Jack

I tied the sash on the yukata and walked to the back door. The late evening sun slanted through the big window overlooking the golf course. I opened the blinds before stepping outside. Earlier in the week I'd thinned the clump of bamboo growing out back, cutting out every third culm, using a hand-saw to cut the poles down to four foot sections that made great garden stakes. And canes. Canes that could be applied to a certain male person's backside.

I selected one about half an inch in diameter. It was still green and fairly flexible. I slapped it against my calf, testing it on myself until I got the right wrist snap to maximize sting while minimizing welts. I wanted to redden his bottom, not bruise it.

I opened the back door to find him kneeling as instructed, before the mirror. The sun's rays bounced off the blinds and lent a golden glow to the room, softening the stark shadows that crossed his back, precursors of marks to come. I raised the blinds and threw open all the windows, opening the entire back of the house to the golf course it overlooked. Not 10 yards away I could see a couple playing through the fairway. I doubted they could see into my place given the angle of the light, but I doubted Jack knew that. I knew it would add to his titillation and humiliation, the awareness that someone sweeping the grass looking for a golf ball might glance into the windows or overhear him being punished.

I turned around and my eyes met his in the mirror. I could see the apprehension and excitement on his face. I watched his eyes flick to the windows behind me.

"Is this going to be too embarrassing for you, Jack?"

"No, Miss Kay."

"Are you sure? I mean, anyone who walks by will hear your cries, may even see you naked and submitting to my discipline."

He squirmed. His cock twitched and he shivered under the caress of my voice. In the mirror, his eyes watched the movement of the bamboo cane as I tapped it against my leg.

"Why are you here, Jack?" I asked him, almost gently.

"Because it pleases you, Miss Kay."

"Oh? Do you think it pleases me to have to punish you?" I tightened my grip on the bamboo cane, and the leather of my glove creaked.

"N-n-no, Miss Kay."

"Then why are you here, Jack?" I reached out with the cane and traced it gently along his spine.

His back arched, forcing his chest out. He dragged in a breath. I could see a hint of desperation his expression as he cast about with his mind, trying to find the answer that I was looking for.

"Because... because..." He took another deep breath. "Because I want to be. "

I smiled at him, a big beaming smile with just a hint of cruelty showing through.

"Because you want to be. Yes. Very good, Jack. I want you to remember that." I rested my hands on his shoulders a moment, then stood upright.

"Well then, shall we get down to business? Here is what I propose. For the duration of the evening, the usual green-yellow-red signales are in force and I will respect them. For your punishment, you are going to masturbate to orgasm, Jack, as quickly as you can. I don't expect to push your limits, but I do intend to stripe your ass with this cane until you come. Understood?"

Naked and penitent, he nodded.

"Good. The whipping commences as soon as you touch your cock."

I stepped up alongside him, tangled my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and waited, the stick of bamboo poised to fall. I felt the fine tremor in him, watched in the mirror as his pleading eyes met my implacable ones. He'd chosen this path, this abasement, and I was simply executing it. I raised an eyebrow at him, and for a moment there I thought for certain he would call it all off. But he took a deep breath and lifted one of his long-fingered hands from his thigh to his shaft.

He squeezed his eyes closed in anticipation of the first blow.

Cruelly, I held my hand.

He gave his cock another hesitant stroke, his brows knitted.

"Oh come on, Jack! You can do better than that. Beat that meat, damnit." I used the fingers in his hair to give his head a shake. "Stroke that useless piece of meat or so help me I'll toss you naked out on the course and you can find someone else to beat your pathetic ass--with a golf club."

I let him get a good rhythm going, let him cup his balls in his other hand--let him almost forget about the bamboo cane hovering behind him--before I let it fall. When it did, his eyes flew wide open, as did his mouth.

"Ow!" he cried out.

"Poor baby, did that hurt?" I asked in my best sexy voice.

I held his eyes in the mirror and slapped the cane against his ass again. The sound it made was satisfying, as was the grunt that came out from between his gritted teeth. His hands stopped moving on his cock and braced themselves on his thighs instead.

"Jack, darling..." I bent forward to kiss the top of his head. "The object of this exercise is for you to come as soon as possible... Now you are more than welcome to savor your spanking, but if you let your cock go soft, your poor ass is going to be in ribbons before you finally come."

