by James Grey
I feel a lot like I did the day I stormed out of the office. But something has changed in me, because I feel like I can channel this a lot better. I’m going to do something with it. I won’t be going away to flop on a bed. But I’m not going to fly off the handle either. These two will only chortle at a hysterical girl-fit.
It takes everything I’ve got not to lose it. My energy goes into standing up tall and folding my arms in most disapproving fashion. I’m proud of how quickly I’ve adapted. Even when he’s still there, smiling me into a rage. Even as her hand moves to cup his balls.
I speak as sternly as I can manage. “Rupert! You’ve been very unwise.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, then goes ever so slightly submissive. He bows his head and moves his hands from his hips to behind his back. Oh Christ, does this mean I’m doing it right?
I notice that I’m tapping my right foot as I continue with my non-specific line of accusation. “You have shown an extraordinary lack of judgement, young man. I have been sent to correct you.”
To my surprise, I don’t hear my voice waver. But I notice that Petra’s lips somehow seem to curl into a smile even as she carries on her awful work. I want to rip her face off. The ongoing sex act ignites me and kicks me into another gear.
I bellow louder at him now, “Where the fuck is your belt, you slut? Answer me! And remove yourself from that whore’s mouth right now.”
Even Petra is stilled now. I’m surprised by the note I’ve hit. Rupert is straight-faced once again. And he obeys me without any argument. He wriggles backwards, springing free from her lips without changing his position. Holy shit! It’s working!
It’s hard not to get distracted by his erection, so I look him in the eye as he says, softly, “You will find it still on my trousers, Miss Carling. They are at your feet.”
This is not supposed to be so natural. But what I’ve seen has just slipped me into a zone. An intense place where the words somehow just come out right. I’m winning. Petra is leaning back on her hands, seemingly lost in thought. Let her. She’s good for motivation.
I continue, though I can’t believe it’s me saying, “You think I’m going to bend down for it? You’re a worthless peasant. You’ll prepare your own punishment. Come and get the belt. And don’t look me in the eye again. I’ll be sick.”
Rupert keeps his hands behind his back, though I haven’t asked him to. And he keeps his head bowed. Interesting. Then he slides off the bed and takes the couple of steps towards me. He squats down without looking up once, and retrieves his belt at my feet. I can smell him again. It’s the same scent as the letter.
I look away, for fear of melting, and see Petra sitting there like she owns the place. My anger comes flooding back at the sight of her.
“Give me that!” I command.
He stays on the floor as he reaches up and hands me his expensive-looking leather belt. It’s got a well-polished silver buckle, but apart from that it’s a relatively safe strip of high-quality leather. It has that smell.
Then I bend down and speak to him in a low threatening tone I never knew I had. “I want you to crawl over to that fancy armchair of yours and bend over the arm.”
I spin round to my left and watch him go. He does it wordlessly. He is still glistening and large after Petra’s efforts, which makes me want to hit him more. He does just as I ask, totally the opposite man to the one I thought I knew. Meek and yielding, Rupert paws at the arm of his chair and pulls himself over it. He grabs the opposite arm so that his torso is suspended over the seat.
I remain standing with my arms folded. I think I succeed in looking emotionless. Even though I want to grimace as I see the way he’s pressed against the chair leg. It has to hurt. His legs don’t seem to be taking any weight and I’m not sure how he’s holding himself in this position. But his butt is at the perfect angle for a lashing. I guess he’s done this before.
Suddenly I wish I had those stilettos she’s wearing. They would make a far more ominous sound on these floors than my tennis shoes. But I’ll be damned if I so much as acknowledge Petra, who seems to have lost interest in the situation. She’s lying back now, staring at the ceiling with her knees up.
Well, this is it.
I’ve never hit anyone in my life before. But I’m not sure I’ve ever been this furious before. My last day at work included. Fucking worm! With her! Ugh!
