Caught Smoking

Prologue:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

I get all of my toys through networking. It's almost always either one of the women in our circle who has a toy she doesn't want and offers to point it at another who is interested. Or sometimes one of my toys tells someone, who tells someone, and so on until someone asks my toy to introduce someone to me. Rarely it's someone I don't play with, but who knows what I'm into, who asks me to meet someone. I get plenty of emails inquiring about meeting me, and while I will email and maybe chat with a sub online, I haven't yet met any. I won't rule it out, but meeting online is risky enough that someone would have to convince me before I'd think about it. A girl's gotta be careful!

[Note: Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories, only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size! Enjoy the story!]

Part I: Learning What Punishment Is

A friend of mine has a BEARCAT STOL. It's a small airplane, in a class commonly called a cub-alike. That just means it looks, and kind of flies, like a Piper Cub. Two seats, one behind the other. One little engine up front with a propeller. This particular variant is designed specifically to fly low and slow. And to land about anywhere, like on a football field. I have a pilot's license, but even this tiny plane is well beyond my budget. In Mobile (where the economy was long ago flushed down the toilet) you could buy a house for the cost of an airplane. However, my friend is very generous. He lets me fly his whenever I want, as long as I leave the fuel tanks full. No problem there. The fun is well worth the cost of the AVGAS.

It's a warm, clear summer day. I've just spent an hour and a half buzzing the beach at 500 feet and going as slow as I could fly while I did. In this baby, that's around 40-45 MPH. I picked 500 feet because it's as low as I thought I could get away with. Lower, and I have no doubt there would have been a deputy waiting on me to land. The plane is red, so there's not much to following it to the runway. Just look up. And the deputies' car can go faster than this plane. But it is way so fun! Naturally, I took my slave-girl, Sophie, with me. She makes an excellent co-pilot in a plane that's designed for one pilot. She's very good at looking out the window, taking pictures, and giggling. You'd be surprised what you can see from above!

We've just landed and secured the plane. I'm about to get in my car - it's a rebuilt Mazda Miata convertible and the top is down. I'd hate to waste a day like today with the top up. I mean literally about to get in the car. As in my hand on the door handle. My phone rings, Sophie glances at the caller ID and answers it. A few seconds later, about when my butt is hitting the seat, Sophie looks to me, the question in her eyes telling me she wants to speak. So I let her. She tells me it's my friend Andrea calling, and Andrea wants to talk to me. I take the call.

Andrea starts by asking if I'm busy. When I say "not really," she asks if I'm up for a "weird one-off." Andrea is one what my BFFs call my kinky friends. Meaning she shares me taste for BDSM, and like me, she's a Domme. We get together about every three weeks or so and swap gossip, tips, stories, and sometimes toys to play with. Two-legged toys.

Andrea tells me a story. Like all of her stories, it's long-winded and tells me a million irrelevant things. A couple, whom she is friends and neighbors with, but not "play-partners" with, have an 18-year-old daughter named Chloe who has been nothing but trouble for them lately. The girl is very quiet and very demure. The problems arise when she's left unguarded. Thinking for herself, she's liable to do about anything. Her parents, who've never shown any interest in our BDSM lifestyle, have asked Andrea about it. As in, did Andrea think it might be appropriate for Chloe, and did she think Chloe might be happy in this life. Andrea tells me that she's certain Chloe would be in heaven. Apparently, on the few chances, Chloe has had, she's asked Andrea questions that make Andrea "just certain" Chloe is dying to be owned.

A few minutes ago Chloe's mother called Andrea. They caught Chloe smoking, something that's completely against the house rules Chloe agreed to live by while she's still in her parents' house. Her parents are obviously upset. And have no idea how to deal with Chloe. Mostly because they've tried on the several occasions they caught her before, and yet they keep catching her. Tina, Chloe's mother, finally came out and directly asked Andrea what to do, or better yet, might she somehow convince Andrea to "help" them out. Andrea, however, is in Charlotte (she's a flight attendant, so she can be anywhere, anytime). She suggested that she has a friend, who is also a Domme, who might be willing to handle Chloe for them. She didn't say that she was uncomfortable doing it herself, since she's friends with both of Chloe's parents. But the eagerness and relief in Tina's voice told Andrea Tina thought it would just as uncomfortable. And that Andrea had figured out exactly what Tina wanted to try with Chloe.

I make no promises to Andrea. I'm not going to do anything with a girl who isn't interested in it. But I do get Tina's number and call her.