This reminder galvanized him into motion. He fisted his cock and closed his eyes in concentration as I flicked the bamboo against his bottom, again and again. His cock swelled, darkened. His other hand dropped back to his balls, pinching them. His body jerked and swayed to the rhythm of his arm and mine, both of us bent on abusing his flesh. He was struggling to amplify the pleasure, I could see, and I was pleased to see his struggle. I wanted him to beat himself, fast and furious, trying to come as fast as he could, cheating himself of the real pleasure of his second orgasm, just as he'd robbed me of the pleasure of his first one.

And then, after he came... I smiled to myself and tickled his ass with tip of the cane, tracing the red lines, drawing a figure-eight around it. After he came, I had no intention of letting him rest. No. I expected him to stay hard. I expected him to stay hard and serve me right. My smiled hardened. Like he should have the first time.

"Yes, that's it, Jack. Pump it." I lashed him with a slightly stronger flick of my wrist.

He made a half-cry, bit it off as his wide eyes caught the figure of a golfer nearby, in the mirror. The man had located his ball in the taller grass of my lawn and was preparing a pitch shot not 20 feet from us. The bamboo cane landed on Jack's ass again with a satisfying slap, and again, Jack made a noise, half-cry, half whimper. The golfer turned his head toward the house, then looked back down at his ball.

Jack's eyes sought mine in the mirror. They pleaded with me, his eyes. I could see the conflict in them, see him struggling with arousal and pain and embarrassment. I smiled back at him.

"Come on! I haven't got all night!" I said impatiently, my voice raised to carry. "Stroke your cock faster, damn you, or I'll invite a golfer in to watch."

I let the bamboo switch fall again, and again Jack cried out. The golfer rested his pitching wedge against the turf, leaned on it, and looked toward my house. I knew the angle of the light was such that he was most likely seeing his own reflection in the windows, but there was no doubt that he could hear what was going on.

Jack looked at me, looked at the golfer, looked back at me. He took a deep breath, held it and redoubled his efforts. I noted with approval that the head of his cock glistened with precum.

"Mmmm. Good boy," I said approvingly, and too loudly. "Look at how dark your cock is. Why, the head is positively purple!"

I slapped Jack with the cane, he moaned, and the golfer grabbed his own cock through the front of his pants. I figured he thought we were too busy to notice him listening in but it seemed that he'd forgotten where he was. On the edge of a golf course.

"Steeeeve!" A man's voice called, making the golfer jump. "Can't you find your ball?"

I grinned. I knew the man was very aware of the balls in his shorts, but I did not doubt he'd forgotten all about the one at his feet.

In the mirror, I watched as 'Steve' marched toward the edge of my yard and made an urgent "come-here" motion with his hands. I looked down at Jack, watched him stroke his cock. He, too, was watching the other figure in the mirror. He'd slowed his pace a bit, so I gave him another lash with the cane, the hardest yet. His body arched, forming an elongated bow. His breath caught, causing him to bite off the cry that formed in this throat. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and when he saw my expression, he re-doubled his efforts, stroking the flesh in his hand with renewed fervor.

I ran my fingers through his hair, murmuring to him, urging him on. "Stroke it harder, Jack. Don't let up. Come for me, come quickly now. You've other tasks to fulfill my pet, but first you must complete this one..."

And once again we entered that timeless rhythmic zone in which nothing existed but the two of us and the pleasure and the pain. I watched his body as the cane fell, watched the resilience of his skin, the coloration. Watched the way his body started leaning back into my swing, meeting the blows almost eagerly. I murmured encouragement to him, ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. He watched me in the mirror, his eyes alternating between my face and the sway of my breasts as my arm rose and fell. And at some point I became aware that we were being watched.

I murmured to Jack, "Our friend is back, dear. He is watching me paddle your sweet ass. Watching you beat your meat there, in front of the mirror. Lets make sure we put on a good show."

He cupped his balls again and moaned loudly. My voice rose. I interspersed threats with my encouraging words. I lowered the arc of the bamboo switch and slapped it on the back of his thighs. He jumped, cried out.

"Too much?" I asked?

"Green!" he panted through clenched teeth, his hand a blur on his cock.

I dropped my hand from the hair at the back of his head and insinuated it under the folds of my robe. I dipped my fingers into the folds of my pussy, wiggled them into that wetness, then held them to his mouth.

