Shopping Day

She turned off His computer a bit reluctantly, knowing that when she did she would have to start her chores. She hated doing chores. She spun around in his large computer chair, kicking off to spin a few times, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of weightlessness it seemed to give her. Slowing to a halt, she sighed heavily, looking around the chambers.

The bed was unmade. The furniture all needed polishing and dusting. The floor was in dire need of a vacuuming and the kitchen counter and sink held the remnants of the last night's dinner and that morning's breakfast. Their closet was a war zone in itself, screaming to be organized. Then there was, of course, the spare room, still clogged with orphan items; things that had no place or home. She groaned as the list grew, remembering that the car needed cleaning, too. Master pointed out some of these things to her, the rest didn't need pointing out. She just knew they needed to be done. She knew there was only one thing to do.

Go shopping.

She grinned as the idea blossomed in her mind. She never wore shoes anymore, except heels when he would take her out, or her red boots, which only became better with age. She didn't wear clothes much, either, but that didn't mean she didn't need some new ones. She wiggled in the chair, the idea gaining more and more favor. She scooted from his chair and bounded to the closet. She found a little sundress, easy to pull on and off in the changing rooms, and a little pair of thongs, perfect for trying on tight little jeans. She slid her small feet into a pair of sandals, and then looked at her image in the mirror. She smiled, pleased with her reflection, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, her lips rouged a gentle pink. Giggling, she kissed her reflection, leaving an outline of pearlescent color on the glass. Twirling, she made her way out of the chambers.

The clock was striking seven as she made her way back into the chambers, her arms and hands full of boxes and bags. She threw everything on the unmade bed and began to tear into the boxes, grinning with delight at her purchases. Pulling a new dress from one box, she held it to her body, gliding around the room with it held to her, giggling happily, feeling giddy. Dropping the dress on the bed, she pulled a pair of new denim capris from the bag of clothes, plopping on the bed to wiggle into them, enjoying how they clung to her shapely hips and thighs. Snatching her new hat, the cowboy variety, worn and bent, far too expensive, festooned with purple and red feathers, she danced around, her head back, holding the hat on her head, spinning. Opening her eyes as she spun, she came to an awkward halt, uttering a deep gasp, almost colliding with him.

He seemed to have materialized out of thin air, she thought, her cheeks warm with blush. Without thinking, she sank to her knees, the quirky little hat still on her head. Her eyes lowered to the floor as she laced her hands behind her, her basic instincts making her position perfect, her small body quivered with delight at seeing Him. She knelt silent before him, waiting for him to speak. She frowned softly, his silence unusual. She glanced up a little ways, slightly dismayed at seeing his hand clenching to a fist, then unclenching slowly. She spoke softly, shyly. "Master?"

It was a long moment before he spoke. "Been shopping, pet?"

She wriggled on her heels as she answered, feeling the tension in his voice. Her belly knotted a bit. "Yes, Master, I have been. A little."

She dared a glance up at him only to find him glaring down at her.

"I don't recall giving you permission to go shopping, pet. And I distinctly recall giving you instructions to get your work done while I was gone." She watched him with a growing sense of dread as he looked around the room, his eyes darkening quickly. "It seems that when I'm gone you do as you please." She winced as he looked down at her. She quickly lowered her eyes, biting the inside of her lip anxiously.

He walked from her, making a circle of the room, silently inventorying the work she hadn't done. She watched him, her belly tightening more as he went from room to room, his eyes and face darkening with each step. She stayed where she was, kneeling on the floor where he had left her, uttering a soft little whimper when she felt him close behind her, his boots flanking her hips.

"Any explanation, slave?"

He drew the last word out in a sarcastic drawl. Her heart skipped a beat as he spoke, knowing the inflection was intentional, the intention being to remind her of her place. It worked. It always worked. She dropped her eyes and whispered softly.

"I needed some new clothes, Master." As soon as she said it, she recognized it for the lame reason it was, but she was too late. She felt him snatch the playful hat from her head, eliciting a soft cry. He held it clenched in his fist and thrust it in front of her face, his powerful grip distorting the familiar shape, mashing the feathers.

"You needed this? My slave, who I prefer naked at all times, needed new clothes?" He growled deeply, softly, raising the tiny hairs on the nape of her slender neck, dropping the mangled hat in her lap. "When did you expect to do the rest of your chores, pet? Did you suppose that they would be done all on their own? That, miraculously, they would be done when you returned? Or was it that you were expecting me to do them?" He entwined his hand in her flaxen hair almost stealthily, tightening to a painful fist as he emphasized the word "me". She gasped in pain, the fire spreading through her scalp. He twisted her hair around his fist and shook her hard, wrenching a cry of pain from her. He spoke through tight lips and clenched teeth. "I expect an answer to my questions, slave."

