A. Kitten: “Recidivist” (FF, bdsm, stroke)
Kayleigh entered the club’s dark locker room, one-handedly stuffing
her keycard back in her purse. She had never seen itfully lit; Adam
kept things dark and cool. Cavernous.
Facing her cubby, she wriggled out of her jeans and tank top, setting
them on a middle shelf. Lifting her collar from its hook, she held it
briefly to her chest and bent her neck to inhale the scent of leather.
Then she knelt by the exit to the club, collar held before her, and
pressed the bell.
Slaves weren’t allowed to collar themselves.
Nor were any dominant members inconsiderate enough to answer a sub’s
call quickly. But the chill tile did not dissuade her, and eventually
her downcast eyes recognized approaching black-clad legs.
Master Adam accepted her collar moved behind her. “Have you seen the
new game?” he asked, lifting her hair. She felt the first touch of
leather, and then it enveloped her, just tightly enough to reminder
her of why she was there.
“Just put your name and a room down on the whiteboard.” Before she
could respond, he tucked in the collar’s end and was gone.
**
The instructions had been in Tim’s jagged hand: “A recidivist just
won’t stop being bad and has to be punished constantly. Sounds like
me! Here’s my idea: we should write down when and where we can be
caught so those poor, overworked doms don’t have to hunt us down.”
His name first name on the list. Typical.
Anyway, she would presumably, be “caught” any minute now. If only
thinking up something to be caught at wasn’t so hard.
“Oh, well,” Kayleigh thought, “Better go for the old standby.”
She dropped back to the covers, legs already open and eyes already
closed. Hands were trailing across her stomach, ribcage, ribs, the
edges of her breasts. Emboldened, one ventured down, middle and ring
fingers separating from their sisters as they sought her inner
folds….
After a brief eternity, the door opened.
“Is *that* the best you can do?” an imposing figure pronounced
ominously.
“M-m-mistress Rebekah!” Kayleigh bit her lip in mock fear.
“You were expecting someone else?”
“Master Adam collared me….”
“Are you disappointed?” she asked, the rapping of one booted foot
against the floor echoed by a light tapping of fingers on hips.
“Oh, *no*, Mistress Rebekah.”
“Good. Now, do you know what the punishment is for slaves who
masturbate without permission?”
“Ummm, noooo…” she gulped. “Is there one?”
“Stick to script, please.” Rebekah made a noise of disgust and sat on
the bed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to spank you until you can behave.”
“Is that all? I was scared for a minute!”
A hand grabbed Kayleigh’s wrist and pulled her across Mistress
Rebekah’s lap. “Let’s see how you feel in after this, you imp.”
Kayleigh squirmed, careful not to twist her arms away from her captor.
“Count.”
“Yes Mist–eep!” Kayleigh quickly switched gears. “One, Mistress!”
“Oh, I’m *so* sorry,” Kayleigh twisted her head back in time to catch
Rebekah’s smirk. “Did it hurt?”
“Did what hurt? Ooh! Two-three-four, Mistress!” She was experienced,
and easily aroused by the pain.
“Maybe you’re right; seems to me you not hurting at all.” Strong
gluteus muscles flinched under stroking fingernails, then tensed as
she brought her palm down again.
“Five, Mistress. How can you tell?”
Rebekah paused, idly rubbing her target. “That pert little ass arched
into it a little.”
“Then Mistress should please hit me harder, until is painful.”
“Have you been practicing talking dirty again?”
“Six, Mistress!”
“Because you sound like some porno.”
“Seven, Mistress!”
“Besides, it’s not your job to tell me what to do.” Rebekah slipped
her hand briefly between Kayleigh’s thighs, then casually struck
again.
“Eight, nine! Mistress, Ten!”
“I’ll make you enjoy your punishment, if I think that’s best.”
“Eleven, Mistress!”
“And I think I will.” Rebekah was alternating the spanks with gentle
probes beneath.
“Twelve, oooh, there, there, there…. Thirteen, Mistress!” Kayleigh
was breathing harder, and the squirming of her hips had incorporated a
slight humping into Rebekah’s leg.
“Still feel like being bossy?”
“I thought I was–fourteen!–being punished for masturbating,
Mistress. Fifteen, Mistress!”
“You just won’t stop, will you?”
“Sixteen! That one *really* hurt, Mistress!”
“I bet. Now stop moving so much, you’re getting my thigh all wet.”
“Seventeen, Mistress. I can’t help it, Mistress.” Rebekah’s hand moved
differently this time, and Kayleigh felt an expert stroke that left
her gasping. Then–
“Eighteen, Mistress! Nineteen!”
“I guess there’s only one way you’ll calm down.”
“Emhhh! Twweentyy, Mistress!”
“And that’s to wear you out.” The familiar combination of spanking and
fondling became more passionate as Kayleigh quivered in near orgasm.
She could barely keep up between ragged breaths. “Twenty-one,
twenty-two, oooh, twenty-three, Mistreesss, twenty-three….” Kayleigh
climaxed freely and sagged against the bed.
“Would you look at that.” Rebekah petted her sweaty slave. “She lost
count.”