My Love is Like a Red, Red Arse...

In the meantime, he was wearing too many clothes for a beating.

"Jake, love. Take your shoes and socks off. I'll keep them in my bag. Lovely. Now, let's push your stool further away, so more people can see. Stand up there. Hands behind your head, and give us a twirl."

Jake stood in his bare feet on the low table, raised his hands to his head. Carefully, he shuffled round, in a circle. Lifting his arms exposed more of his tattooed chest under the suit jacket; his elegant trousers brushed over the tops of his feet.

He looked at me, expectant, nervous. He didn't know what I'd expect next.

Though really, he should have guessed.

"Nice. Keep your jacket on, take your trousers off."

Clearly relieved that his flattering navy-blue shorts could stay in place, Jake obliged, stepping carefully out of each pressed leg, then folding them and passing the trousers to me. I could see most of the intricate tattoo wrapping his right thigh, though the dragon's nose and tongue were hidden under the snug jersey.

"And turn again."

He returned his hands behind his head like a good submissive, not realising that the ridges of his cock cage were visible through the soft fabric. Only when his jacket flapped open, admittedly. And I was very close to the view.

The obvious thing to do would be to have him nude up there, twirling for all to see.

I didn't like to be obvious. Besides, I liked how he looked in the elegant blazer-like jacket, his black stippled ink blending with the dark grey wool. He was someone it was worth earning the submission of, not a wheedling 'humble' chap promising to offer you everything, as long as it got them off. Technically he was obeying Catherine's commands tonight, but I wanted to ensure he'd be obedient to me, too.

"Lovely. Keep the jacket. Put your shoes back on. Here."

A man always looks good in shined black leather brogues. Even with bare legs.

Jake blinked, but bent over to obey. I thought detected the outline of a plug in his arse. When he tied the second shoelace, I was sure of it. Something large. He must have inserted it when he'd gone to the Gents in the restaurant. Or before?

I remembered his embarrassment at having to show off his caged cock and plugged arse just to me, the last time I'd met him and Cat. He must be expecting to have to do similar here. Though I supposed strangers and other definite subs was a different audience, emotionally, to someone like me, whom he'd known on an equal, clothed, basis up to that point.

He stood up straight again, hands back behind his head, feet apart, trying to look as assured and confident as it's possible for a trouserless man to look. Not very. He resembled an actor in a bedroom farce. We just needed the vicar to pop in.

"Nicely done. Now, give me your pants."

Any man with no trousers and his cock on show would struggle to look confident.

Jake's face screwed up, anguished, but he was resigned. He nodded, convincing himself more than me that he could, would, oblige. He pushed his waistband down, down, then bent over again. He tiptoed out of the stretchy fabric and passed his underpants to me.

"Thank you," I told him. I made a show of sniffing them, before adding them to my bag. Men always get nervous about what you might think of any scent. Jake's undies smelled mildly of fresh sweat, and possibly a drop of cum or piss, totally inoffensive, but I said "Hmm..." just to keep him on his toes.

He was, I saw, rocking into his toes, his feet back together, arse clenched. His arms held his jacket in place, closed.

"Put your hands up again, Jacob."

Slowly, he cooperated.

"Thank you. Now part your legs, again."

I reached out and stroked and groped the insides of his thighs until they were parted to my satisfaction. He seemed miserable, struggling. Even when I fondled his balls.

I stood up and took his hand in mine. "OK?"

He gave the smallest possible nod as he squeezed my fingers twice. That confirmed that while he could object, and was considering it, much of him really wanting to run away, he would obey me. For now. Jake put his hands back in the requisite position.

"Good boy. Now give me a twirl again."

I sat back to admire the view. The steel wires of his caged cock gleamed when light hit, his jacket flaring out and exposing them to the room.

Much more vivid was the lurid lime-green flange across his butt-crack, belonging to the plug up his arse. The thing was amazingly ugly. No wonder he'd been embarrassed to drop his pants!

I reached out to fondle the plug, rolling it around. Jake, scarlet-faced, let me. I supposed my arm blocked it from everyone else's sight.

"Your choice of colour?"

"God, no!" Jake remembered himself. "No, Mistress selected it. It glows in the dark."

"How handy," I murmured.

Jake chuckled at the sarcasm, still very much himself despite standing semi-nude on a pedestal, hands raised.

