When she came around again, Tara was in her now accustomed pose, standing between two poles, hands restrained to the sides and overhead.

The man was standing in front of her. “Glad to have you back with us, Tara,” he said smiling.

She saw that he was still wearing loose dark robes, as before, but now had a shorter hood than previously, so that for the first time, she could see the lower part of his face. Did the mouth look familiar? And where had she heard his voice before?

“This session will be devoted primarily to intercourse,” the man said, raising his hands toward Tara’s breasts. “With some spanking, naturally, just to keep you from getting bored,” he added. Tara felt her nipples hardening as soon as the man’s fingers touched them.

“We’ll continue to converse as we work,” he added, twisting and squeezing Tara’s blood engorged nubs as he spoke. She sighed as he expertly manipulated her sensitive breasts.

After a few minutes of handling her nipples, the man shifted his hands beneath her cones, lifting them to his mouth, to lick, then nibble each tender bud. Tara, her eyes closed to concentrate on the wonderful sensation, involuntarily blurted, “Oh, Master! That feels so good!”

“Would you like me to give you a nice, hard spanking, my dear?” the man asked, stepping back and releasing her heaving breasts.

“Yes, Master,” Tara responded automatically. “I mean, yes, please spank me, Master.” She immediately corrected herself.

“How do you wish to be spanked, Tara?” he asked, holding up in one hand the familiar (although hardly beloved) riding crop in one hand and a mean-looking wooden handled leather paddle with the other.

Tara swallowed. She had only just met the man, but she already understood certain things about him. If she gave the wrong answer, he was going to punish her more severely, then make her beg for whatever he wanted. She tried to temporize.

“Uh...I beg you to spank me with whatever you wish, Master…but hard!” she added, hoping this might satisfy him.

For an answer, the man swung the leather paddle down onto Tara’s defenseless bottom, where it connected with a loud thwack. The pain was so great that her vocal cords were frozen for an instant. Then she screeched, “Ahh, god!! That hurts so much!!” She tried vainly to reach her burning globes with her hands to rub the injured flesh.

“Good, huh?” the man smiled. “Now you will beg me to spank you with this paddle.”

The tears began to flow again. Tara’s lower lip trembled as she whispered, “Please spank me with…the paddle, Master.”

“Louder, please,” he commanded, “and more convincingly.”

“Please, Master,” she found it was a little easier now, after having been through this particular humiliating ritual once before, “I beg you to paddle me hard on my ass…I’ll be so…grateful.” She hoped he would accept this.

“All right, if you insist,” he replied cheerfully. “You remember the position from the first session, I suppose.” There was a click, and the straps holding her hands came free and slid down the pole.

Tara remembered it, all right. She had been down on the floor with her knees opened wide and her bottom stuck a mile in the air, with her sex on display. It was so totally degrading and submissive that she blushed when she pictured what she must have looked like to him. But she felt a thrill of excitement when she obediently dropped to ground, opened her legs and arched her back as far as it would bend to present her naked posterior to her anonymous captor.

The man was in no hurry. His hand rode over the curve of Tara’s ass and spread her labia open. He probed the interior of her slit, fiddled with the greasy, slippery flesh for a little while, then took possession of her turgid love-knob. Tara gasped and wagged her hips lasciviously as he casually handled her, her body responding to the pleasure that came from the intimate caresses.

The hand withdrew and Tara squeezed her eyes shut and her buttocks together in anticipation of what she knew was coming. There was a whoosh, then a thwack! when the heavy paddle slammed into her plush bottom. The paddle was much worse than the crop, Tara discovered, because each stroke spread a broad, fiery band of pain across her ass that was very hard to endure.

“Ahhgh! It hurts. Please no more. I’ll be good, I promise, Master.” Tara begged, trying to placate the man.

“That’s zero,” He responded, bringing the paddle down again, this time across Tara’s upper thighs.

Tara screamed “One! Thank you Master!” She recalled that begging for mercy was permitted. “Please be kind to me, Master, don’t hurt me anymore.”

He struck again. “Don’t you think you are benefitting from all the time I’m spending correcting you?”

Tara wept as she answered, “Two! Thank you, Master. Please, it’s kind of you to correct me. I’m sure it improves me.”

He paused to consider this with paddle held high, then lowered the weapon. “So?” he asked, “if you are deriving improvement from this discipline, why would you want me to stop? I suspect that you were trying to deceive me when you asked to be spanked, and that in truth you don’t want me to correct you at all.”

Tara appreciated the pause in the paddling this debate had caused. She thought quickly. “Oh no, Master, I love being spanked by you. It’s just that …ah…I am… unworthy of all the time you spend correcting me.”

The man chuckled. “That is typical of you Tara, I suppose; always thinking of others and never of yourself,” he said with amused irony. “I thank you for your consideration, but you don’t need to worry about me. I have all the time we need, and it’s really no chore at all to train you.”

