textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/strapped.txt

"Fuck You!" Melissa said, with a violent jerk of her head, a look that could
kill and in a tone that suggested that she was highly offended.

She was right on both counts, sometime in the next hour I would fuck her,
and yes I made an indecent proposal. I just told Melissa that when I was
through with her she wished she wasn't born.

Melissa didn't arrive at my apartment because she wanted to. She was more or
less forced to surrender to my whims by her provider. Melissa is a kept
woman. Often called a Mistress, but one without whips and chains. I am not a
psychologist or even have a college degree, but the city is overcrowded with
men who maintain a woman (or two) on the side, and young (often not much
older than 18) women who seek out such men to provide for them. 

I tend bar in a major building downtown, the building has a hotel and huge
overpopulated offices. Besides knowing the various drinks, I am a good
listener, and non threatening. Ingredients that make you an anonymous
shoulder to cry out on. Business men, lawyers, and women are al alike. When
they are down they sulk in a glass, and the bartender is there sound board. 

My major fault is that I give advice, more often than not advice that isn't
always thought through. I am also into s/m, and have been since my teenage
years. 

It all started when one of my regulars complained for an hour and a half how
uppity his wife was, and how he had to suppress the urge to punch her. He
was serious and somehow I get serious when somebody is thinking of punching
their wife. I don't believe in "wife-beating", but I do think that corporal
punishment often enrich someone's sex-life. Basically I told the man how I
thought about punching a woman. He protested claiming that I treated Deb, my
female bar-assistant like shit. He even pointed at the leather slapper
hanging next to the cash register. 

The truth was that Deb, and I had an act while we were on duty. An act that
made us both a lot of extra money in tips, and got me almost fired once. I
like to wear leather, and my trade-marks are my leather vest and hat. One
day Deb forgot to re-stock the lemon, I was irritated especially because it
wasn't the first time her memory had lapsed. It was the beginning of happy-
hour and a couple of regulars caught me telling her that after closing I
needed to see her. The regulars began to egg on the both of us. "He is going
to beat your ass!" I heard one say. Deb put fuel on the fire by saying that
my leather was all fake, and that I was a whimp. Typical bar-chatter and I
didn't think anything of it, the regular began to tease me, and so was Deb,
bending over and pushing her petite toush in my side. "I think she wants you
to beat her!" The regular said after a big swig of his beer. When happy hour
was over the bar was still crowded, and somehow the customers were expecting
some kind of action. I was going to ignore it, but Deb whispered in my ear
"Did you see the tip-bucket?" I nodded, it was almost full, and she
continued "Let's give them a show!" and she walked away.

Minutes later she picked up a plastic divider from one of the dishwasher
racks. She held it until I nodded that I understood. Just before "last
round" I told her to bend over and hit her pretty hard with the strip of
flexible plastic. From that moment on with the help of the customers, the
acting ability of Deb, and the size of the tips Deb and I began to build our
master/slave routine. It was strictly an act, we never went out or played
for real, but many customers thought that she was really my slave. 

I talked with the man and explained the difference between wife-beating and
controlled corporal punishment. He left and I more or less forgot the
conversation. Three days later he came in and demonstratively put a fifty on
the bar. 

"Man, you really hit the nail on the head! I spanked her and I spanked her
good! She has been a sex kitten ever since! You saved my marriage!" The man
said or words like it for the whole bar to hear.

A bar is like a soap opera, after the man had told everyone to hear, and Deb
laid on her slave role a little thicker. Everyone was expressing their
opinion about relationships. At one corner of the bar were four female
flight attendants. Three of them were defending women's rights loudly,
almost yelling across the bar. The fourth, a petite, maybe 5'2" and no more
than 80lbs, with big dark brown eyes and long brown hair was quiet. She
stayed out of the conversation, but she followed intently the interaction
between Deb and me. I noticed, because in front of her was a refrigerator
holding the beer that for one reason or the other was popular that day. When
I looked up, she stared me in my eyes. I used my standard line "Are we
having fun yet!" She blushed and without uttering a sound bend her head.
When I walked away, I spotted (with the help of a mirror) that she was
following me with her eyes. 

The flight attendants left and the petite one, almost like a puppy dog
followed them. She had left a $10 tip. Just before closing she was back. She
ordered a coke, and was obviously nervous. With her money she handed me a
note. It said rather bluntly "Will you spank me?" and her room number. When
I turned around after I read the note, she was gone. It was not unusual for
women to come on to the bar-tender, normally I ignored it and try to get
them to focus on a lonely male on the bar. House rules in the hotel were
pretty strict and even though I had a good relationship with the hotel
detective, going up to a customer's room was an absolute no-no for an
employee.

Lisa, her name as I found out later, had hit a sore spot. She reminded me of
a girl in high-school. A girl I had a terrible crush on, but because I was
from the wrong side of the track, had absolutely no interest in me. In my
fantasies I often used her as the recipient of a sound trashing. The note
asking for a spanking was too much to ignore. 

My love life was (by choice) rather dull and consisted of a carousel of
women, and was based strictly on getting laid and for the women a shoulder
to cry out on. Some intrigued by my leathers, would indulge in bondage or
other s/m related fore-play. I wasn't a "catch", in my mid forties, pudgy,
bolding and with limited attributes below the waist, I was well aware that
the sex often was considered as "payment" for being able to cry out on my
shoulder. The women interested in the kinky side, used me because I was
"safe", meaning somehow they figured me as a "dirty old man" who wasn't
possessive. They could have their fun with me, and go on with their life. 