"Right. Give me your jacket." I passed him his drink in exchange. "Stand up straight. Drink up, but no slurping. Oh, drop the other hand! One up looks silly."

Another silent nod. He sipped his lemonade while I knocked back the rest of my glass. Then I stood up, and took my time stroking his body. Of course, what with him standing on the squat table and being about a foot taller than me to start with, I couldn't really reach above his lovely pierced nipples, but that was hardly a hardship!

I flicked a nipple ring. "Do you ever add weights to those? Get weights added, rather?"

Resigned, Jake nodded. "Yeah. There's some in the side pocket of the bag." A deep breath. "Cat would want me to tell you: one set or the other, not both. And not for more than ten minutes. Fifteen, at the outside."

"Noted. Good boy, for telling me. Do you like them?" I looped my little finger into one ring, and pulled very gently, until he squirmed, arse clenching.

"I don't know! Kinda, but added to anything else going on, it's so much..."

I tried to translate, given everything Cat had explained last time we'd met. "Do you mean, the weight is nice, erotic, but if they swing, it gets painful? And not in a sexy way, after a while?" I was extrapolating from my own experience of weighted nipple clamps.

"Yeah, that's it! Sorry. Yes, ma'am."

"Mm-hm. And tell me, how do you cope with predicaments? Say, if you happened to be told to stay still, so such weights didn't hurt, but of course as a beating gets harder, it's more and more difficult not to move...?"

Jake stared at me in pure horror. The way he'd flipped to wrap his arms round his chest, all protective, still holding his glass, made his feelings very clear. I kissed his stomach, to reassure him.

"Right. Just straight spanking and beating, then. If it hurts, tough. Deal with it, because I want to see you squirm and beg."

The anguished look faded back to resigned. "As you wish, ma'am. And because my Mistress wants to see my marks, after."

"Ah, yes. Decorating you for her, that was the agenda item! Tell me, are you someone who likes heavy thuddy impacts, or stingy whippy ones? Bruises versus red welts, I suppose?"

"Whips and red lines," Jake said firmly.

"What, really, leh?"

I must have failed to disguise my reaction, because Jake chuckled. "You submit too, don't you? Sometimes. You much prefer bruises, you say? I'll remember that."

I couldn't have that level of cheek, no matter that yes, at some point in the future we might swap roles, and yes, I was a wimp when it came to whip marks. Especially not if he thought that could help him get out of what was coming tonight. I pulled on his nipple rings until he winced.

It was annoying, the fact that I couldn't hiss in his ear, so high above my head. I'd just have to be loud. "Don't you disrespect me, young Jacob! I'm here in place of your Mistress, doing everything your Mistress would do. Would you try changing the subject on Catherine? Suggesting you spank her, instead? Hm? I'll be reporting back to her, on your behaviour, remember!"

Various people turned round to stare. Good. He deserved to be embarrassed, after that.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll... I'll take whatever form of beating you choose to give me, ma'am."

Was he genuinely contrite? I doubted it.

"And so you should," I told him firmly. I took his empty glass. "Now, there's people looking at you, so: time you to bend over, steady, like that. And turn from side to side. Yes, so everyone in the bar can see that hideous glowing thing you've shoved up your arse. I know, Mistress chose it, but you like big things up your bum, is it? Don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." His cheeks were going red, not just because his head was on the level of his cock. A bit below my chin.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite hear that. Louder, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Whole sentences, please, boy!" I had a flashback to a frankly terrifying old schoolteacher of mine.

"I like big things up my arse, ma'am!"

"Better." I scrunched his hair in my hand, messing it up. "But I don't think the whole room heard. And it's really rather important info everyone should know, don't you think? Actually, I don't care what you think! Nice strong voice, please, from the diaphragm! Tell your audience! You like putting big plugs up your arse."

Shouting while bent double wouldn't be easy, but I'd let him off even if his voice didn't carry well.

His eyes flashed pure hatred, but he took the best deep breath he could.

"I like putting big plugs up my arse!" he intoned, even more resonant than I'd hoped.

Fifty people turned to stare. Jake couldn't see most of them, but he'd hear the feet shuffling and drinks being set down.

I smiled. "Now, Jacob, dear. Show everyone how much you like being plugged. Fuck yourself with it. In and out."

