Two Toys

Once she's stilled, I grab her hair again and use it to lift her shoulders up. As I do I pull her back slightly, dropping her onto her knees at my side. Then I swivel my chain so I'm facing her, looking down upon her as I stare into her eyes. She knows what I expect of her.

"Miss Rodgers," veronica sobs out, her voice more crying than speaking. Her face is the wet mess I expected. I can see the tears running down her eyes. I can that her makeup is ruined. And her face is so adorably scrunched up. Her eyes are even a little red and puffy! "I am really so sorry for not trimming my slutty pussy properly, like a good bitch, Ma'am. Thank you so much for punishing me to help me remember that I have to follow the rules like a good girl, Ma'am. I promise to try my hardest to trim my pussy from now on so you won't have to spank me again, Ma'am."

I sigh, "go back to your chair and sit, fucktoy."

A look of pure horror immediately sweeps over Veronica's face. The horror of just thinking about sitting on her fiery, stinging bottom. And knowing that she will have to endure that pain. I won't tolerate her sitting differently, or even showing the pain too much. I said sit. I expect her to sit. The burning sting in her bottom is her punishment for her disobedience. I won't accommodate it. That's part of her punishment, living with the so-sharp stinging for however long it lasts. Not lying on her stomach. Going about her life just as she would have she not been spanked. Only with a very sore bottom. A bottom that will continuously remind her that she has to behave. And that I'm smart enough that she can't cheat me. And remind her how high the price of trying to cheat me is. It will ensure she doesn't try anything for several more weeks.

I watch as she walks over to the seat on nervously wobbly legs. She sits a little slowly. The chair looks rather soft and comfortable, but it is intended for rich investors, not employees. Even so, I hear a sharp, sucking, intake of breath as her bottom touches the leather. And I see her face wrinkle up tight. She sits. I hear the strain in her breaths as she sits there.

I let her sit and wait a minute or so. It's enough time for the sting to really make its way all through those cheeks. Then I start. I tell Veronica to go through the pile of clothes on the other chair and get all of her jewelry together. And give it to me.

Veronica obeys, very happily. At least happy that it gives her a chance to roll her hips as she reaches over, shifting her weight onto the side of her globe and her hip instead of her fiery bottom. She moves a little quickly shifting that weight, then a little slowly as she picks through her things. When she's gotten everything, I tell her to bring it to me.

She doesn't mind that at all. It lets her get up from the chair and off that beet red bottom. She walks around behind her desk, where I'm sitting, and kneels. She kneels with her knees spread wide apart, her feet just as wide, and her bottom sitting back between her heels. With her back straight and rigid, she holds her hands up six inches in front of her pencil-eraser wide light-pink nipples. She has her hands level with her nipples, her palms upturned and flat. Her jewelry is resting atop her hands as she offers it to me.

I take it all. I leave her there, silently kneeling and watch as she sees me toss her things, some of the nicer things she owns, into my purse. She can't see that I have a little bag in there that I'm dropping them into. But she knows what it means. I'm taking them from her. She might get them back. But only whenever I decide to give them to her. And she knows that if she asks for them, I will donate them to charity (in her name). She's not allowed to ask for them, or anything. Her place is a toy's place. To accept whatever her Queen wishes her to accept. I can see the unhappy reluctance on her face as she watches them go. I know she's wondering when, and especially if, she'll see them again.

I send her back to sit in the chair. Then I tell her to bring me her bra. She does, and it joins her jewelry in the little bag in my purse. I send her back to the chair again. I'm doing it purposely. I'm making her sit on that bottom over and over again. Making her refresh the sting. Make her really feel it. I'm sure she's smart enough to realize I'm doing it, too. And smart enough not to say anything. Maybe she thinks I'm doing it, something I don't do often because I eased up the spanking a little since she's in her office where (she thinks) neither of us would want her to scream out loudly enough to bring anyone in. I tell her to bring me her panties.

"Here are my panties, Ma'am," Veronica humbly offers them to me atop her upturned palms. "They are the same ones, fresh off my naughty bottom, that I had on my untrimmed pussy, Miss Rodgers."

I take them. "And I can smell your skanky pussy on them, fucktoy! You really need to stop skanking your panties up so much, or everyone is going to start smelling that slutty pussy between those thighs! Go back to your chair."