"No, Master," she answered in a desperate, agonized whimper. "No, Master...please."

Growling softly, ignoring her soft pleas, he pulled her up by her hair, lifting her slightly off her knees. Giving a ragged cry, she tried to struggle to her feet, only to be pulled off balance as he dragged her over to his chair and unceremoniously over his left knee, pinning her peddling legs with his right. Reaching under her, his practiced fingers opened her jeans, button and zipper. Using both hands, he gripped her waistband and yanked the tight denim down and over the soft, round globes of her ass, shoving them down as far as her knees, pinning her further. Foregoing any gentleness, he gripped the crotch of her tiny panties with his large fist and tore them from her, lifting her up slightly, the material burying itself deep in her rear crevice and lips before rending and leaving her body.

"Master! Please!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry!"

"I don't think you are, pet. Not yet, anyway. But...you will be." Smiling tightly, he pressed his arm between her slender shoulder blades, pinning her down. She groaned deeply, knowing from years of experience that he meant business, recognizing the tacit signal that he was about to begin blistering her ass.

His spanks are hard and fast from the very beginning; none of the sweet warm spanks that he usually gave her when building her excitement. She loved those sweet swats, slow and even. She hated these - these wicked hot spanks, heat, pain and tears their only result. These spanks made it very clear that she was being punished, that he was angry with her and meant to make a point.

She took the first hot spanks in stoic quiet, her resolve quickly crumbling as he spanked the tender juncture of her ass and thighs, the resolve gone and replaced with cries as his hand lit fire to her pale thighs. She gasped and panted, inhaling deeply when he paused. Her cries quickly turned into apologies, couched in teary sobs. His own quiet struck dread into her, knowing his concentration was intense. She panted deeply in the short pause, trying to catch her breath, so when the strap fell on her crimson cheeks, she was able to howl in dismay and pain, which pleased him.

The leather strap, thick and short, never failed to inspire her to new heights of distress, especially during a punishment. She left behind all pretenses of control as he laid into her with the wicked implement, inspiring her to wail and sob and to plead with him, promising her obedience. He simply growled and whipped her soundly, knowing the strap spoke very eloquently for him.

Pausing, he ran his large hand over her throbbing, crimson ass cheeks and spoke softly, the low words penetrating her soft sobbing. "Have I made my point, slave?"

"Yes, Master." Her words, soft and choked, were just as clear to him.

"And what have you learned, slave?" His hand never stopped moving, rubbing and squeezing, eliciting soft, pained moans from her inverted form.

"That I should always do what you put forth for me to do before doing what I wish to do." She sobbed softly, quivering.

He slowly raked his nails over the tender flesh, smiling as she squealed shrilly, tensed, then collapsed over his thigh. "And....?"

She struggled to speak through her hoarse, quick breaths. "That your word is law...that I am only here to please you...that I will do what you say, always." Falling limp over his thigh, she sobbed softly.

"Good. Just a bit more reinforcement and I'll know you've truly learned." His words barely penetrated her woozy mind, her eyes popping open wide in realization before the strap fell again, spanning her ass cheeks easily, setting them ablaze. She bucked and twisted, writhing over his knee, desperate to stop the merciless whipping, her ass an inferno. But she was held tight by his leg and arm, a prisoner to the punishment he meted out. Five, ten, fifteen, then twenty strikes with the strap saw her buck and howl, then collapse over his thigh, taking the last five strokes with only a jerk of her small body. Finally, he laid down the strap, running his large hand over the swollen, crimson orbs, listening to her sobs and hiccoughs, smiling. He waited until her sounds softened and waned, then lifted her up off of his lap, strong hands around her waist. She stood to his side, deeply chagrined and chastised, her head bowed and her cheeks stained with tears, hiccoughing softly as she caught her breath.

"To the corner, slave. You'll stand there until I tell you to leave it."

"Yes, Master." Sniffling softly, she retreated to the corner, still hogtied by her jeans around her knees, soft hands stealing around to rub the wild sting. He stood and followed her, smacking her ass sharply, eliciting a shrill squeal. "And you know better than to rub!"

So, she stood in the corner, her hands held before her, her soft round ass throbbing and sore, sniffling softly. He returned to his chair, where only a sidelong glance would reveal her every action, and smiled.