"Take down your knickers, please."
I look down into his face. It is all serious. "OK," I say softly.
My uniform is a royal blue with a white starched collar and a white apron. I look like a 1950's waitress. I have on white Keds tennis shoes with cotton roll-down socks. Not exactly pretty. I hook my thumbs into my cotton underwear and pull without raising my skirt. The underwear falls in a heap at my feet.
I don't remember what happened next, but in one swift move, I am now face down over his knees, my head resting in the crook of his left elbow, my legs splayed out over the end of the bed. My arms lay stiffly at my side. I raise them and hang onto his arm. I can smell his cologne seeping through his shirt, a mixture of his own smell and a spicy scent- a pleasant smell, for another time maybe. Guiltily, I think about the number of times I had gone into his closet when he wasn't there, sticking my nose into his shirts and breathing in the musky aroma. I suck in, letting the smell calm my shaking nerves.
Then I feel him pull up my skirt, gently, taking care not to touch my skin. I can't see his face, but the knowledge that he is able to see my naked backside, makes my face burn. I clutch his arm tighter and squeeze my eyes tight. I can feel his eyes perusing my ass, and I feel my pussy grow hot and wet. I want him to do something- touch me, rub me, spank me- anything. But he just sits there for a moment, his green eyes burning my skin.
This is his punishment. This is his control.
"Now I am going to give you twenty-five licks. OK?"
The first few swats go by slowly. Mr. Rhodes is taking his time. I am almost enjoying this; a slow burn spreads across my ass. I feel a throbbing in my pussy. But the blows stay consistently firm. He's not counting, but I am -- just in case, he's not. By ten, the warm pleasant feeling is starting to fade. I start to squirm. By fifteen, I am starting to get over this fantasy. I move my hand down to cover my flaming butt cheeks.
"Oh no, Kelly. Be still."
He grabs my other arm and gently holds them together in the small of my back. I try to twist out of his grip. Number sixteen is a really hard smack.
"Be still, or I start over again at one."
I hate this, because now my face is pressed into the bed with his hand grasping my wrists and his elbow pushing into my back. Tears start to spill down my cheeks. I am crying now. Certainly, he can see that he is hurting me. As soon as I know that I can take it no longer, he stops. He waits a moment and then rubs the afflicted area that he just spanked.
Now I am embarrassed. I can't stop crying; it all just pours out. He gathers me in his arms, flipping me over, and I sit off his lap, with my legs lying over his. I instinctively grab his neck and bury my face into his shirt collar. That's another thing about Nick Rhodes- he has marvelously massive shoulders. I cling to him, while he makes low shushing sounds, his arms wrapped around me. He doesn't say anything though. Minutes pass. My tears have stopped, and I am now listening carefully to the thump of his heartbeat through his shirt. What had been my anger just moments ago, has turned into something else, and I have forgiven his behavior in my supreme lust for him.
I can see a brown beauty mark peeking out of his shirt and I involuntary rub the spot with my finger. He looks down into my face, and, leaning me back into his arm, he kisses the wet spots on my face. First, my forehead, then a cheek, my nose. His lips are warm and soft, and I can feel his sweet hot breath against my skin. I close my eyes, and he gently kisses my lips, and then draws back to look at me. I can feel him looking at me, but I don't want to open my eyes.
"Kiss me again," I whisper.
And he does. Forcefully. I am melting. No, I am dying in his arms. His tongue darts into my mouth to lick playfully against my teeth before pulling back. His mouth is sweet, thick, male- exactly like what I think that he would taste like. I can feel a brush of stubble on his chin, the roughness contrasting with the smooth pressure of his lips.
His hand is resting on my neck as he kisses me, and although I am lost in the thrusting motion of his insistent tongue, his fingertips have my neck on fire. His fingers lightly drop lower, and I can feel them graze the top of my uniform. I know where he is going, and I wait, tensely in anticipation, trying to appear nonchalant and focus on his lips. His fingers graze the fabric of my bra and my nipples are already hard in anticipation. He flits back and forth over the hard bud, and then pinches the upper most nipple. This is more than I can take. I moan in his mouth, drawing my hand up to cover his, but he won't let go. Instead, I move my hand, rubbing through the fabric of his shirt. I can feel his own nipple hardened and I pinch back.
