Punishment and Submission

Tristan was the one with the most immersive experience Spanker that ever lived. To tell the truth not only from the point of view of the lost lover and the like but from every point of view.
But let's start step by step. Maybe I have not said that I travel extensively for work, in fact I am in charge of risk assessment and fire damage of major industrial plants for the insurance company. In April of 1978 I was just viewing for a large sawmill near the village of *******. The director and the 'managing director, the attorney Silla, were showing me the factory belonging to the family of a luminary of medical science who died tragically two years ago in a car accident with his wife, when we crossed the owner, Tristana, daughter of the late Prof. Malombra, so I presented her with a tone that, now I remember, he got suddenly serious concern and veiled, the lawyer. Silla. The young woman of 25 years, she was beautiful, a beautiful and disturbing magnetic. Long hair, light blond, almost platinum, big eyes, dark gray, piercing eyes. The small full-lipped mouth was adorned with bright red lipstick. I smiled slightly. A sweet smile unintelligible and enigmatic at the same time. I remember that first meeting, as if it had happened just an hour ago. After a brief exchange of pleasantries I left with the director and lawyer. I knew, even without seeing her, that she was following me with his eyes. Well, for several days I could not help but think of it. Information about her first assumed by some acquaintances, and then quietly in the country, but nobody could give me accurate information. I knew only that a girl Tristana was very reserved, rarely to be seen around. He attended the University for some time but had not graduated. It seemed to be little interest in the sawmill, but no one knew exactly what they do. Do not you know no boyfriend, or otherwise, if there was no one had come to know and certainly was not there. He had never bonded with the people of ******* admitted that he had ever connected with someone. It was certainly beautiful and rich enough, not rich, but it certainly was a very attractive morsel for a good marriage. Two weeks after the first meeting I went back to the sawmill to sign the insurance contract. Tristana was also present at the signing. I had a sinking heart. She wore a simple gray suit. Despite the heels, not to exceed without shoes to guess the five feet. He never spoke for the entire duration of the meeting but felt that his eyes were almost constantly to me. I've never been very handsome, tall and well placed in his youth, but all there. What can I say? Elective Affinities? Animal magnetism? for some reason I like them. Women for me were and remain an unfathomable mystery.
After the signatures and the toast Tristana took me aside and with a voice soft and childlike invited me to tea with her the next day. He had to expose myself important questions very private, he said. I tried gently to camp (in my heart I was happy to accept) some excuse about pressing work commitments but his voice dry and hard as the previous "--I will not accept waste" under the guise of kindness made me immediately desist.
Tristana lived outside the country, in an old mansion of the XVII century neo-Gothic style which was in a state of repair is not quite optimal, as I observed immediately with a professional eye. The ivy was slowly enveloping the entire building. The crumbling walls were blackened, possibly from the smog, the whole building had a sad and gloomy. The girl's grandfather, known king of the black market during World War II ^, l 'had bought for two pounds from a Jewish family fled to Switzerland. Rumor had it that the house would bring bad luck to its inhabitants. It seems that the place where it was built two witches were burned at the end of 1600. All nonsense, superstitions yokels, I thought then. Tristana lived there alone with an elderly housekeeper while the Belgian 'second childhood that she spent her time knitting, knitting and listening to music: mostly French songs and operas of Wagner. Moreover, it was half-deaf. You can imagine the effect of the equation equal hearing Wagner's music blaring over dusty and scratchy turntable on the host for the first time crossed the threshold of that place. No, definitely not the place I never liked.
We had tea in the room of Tristana. The girl was in her robe, the garment was a rather heavy fabric for the season. I understood only later that he was completely naked beneath. The situation seemed to me rather uncomfortable from the start but I imbarazzai even more so when the hostess poured me half sugar pants. Was profuse in his excuses, but it was obvious that he had done it on purpose. I pulled the chair from the table so I could clean better but Tristana not let me in, and vigorously brushing his hands ended up concentrating its efforts there. At some point as an experienced diver I gaff and pulled the eel out of the cave. The fingers of his right hand enameled in black grabbed my penis and began to beat him up and down with a slow pace. For a moment, muttered "-Miss Malombra, please ... -" Then, when the rod disappeared into the mouth of the pretty young I did not say any words understandable. We made love furiously, Tristana proved to be a wild cat insatiable. I bit his shoulders and scratched his back almost to the blood and penetrate the buttocks while lying on top of her. After sex she fell asleep curled up in fetal position. It seemed like a very young and defenseless child. I filled my nostrils the scent of her soft hair. I studied the small pointy nipples large breasts by as wild strawberries, the perfection of the knees and feet, and especially the nice little round ass and hard as marble. I imagined her lying on my knees, spanking full force and needlessly kicking and screaming moans and entreaties vain and immediately awoke from my stupor cucumber. I looked around. I had not noticed before but the whole room was full of dolls. From every angle, from all the shelves, the cabinet of a ridiculous pink-painted furniture, hundreds of dolls of all shapes and materials were watching, I looked at an alarming rate. There was something morbid in this. I dressed quickly, I was confused. The woman appealed to me as it had never happened before but at the same time I felt something indefinable that disturbed me. Then it was that tied me to Tristan for the next eighteen months. Tristana appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in front of me. She was wearing a purple shirt, but was still naked from the waist down. He handed me a large and thick black leather belt. "- It was my father, it is with this that corrected me when I behaved badly. I've been a bad girl, I must punish! - "I could not believe it, my fantasies were coming true for her as if she had read my thoughts. "What makes you think-I like these jokes? -" "- And that's all I know -" was the laconic reply. A moment later Tristana was kneeling on the bed bent elbows. I strap on bare ass and back of thighs firmly, methodically, without giving her respite. "-Your father gave you so strong? -" "- Oh no, rookie, much stronger, you can not do better? -" Shot in my pride I lost more quickly, without mercy. The buttocks were already bright red. "And you liked it-it's true, ugly slut? -" "-Ouch! AHII, be, I liked! AHII, enough!, AHII, again, please, AHII! I bathed and all ... Ah! Ouch! I'm wet! Noo! AHII! Again! - "The butt was filling up with blue spots when I threw the belt and penetrated again, this time from behind.
