 |
|||
|
|
The Arcade Series
Boonga Boonga
By: Michael Alexander
Any manager will tell you that profit and loss are two of the main aspects of running a business, even a video arcade. Profit is what you earn after calculating all of your expenses. Loss is what services or product has left your establishment in the company of someone whose ethical understanding of the finer points of ownership is in question. Over the years I’ve had lots of experience with the five fingered lift, the conceal and carry, and even the plain old snatch and run. But nothing disappoints me more than employee theft.
And employee theft was what I was attempting to catch the afternoon I hid the small video camera. For the last several weeks I had noticed that a few of the more expensive prizes in our redemption counter had mysteriously vanished, despite the patent fact that not enough redemption tickets had been turned in to justify the purchases. I could tell my “loss” was soon going to start eating into my “profit”. Unfortunately, the days the expensive items like the Playstation 2, the iPod, and the small portable television disappeared, the same employee was working, and my suspicion was raised.
Cops will tell you that there are dumb thieves and lawyers. I was pretty sure I hadn’t hired any attorneys to help me run my arcade, so I figured that I had a dumb thief on my hand. Maybelyn, a beautiful and petite Latino girl, who was constantly being reminded to remove her nose piercing before clocking in, was my prime suspect. She had medium length hair that she customarily wore pulled back into a tight ponytail, and seemed to fit in the khaki pants of our uniform as if they were molded to her petite body. She certainly wasn’t busty, but her curves seemed to match the shape perfectly and her dusky gold colored skin seemed to be begging for a coating of baby oil. I always tried to keep from thinking about my employees in a sexual manner, but with May, it was admittedly difficult.
My trap was set. A new shipment of prizes had arrived, and knowing the culprit’s taste in personal electronics, I had liberally juiced the redemption counter with all sorts of attractive treats. I had hidden the camera in the marquee of a game directly across from the redemption counter, slipping in a six hour long tape, and actually plugging the camera into a wall socket so I wouldn’t even need to worry about the battery. And catch her I did. I sped through the video the next morning, watching May move in fast forward, greeting guests, doling out prizes, and helping herself to the new Nano iPod. She looked so cute, those dark liquid brown eyes and infectious smile.
The next day I stocked the counter again, a knowing smile on my face and I greeted her in the customary fashion. She had no idea that the cards were stacked against her as she clocked in. I made my adieu and left her alone, knowing full well that when I made a surprise return right after closing, there would be a good possibility that something else would be missing. Just to make sure, I left the camcorder videotaping again.
That evening, dressed more comfortably in shorts and a tee shirt, I returned to the arcade right at closing, loitering in the parking lot until the center began to lock up. Funplace, a combination bowling alley, skating rink, theater, and arcade was a monstrosity that took a number of people to run. I knew that May would be ready to leave in about thirty minutes, probably with some of my merchandise. I slipped in and moved into the arcade. Sure enough, another piece of electronic fun was missing from the counter.
“Jeff? What are you doing here?” May asked, clearly surprised as she came out of the office holding the vacuum cleaner. I’ll give her credit, for a thief, she was a cool customer.
“Well, I need to talk to you May. Why don’t we step into the office?” I replied. I took the lead and moved through the door into the tiny room I called an office. One side was a tool bench while a small desk in a corner constituted my “personal” space. On top of the four-drawer filing cabinet stood a small combination television VCR that we used to run training tapes.
May came in, still calm and smiling, and sat down in the small chair I kept next to the desk. I bit my lip and extracted the videotape I had taken the previous evening and slipped it into the VCR and turned on the television. I had it properly cued and Maybelyn watched wide eyed as she saw herself slipping the iPod into her purse.
I said nothing, merely sitting there with my arms crossed. The tape ended and May turned to look at me, her face a cold mask. Her eyes gave her away though. Those dark brown liquid eyes were tearing up and I could see she was barely holding on to her control.
“Do you have an explanation?” I asked, arms still crossed, playing the disappointed boss to perfection.
