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How to begin, how to begin. To detail my happy life before the fates deigned to make me a sad old Dragon, before I again found a reason to live.
I first met her nine years ago, on my first trip overseas, to Malaysia. I had landed in Penang only two days before, and was wandering around one of the city’s many malls when I happened across a small bookstore. Going inside, I began to browse through the many Malay, Chinese, and a few western titles present in the overflowing shelves, and piled up on the floor, and this adorable, little Malay lass came up to me and asked in a very demure voice “Can I help?”
I smiled and with a slight glance towards her trim figure in the kimono-style silk shift she wore, shook my head. “Just looking, thank you.” She smiled back, and as clear as a bell, I recall the store lit up, like a shaft of sunlight flooded it.
I smiled at her as she turned away to help another customer, and continued my browsing. A few minutes later, I heard a slight scuffle, and as I poked my head around the corner, saw another customer push her roughly into a shelf, which toppled over, or would have had I not put my back and legs into stopping it, and eased it back into place, losing about two tiers of books onto me in the process.
By the time I had managed to disentangle myself, the abusive customer had rushed out, and the store owner was bustling all around, red in the face, snarling at her angrily as he waved his hands at my apparent condition and the pile of books all over the floor at my feet. As they were speaking Cantonese at normal speed, I had no chance of following the conversation, but she simply nodded, saying the Cantonese word for ‘yes’ every so often as he berated her verbally, then gave her a sharp smack on the ear and stormed back to his office, indicating for her to clean up the mess ‘she’ had created.
She looked at me, eyes glistening with tears, and bent to one knee to begin picking up the books. I felt bad about not saying anything, even though the whole incident had happened in less than a minute or so, so I knelt and helped her pick up some books, getting a grateful smile in return for my aid. We quickly cleaned up the mess, and I found a book I hadn’t seen before, a work by Arthur C. Clarke which to my amazement, had been signed by him. I still have that book on my shelf.
I went to the counter and paid for it, again getting a shy smile, and turned to leave when I heard a sharp exchange from the back office. My curiosity got the better of me, and I went to the partition and looked in. What I saw fascinated me and put me firmly in the realms of a spankophile for ever after.
Her Boss had obviously decided that a verbal growl wasn’t enough, so he felt that a physical punishment was in order. She was bent over a desk, her shift around her waist, and her underwear around her thighs, and he was wielding some kind of thin cane. As I watched, he lashed it down five times, very hard. Each one causing her to cry in protest, except she was obviously biting her tongue or something, because she only groaned loudly at each stroke. I could clearly see the welts rise on her backside at each lash of the thin cane. He laid the final stroke down, then quickly put the cane down and growled at her again. Obviously the signal for her to get up, and of course, in my haste to make myself scarce, I made some kind of noise and although he couldn’t see me, I heard her gasp, and knew she had spotted me.
She came out less than a minute later, saw me standing there, clutching my bag, and smiled, tears still leaking from her swollen eyes. She went behind the counter and picked up a bag, then walked past me and to the door. She walked through, then stopped and looked back at me. I didn’t move, and she indicated that she wanted me to follow. I obeyed, perplexed and aroused by what I had seen.
She led me to a small park, mostly empty at this late hour, and very gingerly sat on the grass. I sat down opposite her and we just looked at each other for a few minutes.
“You see what happen?” She asked finally, in a quiet voice.
I nodded. “Are you OK?”
She smiled. “I hurt, but I get better.”
“What is your name?” I asked her after another pause.
She blushed, but gave me her name, and I told her mine.
Over casino oyna the next hour, we talked about everything we could have, and by the end of that hour, both of us felt very comfortable around each other. But, it was getting dark, and this adorable 18-year old had to get home or her parents would be getting very worried. I walked her to the bus stop and watched her get on her bus with a promise to meet again the next day.
Over the next two weeks we became very good friends, and I finally went to her home to meet her family. They hated me, I could tell. Not in the way they acted around me, but in the way they looked at my love. The scathing looks she was given from her mother, the angry glares from her father and brother, and the spiteful and sneering glances from her sisters.
I decided at that meeting to take her away from them. I was in my youth then, looking for love, and I had found it. Being independently wealthy from a lottery win, I basically could do what I wanted to do, I didn’t have to rally to anyone else, and still don’t.
The next morning, about 3am, I was awoken by the phone ringing in my hotel room, and I answered it. The night clerk told me that a very upset young lady was downstairs and wanted to come up. I said no, I’d be right down. I slipped on a pair of pj’s and a robe, then went downstairs to find her standing in the lobby, in a voluminous leather bomber jacket I had given her. She looked tiny in the jacket, huddled against the outside world. And when I appeared, she flew to me, hugging me tightly and bursting into a flood of tears.
