The Velvet Collar

by C. P. Mandara

  I was, but I was loathe to tell my husband that.

  "Not at all," I chirped. "Just anxious for the show to begin." Thankfully someone must have heard me, for the curtains finally began to rise. Hallelujah. For a moment everything went completely dark in the auditorium, and I jumped as I felt someone's hands brush against my shoulder. Were they Mark's? It didn't feel right, so I instantly moved forward to shake off whoever might be there. Then the lights came up on stage and I saw that Mark had his hands in his lap. Frowning, I turned my head around, but all I found were two empty seats behind me. There was no one close enough to have touched me. Maybe it had been Mark after all. How weird. I didn't get a chance to ask him about it because the lights then began darting all over the place and everyone's eyes were glued to the stage.

  When the moving spotlight finally came to a standstill it centred on a lone, naked girl, hunched up in a ball in the corner of the stage. She appeared to be shivering, but it couldn't have been because she was cold, as the auditorium was quite warm, and she would be even warmer under the bright spotlight. If I wasn't much mistaken, this girl was in trouble.

  A master then strode on stage carrying a large chest, which he placed by his feet. He did not look happy. I almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost. If she was about to get a spanking, I was going to be insanely jealous.

  When he thrust his arms out to the audience, all ears strained for what was to come next. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the punishment room. This is the place where we chastise naughty slaves for their misdeeds. These aren't your usual run-of-the-mill indiscretions, either. These are gross misconducts of duty that have resulted in complete violations of their contracts. Slave, state your name and sins for the audience." The order was barked out, and the girl's head shot up in fright. The poor thing was very uncomfortable in front of a large crowd, but I guessed that was the point.

  Looking out towards us she almost visibly cringed, but finally a very shaky voice managed, "My name is Filthy Slut, and my sins are many. I have been caught swearing and answering back. I have woken up late and forgotten to make master's breakfast not just once but several times. I have failed to follow instructions when out at our local munch. I have flirted with other men against master's strict instructions and the terms of my contract. I have been unrepentant when spanked, and I have been caught on camera climaxing without the permission of my master." She hung her head in shame, unable to go on.

  "Oh, you did more than flirt, didn't you, Filthy Slut? You did much more than flirt. Go on and tell the audience the real reason you're here." That sounded ominous, I thought.

  Almost quaking in my boots just listening to her recite that lot, I could hardly stand to hear any more. Oh lord. I hated to think what her punishment would be and hoped it wouldn't be more than I could bear to watch. Squirming in my seat, I waited, almost afraid of what she would say next.

  "Yes, Master Carlisle," she whispered, dragging her head back upright, tears now pouring down her face. There was a pronounced silence before she finally managed to mumble something. Of course, none of us could hear it.

  "Louder, slave." The command was barked out, and the girl's head jerked.

  "I had sex with one of your friends without your knowledge, and behind your back, Sir."

  Johanna's eyes flew to mine, as big as saucers, and she had her hand over her mouth in shock. I think we were both horrified at what she'd just revealed and scared witless for what might happen next.

  "I don't think I can watch," I whispered.

  "Me neither," she said aghast. Both Dominic and Mark then chose to give us a nudge, reminding us that we needed to be quiet.

  "Yes, slave. You had sex behind your master's back, and without his knowledge, or so you thought. Did you think that kind of behaviour would be tolerated?" Master Carlisle was pacing up and down the stage now, his anger was almost palpable. The audience had their eyes glued to the front, and everyone's attention was firmly on the girl who was once again cowering in the corner.

  "No, Sir," she whimpered, mewling harder when he took a handful of her dirty brown hair and yanked it painfully upright.

  "Damn right it isn't, Slave. I have a mind to give you away. Perhaps one of the audience members would like you? Let's see, shall we? Anyone out there who would like an unfaithful slave in their household? One that can't even follow simple instructions? Any takers? She's going free." He looked up, his face sweeping from right to left as he surveyed the crowd before him. No one said a word.

