blistered lips

She has placed you over a kitchen stool so that your ass sticks up above it’s red vinyl seat, and then tied your wrists to your ankles with leather straps. She was neither gentle or rough, rather matter of fact about it. You are wondering whether you should tell her that you feel you might slide off the smoothness of the leather, looking up through the swatch of bangs over your eyes, when you see her taking a rolled length of leather strapping from the countertop.

She notices and smiles down at you. "Don’t worry," she says as she bends down in front of you and begins winding the thin leather around the length of your legs and arms, "you’re not going anywhere."

After she’s secured the binding at your ankles and top top of your thighs,  she cups your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. She smiles, running her thumb across your lips. "You’re very vulnerable now, aren’t you?" It’s a rhetorical question, so you just suck in your lips, pulling them between your teeth and slowly nod. No need for words; you both know who is running this show.

Her other hand trails upward over your taut bicep, then along your shoulder blade and down the length of your back until, teetering forward on her heels, she’s clasped your left buttock. She squeezes, the thin edges of her nails digging pressing into the rounded flesh. "I want your ass." The thumb pushes into your pressed lips, breeching the seal you’d made, and into your mouth. Reflexively, you start sucking on it. This seems to please her. She tips her head, pressing her forehead to yours. "Oh, yes," she murmers, "Yes, indeed. I am going to have that ass."

Flipping the top of a container of baby oil, she continues, "What did I catch you doing without permission today, hmmm?

"I touched myself, Dear Mistress.  But I am sorry and won’t do it again.  I promise."

"Try again.  That’s not the correct answer."  She is drizzling the oil into the palm of her hand, looking at you expectantly.

"Ummm …"

"Well?"

"Ummm, I was masturbating?"

"You were spanking your monkey.  That’s what you were doing — spanking your monkey without permission.  So what do you think that means?"

Cradling the palmed oil, she walks back over to you.  "I’m going to enjoy this, you know," she says, and you feel her rubbing the baby oil into the cheeks of your ass.  Her touch is soft and warm, almost a tender caress.  But you know the gentleness will not last.  Again she walks away, as you watch her heels tapping the marble floor.  Suddenly she turns around; the look on her face has changed, is fierce and determined.

"What happens to bad little boys who spank their monkeys?  Tell me."

"Ummm, I’m not sure, Dear Mistress.  But I said I’d be good from now on.  Could I maybe have another chance?

"No, there are no second chances.  And you know that.  Stop your bargaining and stop playing dumb.  Now I am going to ask you once again, and if you don’t answer properly, then this will be twice as bad for you.  Now, What happens to bad little boys who spank their monkeys?"

Your cheeks clench in anticipation.  You can how smell the baby oil, its smooth, innocently sweet scent juxtaposed against what you know is about to happen.  Mistress is tapping her foot, her full mauve lips slightly apart, her emerald eyes blazing.  She is eager now.  There will be no reprieve.

"Dear Mistress," you say sheepishly, "bad little boys who spank their monkeys get their bottoms spanked; they get their bottoms spanked very hard by their Dear Mistress.

She smiles, walks towards you and raises her hand.

 

 

“Kerrie Marie, come in here right now.”

You shift in your chair at the kitchen table, staring at the book in front of you. Dee Dee is pissed. And when Dee Dee is angry, she spanks. She spanks hard. You know first hand, because you’ve felt the wrath of her open palm and more than a few of her many implements more than once. And Dee Dee is very angry at Kerrie Marie.

“You might as well take your medicine and get it over with,” Dee Dee continues, “because if you don’t, I will spank you twice as hard.”

Although Kerrie Marie is just in the next room –both you and Dee Dee can hear her soft wimpering– Dee Dee doesn’t go after her. Instead she opens the Naughty Closet as she continues to talk in that subdued tone. Out of the corner of your eye you watch her eyeing the various implements hidden there.

“I think your disobedience today requires a rather special sort of punishment, Kerrie Marie.”

