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Subject: New: REAFFIRMATION by Foreigner (F/M, caning, sex)
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(Warning: Story contains adult and graphic material. It is not intended for
readers under 18 years of age.)
Reaffirmation
by
Foreigner
Maisie had not shown up for our date, so I drove to her two story brick house
to see what was wrong. As I stepped under the roof of Maisie’s porch, dark
clouds cut loose with a downpour so thick that I could barely see the passenger
in my car. Since neither of us had an umbrella, the storm separated us, as if
we stood on opposite coasts.
I knocked several times before Maisie finally opened the door. Red streaks
discolored her beautiful almond eyes, and moisture lined her soft, dark
cheeks. She let me step inside, and closed the heavy door against the rain.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
With an angry flip of her silky, black hair, Maisie said, “Do not pretend you
don’t know, Gregory.” Everyone else called me Greg, but she always insisted
on the formal designation of my name; as did her parents the one time I had
met them, a week before their fatal car accident. They had emigrated from the
tropical Philippines just to meet their fates on a dusty midwestern highway.
The youngest of four children, Maisie now lived in this big house by herself.
Maybe that was her problem; perhaps the grief, the loneliness, had
finally hit her. I had been with Maisie through it all: the morgue to
identify the bodies, the funeral, the graveside; and not once had Maisie
cried, until now.
“What’s wrong?” I repeated. “Is it your parents?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. I had never seen her filled with
such anger, and it seemed directed at me.
“Why didn’t you come to the restaurant?” I asked.
Maisie turned her back to me. She looked so small, so fragile that I
desperately wanted to take her in my arms, to comfort her, but she had made it
clear that she did not want me to touch her. “I was there,” she finally
whispered. I almost didn’t hear her soft words.
“You were?” Why hadn’t she come to my table? “I didn’t see
you.”
“I saw you, Gregory.” Maisie spun back to face me, and her eyes
flashed with anger. “I saw you with that woman.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” she mocked. “I thought we had something special,
Gregory.”
“Very special.”
“I thought we were committed to each other ...”
“Very committed, Maisie.”
She stomped her foot. “Stop interrupting me, Gregory.”
“Sorry, but ...”
“There are no buts,” she snapped. “You can only have one woman at a time,
Gregory.” As lightning illuminated the foyer, Maisie dabbed her dark eyes
with an overused tissue. “What is her name?”
“Karla,” I answered. “But if you would just let me explain ...”
“What’s to explain? I found my lover with another woman. Have you fucked
her?”
Sex with Karla? I laughed at such a silly idea, but Maisie wasn’t amused.
“Of course not.”
With a soft whoosh, she released her breath. I hadn’t realized she was
holding it. Maybe all this was silly to me, but it was very serious to Maisie.
And it was all so unnecessary. “Maisie, there’s something I really need to
tell you ...”
“Stop interrupting, Gregory. You are making me very angry.”
“Sorry.” Outside, thunder boomed, and rain pounded against her windows, but
she didn’t seem to take any notice. “Gregory, you must chose. Karla or me.”
I didn’t want my poor, misguided baby to have a moment more of discomfort.
“You, Maisie. I choose you.”
She collapsed into my arms and buried her face against my chest. Her soft
breasts pressed against my belly, and I could tell she was not wearing a bra by
the way her nipples poked through her blouse. My chin nestled in her silky
hair, and as I reveled in her sweet perfume, I became aroused. We hugged each
other very tightly, and in the same moment we both said the same thing, “I
love you.”
We giggled at the impromptu chorus, and as she felt the growing bulge in my
jeans, Maisie pulled away, but held onto my hands. Then she stared at me, and
I was nervous to see that her sensuous eyes still reflected anger. “Gregory, I
need you to reaffirm your love.”
“Sure, Maisie. Anything.”
“It will be difficult for you,” she said.
“Losing you would be much worse,” I said.
Maisie gave me a rueful smile. “I hope you feel that way afterwards.”
“After what?” Suddenly, I was very nervous. “What do you have in mind?”
“I want you to submit to punishment,” she said. Her dusky cheeks darkened
with a blush. “It is, was, the way of my family. Whenever my brothers or I
did something wrong, our parents punished us. But punishment wasn’t just for
kids. Behind the closed doors of their bedroom, my parents sometimes punished
each other.” All of this was very intriguing. There was still something I
needed to tell Maisie, but this was more important. We had been together for
over a year, but I was learning something about her past that she had never
told me; but of course there were things about me that she didn’t know either.
“Punish it what way?” I asked. I noticed that my mouth was suddenly dry. I
had that same hollow feeling that I used to get when my sister punished me.
