The soothing, bergamot-scented room perfume diffused throughout our suite was long gone. Its delicate notes were no match for the visceral stench of power exchange and sex in the air.
Princess kneeled in the same spot where I had placed her an hour and an half earlier - an unreasonable length of time by any standard.
--
Her recent attitude had left me with little alternative.
I would usually indulge her brattiness when we were "out and about" and the playful threats I issued about the correction to come were my merely my way of signalling that funishment was my only intent.
When we met that night, however, I was feeling measuredly less playful.
Princess knew that my time in her city would be packed with difficult, blackly stressful meetings. I had also made it known to her how very important it was to make herself available without question or complication for my release.
Nevertheless, a few hours before we had been due to meet on the Tuesday, she had postponed our date until the following evening citing some family issue preventing her getting away.
Leaving me abandoned, in a bad mood and feeling somewhat vengeful, I decided to fuckhunt myself a fat, middle aged woman from the soulless bar of my depressing business hotel. The ensuing vanilla connection was even more soulless than the bar, and put me in an even worse and even more vengeful mood.
My trip to the mall with Princess the following night only served to drive me deeper into my need for her penance.
One of my greatest pleasures in life is to be out and about with Princess. On the one hand, we focus inwardly on our world of loving intimacy, her taking my hand as we cross a road, me snaking my arm about her waist from behind as we travel up an escalator; on the other hand, we outwardly signal to the moralistic and uneducated public the silent and limitless power of interpersonal dominance and submission, she displaying her devotion to me through her alluring obedience and self-control, and I showing them how good a girl she has become under my instruction.
I had of course made her aware of my annoyance with her before we met, but when she came to greet me in the busy main atrium of the mall that evening she had been either too stupid to adjust her attitude to compensate or she had made a deliberate decision to provoke me.
Her embrace when we met in the atrium had been chaste, fleeting and lukewarm. Thereafter, she had very little to say for herself. She made no attempt to take my hand and, judging by the dragging of her feet and the slouching of her body as we walked deeper into the mall, she seemed to have abandoned all sense of my requirement for her to be perfectly composed in public.
I had planned initially to buy her some bits and pieces, as I know she adores, but her sorry display made me change course. I had earlier identified a bathroom in a secluded part of the mall in case I needed to take her in hand, which moment had clearly now arrived. Without a word of warning, I grasped her wrist and pulled her in the direction of the bathroom.
"Unplanned inspection," I growled at her.
I felt some initial resistance as I pulled her along, but it didn't last. Steering her in the direction of the bathroom with my hand around her wrist, I shoved open the door with my free hand and drove her inside. I pushed her up against the sinks, glanced quickly at the stall doors to check we were alone and turned to face her.
"Show me," I ordered.
Princess had outwardly observed my requirements for her appearance: nerdy in spectacles and pigtails, and wearing a cute blue puffy-hemmed babydoll-style dress just short enough to draw the attention of other men.
But when she lifted her dress (nervously, and with good reason it turned out) I saw that she had committed a serious mistake by defying my choice for her underwear.
Where I expected cute, girly and light pink, I was greeted by frumpy, grannyish and grey.
Worse, a panty liner was peeking at me grotesquely out of the sides of her disgusting underwear.
She had told me once that she wore panty liners because she feared her overactive pussy would leak into her clothes during the day but I had strictly forbidden this practice in my presence.
I gripped her by the shoulders, span her around to face the mirrors and forced her hands down to hold the edge of the sink in front of her. Pushing her hips backwards and her lower back down to present her ass, I simultaneously threw her dress up over her back, grabbed a fistful of the faded underwear and twisted it hard so that it pulled tight, digging into into her pale skin. I brought my mouth close to the side of her face.
"What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You," I spat into her ear.
With each word, I tugged harder and harder at her underwear. On the last word, I ripped the horrible garment clean away from her body.
The panty liner fell to the floor with an ugly damp plop. She was evidently already wet.
I wasn't going to waste my time waiting for her reply. I spanked her there and then with great force three times on each off her perfect, delicate ass cheeks.
Stinging red handprints appeared, quicker than the teary film which brimmed up in her eyes. My heart was racing, my cock as hard as rock.
"Sir," she began, but I cut her off.