I waited till after closing and called the room number, Lisa answered, her
voice (I can't describe it) went straight to my dick. Initially I was going
to tell her that maybe it wasn't such a good idea, but instead, I explained
that I couldn't come to her room but if she was still interested she could
come to my apartment in an hour. I gave her the address and told her to take
a cab. Lisa sounded disappointed, but she assured me that she would show.

With mixed emotions I climbed in a cab myself, and went home. From
experience (or superstition) I had learned to expect nothing. If she showed
fine, but if she didn't I hadn't wasted an hour cleaning the place or
dousing myself with cologne and build up expectations, while waiting for the
doorbell or phone to ring. Instead I did my normal routine, but Lisa was in
the back of my mind. 

To my own surprise Lisa showed, when I opened the door, she looked at me,
her deep brown eyes filled with expectation. I had expected apprehension,
maybe fear, but there was none that showed. In her hand she carried a bag,
which she handed to me. I closed the door turned around and Lisa followed me
in the room.

She stopped in the middle of the room, like a girl send to the principal's
office, she stopped, not knowing what to do next. Her head down, her fingers
played nervously on her side. Lisa was conservatively dressed, preppie like.
A green sweater covered a white blouse, her skirt was short but not tight.
Except for the missing knee high white socks and the patent leather shoes,
Lisa looked like a 8th grader in an english boarding school. 

This was new to me, generally my dates first went through the bedroom, the
s/m came later. I didn't know anything about Lisa, except that she wanted a
spanking. I left her standing, sat down on the couch and opened the bag in
search of clues. It contained a variety of s/m implements. She had asked for
a spanking, and the contents of the bag proved that she wasn't kidding. It
contained a leather paddle, a riding crop, a real barber's strap and a real
cane. I was surprised to find rope, nipple clamps, clothes-pins, vibrators,
dildo's and even KY jelly. There was also an envelope addressed to
"Bartender". I put it aside, somehow in the presence of Lisa I became vain.
I need glasses for reading. Also the bag gave me enough clues, I was afraid
that the envelope contained a scenario. I am not an actor, and if there was
a need for a scenario, it would be mine. The memories of the stuck up bitch
in high-school gave me enough to play on.

Lisa had followed me with her eyes, she inhaled my body language while I
inspected the bag. I didn't say a word, when it was empty and it's contents
displayed on my coffee table, I had a smile on my face. Lisa responded with
a little nervous smile of her own.

"Get naked!" I ordered, Lisa looked from me to the envelope and back, panic
in her eyes. Obviously getting naked right away wasn't in her scenario. I
grinned when my eyes caught hers. Her head went down again, and with a sigh
she began to pull the sweater over her head. She was uncomfortable
stripping, there was little sensuality in her moves, but that added a
dimension that was highly appreciated in my groin. My dick was pulsating,
and my breathing was getting heavier. Lisa was too busy with her own
emotional state to notice (I think), after the sweater was thrown on a chair
next to where she was standing, she began to fumble with the blouse. When
she took it off, it revealed a petite black leather bra. Lisa didn't have
much in the chest department, but the bra accentuated the little she had
perfectly. 

Before she unzipped her skirt, she gave me a quick glance. I nodded
approvingly, she responded with a slight blush. She wiggled the skirt down
her legs, revealing an attractive leather garter belt and what is best
described as a minuscule pair of leather panties. It was expensive leather,
supple and literally an extension of her smooth skin. I was ready to pick
her up and carry her into the bedroom for a serious fucking, although I
doubted if I last very long. Lisa sighed before she unsnapped her bra. Her
tiny breasts were perfect, her nipples proportional in size, but they were
like her breasts, firm and sticking out. She sighed again, before she began
fumbling with the garter snaps. One by one she rolled her stockings down,
even today when I close my eyes I visually recall the moment. She was almost
nude, and I was afraid of cumming in my pants. Another sigh and her hands
slipped under the band of her panties. Slowly she moved them down, revealing
her dark bush, she wiggled them down her legs and stepped out of them
slightly crouched. Lisa's hands went to cover her pussy, but at the last
moment she stopped and placed them on her side. Her head was directed to the
floor.

I stood up, picked up the crop, and began the inspection. The crop was more
a prop than a punishment device. I touched her tiny toush with my hand. Lisa
was charged, she jumped and squeaked on the touch. I knew that I needed a
release fast. I was tempted to force her to her knees and shove my dick in
her mouth, but it was too early, at least for her. After I caressed her
behind, it almost fitted in my hand, I allowed my finger to wander in her
crease, when I touched her rosette, she squeaked and jumped again. Slowly my
finger made it's way to her pussy, the close it came the heavier her
breathing became. When my finger split her lips apart she sighed and like a
load was lifted off her shoulder she relaxed, allowing me easy entry inside
her. I played with her clit until she was moaning loudly and my other hand
had to hold her belly or she would have lost her balance. Abruptly I
withdrew my finger, somehow her moaning and my concentration on her clit had
relieved some of the pressure in my own pants. I lifted her up and carried
her to the couch, where I draped her over my lap. I began to spank her, the
redness that formed on her behind worked like a red flag on a bull. I became
more aggressive with each slap, I really hit her hard. Lisa's leg was
kicking up, I had to restrain her free arm, with the other she kept her
balance. Her screams were muffled, the pitch getting higher with each slap.
She was riding her pussy on my knees, her animal like pre-orgasmic sounds
drove me to the edge. When I couldn't stand it any longer, and my dick was
violently fighting inside my pants, I threw her off my lap, opened my zipper
and slipped it on. "Suck cunt! Suck!" I barked hoarsely.

