Punishment and Submission

I fell into a deep depression. The epilogue of the story with Tristana so dramatic and grotesque I was deeply marked. Those nightmares that now have become very rare at that time were rather common. I began to neglect the work up to the brink of dismissal. Relationships with customers and colleagues had gradually rarefied. I constantly feel sad and annoying that I spoke from behind and laughing at me. I do not know how, but had spread to the voice of my misadventure. Of course I had very serious risk of being castrated, perhaps killed. The idiots were the situation comedy! I wanted to see them cut off with the bird! But more than the laughter of men bothered me a pitying glances of only two female colleagues of 'office. I felt drained. I was alone, I was disgusted, including myself. When the idea of ​​suicide began to appear more frequently in my head I knew to be a turning point. I had to at least try. It finally began to treat me. The Director of the Agency, who had learned to appreciate me before I became a rag man, offered me a transfer at the offices of **********. He was a downgrade, I knew, but I needed to feel comfortable, to find myself. I accepted with resignation, but all in all I was partially satisfied. The seat was not too far from the house of his uncles and then could not stand now, neither the environment nor the agency almost all my colleagues. I would have gladly smashed with fists and sticks.
It was at the new place of employment that met Clelia. In the morning, before taking office, I stopped almost every day at the corner bar with respect to the agency. It was a neat little place and well maintained. The coffee was good. I consumed my nice frothy cappuccino sitting at a table, flipping through the few national and international news pages of the local newspaper or the "pink" (nda La Gazzetta dello Sport). At the counter served two girls: Marta, about 19 to 20 years, pretty but sullen talking, or rather muttered in his northern dialect incomprehensible and indeed Clelia, a young woman of 25, 26 years, but certainly not the prettiest of the other much more sociable. Oh sure it was not very expansive and had an attitude somewhat reserved, but he was kind, attentive to customer needs, at the right spirit. Two were the qualities which had struck me on first meeting and indeed I think they hit every drinker: A radiant smile and warm for 35 seconds I reconciled with life and a nice pair of tits that were really great a great look great poorly protected they were by fitting tank top (It was now late May and that year was particularly hot).
Clelia had none of the disturbing beauty of Tristana. In his big brown eyes I could see just a hint of sweet melancholy, and nothing to do with the eerie light of madness that transpired from the beautiful eyes of Tristana. Yet even Clelia had his little secret. Oh, Women!.
It happened on a Wednesday or Thursday?, Well, it does not matter. I was at the bar and read the titles of the sports newspaper highly critical of the national football team that was preparing to compete in the World Cup in Spain, when I remembered that I had to call his aunt. I should have done the night before but I forgot I was guilty. "If I do not call me on Sunday black ass" and I smiled to myself remembering when I was a kid my aunt chasing evil and brandishing a wooden spoon. There was a little jerky phone behind the counter and decided to take advantage. As I opened the cabin door my eye fell on the floor corner. There was a book with a bookmark. The title was "The eleven thousand rods" by Guillaume Apollinaire. I had read a bit 'of time before. And 'an erotic novel of the beginning of the twentieth century containing a vast collection of "perversions" sexual. The general tone is grotesque and surreal. Here and the reading can be very unpleasant, at times the text is fun. Curiously, the bookmark was placed between two pages describing a scene of spanking. Flipping through the booklet, I noticed that all the sentences that dealt with spanking and whipping on the ass were underlined. - But, that particular tastes that have the maidens - I thought the bartenders. I said nothing and made my phone call.
The next day I was seized with curiosity to see if that text so spicy it were still there. I went to the cabin with the excuse of the call and to my surprise, the floor was no longer "The eleven thousand rods" but "Delta of Venus" by Anais Nin. As I remembered it was a collection of stories dating back to 20 -30 years of the twentieth century when it was recounted one episode of spanking. I leafed through the pages quickly and I found that story. The scene of the lost was underlined with the yellow highlighter.
Even greater was the surprise when I realized that in a nylon bag on which was placed the book there were a dozen erotic comics all from the series "Isabella".