First, my alcoholic dad had split, then a few weeks later, my mother couldn’t
take the responsibility of raising two kids all alone anymore, then she
vanished too. My sister had been only 18 at the time, but she had suddenly
acquired the raising, and disciplining of her twelve year old brother. And I
had been a handful.
Maisie turned to an umbrella stand: a cylindrical container with several
curved, wooden handles hooked on the upper rim. Apparently, not all the
handles attached to umbrellas, as I had always assumed, because Maisie now
withdrew a rattan cane very similar to the one my sister had used.
“My parents kept this here, so that it was the last thing my brothers and I
saw when we left the house. A reminder to be good.” She sliced the cane
through the air with a sharp hiss that made my buttocks clench.
“Used how?” I asked, pretending ignorance. Many times over the years my
sister had ordered me to bare myself and touch my toes, then she had proceeded
to rain a series of fiery stripes across my bottom. As recently as two years
ago, when I had wrecked her car, she had punished me so harshly, that I had to
sleep on my belly for a week
Masie gave me a grim smile. “I will describe my last punishment, so that you
will understand what I want from you.”
“To reaffirm our love ...”
“Stop interrupting.” To emphasize her point, Maisie stepped to the side and
caned the seat of my pants, which left a sting even through the heavy denim.
For the first time I was certain she meant business. “Follow me, please.” It
seemed more an order than a request, but I followed my beloved down a short
hallway to the recreation room. Maisie opened a cabinet and set a thick,
leather strap on the pool table where we had once played strip-billiards, but
that’s another story.
“My mother held the strap,” she said. “And my father held the cane like
this.” Maisie folded her arms across her breasts, and the cane angled up
toward her right shoulder, reminding me that she was left-handed. Actually, at
that moment my major concern was how severe she looked, as if she fully
intended to tear up my ass with that damn thing. Because I loved her, I was
going to let her. Another bolt of lightning lit up the room. “When Mom told
me to remove my clothes, I hung them there.” Maisie pointed to a coat rack by
the door. I had noticed it on previous occasions, and I had always thought it
a strange location, when there was already another rack in the foyer next to
the umbrella stand. Now that I knew what it was for, I wasn’t very happy with
my new knowledge.
“Do it,” she said.
Belatedly, I finally realized Maisie intended for me to be a visual aid in her
little drama. I guess that’s why she had taken me to the “scene of the crime.”
Suddenly, Maisie stepped forward and gave me another swat with the cane, more
force this time and more sting.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered. “All of them. My parents always
stripped us for punishment.”
This was moving a bit fast for me, but I wanted to “reaffirm my love,” as
Maisie put it. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I
didn’t want to lose her over a misunderstanding.
Exposing my tanned chest, I racked my shirt before I removed my shoes and
socks, and all the while Maisie stood over me with that grim smile. I was
starting to get scared. I had never realized that my beloved was capable of
such control, such harshness. She seemed very interested in my hands as they
unfastened belt and lowered my zipper, exposing the jockey shorts. As I
stepped from my jeans, her dark eyes remained focused on the bulge of my
underwear, and she actually licked her lips with a quick flick of her tongue.
With my fingers on my waistband, I hesitated. Sure, we had been naked on many
occasions, but this was the first time I would be the only one naked, and I
didn't care for the idea. Impatient, Maisie swatted my ass again with about
the same force as last time, but the sting was worse through the thin material
of my jockeys. This punishment was going to hurt, a lot.
As I slid the shorts down my thighs, my fully erect penis popped from its
furry nest. Maisie caught her breath, then prodded the mushroom head with the
tip of her cane. “No, Gregory,” she whispered. “You are too excited. This
is not for pleasure.”
Intellectually, I knew that. My sister had spanked me bare many times, but
never had I gained an erection. It had been punishment, often severe, but she
had been my sister. With Maisie it was different. How many times had my
member penetrated her special recesses? How many times had she rode it to
ecstasy? How many times had it poured love into her warm, moist body?
Is it any wonder the poor, blind fool was confused?
“Sorry,” I said. “It seems to have a mind of its own.”
Suddenly, she slapped my penis with the palm of her hand, and it bounced away,
only to snap back into place, unabated. Then she playfully smacked it the
other direction, and from her smile, I guessed that she liked the way it
bobbed. Then she gripped my shaft tightly, and it felt so good I wanted to
cum; prelubrication seeped from the head and trickled over her thumb. That
seemed to be the signal for her to tighten her grip until it began to hurt.
Finally, she gave the mushroom head a rap with the cane and I wanted to scream,
but I held back; my penis became limp in her hand.