In seconds I released my load, I never forget her mascara & tear stained
look when she swallowed the cumm. I wasn't done yet, the fun was just
beginning. With my sexual pressure gone, and Lisa in a preorgasmic state, we
could begin to get serious about Lisa's punishment. The nipple-clamps and
the clothespins were too tempting to ignore, and before I gave her seconds
on her amazingly tiny butt, I had her sit up straight, and picked up the
nipple-clamps from the table. Lisa grabbed her underlip with her teeth when
(with a grin) I attached the first clamp on her firm nipple. Somehow, since
she swallowed my cumm, her embarrassment had peaked, she wasn't looking at
the floor anymore, instead she looked me in the eyes. She communicated with
her eyes, expressing fear, when I brought the clamp. Fear that was replaced
with disappointment when I hesitated for a second, anticipation when the
clamps was open and she could feel the steel, agony when it bit in her
tender nipple flesh, relief when the instant pain faded away. When I picked
up the second clamp, she wetted her lips with her tongue, tilted her head
slightly and pushed her breast forward. Her eyes displaced uncensored lust.
Slowly the clamp was placed over the nipple, her eyes begged me to place it,
but she yelped when instead of slowly allowing the clamp to slowly bite her
nipple, I let it snap on to her other nipple with the full force of the
spring. Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, she gritted her teeth, when she
opened them again she flashed a mocking look at me. I just smiled and
ordered her to stand up, she sighed but obeyed. "Spread your legs!" Was my
next command. She did while giving me a wondering look. I grabbed the
clothespins from the table and decorated her pussy lips. Her pussy was wet,
each time I touched it she moaned, each time a clothespin bit her lips, she
squirmed. Somehow her sexual motor was working, and each time a foreign
subject (my fingers or the pins) touched her pussy the accelerator wash
pushed. Although initially I didn't intend to place a pin on her clit, her
moans and groans convinced me that it would add to her pleasure. When the
pin closed around her clit she yelped like a cat in heat.

I didn't waist any time, I pointed her to kneel, grabbed her neck, forced
her to turn 45 degrees and forced her nose on the floor. I grabbed the
leather paddle from the coffee table and began to hit her ass, with my own
sexual pressure gone, I was more controlled. The blows were still hard, but
I studied Lisa's body language. It was almost a ritual the way she moved.
First she present her ass. I mean she would stick it up high, almost begging
for the next smack. After impact her ass would sink almost onto her legs,
until the clothespins on her pussy lips would touch flesh. She would wail,
like a belly dancer shake her body, as if to maximize the discomfort of the
clothespins on her pussy and the nipple clamps on her nipples. Next her ass
would rise again for another blow.  Her "ritual" aroused me as well and my
dick was once again swelling in my pants. I hit her tiny behind black and
blue until her cries were indicating an orgasm was on the horizon. I stopped
and brought my hand between her legs. I played with the pins, each touch
setting off another wave of animalistic sounds. She came violently, both in
sound and action. She turned over, knocking over the coffee table, her leg
pushing her body of the floor, while she had her spasm's I kept my hand
manipulating the clothespin on her clit. When the orgasm began to ebb away I
stopped, turned her over again and took a dab of KY jelly and penetrated her
from the back. Her ass was tight, but willing, when I was mounted I grabbed
both her breasts and pushed her back and forth over my dick. It didn't take
long or Lisa was back to moaning and I felt another orgasm coming myself.
Her explosion set off my own, I held her against me until the storm inside
her had passed. Together we climbed the couch, where she put her arms around
me, her head on my shoulder and cradled her legs around my legs. I could
feel the nipple clamps through my clothes pushing in my skin, the
clothespins on her pussy did the same to my leg. We laid together for a
couple of minutes, Lisa was literally purring, ever so often pushing her
body tighter against mine. I could feel her heart beating, we both calmed
down in each other's arms. When she loosened the grip on my body I wiggled
one hand near her pussy and with the other grabbed one nipple clamp. While
manipulating the clothespin on her clit, I released the one's on her
nipples. Lisa sighed, but didn't make a sound. Next I removed the
clothespins on her pussy lips. The one on her clit remained until all the
others were gone. I had been rather gentle, but the final one I ripped off.
Lisa yelped, jumped and kissed me on the cheek. 

She got up, butt naked she put the coffee table back, placed the implements
back in the bag, picked up the envelope and placed it back on the coffee
table, while giving me a sly look. I felt like I was in heaven, in a semi
comatose state I watched her do the chores, while smoking a cigarette. She
disappeared in the kitchen, I heard water running and the clatter of dishes.
She came back with two steaming cups of tea, smiled and placed one in front
of me. The other she took, together with her bundle of clothes into the
bathroom. I sipped my tea, and finally dozed off. I woke up when Lisa was
playing with the little hair I had left, a deep appreciative smile on her
face, she gave me a kiss.
"I called a cab! I just want to thank you, you are a terrific master! I hope
you will allow me to come back!" She said, with her deep brown eyes
displaying satisfaction and content. Her tone was light, and each sentence
she spoke had an exclamation point. 
She took the empty cups to the kitchen, when she returned another
appreciative smile and she was gone.

I dozed off and didn't wake up until the sun was piercing my eyes. For a
moment I thought I had dreamed the episode with Lisa. But the envelope was
still on the coffee table. I got up to take a leak, in lipstick the mirror
said "I feel so good! Thanks, one thousand thanks! - Lisa." 