I leafed through them and found that even in the midst of the adventure genre "swashbuckling" Sapphic scenes were inserted and lost. - Three clues are a test "I thought, one of the maidens was a kindred soul. For a long time not thinking about my desire and inclination. With the awakening of the senses after a long winter of my heart and my mind was waking up this aspect of my sexuality. I hoped so much that it was Clelia. Then I fear not like it, that was not really interested in trying, in the end we did not know ... and a whole series of conjectures me affastellarono in the brain. - It 'my stuff, that is my brother ... - Clelia had appeared suddenly. I abruptly took the envelope with a embarrassed expression. Her cheeks as red as cherries. I apologized and smiled - Still, I understand more than pictures - From the moment we entered gradually into confidence. We began to see us outside of office hours. We talked about everything and of course the "what". Clelia had discovered this particular angle a little 'time. He had not had direct experiences in the family, but she realized that the scenes of the movie where there were spanking or flogging in general, but especially the first very impressed. The disturbed and attracted at the same time. Fourteen years on the view of the cover of a book of Isabella had excited. The picture represented the protagonist of the comic heroine wielding a rod with the arm raised. Bent over a four-poster bed with a young girl raised her skirt showed a round ass whole traversed by red stripes. The 'expression of fear and pain was punished. Clelia hurried home and masturbated in the bathroom. Had not had real experiences of spanking. With the ex-boyfriend had sex only "normal". After a month we were dating we made love. The vision of her ass like a mandolin so rosy and tempting heightened my desire to groom you must but I resisted. I limited myself to kiss him and he felt that Clelia mordicchiarlo.Volevo ready. Then it happened. It was the 'July 11, 1982. I was at her house. Cousin Martha was out with friends. We decided to watch the final World Cup of soccer together. - I propose a bet - he said with a mischievous air by putting a tantalizing pause, the girl - That? - I came - If Italy wins give me a good spanking. It 'so much as you like. But if Germany wins I'll give them to you. But thou taper sculaccerai only hands but I'll use the belt - I agree - I said - But get ready to take lots and bare ass. I'll decide how many you take. Mind you, I will be deaf to all entreaty. - Then began the historic game. We looked at each other's arms like a cool couple who were on the other hand, but with decidedly opposite expectations. When Cabrini missed a penalty in the first time I feared for my ass. I accepted the bet, but are funda mentally a spanker. So I like to bang their asses, but others are much less enthusiastic about taking them. Fortunately, as we know, the second time the race took a favorable trend in the Italian colors ... and the color of my ass. At the first goal of Clelia Rossi cominiciò agitated and biting his nails. At the second goal Tardelli Clelia swallowed with a funny expression of concern was that the contract the cheeks. At the third goal of Altobelli looked at me pleadingly. At the final whistle and all the houses nearby were shouting with joy and poured into the street, Clelia was lying on my knees and begged softly to floor, and pulled down her pants to the knees. - Please, please, do ... ah, ah, alas, alas! The sculacciai vigorously, slowly, alternating soft pats on the hills. My handful had the effect of an earthquake on the beautiful roundness rear of Clelia. Then accellerai. A barrage of spanks and then a slow but steady cadence of new, robust slaps. The ass was red and hot. The girl was kicking in a delightful sliding her panties to her ankles. "Enough, please, sob! Sob!, You do that thing with your mouth that you enjoy so much but do not spank me anymore! - You're a slut! Have her pussy all wet! Are you a lake! But now I make you black ass to the sound of spanking. Take it, take it and take it! And down on the butt spanked for the truth already well proven. I went on a couple of minutes. After the spanking Clelia looked at me with his mouth slightly open and moist, rosy cheeks crossed by a few tears. Snza many compliments I undid his pants and without giving her time to rub a little of the poor made her sit on my ass already turgid cock and launch position. We came quickly, almost in unison. Later Clelia confessed that he had always thought that 'Italy would have won, In the end we had hoped, but ... who knows what would happen if the outcome of the final was another.
I will never forget that night and that game. We could not have better to celebrate the victory.
