Saturday Spanks: The Heart of the Deal - #BDSM #femdom #SaturdaySpanks

Today’s Saturday Spanks comes from The Heart of the Deal. It doesn’t include an actual spanking – but I guarantee that the promise is just as hot. Especially if you like femdom!

Enjoy!

“You’re going to have to do a better job of obeying me, Rick, or you’ll be sorrier than you can possibly imagine. Open your mouth.”

When I do, she thrusts her razor-like heel between my lips. “Suck on that.” I try to obey and at the same time avoid having my tongue slashed open. For the first time, I wonder if Ruby would truly hurt me. A part of me notices how the twinge of fear increases my already unbearable tumescence.

“I know that this excites you, Rick,” she murmurs as she fucks my mouth with her heel. “You can’t pretend with me. I see right into your slimy little heart. I’m warning you, though…” She pulls out her heel, raking it against the insides of my mouth, and leans over me, skewering me with dark, angry eyes. “If you come without permission, I’ll make you hurt so badly that even a pain slut like you won’t enjoy it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mistress Ruby.” Am I really like this, I wonder? A part of me is watching my reactions, from a distance, in total disbelief.

“Good. Now put your hands behind your back.” When I do, she circles behind me, and I feel smooth lengths of nylon cord wrapping around my wrists. “Try to get loose.” I wriggle and twist my hands. I’m trussed like a chicken, though there’s enough give in the rope that the blood still flows.

She sits down on a bench opposite me, her legs apart. A cloud of her musk washes over me. The lacy garment she wears is open at the crotch. I lean toward her, trying to inhale her, dying to touch her, to taste her. Her fragrant, shadowy sex draws me like a magnet. My cock swings wildly toward north.

“Want me?” I can’t answer, struggling as I am to suppress the cum that is boiling up my stalk. She knows the answer anyway. But she’s relentless.

“Answer me!” She reaches out and pinches the tip of my bulb with knife-like fingernails.

“Ow!” I can barely speak. “Yes, I want you. You know I do. Please, Ruby, let me eat you. Let me make you come.”

Her slap knocks me off balance. “How dare you? And what did I tell you about addressing me?”

My cheek stings from her blow. Pre-cum drips to the mat, gathering in a sticky pool.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Suddenly I am—dreadfully, desperately sorry. All I want to do is to please her, if not with my body then with my obedience.

The door swings open suddenly. I look up. The sight that meets my eyes knocks the breath out of me as surely as if Ruby had punched me in the solar plexus.

The menacing figure standing in the doorway might have been born of de Sade’s nightmares. Her ripe body is arrayed in red leather and gray steel, studded straps and woven chains. The bands bite into her fleshy breasts; the chains are pulled tight between her labia. I understand the message of this costume: my pain, it says, is but the merest echo of the pain that I can inflict. Blood-hued boots sheath her muscled calves and thighs. The heels make Ruby’s spikes look modest and unremarkable. The black leather gloves she wears have pointed studs embedded in the palms. Her hair is slicked back from her brow. Her eyes are heavily shadowed with black and gold, and her full lips look as though they have been painted in gore.

She is smiling, a mocking, knowing smile that shrivels whatever vestiges of my self-esteem still remain. I know that it is Margaret—only Margaret, I tell myself—but when she lays her studded palm against my cheek, I cringe.

“So, you’ve already started,” she says. Her voice is low, melodious, strangely soothing. “And how is our little Richard?” She grasps my cock in her gloved hand and squeezes, just enough to scare me. “Eager, it seems, for the evening’s entertainment. Is that so, Richard?”

She looks into my eyes, and I’m simultaneously flooded with excitement and guilt. I can’t believe that I used this woman so badly. I’m aroused and terrified by the thought of how she might take her revenge.

Margaret grips me more firmly, until steel bites into my turgid flesh. “Answer me, Rick. Are you eager? Are you ready?”

I can’t hold her gaze. I look miserably down at her hand clutching me. “Yes, Mistress. I’m ready.”

“Very good. Well, we won’t keep you waiting. Luna, bring in the bag so that we can show our little friend all the delightful things we have in store for him.”

I look up and see that Luna has joined us. She looks delicious in a gauzy white chemise that shows all her charms, and a tiny thong to match. Unlike her companions, she is barefoot.

She scurries over to Margaret, carrying a heavy-looking duffel bag. Then, to my astonishment, she kneels at the other woman’s feet.

“Open it,” Margaret commands. Luna hastens to obey. “Now, Rick, let me show you some of the souvenirs that I brought back from San Francisco.”

The first thing that she finds is a vicious-looking riding crop. It whistles as she swishes it through the air. When it smacks into the mat just in front of my knees, I jump. “Perhaps you’d like to be my little pony,” she comments, as she puts it aside.

Next she pulls out some tangled contraption of stainless steel. It takes me three breaths to recognize it as a pair of nipple clamps, adorned with tear-drops of dull gray metal that I realize must be weights. She opens the jaws of one and holds it just above my chest. 

“You seemed so interested in the effects of clothespins,” she remarks genially, leaning close. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, anticipating agony when she releases the spring and allows it to close on my flesh. But nothing happens. When I open my eyes, I see that all three of the women are laughing at me.

My cheeks burn. My cock throbs. Margaret is busily pulling more articles from her infernal bag, each one more obscene than the last. A heavy leather strap with studs on the end. A huge, realistic dildo, black as coal. A device made of fluorescent green jelly that I recognize, with a sinking stomach, as a butt plug. Leather cuffs and straps. “I didn’t bring back a cat,” she remarks to Ruby. “I figured we could use yours.”

Ruby strokes the leather thongs almost lovingly. “Indeed. I’ve been counting on it.”

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