May licked her lips, her head suddenly looking down as she scuffed her feet on the floor. “I’m sorry. I was just borrowing it.” She replied.
The classic lie; I wasn’t surprised. “And the digital camera tonight? We’re you just going to borrow that too?” Her eyes widened again. “And what about the Playstation? And the four computer games?”
From the way the color drained from her face, I knew I didn’t even need video of those thefts. Her expression was indictment enough.
“You’ve managed to ‘borrow’ without permission over fifteen hundred dollars worth of merchandise, May. That’s a state jail felony. That’s prison time.” I said.
From the frightened expression on her face I could see that the threat of spending time in jail had never crossed her mind. She slid forward on her seat and I almost thought she would go to her knees.
“Please! Jeff! I’ll return everything! I swear!” She said, the words tumbling from her lips like petals falling from cherry blossoms.
I sighed, leaning back. Time and time again I had been faced with this same choice. Do I call the police and permanently damage a kid’s record for life? Or do I accept the promises of restitution and merely ask for a resignation. I’ve made both choices before and frankly, neither worked out very well.
“Honestly May, I can’t believe you would steal in the first place. I had better expectations of you. Did you steal the stuff to sell?” I asked.
The first glimmer of tears appeared in her eyes and I steeled myself for the crying fit about to come.
“N-n-no. I have everything at home.” She replied, her voice breaking as she tried to choke back the breaking sobs. “P-p-please don’t call the p-p-police.”
If the amount had been smaller, I might have gone along with her request, but fifteen hundred dollars is a lot of money. And I’ve always felt the old adage was true: once a thief, always a thief. The frown on my face was enough to tell May that her pilfering days were over, but I said it anyway.
“I’m sorry May, but theft is a serious thing. There have to be repercussions for your actions. If I let this slide you won’t learn from it.” I said as the tears started. I could see her lip quivering and a flash of anger in her eye.
“You mean I have to be punished.” She said with a sniff, her voice accusatory.
I nodded. “Exactly. What you did was wrong, May. And there has to be a punishment for that immoral action.” I reached for the phone, fully intending to call the police.
May looked at me, clearly in the midst of a decision. As I started to dial she opened her mouth and uttered a phrase that I was clearly unprepared for.
“What if I let you punish me?” She asked, the words rushing from her.
I sat in my chair, an eyebrow cocked in Spock-like incredulity, finger poised above the number nine. “And just exactly how would I punish you?” I asked, my tone sarcastic. The obvious meaning did not even register in my surprised mind.
She licked her lips and looked up at me. “You could dock my pay.” She said.
I shrugged, shaking my head. “You will be returning the items you stole anyway. Docking your pay doesn’t seem to be much of a punishment, and frankly firing you will not represent much of a penalty either. Justice must be served.” I said. I pressed the nine button.
“Wait! Please! I could…” her voice trailed off.
“Could what?” I asked, my tone clearly impatient as I prepared to press the one.
“I could let you spank me.” She whispered.
I have never been more surprised than at that moment.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“You could spank me.” She said again, this time a little louder, yet still in a submissive quality that seemed far away.
My hand dropped away from the phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I replied.
Sensing my uncertainty, May pressed. “No. I’m serious. When I was younger and did bad things my dad spanked me. I’m asking to take that as a punishment instead of you calling the police.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry May, but that is just totally inappropriate. I can’t…”
She interrupted me. “On my bare bottom.”
I fell silent, once more dealing with the sex card played upon me. It was the consistent ace in the hole my female employees who violated the rules seemed to delight in playing. From Jacqueline to Becky, and now May, once more I was face to face with a decision that stemmed not from moral latitude, but from the natural impulses of my libido. May’s body had always been something I enjoyed looking at, despite my standing doctrine of never picking up your pussy where you pick up your paycheck, especially when you are the boss.
“And you get back all the things I’ve stolen. I swear.” She said quickly.