He draws back abruptly. "Take your clothes off," he commands, leisurely leaning back on both arms to allow me to get up.
I stand up and shrug out of my tennies and socks. I begin slowly unbuttoning my uniform, keeping my eyes trained on Mr. Rhodes. Nick. His gaze is smoldering. The one piece uniform drops quietly to the floor. I quickly undo my bra and just let it fall. I am naked, but instead of rushing to the bed, I stand there with my shoulders back, hands on my hips, in the sauciest pose I can muster. His eyes take me in, slowly licking my breasts, down my stomach... down there. I am glad I shaved today. OK, I have to think this. It's bad enough that I smell like lemon cleansing soap.
He sits up and beckons me over with a smile and a finger. He doesn't have to ask twice. He pulls me to him on the bed; my stomach is level with his lips. He begins kissing my stomach, his hands holding tightly on my hips, his fingers clutching my ass. He moves downward. Downward. Now it's my hips. Downward. Now I can feel him brush my inner tights. I am tingling. My hands are grasping his head, my fingers burrowing in the hair. I am trying to concentrate on his blond highlights, streaks of brown, even some grey, maybe? Anything, but his lips.
He grins up at me, and then moves my left leg to prop my foot up on the bed. I am now spread open for his slow perusal. His hand moves in between my leg, his thumb rubbing from my vagina back towards my clit, like a hot knife through warm butter. I moan and clutch his head even tighter. He is not to be deterred. He moves in, his tongue darting over my clit, first slow, then fast like a trapped bird beating its frantic wings against a glass window pane.
Oh no, Mr. Rhodes. Please.
I shudder, my body collapsing in a rhapsody of waves. Nick knows that I am coming hard, but he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down. He grabs my ass tighter, punishing me with his tongue. I pull away, wobbling as the room spins. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the self-satisfied grin on his face. Maybe it's the fact that I have been intimidated, spanked, and exquisitely tortured. I don't care if I get fired anymore. I don't care about anything but him. Something in me sparks.
I grab my duster off the floor, and in my best authoritative pose, I demand, "Stand up, Mr. Rhodes."
He grins, more of a smirk. He is amused.
"Come here," he says quietly.
"I said, stand up, Mr. Rhodes." I am not budging. My duster is held out stiffly at my side.
He pushes himself up off the bed. I can see a hard bulge pushing through his trousers. He stands up and comes to me to take me in his arms.
"No, no," I say firmly. "You stand right here."
I point with my duster to a spot at my side. "Keep your hands by your side," I warn him.
I stand right in front of him, staring into his eyes. There is a trace of eyeliner that has smudged giving his eyes a smoldering look. A lock of hair is drifting in his face, and I resist the urge to brush it out of his face. He is quietly looking back at me. I start to circle him. "Keep your eyes forward, please," I tell him. I am looking him over from head to toe, down his pleated pants, his black sporty shoes. I circle behind him and run the duster between his legs, up his ass. He involuntarily spreads his legs a little. I can tell he wants to turn his head. I walk back to the front of him.
"What do you think I should do to you, Mr. Rhodes?"
"Hmmm," he says. "I can think of some things." He wants to kiss me, his right hand rises up. I smack it hard. He arches one of his eyebrows i
n mock surprise.
I tuck the duster under my arm, and taking a slight spread-eagle pose in front of him, I start to unbutton his shirt. I hold his stare. I am the one who is supposed to be in control, but his piercing eyes make my heart leap. I fight the urge to smile. I want to cover his lips with mine. I slowly unbutton his shirt, and walking behind him, I carefully pull his shirt across his shoulders and down his arms, letting it drop to the floor.
"Put your hands behind your head," I whisper firmly in his ear. I run my fingers casually over his shoulders, circling around to meet his stare. There is something more in his eyes now than just amusement. He obeys my command, locking his hands behind his head.
"Do you think I should punish you for being such a bad boy?" I ask running my forefinger over his lip.
"How have I been bad?" he questions. His voice is low and deep, and I might think that he was hurt by the statement, but his eyes are sparkling.