As soon as I introduce myself to Tina, she thanks me prolifically for calling her. Apparently "I'm Andrea's friend" was enough of an explanation for her to know exactly who I am. I can immediately tell that they're at their wits' end with Chloe. I can hear her father screaming at her in the background. And I can hear the light sobs in Tina's voice that she's trying hard to hide. She's slightly (very slightly) less wordy than Andrea. She tells me all of the trouble they've been having with Chloe. To me, it's just the typical teenager kind of thing. Nothing that serious. Just bratty. But still, it takes Tina around ten, marginally-rambling minutes to tell me the story.

I tell Tina that I refuse to touch anyone who doesn't wish for me to touch him or her. I won't force anyone to play or to accept a punishment from me. If Chloe willingly submitted to it, great. If not, they're on their own. I am not forcing Chloe, or anyone else, into anything. I get their address and tell Tina that I just landed at the little airport in Saraland, so I should be there in about fifteen minutes.

They are to immediately stop screaming at Chloe. They are to tell her that a friend of Andrea's is coming to deal with her "naughty little bottom." Chloe is to sit and sit still, in a chair until I arrive. No TV. No music. No nothing beyond her bottom in a chair. A dining room type chair, not a sofa or a recliner. Beyond her instructions, they were to refuse to speak to her. But both of them are to stand in the room and never take their eyes off of her. Just watch her. Watch Chloe sit in that chair and squirm. Tina happily agrees. I head over.

When we arrive, it's Tina who greets me at the door. I introduce myself as "Miss Rodgers," the same as I did on the phone, never telling her my first name. Sophie is beside, and one step behind me at the door. Despite the leash, Sophie's on, I politely introduce her as my slave-girl. I never offer a name for Sophie. "Slave" is all the name she needs. Tina invites us in and leads us to the kitchen where Chloe is waiting. It was the room she was in when I gave them my instructions, so they just picked a chair and demanded she sit in it and wait for me to get here.

Chloe is sitting. Not properly, but no one has ever taught this girl how a polite slave should sit. She fidgets around nervously and uncomfortably. She's wearing jeans that are neither snug nor loose on her, with a plain bright yellow t-shirt. It is so not fashionable! Then again, neither is her simple, straight long hair. Or much else about the girl. She's not a slob, just unstylish.

She fidgets a lot harder as soon as she sees me. She doesn't know me, at least I'm sure we've never met before. I guess the leashed Sophie demurely follows me must be a clue?

I don't waste any time. I walk directly up to Chloe. I stare into her eyes for about half a second. "Sit. Stay. Do not speak. I will tell you when you want to do anything else. You do not want to disappoint me, bitch. Got it? Say a very polite, 'Yes, Ma'am' now, bitch." I use a very firm, but not unkind voice with her.

Chloe sobs and blurts out a hushed "Yes, Ma'am" that rings with a nervousness. Not fear, just the nervousness of being a few light-years beyond her experience and into the unknown. She fidgets more.

"And stop sitting like a complete slob! I don't care if you are an impish little bitch, I won't tolerate any disrespect from you! Sit up straight! Hold your head up! Cross your legs, right over left... all the way! That's right, now fold those hands neatly in your lap. That's a good bitch! Now stop squirming around like a little weasel and sit still. Got it, bitch?"

Chloe flinches hard with my first command, even though I neither use a harsh tone nor raise my voice. I'm just firm in my instructions to her. She very quickly obeys, pulling herself into a polite posture as I instruct her along. She manages all of it, except the part about not squirming. She still fidgets around, now a little more nervously than before. She answers again in her hushed, edgy tone. "Yes, Ma'am!"

I glare at her, waiting for Chloe to stop fidgeting so much. It has the opposite effect on her. She fidgets more. I see her eyes start casing downward a couple of times, but Chloe quickly catches herself and brings them back up.

After a few long moments, I turn my attention to Tina. "Tina, you will tell me exactly what this naughty bitch did. Tell me only what you saw, nothing that you think."

Tina stands, leaning against the countertop. "I thought I smelled something, so I went around back. I saw Chloe hanging half out her bedroom window with a cigarette in her hand."

"I understand that Chloe was told she was not permitted to smoke in this house, is that right, or was Chloe told that she wasn't allowed to smoke at all?"

"I... guess we weren't so specific about that... we just told her she couldn't smoke while she was here..."

"If I agree to handle this for you, you must agree that, whatever I decide, no matter how much you or Chloe dislikes or disapproves of my handling it, you will abide by my decision. No matter what. And abide by it literally and strictly, no wiggle room or interpretation. Do you want me to handle Chloe?"