Outside-world righteousness wells up in me once again and I step towards him. I’m surprised to find that my legs aren’t shaking. I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy hitting him, but I can do this. And I think I might enjoy the build-up.
“You know what you’ve done, don’t you Rupert?”
“Yes mistr…Miss Carling.” Did he almost call me ‘mistress’?
“Good, then we’re getting somewhere. Would you care to elaborate?”
There’s a pause as he takes two deep breaths. Momentarily I’m distracted by the rise and fall of his muscular back, just a tiny hint of damp with perspiration. No two ways about it, he makes a fine sight. Even from this unusual angle.
“Miss Carling,” he begins. “I’ve treated you disrespectfully. I was not a gentleman after we made love the other day.”
Made love? My poor brain. It’s on fire. It’s hard to keep my focus. I have no idea what I’m feeling any more. I know the burning rage is still there, but I keep on softening when he says the right words. And is there also something sexual in my emotions right now? Surely not.
And yet…I can’t deny the warm juices I can feel in my crotch. How can that be? I’ve just been hideously betrayed. What could be less sexy? But then I run my thumb across the cool leather of his belt, and look once more at bared cheeks, which I’m going to punish for his wrongdoing.
And suddenly I’m not so sure of anything.
The whole situation is so alien. It’s a heady mix of enmity, jealousy, anger and desire. And it’s very, very potent. I very much doubt the Emma of last week would have done anything other than run away. And if it’s not bizarre enough, the bitch at the centre of it all is still here, watching.
I look across at her once more, and that loathing shoots to the fore again. I find myself whipping my head back towards Rupert’s rear end.
“AND…?” I tap my foot impatiently.
He speaks softer now, somewhere between a whisper and a wheeze. “And, I have taken liberties with a wanton harlot, allowing her to pleasure me inappropriately. I should be punished, Miss Carling.”
Suddenly I snap. It’s not just the admission, but the arrogant note in his voice, even as he asks to be punished.
“You’re fucking right you will be,” says a voice that isn’t quite mine. “You womanizing prick.”
I take a step forward, slide my hand halfway down the belt for control, draw back my arm, and land a surprisingly swift, accurate blow across his buttocks.
CRACK!
I plough on, while both my rage and my nerve lasts.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I absolutely rain down the belt blows on him. My aim is good. He doesn’t complain and doesn’t move. I take a step closer, and experiment with a higher backlift.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
He’s grunting a little with each hit now. Tense, and straining his legs against the floor. What kind of grunt it is, I can’t say. His face is still buried, and I don’t know what this perverted freak might be thinking. He could be smiling, for all I know.
The thought spurs me into another volley of whips. One way or another I’m going to make him rue messing with me. He asked for this, in more ways than one.
I pause after what must be the fifteenth blow or so. “Are you sorry yet?” I’m standing with my arms folded and the belt dangling menacingly from my right hand. And my voice drips with sarcasm.
“Yes, Miss Carling,” he gasps. It sounds like he might genuinely be feeling some discomfort now. “I’m truly sorry.”
I feel like I’ve made my point. His ass is now blushing pink. I did that! Am I pr
oud? A little, maybe. I pause a moment as my wrist brushes my nipple through the thin fabric of my blouse. It’s rock solid. Holy hell!
I can’t say I felt sexual excitement doing that. But I did feel powerful, and it did get something out of my system. I believed with all my heart that he deserved that punishment, and I didn’t hold back. I threw my heart and soul into his strapping…and it seems I’ve got ice-breaker nipples to show for it.
And now that I think about it, my panties are wetter too.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. The ticking of the clock is the only sound in the room. I’ve got a naked man, beaten red, draped over an armchair. And I’ve got a half-naked Bulgarian blonde bitch lying on the bed. It feels like it’s down to me to manage this further.
My thoughts go crazy again. So maybe I am kind of turned on. Yes, okay, part of me wants to stand him up and help make it all better. But no way is he getting a treat from me so soon. I only have to look at Petra to remind myself of that. I have to stay in punishment mode right now.