After I made a pot of coffee, Lisa hadn't just made tea, she had done the
dishes as well. I picked up the envelope and opened it. I was right there
was a scenario, but it described pretty much the way we played. I had left
out the ropes and the vibrator, but I had compensated with the paddling.
Lisa wrote in her note "I know what a spanking feels like, but the men
somehow were afraid to hit me really hard. I don't know if I like it, and
kind of scared to ask for it, but maybe you could give me a couple of hard
ones with the paddle or the strap." Also Lisa's scenario started with a
fully dressed spanking, because she was clumsy when she made me something to
drink. When I returned the note to the envelope, I noticed a fifty dollar
bill. Somehow it didn't shock me, nor was there a "puppy-love" feeling in my
gut for Lisa. I didn't mind when she left last night, I wasn't even curious
about where she was from or if I would ever see her again. Over the years,
and after a couple of intense relationships that exploded in my face, I had
hardened. Actually I felt proud that I didn't fall in love with Lisa, or
that I didn't feel a twang of hurt when I discovered she had paid me. 

Somehow people that work in the restaurant/hotel/bar trade, like cops have
their own diners and bars. After shaving, and taking a shower I went out and
took a cab to my diner. It's my regular routine, reading papers, flirting
with the waitresses and last but not least eating breakfast. There are
always a couple of bar-maids and other trade people around (including some
hookers). Because I'm older and as one once told me "unthreathening", the
girls have a habit of sliding in my booth and telling me there everyday
problems and adventures. Today was no exception.

Jamie a 20 year young pretty brunette, who was a waitress at a restaurant in
a downtown hotel, slid in the booth. Ignoring the fact that I was reading
the newspaper, she began to talk about her lousy job, her asshole boyfriend
and went on explaining that what she did was the same as a hooker. "Sucking
up to the dining guests to get a decent tip, and spreading her legs for her
boyfriend, and faking an orgasm when he had pounded her enough." She
continued "The difference is that I make $200 a week and the slut two booths
down over $1000!" 

"Become a hooker!" I responded flippantly. "No!" Jamie said forcefully, "I
thought of it, but I don't want to catch no disease, or spent nights in
jail!"

"So, that's why she makes over a $1000 and you $200!" I answered, still not
getting into the conversation. Jamie was silent for a couple of minutes, the
waitress brought my breakfast and when I began to eat, Jamie leaned over
conspiritually.

"Jack, aren't there men that keep a woman in a nice apartment. Use her when
they feel like it and give her a nice check every week!" Jamie whispered.

While swallowing my food, I nodded "Yes!" and when I was able to talk added
"Sure, you just have to find one that is looking, and a man like that
wouldn't want boyfriends around!"

Jamie looked like she was in deep thought, than said "I don't need a
boyfriend!"

I shrugged and took another bite. Jamie was searching for words. She began
to talk haltingly "Jack, you get lot's of men like that in your bar. Don't
you?" I shrugged again and said "You want me fired!" Jamie sighed and fell
back in the booth, looking desperately. A minute later she crawled out of
the booth, without saying goodbye.

When I arrived at work, the daytime bartender smiled and said "I think you
got a love letter! A cute stew dropped this off and described you as the one
to give it too!" I took it and put it in my pocket. The day was uneventful,
the bar was busy and I forgot about the note until I got ready to go to
sleep. It was a letter telling me once again how much she had enjoyed our
encounter. She would be back the next week, and couldn't wait for an other
date. I hadn't been too heavy, and maybe I could get a little rougher.

A couple of days later, the man who I had suggested to spank his wife was
back and once again extolled how much she had changed since he had taken her
over her lap. Mr. Best was on the bar, he brought his "kept-woman", Melissa
a tall red-head in her mid twenties. Mr. Best didn't make no bones about the
fact that Melissa was his slut, and he treated her like that. In his late
fifties, having had a couple of heart-attacks he was rather up front about
being unable to satisfy Melissa. I knew Melissa since she was a hooker,
somehow she got caught up in some criminal matter and she did time. On
probation, and with a record she hadn't dared to go back in the trade. I
assumed Mr. Best was a client, and she had taken him up on his offer to
become his mistress. Mr. Best (nobody ever used his first name), was
listening intently to the guy who was talking about his spanked and changed
wife. 

"I wished I was 20 years younger, and I would tan Melissa's hide!" Mr. Best
said, while Melissa's eyes spat fire. He went on explaining how Melissa was
disrespectful and how she was sleeping with men behind his back. I stayed
out of the conversation, except for observing Melissa through the mirror,
she was blushing and moving uncomfortable on the barstool. Mr. Best ignored
her, and Deb, who hates stuck up bitches like Melissa, stopped what she was
doing and expressed concern with Mr. Best's health and his trouble with his
Mistress. I don't know what was said exactly, because I was on the other end
of the bar. When they left, Mr. Best asked me if I mind having lunch with
him the next day, without waiting for an answer he mentioned a restaurant
and a time and shuffled away with Melissa in tow.

Deb didn't say a word, only smiled mischievously and over acted her part as
my "slave". Although I was annoyed about the lunch date, Mr. Best's tips
were good and a free lunch was something this broken down bartender didn't
throw away easily. The next day I showed at the restaurant at the
appropriate time, the Maitre D escorted me to a semi private booth. Mr. Best
was alone, he wasn't a man of many words and he came right to the point.
"Your assistant tells me that you are a real disciplinarian, and that you
can be trusted. I need to take steps to deal with Melissa, she is getting
out of hand. I have thought about cutting her off, but somehow I care about
her and starting a new relationship is like having to potty train a puppy. I
am getting to old for that! The man on the bar, told me how his wife
responded to a good sound spanking, I wish I had the strength to administer
one on Melissa's behind!" 

A waiter appeared, halting Mr. Best's words. We ordered lunch and when I
wanted to say something, he shut me up and continued "Let me finish what I
have to say! As I said before your assistant told me that you tanned her
hide from time to time and how much good it did!" He paused, while I had to
bite my lip "Damn Deb, you are taking this too far!" I thought but didn't
open my mouth to deny Deb's fabricated story.