“That’s better,” she said. She let go and it dangled against my thigh, not
nearly as happy as it had been a few moments ago. Maisie licked my juices off
her thumb, then stepped back and resumed her narration. “Of course my parents
never needed to do that to me, but they sometimes did it to my brothers,
especially Terry. I never understood it, but he always seemed to actually
enjoy punishment. If fact he sometimes got in trouble on purpose. Terry was
23 the last time got caned.”
Even through my pain, I didn’t overlook the significance of that remark. “You
watched your brothers get punished naked?”
She nodded. “And when it was my turn, they watched me as well.” She pointed
to the cluster of furniture by the far wall. “My parents insisted we all sit
there and watch the punishments. It was part of the family ritual.”
“Terry was 23 his last time? But he was already an adult.” I don’t know why
I felt so surprised. After all, I had been 22 the last time my sister punished
me.
Maisie nodded. “Terry was still living at home, so he was subject to the
family rules.”
It occurred to me that Maisie was now 23, and she had been living at home the
entire time I had known her. Perhaps I was nosy, but I just had to ask. “How
old were you the last time you got caned?”
She hesitated for so long, that I didn’t think she would answer. Finally, she
said, “A week before their accident.”
That was just three months ago. “I had no idea!” I blurted. “How did you
hide it from me?”
“You might recall I was sick for about a week. But I wasn’t really sick, I
just pretended. I was afraid you would see the marks when you took me from
behind. When you visited, I was always under the blankets. Then there was
that awful accident, then the funeral, so almost two weeks went by before we
had a chance to make love again. By that time my bottom was still a little
sore, but the marks were gone.”
“But why were you punished?” I asked. She didn’t answer, then I remembered
that the only time I had ever met her parents had been one week before the
accident. “Was that the night they invited me to dinner?”
She nodded.
“But you were sitting fine. You didn’t seem to be in pain."
Again, her face darkened with a blush. “It happened after you left.”
“But why? I thought we all had a delightful evening.” Again, she was silent.
“Was it because of me?”
She nodded. “They were angry because that was the first time they found out
you were white. They said you would only break an Asian girl’s heart.”
“So they tried to break us up?”
“To protect me, but I didn’t realize that until today when I saw you with that
woman. I hated them ever since that night, but now I realize they were only
trying to protect their little girl, the best way they could.” Before I could
say anything else, she gripped my penis and led me to the pool table. “It is
time,” she said. “My parents made me bend over the edge of the table.” As
she said the words, she maneuvered me so that my thighs pressed against the
edge. Since she was almost a foot shorter, I imagined the table must hit her
at the belly. Then I felt her warm hand between my shoulder blades, and I let
her push me forward so that my chest rested against the green felt. I had to
turn my head so I could breathe, but even so there was a heavy odor of chalk
dust that almost made me sneeze.
“When I was in this position, Mother pulled my legs apart.” I felt Maisie’s
hands at my ankles urging a wider separation, and I complied. Just when I
thought I could not spread my legs any farther, she pried me open a few more
inches. As I felt cool air move across my anus, I realized her purpose. I
also realized that my splayed butt faced the furniture, so any audience could
see my most private parts: as they must have seen Maisie’s inner treasures
when she was in this position.
Maisie’s soft hands caressed my bottom and I felt her fingers run across the
three marks, where she had already hit me. “You’re already red,” she said.
“Does it hurt?”
“Just a slight sting,” I said. As nervous as I was, I was proud of myself
that I said it without stuttering.
“Maybe you only seem red because you’re paler than me,” she said. Then her
fingers slipped into my crack; starting at the top, she slowly moved downward,
drawing her fingers through my hairy furrow, then paused at my anus. She
tickled it, making it pucker more, then she plucked at the hairs around my
tight ring.
I jerked from a tiny, sharp sting, then I realized she had yanked out a hair
near my anus. Then she plucked out another hair, then another. It was
painful, but rather exciting at the same time. “Did your parents do that to
you?” I asked. She giggled, and I got the impression she was exceeding the
parameters of the ritual. As she plucked a few more hairs, my penis suddenly
surged to life, and brushed the wooden edge of the pool table.
“You’re being naughty again,” said Maisie. Then she reached between my
thighs and cupped my testicles. First she gave them a light squeeze, which
hardened me even more, then she started bearing down. As the slowly
intensifying pain spread up into my belly, the joy of life exited my penis and
it once again drooped.
“Christ,” I said. “That hurt.”