Since the discovery of my appreciation for the lost, the time when I lived by his uncles, I had only three sporadic experiences of spanking, one with a prostitute. Nothing remotely like that I lived with Tristana, which is the most exciting experience of my life before I met my wife, shorter and shallower than the latter but certainly more intense.
Tristana was a real actress, from time to time embodied the naughty schoolgirl, the negligent servant, the slave of ancient Rome, the thief caught in the act. Hand, beater, spoon belt, whip, rod plant, hemp rope, all received on the ass naked and always strictly mercilessly. His plump, smooth buttocks bounced with such grace under the blows that seemed to dance. The girl was crying, moaning, begging and insulting. He had a remarkable resistance and excited, very. Wet between the thighs to capacity could not resist the temptation to masturbate in front of me obscenely, deserving further punishment.
Of course we were too much sex "normal" her mouth and her pussy was a real pleasure garden, a paradise of lust. He was also able to convince her to give me back the use of the little hole.
Outside of sex, however, things were not going well. Rarely were leaving to go to the movies or dining out all the couples as normal. Only once was able to convince her to get into a nightclub. He seemed to appreciate just a little theater. Certainly not comedy or cabaret. Only plays in dark colors like Macbeth or Hamlet. But above all that was wrong was his reticence. He spoke of himself unwillingly. He was vague about his past, about his studies, its previous reports, some of that strange passion 'obsession with dolls. Parents never spoke except to mention the educational methods of his father who, he said, had the whip on the bare ass until a few days before the accident, and Tristan had already 23 years. I do not insist too much with the questions because they seemed to irritate a lot. But all this secrecy would send me mad. Only once he hinted at something. It was the first day of our anniversary dinner and we had a little 'too much to drink. Tristana was pretty drunk. "- You know, hee, hee, hee! -" The child was really scary laugh, chilling, I guess. "- The doctor makes me take the yellow pills to make me feel good, hee, hee, hee! But I do not need it! There are no more mom and dad to break the boxes hee, hee, hee, I told him to leave me alone, but they ... nothing. And Dad gave me the straps on the ass ... and how he liked it! Hee, hee! Then the car went off the cliff ... bam! "At this point she began to cry. I was not much more sober than she, and not said too much weight to his words. When he was stripped naked and I found something better to do than pour champagne on her breasts and belly, and follow every single drop on his white, silky skin on tip of tongue. Sucked the small cup of wine from her navel and I forgot everything.
Another of his mysterious talent that surprised me was his singular knowledge of engines, really strange in a woman. Once we had stopped on the street because of a failure to my Beetle was she to quickly identify the problem and give the right straight to the mechanic.
Rarely slept together, and only after much persuasion on my part. I did not understand the reasons for its refusal and we had some discussion.
It had been about two months from the day of 'anniversary and the revelations made by Tristana under the influence of alcohol, when during an argument got out for the first time the story of the yellow pills. I did it without malice, without ulterior motives, but I did and soon had to repent. "You should take a dose-industrial than your damn yellow pills to calm down! -" I shouted. Tristana I glared at him. His eyes were so much wanted to incinerate them loads of anger. ". Who told you about the yellow pills?!, Who?!, Speaks bastard?! - "I was thrilled, amazed by the explosion of violence. He felt the shock and fear that they made their way inside me. "-But you, dear, it was you, the day of our anniversary, and ... -" Do not let me finish. Suddenly the knitting of the housekeeper who was present at the scene appeared unmoved in the right hand of Tristana. I pointed them in the throat and began to scream "- Bugiardoo! You're a liar!, Get out now! - ". I walked away like a whipped dog. For a week I did not see. Then Tristana called me apologizing for their actions, adding that the first time, at least up to two months after having met, had taken a mild antidepressant, the yellow pills, exactly, but now he no longer needed. He said in a low voice broken by sobs that she loved me. I let myself be persuaded and went back to her. It was instead the beginning of the end. The quarrels were multiplied. Once the sculacciai angrily from the walls using the buckle. The stool bleeding buttocks and thighs. She laughed and cried while the whip. The game was turning into violence. I left her in the care of the housekeeper that I threw continual glances of reproach. I felt guilty. From that moment I hit the most.