  "That's what I thought," he said, nodding his head. "No one wants an unfaithful, untrustworthy and lazy slave. The question is: what shall we do with you?" He looked at her with what could only be described as disgust. Tapping his finger against his cheek, he appeared to think about it.

  "Spank her," shouted one man from the audience, unable to wait any longer.

  "Whip her," shouted another, who apparently thought spanking too tame.

  "Tie her up and deny her any release for a month," said a lady on the front row, making me mightily glad I was not the poor girl in question.

  "Sensory deprivation for a week," said a gentleman from the back. After that the suggestions came thick and fast, and each was worse than the last. I hated to think what was going to happen to the girl, but whatever it was I had a feeling it was not going to be pleasant.

  When Master Carlisle had had enough of our suggestions he raised his hands in the air and let them drop several times over, indicating that he would like quiet. We obliged. I think half of us were anxious to see what would happen to her, and the other half were positively excited. In any case, silence reigned supreme as we waited to hear her fate.

  "Thank you for your ideas, ladies and gentlemen. It has certainly given me something to think about. I think I will spank my slave, while I consider all of my options. Could someone bring me a chair?"

  A wooden, high-backed chair was raced towards him from a stagehand in the wing, and he took his place upon it.

  "Slave," he said imperiously, "get your ass over my lap, now."

  The girl scuttled over to do his bidding, moving as fast as a whippet. She must have been in love with her master, else she wouldn't have agreed to do this, but I wondered if he'd take her back after tonight's proceedings. How many people could recover from that? Was it a risk she was willing to take? I guess she knew she'd made a mistake and was trying to make amends in the only way she knew how. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. However the evening panned out, she was doomed to suffer in some shape or form. Did she deserve it? It certainly seemed like it, but I was never one to judge until I'd heard the full story.

  The first slap of Master Carlisle's hand rang out loudly in the auditorium. There was a pronounced wobble of the girl's butt cheeks, so I knew he wasn't holding back, but she didn't make a sound.

  After that the spanks impacted with fury, and the poor girl's punishment began in earnest. For the first ten spanks or so the girl managed to maintain her position and poise, but after that she was wriggling all over the place, trying to escape the next wallop of her master's hand. I didn't blame her. Master Carlisle was giving it all he'd got, and we could clearly hear the sound of those spanks from where we were sitting, which meant they packed one hell of a punch. It only took another ten whacks before she was wailing, and quite honestly I didn't know how she managed to hold out that long. Her ass was already bright red, and the burn must have been pretty nasty by then. I felt sure she wouldn't have to endure many more, and sure enough, after a few more, her master stopped. You could have heard a pin drop in the auditorium, and everyone held their breath to see what would happen next.

  "Go and fetch the paddle, slave." Oh my. She was going to be paddled, on top of the spanking? I reached for Johanna's hand, only to find it wasn't there. She appeared to be very preoccupied with Dominic's hands between her legs.

  Mark's head bent down to whisper in my ear, "Feeling jealous?" Now normally I would be jealous of someone getting a spanking, but this was different.
This was punishment, and it wasn't tolerable pain. This was heading into unknown territory, and it scared me.

  "Hardly. He's going to fry her ass, and that's just the appetiser. I wouldn't want to be her for the world."

  "Not of the spanking, you idiot. Are you jealous of Johanna?" Mark pointed between my legs, to make sure I understood what he was saying.

  "Oh." My eyes sneaked back to Johanna, who was now almost slouching in her seat, in order to open her legs wider for Dominic's talented fingers. Her eyes were half-closed in pleasure, little sighs coming from her mouth, and she was completely unaware I was watching her. When my gaze drifted lower I saw glistening fluid all over Dominic's hands and a swollen clit that was lapping up all the attention. Was I jealous? Hell yes.

  "Yes. Very," I whispered.

  Master Carlisle had now got his slave to retrieve the paddle from his bag, and she was crawling back with it between her teeth. Positioning herself back over his legs without being asked, she once again assumed the position.