She sits, sucking in yet another crisp and strained breath as her cheeks touch the seat. I stuff her panties into the bag.

The phone on her desk rings. "Behave yourself, fucktoy."

"Yes, Ma'am," Veronica answers, already struggling hard to compose her voice.

I hit the speaker button and point for her to answer the call, but also to stay sitting right where she is. And I stare at her hard. "Veronica Hathaway," She answers. I can hear the edge of the pain in her voice, like a slight whining, or sobbing, hint. I guess her secretary doesn't notice it or more likely doesn't care. "Grigori Ulanov is on line three, Ms. Hathaway," she says, "I'll just put him through."

Before Veronica can say anything, Grigori is on the line. "Ms. Hathaway, I'm sorry, but I still haven't made it out of the airport. It is just impossible to get an Uber here! I can't understand why Mobile built the airport so far from downtown! There is nothing here!

"Anyway, I assume my aide has arrived?"

"Yes... She has?" Veronica answers unsurely as she wonders if I'm his aide, or if I just slipped in instead of a tardy aide. I would so do that, and she knows it. I guess she thinks her secretary wouldn't notice either. I guess maybe she needs better help, too.

"Thanks, Grigori." I pipe up. Then I turn to Veronica and look straight into her eyes with a very harsh and stern look. "Veronica, tell Mister Ulanov what we've covered so far."

Veronica pales. Her eyes go wide. She hesitates a second, wondering if I am kidding. How could I seriously expect her to tell him that she just got spanked! He's not a play-friend. He's an important investor. That she knows because the unimportant investors don't get her time. I'm sure her employer equates an investor's importance with his investment. She trembles, once. And she fidgets on her bottom. And the fidgeting brings a harder wince to her face!

I just firmly glare at her. It lets her know that I am serious. She already knows what I expect. No modesty. No shame. No privacy. She's to tell him everything. Honestly. Fully.

"Miss Rodgers made me strip, Sir. Then she saw that my slutty pussy wasn't properly trimmed," Veronica says in a very embarrassed, and quiet, voice. "and she turned me over her knees and spanked me for it, Sir."

Grigori laughs. "You have a very nice butt, Veronica... now I wish I was there to see it spanked. That would have been a good show. Does your boss know that his investors have to spank that pretty butt for coming improperly attired to meetings?"

"NO! Sir!" Veronica blurts out with panic in her voice. "Please, Sir, please don't tell him!"

Grigori is a true Russian, not an American Russian. He was born and raised in a suburb of Moscow. In Russia, especially in the upper echelons of business, it's not unheard of for female employees to be... used as their male bosses wish. It won't be in any job description, but at some levels, it's expected. And in some places, refusal is not really an option. It might get her fired. In a few (Kremlin-quietly-backed) companies she might disappear. He does a lot of business over here, and he knows that over here, it's not expected, and even hinting that it's wanted is likely to get you sued. I'm sure it still happens, just very quietly and far more expensively. But he doesn't mind teasing her.

"Maybe I will not tell him... but I will expect your very best from now on. Your very best... Good afternoon." and then, just before he hangs up, I hear him slightly quietly, under his breath, but certainly loud enough for Veronica to hear, say "slut." I grin widely.

Veronica cringes in her seat. I hold up my camera and snap a quick picture of her demurely sitting there nude. On the "wrong" side of her desk. I text it to Grigori. I haven't a clue where he actually is. He was never coming to this meeting. All I know is the number Nikolai gave me for him is a New York number. But that doesn't mean a thing. He could be in L.A. He could be in Moscow.

Wherever he is, it doesn't take him long to text me back. In Russian, which is fine. My Russian is excellent. "Very perky breasts. I must see them next time I am in her office." I don't know if Grigori plays or not. I don't know if he's a Dom. I don't know him. I just know that he's a friend of Nikolai's. IN Russian, "friend" means that he'll do whatever little favors Nikolai asks. I know enough about Russian business to stay out of it. One misstep into the wrong area, or on the wrong turf, and you might disappear. Russia will forever be Russia, land of the Tsars.

