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Suspended & Whipped

By Robyn Jones

Here is a short story based on some wonderful photographs taken by a prolific French spanking photographer, called Red Charls. I’m not at all sure if I would want to be spanked or whipped in such a position, particularly as all your blood would go to your head…let alone the dangers of falling on said head! However, it is a position Red Charls often employs with his apparently willing models, so who am I to comment?! Anyway, here is a short story I wrote using some of his photographs for inspiration.

Asa wrote to him about a year ago, asking if he could use his photographs, (not easy, because Asa speaks no French, and used an on line translator!) but whatever he wrote, worked, because he said YES!

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The young lady in question was called Céline. If you saw her out and about in Paris, you would have seen a very elegant, sophisticated looking woman in her mid-30s, dressed impeccably. Céline appeared to be a very confident young lady and managed a very successful fashion clothing business. Her employees respected her, but she could be ruthless and did not tolerate slackers or fools gladly. Despite her good looks, Céline was single. She had never felt the need for another person in her life, although she had numerous short affairs with both men and women.

All seemed to be well with her life. However, beneath her confident, self-assured persona, lurked a young lady who sometimes struggled to contain the tensions created by the stresses and responsibilities involved in running her business affairs.

It wasn’t until she was 30 years of age that she finally found a way of relieving her tensions, a way in which few people could have guessed. Once a fortnight she visited an older man who provided a special form of therapy for successful business women like Céline. These visits enabled her, at least for a short time, to abdicate all responsibilities and submit herself to the control of another. She had found that his therapy rapidly breached the dam which bottled-up her tensions, so that by the end of each session she felt totally relaxed and calm, ready to face the World head on again.
Céline’s therapist went under the name of ‘Monsieur Charls’, a man in his early 50s. He was very professional in how he conducted himself with clients and Celine had rapidly felt safe in his company, knowing that he would never take unsolicited advantage of her.

Charls’ form of therapy was quite simple. He dispensed a spanking service carefully tailored to the needs of his female clients. Some sought him out to relieve feelings of guilt about horrid things they may have done to others. Some used his services to help relieve the tensions created by modern life, whilst others got a sexual kick from having their bottoms well-spanked by a man old enough to be their father. In Céline case, spanking primarily gave her a release from the tensions created by her work, although she rapidly discovered that she gained a lot of sexual satisfaction from the process.
Céline always looked forward to her fortnightly visits and was often surprised by Charls’ ingenuity in dispensing what she needed. No one session was quite the same as another, so that she was always left guessing what he might do with her on her next visit.

Let’s join Céline on one of her Friday evening visits to Charls after she had finished work. She left her office at 6.00 and caught the Metro to visit Charls in his large private apartment in the Quartier Latin, an area in the 5th and the 6th arrondissements of Paris, situated on the left bank of the Seine near the centre of the city.

As she arrived outside Charls apartment and rang the bell, the door was soon answered by a tall distinguished looking man.

“Bon soir, Mademoiselle Céline. Do come in. Let me take your coat,” he said, smiling at her.

“Bon soir, Charls. Merci,” replied Céline, divesting herself of her long coat to reveal a stylish, figure-hugging black pencil skirt and short-sleeved black T-shirt. To complete her ‘black ensemble’, she wore black high-heeled leather boots and black stockings.

“Would you like an aperitif before we start your session, Mademoiselle – a Martini perhap?” Charls enquired.

“Non merci, Charls, although perhaps one would be nice after the session?”

“Of course. Whatever you wish, mon cherie. In which case, let’s get started. Please follow me to the foot of the stairs and then remove your skirt,” Charls said, ushering her further down the hallway towards the stairs that wound up into the rest of his apartment.

Céline complied, a feeling of curious anticipation and excitement rising within her breast. She quickly removed her dress and stood there in her black t-shirt, black silk French knickers, black stockings and leather boots, awaiting further instructions.

“Eh bien. Now please remove your knickers as well, Mademoiselle. We don’t wish to spoil them, do we.”

Without any obvious hint of embarrassment, Céline slowly removed her silken undergarment and placed it on a stand next to the stairs. Charls stood whilst she prepared, enjoying the sight of this now semi-naked young lady and smelling the expensive subtle perfume she was wearing.

“This evening, I thought I would introduce you to a new method of restraint for your session. I propose to suspend you by your ankles from the upstairs bannister. How does that sound?”

Céline looked slightly taken aback, “Well….ummm…it sounds rather alarming!”

“There’s no need to be concerned, my dear. You’ll be perfectly safe. The rope that I will use to suspend you is very strong. Look here, let me show you,” Charls said, pulling a thick rope into view to which was attached a circular steel ring from which two stout leather straps hung on short chains.

Céline carefully examined the apparatus. “It certainly looks strong enough, but how will you be able to hoist me up?”

“Oh, that’s simple. The rope is attached to a pulley up there, so once I’ve placed these straps around your ankles, I can easily pull you up into a suitable position.”

“Oh! Well, if you are sure it’s safe, then I’m happy to try it, if that is what you wish,” replied Céline, now eager to start her session. Charls was always full of surprises, which she usually found rather very arousing!

“Bon! In that case, sit down on the staircase whilst I attach the straps to your ankles.”