I’m feeling good about that. Nobody’s questioning my authority in this room. Even though Petra’s body language is that of a slouchy, disinterested, disrespectful schoolgirl. Am I going to walk out now, and let them get back to it? Or what?
And then words just tumble out of my mouth. Maybe the power has gone to my head. “Fine. You are done, Rupert. Now that slut of yours needs punishing too.”
Chapter XVI
My mouth runs dry. I can’t believe I just said that! Where the hell did that line come from? Petra needs a lesson, and I’m on the warpath, but I seem to have forgotten that she intimidates me. Am I planning on taking the belt to her, too? Shit! I can’t turn back now!
Something really has gone haywire inside me now. It’s reminiscent of drunkenness. It must stem from the attack I’ve just dished out. I feel as liberated as I did the day I stormed out of my job. Yes! You did that!
The voice of reason is faint inside my head now, but I can still hear its distant echo. It suggests I’m probably not allowed to beat a classmate. I wonder if I can even take that for granted in this fucked-up place.
No way am I dropping the idea now. My anger is back, redoubled, now that I’ve turned my attention to her. And I’ll not lose face. But fine, I’ll at least make sure I don’t act alone. I’ll use my man-slave.
“Get up, Rupert,” I bark. “She’s not getting away with this either. Part two of your punishment is helping me set her straight.” The tone of voice is one I’ve only ever heard from myself once before. That was on the day I quit.
I’m amazed at myself. I’m feeling like wild tempest right now, but one spitting out plans that might just work. Has my thinking ever been this lucid? Is that what life as a ‘mistress’ does to you?
Petra doesn’t seem to have heard a thing I’ve said. If anything, there’s another trace of a wicked smile on her face. Rupert pushes himself upright once more. I notice that he’s still fully erect. I flush with pride at the thought that my beating might have turned him on. Just like him beating me might turn me on…
He resumes his low, hands-behind-back submissive position. Thank God, he’s on my side still. How long will that last?
“Okay, it takes two to tango, Rupert,” I say, pulling his belt suggestively through my hands without even knowing I’m doing it. “That wench needs punishing too, for whoring herself out like that.”
Even in my heightened state, I don’t fail to notice the irony. But I motor on, starting to relish the thought of teaching Petra a lesson. I know that as a fellow trainee she can fight me, but she surely has to obey Rupert. “I want you to bring her over to the chair and hold her down for me. I’m going to stripe her ass. Now DO IT.”
I flare my nostrils as I notice that Petra is finally paying attention and sitting upright. In fact, she’s swung her legs over the edge of the bed now, as if she’s planning on running out. I pray Rupert will act in time.
Petra springs to her feet like a frightened cat. “Go, Rupert! Move!” I roar in a voice I didn’t know I had. I’ve started this mean queen thing, and whether I succeed or end up looking silly is, in this knife-edge moment, down to Rupert. I’m banking on success. This is his chance to repay me.
Rupert responds just in time. He morphs back into the large, powerful man I’ve come to know. And two strides is all he needs to intercept Petra’s attempt at bolting. He grabs her by the elbows, locking her in place. She knows it’s pointless to resist his strong hands, and goes limp.
“You heard Miss Carling,” he says as he moves around behind her, never losing his vice grip. “You’re to be punished now, Miss Stoycheva.”
“Fine,” is all she says, tossing her head and avoiding my eye. I guess she’s back to shrugging mode. No doubt she’s been through the punishment routine before, seasoned tart that she is. I notice that her lipstick is smudged after her sucking frenzy. Shameless.
I regard her, standing there in Rupert’s shirt, which hangs open so her little breasts poke out, looking right at me. Her belly button joins in their defiant gaze, like some kind of freaky third eye. She’s breathing heavier than I’ve seen before, her tiny, flat tummy rising and falling as she awaits our next move.
I can’t believe I’ve let myself get aroused by this woman. Well, that was this morning.
