Tales of Pleasure and Pain Read online

  Tales of Pleasure & Pain

  By

  Lizbeth Dusseau

  ©2012 by CF Publications ®

  Tales of Pleasure & Pain

  Lizbeth Dusseau

  Copyright CF Publications 2012

  Published by CF Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by CF Publications®,

  in conjunction with Blushing Books

  PO Box 706

  East Setuaket, NY 11733

  Lizbeth Dusseau

  Tales of Pleasure & Pain

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-754-0

  CF Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us! If you’re pleased with your purchase, please take a moment and give us a rating/review. We’d very much appreciate it!

  Also, follow us online at the following sites:

  Our online blog: http://cfpubsblog.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/CF-Publications/330965976969268

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/cfpubs

  Receive 24 spanking stories monthly for one low price at our Spanking Story Archive: http://www.spankstories.com

  There are plenty more stories such as the one you’ve purchased from CF Publications! Visit our online store to view our full selection! http://www.cfpub-online.com

  You may also want to visit Blushing Books. There are hundreds of full-length and novella length romantic and erotica spanking stories there. http://www.blushingbooks.com

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of ContentsPleasures of an Audience

  Boarding House Rules

  The Razor Strap & the Red Rose

  Pleasures of an Audience

  She flailed her legs and arms, whined and moaned and raised holy hell! But he wouldn’t stop.

  She tried to wriggle from his grasp, but that didn’t work either, for he had her tightly by the waist. He’d done it by the design, it was more intimate and more confining to have her over his lap. There was less chance Roslyn would get away; and when there was a chance she’d get away, she’d get angry and resentful of being spanked, rather than yielding to what she needed.

  She was sobbing profusely when he pushed her off his lap, but it wasn’t altogether a sincere cry. It was just special effects that she performed, to engage his sympathy and attempt to ease the painful blows of the ancient butter paddle against her thighs and ass. She never really knew if her acting worked. It probably didn’t because Jack was too astute to be taken in by a whining little wench and her mournful pleas.

  Jack loved watching her squirm, he loved the gallant contest; it was amusing to him, knowing that he was a mountain of a man, far far stronger than Roslyn, and far too ornery to be swayed by her spirited protests. Her bottom bouncing on his lap was a beautiful sight. By the time he finished with the butter paddle it was glowing bright red, that creamy white turned a rich shade of scarlet, while the places on her skin that were repeatedly smacked, were beginning to rise with tiny welts.

  He’d loved leaving marks. they both loved looking at them for days after. It was amazingly satisfying for Jack to see them there, reminders that she was his submissive, and willingly allowed him such pleasures.

  The fights, the protests and the anger were games they played. They long ago figured out that the two of them belonged together, one submissive, one dominant, and this foreplay of punishment, this reenactment of old fashioned justice, served to satisfy them in ways that reflected their darkest desires.

  Judgment, punishment and correction, were terms more aptly associated with relationships as antiquated as the butter paddle and leather strap he used on Roslyn’s behind.

  But nonetheless they took a 1990’s twist in their peculiar household.

  “So my love, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, as she was recouping from the paddling. “Usually Roslyn was serene and peaceful following a vigorous confrontation with the butter paddle. But this time she was not so content, as he imagined she should be.

  “Nothing,” she answered meekly, acting like a little mouse. That was totally out of character for her. She may be submissive, but she was also a feisty brat. To be meek meant only one thing.

  “You’re hiding something,” Jack charged. He spoke to her sternly, not liking the prospect of having to drag the truth from her.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful.

  They were sitting side by side in their chairs, looking at each other; Roslyn trying to convince him and herself that she was perfectly alright, while inside there was some dark secret bubbling up, though as yet she had no words to name it.

  Jack had a strange smirk on his face.

  “No! You can’t read my mind,” she said. “You know nothing about this.”

  “Aha! There is something!” he exclaimed with a devilish gleam in his eye.

  “But even I don’t know what it’s about,” she said triumphantly. And she was telling the truth. It wasn’t unusual for the wildly creative Roslyn to harbor so many offbeat sexual desires that even she couldn’t figure what had grabbed the attention of her loins, away from the desires she already knew so well.

  “So I can expect some grand unveiling,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. He knew in time, probably within an hour or two, Roslyn would have named her new delight, and they’d be off to another passionate rendering of sexual appetites in a manner only Roslyn could concoct.

  They played with fantasy, wild scenarios that they enacted between the two. On occasion they invited other people to join them - though that rarely worked out since few people had their unique sensibilities.

  Some of their best times revolved around semi public exhibition. Roslyn was an exhibitionist who loved to flaunt her shapely body to admiring audiences. In their Jeep outside a girlie bar, Jack would fondle her tits and squeeze her nipples through her blouse, so some hot young stud in the car next to them couldn’t help but see the show. What horny man wouldn’t stop to enjoy the sight of a woman with her breasts seductively exposed, and a hand between her legs playing with her cunt?