I managed to get her back to my room and calmed down before noticing two important things. She was only wearing a t-shirt under the jacket, and her backside was bleeding. It was no wonder she didn’t want to sit, as I made her lie on the bed on her belly, and removed the jacket to see her backside a mass of red and purple welts, with blood oozing from between a number of them.
I immediately opened my bag, pulled out two aspirin tablets, dissolved them in a glass of water, and made her drink it all. That seemed to calm her down and she stopped being quite so edgy. Which was in part due to the fact that she was half-naked and alone with me in my place for the first time.
I got the story out of her in fits and starts. Once I had left she had told her parents and family that she really liked me and wanted to see me again. She had been told by her father, No. Her mother had told her that she should not look to a foreigner such as me for her future husband. To marry within her own kind. She had said that she wanted to be with me, and that she didn’t like the boy they had chosen for her. And her father had flown into a rage.
She was stripped by her mother, her pants and underpants pulled from her, held down over the table, and caned by her father too many times to count. At the end of it, she had managed to pull free, grabbed my jacket, and fled into the night. She had walked for about five hours all the way from the suburbs into the heart of the city until she ended up in my hotel room.
I made a life decision there, and phoned a couple of people. Then I got her comfortable in the bed and managed to get her to fall asleep, while I slept in a chair that night.
The next morning, when she finally awoke, I had already been up for over an hour and she had some new clothes to put on, a nice dress and some very soft underpants that fit her snugly, but loosely enough not to hurt for a couple of hours at least.
We had room service bring breakfast, and although she ate daintily, I knew she was a lot hungrier than she let on, because she consumed everything I put in front of her.
After breakfast, we talked, right through lunch and until about 3pm we just talked. And she decided to accept my proposal and marry me. We had the ceremony that evening, at the Consulate where I signed the necessary papers to pave the way for her to gain citizenship in my chosen country. Being a multinational, I had three passports, including a very rare UN passport that theoretically enabled me to enter any UN country on it’s graces alone. I had nominated Australia as her country of citizenship, because one of my workplaces was there, and I liked the climate in Sydney.
That night, we consummated canlı casino our love in the traditional manner, but modified. She lay on her side and I was very careful not to touch her still-aching backside. As I already knew, she was a virgin, and I was not far from one, having only had one previous partner in my youth. The next morning, when we woke up, she looked in my eyes for a reaffirmation of love, and I responded in kind, to her immense gratification.
We were very happy for about two weeks after that, she healed with nothing but a very fine line of scars which faded over the next few months until they were lost from sight. But then we hit a small snag. We had been shopping all day, picking out clothing and other things, and I was very tired, having been up half the night negotiating a business deal with one of my Malay contacts. Although she knew this, she still insisted on us going out shopping until about 6pm the next day. I was dead tired by the end, and finally convinced her that we had to go back to the hotel so I could rest. Then she did the first of her naughty things. As we were leaving, she stopped to look in a window, and even as I was sighing, vanished inside the store.
That was the last straw, I felt a surge of adrenalin run through me as my fatigue was washed away in a storm of angry frustration, and I walked into the store where she was holding a dress to herself and looking in the mirror. I took her by the upper arm and pulled her outside. She started to protest, but stopped when I looked at her, and she realized that she had gone too far. We sat silently in the taxi back to the hotel, but I didn’t release her arm, just relaxed my grip. She kept glancing at me, but got nothing in return. Once back in my room, I pulled her around and pushed her onto the bed, where she bounced twice before ending up somewhere near the middle. She knelt on the bed looking at me as I angrily undid my shirt and tie, pulling them off and away and tossing them on a chair.
“I sorry, dear.” She said.
“No, you’re not.” I replied. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it. You knew I’d been up half the night discussing that deal with Yan. When I said I was tired, you should have chosen then to leave. I don’t mind if you go shopping alone, sweetheart. But if you’re with me, then I say when we are finished. Are we clear?”
She hung her head and nodded. “I understand, and sorry, husband.”
“Good.” I said as I pulled off my pants and put them with my shirt. “Now move over so I can lie down and get some sleep. You can do whatever you want, babe. I need to sleep.”
She shifted over and looked confused. “That is all? All you are going to do?”
I looked up at her, then rolled over onto my side, propping my head on my elbow. “What else is there, dear? You knew you’d done wrong, and you won’t do it again. End of discussion.”
She shook her head. “No. Not end. I – I bad girl, I naughty girl.”
“No you’re not, you’re just … shopping-happy.” I replied.
“No! I bad girl. You punish me.” She said, looking very confused and hurt.