Because the cupboard’s open door blocks your view and you don’t dare act interested, you cannot see what Dee Dee is holding, but you do see the look on her face. The way she bites at the corner of her mouth, the hint of a grin playing around it’s edges: Dee Dee has a new toy and she is going to relish using it on Kerrie Marie’s tight little tush.

“There you are, little one.”

Kerrie Marie is standing at the kitchen doorway, hands behind her back, eyes downcast. Her small breasts, held by the purple spandex of the tank top Dee Dee chose for her this morning, are quivering. Dee Dee has turned from the Naughty Closet and is holding a long, thin wirey thing. She wiggles it and you see that it is actually three-pronged. She smiles at Kerrie Marie.

“Are you ready to take your medicine like a big girl?”

“Yes, Miss Dee Dee. I will take my medicine.”

“Do you see what I have?”

Dee Dee swipes the air with her new toy and it makes a crisp swishing sound. Kerrie Marie’s eyes visibly widen, her long lashes fluttering. She takes in a deep breath, but it catches in her throat, making a sound like swallowed sob.

“Yes,” Dee Dee smiles, “this certainly is a nice addition to the Naughty Closet.”  She looks at you.   “Don’t you think so?”

You swallow and answer, “Yes, Miss Dee Dee.” She winks then turns to Kerrie Marie. Before you can consider the meaning of that wink, Dee Dee is pointing to the counter stool. “Position yourself,” she tells Kerrie Marie.  A silent tear, like ice melting ice on a window pane, slowly trickles down Kerrie Marie’s left cheek as she stands in front of the stool and begins to bend over.

Dee Dee grabs her arm. “Wait,” she says and turns to you with a wicked smile on her face. You feel yourself blushing under her scrutiny. “What do you think,” she continues, “panties up or panties down?” You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Head cocked, Dee Dee continues to look at you pointedly. You know you have to say something.

“Down, I guess,” you say sheepishly.

“I thought so.”

She is smirking as she turns back to Kerrie Marie.

“Get to my room, now!”

Martin, hanging his head with the embarrassment of being caught, bent down to reach for his jeans.

“Oh no you don’t!  Just leave them there.”

Turning, he started hobbling in the direction of Tandy’s bedroom, pants around his ankles. Behind him, he could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she followed.

“Now you tell me, little man,” she continued as they preceded down the narrow hallway, “just what you think you were doing in that bathroom. I have warned you, time and again, about touching yourself without permission.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Tandy, I promise I won’t do it again.”

As he turned into Tandy’s bedroom, he could see that the new wooden hairbrush and well-used riding crop were already placed in the center of the bed.

“You know what to do. Get in there.”

He shuffled over to the bed as best he could, then stood with his hands to his side as Tandy moved around him to sit on the edge of the bed, her red skirt riding up to stretch taut across the top of her thighs. He couldn’t help himself. At the sight of her perfect legs, the womanly spoon of her lap, he felt his prick swelling. Tandy noticed and laughed, slowly moving her head head back and forth.

“Don’t even think about it, Martin. Here, put this on, because I am not touching that thing.”

She handed him a thick rubber band, pointedly looking away from his groin area. As he started winding and rewinding it around the base of his cock, Tandy ran her hands across her lap a few times and shifted on the mattress, as if preparing herself.  “I’m so disgusted with you, I might make you wear that rubberband to the restaurant later,” she said, tossing her long blonde hair.  He knew he was going to get spanked and that he was not going to cum.

“Three spankings for you today, Martin, three! One with the hand, one with the rod, and one with the brush. Now get over my lap.”

The rubber band tightly in place, Martin complied, his rigid but useless organ sliding between the softness of Tandy’s thighs.

Tandy rubbed his bottom and cooed, “Such a tender little bottom.  Why, oh, why can’t you behave?”

Staring at the carpet beneath him, hearing her deep intake of breath, feeling her body tense and flex as she raised her arm, he braced himself.

“Have you been a bad boy?”

“Yes, Miss Tandy, I have been a bad boy.”

Then the sharp sting of her hand was upon him.