"Yes." Tina sighs out. To me, she looks frustrated with Chloe and slightly concerned that I may have something hideous in mind for Chloe. I've already figured out that discipline isn't their strong suit. If it was, Chloe would behave her naughty butt and I wouldn't be here.

I ask Chloe's father if he accepts my terms as well. He does, a little less hesitantly than Tina did.

I turn my attention back to the fidgety girl. "You know whose friend I am, so unless you're dumber than a goldfish, you know what I'm like. Are you dumber than a goldfish?"

"No, Ma'am." Chloe answers in her hushed voice.

"We'll see about that, bitch," I grin. "This is your one, and only, chance. You have a choice. This will be the last choice you get. You may choose your consequence. Since you clearly do not wish to live by the rules of this house, you may leave it now and make your own way in this world. Pay your own bills, feed yourself, keep a roof over your own head. All the things grown-up girls do. Without any help or gifts of money from mommy and daddy. I do it, so you can too.

"Or, you may accept whatever punishment I dream up. You will hate it. It wouldn't be much of a punishment if it was fun, would it? I will own you. I will do whatever I wish with you, and your body. I won't care about your shyness or comfort. Your worthless butt will be truly punished, I think for the first time in your waste of a life.

"Make your choice, bitch."

"I don't want to get kicked out, Ma'am," Chloe answers nervously.

"Obviously you need to learn so proper manners, too, bitch!" I scold her, still not raising my voice. "Pick one. Then very politely ask me for it. In a full sentence that tells me what you're asking for."

Chloe hesitates a moment. "Will you please punish me, Ma'am?"

"If I do, I will punish you for everything I think you are doing wrong. Not just the one thing mommy caught you at. You will be a proper little bitch from now on. I will do whatever I fancy with you. And that means literally anything. There is no limit, nothing I can do to you or any part of you. Still want me to punish your naughty butt?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Chloe squirms a little more, her edgy eyes locked on me as if waiting to hear how utterly hideous her punishment is going to be.

"Where are your cigarettes, bitch? All of them."

"In my purse, Ma'am." Chloe's voice is still hushed and shy, but also now reluctant.

"Slave, fetch this bitch's purse."

Sophie glances around the kitchen to make sure it isn't here, then hurries for Chloe's room. Chloe sits nervous and unhappy, warily watching Sophie rush off to invade her privacy. Sophie is back in less than a minute. She drops to her knees facing me and holds Chloe's purse out atop upturned palms that are flat with her nipples and out six inches from those nubs.

I take Chloe's purse and ask her if it's hers. She says yes. Then I ask her if there's anything else a "good little girl" shouldn't have in her purse in it. I glare at Chloe hard for a few seconds, watching her fidget more by the second. I dump Chloe's purse out on the table, making sure I get everything out of it. And watch Chloe cringe as I do.

I find a pack of Newport 100s. Yuck! I flip the box open and see that it's about half full. I wonder how long these were going to last Chloe. Hopefully, Chloe realizes that they're gone now. I find a Bic lighter, too. I put both off to the side. Then I keep going, looking through everything from her purse. I don't find anything else.

I pick up Chloe's phone, which was in her purse. It needs a PIN number or a fingerprint to unlock it. I say nothing. In just walk the two steps to Chloe, take hold of her finger, and press it to the little sensor. I watch as the phone unlocks. And I watch as just as quickly a look of utter horror sweeps Chloe's face. But that doesn't surprise me. Phones are the world to teenagers, especially girls, and more especially socialites. Chloe being all three. Her entire life is going to be in this little gadget.

I look through it, seeing Chloe cringe even more by the click. It doesn't take me but a second to see that she has Snapchat, but so do a lot of people. Including me. Since I know it can be used inappropriately, that's where I start. I find a bunch of messages to Jacob. No mention of who he is. And I can't read the messages, they've been auto-deleted. But I can open her pictures folder and see every picture Chloe has taken. It doesn't take me long to find out why Chloe is squirming around so hard. There's a very revealing naked selfie.

I turn to Tina and ask her who Jacob is. Before Tina can answer, Chloe blurts out, very nervously and desperately, "he's a friend!" I spin around quickly, slapping Chloe hard across her face as I do. It's enough of a slap that it rings out with a loud crack that startles her parents. And leaves a pink handprint on Chloe's cheek. "Shut up, bitch. I didn't tell you that you wanted to speak. I asked your mommy who he was." I turn back to Tina and apologize for the interruption, then ask her again who Jacob is. She tells me she doesn't know. She's yet to hear the name from Chloe.