I looked up, knowing that I had made the wrong decision even before asking the question. “How many spanks do you think you deserve?” I asked. Even asking made me squirm with guilt.
“Ten?” She stated, her eyebrow arching. She saw my quick frown and changed her answer. “Twenty.” She said more solidly.
“Bare bottomed.” I asked trying to establish the exact criteria of her punishment.
She nodded, her cute face solemn but filled with relief. “Bare bottomed.”
I pondered her proposal when it suddenly popped into my mind, the perfect setup. I churned the details over and then nodded, my mind already running through the exact circumstances.
Two months previously, we had received a new game from our overseas distributor. Innocently entitled “Boonga Boonga”, we unpacked it to discover one of the most hilarious and crude games ever invented. Hailing from Japan was a video game of such low taste that I consistently wondered at the Japanese penchant for referring to Westerners as gaijin, a term best translated as foreign barbarian. After unpacking the game we all laughed.
It was six feet tall with a large monitor in the upper portion of the cabinet. This in itself was not so remarkable. What was clearly the issue was the attached console, in which a large, pink, naked human bottom, complete with legs, was formed of soft, malleable rubber. The object of the game was simple. Select a face from a number of repulsive characters, pick up the large wooden paddle, and smack the rounded rubber ass as hard as you could. The character’s face would make the appropriate grimace and noise and you even won tickets! There was even a thief character!
Understandably, I had placed this game in the midst of the red rated video games, rather than next to the bowlers and other children’s games. Nevertheless, it was one of the highest earning games in the location, though I was forced to endure a few critical comments from concerned parents. I had even done some research and discovered that the game I possessed was the Americanized version, which was toned down significantly for our more sensitive moral aptitudes. It didn’t take much to purchase the Japanese version upgrade kit which I had yet to install.
I looked back at my would-be thief. I nodded, deciding right then to give her the choice.
“All right, May. Here are my terms. First, you return all of the merchandise you stole from me by tomorrow. Second, tonight, you submit to your spanking, twenty smacks on your bare bottom. Third, you will be placed on probation. One mess up from you and you’re fired.”
May jumped off her seat, nodding her agreement. “Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!” She started to unbuckle her khaki pants and I held up a hand stopping her.
“Not in here. This has to be done right. Follow me.” I stood up, seeing the confused expression on her face. I snagged a skein of nylon rope that I had hanging on the tool rack and strode out into the arcade. May followed her face a mask of confusion.
The redemption area was dark and I listened for a moment as we crossed the main concourse down into the Pit, the sunken depression we kept our more violent video games. I knew, as late as it was, that all of the other employees of Funplace had gone home, so we wouldn’t be interrupted.
I led the way to Boonga Boonga, trailed silently by May. When we reached the game I stepped to the side and looked at her as I began to uncoil the rope.
“Now you can remove your pants.” I said.
May glanced at the game and realized in a flash what I intended “You’re going to paddle me?”
I nodded.
She licked her lips in hesitation and I wondered if I would be calling the cops momentarily. “This is what you agreed too. I can call the cops if you’d prefer.” I said.
That comment encouraged her to make up her mind and I watched as her fingers moved to the metal belt buckle securing her pants. Quickly she unsnapped it and began pushing the khakis downward, baring a pair of purple colored bikini style panties. She stepped on the heels of her shoes, and then deciding she looked ridiculous in just a shirt, panties, and socks, she removed the soft white cotton sheaths, giving light to her red painted toe nails.
Her legs were gorgeous and I took a deep breath, willing myself to control. “Now step up to the console and lean over.” I said.
Maybelyn moved forward, a decidedly uncertain look in her eye which only intensified as I stepped forward and grabbed her right wrist. It took only a moment to wrap the nylon cord around it and then move behind the game to the other side, pulling her up against it perfectly. Her arms were raised slightly, so that she was pulled tight against the frame. When I moved around to the front I was rewarded with the sight of a pretty teenage thief, panty clad, pressing up against the pink ass shaped console of the game at a slight angle. She tugged a bit on the rope and then settled down.