There was an unexpected jolt across my butt, which jarred my teeth. “Do not
take the Lord’s name in vain,” said Maisie. “That disrespect cost you extra
punishment.” Maisie slammed the leather strap across my ass with a huge, meaty
slap. I bucked with the pain, but I managed to maintain position. Even so, I
gasped. Then she belted me again and again, ten times in all. When she
stopped, the tension left my body and for the first time I was glad for the
support of the table. I just lay there moaning in pain. Who would have
thought someone so tiny, could hit so hard? She hadn’t even used the cane yet,
other than a few playful (I now realized) strokes.
“Playtime is over,” said Maisie. I felt something thin and wooden rest
across both cheeks. She gave me a light tap, then the rod lifted away.
Suddenly, there was a hiss as the cane sliced through the air, then it seared
across my ass like a branding iron. I yelped with the pain.
There was another hiss, then she branded my cheeks at a slightly lower spot.
I stomped my foot. Damn, it hurt so much! “If you break position,” said
Maisie, “you will get ten more from the strap.” As if in emphasis, her cane
struck even harder and I bolted upright gripping my ass, trying to rub away the
pain. The ridges felt alien on my formerly smooth skin. Not even my sister
had raised welts so quickly.
Maisie’s hand pressed against my back. At first I resisted, then she
whispered, “Remember, Gregory, you are reaffirming our love.” Then I
reluctantly allowed her to fold me back over the table. “You broke position,”
she said. “Dad always used the cane, and Mom always administered extra
punishment with the strap.” Once again, the leather pounded me, ten times in
rapid succession: so fast that I didn’t have time to breathe. This time it
was even worse on top of the caning. Damn, I wanted to prove my love, but this
was almost too much. How much longer would it last? Then it occurred to me
that Maisie had never set an exact number of strokes. My sister had always
announced the number, and somehow that had always made it easier. If I knew
how many to expect, then I could steel myself for the duration. I was afraid
to ask Maisie, but I was afraid I would earn extra punishment.
Then the cane renewed its attack, burning across my buttocks with raw pain.
I emitted a low grade squeal. I felt like such a baby, but that really hurt.
So far all the welts were parallel with each other, each new one slightly lower
than the last. Now Maisie sliced at a downward angle, crossing the previous
stripes, making them flame anew, plus the added pain of the new stroke. There
was a piercing scream, and I realized it had torn from my own throat. I also
realized I was standing and massaging my butt again.
“You must be strong, Gregory, or it will never be over.” Then she pushed me
back over the table.
I flinched as I felt the warn leather brush my battered rear, then I finally
asked it. “When will it be over?”
“When you cry,” she said. “My parents always spanked me until I cried. And
it had to be real tears, not fake ones. The only time I never cried was the
last time. I was punished for almost two hours, but they never broke me. I
affirmed my love for you that night. I earned the right to keep you.”
Then the strap hammered my battered ass and I howled with pain. When the ten
strokes were over, her hands caressed my bottom, feeling the heat, massaging
the pain, but even her soft touch felt like punishment on my tortured flesh.
Until you cry. Maisie’s words echoed through my fevered brain. I had not
cried from corporal punishment, since I was a very young child. The more I had
gown, the more stoic I had become. It was a matter of pride. I didn’t want my
sister to know that she was really hurting me. No matter how hard she had
punished me, I never gave her the satisfaction of tears.
Now Maisie was taking punishment into a new realm, and I was beginning to
wonder if I contained as much love as she wanted me to demonstrate. I was a
lot bigger than Maisie. At any time I could get off the table, throw on my
clothes and leave, and there was nothing she could do to stop me. However,
Maisie had taken severe punishment for me. Could I do any less for her?
Besides, if I gave up, she would never trust my love again.
Then the cane seared across my welts as before. I jerked with the pain, but
held position. My lover sliced me again and again, but I just took it. Each
cut drew a yelp or a shout from me, and I knew my ass must be a livid road map
of red lines. And still she punished me. My world had shrunk to just the
table and myself, as the cane reduced my body to a glowing haze of pain. The
essence of my soul reduced itself to its smallest dimensions, trying to escape
the agony, but there was no escape. The room filled with hisses, meaty smacks,
and animal screams of pain, but still she continued, and I let her do it.
I love you, Maisie, I kept thinking. I love you.
Finally, I realized the strokes had ended, but the pain continued. It must
have been over for some time, but I only slowly realized it. At the same
moment, I also realized the rain no longer pounded against the windows. The
storm was over. Maisie was next to me, whispering in my ear. “I’m sorry,
Gregory, I’m so sorry.” Over and over again, she said it, as she massaged
soothing ointment into my burning flesh. “I love you, Gregory, and now I know
you love me.”
As she helped me off the table, my legs felt rubbery. Never had I been
punished so thoroughly. “But I didn’t cry,” I gasped. “Why did you stop?”