Even the sex gradually became less frequent.
His speeches became more and more disconnected, dissociated by the subject of conversation of the moment, delirious. Rather than longing for what I felt was now Tristana affection and mercy, compassion mixed with fear. That woman was crazy. In the end I decided to end it.
At the last meeting, one in which I explained that our story would end there, Tristana greeted me dressed all in black, with beautiful hair in a bun penitential. Lacked only the tissue to cover her face and would be the perfect widow of the first half of last century.
This greatly increased my discomfort but did not stop me to tell you that I left. Certainly not in a direct way, I pulled out the usual crap on pause for reflection, etc., etc., and a little 'I was ashamed, but my will could not be misunderstood. Tristana's reaction was surprisingly calm and civil. He said that once she realized that things were not working with us anymore and that it was best to leave as good friends. We toasted to their future fortunes. Then Tristana wanted to celebrate in a dignified farewell. In less than no time I had taken off his pants, dropped her pants and took his cock in her mouth. I protested that it was not the case, but when taken with the tip of the tongue to titillate the frenulum closed my eyes and I enjoyed the best oral sex of my life. I must have fallen asleep because I dreamed. I was in a dark room, or maybe it was a cave? There were only candles or torches, could not make out well, which illuminated the place badly. I realized I was naked, with his hands tied behind his back and a gag in her mouth. I was kneeling in front of a strain. From the darkness emerged the figure of a Monaco with a large pointed hood which concealed his face. He walked up to overtake and pulled back the hood. Tristana was. His face was deformed by a sneer and cruel. He grabbed my penis and positioned on the block. The terror came over me. Cape from his right hand he drew a welcome. When the lower it got up to the glow on my penis on the blade of light blinded me. I woke up screaming. I was in bed in the room of Tristana. My dick was still in place but Tristana kept him firmly in hand. She looked at me and his eyes had the exact same dream. The right hand held a pair of hedge shears with which cut up the air menacingly. "- You had a bad dream, dear? -" Exclaimed sarcastically. Then he grew serious. "- You can go," he "remains with me -".
It must have been the instinct of survival. With a presence of mind that surprised even me do not gave her time to sink the cutting-sferrai a left hook in the face that threw it back. I grabbed shoes and jacket, which luckily I had left documents and car keys and ran outside in his underwear. I rushed home and was driving like a madman by mere chance that the fighters or the traffic police not stopped me.
Two days later the lawyer. Sulla I phone to arrange a meeting. I went to his studio the next day. Finally learned the truth or at least a considerable part of it. Else had been (the governess) to warn him. Tristana was completely crazy. Bipolar disorder, the lawyer explained to me, with incipient paranoid schizophrenia. Over the past two years had been better, but now the disease was worse and it was necessary to admit the new Swiss clinic had a few years before had taken care of. The lawyer would follow the legal procedures for the ban on behalf of some distant relatives. It was a cordial conversation. The lawyer. Sella said almost smiling that his client would not have made a complaint to the master hand that had been sold. I had two broken teeth. Then he grew serious. The public prosecutor had suspected of Tristana for the death of their parents. A report had found that the brakes on the car they were traveling at the time of the fatal accident had been tampered with. He had not felt it highly unlikely that the poor had been unbalanced able to make such a mechanical intervention, for which he had closed the case. A shiver ran through my back, I thought the failure of the machine that had happened months before and the perfect knowledge of mechanics revealed by Tristana. Startled for a moment. I knew the truth but said nothing.
"- There's another bad thing, but I refuse to believe it-" continued the lawyer. "- Three years ago, mysteriously disappeared in these parts a Salesman. The last time he was seen was around in the company of Tristana. You know, I begin to think that the rumors about the curse that weighs on the villa and its abtanti have some foundation-". After a couple of hours I left with the promise that I would not have denounced the attempt to Tristana castration. She had enough problems.
I never saw her again. The latest news about her, I learned the five years after the events recounted. Tristana was all right, consistent with his illness, of course. It was still quiet in the clinic and lived in his crazy world, but perhaps finally clear. Only once he asked me.
I loved Tristana '. you. In her there is a part of me, mine is a part of her. Every so often I think with tenderness and almost with regret, I must be a little 'crazy too. Sometimes, however, the dream and I just do not. In the dream, Tristana is still beautiful. His piercing eyes and her radiant smile touches my heart. Then suddenly, the expression changes. The lips assume a mocking grimace of ferocity and in his right hand there are two long and sharp scissors. Then I wake with a start sweating and panting.