Punish Me, Please

by Reese Gabriel

  “Yes...the belt on my bare skin.”

  “You need it, Sheila, and you want it, too, don’t you?”

  “Yes...”

  He waved his hand. The servers promptly scattered in several directions. “You did very well,” he assured her. “You were a good, brave girl. You did just as you were told.”

  Her eyes were heavy lidded with desire. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Jeremy marveled at the change, in just one short session, without a bit of physical contact, she was already well on her way to becoming a sex slave. He was almost afraid she might be too easy. If that were the case, he would have to raise the stakes on her, forcing her to rebel—against her own will.

  “Eat your fish,” he told her. “You’re going to need your strength for later.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stone.” Sheila went right to work on her dinner, her motions quick, mechanical, and obedient.

  His cock swelled in response. Such a beautiful, innocent creature, full of dreams that were about to come true.

  In the form of nightmares, that is.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sheila barely tasted her dinner. Mr. Stone asked her if she liked it, and she told him she did, making sure to tell him thank you for letting her eat.

  He laughed and told her to slow down and she apologized, afraid she’d done wrong.

  “Nonsense, dear girl,” he said. “I just don’t want you getting indigestion, that’s all.”

  Sheila’s stomach was already topsy-turvy and full of butterflies. Mr. Stone had already stated his intention to punish her, making her tell the waiters that she deserved it, even.

  Would he do it, tonight? Would it be with both his belt and his hand? How intense would it be?

  She needed to have her strength, he’d said. That sounded harsh.

  “Sheila,” he asked, “have you ever wondered what happened to your predecessor?”

  The way he said her name sent chills down her spine, hot ones that moved directly to the seat of her pants.

  “No, Sir,” she said deliberately, trying hard to focus on the rules concerning speaking and eye contact.

  Mr. Stone smiled. “She had fantasies,” he explained, “though not as vivid as yours.”

  What did that mean? She hadn’t met the last girl. Supposedly she had left the area, leaving no forwarding address.

  “I’ll need you to remove the panties now,” he said, as though he were asking her to pass the salt.

  Her pussy felt instantly naked. He might as well have inserted his fingers into her sopping wet depths.

  She waited for further qualification. Hearing none, she asked, “Shall I go to the bathroom for that, Sir?”

  Mr. Stone finished chewing a small bit of his veal, savoring. “No, Sheila, you may tend to the matter here at the table.”

  She felt woozy. Surely he wasn’t serious? How could she manage to remove her most intimate undergarment in a room full of people?

  “Sir, my modesty...”

  “Modesty is a privilege to a girl in your position,” she was informed. “So is the opportunity to cover your naughty behind. You will hand me the panties at once, or I shall make you very sorry.”

  A whimper escaped her throat. “Yes, Mr. Stone.”

  Sheila’s head was swimming. Her heart was in her throat. Every eye in the restaurant seemed to be on her skin, burning. She tried to wait, hoping for a time when everyone was distracted, when no waiters were about, but she knew she had no choice. Her palms were slippery with sweat. She tried lifting her behind, just a little, working the hem of the dress up from behind, invisibly.

  Oh, god, this was impossible. A dowager at the table next to her was already glaring. A younger man on the other side was trying to look, but his date was forcing him not to.

  She had trouble reaching the panties. She pulled from the bottom. She had to squirm. The dress rode higher. It was bunched at her waist as she worked the panties down over her tingling ass. She couldn’t close her legs completely and manage the front part. As the material came down, she had to show her pussy.

  “If you please,” called Mr. Stone, determined to draw even more attention. “More water for the lady.”

  The server held a sweating, metal pitcher. He was tall, with epaulets on his shoulder and a strong jaw. Looking down, he saw her proffered cleavage, straining with the efforts of her stripping.

  Down came the panties to her ankles.

  “Put them on the table, Sheila. Next to your glass.”

  She stepped from them one foot after the other. They were wet and fragrant. Humiliated, she wadded them and set them down, in plain view of the server. She could see the erection straining his pants.

  “Did you find that fellow attractive?” Mr. Stone asked after he’d left.

  “Yes, Sir.” Her sex lips were burning. She feared she would drip, on her dress, on the seat.

  “How did it make you feel to show him what you are?”

  And what am I? She wondered.

  “I was ashamed, Sir.”

  “Is that all?”

  “It turned me on,” she told him what he wanted to hear.

  “You’re a slut, Sheila. A common tramp.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The insults made her squirm.

  “I may have to reconsider letting you keep your job.”

  Sheila was surrounded by indescribable panic. “Sir, please, I want to be your employee.”

  “I’ll expect much more of you,” he said coldly.

  “I’ll do more.”

  “I won’t be able to treat you as a lady any longer, Sheila, because you aren’t one.”

  “I understand, Sir. I do.”

  What had gotten into her? She was answering by reflex. Why didn’t she just get up and run out of here? He had no grounds to treat her this way, no right whatsoever. A fantasy was one thing, but this reality was quite another. She was being abused, by any standard.

  “You’ve some of your fish left,” he said.

  She took up her knife and fork and resumed eating, panty-less, the scent of her own crotch right under her nose.