"Well, Mr. Rhodes. You did not phone me to tell me that you were coming home. You have been very inconsiderate," I say lightly.
His eyebrows arch together and I know that he wants to argue this point, but I shake my duster in warning.
I step behind him again. I casually drop the duster off to the side. He wants to turn his head to look at me.
"No," I admonish, and firmly grab his jaw, holding it still and straight. I reach around him and unbuckle his belt, and placing one hand on his downy stomach, I quickly slide the leather through the loops, doubling it over in my hand. I walk around to the front. His eyes follow me. I caress his brown berry nipples with the belt loop, moving from one to the other. Puckering my lips in a pout, I slide the belt across his chest, down his stomach over a crop of brown soft hair following it downward. It ends somewhere below his waistband and I am hit with a pang of hard lust. I tuck the belt under my arm and proceed to undo his trousers. Nick swallows hard, closing his eyes. His pants drop. He is wearing black cotton briefs which barely hold in his bulging swollen package. I carefully pull down the underwear taking care not to touch him. His member is standing stiffly against his lower groin. I run the belt over his penis and down towards his balls. I can sense that he wants me to touch him, but I stop and move again, sliding up behind him, pressing my naked chest up against his back. I reach around and pinch his nipples hard. He still has his eyes shut tight and he groans, a deep guttural moan.
I playfully slap the belt across his butt.
"Is that it?" he asks. He drops his arms down from his head.
"Oh no, you don't!" I yell. I grab his arm and whack him with the belt- hard this time. He is laughing, a beautiful laugh that crinkles his eyes and shows all of his pearly white teeth.
"It's not funny," I yell in misery. I get about four more good whacks in.
Nick grabs me in his arms and maneuvers me over to the bed. He wrenches the belt out of my hands and tosses it. I want to protest, but he covers my mouth in his. He is on top of me now on the bed, and in a second, he is inside of me. I tear away from his lips, moaning as he thrusts in and out. Our lovemaking is frenetic, a flurry of unheeded passion. We abandon ourselves to animal urgency. I can feel him inside me and I close my eyes, concentrating on the wonderful feeling of his cock moving in and out, tickling my clit. I wrap my legs around him; I love this feeling of being so close to him and I just want to melt into him. I open my eyes and watch his face. His eyes are closed now and I can see the passion building in his face. He shudders hard, slowly continuing his thrusting, until he collapses on the side of me.
"That was good," he says, smiling. "Thank you, Kelly." He kisses my forehead, wraps me in his arms, and rolls onto his back. I relish in the afterglow, listening to his breathing. All of a sudden, a faint snore breaks the peace. I look up into his face.
Mr. Rhodes is asleep.
I don't want to leave. But after a few minutes, I unwind myself from his arms. He rolls onto his side, completely out of it. He must be tired, I think, from being on a plane all day. I grab an afghan that has been folded on the couch and cover him with it. He doesn't even move.
I slowly put my clothes back on, and walk into the bathroom to freshen up. I stare at the girl in the mirror, smoothing my uniform, tucking my hair. The girl is smiling, glowing. I wink back. I wash my hands, and on impulse, I flick my fingers sending water droplets cascading down the clean glass. Those will dry into some ugly looking water spots on the mirror, I think wickedly.
And if there's one thing Mr. Rhodes doesn't like, it's water spots on his bathroom mirror.
I'll be back first thing in the morning! Can't have the place a mess now, can we?
The End.
A Visitor
She had just finished her lipstick, and if I do say so myself, looked amazing, even for her. Her black cocktail dress, despite it's moderate length, cant hide that fact that she is a woman top to bottom. And even though I just fucked her to magnificent mutual orgasms about 6 hours ago, my cock begins to uncontrollably stiffen as she walks down the hall.
"Almost ready?" She asks. Quite deliberately she has been made to think that we are celebrating her birthday with a night on the town. Specifically, dinner then the theatre then nightcap at a downtown hotel. But I have other plans lined up...
"Almost." I reply just as the doorbell rings. "I'll get it. Probably the car service."
"Dont they just call?"
"New company: maybe they do it differently?"