“Bare bottomed, May. Just like you promised.” I said, stepping up. I reached out to her hips and snagged the purple panties with my fingers. Her skin felt divine, like soft silk, yielding in ways that could only have been imagined before. I could feel her tremble, a delicate shuddering as I tugged downward. Her bronze like skin seemed to glow as I bared her bottom, exposing her seat to my hungry eyes. It was perfectly shaped, perfectly colored, and the perfect target for the Boonga Boonga paddle.
I lifted the paddle from the side of the game. It was a heavy wooden one, attached with a shielded cord, and I swished it through the air once, causing May to jump. Her head was turned, watching me as I gave a practice swing. Satisfied with my weapon, I positioned myself as if I were a golfer, standing next to her, pulling my arm back in order to deliver the best swing of my life.
My God, you would have thought I had cut off her leg the way she screamed. I admit, I hit her as hard as I could, which turned both of her buttocks into bright red blotches. Curious, I ran my fingers over her skin as she began to cry but other than the reddening flesh, felt no welts or raising. I lifted the paddle again and she thrashed, making it harder to aim, but I managed.
I don’t think I hit has hard on my second swing, but May’s fresh cry of agony filled the darkened arcade. She was sobbing now, long drawn out wails as I ran my hand over her bottom, trying to help the sting disappear. I could feel the heat though. As I raised my paddle a third time she moved to the side in an attempt to get away.
I lowered the paddle. “Get back in position or I’ll call the cops.”
May’s tear streaked face glanced at me and I could tell she was considering her options. Finally she moved back to the console, once more pressing her groin up to the rubber bottom. While she had moved away I had seen the trimmed triangle of her bush, and a bit of the golden and pink petals of her sex.
I softened the next shot deliberately. She still reacted, arching her back and pulling hard on the rope. Her foot stamped on the ground in a desperate and ineffective attempt to rid herself of the pain. I rubbed the paddle over her bottom in circular motions as she calmed. As soon as I could tell she had recovered, I pulled the paddle back and then slammed it once more into her butt.
If the tortures of the Inquest inspired such cries, I had no doubt that ear protectors would have been worn during the medieval ages. May screamed, begging me to stop, blubbering through her tears. I could see that her bottom was cherry red, but my anger and disappointment kept me from feeling sorry for her. She wanted punishment? I was going to give it to her. I swung again, letting the paddle catch the underside of her buttocks, lifting her up in a powerful slice that left her gasping for air. She slumped against the game, practically hanging from the rope.
“P-p-please...” she gasped, her voice a bare whisper. “I c-c-can’t take any m-m-more.”
“Geeze, May. You’ve only had five. You agreed to twenty.” I said. May turned her hand and looked at me, her dark brown eyes filled with water, her tear splashed cheeks pink and swollen.
“P-p-please? Anything?” She asked, sniffling.
There are other men who would have taken advantage of May to indulge in a little personal satisfaction. I admit I was tempted. She was in a state that she would have accepted anything. But I have always been steadfast in my moral ground and would never influence a girl to engage in sexual intercourse with me under such circumstances. I sighed, thinking about my options. I moved to the back of the game, opening the rear access door and removed the still boxed up Boonga Boonga upgrade kit.
I dropped it on the bar table which sat nearby as Maybelyn watched with tearful curiosity. Carefully, I opened the cardboard container and extracted the white object which, in the Japanese version, was the original interface device. There was also a replacement console in the box, a new bottom, this time with an additional feature not present in the American version. The Japanese model had a hole, right in the center of the bottom, simulating in perfect positioning the anal entrance. I left the console in the box and removed the interface device. Instead of a paddle, a thick, hard plastic hand with a single finger pointing directly out left nothing to the imagination. In the Japanese version, the object of the game was to ram the finger as hard and as deeply as possible into the anus of your character.