"Now, I have invested rather much money in Melissa, and I hate to see it go
to waist. Of course I will enumerate you generously if you would take it
upon yourself to discipline my Melissa!"

I had seen the question coming, but it still hit me like a brick. Before
Lisa and Jamie I would have turned Mr. Best down flatly. Somehow I didn't
and I took his proposal seriously. In principal I agreed with Deb that
Melissa was a stuck up bitch, and I really wouldn't mind teaching her a
lesson. We talked for a while and I heard myself demand things, that I never
thought was possible off. When we shook hands and Mr. Best handed me an
envelope, it was agreed that Melissa would be given the choice, submit or
move on down the road. Mr. Best was less worried about cutting Melissa off,
after I had told him that I knew of a possible prospect. I described Jamie
to him, and he nodded approvingly. Mr. Best told the waiter to get Melissa,
who had been waiting on the bar.

Mr. Best was forceful when he explained to Melissa what we had discussed.
Initially she was feisty, her eyes wandering between Mr. Best and myself,
not believing what she was hearing. The next phase were threats, she would
get me fired, and expose Mr. Best for what he really was. Somehow it didn't
impress either of us. Slowly she realized that Mr. Best wasn't kidding, I
assume a plan began to make shape in her head, because she agreed to all the
terms, and was willing to go Mr. Best to his attorney and sign the release
forms.

It was getting late, and I rushed out of the restaurant to my job. The still
sealed envelope in my pocket and a "date" with Melissa at my apartment for
10 AM the next morning. Mr. Best inititialy wanted me to do it at Melissa's
apartment, but I had insisted on mine. Also I discouraged him from being
present while the punishment was going on. The rules were simple, for at
least one hour I would punish and humiliate Melissa, there were no
limitations. I could do what ever I deemed necessary. In case Melissa didn't
cooperate, a lock-smith was on call to change the locks. One phone call from
me would lock Melissa out of her apartment.

In the cab I opened the envelope, it contained $500. Deb and I arrived at
the same time. "When was the last time I tanned your hide?" I asked with a
straight face. "Asshole!" she said      don't believe everything I say!" She
smiled and the subject was closed.

The every day bar routine took my mind off what was to come, except for
heading off the advances of an obvious tipsy woman, nothing out of the
ordinary happened. I had the cab drop me off at the after hours bar. I don't
drink, but that bar is like a home away from home. It was the place to pick
up a one night stand, I was worried that Melissa with all her experience
would be able to manipulate me sexually. A good roll in the hey, before
Melissa showed, I figured, would help build up enough defenses. Kim was
sitting on the bar, in her mid thirties, she had four kids which she raised
alone. She wasn't a beauty, or a party girl. Kim liked her drinks, she
wasn't completely sober when I slid on a stool next to her. "What are you
doing here?" I asked to start the conversation. "I need to get laid!" She
said loud enough for every one to hear. "I think you need to get spanked
first!" I said quietly. After a swig of her beer and deep sigh she said
"That would be nice." 

Kim is from the south, she speaks with a heavy country accent. Her outfits
are provocative, black leather skirts, vests and boots. Her nipples are
pierced and she doesn't make bones about having been a biker mama. Boyfriend
and father of her four kids were long gone, she worked the midday shift in a
diner frequently primarily by truckers. She ran a little ad as a female
dominant and had a select clientele. The way she was dressed and the bills
she used to pay for her drinks, I assumed she had just completed a session.
Running into Kim was a bonus, she had a big bag with s/m toys, toys I
sometimes used on her, but I would like to borrow for my encounter with
Melissa.

"You got your toy bag with you?" I asked
"Yeah, why?" She asked

"I like to borrow it!"

"No way, you haven't been nice to me lately!" She answered without looking
up.

"Fuck you, I haven't seen you in days!" I replied mockingly

"That's the problem you haven't fucked me in days, and now you want to
borrow my bag, probably you use it on one of those twits!" She motioned with
her head at a table where four gorgeous girls who worked at a singles bar
were drinking.

"If you get your ass off that stool, I promise I'll fuck you and even use
some of your toys on your own lazy ass!" 

Kim looked up, a twinkle in her eye, jumped off the chair and said "Where
are we waiting for!"

Playing with Kim is first a sexual experience, second an s/m encounter. It's
not that she doesn't like the pain, it's more that she needs sex a lot. She
explained once that her sessions with submissive males are too controlled,
she has to be the dominant, the one in charge. When she has sex, she wants
to be able to let her self go. In the cab, her hand immediately disappeared
in my pants, she played with my dick until we got to my apartment building.
Upstairs she dragged me into the bedroom, and with her fingers and her mouth
she began to attack my clothes. I did the same with her's, in less than a
minute we were both naked, and rolling on the bed. I would pinch her
nipples, pull her ear, scratch her pussy, while her hands would hold on to
my dick. We would end up fucking, she on top riding me, while I slapped her
breasts and ass with my hand. She would explode and I crawl from under her,
get up and get a long cat-o-nine and begin to whip her while the convulsions
were still raging through her body. Like a snake she would crawl and turn
absorbing each lash with little squeaky noises. When the orgasm had ebbed
away, she lay silent, I keep on whipping, and Kim start moaning softly and
finger fuck herself. Slowly while her sexual tension begins to mount, she
starts moving again. Rhythmic to the tune of the whip, her moans becoming
louder. When she was getting close to a second orgasm, I stop the whipping,
cradle over her and jack off on her face, while pulling on her nipple rings.
I spurt my wad on her cheeks, in her eyes and on her hair. While I get off
her she uses her hands to rub the cum into her pores. From her bag I
retrieve a vibrator egg and into her pussy. Kim purrs, lift her legs and
keeps them wide. I climb back on her and plant my ass in her face, while she
licks my asshole I use a small flexible paddle and begin beating her cunt. I
won't stop until she reaches another orgasm. For the rest of the night we
cuddle, she telling stories about positions and punishment, if she comes up
with a good one we try it out. Usually we play till three or four o'clock in
the morning, we shower together and she slips out.