Then I saw that tears filled her eyes. “I could not take any more,” she
said. “You proved your love many times over.” She started sobbing, and I
found myself in the awkward position of comforting my punisher. As I held my
lover, tears finally started flowing down my face; it wasn’t the pain that
finally got me, it was the emotion. Never in our relationship had we been so
close as in that moment.
“I hated them so much,” she sobbed against my chest. “They tried to keep me
from you.” Then she cried all the harder. “But they loved me, didn’t they?
They only wanted what they thought was best for me.”
“I’m what is best for you,” I said.
“I know. And in the end, they knew too.” We hugged until we were both cried
out. Finally, she giggled and said, “Something is poking my belly.”
Frankly, I was as surprised as Maisie that my poor fellow was so stout after
so much agony. As Maisie gripped my erection, she gave me a speculative look.
“You liked the pain?”
“Of course not.” I gasped as she massaged my penis.
“This says otherwise,” she said with a smile. “This says you’re like my
brother Terry.”
“First time this ever happened to me,” I said. Then in a rush, I told her
all about the punishments I had received from my sister. “I never got an
erection with her. It only happened this time because you did it.” She gave
me a secret smile as her hand continued to pump my shaft. “But you liked
punishing me, didn’t you?” I asked.
“No, Gregory. I didn’t like hurting you.”
“Then why are your nipples so hard?” As we hugged, I noticed the twin, taut
buds pressing through her blouse against my chest. To test my theory, I ran
my hand up the inside of her skirt, and discovered that her panties were
soaking wet.
She moaned as I touched her there, and I lifted her onto the edge of the pool
table. As I yanked off her panties, she lifted her hips to help me. I pushed
her back and parted her legs, but I didn’t examine her pink slit. Instead, I
buried my face in her groove, reveling in her musky scent, and lapped hungrily
at her delightful juices. Her legs wrapped around my neck and shoulders as I
licked her clit, knocking the little bud from one side to the other.
Meanwhile, my hands had opened her blouse and I massaged her soft mounds, then
teased her diamond nipples: rubbing, squeezing, pinching. She writhed and
moaned her pleasure, and her hips bounded under my tongue. Finally, I felt her
legs lock, and she screamed out her ecstasy.
When she had calmed down, I asked, “Are you sure you weren't turned on by
caning me?”
She only smiled and pulled me toward her for a deep kiss. She didn’t seem to
mind her private juices all over my lips and tongue; it seemed to turn her on
all the more. Her thighs wrapped around my hips, and her delicate hand guided
me into her slippery channel.
She was so wet that I plunged to my pubes with one thrust. She moaned around
my kisses, then I tore myself away, and licked her nipple while my penis pumped
her vagina like a slippery torpedo. I couldn’t hold back any longer; I’d been
turned on for too long. With one final thrust my juices spurted inside her, at
the same moment she screamed out her second orgasm.
Spent, we collapsed in each other’s arm, and at that moment we heard a knock
on the door frame of the recreation room. A young woman I knew very well stood
there looking embarrassed. Matching her blush, red hair flowed over the
yellow shoulders of her dress. “I’m sorry, Greg,” she said. “I waited in
the car until the rain stopped, then I knocked on the front door. Now I see
why you two didn’t hear me.”
Maisie pushed me away and quickly arranged her clothes. Meanwhile, I stood
there completely naked. “You’re the woman from the restaurant,” said Maisie.
Then she gave me a look of pure hurt. “You brought her to my house?”
“My name is Karla,” she said. She looked taken aback, as her eyes clicked to
the cane and the leather strap, and she must have already seen my livid ass,
when I was cumming in Maisie. “I’ve been wanting to meet you, Maisie, but I’ve
been out of the country. Greg has told me so much about you.” Karla
gave me a reproving glance. “But he didn’t tell me about this. I thought we
didn’t have any secrets, Greg.”
“This is new,” I said. "Maisie saw you and me at the restaurant, and she
demanded a reaffirmation of my love.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
“I tried several times, but she kept telling me to stop interrupting.”
Besides, the idea of being caned by Maisie had excited me, but I was afraid to
reveal that much of myself. Such a confession could lead to dangerous places.
Meanwhile, Maisie had been seething through this exchange, and she slapped me
across the face. “You lied to me, Gregory. You’re standing there naked and
neither of you are embarrassed.”
“I’ve seen him naked many times,” said Karla. “He has a nice body, doesn’t
he?”
“You admit it then?” Flabbergasted, Maisie stared at her. “You are lovers?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you all evening, Maisie,” I said as I rubbed my
stinging face, “but you wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m his sister,” said Karla.
--
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