Day of Denial

Chapter 5

Entering the door, a tall, rather severe looking woman stepped from behind the counter and asked if she could help me find something.  Quickly I manufactured the story that I wished to try on some slacks as I was looking for a pair that would coordinate well with a navy blue sports jacket.  Beckoning me to follow she directed me one side where slacks were hanging on a low rod against a wall.  While I started absently looking at a pair here and there, she left briefly and returned with a navy blue jacket for use in finding a suitable color of slacks to match.  With her able assistance, I soon had several pairs by the hangers and asked where I might try them on.  She escorted me to the back of the store and pointed to a change room.  Immediately I gulped, tempted to abort the mission for the changing rooms lacked doors and instead offered only a curtain to draw closed to provide a modicum of privacy.  Sufficient certainly for undressing and trying on a pair of slacks, but not the level of secure privacy I wished for the activity I had in mind.  But glancing quickly at my watch, I saw only three minutes time remained before I must start the next edge.  Damn it all.  This had certainly turned into a fools errand I thought for perhaps the millionth time.  But summoning my resolve, I stepped inside the changing room, more of a booth actually and drew the curtain closed.  The worst of it was the curtain stopped a full 18 inches above the floor which I didn’t at all like.  I could only hope that Miss severe would retire to another part of the store while I sought my goal.  I would almost have welcomed another customer or two to distract her but since she was on duty alone, it seemed the place did not expect much business on a Saturday morning.

I hung the slacks on a clothing rod at the back of the booth and then, noticing the mirror thought perhaps that might add an interesting twist.  I lowered my shorts to the ankles yet again, panties to the knee and went about my business with gusto, hopefully of making quick work of edge number four.  The distractions however of the short, curtained opening and the smallness of the booth proved to amplify at least in my mind the sound of the vibe buzzing in my bottom.  I stroked with vigor for several minutes without gaining any measurable ground on my objective.  I was still very aroused but it simply wasn’t translating into the kind of experience that would move me towards the edge of climax.  I increased the tempo, only be unnerved even more when occasionally my testicles would slap smartly with a smack against my inner thigh.  I tried to tell myself the amplified sounds of my labors were just in my head due to my general nervousness.

Just as I finally was making a bit of headway, my concentration was shattered by a disembodied voice from beyond the curtain, hissing, “Why, you perverted little funk!  What the hell do you think you are doing!”  And without further ado, the veil was rent in twain when the curtain was unceremoniously thrown back to reveal Miss severe scowling threateningly at me from the aperture, me caught like the proverbial deer in the headlights in a most compromising and exposed position.  So great my shock at the unfortunate turn of events, that I did not think even to let go of my cock and cover myself, but stood stupidly with it gripped tightly in my hand as though held there by super glue.

Miss severe seemed to be considering her next move, my face and neck felt on fire and I had no doubt I was veritably glowing with redness.  Extending a long thin arm, she menacingly pointed an index finger at me and said, “Don’t you dare move an inch, I’ll be right back.”  Turning abruptly, she marched away in what appeared righteous indignation.  Initially, I was frozen in place as if my legs had tuned to clay or my feet were encased in cement.  I supposed she had gone to telephone the police who would soon arrive to cuff and stuff me in a patrol car for an unhappy ride to the local lockup. I stood transfixed, cock in hand, my mind screaming at me to act but feeling so low just then I was incapable of fashioning a plan to extricate myself from my unhappy circumstances nor escape certain doom.  As I considered my impending arrest I supposed that Mistress would find a degree of humor in the fate that had befallen her trusty sub yet equally convinced that she would feel horribly inconvenienced by having to drive downtown to go my bail.  Yes, I was quite sure, jail was going to be the lesser of the two evils I would soon be facing.

Hearing strange sounds, I was instantly uprooted and shuffled quickly to the open entry of the booth to peer out to learn what had become of the woman who had snared me.  I scanned the store and then observed her at the entry door.  What!  She appeared to be locking the door!  And yes, she was turning the sign, exchanging “Come In We’re Open” for “Sorry We’re Closed, Please Call Again.” Obviously she intended to remove any avenues of escape until that moment when sirens and squalling rubber tires would announce the arrival of officers of the law to clamp me in irons and haul me away.  I could only hope they would treat me as kindly as circumstances would allow, desperately hoping they would recognize me as a nice enough fellow, a bit kinky yes, but definitely not some serial rapist with carnal intent of unceremoniously deflowering Miss severe.  Lord no!  I continued to observe.  What was the woman doing now!  She was lowering the shades at the plate glass windows in front of the store.  Had the woman gone mad!  Was my transgression so grievous that perhaps she now intended murder and wished to shield innocent passersby from viewing my violent end!  As I thought on it, I had not overheard her speaking to a 9-1-1 operator on the phone!  I kept her under active surveillance, peering from around the corner and saw her stride purposely to the shoe department where I saw her take a wicked looking long handled shoe horn from a hook on the wall.  I ducked back inside the cubicle as she started to turn as I assumed she would soon appear once again at the opening.  Moments passed.