May’s eyes widened. “What’s that?” She asked, her voice a frightened murmur.
I held it up and brought it over. “It’s your other option.” I said. I moved it close so she could see the width of the protruding finger. “Either you take your spanking, or I can use this on you.”
You could see her mind churning. I could tell she was weighing the alternatives and finally she nodded.
With a grin I moved behind her, lowering the finger shaped penetrator. I let it touch the base of her spine and then moved it downward toward her bottom.
But to my surprise, Maybelyn arched her back and lifted her hips, changing the trajectory of the game phallus toward an opening different than the one I had intended. My eyes widened in surprise as she pushed back against me and the first inch of the finger slipped deeply into her sex, spreading her petals apart. She groaned and I couldn’t help myself but to push deeply, slowly letting the long five inch finger plough through her pussy. She rocked her hips and I followed her movements, letting her fuck herself on my simulated hand. I held still as her golden rump pivoted back and forth, impaling itself on the white plastic.
To my surprise, she came. A quick and violent gasp and shudder that made my cock hard. I gave the finger a quick shove and she let out another moan. Finally, she slumped against the game in orgasmic bliss.
She lifted her head and turned to look at me over her shoulder. “You can take it out now. That was a lot more than fifteen.” She said.
I looked at her quizzically. “What are you talking about?” I asked, clearly confused.
She gave her hips a little twist and I felt the plastic hand move against my clutching fingers.
“That was a lot more than fifteen thrusts.” She replied.
It suddenly dawned on me what she was talking about. I chuckled softly and the shook my head. “Oh no, May. That’s not how this works.” I pulled the finger out of her pussy, a thick wet sucking sound filling my ears. I held it up, wet and shiny. “This goes in your ass.”
I repositioned the finger as her eyes widened and she began a vociferous protest. Slowly, I pushed while my other arm wrapped around her waist. She tightened up, thrashing against me and I stopped.
“So you’re asking to receive the spanking instead?” I asked. Maybelyn burst into a fresh set of tears, sobbing, begging me to let her go. I held steadfast, knowing that the only way she would be released from the Boonga Boonga game was to let me play it, with her as the pink console. I didn’t care whether we played the Japanese or the American versions.
“Choose right now, May. The paddle or the finger?” I demanded, once more pushing the tip of the finger against the small brown button of her bottom. She stiffened.
“Will it hurt less?” She asked, her voice the pleading soft sound of suffering humiliation.
It was a good question. I had no idea. Never having anything stuck up my ass before, I certainly did not have a common frame of reference in which to formulate an answer.
“I’m not sure, though there are a lot of sex toys for a girl’s bottom, so it can’t be that bad.” I replied. I pushed slightly again, feeling her open up just a bit. I decided to press on.
“So do you want the paddle or up the ass?” I asked again.
May shivered and then delivered her answer by arching her hips and bending over as far as the game would let her. “In the ass.”
So I pushed. Not hard. The first penetration was going to be difficult, despite the copious amounts of cunt juice which liberally lubricated my prosthetic finger. I twisted it as it went in, back and forth as she groaned. Once I was past the tight ring of muscles, I moved a bit quicker and drove the tip in deep until the folded fingers of the rest of the hand were snuggly pressed against the steamy petals of her sex.
I could see she was uncomfortable, but there was also an expression of sexual tension in her face. The previous orgasm had excited her, and I could tell that it hadn’t been enough. I let out an explosive breath and remembered that this was intended to be a punishment. I pulled the finger almost completely out, until only an inch remained embedded in her body, and then I rammed it back in hard.
It counted as the seventh stroke and it certainly was classified as punishment, and not reward. May screamed, arching away in a desperate attempt to flee, only to be stopped by the game and her bound wrists. I held her hips with one hand, the plastic finger still buried in her ass as she cried. As soon as I sensed her settling down, I did it again.
