The Executioner's Girl

Chapter 4

Behind him, skulking in his shadow was a short, fat man. He was the kind that so regularly hung around the periphery hoping to be noticed and abused. He was fully enclosed in a skin-tight indigo latex bodysuit, which had a studded flap covering what seemed like a very flat crotch. His fat paunch stretched the plastic and made it gleam under the spotlights. His stumpy enclosed legs ended in a pair of incongruous, highly polished worker boots in black. He looked f*****g ridiculous, like a giant blueberry. The suit had two small holes for the eyes and below them a little opening to poke out a tongue, if ever a Mistress deemed him suitable to give her a lick. I certainly wouldn’t. You just knew that the reason he wore a mask was not to give anonymity but to hide his ugly, fat, probably bearded face. How such old, blobby non-entities felt able to approach me and beg for my attention just made my blood boil. Sometimes they annoyed me so much I could not wait to get them back home and make them suffer.

As the night pushed on it became clear that Ariadne and I had reached our usual impasse. We hadn’t even got close enough to talk and she steadfastly timed her comfort breaks not to coincide with mine. The teasing little b***h! She began to blatantly ignore me, concentrating on forcing one of her males over the table so that she could cane the bare arse sticking out of the cut-away circle in his tight pants. She normally used to sneak a look in my direction, to gauge my reaction, but not tonight. Instead she got another of her males, a blond with a huge ball gag stuffed in his drooling mouth, to get to his knees behind the first victim so that she could force his face between the striped and burning cheeks. She then began to cane the bare back and shoulders of the blond, which must have hurt like hell. I decided enough was enough and left, picking out a few lucky souls to accompany me, breaking the hearts of those I left behind.

I always take my visitors down the metal staircase that allows direct entry to my basement, so that they never see the rest of the house. They get to see only the entrance hall, the Scold Room itself, the little kitchenette-c*m-bar opposite plus the adjoining restroom. I had the latter room specially built and decorated in black, white and chrome. It is large enough to house a black leather couch and a matching plush swivel chair, which faces the toilet seat, some six feet away. If I so choose I can sit and watch my girls squirm as they relieve themselves.

Whenever I bring visitors I let them have a drink in the kitchenette/bar first, especially as they get to glimpse all the equipment as they pass by the Scold Room. Whilst taking some refreshment they are allowed time to dwell on the potential torments coming their way. For my evening’s entertainment I chose to invite the new black b***h, plus my fairly regular playmate Kitty, since she knew how to play my game with the shears. The wiry dude was a must, since he was to be the night’s target, and I had also invited a younger sissy-boy who had been skirting around the periphery of my group for some weeks, trying to test the water. This was the first time I had noticed him give full vent to his feminine side, rouging his cheeks and wearing high heels to go with his purple netted vest top and very short rubber mini skirt. He had a floppy blond mop on his head but the rest of his body seemed devoid of any hair. Tonight he had finally plucked up the courage to sit at my table, so I reasoned that it was high time for him to see what he had been missing with his indecision. Incredibly, that fat f**k Blueberry had also sneaked his way in too, although I distinctly remembered not inviting him. He must have inveigled his way into the cab following mine, the sneaky bastard. Still, tricks like that would only ensure such a complete lack of attention that he ended up with a pair of blue balls to match his silly suit. I decided to tease him just the once before forgetting him entirely. I moved them all into the Scold Room and had him sit on a black rubber beanbag in one dimly-lit corner.

“Open that flap, Blueberry,” I sneered. “Show me what kind of maggot c**k you’re hiding in there.”

He shifted uncomfortably and hesitantly pulled at the studded fasteners so that the flap came down. He had some kind of blue net underwear on, his pitifully small prick within its own mini-sleeve of netting and lying limply on the separately held pair of large, hairy balls. It was like the most disappointing bag of fruit left on the shelf and it was all I could do to contain my laughter. The prick was a stubby nonsense with a long wrinkled foreskin ending in a little O. I doubted if, without the protection of his mask, he would have had the courage to reveal it in public. I gathered a large mouthful of saliva, bent down towards his lap, and spat it out onto his genitals. It was a nasty, trickling representation of my contempt.

“Do not touch yourself, you pointless s**t,” I snarled.

He got the message, and sat on his hands as a visual demonstration of his compliance. I turned my back on him, ready now to forget him and put the other guys through some torment instead. As ever I decided upon a slow tease and a determination to stop them coming when and where they needed to. I had Wiry Dude strip and he did so nonchalantly, going bare to reveal a long, slim c**k that even in its semi-arousal was as long as the dildo projecting from my groin. Sissy-Boy tugged up his skirt and slipped off his lacy panties. His prick swelled instantly once released and, although not as long as Wiry Dude’s, it was still above average and thickly threatening. Why do all c***s look so painfully big to me?

