You kneel in front of me obediently, head bowed to the ground, bottom bulging behind the flimsy covering of your short skirt and panties. I make you reach back and lift the hem of your skirt up over your back and hold it there while I reach down and smooth your black panties, fondling the flesh underneath then running my fingers onto your bare skin at the sides. The feeling is so luscious as your body quivers gently with tension and in anticipation of what is to come and I cannot resist trailing my fingertips down your thighs, scoring the skin lightly with my nails.
I suddenly start to spank you with hard, crisp blows that crack across your panties and make you shift and squirm and I feel your bottom ripple and flinch with every blow of my palm. I warm you thoroughly before I tell you to stand and then make you remove your skirt and top. Only your black lace bra and knickers protect your body now and I can see the knowledge in your soft blue eyes that are slightly misted with tears as I reach out and slide my finger inside the cup of your brassiere. Your cool skin shrinks away from me a little and then I press harder and stroke down and touch the rubbery swelling of your nipple.
I tell you to remove it and you reach behind you and unclasp it and then it falls away and reveals the beauty of your breasts to my eager eyes. The dusky pinkness of the nipples stand out sharply from the creamy whiteness and I lean forward and kiss each one in turn, sucking it into my mouth then releasing it before I squeeze with my lips hard and feel you shiver with the pressure. Your panties are next and I make you slide them down to show off your cute curling hair that protects your delicate quim and you stand there, embarrassed and yet proud, ready for me to do my worst.
The dining room chair awaits; such an ordinary piece of furniture and yet as your body bends over it and your head slides into the narrow gap between seat and back, I marvel at its usefulness. I bind your wrists to the back legs then splay your thighs out and tie them tightly to the front legs, rendering you helpless before I pick up the old worn dog collar. The black leather is fraying and tattered but it makes a satisfying crack as I flick it across your bare bottom cheeks and you squeal at the sharp sting that results. Many minutes pass as I torment your globes until the redness suffuses the skin, a blossoming rose etched on your flesh as your cries echo around the room, disturbing the dust motes.