You might consider me to be cruel, but I can assure you that what I was doing, I was doing for her sake. Like corporal punishment on a child, there needs to be a negative reinforcer associated with bad behavior. If the last physical action inflicted upon her body had been the pleasurable sensation of orgasm, she would have a positive reinforcer, encouraging the bad behavior. By ramming the five inch long, inch thick white plastic rod as hard as I could into her bottom, I was providing years of negative reinforcement.
We still had twelve strokes to go and I could tell that her bottom was in agony. I didn’t really care. Whether it was inflicted from a paddle or a phallus, it meant the same thing. I pulled the finger outward, only to have her jerk and force it out completely. She pulled away and glared at me over her arm, eyes brimming with spilled tears and anger.
I lifted the paddle again. “Paddle or the finger.” I asked. She shook her head, her chest heaving with the sobs. “Look, its one or the other, or a call to the police.” I reminded her. I admit, it was a cowardly dishonest statement. After sodomizing her, I could no more have called the police than she could have. But ignorance of the law is no excuse and so I figured that if the government’s policy worked that way, mine could as well. She trembled, shaking, hanging from her wrists as I continued to hold her choices out for her.
“Wouldn’t you r-r-rather fuck me?” She suddenly asked.
I nodded. “I would love to fuck you silly, May. But the problem is that having sex with you would create a lot of problems for me, not to mention that it wouldn’t exactly be a punishment now would it?”
May shook her head, desperate. “Yes it would!” She stammered.
My eyes narrowed and I glared at her. “Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment.” I snarled.
“No! Wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” She stammered.
I didn’t care, I lifted the paddle and quickly swung it, catching her across both cheeks with another swat from hell.
I began at that point to understand why sadists gagged their victims. Maybelyn’s voice was becoming a high pitched squeal and I leaned up against the Boonga Boonga game while she slowly calmed back down.
“Fuck you! I hate you!” She yelled.
“You still have eleven strokes left.” I replied calmly. Her eyes were rimmed with red and I could see the lines of the rope etched in pink on her wrists. Suddenly I felt sorry for her. I sighed. “Tell you what, we can make a deal. You allow me to remove your shirt and bra, and we drop the strokes from twenty to fifteen. That will bring you from eleven to six. Over half way done.” I said.
May glanced up at me. “Just six?” She asked, her voice a whisper. I nodded.
“Just six.”
It took her a moment to decide and then she nodded, her head bobbing up and down. With a slight smile I moved forward and quickly began to unbutton the white blouse that encased her breasts. I could detect the scent of her perfume, the fruit like essence of her hair, and of course the hot musky scent of her sex. I lifted the blouse upward until it entwined around her still bound forearms. It took only a moment to unsnap her bra and suddenly the two most luscious globes of honey colored perfection were swinging free, nipples hardened in humiliated stimulation. It was titillating.
I had to seriously repress the urge to fondle her. Her breasts were the perfect size too, just big enough to completely fill my hand. I wondered for just a moment on whether I should take her up on the offer to have sex, but my steadfast rule popped to the forefront of my mind. She could always claim rape, and that, would be hard to fight against.
So instead, I picked up both the paddle and the finger and once more held them out. She stared at them for a moment and then inclined her head. I was surprised at her choice, since I personally would have chosen the paddle, but we each march to the beat of a different spanker. I moved behind her once more, one arm around her waist while I positioned the still moist synthetic finger at the small brown opening between her cheeks. Once more I pushed, feeling her strain to relax, until the tip popped in. I pushed hard, sending the phallus deep into her quickly, yet not with the same force I used earlier. She gasped and stiffened and I pulled it out most of the way and pumped again.
She squirmed, but I could tell it was merely her body’s involuntary reaction to get away from the undesired penetration. However it gave me the opportunity I hoped for, and to get a better grip on my Latino darling my left hand rose to firmly grasp her right breast. I pushed the finger home again, holding her tightly, my thumb and forefinger pinching ever so softly the tender nub of her nipple.