I leave veronica to sit another minute or so and just dwell on the fact that I just sent that picture to Grigori. That he now has proof of what slutty things she does in her office. That he has a naked picture of her that might end up anywhere. Or be used to blackmail her later! Finally, I tell her, "he thinks you have very perky boobs. The next time you see him, you will offer to show them to him. You will not wait until he asks, or hints, to see them. Offer your boobs to him, is that clear, fucktoy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Veronica answers in a very humiliated voice.

"Good. You leave here at five. You will come straight to my apartment. I will teach you about walking around with such a skanky pussy! Do you understand, fucktoy?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. After I leave, you may dress in whatever clothes you have left. Maybe you'll even get some of them on before your next appointment. Until that door closes behind me, you will not move from that seat. Is that clear, fucktoy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Now she sounds nervous and embarrassed. She must be thinking about her office is visible from a narrow slice of the waiting room if I open that door. And how her secretary will likely barge right in the second I'm out that door.

I get up and take my time coming around her desk. I pause beside the naked woman and look over her body. It'll do for this evening. As an afterthought, I reach across her and pick up her blazer. Then I walk out. Veronica is far too nervous and fidgety to notice it, but I casually flip the lock as I'm opening the door, so that the door will relock when I close it. And I make sure it's closed before I move away from the outside of it.

I'm sure Veronica nervously scrambles to pull some clothes on.

Chapter 03: Bringing A Bad Boy

Emily isn't my toy. Not really. She's an 18-year-old high school girl. She impresses me as more than a bit of a bimbo. And as a "hanger-on." And almost as a groupie. I mean that she's so eager to be with the older, and so much cooler, college crowd. And definitely to be able to call herself my friend. Even if deep down she knows she's not really my friend. Maybe an "associate," and definitely an "acquaintance." But not a real friend.

She thrives on and lives for, juicy gossip. And she gets plenty of that when I allow her around us. Which isn't often.

I first met Emily about six weeks ago when I allowed her to "bail" her father out of my playroom. Her father, a 40-year-old widower named Ken, is my toy. He'd been secretly coming to see me for a couple of months before that evening. That evening he was here for his punishment for being an especially bad boy. He'd played with himself, with my cock, without my permission. Obviously, he needed a very good, and very humiliating lesson in minding his Mistress!

His lesson was to suffer the agony of not being allowed to cum. For a couple of days. I didn't want to keep him here the entire time. And I figured nothing would be more humiliating to him than to have to beg his daughter to come fetch him. He did. Emily was eager to come, albeit more for the gossip and social status of claiming to know me personally than to retrieve her father and spare him more of that sweet agony.

Once Emily got here I realized very quickly that not only was she a bimbo, she was also rather flighty. And I realized that she would be willing to play if she nudged slowly into it. I nudged. She jumped in headfirst. I doubt she had a clue what she was getting herself into. But she jumped right in.

I started by telling her that she had to post "bail" to take him home, just to ensure that she'd watch him as she was promising to. "Bail" was a video of Emily having two orgasms. She was rather embarrassed when she made it. But she came very hard when she did. With Sophie's fingers delivering those orgasms. And she was very nervous about ensuring she got that video back. Which she did.

I pity her father. Emily supervised him rather diligently. Then again, she had a lot on the line.

She kept him in line. When she returned him, I had Paige, my house-slave and whore, tease him to the limits of what he could bear. He had just been so bad! Emily missed that, having tea with me and a few of my friends. But she got to see the ending of it. Ken was utterly miserable in his too-sweet agony. He was rather pathetic. I left his relief, if any, up to Emily. She surprised me. She relieved him herself with a blow job. It wasn't a very good one, either. Definitely amateurish and inept. But it easily did the trick for Ken. Okay, maybe I nudged her to help him out... I'd thought she'd use her hand, maybe.

Since then, Emily has imposed a rule on him. If he ever speaks of it, especially to her, she'll "kill him." More accurately, I think, she'll kill his credit limit at every boutique in town. And she'll call me to punish him for it.

He's obeyed the rule. At least in a strict interpretation of it. He hasn't mentioned any of it. But according to Emily, he has been different. He's always complimenting her, telling her things like how pretty she looks today. Looking at her. Wanting to spend more time with her. And definitely asking if she's spoken to me. If she thinks maybe I might want her to bring him to see me again.