"Shut up, you stupid brat."
Somehow controlling the urge to strike her again, I stepped back slightly and took a few deep breaths to still my mind.
Princess remained in position, her dress hoisted up, her ass on display to anyone who might walk in, the torn underwear on the floor. She knew better than to move at this point. She titled her head down to the floor. A few moments passed.
"You disappoint me, Princess. You've known all along that events in this city would put me on edge, but you've done nothing to help me through it. First you cancel on me, then you defy my request for your underwear by wearing these...VILE...things." I kicked at the panties and sent them skidding across the floor to the entrance to the bathroom. "What's happened to you?"
"Sir, I'm just so dumb," she started. I cut her off again.
"I'm beginning to think you're the dumbest girl in this entire mall."
"I am, Sir," she whispered. Then, louder, "I wanted to wear the panties you requested, but my mum hadn't finished washing them before I was due to leave."
"And so you dared to show up in those things instead?" I asked in utter disbelief, jabbing my finger towards the panties by the door.
"Yes, Sir." She paused. She looked up at me, a single tear now running down each cheek. "I wanted you to punish me for failing you, so I picked the worst pair I could find."
"You certainly did, Princess. And it's had the desired effect. On you. The effect on me is somewhat less pleasing. And the panty liner?"
"Because my pussy has been leaking continually since I let you down yesterday. I get so slippery knowing I've disappointed you, Sir, and I know I will only get wetter if I feel the shame of it leaking into my clothes. I had to do something to keep it under control."
"That's no excuse. Everything about you belongs to me, Princess, including whatever comes out of you. Your slime is mine - I decide what happens with it." I reached roughly between her legs from behind and groped a handful of her wetness. I brought my fingers to my mouth to taste.
I took another few slow breaths, wiped the remnants of her juice on the inside of her dress then pulled it back down. I eased her away from the sink in the direction of the bathroom entrance.
"Underwear store. Now."
As we left the bathroom, an old uncle came shambling up to the door. I held it open for him, and watched his puzzled expression as he navigated around the torn underwear lying on the threshold. Good riddance, I thought, as I stepped over it.
--
Things in the underwear store were slightly better. Princess had regained her composure after my punishment and seemed now to remember to be polite to me and the shop assistant helping us out. I explained to the assistant that my friend was looking for something cute, girly and light pink. The assistant brought us around the store to view some of the pairs she had available in Princess' size.
For each pair that Princess liked, I said no. This went on for the first six or seven pairs. I could see Princess was getting frustrated and even a little embarrassed that I had chosen to give her no agency.
I pressed the assistant to find cuter and cuter pairs until she finally got something which suited my preference - little bows at the front, and cut just high enough at the back to expose the gentle swell of the lower part of Princess' wonderful ass. The assistant offered the matching bra but I declined, telling her that Princess was still young enough not to need support and in any case her breasts were really quite small. The assistant didn't know how to react to that, but the blush rising on Princess' neck showed me that she certainly did.
"No need for a carrier," I said at the check out, "and please remove the tags. My friend will wear them now." I glanced at Princess who had the presence of mind to smile meekly at the assistant as she held out her hand for the underwear. Flicking my eyes to her breasts, I could see her nipples were erect against the material of her dress. At least she was doing something right.
She started to move off in the direction of the fitting room. I touched her lightly on the forearm.
"Don't complicate things, Princess. Put them on here."
"Yes, Sir." She bent at the knees to preserve her modesty, stepped into the underwear and pulled it up. I caught a flash of her soft buttocks as she did so. They were still showing signs of the spanking she had received. The assistant was looking down at the check out counter, clearly embarrassed for Princess.
"Thank you for your help today, ma'am."
"Yes, thank you, ma'am," Princess echoed.
--
I continued around the shops with Princess, but wasn't in the mood to buy her anything else. She pleaded and pouted at my various refusals and by the last shop I publicly scolded her for being such a materialistic brat.
My mood hadn't improved, and the only thing keeping me going was the fact I was keeping her wet by treating her like this in public.
When we got to the restaurant her brattiness continued about what she wanted to eat and drink - by our rules, these were my choices alone.
The rules did allow her to specify preferences but only where she did so nicely. Her repeated "I want, I want, I want" fell woefully below the standard.