Three more thrusts. I was keeping careful count. I held her as I thrust again, the white column slipping into the stretched opening between her buttocks. She jerked and whimpered, her body almost totally limp as I fucked her. My hard cock was pressed against her through the cotton of my slacks and I felt the beat of my blood as I suddenly wished it was my own flesh pumping into this little vixen. I shook my head and pulled, repositioning the finger for another forward injection. With only two left, I wanted this one to hurt.
I stuffed it deep, the bent plastic fingers of the rest of the hand mashed against her sex and I held it in place, grinding it. May went crazy, bucking against me, crying out as I speared her. For half a minute I held it, feeling her body shake, holding and squeezing her breast, pinching her nipple, knowing the pain was radiating through her like lightning. Then I pulled out completely, the finger leaving her body with a squelching closure.
She fell against the game, leaning over the pink control panel. Her body quivered as she turned to look at me.
“Is it over?” She asked, her voice betraying the hurt she was feeling.
I shook my head. “One left. I thought you deserved the right to choose the paddle or the finger again.
She burst into a fresh set of tears. “Why didn’t you just finish it? Why are you torturing me?” I let her cry.
“This is a punishment. One that you agreed too. Do you think jail would have been any nicer? Or how about spending the rest of your life writing ‘arrested and convicted of felony theft’ on every job application you filled out?” I replied in a scoffing tone.
The weeping continued and I stood there waiting. Finally I made as if to pick up the paddle and she shook her head, once more indicating she wanted an ass fucking. I couldn’t help smiling. Spanking a fresh beautiful bottom belonging to a drop dead gorgeous cutie was certainly something no man would pass up, but given the opportunity to ram something up that same butt no man would settle for just a spanking! May braced herself against the game and I could see she was concentrating on relaxing her bottom, opening herself. Her anus was swollen and huge and I had no doubt that my plastic finger fucker would fit, even if I needed to apply a little force to get it in there. What had previously been a tight squeeze was now a gaping hole.
I moved fast, from several inches away, with no warning. Maybelyn’s scream was practically music to my ears, despite its decibel level being several degrees above a rock concert. The finger sank home perfectly, stretching her, probing her, impaling her perfect rounded ass. I held it place as she sobbed, pulling hard on the ropes binding her wrists, and I held her tightly.
She relaxed as the pain faded, despite the probe still being embedded deeply in her bottom, and I shifted my grip, holding the white plastic hand into her bottom with my thigh. My right arm went around her to cup her left breast as I gently thumbed her nipple and my left hand twisted downward between her legs to softly stroke the still damp and protruding nodule of flesh at the top of her slit. She moaned as my fingers danced across her and I felt a sudden surge of wetness coating the fingers of my left hand. I leaned against her and put my mouth to her ear as I stroked her clit.
“Are you sorry for stealing?” I asked.
Maybelyn moaned, nodding, her head rolling lightly as I pleasured her.
“Do you think you were punished enough for what you did?” My finger slipped into her sex, probing. I could feel the shape of the plastic finger through the wall of her pussy. She whimpered slightly and nodded, her breath coming in sharp little gasps that betrayed her excitement.
I pinched her nipple as my thumb pressed against her clit, and I added a second finger to her depths. She spread her legs and I moved against her, causing the plastic probe in her bottom to shift slightly. There was an erotic tension filling her and I heard her murmur.
“What?” I asked, not understanding her muttered comment.
Her eyes were closed and she pushed backward against me. “I’ll take the last five strokes if you keep your left hand inside me.” She said softly, her body pliant.
I swallowed hard. “Do you want the paddle or the plastic finger?”
