“You’re, you’re going to spank me…Mistress?”
“Yes, because quite honestly, Victor, you deserve it. After standing me up last night, not using the plug when I told you to, and then all that skiving and sending dirty emails when you should have been working, you really do need to take your punishment.” I leaned closer so my lips caressed his earlobe. “You’ve been bad. Really bad, and for that you must take the consequences, but…I’m pretty damn sure it will get you off.”
He looked at me, taking his attention from The Harlequin, who was reaching into a black-and-white chequered box.
“The show,” I snapped, whacking his arse again.
His cock grew in my other hand. Yes, I had him.
He looked through the window.
“Let the heat spread,” I murmured in a softer tone. “Harness that pain and add it to your arousal. It will feel fucking fantastic when you come.” I kissed the bottom curve of his neck. “Trust me.”
The Harlequin had taken a long, plastic snake out of the box now and placed its fake rubbery body over those luscious big tits as the swaying dance routine began.
Briefly I let go of Victor’s cock, but only to reach for a paddle from my handbag. There was no way my palm would cope with the beating I intended for my little virgin.
“A bit wider.” I nudged at his feet, and he broadened his stance. “You remember my middle name?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Use it if you need to.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
The dance was slow to start with, lots of snake-tit action going on as The Harlequin moved past each window, stopping to press the assets that were the star of the show against the panes. When hard nipples, the size of Christmas baubles, squished in front of Victor, I applied the first stroke.
The flesh-on-wood noise rang around the room. He shifted forwards but quickly back. The snake, I swear, was giving him the eye, even though it wasn’t real.
My pussy was damp, my skin flushed, and I had Victor just where I wanted him. Obedient, naked and enjoying a show that would shock the hell out of him. How far would he let me go? What would it take for him to snap?
“Yes, that’s it,” I said. “Show me you’re the type of man who can stand up and take the pain.”
The Harlequin moved on. I hit Victor again, setting up a steady rhythm that I knew would make the strikes blur into one hot mass of torment.
I glanced down. His buttocks were rapidly becoming a fiery red, his cock engorged, bobbing between his belly and the wall beneath the window.
For a moment I wondered if I should paddle him and suck him off at the same time, but I was enjoying watching his expression too much. The Harlequin had poked the end of the toy snake into small red-and-blue striped panties, the head disappearing from view.
“Jesus, is she going to use that long thing as a dildo?” Victor asked, his voice strained like his throat had contracted.
I felt sorry for him, gripped his cock and wanked him slowly, so he had somewhere to direct the pain my paddle was doling out. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a bit big.”
“Yeah, but you’re hard as a damn steel rod. It’s turning you on, imagining that really happening.”
He blew out a breath, gritted his teeth. “Fuck, that hurts, you know? What you’re doing.”
“Yes, but you deserve it.” I increased the pace, to show that I meant it.
He gasped. “To be hurt? Does anyone deserve to be hurt?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Really?”
“Yes, and this is good hurt so stop whining.”
“If you say so… Mistress.”
I whacked even harder, ignoring the ache building in my arm.
“Ah, fucking hell.” He canted his hips forwards and sucked in a breath, the air hissing around his teeth.
“So just come then it will all be over,” I said a little breathlessly.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes, fucking hell, Victor, that’s the idea.”
He removed his hands from the window. Went to reach for me.
“No,” I shouted and stepped back. “Don’t fucking move.”
That muscle jumped in his cheek. He hesitated and then turned back to the window and placed his palms on the glass. He stared at The Harlequin, who was lying down and writhing as if on the way to climax. Damn, it was a freaky show, that’s why it was only performed once a fortnight. It just didn’t have the following.
I started up my paddling again, arousal spinning in my brain, tugging my sex and making my panties damper. I knew Victor was turned on, he was just fighting it.
His beaten arse was a glorious shade of scarlet, the skin rippling on each strike. His cock held a drip of pre-cum, and he was panting through the pain. I had him on the edge of his boundary. I was pretty damn sure I had.
The Harlequin’s orgasm arrived, the shrieks of pleasure swirling into our small room.
“Oh, God,” Victor groaned.
“That’s it,” I said, “come, come for me now and take all this pain with you.”