If looks could kill, I'd be both dead and dying slowly. But Jake said nothing. He didn't argue, just took a breath, then silently grasped the handle of his lime green butt plug in his right hand, pulling it most of the way out.

And pushed it back in, moaning softly.

"Again. More."

He obeyed. His movements became faster, harder, fucking himself as best he could with the most ghastly yellow-green toy I'd ever seen. Did Cat order him into darkrooms, to satisfy strangers with his hands and mouth?

Inside the metal wire cage, Jake's cock twitched. He paused a moment.

"Keep going. You love that ugly cock fucking your arse, you. Show everyone how hard you like it!"

He took a deep breath, and punched that dildo into his arse as powerfully as he could, back and forth. A beautiful boy, showing off how he could take being fucked.

His cock tried to swell. Of course, it couldn't. Jake screwed up his face as it began to hurt there, contrasting horribly to how good it must feel in his behind.

"Stop, Jacob."

He stilled. His cock deflated. I took the plug off him, tucking it away in a plastic bag. Then I took his hand and led him back down to floor level.

"Mm. You're adorable. So obedient, so sexy. Not just a simpering sub."

"A cock cage isn't a substitute for a personality," he observed, with a sideways glance at a whinging man in the corner.

I grinned, and hugged him from behind, my naked boy. Jake certainly wasn't lacking in personality. The velvet of my black dress rubbed over his bottom and back as I lay my face between his grey-inked shoulder blades. "So lovely. I knew you would be. I can't wait for you to show off your pleasuring skills!"

"I'm ready, when you are."

"I know, pet," I said, tweaking one of those nipple rings again because I just couldn't resist. "It's so tempting. But I did promise your wife I'd return you with a sore backside. Be well looked after. So we best do that first, hor? Right?" I added, when he didn't answer.

"As you wish. Where do you want to go?"

He wasn't just nervous. Definitely a bit excited. The lad clearly got off on most of what was done to him, however painful or humiliating it was. I was looking forward to this!

"Let's find somewhere to tie you to. Next door."

I wrapped my arm round his arse once we'd each hefted a holdall, and guided him into the other large room in the club. The playroom, they called it. More of a dungeon, in an attic. A dozen pieces of play equipment were bolted to the floor. A vaulting box like from school PE was free, and I aimed for it, but a flinch from Jake before he obediently followed reminded me: he really didn't like being bent over furniture. Then I saw an empty A-frame in the corner.

"What happened to that?" I asked a monitor.

"The swing got a rip. Didn't have time to get a new one before tonight, annoyingly."

"Is the frame solid?"

The young man kicked it. "As iron. Feel free."

Perfect. I had black leather wrist cuffs with me. I showed them to Jake, who nodded, back to dutiful silence. Next step, throw two pieces of rope over the top of the frame. Three times on each side, on general principle. Four ends hung down to around the level of Jake's head.

Only one small problem. I hated England sometimes, for making me feel short. "Fetch me something to stand on, sweetheart."

He obeyed, trotting across the room and returning with a chair. He handed it to me, and looked up at the ropes, starting to feel proper concern. Good.

I got him to buckle the cuffs round his wrists, and tested the tightness. "That should work, lah. I'm not suspending you or anything. Just making sure you can't run away!"

Jake grimaced, but said nothing. I flicked him on the nose, like a naughty kitten. "Hold your arms up, but not stretched." I clambered onto the chair again. "Round, and under, and under, and under again," I tied knots in the ropes attached to his cuffs. "And the other one. Now try to pull your arms down? Oh dear, you can't. What a shame. So horribly vulnerable, poor boy. Naked and restrained..." God, he was beautiful!

Jake started to stick his tongue out, but thought better of it before the tip properly escaped his mouth. I grinned at him, confirming I'd noticed, but simply shoved the chair aside so I could move all around my sweet new toy.

He really was gorgeous. The man wasn't on tiptoes, but was standing tall, every muscle on his legs and arms outlined to perfection. His tattoos over chest and back were a tasteful intertwining of birds, animals, and foliage, all in black and white. Rather, dark grey on palest beige skin, with only a few areas near-black, from recent ink, or covering up juvenile impulses.

The large dragon tattoo, which curled round his right thigh, was bolder. Thicker black lines, with some red shading. I wondered if I could match the colour with his bottom? Or would that go more pink, rather than red?