She moaned again and I knew the answer. I swiveled my body around until my right hand once more grasped the handle of the prosthetic hand. Tenderly, I drew it outward, leaving only an inch left. As I pushed it back in, just as slowly, my left hand pumped inside her, eliciting a longing cry from the bound and punished thief. I felt her clenching around my fingers as I moved the anal phallus again, drawing it outward and then plunging it in. She gasped and I could tell she was close to orgasm. She moved against me and I knew that it was the combination of the plastic finger in her bottom and the real ones in her sex that was causing the onslaught of sensation. I twirled my knuckles, pressing against her clit as I delivered the fourth full length thrust into her ass. My own breathing was hard as I fought the overwhelming urges of lust thrumming through my veins. The final push of both my fingers and the plastic phallus sent Maybelyn into orgasmic paradise, spiraling up through the clouds of pleasure. My hand felt the spurting juices of her explosion and she tightened up so hard around the plastic finger that no amount of pulling would have removed it from her bottom.
Then she collapsed against the game, spent and tired. I gently removed the plastic prosthetic hand, dropping it on the carpet. The scent of her ordeal filled my nostrils and I extracted my hand from her still dripping cunt. My fingers were coated in her sexual wetness and I turned away from her, moving across the arcade and up the steps to cross the main concourse to retrieve a roll of paper towels from the redemption counter. I cleaned myself off as I returned to my bound thief, my penitent thief. With gentle and constant caresses, I cleaned her body, patting her thighs dry, running my fingers over her as she seemed to doze against the game. Finally it was time to release her, my fingers finding the intricate knots that held her and freeing them.
May looked at me as she stood up straight, her eyes seemingly distant. I paused, wondering what she would say. But it was me who made the first comment, to break the silence.
“So, did you learn from your experience?” I asked, my voice distant and cold, despite my desire to sweep her up into my arms.
Maybelyn looked at me, eyes still red from her tears, yet dry now that her ordeal was over. She nodded, still silent, perhaps not trusting herself to speak. She pulled her shirt down over her breasts and turned around, reaching for her panties. She gathered her clothing and immediately began to dress, ignoring my presence. Somewhat irritated I moved around until I faced her once again and I leaned down slightly. To my astonishment, there was a smile on her face! I couldn’t believe it and I bent down further, a look of stunned dubiety on my visage.
“May?” I asked as she stood up tall, pulling her khaki pants up her body to snap securely around her waist. She looked at me expectantly.
I gave a grunt and put my hands on my waist. “Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Are you ever going to steal again?” I demanded.
She gave her dark hair a soft toss. “I can almost guarantee it, Jeff. Especially if the punishment will be anything like what I just received.” Her voice was strong, almost cheerful. She stepped up close to me and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek that seemed to burn.
“But tomorrow night, after I steal something, it better be your cock in my ass, and not that stupid game.” The words were whispered in my ear and then she pulled away.
“Night, Jeff. I’ll bring everything in tomorrow.” May turned and walked out of the Pit, gingerly climbing the small stair case to the main concourse and heading toward the exit.
For some time I stood there, lost in thought, remembering the experience. Carefully, I cleaned the plastic hand and then spent an hour replacing the whole Americanized console with the Japanese version. The pink bottom with the obvious hole in the center reminded me exactly of what had happened, and does to this very day.
No doubt you’re wondering if I ever caught Maybelyn stealing. You would think that enduring such a bitter painful punishment would discourage even the most tempted thief from ever pilfering again. I inflicted such humiliation and punishment upon her that I’m almost ashamed of myself.
But what I said before, about the old adage? It’s true. Once a thief, always a thief.
The End.
Author’s Note: No doubt many of you are wondering about the atrocity of a video game “Boonga Boonga”. To my dismay and sense of humor, such a game really does exist and thus provided me the perfect inspiration for the third story in the Arcade Series. A friend of mine who runs video arcades mentioned the game to me and even provided a link to a website that had pictures! The different versions of the game described here are accurate as well, though I took some liberties with the color scheme. If you doubt me, just “google” boonga boonga and be prepared…
If you enjoyed “Boonga Boonga” please read the other two stories in the series: “The Arcade Series: Tower of Terror” and “The Arcade Series: DDR”
Yours Faithfully,
Michael Alexander
© Michael Alexander 2007 All Rights Reserved
|
|
|