Retribution
by Denny (a.k.a. Naughty Denny)

"I only have one unforgivable rule. I told you that if you ever broke it, it would mean the end of our relationship." he said.

"I'm sorry, I'll do anything. Please," I begged.

"Anything?" he questioned.

"Yes, I'm so sorry. I'll never do it again," I promised.

"Will you take a spanking, a whipping? It will be longer and harder than I've ever given you," he asked.

"Yes, if that's what you want, then yes," I eagerly answered.

"Then remove your panties, lift up your skirt and bend over the back of the chair. You'll stay there until I tell you that you may move. You may get up at any time, but if you do before I tell you to, you're to get dressed, and leave and never return. Do you understand?" he stated firmly.

"Yes, whatever you want," I quickly said reaching to remove my clothes. He moved the large overstuffed chair to the middle of the room. I looked into his eyes. They lacked any of the warmth that I've always loved. I felt shiver of fear run down my back as I bent over the chair. My eyes caught the digital clock on the table -- 9:37.

There was no warm-up. The large heavy paddle caused an explosion in my ass. Before the pain reached its peak, there was another, then another. Soon my mind was a blur. 9:54 brought on the cane. Stroke after unrelenting stroke. Then he stopped. Moments later I felt him wipe the blisters on my ass. From the sting it was apparent he had broken the skin. 10:21, and it started again. And again. What does he want? My ass has never been beaten like this. The skin is raw, and yet he continues. I screamed with the pain ... he said nothing. 10:49, the paddle, the cane, the paddle. Would he never be satisfied? 11:04, what did he want from me? How much more can I take? My tears were flooding into the seat of the chair.

11:12, "STOP, I can't take any more! Please, stop," I screamed and stood up. My skirt slid painfully down over my raw cheeks. I knew the rule but I just couldn't take any more. I started to walk to the door. It was over.

"Wait, come back," he said. "I forgive you. I needed to see how much you'd take for me. You were so very brave."

I turned and faced him. The warmth had returned to his eyes. His arms were open and inviting. "And I needed to see how much you'd hurt me," I responded as I turned and walked out the door.

I can see, in a way, why the author chose this for the 'Edge' category for I was wincing along with the poor victim watching the digital clock along with her. I started thinking , at what point does a punishment spanking become something monstrous and dreadful and I'm glad that she made the right decision at the end. I love happy endings! :)

A grim little tale, nicely written, but which didn't pull up any special trees for me.

Ouch. I didn't see this one coming. The precise notations of time give the story both immediacy and authenticity. The writer needs to be careful of tense shifts, though; the narrative drifts between past and present. However, this little grammar glitch is forgivable because the denouement is such a powerful one.

This was an interesting mind game between these two people.  I felt the pain of that spanking from your description. So many catch-22's in this situation.  First she submits to save the relationship, but he pushes her until she breaks, telling her she has to "take it."  I was really glad at the end when she walked out of there.  Nice idea, well executed.

This fit into the Edge category excellently.  We openly have difficultly admitting our own trepidation at trusting others, yet, in fantasy, we seldom broach the topic of a top violating a bottom.  Well done.

I had a few questions about the description of the whipping.  I suspect the bottom's flesh would have gone numb with shock at some point, or there might have been other physical reactions to the severity, such as loss of bladder control, loss of consciousness at some point, certainly dizziness, possibly nausea, and the difficultly with which a person who had just endured such an ordeal would have walking afterwards.  She might be shaken and determined, leaning on the wall, gripping a door frame, on her way out.  I think such detail would only enhance the story.

Perhaps the author was afraid to write about something he didn't know because he had never been blistered and bloodied.  In which case, Research, my dear.