Miss Marino Pt. 01

Miss Marino

A luminous goth slut fidgets awkwardly in a pool of light. A slash of hooker-red lipstick and short black hair accentuate her pale skin. The slut pulls at the hem of a short black dress with a white collar and balances precariously on high-heeled black boots. The slut seems contrite, eyes cast down, apprehensive. A seated figure in the corner addresses her sternly.

Your service today, Miss Marino, has been lackluster at best. It does not seem to me that you are giving the task at hand your full attention. Careless work. I know that you desire to be proficient, to be competent, to be proud of your ability to serve well, and, yet, your efforts today are shoddy, and worse, unenthusiastic.

I see your eyes begin to tear. I wonder how you will feel when your humiliation begins in earnest. For make no mistake, your humiliation today will be complete. You need it badly, don't you? You need every shred of your false pride whipped away. To have your nose rubbed in your own spit as it drools to the floor. You need to know in your heart that your penance is complete and commensurate with your crimes--you slovenly, lazy, trailer trash slut.

Enough talk, Miss Marino. Remove your panties. Just let them fall to your ankles. Is that your grool? Has the sound of my voice turned on a faucet in your cunt? Just thinking about your humiliation has made you drip like a cow at milking time. Poor Miss Marino, your own body betrays your darkest need, doesn't it? Walk to me Miss Marino, or should I say shuffle? Hands at your sides, eyes down, and careful you don't trip over your soiled panties.

Now, take them off and show me your shame. Your panties are sopping, Miss Marino, and you know I cannot abide a mess. Lick off your grool and swallow it. Now, stuff the panties in your mouth as you may soon be tempted to speak, and this will remind you that your words are not important, only your actions.

Bend over and place your hands on your knees. You see the circle on the wall? Place your nose there and keep it there until instructed otherwise. That's right, nose to the wall like a child who's thrown a tantrum and must be punished. Now raise your ass, raise it higher, Miss Marino, if you desire there to be any flesh left after I have finished my reminders.

What you're feeling now is the hard leather paddle. You've felt it before, but usually at the end of our time together. Today, we begin here and proceed further as your misdeeds demand greater correction. WHACK. Do I have your full attention now, Miss Marino? The slut shakes her head vigorously. Good. Let us begin with a series of five strokes. After each series, you will remove the soiled panties from your mouth and apologize to me for your incompetence today. We will continue until I believe that your contrition is real and complete.

The first series of strokes are delivered in rapid succession with no preamble and no hesitation. Miss M gasps through her panty gag as her eyes go wide and her ass contracts at each blow. By the fifth, she is panting. After removing her gag, she speaks.

I am sorry, Mr. B. I am sorry and promise that I will do better if you will only give me another chance. Quickly, she stuffs the soiled white panties back in her mouth and waits.

Without comment the next five strokes are delivered, more slowly now, but with greater force. With each stroke, the slut surges forward and grunts through her gag. By the fifth stroke she is squealing around her panties.

Forgive me, Mr. B, I am begging you please. I understand that I am not worthy of your affection, that I have failed in even my most basic duties to serve you, sir. I do not deserve your mercy, but I must, I must, I must...

Words fail the slut as her eyes dart around the room desperate for a better turn of phrase. Ashamed of her inadequacy, she quickly returns the panties to their place and lifts her ass high in the air as if in acknowledgement that the only true apology is her humiliation.

These five strokes are long and leisurely, with plenty of time for anticipation between blows. And harder, much harder, and now the slut begins to sweat. Each resounding thwack drives her nose into its circle on the wall and forces a small scream from between her clenched teeth. At the fifth stroke, the slut sinks to her knees and shakily removes her gag and sobs.

This worthless slut has no words for you Mr. B for no words are adequate This slut has failed, sir, failed to place your needs above her own; failed to appreciate each opportunity to serve your cock, failed to be grateful for even a passing glance or for your lips to speak its name. No words, sir, so I beg you to beat me sir, beat me until your arm is too tired to lift the paddle. Please, Mr. B, beat my worthless ass until I lose my mind and come to my senses.

With that, the slut gags herself, grabs her ankles and waits.

Mr. B does not disappoint. And now the screams are replaced by wails as the paddle rises and falls passionately on its upturned ass. Beating out pride, beating out ego and leaving nothing in its place but being. Counting ceases now, and Mr. B is attentive to each stroke. Pausing to caress its glowing ass, splotched crimson above the white of her thighs. There is nothing now, nothing but sound and motion and release.

When Mr. B has finished, the slut collapses to its hands and knees, face pressed to the floor, sweat gleaming and hair plastered to its face. There is no energy to remove the gag, and the slut moans her mantra over and over...

Thank you, Mr. B, thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you...