She comes home after a bad day, and there’s an envelope under the door with a time for that evening written on a white card. She feels her secret feeling awaken.
She quickly strips off her day clothes and showers and puts on the right clothes. A black pleated skirt and tee-shirt, although it’s not as loose as she would prefer. The panties are white and plain. Not wearing a bra almost decides her not to respond to the note, but the new feeling shifts a little inside and she knows she has to go. The patient leather flat slip on shoes and the white ankle socks are the worst, and a few minutes later standing outside the now familiar door she is aware the backs of her bare legs feel very vulnerable and naked. She almost hurries back home scowling at this craziness—-but instead her hand lifts and knocks softly.
He opens the door and stern faced points to the spot marked on the floor where she must stand, and her shoulders sag slightly as she precisely lines up her heels on the spot. She frowns as she notices that her nipples have hardened and can be seen even through the looseness of the shirt and then quickly remembers and neutralizes her face.
He moves quietly around the room behind her and again she is aware of the shortness of the skirt and the vulnerability of her bare legs, and the new feeling turning inside her.
He keeps her standing there for over 5 minutes and she feels a tremor starting– which angers a part of her and somehow excites another.
He places a hairbrush on the coffee table in front of her. It’s a blue painted wooden one with a smooth shiny back and black soft bristles, and she wonders how he knew that the day hadn’t been bad enough for the crop.
Even so, she knew she would have reminders every time she sat down, over the next few days. She realized there was something sexual in the anticipation and felt a humiliation that somehow added to the arousal.
His voice was deceitfully soft as he said, “Adopt the position little one”, and she almost felt a relief to lean forwards from her waist–legs straight as he had demanded and hold onto the edge of the coffee table with both hands. She hoped he wouldn’t pull her panties to her knees and she froze as his gentle fingers hooked the waistband and slid them down. He waited until she stopped trembling before he flipped her short skirt over her back and waited again, then he lifted the hairbrush from the table.
The next 30 minutes held experiences she could never hope to describe to anyone. She had only vague awareness after the first warming strokes of the hairbrush, and other things he did with his fingers inside her. She was forced to respond, as she had never been able to ever do before. She could sob and cry in a new way that released old tightness and knots in her throat and chest and afterwards a calmness and serenity descended on her and she was able for the first time to accept his invitation and snuggle onto his lap and receive his cuddles and stroking. When he saw she was refreshed and had ‘returned’ fully he ushered he to his door and bent to softly kiss her cheek before allowing her to return to her place. She had never felt as alive as she hurried back home, knowing she would return whenever he summoned her.