Copyright Alison Smith.

Waiting…

The room is fairly bare, stark even, but She finds it comfortable, minimalist She says, Her retreat. The walls are a soft off white, the only furniture a single comfortable chair, Her chair. There is an expensive hi-fi system in one corner, powerful speakers positioned to provide optimum sound quality to the listener in the chair.

The only adornments to the walls are a couple of riding crops, crossed like ceremonial swords, battle trophies. Whenever we are in there, my eyes are drawn to them, I sense they are waiting for me.

We spend a lot of time in Her retreat. I am normally sat by her feet as we listen to music, talk about Her day or Her desires. Sometimes I am cuffed and chained to the chair, normally not. The temperature varies massively from day to day, She seems not to notice, but it always seems to be a cold day when She requires me naked. She says she likes the effect it has on my nipples. In that room however, my nipples are always hard. My happiest memories are from this room. Here we can spend time together, no distractions. She has punished me in this room too. Punishment comes in many forms. She has spanked me here, and recorded it on the hi-fi. She plays it back occasionally at high volume.

The worst punishment is when She ignores me though. Then I know I've really upset Her. She normally spanks me afterwards, but to be honest with myself, the spanking is a relief.

Sometimes she glances at the riding crops, then at me, smiles and shakes her head slightly, as if now is not the time. I daren't ask, daren't make a sound.

I would like to say that I am not obsessed with the crops, but I can't. There is nothing else to focus on on the walls.

Like right now. She has asked me to wait here for Her. She is likely to be a while. I sit on the floor, with my back to the crops, but I can feel them. I can feel the inevitability of them. Sooner or later now will be the time and I will learn what they feel like. My thoughts of dread at the prospect I can understand, but my excitement?

I rise and move towards them, hands clasped tight behind me as I move my nose close and inspect them. I can smell the leather. They are old, used and creased, but the leather is not cracked, they have been well cared for, lovingly cared for.

Almost of their own volition my hands reach up and take one from its mounts. Its lightness surprises me. I can't resist swishing it through the air. What an ominous sound. How would it feel applied to my body? I have no basis to make a judgement. I tap it lightly against my palm. Nothing really. Tapping harder, still only the slightest of stings. She would do it much harder, She must be an expert. I bring the crop down as hard as I can across the inside of my forearm, catching it with the shaft just below the little leather flap. As the crack reaches my ears the pain sears across my arm. It can only be described as horrific.

I hop around the room with my arm clutched between my thighs trying hard not to swear. The crop lies where I dropped it. I kneel, rocking back and forwards for a few minutes, trying to recover my composure. I realise the crop is lying next to me and I rush to replace it on its mount. As I step away I see the angry welt that has appeared on my arm.

The welt fascinates me. I trace the line of the raised flesh with my fingers, sending conflicting messages racing through my body. Pain, yes, but also, shockingly, absolute arousal. I continue to caress the line, and the pain gradually fades. The arousal doesn't, quite the opposite.

As I stand there, caressing the welt across my forearm, my mind pictures other welts on other parts of my body, more sensitive parts. But to obtain those welts requires the pain. Imagine that pain, imagine how much worse it would be. But the memory of that searing pain seems to be fading. It wasn't really that bad Ally, you're exaggerating it.

I then look at the welt in a new light. It isn't going to go away anytime soon and it is so blatantly obvious. Oh my! What will She say? She must know what it is. She will want to know what happened, and more importantly why. And course I will tell Her, every detail.

Confusion reigns in my mind. How will She react? Will she ignore me? Possibly even send me away for touching her precious things?! Or will She decide that the time is now? If She uses the crop on me I don't know if I could control myself. How will She react when I can't?

I kneel, forearms turned upwards on my thighs, waiting…

She enters. The welt on my forearm seems to pulsate like a beacon.

Initially, She is puzzled by my position, it is not one She has ever asked for before, her eyebrow raised quizzically. Then She notices the welt, her gaze flicking instantly to the crops on the wall. She comprehends the significance immediately.

"Oh Ally, so you couldn't wait!" The disappointment in her voice hurts more than the crop did.

"I'm upset with you Ally, I had hoped you would have more respect for my possessions than that."

I whisper my plea, "please Miss, I didn't damage them…"

"Ally, I wasn't talking about the crops."