  After playing their game for a while, when Roslyn and Jack were so hot they couldn’t stand it any longer, she’d flash the voyeur a last flirting smile, and Jack would drive away. They’d find some country road to mosey down so they could both get off, Roslyn first, followed by a quick blow job to Jack’s stiff prick.

  Their semi public frolics drove their sexual appetites nearly as high as their punishment rituals and spanking scenarios. They were never bored; there was so much creative variety in their love making and their lives.

  They expressed what came naturally from their loins, preferring to be spontaneous rather than contrived. Trying to be too specific with any fantasy never really worked, and that was why Jack didn’t often tell his wife what plans he had in mind. He was a maestro at taking Roslyn’s raw creative material and setting up possibilities. What happened in the end was up to the moment and their immediate fancy.

  And hour later, Jack asked again, “So what’s this secret desire?” Instinct told him that Roslyn had the mysterious answer to her earlier quandary.

  She fidgeted. That was a dead give away.

  “I… I don’t exactly know how to put this Jack …” she hedged.

  “You usually don’t have
a problem telling me your thoughts.”

  That wasn’t true at all, she thought. She had a hell of a time telling him things because she knew he’d only have more raw materials to work with. Before she knew it, she’d see her day dreams played out in real life. Sometimes before she was ready.

  Jack never balked at anything; he never had a problem enjoying her outlandish sexual reveries, whether they were exhibitionist or spanking. But Roslyn was decidedly more cautious, often troubled by the exuberant creativity that spawned such weird wild orgies in her head. Through years of experience with Roslyn, Jack had learned to temper his immediate enthusiasm for her delicious desires, trying to make certain that Roslyn was as ready for her fantasies as he was, before he’d make them real.

  “C’mon, you’re going to tell me sooner or later,” Jack encouraged her.

  Roslyn looked at him sheepishly. “Well, this sort of combines my most “out there” ideas,” she began.

  “In what way?” he asked.

  “Well,” she was hesitating like a guilty child, “I thought it would be really nasty if you spanked me in front of someone else.”

  Jack looked at her, surprised by her admission, though pleased. “An audience? Is that so?” he said at last.

  “Yeah,” she confirmed. “But listen, it can’t be something contrived, it’s got to be real, I mean I’d really want to get into it, really enjoy it. Goddam, it makes my belly churn just thinking of it.”

  “Good,” Jack said. He was suddenly looking pensive, pondering carefully, as if he were right then deciding how to give his dear Roslyn this latest desire.

  “But you don’t have go out and make it happen tonight, I’m just telling you because … because you asked.”

  “Of course, trust me sweetie,” there was a delicious smirk on his face. “Only when you’re ready.” He looked at her, loving her beautiful face and her soft fragrant body and her wild imagination and even her reluctance. He loved controlling her, though she was like putting a flame in a bottle, like capturing a savage tiger; the flame would go out if not allowed to breathe, and the wild tiger would not remain wild if he kept it captive too long.

  All in good time, he thought to himself as he considered her desire, all in good time. This one requires delicacy and just the right excuse, and just the right people to witness the event!

  “Come here wench,” Jack ordered her. His demand usually meant one thing. “Let me see you.”

  “But we just …. “

  “Shush,” he said firmly with a finger pressed to his lips.

  She stood in front of him, and he made her turn around, and pull up her skirt so he could see the marks; though only faint lines remained where he’d struck her bottom an hour before.

  “Put on some music,” he said. “I want you to dance for me. I want you to pretend you have an audience around you, pretend there’s someone in room that’s going to see this bottom of yours blistered bright red.”

  Roslyn blushed. In her imagination she could feel what it might be like to have the audience she craved. She put a favorite seductive piece of music on the CD player, and returning to her place in front of Jack, she began to dance. Swaying her hips in front of him, she moved like an exotic dancer, jiggling her breasts in his face, and pushing her stretch pants down over her hips. She turned around in time to the music and bent over, thrusting out her bottom, churning it as his watchful eyes observed the unveiling of her naked bottom.

  “You are really a slut Roslyn,” he murmured. She could tell, even though she wasn’t facing him, that his dick was rock hard, that it was standing at attention in his lap, with his hand jerking it madly. She churned her ass even more and felt his free hand slap her fanny hard, right over the place he’d just heartily paddled.

  “You monster,” she moaned, though she wasn’t in any pain.

  He continued slapping her even when she tried to rise. “Stay put,” he ordered her. And she was forced to jiggle her behind seductively to the beat of his hand coming down on her butt in one stinging smack after another.

  “Oh yes more,” she purred. She wasn’t complaining. The sharp stinging smack of his hand was not painful at all, just hot beating pleasure.

  “Quite a time Roz, quite a time I’ll have punishing this naughty little butt for gawking voyeurs.” The slaps continued. “I like this fantasy,” he murmured. The idea had him hot, so hot his stiff dick was about to cum.

