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.”
