I see you standing before me. Your head bowed, hands behind your back, clasped together. You followed my instructions exactly. I knew you would, not that you had much of a choice. You learned long ago not to disobey me. You have on the exact boots I told you to wear. Black, mid-calf leather boots with a high heel that comes down to a sharp point. These boots change your posture, forcing your perfectly formed arse to become more prominent, your lower back curved in slightly, accenting your behind. You have on the black stockings I told you to wear, the ones that match the lacy, black French knickers that you wear so well.
I know you're conscious of your small tits, which is why I wanted you topless. I want you to feel uncomfortable and on edge. Your B-cup tits are perfect in every way. They respond to my slightest touch and react exactly how I want to the pleasure and pain I want you to feel. The first time you stood before me topless, you tried to cover your breasts with your arms and were punished for it. Not because of covering up, but because I hadn't told you to. For that I tied your arms above your head and had you stand in the window so everyone could see your breasts.
I could just stand and stare at your perfect form for hours. The curve of your hips, your tiny waist, your perfect breasts, your elegant neck, every part of you is incredibly beautiful. I step toward you and see your every muscle tense up. Good. I want you to be tense and ill at ease. I reach out with my walking cane, the tip of it settling under your chin. I raise your head using my cane so that I can see your face. Your piercing, pale blue eyes are remarkable. Your cheekbones sit high, but not too proud, your face framed by your golden hair, which you have tied back as I instructed.
Our eyes meet before you quickly look down at your boots again. You fear me, and you enjoy that fear. I walk to you so we are inches apart and still you don't look up. I reach into my pocket and bring out a steel collar with a padlock attached.
"It's time for you to be reminded." I say, in hushed tones. Not that there is anyone else around that could hear of course. This room was the wine cellar of this building, now it is something a little different. The brickwork remains, the exposed beams, the concrete floor, but now there are metal hooks attached to the walls, floor and ceiling along with some scaffolding sections made up into odd shapes tucked away in the corner.
I snap the collar shut around your neck and close the padlock on the latch. The collar has two hooks on it, one at the front, the other at the back. I grab the front hook and start to pull you along as I walk to a corner of the room. Once I have you where I want, I produce a 4inch long chain with clips on either end from my jacket pocket. I attach one end to the front hook on your collar, then roughly pull you down to the ground by it and attach the other end to a steel ring set into the floor.
Your face is pressed up against the cold concrete ground whilst your on your knees, your position making your arse stick up into the air. You can't move your head or neck because of the short chain, I can see you straining to get comfortable, which we both know won't happen. I see you looking at my feet, eyeing my boots and wondering what will happen next.
I walk around behind you to admire your arse as it's presented to me. You can no longer see me because of your head being restrained the way it is, but you can hear me. I tap my cane on the floor once every few seconds. I can see you flinch with every sound. I run the tip of the cane up the back of your thighs causing you whole body to go rigid for an instant. I run the cane across your arse cheeks , left to right. Without warning I raise the cane and strike you across the back of your thighs.
The scream that comes from you is primal in every way. It is exactly what I want and everything you crave. You need punishment like this. Your body needs it and your mind wants it. This is why you are here, to be owned and punished by me, because you have to have it.
I strike you across the backs of your legs again, multiple times until your screams merge into each other. Just one continuous sound of agony and ecstasy. I can see the red welts on your thighs raising up, standing out against your pale skin. I bring one final hit across your arse cheeks, making your back arch up. Your breathing is quick, your heart racing. I run the cane over the fabric of your panties before I tell you to remove them.