My Mistress, My Lover: Ch. 2

The box was to be my punishment, but I could already feel my pussy becoming damp in anticipation of whatever my mistress had planned.

“There you are, slave,” my mistress growled, that evil look in her eyes telling me what I already knew. This was to be an event for her pleasure, not mine.

As I reached her chair, I stood unflinching as the bull whip struck her hand. My fingers tightly grasping each wrist behind my back, legs shoulder width apart, eyes to the floor, I awaited my orders. Pushing away her chair, Mistress walked, no stalked, around me, allowing the whip to crack against the floor. I heard doors open and close as clients entered their rooms, the rustling of many pairs of pants as their cocks immediately hardened at the hardcore sight before them. My nipples hardened at the thought of all those pairs of eyes on me.

Mistress stopped suddenly behind me on her third walk around. I had passed her expection. “Pick up the chair, slut.” she growled, the bull whip striking my nylon-covered thigh, ripping the brand new stockings and effectively reddening the soft flesh beneath it. I did not make any noise or flinch, instead purring, “Thank you Mistress, may I please have another?”

“Not yet, whore. Follow my command,” the sharp edge in her voice telling me to move quickly.

I picked up the chair and turned towards her, staring at the object, waiting. “I think it would please these men if you did a little strip tease for them, wouldn’t it slave? Make it good, and you sure as hell better take your time,” she added the last part in a harsh whisper.

“Yes, Mistress, if it pleases you, Mistress.” My hands were already at my ass, slowly running their way to my hips and up my stomach, cupping my breasts and letting my head fall back with a moan. My fingers deftly undid the straps of the corset, and reached seductively behind me to undo the clasp and zipper. I lifted my stockinged leg up onto the chair, posing for the clients, slowly running my eyes across the walls of the one-way mirror. I shimmied slowly out of the corset, leaving them to see my bare upper body. My pierced nipples felt the bite of the cool air and hardened, causing me to shiver. I pinched them both, twisting and pulling them, clenching my teeth and whining like the depraved slut I was. Slowly moving to my black panties, I hooked my fingers under the band, leaning forward and pushing my butt out, rocking my hips, assuring the men behind me got a good view.

Turning seductively, I stared into the mirror, watching my own movements. Bending in half slowly, knees unbending, I allowed my head to nearly touch the floor as I slid my panties down my legs. Looking in between my legs, I saw my mistress wickedly smiling and kicking her lips. Whipping my body straight, flicking my hair behind me in a sexy show, I spun on one heel and kicked my panties out from under my stiletto. Flinging them into one of the peepholes, where one happy man could use them to jack off.

“Hands and knees, crawl to me, slave.” And so I did, wiggling my sexy ass as much as possible along the way. When I got to her knees, she bent slightly so that her fragrant pussy was inches from my eager lips. She stood there for a minute, then laughed at the drool sliding down my chin. “Whore, you want my pussy, do you? Well you must earn it.” I felt the bull whip strike my upper back with a crack. Pain radiated down my back, straight to my pussy.

“Thank you, Mistress, may I please have another?” I gasped.

“Excuse me, slave? Count! Ten more lashes for your mistake,” she roared. My eyes widened at my forgetfullness. Crack! Another lash hit my lower back.

“Two! Thank you Mistress, may I please have another?”

“Yes! You may!” she screamed, the whip striking me three more times without pause.

“Three. Four. Five. Thank you Mistress, may I please have another?” There was no more pain, only pleasure as I felt my pussy juices dripping down my thighs.

She continued for fifteen more lashes, a total of twenty, before my moans and gasped turned to sobs, my body shaking as I counted for her. My entire back and ass were candy apple red, my juices now a puddle on the floor. Mistress finally stopped then, and leaned down, whispering in my ear, “Do. Not. Touch. That sweet pussy. Ever. Again. It is mine, do you fucking understand that, slut?” Yanking me to my feet, her eyes bored holes into mine.

“Yes, Mistress,” I managed to shakily answer back.

“Good. Get back to work, whore, and remember who owns that glorious body of yours.” She strode out of the room, slamming and locking the door to the box, leaving me to perform until she decided otherwise.