“Men are dirty pigs, my pretties,” I said, “so put some gloves on.”

The two girls followed my lead and pulled on a pair of black latex gloves from the box I offered. There is no way I am touching a man’s bits with my bare hands. I had Kitty strip naked too, for my benefit as much as theirs. She’s a good girl: pretty and petite with a chubby little bum and small t**s. I knew that when all the others had gone I would take her into the restroom, kiss her tenderly and suck her aching n*****s while I filled her weeping cunt with my fingers. Then, under cover of complete darkness, I would strip off my suit, sit back and push her face between my legs. She would tongue my crack eagerly, starting at my anus and then lapping up my little slit. As she engulfed my c**t and sucked, she would slide one finger inside me and stir it oh so gently. I would cry out and splash her with my come, and she would whimper with the sheer joy of giving me such pleasure. Later, when I was covered again, I would send her on her way, and in her silently pleading eyes would be the proof that she utterly adores me. I call her Kitty, although I have never asked her name. She has it tattooed on her arm above the head of a cartoon cat. I guess it might not be her name at all, but the mark of some former Mistress who used her and kicked her out once boredom set in. That reminds me: I must get her to have Willow tattooed on her arse before I discard her.

I had the black b***h leave her leotard on, to tease the boys a little more.

“Get on the motorbike,” I directed her.

It didn’t take much to see that I was referring to the spank-seat in black padded leather, shaped like a racing motorcycle without wheels. The seat end was thin and raised so that you had to climb on and lie with your belly flat to the soft ‘petrol tank’ with your knees resting on the flared side pods. The head end stuck up in a padded oval to represent the windshield, and this doubled as a cushion should you lay back on the saddle. Below this, on either side was a short metal rod to represent the handlebar, each with a padded grip and a cuff hanging from the end on a chain, in case your victim needed securing. Admittedly it wasn’t a great choice if you had robbed a bank and needed to make a speedy getaway, but if you wanted to drape a sexy black b***h over it and beat her stuck out, leopard-skin-covered apple rump, then it was just the thing. And that is what I did.

I used a flat leather paddle on her. The first impact was hard and got everyone’s keen attention. I followed it up with a succession of slaps that, despite the firmness of her buttocks, got the flesh dancing beneath the tight fabric. I had fears that she might be a little strong for me but she took it without question and with relatively little fuss, considering the sharpness of the pain that must have been bursting through her. It was a transfixing sight, her jiggling meat restrained by the tight leotard, her bottom flinching then thrusting back out for more, causing the material to hug her cheeks and define the deep crack in between. I do so love girl’s bottoms, big or small. I can find them irresistible when bent over in front of me, and I often spank harder in my frustration at not being able to eat them up. I do SO long to taste one, to push my face between the soft pillows and lap at the tight hole, but it is too demeaning an act for a Mistress to perform. Sometimes, when I have been fingering my girl’s arses, if I know they cannot see me, I put my finger to my mouth and secretly suck on it with longing, dreaming of Ariadne and her little pert backside.

Leopard Bum started to squeal louder and grind her crotch into the padded saddle. I could see the boys’ pricks were fully hard. Wiry Dude in particular had a frighteningly rigid pole. It was not as thick as Sissy Boy’s but was surely long enough to pierce one’s belly from within. I couldn’t imagine the searing mess they would make if they chose to use their strength against me, if they decided to tear into me with both c***s at once and stuff my virgin holes. Fortunately they were a pair of effete wimps, hanging onto my every word and action, and I could make their desperate balls ache a lot more before I was finished.

I got the Leopard to dismount her seat and had Kitty help her shed her skin to reveal the small t**s, soft chocolate belly and smooth round conker arse, with the blush of my spanking just about noticeable on the skin there. I had her lie back on the double love seat next to the motorbike (essentially a flat block for two with a raised triangle pillow end that put the victims at a perfect height to enter with my strap-on dido-suits, whether on their back or bent over the front edge). This Black b***h already looked inviting but I knew how to make her totally irresistible. I collected a handful of clothes pegs and stroked her face slowly while I showed them to her. I then forced her mouth slightly open and placed the pegs one by one on her full lips, gently squeezing the jaws shut to trap the flesh full of blood. She winced, but she took it and I could tell by the way she squirmed that she was mine.