Colour coordination wasn't my priority. I was here to fill in for Cat, following her instructions. Not that I'd suffer of course; it would be Jake suffering... And getting off from it, in some sense -- not the obvious one! I beckoned the playroom monitor over, to request permission to check my phone for more messages. I expected to be asked to leave the club to do so, while he minded Jake, but he simply watched while I scrolled through the messages from Cat. There was a new series of them, with advice.

- Tap his balls, gently, long time, with ruler.

- Careful pulling and twisting them -- I want to use his sperm one day!

- Scratching good. back thighs bum.

- See how he takes a flogging? (below kidneys only) but spanking, crops and canes are where it's at.

-Looking forward to seeing the results!

I showed the texts to Jake, to see how he'd respond. Especially as it was too late to escape.

The boy's lips pressed together, repressing a whimper. So I hugged him. I enjoyed holding his naked body to my dressed one, rubbing my dress against his skin. I gave him a few kisses over his shoulder blades. I wasn't sure whether he or Cat would be comfortable if I kissed his mouth, but it was a moot point. He couldn't bend, and I couldn't reach.

I kissed down the dots of the leopard and the fine-lined kingfisher inked on his back, then nuzzled his undecorated arse.

That plain white area was going to have to change.

So I slapped him. His pale English bottom was slightly furry, but not enough to detract from flashes of pinkness appearing.

It was fun to get my hands on it, kneading, pressing, pinching, scratching, more sharp slaps. I tried a gentle punch, but he was right -- he really found that hard to take, scampering a couple feet away from me. Futile, but I got the point.

"A nice warm-up," I called up to his ear. "Now, it was my flogging which caught Cat's attention when she met me at Skin Two. What's your opinion on being beaten with a flogger?"

Terrified, yet wishing to obey his Mistress, if I interpreted his silence correctly. I drew out three floggers, to show them to him.

One, with falls of soft suede, but a hundred of them. Beautiful for sensual play, but if you managed to make them all land at once, it was a heavy thump! Another with nearly as heavy a bundle of thongs, square-cut rough leather. My favourite for whacking someone with, creating dark bruises quickly, as you could really hit with force!

The third, I used less often. Not as heavy as the others, but the black falls were of round rubber strands, perfectly smooth. I hated the sting of rubber on skin -- it stung. But that might work, for Jake.

I swung it gently onto his back. He gasped. Cute. I let half a dozen strokes nip him, going down his back, rhythmically sweeping the fronds together then letting them fly. I adjusted my angle so the ends of the rubber strands bit into him. He gasped on every stroke, but found that much easier to cope with than a hit with the middle of the mass of rubber. He really did prefer stinging sensations to any heavy thud, the strange boy. Everyone's different.

Normally I'd have used the weight of a flogger to make a broad area of red skin, then create bruises on a cute bottom, but that wouldn't get our Jake into the right headspace. So after a couple minutes lazily flogging his back -- all the rubber ends made tiny red dots on his grey and white skin, making the animal tattoos look more alive -- and a couple more doing the same on his bottom, I put the flogger down and rummaged through his holdall.

He was taking deep breaths, but otherwise had stood still and taken it very well. I found the item I'd expected.

"Good boy," I told him, rubbing my hand over that firm round bottom of his. "Now, keep standing still... Yes, toes and heels on the ground, thank you."

I walked round in front of Jake so he could see what I was holding. And build up a proper sense of anticipation.

I'd found two riding crops. One had a tiny leather pad at the end, the other simply had its stiff woven cord end with a flexible section, that was free to act as a whiplash. I winced just looking at it, but according to both Cat and Jake, this was what would get Jake off.

I started with the crop with the leather end. Facing him, I wondered what his facial expression meant. Sort of eager, somewhat nervous, I supposed.

Cat hadn't said not to, so I flicked his nipples with the end of the crop, his nipple rings pulling from side to side. He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut. I interpreted that as him not enjoying it, but could endure it for a while if I wanted. Not being bothered myself, I slid the crop down his chest towards his locked-away cock and those beautiful dangling balls.

He was suddenly much more interested, I could tell. As Cat had recommended, it was time to hurt his bollocks a bit.

First I took his heavy balls in my hand. The fantastic smooth skin and their weight made them fascinating to me. I rubbed them -- and thus also his trapped cock -- against the velvet of my dress.

The boy purred. I enjoyed that reaction. But I wouldn't let life be that easy for him!