The Storyteller (13 page)

“What do you say we play a game?”

Again, Michael took on a puzzled look.

“Game.”

Loretta nodded.

“Let’s spice things up a little, since we’ve both admitted some stuff here. I’ll shave my pussy right in front of you before sex, but in return I want a spanking.”

Michael looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted wings and a tail.

“No, I’m serious here,” she continued. “Let’s do it like this. You pretend you’ve already ordered me to shave down there and tell me to take off my pants to be sure. When you see I haven’t done it, you tell me you’re going to punish me for not being a devoted wife and disobeying you. So you spank my ass real hard and make me go up and shave. Then we’ll do it and do it and do it. I think we’ll be so turned on by then, we’ll be able to set a new record for ourselves.”

Michael looked to the painting once more and a phenomenon happened. The painting nodded. It was only an illusion of course, but the woman gave her approval.

“How do we start?”

Loretta motioned to the living room door.

“Come in like you just got back from work. Ask me if I did what I was expected to do, and I’ll lie and say yes. When I do, you tell me to prove it, and when I take down my pants and you see my muff isn’t shaved, you tell me you’re going to teach me a lesson I’ll remember forever. Then you teach it to me.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” Michael objected.

“That’s the idea. We just don’t do it so hard I end up bloody.”

The woman in the painting gave Michael a sinister look of encouragement for what was about to happen, and behind her, her admirer nodded. Of course, it was still an illusion. It had to be.

“Should we do it down here, where they can hear and see us?” he mouthed. Though the words took on the frame of a joke, he was serious.

Loretta nodded.

“Sure! Let them watch. They’re French, so they would be into all kinds of wild shit, would they not? They probably like to watch.”

Michael responded by heading toward the door, unlocking it and stepping outside, just as his wife suggested. He then came back through and tried his best to look like the tired husband he was. Though it seemed silly just a moment beforehand, the words suddenly came to him and he found himself totally caught up in this dramatic presentation.

“Dear, I’m home. Before we have dinner, I want to know if you did what I asked you to.”

Loretta pretended to show meekness as she looked up at him from the sofa.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Her voice answered in the positive, but the undertones said something different.

“I don’t believe you,” Michael blurted out, as he placed his hands on his hips. There was a sternness far too convincing.

“It’s true,” Loretta conveyed, also caught up in this marvelous new game.

Michael motioned with his thumb, indicating he wanted her to rise.

“Did you really think you could lie to me and not get caught? Get up and pull your pants down.”

Feigning fear, Loretta arose and unbuckled her pants, taking them off her waist. She did the same with her white silk panties, showing that she did have her full brown bush still present in all its hairy glory.

“I knew it!” Michael exploded. “Get those pants off all the way.”

Loretta had removed her shoes and socks long before, so when her pants came off, she was naked from the waist down.

“You stand right there and don’t you move,” Michael insisted. His eyes left his wife and gazed beyond her toward the oil painting. It seemed just as he suspected, that through some twisted miracle the couple within had come to some stage of semi-life and were able to observe the happenings. They were like a director and assistant director in a film, guiding things onward.

“I told you to shave, Loretta, and in this house the man is king. My word is law and there are consequences when you defy me. Now you’re going to feel my anger instead of my love. Do you understand?”

Loretta nodded weakly. She too was caught up in the passion of what was happening. This was no longer, for better or worse, just a game of role play.

“It’s too late now. You had the chance to shave voluntarily down there and refused. Now you are going to do it by force. The only thing is you’re going to have an ass beaten raw before you do it. That way you’ll learn never to disobey me or go against my wishes ever again. Do you understand?”

Again, Loretta nodded.

“Now you stand right where you are, Loretta. I want you to think about what you’ve done.”

Michael’s tone reminded her of words she had heard from her parents when she’d been bad long before. At times it was her mother who did the spanking, and at other times it was her father. When she was really disobedient, she got it from both of them. That was a million years ago anymore. This was different. This was the present. A shudder cascaded though her body as she realized in one form or another, what was going to happen.