Emily isn't too happy about it, either. Like any girl would, she knows what he wants. Another one of those blow jobs. Hopefully with a good dose of humiliation and discipline to go along with it. Things Emily has no intention of delivering. I know she wouldn't have even done it that once if she'd thought about it. Which she didn't. She just got carried away with the slutty scene unfolding all around her and his pitiful pleas. I'm sure she's glad I don't have that on video. Or so she thinks. I do. She doesn't know it.

Before that session, I had been allowing Ken to come about once a month. It was plenty for him, even though if he had the chance, he'd move in and serve me 24/7. Since then, I've stuck to that same schedule. I saw Ken once, about two weeks ago. I made Emily drop him off, take his clothes, and leave him here. Then, return for him when I tired of him. But otherwise, I didn't use Emily in that session.

During these six weeks, I've spoken to Emily a couple of times when she called me. Always supposedly about her father, but I think she just wanted to be able to say she could call me when she wants to. I'm sure it's a status thing for her. So I never said anything about it.

Now I've decided to surprise Ken with a little treat. Of course, it will be given in a very humiliating way. And he will suffer greatly. And I have the perfect treat in mind for him. It will be so amusing! To me, that is. I've decided that it's also time to give Emily another nudge. She's the one who I truly find entertaining. And I want to see how far she can be nudged. I'm pretty sure I could nudge her all the way. If her friends didn't find out about it, that is.

So I called Emily this morning to ask about how Ken was behaving. She told me that he's obeyed my edict and never mentioned anything that happened here. Nor has he asked her directly for anything. But he still looks at her with that puppy-dog hopeful look on his face, and won't stop complimenting her.

I tell her that we'll take care of that. I have a little idea... I ask if she'd be willing to do just a little extra this afternoon. She says she'll gladly do whatever I want if it will get him to stop ogling her! I assure her that I will put him in his proper place.

Then I tell her what I want her to do. I want her to tell Ken, very directly to come with her. She's to take him to her bedroom, not his, and tell him firmly to strip. Then she's to put him in her shower and stand there watching him as he cleans up to come see me. She's to watch closely and I want him to shave, shampoo, and wash. He can just use whatever girly things are in her shower to get ready. Those little pink razors don't care if they're shaving off leg hair or beards! Once he's cleaned up, she's to give him underwear, a shirt, pants, socks, and shoes. Her choice of items. She's to watch him put them on. Then she's to immediately walk him to her car and bring him over here. I'll tell her the rest of it when she gets here. She's invited for supper.

She arrives right at 4:00, as I'd asked. I have Sophie answer the door. It's kind of a slave's place to handle the mundane for her Mistress! As I've asked, Sophie shows the pair in. She points Ken to his place. The toy's place. An empty little place along the wall, just inside the door. I keep it empty just for this. For toys to have a place to stand and wait demurely until I am ready to play with them. And that's what Sophie does, she tells Ken to just stand there until I say otherwise. Then she shows Emily to a seat on the sofa.

I join Emily on the sofa and immediately offer her tea. It's my caffeine source of choice for afternoons. Today Sophie has made a nice green tea with lemon and honey in it. Emily takes a cup.

"So has that dickless little boy been behaving its naughty butt?" I ask Emily. Even though, from her daily emails, I already know the answer. I just want Ken to hear her say it.

"Like, kinda, mostly." She says, a trace of a giggle, and a trace of petulance in her voice. Since his last visit, Ken hasn't been allowed to contact me. He has to go through Emily for that. Which means that he has to tell her some very embarrassing things so that she can email them to me.

Things like how he's watched some "soft" porn twice. Emily made him tell her all about what he watched, so she could tell me. I'm sure he blushed so brightly when he told her that he was watching clips of men getting turned over the knees of pretty young women and spanked. And he's had to tell her when he was horny and wanted to masturbate. I had been allowing him to do that about twice a week, which is how often he really feels the urge to. But these last two weeks I've only allowed it once in 15 days. And that was eight days ago. Since then, he's been suffering, not wanting to endure another punishment for doing it without my permission.

And he's had to tell her about a very pretty woman at work who is also very nice to him. But married. But whom he wishes wasn't. He's had to tell her all the naughty thoughts he's had about that woman. And once she got to tell him that I said, since he was thinking about "some skanky whore" instead of his owner, he would not be allowed to touch himself for three more days.