. She took the vigorous volley while keeping her bottom proffered for more. What was that old advertising slogan she’d read in a collector’s edition of a Look magazine she saw in an antique shop? Oh, yeah, “Timex, it takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’.” That was her cast-iron butt more than any wristwatch, she told herself.
While all of this was going on in her mind, Mary didn’t notice that John had replaced the paddles with the Scottish tawse. Her gave her twin orbs a swipe with this specialized leather tool, heard its satisfying loud crack as it contacted her soft tush, say the wide swath of white across her already reddened backside. He watched the impact then turn to an even deeper shade of magenta on the background of her backside, even saw the edge-marks where the ribbons of this implement had made their mark. He then heard the soul-satisfying sound of his submissive sob. Just once, until she was able to choke the emotion back and stand stoically once more, bent over deeply at the waist, offering her broad beam to his beating. He was getting through to the hardened bottom, both sub Mary and her bared butt. Like a blacksmith of old, who would strike while the forged metal was hot, John laid another vicious stroke across her red-hot fanny. It bounced under the impact, then the muscles flexed and stilled the rippling effect. Another lick caressed her mercilessly, then another. And another muffled cry escaped Mary’s throat.
The impact of the heavy leather strap nearly made Mary gasp each time it bit into her soft flesh, but the real impact came a second later, as each one of those length-wise cuts along the strap’s tail end made themselves felt on Mary’s tail end. Each one had an edge that felt like it cut like a knife’s edge. Mary would have sworn that the skin was broken and that she was bleeding profusely.
“May I rub?” came the plaintive plea above the din of tanned leather strap meeting the tanned hide of Mary’s bum. Both partners noticed the lack of words such as “sir” or “please” in the outcry.
John was loath to relent. He was stoking a fire that was raging now. He was the coalman on a steam locomotive, and through his hard efforts, he’d gotten the machine up to full throttle. The Dominant had brought his submissive to that same fevered pitch by throttling her tender tush until it burned brightly and radiated incandescently.
“For a moment,” he agreed. He watched her stand up to stretch, reach back to gingerly caress the wounded flesh, inspect her hands, then rub some more. Counting on the fact that she was too busy being a brat when he’d re-entered the living room, John casually remarked, “We’re about half way through the thrashing. Now I’ really going to bear down on you. You need this, Mary, and you are going to get it in full measure. Re-assume the position…”
He was right. In the heat of the battle for her to retain her composure, Mary didn’t realize that she’d experienced five implements’ tutelage on her tender tush, that only two implements remained. He’d taken the starch out of the stiff bitch, now to smooth out all her wrinkles.
“I think I’ll continue with this tawse a while longer before we move on to the second act of this play,” he reflected, “I like what it’s doing for you…” He meant that he liked the burnished glow of her fiery flesh. If he had to mark her, he might as well do a thorough job of it, he told himself. John raised the tawse high, brought it down unerringly across Mary’s well-worn seat. “Count these, little girl,” he barked, and his bitch heeled to the task.
“One!” she yelped out. Nine more times the licks of fire singed her sorry ass, until, by the end, Mary was merely blubbering an incoherent yelp in response to the tawse’s call.
“You may rub again,” John acquiesced, and Mary straightened, rubbed her ample bottom vigorously, trying to soothe the surface sting and the deep muscle ache. Unsuccessful at this, she also craned her neck, trying to see what other implements lay in store. Had he brought the riding crop, all of their many canes? Some of them were thick as your thumb and could do a lot of damage! God, her bottom throbbed!
“I’m sorry… I can be such a bitch…” she softly offered.
“Thank you for saying that… You’re not getting out of the beating that still awaits…”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered and bent over once more. It was like golden sunlight broke through the massive thunderheads above. The word that so rarely crossed Mary’s lips had just been uttered without prompting.
“I can’t change a leopard’s spots, but I can change your attitude, young lady.”
“Yes, sir,” she said the magic word again as she bent over and offered her wounded bum to her Master. She caught a glimpse of the Keds tennis shoe in John’s hand. Mary had only felt a plimsole paddling once before. They’d bought the pair of shoes because they heard an English woman state unequivocally that this implement hurt more than anything, canes included. Her last paddling had just been a taste, but it left a bitter residue in her mouth. “How many am I to get with that evil shoe, sir?”