A year later became my wife Clelia.

My wife always forgets to renew the license, at maturity. So when the Police stop, apology, embarrassment, and even tears. Drama. Jo Why do not we see so well. Normal for his age. Go to a good ophthalmologist, who will prescribe the right glasses, please visit the ACI and I renew my license, I say forever. Too easy! If you do not complicate life with bureaucratic encumbrances, claims, files, exhausting, and so is not happy! Do not want to go to the doctor because he's afraid to tell her that the view is worse ....
For a week I was obsessed with his fears, until I blurted out, "Or do what I suggested, or do it alone. But, later, do not come complaining to me! if I hear one word of remorse, repentance out of your little mouth, I swear I'll do the latter as the Milan jersey: red and black stripes. "

Two days off from school (".... Both are already on vacation, there's nothing to explain, those can wait in the balance ...."), Turns to various car agencies, and nervous breakdown: eyes wet with rage .
"They said I must go to the medical board, the central engine!"
"Well, what did you expect? You are nearsighted, you know. It will mean that you will sell that kind of self-propelled box you bought it, and go to work, or from your mother, so those are the only moves you make, by bus. "
Open up the sky! I'll spare you his comments. Then, one evening ... ..
Jo is back at home, in the early afternoon, strangely silent. It is immediately attached to the telephone, in order: Mama, Pia (her best friend for a lifetime), Lucrezia, who, being affected by diabetes, a problem to renew your license it to us and Francesca. Finally, after an hour several good conversations, I appear before me in my study. "Do you prefer to use the whip or belt?" I am, so the amble. Will hide my eyes from the monitor, and stare. He understood, and is ready to pay the consequences, but is too proud and too stubborn to admit they were wrong, that I was right. "Come, dear, it can happen to everyone, you wait a bit 'of time, you spend all your holidays in driving lessons, theory and practice at a driving school, rifarai review and you'll see that you'll get your license ..."
"Do not try to be funny! Did you know that you were right. But it must always be so? Because you never wrong? Come on, Beat me! Showing macho, at least in the ... "
I want to say that among my many mistakes, there was also married to her, but I'd better shut up. I get up. Jo goes before me in the bedroom. He literally throws himself on the bed, face down.
"You always said you're not a masochist. Why, then, do you want spanked? "I am perplexed.
"Because you reproached me for at least a year! I do it two balls, with your Teloavevodettoio!. I might as well take off once thought ... so you're happy .... And then, I'm too stupid .... I love you too well! "Even from the deck face up to tell me these things.
The trousers of the suit, I get them down slowly, ditto with the panties. Jo's bottom looks like a white lamb ready to sacrifice to the cruel pagan. I am tender, especially when they contract the buttocks waiting beating. Light, a pat: just pink aura. I would be cruel if I put you under and / or violence. The skin shivers. Second pat, not to offend the other buttock remained untouched. Quand'anch'essa rubra, Jo I:
"Okay, it's over! Your pride is satisfied. We are too old for certain things ... "
She even looks at me, than simply saying, his voice a little 'route: "... see how you're stupid. You do not even remember that ..." For me, pull off the belt of his trousers is a significant problem: if you take it off they fall down. Somewhat ridiculous situation, you will agree!, Strapped to take you to find a woman with my pants down and certainly not for sex drive! Alternative: work towards your right hand to the left to hold me belt and pants.
Easier said than done, however I try. It 'was too strong! Jo makes a complaint: the stripe on his bottom trace of belts is far more red fingerprint manuals. I do not like, there is no reason why I do it ...
I put it back in the belt loops of his pants, I sit on the bed, next to Jo, and pull up your pants. She is grateful to me, approached me, her tiny body on mine. Our breaths are synchronous, I spend my arm around her shoulder, she lays her head on my stomach protruding. We remain a long way.

Lucia was, as far as I remember, a beautiful woman, despite age and overweight. Do not misunderstood! Not aroused no desire in me, I liked it for its charm, his intelligence, his sympathy.
