On the way home from work Jamieson Fletcher strode into Sylvia's juice bar and seated himself on a stool at the counter.
As Mayor of Little Falls, Jamieson - or Jim to his friends - worked hard at his job, which he often felt was a thankless task. He stopped at Sylvia's juice bar every day on the way in to work to collect a shot of wheatgrass juice, which his wife insisted he take for his health. Personally, he felt he would do better getting down on his hands and knees and mowing his front lawn with his teeth, but hey, if the old lady said it was good, who was he to argue?
Sylvia spotted Jim from the back of the bar. She never allowed any of the younger girls to serve him - he was a VIP and she always saw to it that she served him personally. It was unusual for him to stop by at that time of day. She wondered if the Mayor had something on his mind.
"What can I get you today, Mayor?" Sylvia asked Jim.
"Ah, Sylvia," Jim replied. "I'm not sure there's anything you can help me with today. Just wanted to stop by and see a friendly face," he said. And arse, he thought!
At forty-five years old, Sylvia was dynamite in cotton-lycra gym shorts. Her juice bar was right next door the to local gym, and thanks to her personal trainer son, Alexander, she had made more than an impressive effort at fighting off the effects of age. As she leaned across the bar, Jim allowed his eyes to linger on the round tops of her breasts, which seemed impossibly more pert than they should have been. He imagined gripping those tits in his hands, squeezing them, slapping them, pinching the nipples until they turned purple.
"You're always welcome here Mayor," Sylvia said soothingly. "In fact, I've got a couple of things I wanted to go over with you. I wonder if you wouldn't mind coming upstairs?"
Jim's eyebrows rose. Upstairs? He was unaware there was anything upstairs of Sylvia's juice bar.
"What seems to be the problem?" Jim asked, curiosity starting to creep in around the edge of his voice.
"I'll show you," Sylvia said. She walked to the end of the bar then stepped out into the walkway. "Up here," she said, pushing a door open to reveal a steep staircase leading up and away from the shop.
Jim rose from his seat. He adjusted his belt and felt his cock twitch. He'd known Sylvia for years. If she needed help, he thought, he would certainly give it. He walked over to where she stood and allowed her to lead the way forward. Sylvia was dressed in a little denim mini skirt coupled with a skimpy white singlet and four-inch high wedge heeled slip-ons. As she sashayed up the stairs, he let his eyes drift up the long smooth line of her legs and was astounded to note he could see the round globes of her arse-cheeks just barely covered by her skirt. Surely she wore underwear? A g-string, he decided.
At the top of the stairs Sylvia pushed a black door open and indicated that the Mayor should follow her inside. Jim was two steps behind her - when he reached the open door, he was stunned to see the interior of the studio upstairs. It was not a dusty, dowdy office as he'd expected. Instead he was greeted by a room with walls painted entirely in black. A red carpet trailed from the door over to a black leather sofa which Sylvia stood beside, her left hand on her hip, her right leg slightly bent, her head tilted forward, her lips moist and parted.
"Come in," Sylvia said. Jim swallowed the saliva that had collected in his watering mouth. He stepped over the threshold and allowed the door to swing shut behind him.
"Sylvia." Jim said, entirely lost for words.
"I'll tell you about my problem, Mayor Fletcher," Sylvia said, stepping backwards and seating herself on the arm of the leather sofa.
"What is it?" Jim said breathlessly, his heart beginning to race, his cock beginning to harden.
Sylvia twisted her body on the sofa arm, pivoting on her hip then turning onto her stomach to lean over the arm, her arse thrust in the air, her buttocks wantonly spread, the blonde hair between her legs just visible, confirming to Jim that she was, in fact, not wearing any underwear at all.
"I've been bad," Sylvia said from where she bent forward. She reached around with her right hand, clasped the hem of her short skirt and hitched it up to her waist, revealing a brilliantly coloured Chinese dragon tattoo positioned high on the right cheek. "I wonder if you'd like to punish me?" She turned her head to look at Jim, and he returned her gaze, incredulous that she was offering herself to him like this.
"Sylvia. I," Jim spluttered.
"Please, Mayor," Sylvia begged. "I need it!" Jim looked at Sylvia's arse-cheeks, so smooth, so round, just waiting for his hand to make a mark. There was nothing for it. Jim walked straight over to the sofa, took off his suit jacket, tossed it on the floor and unbuttoned the cuff of his white cotton shirt.
"Tell me how bad you've been Sylvia," he said matter of factly.
"Very bad," Sylvia replied. "I've fucked two of the gym instructors already this afternoon, and I sucked another one's cock this morning," she said.
Jim rolled up his sleeve and raised his hand.
"How could you?" he said coldly and brought his hand down, smack, against the soft underside of Sylvia's right butt-cheek. The sound echoed around the dungeon studio. Sylvia allowed a little moan escape from between her lips, but Jim did not pause to listen. He quickly delivered a blow to her left butt-cheek, then began alternating slaps in quick succession to Sylvia's arse, and watched with satisfaction as the white skin began to turn pink under his administrations.
All these years Jim had been coming to Sylvia's juice bar, ordering his daily juice, chatting to her about nothing in particular, never suspecting that she was hiding a fully fledged dungeon in the room above. He had always considered she was entirely fuckable, and had never bothered to hide the fact that his eyes freely feasted on her tits whenever she wore a revealing top - which was virtually every day of her life. He had never thought to proposition her - okay so he was married, but that was a given. He'd had little strumpets throwing themselves at him ever since the day he was elected to the Mayoral office. And he'd taken great pleasure in fucking every single one of them with little or no care about his reputation. He knew they'd keep their mouths shut - it went without saying. But Sylvia? He'd never in his wildest dreams thought he would get a chance to get his mitts on her tidy little arse. Spanking her like this, he knew he would go further, but he wanted to finish the job at hand first.
When Sylvia's moans turned to gasps, Jim paused and looked around the room.
"Have you had enough, slut?" Jim quipped.
"No, Mayor," Sylvia replied. "I'm a dirty slut and I should be punished for it!" she whimpered.
Jim spied a black double flex paddle hanging on the wall over near the window. He strode over to it, grabbed it from its hook and walked back to where Sylvia still lay prone over the side of the sofa arm. Her buttocks were entirely burnished now. They glowed red, but he knew she could take more. Jim angled the paddle just so and began to strike lightly on Sylvia's already tortured flesh. He watched as each blow impacted against the roundness, lifting it slightly, then falling away again when he drew back the paddle for another strike.
Sylvia had been leaning on her elbows over the sofa arm, but now it seemed she'd lost all control of her body and was lying limp, emitting little whimpering sounds with her eyes squeezed shut.
"Have you had enough?" Jim demanded.