I walked cautiously down the stairs, again dressed in my sheer tube mini dress and five-inch heels, fresh from a cold shower. My boobs bounced a little with every step, the long pointy tits stretching against the material of the dress. I rubbed a hand over my ass, still sore from my spanking, the scratchy material irritating the red marks on my ass.
"Touching yourself without my permission?" Simon asked sarcastically, watching my descent from the shadow of Dad's office. My father brought a lot of work home, and his office was off limits at all times to everyone.
"You shouldn't be in there," I said softly, looking down.
"And why not?" he drawled.
"No one's allowed in."
"I see. There's some Chinese takeout in the kitchen. You have ten minutes to eat and be back here without that dress on. Go."
I walked as fast as I could, aware of his eyes watching the sway of my round ass. The tip of the marker pen I had shoved into my asshole protruded slightly, clearly visible. I hurriedly gulped down noodles and some dumplings, before slipping out of my dress, leaving it strewn on the kitchen floor. A fresh wave of shame came over me, as I stood naked in my own kitchen, already bizarrely turned on as I wondered what Simon would make me do this time.
I snapped to attention, and half ran to Dad's office, wondering how long I had taken.
"Stand in the middle of the room," came the sharp order. "Hands behind your head, chest out, legs spread as far apart as you can."
I obeyed, displaying myself wantonly for him. The cool air of the air conditioning tightened my tits, turning the soft nipples into hard buds.
"I said ten minutes, you took eighteen. Do you know what that means?"
My heart sank.
"Another spanking, sir?"
"You need the discipline. But this time I'm going to be generous. Since your ass already had a good beating, would you prefer me to spank your tits or your pussy?"
I blushed at the thought of him touching either part of my body.
"The former."
"Which is? Say it, and don't forget your manners or that's more spankings for you."
"Please spank my tits, sir."
He walked around me slowly, eying the firm pale globes jutting out proudly from my chest. He put a on my left tit and pressed it deep into my breast, making me rise on my toes to try and soften the pain.
"You like that huh? Slut."
A hand swiftly whacked the underside of my left breast, making it bounce. I winced in pain. I could still see the faint markings of the "Simon's Slut" he had forced me to write across my boobs; my bath had washed off most of the marker's writing.
"I don't think we'll spank your boobs," he said, spanking my right breast and watching it bounce.
"I think we'll cane them. Would you like that? Ask me to cane your boobs and tits, slut."
I had never been caned in my life, and the mere thought terrified me.
"Another ten strokes for not obeying. When are you going to learn? Ask me to cane you, NOW."
"Pl- please cane my boobs and tits, sir," I stammered in fright.
He disappeared for a minute behind me, and I held my position, not daring to move a muscle. Swish! A sharp stinging on my left ass cheek made me cry out.
"Just a teaser," he grinned. "Now, I want you to hold both your tits with your hands and pull them as far out as you can. Stretch your boobs out nicely for me."
I grasped both nipples with my forefinger and thumb, and pulled them out rather painfully.
"Shake them like you did in front of the camera."
Blushing hotly, I shook my tits up and down, making my boobs jiggle.
"Very good. Now stand with your legs closed and stick your chest out further."
I obeyed.
"You were eight minutes late, so that's 16 strokes on each boob. And you hesitated to obey an order, which cost you ten strokes per boob. I am going to cane you thirteen times on each boob: six underneath, six on top, and a free stroke, which means I simply swing the cane and see where it hits. Count them off and thank me for each one. If you let go off your tits without my permission, we'll start over and add an extra ten."
"Now pull your tits out harder."
He stood at my right side, swishing the cane menacingly. CRACK
I jumped, crying out loudly. "ONE! Thank you sir."
CRACK it caught the underside of my right boob again. "TWO! Thank you sir." I counted off all twelve strokes on the underneath of both boobs, before he let me massage my tender breasts gently.
"Pull your tits out again. I'm going to cane the top of your jugs now."
CRACK "THIRTEEN. Thank you sir," I said, crying openly as a red welt appeared on my left tit. CRACK "Fourteen. Thank you sir." Again and again and again until at last, at last, CRACK "Twenty four. Thank you sir."
"Very good, bitch. Now put your hands behind your head for the last two."
I resumed the position I had taken when I first entered the room. My boobs had long, thin red welts on them, obviously marking me as a slave more effectively than the faint "Simon's Slave" and "Fuck Me" signs written on my chest and pussy. Who else but a wanton slave, a submissive, would allow such grotesque abuse?
Swish CRACK! "FUCK!" I screamed, as the tip of the cane caught my right nipple.
Swish CRACK the cane caught across my entire right tit again, stunning me from its swift ferocity.
I was wailing and crying like never before, unable to bear the pain of my burning tit. It felt as though it had been ripped into two, torn from the two lashes it had received.
"Did you just curse? How dare you say 'fuck' to something I do to you. AND you didn't thank me for the last two strokes. Crawl to the kitchen, now."
Simon pulled my long hair, forcing me to get down on my knees. I crawled slowly into the kitchen, feeling the marker pen jutting out of my ass.
"Stop," he commanded, as I stopped on all fours in front of the large kitchen table.
"Get up and get into spanking position over the table."
I stood slowly, feeling dizzy. I bent over at the waist over the kitchen table, pressing my assaulted tits painfully into the table. My legs were spread wide, ass jutting out, and my hands were gripping the far corners of the table.
I felt Simon tie something around each ankle, before he pulled my right ankle further out, stretching my legs painfully. Then he did the same to the left. He must have tied my feet with the ropes he'd used earlier, and bound me to the kitchen legs, I assumed.
He then proceeded to do the same to my hands, tying them stretched out to the outer legs of the table. The entire process was done in silence. I was so nervous, sweat was dripping off me despite my recent shower.
He completed the last tie, and stood at the side, watching me spread open obscenely. My asshole and pussy were exposed to him, my ankles tied so widely open that my ass cheeks were spread.
Running his hand over my ass, he tapped the marker sharply. I couldn't even buck, I was stretched out so tightly.
He began fucking me with the marker again, before pulling it out completely.
"You have been nothing but disobedient and stubborn," said Simon. "Spankings don't seem to teach you anything, so I'm going to try and leave a more lasting impression on you."
I could hear his soft footsteps as he walked away, heard the fridge door opening, heard drawers being pulled open and shut. Then silence.
It was very uncomfortable, lying like that, unable to see what was happening. My entire body was tense, waiting, expecting, dreading. It wasn't long before he was back again, caressing my ass cheeks, rimming my hole with his finger, then sliding it in.
