Good Discipline

In his personal life, STS is a domestic discipline Top (and he’s a right fit Englishman, to boot) but as my client he bottoms to me for single tail scenes. Often after our sessions, we’ll have a glass of wine while the fires on his back bank down to a warm glow and he’ll tell me about his adventures with his favorite spanking sub, Lyssa.

Recently, he’d been extolling the unique pleasures of the single tail to Lyssa, enough so that she was curious to feel its bite. For our next appointment, he asked if he might bring her and combine a scene in which he’d put her through the paces over his knee and, once she was sufficiently warmed, I’d give her bottom a sampling of my whip. Then STS and I would do our thing (I suspect he wanted her to see he actually could take what he dished out).

I immediately agreed: after hearing him talk so much about his scenes with Lyssa, I was curious myself as to what exactly went on. Say “Domestic Discipline” to me and my first thought is always some kind of role play: a strict governess and her unruly ward, for example. I couldn’t imagine STS (or Lyssa, for that matter, who I’d met previously to advise her on prosub work) playacting.

Knowing her interest in OTK and other English disciplines, I invited Mistress Darla to join me in observing the scene. As we settled down to watch, STS summoned Lyssa to his lap. With the first strike of his hand, Mistress Darla and I both tensed up: that was no warm up stroke! He spanked rigorously, punctuating his smacks with instructions.

“Fingers spread!”
“Legs straight!”
“Toes tucked!”

The squirming Lyssa complied.

Watching them, as STS moved her through various positions and implements — standing, hands out for ruler swats, leaning against the chair seat for the leather strop or on the back of the chair for a cane, one leg up for an inner thigh paddling, etc. — I felt myself growing warm. From the look on her face, Mistress Darla was too. There was such … discipline to his discipline. At times we could see her struggling with the beating, resisting it. But I could also feel her ecstasy.

Darla and I applauded.

After watching Lyssa take all that, her cheeks now a furious, flushing patch of pink, I propped her against the A-frame for a handful of kisses from my whip. She took them well, but I could tell it wasn’t much her taste. Perhaps for now.

STS and I took our turn and I opened up his back. It feels silly sometimes to talk about energy and connection, but when STS and I play, there’s really no denying it. It’s palpable. The room was electric. Hot. From her safe corner where she sat, watching, with Lyssa, Mistress Darla said, “Troy, I can feel you all the way over here!”

Once STS and I finished, of course Mistress Darla couldn’t resist joining in the fun.

“Come here, little girl,” she beckoned to Lyssa, pointing to her lap. Shyly, she leaned over Darla’s grey pencil skirt. Darla began, priming her bottom gently before working up to a heavy handed thrashing that left Lyssa whimpering.

“Look at her face,” STS whispered to me, noting Darla’s red lips curved up slightly in a cruel smile. “She truly gets it.”

Then, as now as I’m writing this, I felt a chill of pleasure. There was so much joy in the room. Pure delight emanated from everyone as we shared this thing we loved.

“God, I love my life!” I whispered back to him.

****

Shortly after I return from Spain, I’ll be sessioning with a bare-handed spanking enthusiast.

He has no idea what he’s in for.