Years ago I had a crush on Kim, if anyone had an effect of my s/m lifestyle
it was her. We dated for a couple of months, but it became clear that I
wasn't her biker and that I wasn't really ready to take on her four brats.
We stayed friends, and once every other month we have a session like the one
above. This morning after we showered and both were puffing on a cigarette,
waiting for the cab. Kim demonstratively put her bag down, and said, with a
twinge of jealousy and sarcasm dripping from her mouth "I hope you have fun
with your little dish!" Her reaction surprised me, I was convinced that our
get togethers were convenient for both of us and nothing more. Obviously Kim
felt differently.

I was exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately, only to come back to the
living with a call from Mr. Best, telling me that Melissa was on her way. It
was 9:30, I had to rush, coffee, a shower, getting dressed and picking up
after Kim (Kim wasn't as neat as Lisa). The doorbell surprised me, the
coffee just finished percolating, and I had smoked only half a cigarette.

I burned my mouth trying to swallow some hot coffee, took a drag from the
cigarette and went to open the door. Melissa was dressed to a T, an
expensive conservative red dress with a high collar and a length that
covered her knees. Matching heels and appropriate real jewelry. She looked
at me like a master looks at his servant, she was agitated and there was no
evidence that she comprehended what would happen to her the next hour. She
stepped inside and I closed the door behind her.

She stood, completely in control of herself, absorbing my humble living
room. Obviously she didn't approve of my taste in interior decoration. I
didn't care, and to build a little momentum, I took an other sip from my
coffee, and lit another cigarette. Melissa hadn't moved, nor had doom set in
her eyes. The stop at my place in Melissa's mind was just a slight
annoyance, like having to pick up your dry-cleaning. Just when she began to
speak. I told her to strip. First she looked at me as if she hadn't heard
what I just said, when I repeated my order adding that I wanted to see her
butt naked in less than a minute, she began a controlled tirade.

"Are you out of your mind?" She said in a hautain voice. I didn't answer, to
make her understand where my mind was I fetched a riding crop from Kim's
bag. She looked at it, her eyes expressed a flash of fear, but her demeanor
didn't change. 

"Look, I pay you $500 dollars!" She said, convinced that I was for sale.

I nodded my head in disapproval and hit the air with the crop. The swooshing
sound made Melissa close her eyes for a second. She hissed,"OK, jerk $1000"

I walked closer, took a drag from my cigarette, swooshed the whip a long her
side, without hitting her and blew the smoke in her face. Melissa's
confidence was melting fast, but she hadn't given up yet. "Ok I'll let you
fuck me!" 

In her uppity voice the word "fuck" sounded funny. This was the moment when
I explained that I had every intention to fuck her, but not before I had
punished her and fulfilled my commitment to Mr. Best.

"Strip!" I ordered again. Melissa stumped her feet like a 5 year old. The
confidence and superiority had vanished from her eyes. Her whole demeanor
expressed desperation. I had to pick up the phone, and threaten her that if
she wasn't naked and on her knees in 2 minutes I would make the call to the
lock smith.

She wasted another 30 seconds to a minute hissing and contemplating before
she finally began to pluck on the buttons of her dress. She didn't hurry,
and it took another swoosh with the cat and a move towards the telephone
before her lace panties and bra came down. I have to admit her nude body
distracted me, in her mid twenties, aging had began to set in but the slight
fat deposits and slightly drooping breasts made her look sophisticated and
mature. I was surprised to see that she was shaven, a pleasant surprise
actually. Melissa was naked but she wasn't broken, and when she spotted that
I was taken with her body, immediately she started her bribe tactics again.
"Come on Jack! We'll just have a good time in bed?" She spoke sensually,
fake lust in her voice, her eyes hopeful while she licked her lips. I lashed
out, and hit her on her upper thighs. She jumped, cursed and tried to kill
me with her eyes. The hit was more to get me out of my trance than to get
Melissa to surrender. She sulked, rubbed the welt, and refused to get on her
knees. This time I hit her for her sake. She knelt, and I made her crawl to
the middle of the room. Her behind was full and voluptuous, the opposite
from Lisa's. It was milk-white and virgin, not a pimple or freckle on it. 

I positioned myself to the side of her and ordered "Count and thank me for
each time I hit you! You'll get one for each second you were late getting
naked!" I didn't tell her how many seconds, but it was around 25. Depending
on how smooth the paddling went, I would adjust the amount of strokes.

After three strokes with the riding crop, Melissa was howling, I had to
repeat one stroke because Melissa forgot to thank me. The four strokes had
left four distinctive welts of her buns. I didn't think it smart to continue
using the crop, in fear that when I was through there would be nothing left
I dug up a wooden sorority paddle that Kim had assured me stung like hell
and would remind you of a paddling for days. 

Melissa cursed and moaned, and her wiggle was almost sensual, but she did
count and even managed to thank me for each stroke. The fifteenth stroke was
extra severe. Melissa screamed and called me a mother-fucker, she refused to
take any more. She got up off the floor, and in a huff began to get dressed.
I actually dialed the number, although she thought, in reality I dialed the
number of a friend who I knew wasn't home. I held the horn to Melissa's
ears, after another foot stumping she dropped the clothes and after a look
that could kill went back in position. Sarcastically I informed her that I
had lost the count and we had to start over again. Things didn't go smooth,
I had lost some of my patience, and took it out on her ass by hitting her
much harder than the first time. Melissa screamed, she danced, she cried. At
least four times I had to repeat the stroke, she did count and she did thank
me for each one, but often I had to prod and threaten before she got the
words over her lips. Around stroke 15 her attitude changed, she became quiet
and although she still squirmed each time I hit her, the screaming was
replaced by an almost continuous sob. She was crying, Melissa wasn't
shedding crocodile tears. Her agony and pain was real, her resistance
broken.