Before she could speak again, he struck her helpless bottom again with the heavy paddle. Then, before Tara could stop screaming long enough to call out the count and thank him, he hit her again with a backhand swing that would have done credit to tennis professional. After that, the strokes rained down on Tara, until her bottom and the back of her thighs were an angry crimson and she felt as if her ass had been dipped in kerosene and set ablaze. She had long since given up any attempt to count the strokes; all she could do was scream wordlessly under the assault.

After approximately forever, the man decided she had had enough (or possibly, that he would sprain his arm if he continue much longer, Tara thought.)

“Do you want me to fuck you now, Tara?” he asked quietly.

She nodded her head, as she had not caught her breath after almost ten minutes of continuous screaming. It has to be better than getting spanked with that paddle, she thought. “Yes, please Master; please…please… fuck me now.”

The man stroked her flanks, as if she was a nervous racehorse. “Nice and high, now”, he said soothingly. He adjusted her hips, and then opened her sex lips with his fingers. “Are you sure, Tara?” he teased. “Do you know what you want? Suppose you tell me.”

Tara realized that she did want him to take her, that she wanted his cock inside her as badly as she had ever wanted anything. “Please Master; please do it…fuck me.”

The man placed the head of his erect organ against the outside of Tara’s labia, and rubbed it up and down a few times. She heaved her backside against him, gasping.

“Easy, now,” he said. “You let me run the show, and I’ll make sure you have a good time. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, Tara” he warned, as he slowly pushed his fat shaft into her. “How does that feel so far?” he asked. “Not too bad, I hope.”

His cock felt enormous to her, although admittedly she only had one other to compare with it. “It’s…it’s good,” she said. “Very good.”

“Tell me about your boyfriend, Tara,” the man said as he drove deeper into the velvety sleeve that clutched at him so delightfully.

Tara was finding it hard to keep up her part of the conversation. “Umm…we met in high school…we were steadies…oooh…”

“Go on,” he said encouragingly.

“We were engaged …ah, god!... please... can you go a little deeper …yes, like that!” she exclaimed as he buried his entire length in her slot. She worked her pelvis spasmodically from side to side, then tried to pump him with her hips. Evidently, this did not square with his plans. Since he was on top, and moreover was both bigger and considerably stronger than Tara, he easily frustrated her attempt to step up the tempo of the action. She groaned softly in frustration.

“Don’t try to take over, Tara,” he said. “Just let me handle it. Now, you were telling me about your boyfriend. Please go on.” He hit her left buttock with the riding crop.

“Oww!” Tara exclaimed. She wondered briefly where he had stashed it, then said, “We…it didn’t work out…, ahh! Please don’t!” she cried when the leather rod left a welt on her other cheek.

As if this was some sort of signal, he began at last to move his hips again, drawing his cock back, then driving into her hard enough to make her dig her nails into the palms of her hands and cry out in ecstasy.

“Tell me about your sex life,” the man demanded, now pumping her with increasing depth and frequency, and driving Tara to distraction. She could feel the approach of another climax, and this one, she felt sure, was going would be to the first as a wet firecracker compared with a supernova. He enforced the pace with rhythmic strokes of the crop, as if he was a jockey booting her down the lane at Churchill Downs.

She moved as the crop and his body wished, surrendering herself to his stronger will, and the orgasm built up with each stroke of cock and crop.

“We …did it twice…oh Master, harder…he didn’t…it wasn’t good,” she panted.

Incongruously, the day Sean told her it was over between them flashed through her brain. “Tara, it’s just not working out. We’re not compatible in bed. You feel it too, don’t you?” She remembered how long it took her to get over the breakup. She never really did, she supposed. Her love life went from unsatisfying before the split to nonexistent afterward.

The man suddenly increased the pace, flailing her with the leather stick and fucking her furiously to bring her back to the present.

“Why didn’t it work?” He demanded. “What was the problem?”

“He …said I…ohh! Fuck! I was a d-dead fish…harder, goddamn you...frigid in bed…oh Master, I’m coming! Fuck!” she shrieked, as the world went away to be replaced by an all-consuming explosion of physical pleasure. Tara bucked wildly, mindlessly on him, for the moment reduced to a simple vessel of pure sensation.

“Harder, now!” he ordered, digging his fingers deep into the soft flesh of her hips, whacking her flank with every thrust of his cock and resembling a jockey urging his steed home down the backstretch. Tara moaned in wordless passion, meeting his every down- thrust with an equally violent upward motion. When he came she barely noticed how his rod pulsed as it shot his hot seed deep inside her.

After the last spasm of pleasure, the man draped himself over her heaving back, with his cock still buried in her pussy. Although the air was cool, the man’s body, like Tara’s, was slick with perspiration, and he panted for air as least as hard as she. He stroked her hair and said, “Good girl.”.

Tara turned her head, trying to reach his lips with hers. “Please, Master, let me…”

He obligingly extended his neck until she was able to lick his sweating face, and shower him with kisses. She could feel his cock hardening again inside her.

“That’s enough for now,” he said, withdrawing from her. Soon, the familiar black bag slid over Tara’s head and once more she slid into oblivion.