The Bully Pt. 17

"Clean the floor too," Samantha instructed me, as there were a few droplets of blood on the surface of the carpet, presumably from where I had just been kneeling.

If I was injured in any way, Samantha didn't give a fuck and was already moving on to the next step of her plan.

"Are you positive that the CumSlut won't be home tonight?" she began coldly.

"Yes, Samantha," I assured her. "Lela will be gone all night."

"Here's what happens next, Mark," Samantha said, leaving no room for discussion. "We are going to go to your place and get my stuff. Then we can figure out an appropriate punishment for your indiscretions. You can drive us."

With that, Samantha unhooked the strap-on and ordered me to pull my pants up. Picking up the light-blue panties that she had torn from me, she held them aloft and spoke.

"That's a sixty-five dollar pair of panties, by the way," she informed me. "I am going to add that to your bill."

Samantha's latest Maserati would have been very conspicuous in my neighborhood, so I felt some relief when she instructed me to drive us over there in my car. However, as we headed towards my house, I found myself wishing that I had arrived alone with a couple of minutes to spare, in order to present the incriminating evidence in a more favorable light.

Samantha was all business as we entered my front door.

"Where did you stash it?" she asked firmly.

I could feel the shame wash over me as I answered meekly. "Under my bed, Samantha."

"Which is where?" she asked coldly.

My heart was pounding in my chest as we walked down the hallway to my master bedroom. My house was impressive by most standards, but it paled in comparison to Samantha's, and I could sense her judgment as we entered the bedroom that Lela and I shared. As Samantha stood in the doorway with her arms folded, making no effort to hide her contempt, I reached under the bed and pulled out the pile of stolen intimates.

I hoped that Samantha didn't notice the fact that the pilfered silkies were covered in my semen, but as the crumpled pile emerged from beneath the bed, my container of KY-jelly came into view, perched as it was atop the stolen items.

"Did you jerk off on my Agent Provocateur lingerie, Mark?" Samantha asked in horror. "Have you any idea how expensive that shit is? Or how hard I have to work in order to treat myself to such indulgences?"

We stood there in silence, observing the ridiculous sight of her soiled intimates. Samantha seemed to struggle to process the depths of my depravity, but within a few moments she appeared to come to an uneasy understanding. A light went on in her head, and she phrased her next question.

"Did you ever take my suit to Dress For Success, Mark?" she asked, as I stood there with a guilty look on my face.

I could feel the walls tumbling around me, as I contemplated the ramifications of my deceit. Caught red-handed, I immediately fessed up to my additional crime.

"I kept it, Samantha," I said in abject embarrassment. "It held so many memories for me. I just couldn't let it go."

"Well, that impulsive decision is going to cost you two grand," Samantha said firmly. "That was a fucking Fendi tailored suit, for fuck's sake, Mark. I forgave you when you showed up wearing it at the Honeymoon Suite, reeking of urine. However, to learn that you made the unilateral decision to keep it, instead of donating it to charity as directed, really pisses me off."

I remained in silence as Samantha continued to berate me, fully aware that my actions were indefensible. Finally, after several moments of Samantha venting her anger, she informed me of her expectations.

"Here's what is going to happen, Mark," Samantha said firmly. "You are going to transfer two thousand dollars into my account to reimburse me for my Fendi suit. Then, first thing tomorrow morning, you need to go to Agent Provocateur, La Perla and the rest of the luxury stores itemized on my list, and replace the pilfered intimates. It goes without saying that I am a VIP client so they will know my size as I have an account at each store. When you arrive you will need to ask for the Store Manager, and I will inform each manager of the reason for your visit, you dirty panty-thief. Understood?"