I sat up. “You want me to punish you? What … beat you? Spank you?”
She nodded. “I not want, but I am bad girl. That is what happens to bad girl. She get spanked, then she good girl again.”
“If you don’t want me to hit you, dear. I’m not going to hit you. I don’t want to hurt you.” I said.
For an answer, she got off the bed and pulled off her clothes, then laid on the bed face down After a minute or so, she grabbed my hand and used it to slap her bottom twice. “Spank.” She said, with determination in her voice.
I raised my eyebrows, but then shrugged. This was what she was used to, from what I already knew. So ..why not? I knelt beside her and began to slap her bottom, hitting each cheek square, from the side, slapping both cheeks at once, hitting the under curve of her bottom, etc. I spanked her firmly, consistently, until my hand tingled and her bottom was showing a nice reddish hue beneath her café-o-lait skin.
She never cried; but it was obvious, once I laid back down and she wrapped herself around me that she wanted to be physically chastised for any infraction she was responsible for. We made love with a passion that night I had never felt before and for the kaçak casino first time, I fucked a woman in her ass. It was a very dominating feeling, one of intense possession. We both knew, as I slid into her back passage, that this symbolized her total relinquishment of ‘self’ as an individual, and a merging of our two lives into a single force. It was something akin to total trust – she gave herself to me totally, without fear, and trusted in me not to injure or cause her emotional pain.
The next morning, she examined her mottled backside in the floor-length mirror with much pursing of lips and shy smiles, but said nothing.
A few weeks later I finalized my business in Malaysia and had my next contract in India, so we packed our things and were soon on a plane to Bombay. Being her first flight on a plane, and her first trip out of her home country, she was very nervous, but I managed to keep her calm through the plane’s roll out and liftoff, even though she gripped my hand so tightly her nails punctured my skin and left small crescent-shaped blood marks.
Once in the air, she calmed down again, as she got used to the solidity of the airplane, and even ventured to look out the window at the country rapidly passing beneath the wing.
Sitting in First Class, we were treated very nicely by the aircrew, and after the first meal, the lights were dimmed and we prepared for sleep. Pushing the armrest out of the way, I pulled my darling wife to me and wrapped both of us in one of the airline blankets, with my head on a pillow, her curled in my lap with her head on my chest, we both fell asleep quite easily.
Bombay was a hole. Dirty, filthy, full of begging poor and covered in dirt and decay. I disliked being there even for the three short weeks required, but my wife hated the place, and refused to leave our hotel suite for any reason. I didn’t blame her. As soon as my business was finished, we went to my next contact location, Saudi Arabia. I had a five week stint working with the mainframe systems at an oil refinery.
Saudi Arabia was a scary place. With tensions still high after the Gulf War, we were cautious and I was overly protective of my Asian bride. Asian women were treated as slaves by most Saudis, and they looked upon my wife as not much more than a servant herself, despite my actions towards her.
I recall one function we went to, where I was meeting with some of the important investors of the refinery and their wives. As soon as we entered, the entire mood changed. My wife was dressed in a perfect off-the-shoulder satin gown set with hundreds of brilliant Onyx stones, setting off it’s deep navy blue with their mirror-bright blackness. Unfortunately, none of the other wives had a dress as ‘stylish’ even though most of them were drenched in jewelry and gemstones.
The dinner went smoothly, but some of the other wives went out of their way to embarrass or humiliate my wife, much to my disapproval, but their husbands’ amusement. The worst thing was when one of the Saudi women called in her servant, who turned out to be a Malay girl. In front of the assembled guests, she spoke sharply to the girl about some slight, then spun her around and struck the poor girl’s back and buttocks several times with her husband’s walking stick, causing the girl to fall to her knees in pain and tears.
I can still remember her comment towards everybody, but directed towards my wife in particular…
“This one knows her place, on her knees when in the presence of her betters.”
We left very quickly after that incident, as politely as I could, but ensuring my host knew my disapproval. I refused all future invitations, finished my work, and we left Saudi Arabia two weeks after that. I never returned there, even though some of the offered contract work was very overpriced for my services.
Then disaster struck, and my life as I knew it ended. In a fiery crash on the side of a lonely highway, in a crash of crumpled metal and burnt rubber, she was gone, and I was physically unhurt. Emotionally, I was a total wreck. I left Malaysia, barely aware of what I was doing, and went to Australia, to be with my family. It took another three years for me to recover and begin noticing other people and I fell in love again, and married again. She doesn’t share my passion for discipline, and so I don’t practice it any longer, but I have my memories, and perhaps that is best, memories can prove to be the strongest aphrodisiac of all, if treated properly.
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