“Just stand right there and shut your eyes. Don’t you move and don’t you open them until I tell you.”

Loretta heard her husband go into the dining room and move one of the chairs. At first she thought she was going to have to go across it and take the belt without any pants on, as she had conjured up in her head moments before, but that was not the case. To her horror, she knew within that she was going to be made to bend over the kitchen table, and Michael was clearing the way. What would be her punishment? The hand? The belt? A cutting board? Maybe all of them?

“It’s time,” Michael spat out in an ominous tone. “Open your eyes.”

He was standing in front of her with a displeased look. Again, he glanced downward toward her pubic hairs and grimaced.

“So messy. So untidy. We’re going to fix that soon. Now you go in there and bend yourself over that table. I think you know what to do. You get into position right now and think of how you’re going to be a good wife from now on.”

With her bottom half exposed both from the front and the rear, she made her way past him, knowing severe punishment was to come.

“Can I just shave now?” she offered and there was no play in her voice.

The game had turned real.

“No,” Michael groused, as he looked away from his wife and into the painting. “We have others watching us, you know. They’re going to get their eyes full and that’s going to make you all the more ashamed. You’re not only going to feel pain. You’re going to feel degradation. You’re going to feel humiliation. You’ve been disobedient and you need to be chastised. I’m just the man who can do it to you.’

Michael’s eyes drifted beyond the female in the painting and into the face of the man behind her, who watched with hungry expectations.

“
Sang
,” he said in a low voice. “
Sang
...”

He did not know where that came from. He spoke no French.

“La Ranchune.”

His thoughts were interrupted from Loretta’s voice in the dining room.

“Michael, I’m ready for my spanking now.”

“Who told you to talk!” he cried in fury. “And my name isn’t Michael. Not now. Call me Francois.”

Michael stormed into the dining room, caught up in his new identity. Loretta was lying with her top half over the dinner table, her stomach and breasts flat on the top of it, while her bottom greeted him. She was trembling slightly, and her lungs struggled to take in the air, in conjunction with the mounting tension.

“Take that, Anne,” Michael screamed as he brought his hand down hard against the middle of Loretta’s uncovered ass. “This is for not listening to me!”

Loretta jolted, but did not scream. She bit down on her lip, determined not to let him know how much it hurt. The burning made her overlook Michael had called her by a different name.

“So you aren’t crying yet!” he exclaimed. “Well, you’ll cry on the next one!”

The second blow was more severe, hitting direct on the right side of her ass instead. The flesh indented with the blow and Loretta again bolted, but made no cry.

“Still persist,” Michael sneered. “Well, let’s try this one!”

The third smack struck on Loretta’s left ass cheek, and when Michael pulled his hand away, there was already a palm print starting to materialize.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Michael questioned “Don’t you regret not doing what you were told? What’s wrong with you? You know better than to disobey your husband. In this house there are consequences for breaking the rules. Don’t you want to beg for forgiveness and kneel before me now? Don’t you want to apologize? You whore! Don’t you have anything to tell me, like being sorry for disobeying me?”

Loretta remained silent, but she did not know how long she could keep it up. She had taken just three hits with the bare hand and already she was feeling the pain. The blows hurt more than she thought they would, but it sure beat being tied to a gigantic X and whipped as she had seen in that one brief vision. If Michael tried that, she was drawing the line.

“I’ll make you cry.” Michael barked out and tore into her backside with a flurry of slaps without restraint. Each one brought a new sting and as it did, Loretta moved her legs. Her back arched and her head bobbed, but after each whapping she resumed her position, lying partially against the hard table as her buns started to burn.

“Is it red?” she managed to ask. “Is it red?”

“You bet it is,” Michael hissed. “It’s going to be a lot redder, too. You’re going to learn to obey me.”

“Please,” Loretta begged, finally unable to contain herself. “Let me shave now.”

