Page 71 of S is for…

He retrieved two padded cuffs, buckling them around her wrists.Then he lifted the top half of the stocks cross piece, and motioned in a silent command.

Diann rested her neck in the center semicircular cutout, shivering at the feeling of the cold vinyl fabric.Then she placed her wrists in the other cut-outs, careful to put the cuffs directly into the curve.She figured he was using the cuffs as a way to shrink the opening.

“No.That might accidentally cut off circulation to your hands.”Master Morton repositioned her arms himself, the cuffs pushed up against the heel of her hand, her bare wrists resting on the vinyl lining.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

Then the cross piece lowered down.She could see it out of the corner of her eye, and Diann had to take steadying breaths.The whole thing thumped, a vibration traveling through the wood, as the top fell into place.

“Try to take your hands out.”

With the stocks closed, the cuffs were on the hand-side of the opening, and the added bulk around her wrists made it so she couldn’t pull her hands free.

Diann took deep breaths, letting herself settle into the inescapable bondage.Her hands and head were trapped, but the rest of her was free to move around.The height of the stocks forced her to bend forward, but not a huge amount.She could stand like this for far longer than if the stocks were lower, her body bent at a ninety-degree angle.

The dichotomy of freedom of movement, and ultimate restriction, triggered a primal fear that she had to breathe through.Master Morton touched her fingers, gently cupping her hand.She carefully twisted to look at him.

“Don’t forget you have these.”He tapped the yellow ball in her right hand.

She nodded.She wished she could talk to him.Maybe tell him that some distant ancestor of hers must have ended up in the stocks in the village square, resulting in some hereditary memory-induced fear.She wanted to share that silly thought as an entrée to explaining the little prickles of fear.

The fact that she couldn’t tell him hurt, and she ground her teeth together.

The sound of him taking something off the wall had her looking around, but of course she couldn’t see him.She tensed, waiting to feel the first strike against her ass, but instead he came around to show her what he held.

The strap was about fifteen inches, and made of a dark brown-black leather with tan stitching.It had the classic strap shape—straight with a rounded tip and concave curves at the handle end.It didn’t look as stiff as a proper Irish School Strap—when he held it horizontally, the tip dropped several inches.That meant it was probably only two layers of leather rather than three or four.It could also mean that the leather was softer.There was no denying this would hurt, but it wasn’t such a dangerous piece of equipment that Diann was genuinely worried.

Not that being worried would cause her to call a stop to the scene.Her kink ran too deep for that.

“The way it’s listed on the checklist is ‘strapping, full body beating.’”

Diann nodded in acknowledgment of his words, again frustrated she couldn’t talk.

“In this case I’m going to say full body consists of ass, thighs front and back, calves.Someone suggested also including your breasts.”

Ass and palms were the traditional spots, but the idea of him taking a strap to her breasts had Diann’s pussy pulsing.

“I won’t do that.I’d prefer that any marks I leave on your breasts are from ropes, or teeth, not a strap.”

Any second now, the strapping would start.Except Master Morton didn’t move.He turned the strap in his hand, examining it in a pensive way.

“You can’t slap me, because you are in the stocks,” he said softly, and she remember that she’d promised him she’d slap him the way she hadn’t slapped Peter if needed.

She opened her mouth to say something—after all, she was about to get a strapping, so it wasn’t like staying silent would prevent a punishment.But he’d ordered her to be silent, and her submission choked off her words.

“You have permission to speak,” he said, and she wondered if he’d guessed she had something to say, or could read it in her expression.

“If needed, I’ll deliver a good verbal slap, Master Morton.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“At least until we’re out of the scene.Maybe I’ll pop out from behind a car in the parking lot and deliver a surprise slap.”

He laughed, bending slightly so they could see each other without Diann having to strain and jam the back of her head against the wood when she tried to look up.

“I have spent way too much time in that parking lot recently,” he said cryptically.

Then his fingers brushed her cheek before pressing to her lips, a silent indication that her permission to speak was revoked.

---