L is for Leather

Aldous, despite being only one eighth Scottish, had a strong affinity for the Scottish tawse and the kilt belt. Rated eleven on the one to ten scale of severity, the Scottish tawse is more brutal than the cane, though the sensation is entirely different: a bone-deep thud versus razor-thin sting. Its younger cousin kilt belt is from the same leather family, wide and heavy by nature, but kinder on the bum. Then again, its effect depends on who yields it and for what purpose. The other factor being my post-orgasmic floaty state, and the third but not least, I loved leather. 

That was the pep talk running in circles in my head, and you cannot survive a heavy spanking without some pep talk, better delivered by your disciplinarian, or if not, by yourself. Aldous was not into pep talks or any kind of positive reinforcements; his lectures, usually accompanied by severe spankings, sent me straight down the rabbit hole. Nick’s experience, so far, was limited to my dreams. Whatever I liked, he liked. Whatever stance on spanking I wanted him to take, he surely did: gentle, hard, leisurely slow, or breathtakingly fast; mind reader Nick got it all.

But some dreams are unscripted, and this one is running amok.

“Holy fuck, it’s twice wider than my belt!” Nick yelps.

“And twice heavier too,” replies Aldous. “Don’t fret, she took tawse like a good girl, she’ll be fine.”

 “But she just came,” protests Nick.

“Exactly! The best time to punish her for coming without permission. On her back and legs up,” Aldous concludes with a verdict.

That’s an evil twist! The diaper position (on the back with legs up) is one of the most hated positions for the utmost exposure and the skin pulled tight, with the primary targets being the sit spots and the upper thighs, the most painful areas to spank.

Out of nowhere, a metal canopy bed with a bare mattress rolls out, with the cuffs dangling on a long chain over the footboard. Free of any restraints and on my wobbly feet, I have a moment to stretch my limbs. After the hard surface of the spanking bench, the bed looks like a luxury upgrade, if it wouldn’t be the premise of the next assault on my ass.

“Assume the position!” Mistress Kat barks the order.

I climb on the bed, taking my sweet time, but mindful of a reprimand. I flip on my back and lift my legs, waiting for her to secure my ankles with the cuffs. Maybe if I will be a good girl, she will show mercy. She yanks my hips forward, over the edge of the bed, readying for full access. No mercy yet, I sigh.

“Sorry, mate, no choosing the view for this one,” I hear Aldous. The bed has a tall headboard and moving it around would obstruct the view for my two spectators.

“Quite an opposite,” rebuffs Nick. “Turn her around.”

Ouch, I jerk. Don’t wake up the beast, or Aldous will gnaw his paw to get the upper hand.

“Alrighty then,” says Aldous, and at his command the bed rolls around one-eighty degrees. “Since I can’t see her, I can only rely on her screams.” He agrees matter-of-factly. “She will count, and after each five I want to hear: thank you, sir, I love your kilt belt. Any mistake, we go back to one.”

“Until when?” asks Nick.

“Oh, you will know. It’s a punishment, not some play with your leather trinkets.”