  “Would you care for dessert?” one of the waiter’s men inquired.

  “I’ll have a Larnier and coffee.”

  “And for the lady?”

  “I was just considering her order,” said Mr. Stone, speaking of her as though she were a small child. “She would enjoy something rich and creamy, I’m sure, but I’m concerned for her figure. Do you think she should be on a diet?”

  The server pursed his lips, his eyes traveling as they had several times already to the removed lingerie. “I really couldn’t say, Sir.”

  “I wish you would, though. Your opinion is important to me.” Stone’s tone brooked no argument.

  “No, Sir,” the fellow replied stoically. “I do not think she requires a diet.”

  “Her body is adequate, then, as is?”

  Sheila burned with the degradation from her exposed toes to her thinly covered crotch. There was nothing she could do, nothing but sit and endure. She could feel the pressure building between her legs, like Mr. Stone was in there, having his way.

  “The young woman is attractive, Sir, yes.”

  “Sheila, you may thank the man for praising your body.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “You need to enunciate your words, Sheila. Try again.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated; her body on the edge of orgasm.

  “The young woman may have a small dish of ice cream,” pronounced Mr. Stone. “Vanilla.”

  “Very good, Sir.” He bowed and took his leave.

  “Is something the matter, Sheila?”

  Should she tell him?

  “I’m...a little overheated, Sir.” Sheila didn’t dare lie.

  “That’s only natural,” he smiled, “for a girl in your shoes.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You are being dominated; you’re a naturally submissive slut who is being given no choice but to be what she is. You’re an
ticipating your first night of discipline and usage.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stone.”

  “You won’t come, though, will you? Not without permission.”

  “No, Sir.” She clenched her muscles hard, fighting to keep the dam from bursting.

  The coffee arrived and the ice cream, a luscious milky scoop in a silver bowl. She did not dare touch the spoon setting beside it. She would eat at his command and not before.

  “You are a smart girl,” he praised her deference. “You learn quickly.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “But there is a deeper rule you must know. For everything you do to please me, there will come a harder test. This is in part training, but it is also designed to be torture. I expect your diligence, Sheila, but remember, my primary pleasure lies in breaking you down—beware you do not cheat me and end the game too quickly.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She did not understand the implications of his words, except to the extent that he was telling her he would always have the upper hand, keeping her off base no matter what.

  “So you learned not to eat without permission,” he opted to give a concrete example. “You are acclimating. I must now push you harder.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I want you to eat your ice cream, Sheila.”

  She reached for the spoon.

  “Not with your hands,” he stopped her cold. “You may use only your mouth.”

  Her mouth gaped. “You want me to—“

  “To eat it like an animal, yes,” he completed the thought. “And don’t think anyone will stop it happening. I’m a very powerful man. And power buys one lots of leeway where conventions are concerned. And laws, too.”

  “Sir, I can’t. This is going too far.”

  “You can, Sheila,” he said with eerie calmness. “And you will. If not, I will bend you over this table, tan your hide and make you eat the ice cream off the floor, on your hands and knees.”

  She stared in utter shock.

  “Is there any confusion on this point?” He wanted to know.

  “No, Sir,” she replied meekly.

  “Good.” He sipped his coffee. “Let’s get on with it then.”

  Sheila lowered her head toward the dish. She put her tongue out, tentatively. The ice cream was cold and sweet. A teardrop mixed with it, salty and hot. The bra rubbed her nipples.

  “Don’t be shy,” he told her. “I expect it all finished.”

  Sheila used her lips, sucking in with her tongue. Ice cream, down her throat, melting, thick and creamy. Like a man’s come.

  “You look very good that way,” he praised. “Very natural. Are you thinking about sucking my cock?”

  She gulped the dessert, a lump in her throat.

  “I asked you a question.”

  She had to look up at him, the ice cream on her face. “Yes, Sir. I am.”

  “Good girl. Back to work.”

  Sheila lapped obediently.

  “I want the bowl clean,” he said.

  She had to press her breasts to the table. Her nose was inside the dish, like a dog’s snout. Her tongue was working the metal, cleaning, and licking.

  “Make yourself come,” said Jeremy Stone.

  She heard but did not see the waiter there to take his credit card. Shudders passed up and down her spine, electric, sweating shivers as her thighs touched. Rubbing, undulating, and humping the seat as she buried her head.

  The waiter was watching and thinking what? Did Mr. Stone do this sort of thing often? How much did he pay off the restaurant? And what about the other customers?

  Why was no one calling the police? Did she think her a whore, paid for her time, or worse still, some pathetic bimbo who enjoyed being humiliated?

  The orgasm rolled through her, sending spasmic waves from her cunt up to her breasts. She writhed, shamelessly rubbing her nipples on the tablecloth. Her moans escaped into the bowl, soft and desperate. She kissed at the wet metal, craving the sensation.

  I’m a slut, she thought. Coming at the table. Licking a bowl. And enjoying it.

  “That’s enough, Sheila,” he cut her off cruelly. “Sit up, legs separated.”

  She was panting. “Please, Sir...”

  “What is it, girl? Out with it.”

  “I...I need more.”