“Too late.” Michael countered as he placed his free hand on the small of her back and held her downward. “Too late. This is going to be a harsh punishment, and it is going to be a long one. You could have avoided it if you had just listened. What got into you anyway, where you thought you could disobey a direct order?”

“I’m sorry,” came the wailing response. “Stop. Let me shave. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Sacre bleu.”

“What?” Loretta questioned, confused by what she had just heard. It sounded like he had said “suck a dog”.

“What? What was that?”

“
Mort
...”

Loretta realized something was wrong and tried to rise, but the hand on her back drove her down.

“You’re spoiling the game,” Michael commanded, and again the punishment came.

Each slap on Loretta’s ass reddened it further, the hand prints molding into crimson with the pinkness turning darker as slap landed on top of slap. At this point, Loretta was no longer defiant, but shouting an unintelligible cry each time she received an addition to her spanking.

“From now on, you will obey,” Michael ordered with each blow. “Learn, you whore! From now on, you will obey me or you will pay the price!”

“Owwwwww,” Loretta finally winched out. “Are we finally done?”

“Done,” Michael laughed. “You have got to be kidding me! No, my girl. Not yet! We haven’t even started. When you finally do get to shave, you’re going to be doing it with an ass as red as a baboon’s.”

“Owwwww.”

Loretta let out yet another cry as a new blow struck her. She could feel the heat as well as the pain upon her unclothed flesh, which caused still more peculiar sensations deep within. She was churning inside, longing not for continued sadism, but outright sex. She was ready to get up and bend on the floor, doggy style, while Michael fueled her into the heavens, but this was not her destiny. The game went on and with it came more pain.

“Ow! Oh! Ow! Uhm! Ow! Ow!”

Finally, the punishment ended and Loretta arose, lifting her upper body from the table and turning to face her lover. She was ready to skip the rest of the charade and go right to the bedroom.

“Who told you to get up?” Michael commanded. There was a fire in his eyes that matched the burning within her ass and an authority in his words that she had never heard before.

“I’m ready to hit the bed sheets,” Loretta protested.

It was then Michael’s countenance softened.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Loretta babbled. “You are my true love, but I’m really sore. Owwwww!”

Again, he repeated the question.

“Do you love me?”

Loretta nodded.

Michael smiled a wicked smile like nothing she had ever seen before. He was a man possessed.

“Then get back down on that table and let me have my way with you.”

Loretta trembled, but she was too turned on to disobey. Reluctantly. She turned and resumed her position as before, though she wanted very badly to throw her hands behind her and rub her swollen ass into whatever degree of control she could.

“Sacre bleu.”

Again she heard it, but this time the voice was not Michael’s. It came from the living room.

“Suck a dog?”

“Suck a dog?” Michael questioned. “What the hell does that fucking mean anyway? No, even I am not going that far, but you are going to be severely punished for your rebellion against me. You stay right there, and I’ll be right back!”

What couldn’t have been more than a minute seemed like an hour, when Michael returned with a triumphant cry in his voice.

“I have something else for you. Let’s see how this feels.”

Not being prepared for what was to happen, Loretta screamed and jerked upright with her hands over her ass just after the merciless blows came to her. The whack and the feeling told her what it was. Michael had found the wooden spoon.

“Oh, that hurt.”

“Get back down,” was the only thing she heard from Michael, who shoved her back with a flat palm thrust. “You hold the position, and you hold it good.”

Again, he brought the makeshift paddle down hard against her flesh and she screamed in a language unfamiliar to her. Both were caught up in the role play and so mesmerized they failed to realize they were speaking a language unfamiliar to either of them.

“
Bain de sang
,” Loretta mumbled. “
Bain de sang
.”

“
Un suppot de Satan
,” Michael answered as he brought the wooden spoon across her ass in a series of strikes.

“Ow, that hurts,” Loretta gasped, reverting to English once more. This was no fantasy, but very, very real and equally torturous.