I open the door to the guest I expected. A girl I know from work. Chloe. 23. Redhead. Extremely short and small framed, maybe 5'1" and 95 pounds. Young Sandy Duncan esque haircut, exquisite elfin features. Lisa rounds the corner just as I'm paying the girl our pre- agreed on $500 cash.
"Whats going on?" Lisa hasn't caught on yet and thus her indignation is up. Hopefully, for her sake, once things are explained to her, she will adjust her attitude.
"Change in plans, dear. We're going to see the play next weekend. Tonight, our guest Chloe here is going to help me with something."
"Really! With what." Lisa is not amused, I see her every body language clue stiffen.
"If you must know ahead of time, Missy. Chloe is going to help me punish you and then she's going to fuck you." Lisa glances at Chloe, who has turned her back to look at our living room, she reddens, but her poise is such that she composes herself enough to say. "May I see you in the other room." And turns on her heel without waiting for my answer and walks briskly into the kitchen. I follow, more amused than angry at her willfullness. Once in the kitchen Lisa fairly hisses at me "Absolutely not!! Is that girl still in HIGH SCHOOL!?! No Victor! I wont do it."
I am smirking and she sees me and gets angrier. "She's practically a child! I will not be subjected to this, Absolutely no way"
"First of all, she looks younger than she is, Second, Lisa, you will ABSOLUTELY do what you're told. I understand an outburst but get a hold of yourself and remember your place. I have a specific set of things I want done but I can always make things more humiliating for you and I can always make your bottom take a little more, so watch your pretty mouth. Just because your beautiful when you're angry doesn't mean all this disobedience isnt registering with me."
Lisa's no dummy and switches tactics " But it's my Birthday! I want to see the play! You promised!"
"Actually there was no promise, but nevertheless you WILL see the play, just next week. Tonight you will crawl into the living room and be just as servile and submissive to Chloe as you are to me, with no more argument or I will take down the cane and give you stripes you'll never forget!"
She struggles with this, and somewhat surprisingly to me, still resists. "No Victor, I'm sorry and I want to please you but I cant do this." She sounds positively mournful, but I have already paid the girl, and Lisa used to be very resistant to other things that she now does at the drop of a hat, so I am unmoved.
I call into the living room "Chloe, make yourself at home, we'll be back in a moment." To Lisa: "Let's go discuss this in the bedroom." She seems to relax, perhaps t
hinking I'm coming around and leads me down the hall to the master bedroom. At the door I turn her around, kiss her on the mouth and secure her hands behind her back, both her wrists in my left hand. "Honey, you are going out there one way or another, it's up to you how many spanks you get beforehand. As I sweep her off her feet face down across my left thigh. My right leg pins down the back of her knees and a start spanking her bottom hard and fast, probably two spanks every second for at least a full minute. She is not at all used to a pace this fast and she HOWLS in shock and shame and thrashes against my restraining her, but she is pinned at both her wrists and knees and I am not being gentle with my grip. When my hand begins to sting, I stop. While she normally reddens quickly, her ass is positively scarlet and warm to my palm as I rest it on her scalded rump. I give her ten seconds to gasp and sob a little until I say
"ready to behave yourself? There's plenty more of that for you if you;re not."
"yes."
Yes, what?" as we fall into the ritual.
"Yes Sir. I'll behave."
"alright then. Strip that dress off and crawl from here to the living room, bra and panties only."
"please, Victor. Sir, dont make me crawl! It's so embarrassing. In front of that girl...!?"
"It's supposed to be embarrassing. You've made it more so by howling like banshee and by the marks you just earned. Remember that! It will always go worse for you if you resist. So strip and crawl dear, before you get another dose."
She crawls as she's been instructed, slowly with her head low and her ass high, left arm reaches as her right knee moves forward, back arched, her chest skimming the ground. I have made her watch videotape of herself doing this and she knows how sexy she looks. I walk ahead of her and find Chloe sprawled on our couch. As directed, she has made herself at home by herself stripping down to bra and panties (her's are baby blue, offsetting her red hair) and helping herself to a drink. She has laid out two implements. A small length of bamboo, thin as my little finger and not longer than her own forearm, and a narrow strip of firm, flexible leather that gathers to a bound handle. I sit in a chair profile to her as Lisa makes the turn from hallway to living room and stops, waiting further instructions.
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