  "Well we can't have that, can we?" I only just heard the murmur of his voice, as the paddling had commenced. The loud thumps reverberated around my poor head, and I nearly jumped each time I heard one. When my husband positioned his hand between my legs I nearly yelped in surprise.

  "Shh. This will help you relax."

  Hah. Good luck with that, I thought. Unable to take my eyes off the slave girl, I didn't think anything was going to ease my discomfort at watching her suffering.

  Over and over the paddle crashed into her backside. This time she made no pretence at trying to remain still or quiet. She began howling almost as soon as he'd started, and her body wriggled so much Carlisle took a fistful of her hair in his hand to make sure she stayed where she was supposed to.

  "How much do you want to be a bad girl right now?" Mark's fingers were working their magic, checking if I was already wet, which should have been a foregone conclusion. Shove me in a kittykat outfit, and I'd cream my pants almost instantly. Anything else was just icing on the cake.

  "Not at all," I whispered fervently. And I meant it.

  "I'll remind you of that later, precious." Burying himself in my pussy, he amused himself by pumping in and out of me with long measured strokes. I bit my lip, trying my best to concentrate on what was unfolding in front of me, but the distraction of Mark's hand was intense.

  Meanwhile, up on stage the slave girl was pleading and begging forgiveness. Tears were dribbling down her cheeks, and her hair was a wet straggle around her face. Her ass was pillar-box red. Master Carlisle didn't pay her any attention. The paddle continued to come down with loud, regular smacks, and he did not appear to be in a merciful mood. When he finally finished and dropped the paddle on the floor with a derisive slash of his hand, my breath lodged in my throat. Surely this would be it? Surely she wouldn't be subjected to any more?

  "Time to get the whip, slave." His hand struck her ass again as she was struggling to get off him. The crazed look in Master Carlisle's eyes scared me because he looked like he'd barely begun, and I didn't think this was going to end well.

  The girl took her time getting the whip, and her movements were barely coordinated as she appeared to be swaying. I didn't know if it was from shock or pain, but she didn't seem to be in a good way.

  "Will she be okay?" I whispered.

  "Will she be okay or will they be okay?" Mark countered.

  "Either," I murmured.

  "Hard to tell. He's mad, and rightly so. If she doesn't take everything he has to give, I suspect the show will be over for both of them, so it will be interesting to see how this pans out." That gave me little comfort, but it was all I had, so I took it.

  My eyes were glued to the whip as it weaved across the floor. Could she really take another round of this? Her eyes looked unfocused and dazed, her limbs trembling, and I knew that if I were in her place I wouldn't be looking forward to what was to come next. When she handed the whip to Carlisle's waiting hand he didn't even look at her.

  "Face the wall, with your legs wide apart." It was another barked instruction, which was obeyed with faltering steps.

  "Hurry up, don't make me wait, filthy slut." His accent was a clipped English one, but it sounded false to my ears. Like the man was trying to cover something up. It was probably me. These days I was almost suspicious of my own shadow. My father and Kyle were mostly to blame for that.

  When the slave pressed her nose into the back of the stage wall a hush descended over everyone, and I swear I could hear the beating of my own heart as I waited for that whip to move. The first crack hit the air with some impressive acoustics, and the tail of the strap snapped back to surge forward, striking the poor girl's back. My head jerked at the sound, and Mark's fingers stilled on my clit as if he sensed I was upset.

  "Are you okay? We can get out of here." His other hand reached for mine, and he gripped it tightly.

  "No. I want to stay. I need to know what he's going to do to her." I needed to see this through.

  "Suit yourself, but it's not going to pretty. I hadn't realised quite what we were letting ourselves in for here." Mark's hand started up again, notching up my adrenaline levels, although I didn't really need much help in that area. This time when the whip cracked I didn't flinch, but the girl did, her hands curling into fists against the wall, but to her credit she remained still. Though I didn't have a lot of experience with a bullwhip I have felt it once or twice before, and I know it's not for the faint-hearted, so for the next few lashes I kept my eyes tightly shut, concentrating on the slow, rhythmic pulses of Mark's fingers. I could feel an orgasm building.

