Being Late Deserves A Spanking!

As I dressed in the glimmering, tight material of the latex pencil skirt, I assumed the role of a dominatrix. My ass cheeks bulged out of the figure-hugging costume as my heels clicked against the floor, and my eyes glanced at a selection of tools that were available to me. Every mistress needs a slave, and unfortunately, mine was running late, so he needed to be punished. Picking up an appropriate prop for the job, my hands clasped shut around the leather shaft of a spanking whip, and I nursed it in my grip as I awaited the eventual arrival of my subject.

Upon hearing the metal door of the cellar clank shut, I let my voice rip through the otherwise silent air.

“You’re late! Do you know what that means!?”

“I’m… sorry mistress.”

“Do you know what that means? Fucking answer me!”

“Yes,” came his hoarse response, “Yes, it means you’re going to punish me.”

“Then hurry. Get your ass over here so that I can give you the spanking that you deserve!”

As he approached, I could see that he was already trembling. I pulled him closer to me using the material of his tie and then proceeded to slam him into the cold brick surface of the wall. I probed his mouth with my tongue, wrapping my lips around his own, and grinned in delight as his cock brushed my thigh. So I knew that my little slave loved me wearing latex, and now I could well and truly tease him as I satisfied his dirty fetish.

I pulled his trousers to the floor, and sat on a leather stool, commanding him to bend over my lap. First, I began to explore his ass-cheeks with my gloved hands. I’m trying to find the perfect spot to let my paddle tear into his flesh. I spanked him with my hands, watching his reaction as he winced.

At last, I found it; a spot that made his entire body shudder as my palm met it with some velocity.

Switching to my whip, I punished him until his skin was scarlet and raw, and a twisted satisfaction filled my body as it repeatedly etched into his skin with a bone-shuddering thump. I let my mind ponder – should I reward him for taking such a punishment? Or does he not deserve any reward?

Eventually, I made up my mind. After all, he had been such a loyal slave.

“Cum for me,” I demanded, “You deserve a treat, slave.”

I gripped his cock with the gloved, protected palms of my hands and began to grip it tightly. I’m rolling my hands back and forth to pleasure him as he remained balanced on my lap. He squirmed as my skilled hands worked his erection, milking him as he began to throb uncontrollably, unleashing a flurry of warm, sticky liquid that splattered my skirt, and then proceeded to drip into a milky puddle on the dark, wooden flooring.

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