Somehow Melissa's tears didn't invoke any sympathy on my end, no the
opposite was true. Melissa personified the type of woman I despised, not
that she was a kept woman or that she sold herself. But her attitude, the
way she ordered people around (including Deb and myself), forgetting where
she was coming from. I feared that if I gave her a break her attitude would
act up again, so after the paddling, I grabbed her hair from the back and
pulled her up, now she was sitting on her knees. Before I released the
pressure on her head, with my other hand I fished a nipple clamp from the
bag and while walking in front of her, roughly planted it on thick left
nipple. She shrieked, and the sobbing became louder, adding a few howls from
time to time. The firs clamp in place I dug up a second one, she struggled.
I dropped the clamp, I slapped her cheek. Something I would never do during
a regular session, but I had suppressed the urge more than once in the bar.
Somehow the face slap released some of my own pressure, and it literally
shocked Melissa. Now she offered her other nipple. The clamp in place, I
dragged her by her hair to the couch. I was bare-foot, in need of a
cigarette and caffeine. I sat down and placed my hand in Melissa's neck.
"Suck bitch! Suck!" I demanded, while pushing her face in my feet. I had to
bang her nose a couple of times, but finally I felt her tongue on my toes.
Keeping one hand in her neck, I fetched a cigarette.

I needed both hands to drink coffee and smoke at the same time, but somehow
without the pressure on Melissa's neck, the sucking was to say the least
lack-luster. I remembered one night experimenting with a shock box. Kim had
gotten it as a gift from a client, and after assuring me how scared she was
of electricity, and telling me that it wouldn't be fair to use it on another
client, without knowing how it felt. It was one of those nights were Kim had
worn me out, I had no intention to do any more playing. Kim can be
persistent and before I knew it she was jumping up and down in the bed, and
when I turned around she had hooked the clips to her pussy lips, and
inserted the metal rod inside her asshole. Kim was on her knees, her head in
the pillow, the box in her hand, but she couldn't get herself to push the
button on the box. I was half awake, but the sight of Kim, with wires
hanging from her holes woke me fast. Kim handed me the box, and while she
closed her eyes tight I pushed the button. Kim jumped, cursed and said damn
that.... She didn't finish the sentence because I jolted her again. Later,
after she called me every name in the book, she told me that the electricity
left a burning sensation, but that it wasn't as bad as she had first thought
it would be.

I grabbed the box from the bag, put my cigarette down and ordered Melissa to
stand up and spread her legs. She obeyed eagerly, licking toes wasn't her
favorite past time, I guess. The odor from her pussy was strong, I never
thought my treatment of her would turn her on. I felt my dick grow inside my
pants. Melissa was looking away, she didn't respond when my hand felt
between her legs, she squirmed a little when I forced a finger in her moist
pussy. I don't know if she watched me take the first clip and place it on
her pussy lip. When it bit her, she pulled back more from surprise than
pain. The second clip didn't go unobserved or without comment "What the fuck
are you doing?" She yelped, trying to put some authority in her voice. I
ignored her, and through her legs took the steel rod to her asshole. She
used her muscles to keep her anus closed. Melissa screamed when I prodded
with one hand, and with the other pushed the button. Her muscles relaxed and
the probe slid inside her dark hole.

"On your knees!" I ordered, while pushing the button again. Melissa obeyed
fast. Although at the moment I didn't realize it, but Melissa's resistance
was primarily verbal. She fought the probe going in her ass, but once it was
there she didn't rip the wires. Her eyes and frowns made it absolutely clear
that she was highly perturbed, the words coming from her mouth spelled doom
as well. I wondered later what she was really thinking, at the time her
expressed anger and wet pussy only encouraged me in what I was doing to her.


Melissa was pretty, her tear stained make up and bewildered hair only added
to her beauty. Being face to face, Melissa on her knees, and I on the couch,
my dick wasn't only hard it was throbbing from excitement. When I told her
to open my zipper she hesitated just long enough to have me push the button.
It was obvious Melissa had fished for dick before, the feel of her fingers
on my already highly excited organ, only increased the lust I was feeling. I
didn't object when Melissa did the obvious and took my thing in her mouth.
It was almost funny, sex and giving pleasure was Melissa's specialty and she
was in her element. I think she thought that by giving me a quick orgasm,
she would be off the hook. I pushed the button again, she bit my dick in a
reflex. She didn't brake the skin and it didn't really hurt, but it gave me
a reason to get irate again. I pushed her away roughly. Pushed the button
three times, Melissa jumped three times, her tits bouncing. I put the box
down and grabbed her clamped nipples. I squeezed hard. Melissa yelped and
cursed at the same time. 

"Young lady!" I began in a stern voice "I don't think you understand!" and
after a pause and another button push "You are here to be punished! Put your
nose in the carpet and wait till I get back." My last words were accentuated
by another jolt in her pussy and her asshole. She bent forward, until her
nose touched the floor. 