  His tone scathed. “Are you really that much of a slut, Sheila?”

  “I need you, Sir,” she pleaded. “I need you to take me.”

  “Your needs are of no interest to me, Sheila. You exist for my pleasure. That is a lesson you will come to learn.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Never ask me for anything again,” he menaced. “Do you understand?”

  His eyes were terrifying. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Forgive me, Sir.”

  “You’ll earn forgiveness like the little cunt you are, Sheila. Under the bite of the leather.”

  “Yes, Sir...thank you, Sir.”

  “Take the panties,” Stone instructed. “Dip them in your water glass. Use them to wipe your face and be quick about it.”

  Sheila picked up the underwear, already wet. Wadding it into a ball, she put them in her crystal goblet. He’s making me clean myself, she thought, with my own underwear. Correction, the underwear he loaned me, only to reclaim.

  The silk was feather soft, wickedly moist as she rubbed it over her skin, cleaning off the melted ice cream. She did a thorough job, balling the panties up twice. She could taste her pussy when she did her mouth. A little of the water trickled down her neck, tickling the valley between her breasts, beckoning her pussy to produce another flow of juices.

  She was so fucking horny...

  Stone had no reaction, though he studied her carefully. “You’re done,” he rose to his feet arbitrarily. “We’re leaving.”

  “What about my panties, Sir?”

  “Leave them as a tip.”

  Sheila dropped them on the table, just in time, as Stone took her hand, forcing her to keep his pace. She nearly tripped on her high heels. She was so flustered, weak and needy. He brought her out front. The limo was nowhere to be seen.

  “Around the side,” he said, dragging her down the street.

  “Please, Sir, I can’t keep up.”

  “This would be a very bad time to try my patience, little girl,” he warned.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she gasped, running alongside.

  She broke a heel as he rounded the corner into an alley. “Mr. Stone,” she cried as the shoe gave way.

  Stone muttered a curse and scooped her up into his arms. She felt magic and helpless, deliciously captured. “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

  “You won’t be thanking me for long,” he said.

  The limo was deep in the alley. The chauffer was standing beside it, dutifully waiting. Stone set her down at the rear of the vehicle. Her shoes were uneven on the cold, wet asphalt.

  “Put her in the trunk,” Stone ordered.

  The chauffer pulled a pair of gleaming handcuffs from his jacket pocket. “Hands behind your back,” he told Sheila.

  “Please,” she appealed directly to her boss, no longer caring how whiny or desperate she sounded. “Don’t make me go in there. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Stone’s eyes turned cold and black as onyx. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her towards him. Reaching behind her, he delivered a savage smack to her ass. Twice more he struck her before forcing her down to her knees onto the damp ground, his hand in her hair. He bent her neck back, leaving her breasts achingly vulnerable. He made her suffer like this, on the ground for what felt like an hour.

  “Do you submit?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” she cried. “I do, Sir.”

  “Get up,” he ordered, releasing her.

  Sheila struggled as quickly as she could back to her feet, not wanting to anger him any further. She was miserable enough as it was. The bottom of her dress was damp from the moisture, and she had no idea what he might do next.

  “Never question my orders,” he said, �
�or those of one of my men. You have one job—and that’s obeying.”

  “Yes...Mr. Stone,” she was choking back sobs, her arms folded across her body, hugging her breasts.

  “Hands down,” he ordered. “You’re in no position to deny me access to any part of you.”

  Sheila put her palms to her side, trembling with fear. She flinched as he moved his hand in her direction. He didn’t want to strike her this time—just caress her breast through the dress. “Don’t expect sympathy for your tears,” he told her. “You’re my toy now, and toys aren’t allowed feelings.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she was forced to sigh as he began massaging, lightly, expertly.

  He laughed at her helpless responses. “You’ve no control, have you? I can make you moan and come whether you like it or not. I can manipulate your emotions, use you as I will.”

  “Oh, Mr. Stone...”

  Stone found her nipple, pincering it through the dress and bra. “You’re mine now, Sheila. Can you grasp what that means?”

  “No,” she whispered fiercely, trying to reason through the jagged lines of pain in her brain.

  “Good answer. A female pet like you could never anticipate the significance of her ownership. She can only experience it from one brutal moment to the next.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She ground her teeth, confused and aroused, desperate for him to stop, desperate for him not to stop.

  He grinned in pure sadism. “You may thank me for instructing you, slut.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she acquiesced at once.

  “You may also begin calling me Master,” he added matter of factly, “since you are now officially a slave.”

  Her pussy twinged with invisible fire. So it was true. He really and truly was enslaving her. “Yes, M—master,” she stammered.

  Stone took her second nipple, twisting them both at once. “You will get in the trunk like a good girl when I tell you, won’t you?”

  “Yes...Yes, Master.” The word was hot scandal, searing wickedness off her tongue.

  “In fact, you are eager to obey.”

  She nodded frantically.

  Stone released her nipples, though he held her fast with his eyes. “Take off the dress.”

  Sheila swallowed hard. “Out...out in the open, Master?”

  Stone gave her a look that made her cringe in terror. “Do I have to repeat myself, cunt?”