Slap!
Your hand flies through the air to land squarely on my cheek.
"How dare you question my authority, whore?"
Your voice is level, not at all raised in the slightest. But the softness of your voice make you seem only more threatening. You grab me by my hair and pull me to the table, bending me over so my pussy and ass are only partially covered by my impossibly short skirt.
As you leave me there bent over the table, I find myself entirely regretting my own foolishness. You had only told me to push a stranger against a wall and rub his crotch, after which to do whatever he told me to. But of course I had to screw things up but uttering a soft "Are you sure?" instead of complying like any good slave would have. So now, instead of rewarding me as you had planned, you are forced to punish me for my transgression.
I bite on my lower lip as you return with a long cane and a flogger, and ask if I have anything to say for myself.
"No sir, I'm sorry sir." I reply. I know better than to argue with you or even to beg for leniency at this point, especially when I am clearly in the wrong and have absolutely no reasonable excuse. Better to simply accept your punishment, as hard or as painful as it may turn out to be.
"Alright then. Hold the whip in your mouth. You will receive thirty strokes of the cane, and for every time you drop the flogger, you will receive an additional five lashes to be delivered at the end. Count."
Passing me the flogger, you allow me time to place it between my teeth while you trail the cane down one leg to my heels and back up the other to flip up my skirt and begin your onslaught.