The implications of her response shatter me.

She takes my arm and runs her fingers lightly over the welt. My stomach lurches and my whole body shudders as I groan my arousal. Normally, evoking this reaction would elicit a slight smile, She is not smiling now. "Hmmm, maybe you are ready…"

"Ally, we have two issues here. Firstly we have to do what we can to remedy the damage. Then we shall discuss appropriate punishment."

Hope, arousal and despair clash in a roller coaster ride through my mind.

"Ally…?" She asks.

"Yes Miss" I whisper.

She walks behind me to the hi-fi. I hear her take a new cassette and slowly unwrap it from the cellophane. I hear it inserted into the tape deck and the record button pressed.

Again, She takes my forearm in her hands, not touching the welt this time.

"This will takes days to fade Ally. You must have really tried hard to make such a mark."

The last comment is left hanging for a long moment.

"You know my preference for symmetry..."

She walks to the crops on the wall and takes the other crop down, clearly knowing which one I used before.

"As we can't remove the welt Ally, I need you to even yourself up."

She places the crop in my trembling hands.

"Make sure you get the position and angle right. Also, remember how hard you brought it down, it wouldn't do to have one welt fade before the other…. it could take months to get a matching pair if you get it wrong now."

She steps away from me and seats herself in her chair.

I stare down at the crop in my hands. How can I bring myself to do this, knowing now how much it hurts? I know that somehow I will do it, not doing so is inconceivable, but my brain hasn't worked out how yet.

And even when I do manage to bring the crop down, how will I ensure the same force? Surely I will flinch as it hits, automatically pull back and soften the impact. Maybe if I close my eyes….no, I need to see what I am doing to get the position right. I'm going to have to watch myself do this.

My mind has already accepted completely that I will do it, it is the mechanics of it that are causing me to hesitate.

I stand and return to the exact position I struck the first blow. I picture in my mind exactly what I did before, tapping the crop gently across my palm first, the other palm this time, feeling the springiness of the crop. Slightly different to the first. Do I need to factor that into my calculations? Panic assails me, not about what I am to do, but that I might not do it right.

I struggle to control my breathing, so much faster than before. The crop rests across my unmarked forearm. How high did I raise it last time. I remember bringing it down with as much force as I could, so if I can get the starting height right then I should be fairly close. Encouraged by this solution I bring the crop to what I estimate the correct height and almost with relief bring it down with all my might. Realisation of what I am doing hits me at about the same time as the pain, a long second after the crack reaches my ears. Again I drop the crop and fall to my knees with my arm between them, sobbing.

I remain in that position for at least a minute. I am aware that She is before me, picking up the crop and returning it to it position on the wall. She stands before me and holds out her hands. I hold out both arms for her inspection.

The second welt is starting to rise on my right arm. Almost but not quite a mirror image of the one on my left arm.

"Your aim was slightly off Ally, but on the whole not bad. I guess we will see in about a week whether your intensity was correct…"

Again she runs her fingers over the welt, again the feelings surge inside me, only to be dashed instantly.

"And now the second part Ally. Would you care to suggest an appropriate punishment…?"

I cannot think, I cannot form any suggestion, my mind is in turmoil.

"No? Then I will choose"

"Please sit on the floor, one leg tucked into you groin, the other out straight in front of you"

As if in a trance I follow her instructions.

Slowly She walks to the wall and takes down the first crop.

She returns to me, walking around me slowly. "Cup you breasts for me Ally, lift them up for me, offer them to me…"

Horror, mixed with an appalling longing tears through my mind. I do as instructed.

"Look straight ahead Ally, focus on the other crop…"

I hear the crop swish through the air and I stiffen in expectation of the pain across my breasts. Instead pain explodes from my inner thigh, about 2 inches below my groin. I scream, the combination of shock and pain tear it from my throat. Doubled over clutching my thigh.

The tip of the crop under my chin lifts me straight again.

With an almost fatal fascination I stare at the new welt on my inner thigh, the one that is throbbing with pain, almost to the point I need to vomit.

She walks back to the wall and replaces the crop, but takes down the other as she does so.

She hands me the second crop, then turns for the door.

As She reaches it She turns, "Symmetry Ally, Symmetry".

The door closes firmly. One word thunders through my mind:

"HOW??"