  "Are you close?" The murmured voice in my ear made me jump, but I quickly recovered.

  "Yes." I didn't even think of lying. My husband knew me too well, and there were always consequences for misbehaviour. Some consequences I enjoyed, others were less friendly, so it was wise to err on the side of caution.

  "Good. I'll slow things down for a moment until things get interesting."

  That made me pause. "Things aren't interesting yet?" I opened my eyes to see Mark's eyes centred on the stage, and I wondered what I'd been missing these last few minutes. A quick glance told me that things had progressed quite quickly since I last dared to open my eyes.

  The sound of the whip had stopped and Carlisle left the stage, but just as I thought the show was over he returned carrying a bag on his arm. It clinked and jangled as he walked, so I figured there was some kind of metal inside it. Restraints, maybe? What was he going to do to her now? I didn't think she could take much more, but I'd been wrong before.

  Carlisle took his time walking across the stage, and it gave me the opportunity to examine him a little more closely. Until now my focus had been mainly on the girl, but I soon found myself curious about the man behind her. He was dressed in something that vaguely resembled a lion tamer's outfit, except it was all in black with bright gold buttons, and he wore riding boots.

  Leaning forward in my chair, I noted he had sandy blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He'd covered the top half of his face with a mask, perhaps to add theatrical appeal, and this nearly completely obscured his eyes, but even still, there seemed something vaguely familiar about him. Something I didn't like.

  I wasn't going to dwell on it, though. Since the poisoning I'd been a little jumpy around people, and my psychiatrist had told me that was to be expected and that I would take a little time to heal. These days I seemed to see a bad guy around every corner, and though I would eventually convince myself I was just being silly, whenever I was around people I didn't know I had an irrational fear someone was out to hurt me. The doctor had convinced me it would pass eventually, and as Mark had a security detail around me whenever I went out, I was slowly beginning to feel a little more secure in my environment. Although it also drove me crazy.

  Forcibly settling back in my chair, I closed my eyes for a second and let Mark's fingers take over. I needed to relax, and there was no better way to do that than to let my h
usband work his magic.

  "You may be wondering what's in my bag, ladies and gentlemen." There was another jangle of sound, and my eyes reopened because curiosity won over relaxation.

  Carlisle was striding up and down the stage, ignoring the slave in the corner as he surveyed the audience with a slight smirk on his face. This did not bode well. He seemed to be enjoying himself way too much. "Anyone hazard a guess as to what's in here?" He gave the bag another shake for effect, and I squirmed in my seat. Mark's lips were now on my neck, his fingers buried so deep inside me it was getting rather difficult to concentrate, but I was too engrossed in the story unfolding to let myself give in to temptation.

  "I suspect most of you are thinking there are cuffs or chains inside my bag. It would be a good guess, but it would also be wrong. Besides, there would have to be a lot of them in order to fill this bag, and I only have one slave to punish, after all."

  He had a point. The black satchel he had over his arm was a large one and made of heavy duty plastic. Whatever was inside was heavy and bulky. All sorts of possibilities were running through my mind, but none of them seemed very likely. I did some more squirming as my imagination got carried away, which seemed to please Mark no end.

  Carlisle stopped walking and was in the centre of the stage. Opening the bag he used both hands to pull out a massive set of inter-connecting steel chains and straps. At first I had no clue what he was holding up, but after careful inspection I could see it was some kind of belt and bra. It didn't take me long to connect the dots.

  "It's a chastity suit, ladies and gentlemen. This suit here, once fastened and locked, will completely prevent my sub from touching all her most intimate parts. It will also, more importantly, prevent anyone else from touching her. No one will have access to her unless they have this." He held up a small silver key that was fastened on a chain, which he then placed around his neck. "I intend to keep her locked up in this suit for the next month at the very least, or until I believe she has adequately learned her lesson. Then I may let her out, occasionally, but I don't expect that to be more often than once every two weeks or so."