  Roslyn in her own erotic world could feel those other eyes staring at her, humiliating her, watching her bottom turn scarlet. Her cunt was throbbing, her juices sticking to the sides of her legs. She wished she could turn her head and see some strange stern face looking on, appreciating every cruel slap.

  “Rub yourself,” Jack ordered.

  She couldn’t wait; her hand was between her legs, playing with the juicy folds. She rose enough to steady herself, and at last turned around. By then Jack was more interested in getting off than spanking. She dropped between his legs and helped him out, taking his sweet tasting cum into her mouth and letting it dribble just a bit down her chin, just the way he loved it to.

  “Lay over the footstool,” he instructed her when he’d recouped enough to think of Roslyn’s mounting orgasm.

  She complied. On her hands and knees over the foot stool, she swayed her fanny seductively in the breeze as her hand deftly fingered her throbbing cunt, and Jack resumed his playful burning slaps.

  She built to one peak and he stopped her. His hand was joyfully having its way, seeing to it that her bottom was as crimson as it had been earlier that day.

  “Oh not so much,” she moaned.

  He didn’t listen.

  “Play with yourself,” he ordered again. And her hand, wet with her succulent juices, resumed the masturbation, moving her headlong towards her peak.

  She smashed into the orgasm. All at once it was there, and she jerked and writhed, and snapped back her head, forgetting where she was, poised precariously on the ottoman.

  Jack came to her aid, guiding her back to her place; though she collapsed moments later, to lie across the plush fabric of the footstool. She was breathing heavily, and quivering softly as the last of the sensations had come and gone.

  Jack rubbed her rear tenderly.

  “It turned you on, didn’t it?” he asked.

  “What, what are you talking about?” she was hardly conscious.

  “The fantasy, the audience. You were imagining one, weren’t you?”

  She didn’t want to admit it, but he already knew. “Weren’t you thinking about it too, you certainly got off quickly?” she asked.

  “Damn right,” he confirmed. “I’ll just have to see what I can do about this one.”

  She knew he meant it, as charged as they were … there was no doubt this was one for real life, not just pretend.

  It was at least two months later when Jack threw a magazine in front of Roslyn with an advertisement circled. It was a spanking magazine, a Personal Ad marked with his red pen.

  “Answer it,” he said, in a no nonsense tone of voice.

  “You mean that?” she asked, looking up to see his determined expression.

  “I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t mean it,” he replied.

  “Dominant male, interested in joining couples in their spanking games. For variety and spice - the added exhilaration that comes from exposing your dominant submissive relationship to an appreciative audience. Write to Bryce, P.O. Box … .”

  She read the advertisement several times. Jack and Roslyn had read the spanking personals together on a number of occasions but they hadn’t acted on any of them before. This one made her surge with that fine rush she always got when her sexual fires had been ignited.

  “What would I tell him?” she asked.

  “The truth,” Jack replied. “That you’re submissive to your husband, that you enjoy a good thorough spanking for both punishment and eroticism, and that we’ve both been wanting someone to share our way of life with us.”

 
“And why this ad?” she asked curiously.

  “I’m not sure, something in my gut I suppose. It’s worded rather uniquely don’t you think?”

  There were dozens of ads, but he was right; there was none that spelled out their exact desire quite so precisely.

  “You’re finding this difficult, aren’t you?” Jack observed her reluctance.

  “Yes,” she replied honestly.

  “Good, that means I’ve hit the mark. So don’t stall. Get it ready today and I’ll put it in the mail in the morning.”

  Perhaps it was some precognitive flash of what was to come, but whatever, Roslyn was trembling as she wrote the letter. It was almost like addressing another lover, though this one would have access to her most hidden secret from the very beginning. What had taken years to reveal and resolve with Jack would be right out in the open from the start with this man. It was a compelling thought.

  The letter sent, Jack was determined to keep any replies and arrangements with Bryce secret from Roslyn. At least to begin with. He wasn’t used to keeping secrets from her, but in this case he decided that discretion was necessary. He needed to make sure that Bryce was truly what they needed, and he didn’t want to make Roslyn anxious for no reason. No doubt she’d be filled with all kinds of imaginings anyway. Let her stew for awhile and wonder if he was really going to set up a meeting.

  The first letter from Bryce was a simple, nonspecific reply, digging a little more deeply for Jack and Roslyn’s motives and desires.

  Jack replied, ” … I’d like an opportunity to get together in some setting where I can discipline my wife in front of you. But she’s wary of anything contrived so we would both need to guard against that.”

  Bryce responded, ” … Perhaps being direct and honest is the best policy. We meet, get to know each other, discuss our mutual desires frankly; and when the appropriate opportunity arises, and Roslyn has earned her punishment, I’ll be there to witness it. The act will be as natural as if you were punishing her by herself.”

  His suggestion made sense to Jack. He had the distinct feeling that he was going to like this man; he might be someone quite like himself. Strange in all their years, playing with these unusual fantasies he’d never taken the opportunity to know another dominant. The prospect was fascinating in itself.