"Lick my fingers. Suck the pussy juices off them..." I could feel the heat of his mouth enveloping my fingers, even through my gloves.

"Yes.... yes. Suck them clean, Jack, and come for me. Come for me, and for your reward, you will get to taste them from the source. You want that, don't you Jack? You want to bury your face between my thighs and eat my pussy until I scream."

And with that I looked up, and met two sets of wide eyes staring into the window on the side of the house. I smiled, at them and nodded. They started to pull away, but did not get far. I smacked Jack hard on his thighs and he moaned around my fingers.

In a commanding voice, ordered him to come.

And he did. He gasped and cried out as the semen bubbled up out of the head of his cock. He swayed and jerked there, on his knees, his face a patchwork of ecstasy and torment. He slowed down, started to relax, but I switched him again.

"Keep stroking, Jack. Don't stop. I want you to stay hard. Stroke!"

He shuddered through it, winced and moaned as I urged him to continue pumping his cock. Over-sensitized, the forced stroking robbed him of the pleasure of his orgasm, as I'd intended.

"Poor baby," I said, cradling his head against my belly. "It must be excruciating. You want to stop, don't you? You want to stop, but you know I will be displeased if you do so without permission."

Tears came to his eyes, coursed down his cheeks. He buried his face against my belly. His nostrils flared, and it took me just a moment to realize why. He could smell my arousal. One of his hands dared to rest itself on my foot, then, when I did not object, slid slowly up my calf.

"Please, Miss Kay. Please..."

"Please what, my pet?"

"Please let me please you?"

I thought about it for a moment. I looked out the window, and sure enough, our two golfers still stood outside, enthralled. What are they thinking, I wondered.

"You can stop stroking now," I told him.

He whimpered as he released himself, and a long shudder ran through his body.

"I want you to turn to face me," I told him.

When he was done shuffling around on his knees, his backside was facing the voyeurs, who, I am sure, were not quite certain what to make of the red marks criss-crossing his deliciously pink bottom. The late evening light strained through the blinds, making his flesh glow in alternating bands of shadow and bright. His eyes glistened. I could still see the tears clumping his eyelashes together, making them seem even longer and darker, making his eyes liquid and luminous as he looked up at me. I stared into the windows of his soul, saw his suffering, his vulnerability, his desire to please.

I untied the belt of my yukata, let it fall open. Placed my hands on the silky fabric of my slip and slid it slowly up my thighs, conscious that I was teasing three men, and not just the one kneeling before me.

I stopped when it reached my upper thighs, high enough that Jack could just see the curve of my outer labia, plump and slippery with my juices.

He moaned at the sight, nuzzled his face against my inner thigh. His breath tickled my skin. He was breathing rather heavily, inhaling my scent.

"You are a goddess," he said, reverently and without guile.

"Oh? And I suppose you want to please your goddess now?"

He moaned and nodded. I dipped my gloves fingers into my pussy again, dragged them down the lower half of his face.

"Are you worthy?"

"I want to be," he sighed.

"Are you worthy?" I asked again.

"I am unworthy of you, Mistress, but I would worship you all the same, if it pleases you."

Such a lovely answer. It pleased me.

I threaded my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him forward, unbalancing him. He placed his hands on my thighs carefully, caressingly. I guided his face toward me until his nose was nudging against my clit. His breath tickled my skin, making me want to trill and move away.

"Show me how well you can please me, Jack," I said, and with that he opened his mouth and drove his tongue unerringly into my clit.

The resulting jolt of pleasure made me gasp. My knees wanted to buckle but I reached out and leaned my hand against the wall, pressing my palm into the mirror. The fingers cradling the back of his skull pressed him more firmly against me, and my hips moved in concert with his mouth.

Jack's lips circled my clit and sucked at it like a nipple. My body tightened, bowed, and then he scraped it between his teeth. It was all I needed to push me over the edge, and I flung myself into it, flying toward climax like an arrow speeding toward its target--or like a ball toward the putting green.

The pleasure slut in me took over and I moaned and sighed and rode his face toward ecstasy, staring boldly out the window, into the eyes of our voyeur-golfers. Into the faces of the two men who stood frozen, their faces avid, exultant, looking for all the world as though they'd landed a hole in one.