Kate West was worried. It was late, later than she had planned, and she hoped her new boyfriend was already asleep. They had only been together several months and this was the first time she even though about cheating on him. In fact, cheating wasn't even the right word to describe what had happened. But Kate hoped he was asleep because she didn't want to go through a lengthy explanation.
It had all started innocently enough. The year of 2003 had finally come to an end and all of the office workers in her office had decided to meet for a celebration. She had gone that evening after work to the bar for a round of drinks, as a way of releasing the stress of the past year.
There was a second round, and the group started to break up, and then this stranger offered to buy her one. He looked nice enough, and he wasn't pushy, so she let him. And then Kate bought a round, and it was almost closing time.
He walked out with his arm around her, which was nice. And when they got to the parking lot he kissed her. Not the greatest kiss, but not bad, so she let it last. They walked a little more, until they reached his car. Another kiss and they were in the car. Kate had stupendous breasts and he gave her a quick feel as they sat there. She was drop dead gorgeous and she tended to intimidate men so it was very tentative, almost as if he wanted her to slap him. Then he was touching her through her panties. She started to warm up, could feel herself getting wet, but decided she didn't care for him that much, certainly not enough for her to fuck him.
But he was getting insistent and Kate was trying to stay calm in spite of the wet spot that was growing wetter by the moment. So what was Kate to do? It was obvious, Mrs. Fist and her five daughters. So she unzipped him.
"Let me borrow you handkerchief, please," Kate whispered
He wasn't quick enough to say no and who cares, it was his car anyway, he can clean up the mess in the morning.
And then Kate was out of there, into her car and on the way home, and she could only hope that her lover was already in bed, sound asleep, dreaming of her and not five or six other women. But no such luck. He was in the living room, having a drink, looking very calm and relaxed.
"Our Kate is out late tonight?" he inquired.
"The meeting went longer than planned."
"And then right home after? Didn't stop at a bar, had a drink or two?"
"Why would I do that?" she asked defensively.
He motioned for her to come forward, to where he was sitting.
"Lift up you skirt, please."
"It’s late, Mark, please, do I have to?"
"Lift ..."
Kate was too tired to argue, so she did as instructed. On normal work days, she wore panties and in the winter pantyhose on top. But that day Kate had decided to wear a garter belt and stockings instead. Maybe she thought she would get lucky at the bar after the office celebration, although she was sure the idea of cheating really didn't cross her mind that morning as she was getting dressed.
"Closer. Are they still damp?"
"No. Why?"
"Your panties, are they still damp from whoever was playing in them?"
"Mark, that's not fair."
"Do I have to take them off and sniff them? I sure as hell know what your pussy smells like when you get wet. Do we need to do the sniff test?"
"It wasn't like that … that wasn't what happened."
"Maybe you ought to tell me about it. Confession is good for the soul. And then you can make a full act of contrition. You'll feel much better afterwards."
Did she want to be punished? Maybe she did. So Kate told him about the office get together and how she was at the bar.
"And then?"
And then the guy who bought her one, and she bought the second round, and then it was closing time.
"And then?"
And how this guy walked her to the parking lot and how they kissed a little, how he copped a feel, but no bare tit, that was only for Mark. And then how she jacked this guy off in the car because he was getting to be a pain in the ass and that was the only way she could think of to get rid of him.
Mark was silent for a while. He just looked at her, studied her closely. He was older, more serious, not like some of her other boyfriends.
"I though we had an agreement? That we would be honest with each other and faithful to each other?"
"Yes, but I didn't sleep with him."
"You mean you only cheated 'a little'?"
"I guess so." Kate looked down at the floor, started to feel guilty.
"You'll feel much better after I punish you."
They had talked about that before she moved in with him. She knew she wanted someone to take charge, give her direction and life meaning. She knew he believed in C.P., corporal punishment, believed that some women needed to get their bottoms warmed every so often. She thought she believed in that, also. Tonight she would have a chance to test her belief.
For the first time in their relationship, Kate was truly frightened. And her fear did not fade when Mark stood up, grasped her by the ear, and dragged her to the corner of the room.
"Stand there, Kate, with your nose against the wall, until I'm ready for you. If you move from this spot, you'll get EXTRA when I return."
Kate was rooted to the spot. She could feel the fear building in her stomach, but also the excitement. Was this what she had been looking for all these years, a man who would truly be her Master?
She heard him return but was afraid to turn and look. Then he left and came back again. There was a long silence. Kate knew he was looking at her, staring at her legs and ass. Finally, he told her to turn around.
Kate's heart skipped a beat. In the center of the room was the saw horse, the one he bought at the yard sale last week. But it looked very different now. It has been sanded smooth and stained a dark brown. The top was wider, covered with a carpet like material. There were stringers on both sides, maybe 6 inches above the ground, parallel to the top, and handles, larger dowels, really, about 6 inches long, mounted at a right angle to the front legs.
Kate knew that her ankles would be affixed to the stringer on one side. On the other, when she was bent over the horse, the handles would give her something to hold onto, to lift her upper body so that it was parallel to the ground.
On the top of the horse was a corset, one Kate had never seen before. It was of much heavier material than the sexy bustier in her closet, or the one Mark laced her into some nights before they had sex.
"Take off your clothes, everything but your stockings."
"Mark, please, I didn't do anything wrong."
"Strip, now, or I'll put handcuffs on you and undress you myself."
She saw he has a pair of cuffs, bright, shiny, cold steel. No, she doesn't want them on her wrists. Slowly she unbuttons her blouse, took it off, folds it carefully and placed it on a chair. Then the skirt, first she opened the belt, then the zipper in back, finally lowered it to the floor and she stepped out of it.
"Your panties first, and then the bra."
"Please, Mark, let me keep my panties on. Just the bra."
"I've seen your ass before, there's no reason to hide it now. And besides, you'll look very pretty with your tits covered and your pussy exposed."
"Please, Mark, don't make me do this."
He then went to explain.
"The way I know how hard to hit, and where to hit, is by how red your ass gets. If you don't want me to see your bottom, I'll just chose one a spot on your ass and beat on it until I get tired. But you'll be very very sore by the time I'm finished. And tomorrow it will really hurt. It won't be a pretty sight. This really is for your own good."
Kate thought about it for a moment, and then lowered her panties. Somehow, in only the garter belt, with the lace top stockings and bra, she felt more undressed. Was this why they sometimes took the pictures with her undressed that way?
"OK, now the bra. Show me your tits, and then I’ll lace you up and you can get over the horse, with your legs wide apart."
Kate unclasps the bra, leaned forward slightly to let her breasts swing free, tossed the bra to one side. Then she walked to the saw horse and picked up the corset. It wasn’t as long as the custom made one that Mark bought her, and she could see it had heavy boning sewed into the fabric.