A friend bought me once a gallon sized glass, it came with  proportionate
glass straw. It was meant as decoration, but Kim's wicked mind had given it
an alternative use. Around a year ago, Kim had been stupid, she got drunk
and was thrown in jail for disorderly conduct. I had bailed her out, but I
was pissed and Kim was still in a semi-stupor. In my apartment I had ripped
her clothes off, tied her to the bed and literally beat the shit out of her
with a belt. She had puked and I had left her tied down in her own puke and
kept an eye on her. The next morning she didn't remembered a thing, except
that she was bound, her body on fire from the strapping and her face covered
with puke. I needed a new mattress, she hadn't been able to control her
blather. To make a long story short, I was angry and tired, and felt Kim
should be taught a lesson she would remember. Kim was moaning how thirsty
she was, she was begging for a glass of water. Instead I peed in the glass,
released Kim from her bonds, threw her on the floor, pulled her on her knees
and placed the glass with the straw in front of her. I had to repeat the
earlier strapping, and I praised my landlord for giving me an almost sound
proof apartment. Finally Kim after cursing and taken a pretty good beating
with my belt drank the fluids from the glass. It had turned me on beyond
belief, watching Kim's contracted face while she sucked on the glass straw.

It was now Melissa's turn to drink my juices, I retrieved the glass and
released myself in the glass. Melissa's eyes were following me, but I don't
think she comprehended what I was planning. When I was done, I picked up the
control box and pushed the button. Melissa jumped, but her nose landed back
on the floor. "Crawl!" I ordered "Over here!" Melissa slowly began to move,
another jolt increased her effort. When she was at my feet, she looked up.
"Asshole or something worse" was what her eyes told me. I replied in kind
with a smile.

I stepped back, crouched, in one hand the zapper and took the straw in my
hand and guided it to her mouth. She closed her eyes and demonstratively
closed her mouth. Another jolt in her pussy and ass did the trick. She
opened and I guided the straw in side. "Suck!" I ordered, again a shock was
required to get result. The first fluid entered her mouth and her taste-
butts. She uttered a sound of disapproval, and momentarily stopped the
drinking. The shocks in her pussy were rapid and she began sucking again. I
walked behind her and began to thrust the electrical probe in and out of her
ass-hole. Melissa began to tighten her ass muscle and her body began to
squirm. Between sucking on the straw, she moaned softly. The squirming and
the moaning most definitely weren't out of despair. She was enjoying the
action in her ass!

I fished a vibrator from Kim's bag and after spitting on it and removing the
electrical probe, twisted it inside Melissa's dark hole. First she kept her
ass-muscle closed but when I turned on the vibrator, she relaxed and almost
sucked it up. I shoved it as deep as I could. Melissa was groaning, her body
cooperating with the intrusion. Her fun didn't last long. Kim had a long
cat-o-nine, I stood up and began to whip Melissa's back. Under the lashes of
the whip, Melissa kept on drinking. Somehow the vibrator inside her ass had
her under a spell, there was no fighting, only moaning and slight yelps to
express the discomfort of certain fanatic lashes of the whip. The situation
had an overwhelming effect on my dick. I was ready to poke her, but I waited
until she sucked the last drip from the glass. 

As in a trance she kept on sucking on the straw, making gurgling sounds in
the empty glass. I didn't wait, stepped out of my pants, removed the shit
stained dildo from her ass, took the straw out of her mouth and replaced it
with the dildo. Melissa stared at me, her eyes were glazed with that typical
female pre-orgasmic haze. She didn't resist, instead she began to suck it
without me having to order her. I crouched behind her, and entered her
forcefully. I fucked her hard, while molding her nipples, I came, just
before I suspected Melissa was ready to get uncorked. 

She sighed deeply when I removed the dildo, it was sticky from her saliva. I
pulled her up by her hair and stuffed my dick in her mouth. She licked it
clean, she was eager! I had promised Mr. Best that she would be whipped all
over, her frontal area was still untouched. While her tongue was
manipulating my dick I grabbed two pair of slip-cuffs, and without pause
after I retracted my dick slipped them on her wrists and pulled her up
towards a hook on the ceiling. Tippee-toed she stood, looking around like
she had entered a different world, I grabbed the strap and began laying in
on her. She reacted like a boxing bag, her body absorbing every blow, her
face didn't show emotion, nor did she make any sound. Maybe I went too far,
the strap left it's distinctive marks on her tits, her belly and her upper
legs. 

I whipped her until the phone rang, it was Mr. Best informing me that the
driver was ready to pickup Melissa. He sounded relieved when I told him that
Melissa had taken her punishment like a good girl and that he could cancel
the locksmith. After disconnecting I released Melissa from the ceiling, her
legs were to weak to support her body, I held her and maneuvered Melissa to
a straight chair, where I dropped her. I grabbed her clothes, not until I
slapped her face a couple of times did she begin to get dressed. When the
driver arrived he had to support her to the car. My own emotions were mixed,
I felt good because Melissa deserved a lesson, but at the same time I wasn't
sure if I had passed the line of consent. Through the window I watched the
car disappear, time was catching up and after picking up the evidence of the
earlier "beating" and cleaning Kim's toys I took a shower and got ready for
work. 

I couldn't believe my eyes when around happy hour Melissa and Mr. Best
appeared in the bar. Melissa's eyes were full of glitter, and Mr. Best was
beaming. I wasn't sure how to react, so I played the bar-tender role, but
when I asked Melissa what to get her, she smiled and with a warm look said
"Anything, but yellow!" When I placed her rum and coke in front of her she
grabbed my hand, looked me in the eye and in a sincere voice said "Thank
you, I needed that!"

Mr. Best was beaming, demonstratively and to my own annoyance handed me
another envelope (It could get me fired). He also told anyone who wanted to
hear that I was a good bartender but even better at keeping women in line.
Asked further he explained how I had set his Melissa straight. At the time I
didn't know it, but that morning I had started a second career.