"Finally, it was decided to leave! After more than thirty years of subjugation and oppression, Osvaldo has finally broken with the domineering virago ... "was telling my wife about the fact that Lucy had been left out of the blue by her husband, now ex.
"Well, you too have suffered their oppression ...." I interjected.
"What about it? - Said my wife was my-head, the first school where I taught ... - Jo thought for a moment, then exploded-You were right! If she were my wife, I would have beaten every day! "Then, he stopped, realizing what he had said. And not just because he broke the female solidarity ... in fact, he corrected himself, looking grim: "Keep your illusions, you! I was saying, so to speak ... "
It was a beautiful summer, in the sense that he had done very hot. I hate the heat: they are kind of northern climate, polar ... I was chatting with Jo, just the fact that the husband of his ex-principal, with which every so often you could hear the hypocrites season's greetings, had regained their freedom. Not that it interested me too much, but ...
Lucia is sheathed in a tight black dress, emphasizing its forms. The breasts small glimpse into the neckline, the hips are accentuated by cutting sewing craft, good quality. Cigarette smoke rises upwards, coming from his lips highlighted by crimson lipstick, blonde hair, recolored by a skilled hairdresser, framed her tanned face. "It is! You've convinced me! Do as you wish. Let it be clear about one thing, though: I do it for my own free choice, and not because you impose it to me. " China is to put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table before her: the cylinder of white paper and tobacco, still burns in 'glass bulb. Lucy takes a deep sigh, as if a great weight lifted from the heart ... "Where ... where ... ... I can prepare myself?" I asked, avoiding looking at me.
"Here, in front of me!" I say. I can not discount them: the next pain, the shame should be added earlier.
Lucy raises her not inconsiderable weight of the chair in the living room, it seems to me to take uncertainty in his legs, when standing. But in an instant. Quickly brings her arms behind her back, her fingers loose the buttons of her dress. The top apparel falls down, after Lucy shrugged. A few seconds later, all the black material on the slides. The undergarment is of the same color, as well as underwear. Cross your arms to take her silky slip. Perhaps by age, perhaps determining, Lucy still preferred wearing stockings instead of pantyhose. Straits on the sides, embellished with macramé mawkish, his suspenders hanging left hungry, biting the edge of the darker stockings very exciting discovery of the strip of white leather pants and socks between the real, smoked.
Nodded to her silent prayer. Must remove that too. But he can not do, unless you sit down. Instead, no! It raises its own skin with two fingers of each hand and pushes it down simply. The strip of cloth stops just below the thighs, but it is useless now. The socks will hold up very well for themselves without support. The large breasts are lifted and lowered a couple of times, pushed the chest: two white balls, some streaked with bluish stream, as in the drawings of children. You take off the bra, but it only releases on his back, before turning. He bends forward, hands resting on the bottom floor of the red chair. And 'ready, and hopes that everything will end soon. It will be my task, however, to prolong his agony. How do I lower the pants, but suddenly without any delicacy, and she has a tremor.
Hand fingers well apart, hit without raising too much arm. Ciaffi! Noise sull'adiposo awesome ass imprint of a white glove on a red background all over the marble. Lucy bends his knees: he felt, and how if she felt! Ciaffi!, But on the back. Sighs, grief. So much the better, because now really suffer.
Ciaffi Ciaffi Ciaffi ... faster and louder, until she bends her knees, unable to bear the unbearable burning which bathes the skin of that vast globe. "Stop, I beg you ..." a voice asks me whining.
As I walk away to get something, Lucy runs a hand over her cheek to wipe the furtive tear. The dusting brush, which usually use for my wife Jo, seems too small for that ass too big but it will be sufficient. In fact, Lucy screams as soon as the bamboo strikes the irritated skin. On which, as he rubs the wood collection back. Short, fast, quick touches to increasingly irritate: then whipped strong, to be creepy. Mine and his, because in the bamboo penetrates ass swollen, as if it were butter, but purple ....
"Walter, are you listening?" My wife asked, her voice sharp.
"Yes dear, go well ..." I agreed, but it is as if I had awakened from a dream, a dream