“I don’t want her wearing your shirt!” I scream. “Get it off her. And she can lose the stupid slut shoes too. This isn’t meant to be fun.”
Rupert holds her right elbow firm and starts to tug at her opposite sleeve. She wriggles, pulling it out angrily, thrusting her tits towards me as she does so.
“Stop it,” she says. “I’ll do it. I’m not fighting you.”
Does anything shake this woman? Does she just take anything? I can’t help wondering, as she squirms out of the shirt when he relaxes his grip. Then she kicks off the heels, and casually folds her arms. Sullen. It drives me berserk.
When I let rip at my boss last week – was it only last week? – her response was to gawp at me like a goldfish. This indifference is far less satisfying.
“Put her on the chair this second!” I scream. “She’s got a fucking attitude problem and I’m going to beat it out of her!”
I have well and truly snapped this time. Everything she does just makes me insane. My eyes are wide and I’m snorting fire as I watch Rupert take her by the neck and steer her towards the chair.
“Face down,” I order him. It’s true that I don’t want to see her face as I do this. Mainly because the sight of it really, really makes me sick. But also because part of me is scared it’ll turn me on.
At my command he lifts her up and lies her flat across the chair. She’s so tiny that she balances perfectly over the big, wide seating area. Her armpits rest on one chair arm and her knees on the other. Her arms dangle in resignation.
Her miniscule butt hovers in mid-air. It’s perfect. Too perfect. My eyes narrow.
I don’t think she’s going to run now, but I still feel the need for approval and support on this. It’s important that I’m acting with Rupert, who is some kind of staff associate, or tester, or whatever he is. The collusion will give licence to my frenzy. So I instruct him to hold her legs down.
Only now do I remember that she’s still wearing her panties. Simply no good for the damage I have in mind. I want her total humiliation. For that she must be stripped.
“Right, these are coming off,” I say, and find myself tearing the hip string and yanking. It gives, but I’m so irrational right now that I can’t take in the need to break it elsewhere to get it off. I hate having to put my hands on her right now, and never mind our shower routine.
I tear wildly at the broader piece of fabric covering her right buttock, hoping like hell she’s hating this as much as I am. Eventually it tears right across, and I pull up roughly from between her legs, hoping she gets some chafe. I hear her click her tongue, but her head stays down.
The most secret part of that panty fabric brushes my hand as
I gather it up and toss it aside. And for all my fury, I can’t help noticing that it’s dry as a bone.
But all I can think of right now is tanning this bitch’s ass till its crimson. And then some.
I start to smack her before I chicken out.
CRACK!
She’s horizontal to the ground, which makes it that much easier than it was with Rupert. Gravity is entirely with me.
CRACK!
Also, my fury with her is deeper, more white-hot, than it is with Rupert.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
This is so depraved.
CRACK!
She doesn’t flinch. Just floats there.
CRACK!
I can sense her rolling her eyes, and it makes me find an extra gear.
CRACK! CRACK!
I’m in the zone now. Her tiny ass is taking on a delicate rouge hue in the places I’ve hit her. It’s no work of art, this pattern I’ve made. The inch-wide stripes zigzag this way and that across the peaks of her buttocks.
Good. I’m spreading the pain.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
At last she begins to writhe. No sounds, just a wriggle. I’m not having that.
“Keep her still!” I yell to Rupert, my weird passion still at fever pitch as I push deeper into this unknown world. I’m terrified by what’s come over me, but I know I’m not done.
Calmly, Rupert walks around the back of the chair, keeping one hand on her skinny legs and placing one on her back. He’s so much stronger than her, she’s locked in place. His long arms let him stay upright enough to keep out of harm’s way.
I like that she’s locked down like this, by my lover. Yes, that’s what he is! We’re punishing her together for leading him astray. It’s delicious, exquisite, to be the one dealing out the justice. Just me and him, together, putting things back the way they were.