“That depends on how you take it… Be a good girl, take your medicine…” John purposefully used the phrase that was a red flag for Mary. She prided herself on being a submissive in how her sexuality worked, but not in how her mind worked. She was nobody’s “good girl.” She was her own woman, an outlaw, bad to the bone. Hearing that damned phrase gave Mary a second wind; it steeled her spine for what was to come.
Whomp! Fuck, that thing was the worst! Mary thought. It burned the skin, and it bruised way down deep.
Whomp! The first blow’s equal partner landed on her other cheek. Mary stayed bent over, but drummed her feet in place to accept the pain.
Whomp! A shot right across her ass crack reverberated into her privates, sent shock waves up her spinal column.
“You’re half way there, bear up,” John offered, even as he bore down on her sternly.
He didn’t have to say that, Mary thought to herself. He really is a good guy. I give him so much shit and he doesn’t deserve any of it… For the first time in their months’ long relationship, they began to work together as partners, as a couple, as a true Top and a responsive sub.
“Please may I have another, sir?” she screamed out, and he gave it to her. She winced, bent at the knees, absorbed the pain, let it drive her deeper into that sub space but still stay fully present. “Thank you, sir! Please may I have another?” And he gave it to her, not showing any mercy, needing to hammer home the important lesson that if you earn a stout thrashing, you are going to get it. Once more she accepted the cost, stated her appreciation, made her request and felt its response. Mary sprawled across the divan, her legs couldn’t support her any longer. Muscles trembled in fatigue, individually, independently, like a horse will shake a muscle to dislodge a biting fly. When she opened her clenched eyes, she saw the thin rattan cane on the floor. Just one, but a wicked one.
Mary’s entire bottom was as deep a red as the burgundy see-through blouse she wore.
“You’re going to cane me, sir?”
“I intended to when we started, but your butt is worn-out. I think just a few on the backs of your thighs will suffice. You have to learn that your ass will have to cash any check that your mouth writes…”
Mary remembered her smart-mouthed replies to her Top, her smart-assed fart. His astute Topping skills amounted to more than her ass toot. “I do deserve it,” she said amidst the downpour of tears. “I don’t know what gets into me sometimes, John. I’m sorry! …May I lie here for my caning? I don’t think my legs work right now…”
The Top picked up the rod and swished it through the air, then sat next to his submissive lover and placed his left hand on her lower back.
“How many?” she whimper-whispered.
“Six of the best, like with the slipper…” he replied, but then had a thought to help get her through the ordeal. He gave her a stripe just below the juncture of with her buttocks. As Mary gasped in response, John commanded, “Fart for me.”
“What?” she replied.
“Fart! Like you did an hour ago, fart or you’ll get it worse…”
“I can’t!” she wailed and got a second cane stripe.
“You seemed to be able to do it on command before, try harder. Fart!”
As she strained, he gave her a third stripe. It burned mightily, but Mary was focused on the outlandish command her Top was making.
“Then pee. Pee a puddle, right here on the living room carpet.” A fourth cane strike followed, but Mary was unable to obey the command.
“I can’t concentrate! Give a moment’s mercy!” She tried, but John administered another lash, the hardest thus far. Mary howled.
“See? You’re not some feral dog, a bad bitch. You’re my lap dog. You won’t break a basic rule, being housebroken, even if it means a whipping…” He gave her the sixth stripe across the summit of her abused butt cheeks, harder still than all those before. “Get on the floor, bitch, lick my shoe!”
Mary fell to the floor, ass high in the air but with her lips on John’s wingtip. She had no more fight left in her. The Top reached down and wrapped his fist in her long blond locks and raised her head so as to look him in the eye.
“I’m going to give you regular maintenance spankings from now on, Mary, your first one tomorrow night, no matter how badly your butt is marked. You need training, and you’re going to get it…” He tightened his grip so as to focus her attention. “If you ever get it in your head that you can address me like you did earlier tonight, I’m going to cane you until you obey my every command, even if that is to pee or poop on this carpet. Then I’ll rub your nose in it while I cane you some more… Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
He let go of her hair and turned his attention to her other end. He caressed his marks there. “I don’t think you’ll be sitting for your supper…”
Mary rubbed the side of her face against John’s pants leg affectionately. “Sitting is overrated, sir,” she said.

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