Charls carefully attached the straps and then started to haul Céline up until she was dangling helplessly from the end of the rope, her hands only just managing to reach one of the stairs. In the process of being hauled up, her t-shirt slowly slid down over her back and head to reveal her pert breasts and her full, well-rounded buttocks.

It felt very strange to be so inverted, dangling helplessly in the air, with her bottom and breasts totally naked. With her head covered by her black T-shirt, she was unable to see anything, but her other senses were fully functioning. She could hear Monsieur Charls coming slowly up the stairs towards her. Which of his many implements would he use on her?

As Charls stepped up close to Céline, he used his right hand to caress her lovely soft cheeks. He could hear her emit a sigh of contentment. His fingers traced the outline of her buttocks as they curved in between her thighs. He ran a finger gently down the deep crevice that divided them. His touch sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, although she knew that in a moment his attentions would become far from gentle. Now she was suspended upside down there was very little she could do to stop him doing whatever he chose to do. There was no escape. Yet she knew from previous experience that, after the initial shock, she would welcome his harsh therapy. This is what she needed to release the tensions of the last few weeks. She could also feel the moisture from her growing sexual arousal which also needed release.

Sensing that Céline was ready, he placed his left arm across the front of her naked body to steady himself, his hand brushing against her breasts. She felt her nipples grow erect. Then, with his right hand, he started to slap her cheeks alternately. At first his smacks were fairly gentle, accustoming her flesh to the feel of his hand. In response her twin globes started to develop a delicate pink hue. As the pinkness developed, his hand started to crack down harder and harder, so that her flesh started to ripple in response. Each smack was accompanied by little yelps and cries of pleasure.

SMACK! SPANK! SMACK!

Her buttocks began to take on a hotter, redder colour as the initial spanking built steadily to a crescendo.

SMACK! SPANK! SMACK!

Céline’s buttocks wobbled and quivered under the onslaught, the warmth generated by his punishing hand gradually spreading towards her loins, her pussy becoming wetter by the minute, moisture trickling slowly down across her stomach.

SMACK! SPANK! SMACK!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Finally, he stood back to admire her fleshy rotundities, satisfied that her bottom had been well-prepared for the next stage of her therapy.

He picked up a short leather strap attached to a wooden handle and started to wallop her bottom with a series of downward strokes aimed at the undercurves of her cheeks.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The strap produced a searing sting that had Céline’s whole body wriggling and writhing in an attempt to escape the steady barrage of pain. However, there was little that she could do dangling upside from the rope to avoid the strap.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Céline started to cry out more loudly as the strap relentlessly visited each bouncing cheek in turn….’’YieeeeeHHHH! Arghhh! YeowwHH! Mon dieu!”
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

After a while Charls ceased strapping her now well-heated buttocks. Her cheeks involuntarily twitched as if trying to shake off the burning sensations that ran through her flesh. Her breathing was laboured, but she still craved for more.

“Please, Monsieur, please don’t stop. Whip me as hard as you can. Please whip my bottom and even whip my back if you so desire. I beg you,” Celine cried out, almost in desperation to reach a higher place.

“Of course, Mademoiselle. If that is what you wish for, then that is what I shall do!” replied Charls. So saying, he picked up a long-tailed martinet flogger and started to vigorously lash her buttocks and upper back, leaving a series of criss-cross red welts across her already reddened skin.

Céline shrieked out, howling with pain, tears running down her cheeks, but not once did she beg Charls to stop. She had never felt so alive in her life. She embraced the pain and willed Charls to continue….to continue until she finally achieved the sexual release she needed so badly.

Occasionally the falls of the martinet bit cruelly between her legs. Her hands shot back momentarily to protect herself, but he kept whipping her, directing his strokes to fall across her back, until her hands fell back down again.

Charls sensed that she was nearing her orgasm and exchanged the martinet for a single-tailed whip, deliberately targeting her lower buttocks near her ‘sweet-spot’ where her buttocks met her thighs.

SWISSHHH! CRACK!!!
SWISSHHH! CRACK!!!
SWISSHHH! CRACK!!!

It only took six sizzling strokes to finally bring Céline’s arousal to a head and she let out a long, loud howl of ecstasy as she experienced a mind-shattering orgasm. Céline wept from the sheer joy of her release. She no longer held any tension within herself. She felt free.

Charls left Céline to dangle from the rope for a few minutes to savour her ‘therapy’. The skin on her buttocks was inflamed, bright red and hot, burning and tingling beautifully. She absorbed the sensations, relishing the feel.

After a while, Charls slowly lowered Céline to the ground and undid her ankle straps. He then gathered her up in his arms and carried her into his drawing room to recover, placing a large glass of Martini by her side. Her eyes glistened with joy. She was now fully recharged to face the World outside until her next session with

Charls poured himself a drink and raised his glass to Céline, “Santé, Mademoiselle.”

Céline smiled back at Charls, “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur. That was ‘incroyable’! You are a true ‘artiste’ with the whip. I shall sleep very contentedly tonight.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Mademoiselle. It is I who should thank you for providing me with such a lovely and, dare I say, ravishing ‘canvas’ on which to practice my work!”

“In that case we are both very satisfied. Let’s raise a glass to our next session!” replied Céline.