Imagine my shock when at last she did appear but instead of the smart business attire I remembered, she now stood in the doorway clothed in a red velvet corset, trimmed in black lace, matching satin panties, black thigh high stockings that attached by garters to the corset and the high heels she had been wearing previously.  She stood there looking thoughtful, slapping the shoe horn in her open palm in a menacing fashion until finally she deigned to speak.  “I have decided,” she announced icily, “that we can handle this discretion of yours in one of two ways.  The first way involves you going to jail.  If you wish to avoid that, then I suggest you carefully consider the alternative.  A slimy little perverted worm like you needs to be punished for being such a naughty little boy.  If you willingly submit to appropriate punishment for your inexcusable behavior and willingly...hmmmm...prove you are repentant to my satisfaction, I may overlook this and allow you to get dressed and go home when we have finished here. Something about the way she enunciated the word “submit” left me with grave doubts that Miss severe was quite as virginal as her looks initially suggested.  But given a glimpse of possible freedom, I leapt at the chance and quickly agreed to her terms. A decision I would later bitterly regret.

“Very well then,” she said, in a voice sounding far less menacing and a great deal more husky.  She stepped inside the cubicle, cramped as it was and took a seat on the small bench.  “Over me knee,” she commanded.  “Apprehending now that this was not a woman to be trifled with, I quickly threw myself, shorts still at the ankles and panties at the knee over her thin, boney lap.  Out of the corner of my eyes I saw in the reflection of the mirror, the shoe horn subscribing an arc in the air, that soon began retracing its path to connect with my exposed behind, landing with a loud slap! “Yeowww!  This sister was not sparing the mustard and that first blow had landed right on or very near the spot of the by now festered wound from the second hornet sting.  Again and again, the shoe horn rose and fell.  The initial pain began to wane as my body began to warm to the kiss of the mean and expertly wielded instrument and my cock was soon throbbing happily along once again.  Soon even, I was retracing the ground surrendered minutes before and moving smartly towards the previously forfeited edge.  Each smack on my ass was now moving me step by step towards the precipice.  Yes, now I felt the wetness of the pre-cum leaking from my throbbing cock onto her thigh.  Somehow I had to convince Miss severe to stop before my semen began to gush forth!

Given the manner she had warmed to her task, I felt little confidence that she would relent if I simply and truthfully revealed that I served a harsh Mistress who would make me regret the day of my miserable birth if I should cum without her express consent.  My mind searching for an alternative, I began to pretend that I was sobbing hysterically and feigned that I was in excruciating pain.  Apparently possessing a heart less severe than her facial expression, she paused in mid-swing and then cast the shoe horn to the floor.  “Have you learned you lesson worm?” she demanded. “Oh, yes Miss!” I choked out between exaggerated affected sobs.  “Very well!” she said in a self-satisfied tone, adding, “Then you have now only to prove you have a repentant heart and you shall have your freedom.”  Pretending to struggle for emotional control,  meekly offered my consent to do whatever she required to satisfy her.  “Get up then!” she ordered.  Shakily I pushed myself off her lap into a standing position.  Pushing me roughly to the side, she dragged the bench away from the wall and then took a couple of steps backwards towards the opening of what had become my prison of sorts.  “Pull up you shorts and panties worm and then lie on your back on the bench.”  I hastened to comply, pulling up the panties and shorts and then assumed the position as she had directed. While not large, the bench was of sufficient size to support my back and bottom with my legs thrown over either side and feet resting on the floor.

Miss severe deftly slipped out of her panties and then stepped to the bench.  Straddling my face, she lowered herself towards my mouth, copious flecks of salty female wetness dripping onto my lips even before she had lowered her soaking wet pussy onto my mouth.  Leaving me no doubt about what was intended, automatically my lips parted and my tongue began lapping and flicking about her wet slit and noticeably swollen clit.  Initially she lightly merely humped her pussy against my mouth and tongue by gently rocking her hips. But soon as her arousal began to build, the rocking motion picked up in intensity and speed until she was painfully crushing my lips against my teeth with the force she was using to apply her pussy to my tongue and mouth.  Then she began to quiver and then she came so hard it put me a mind of a time I had witnessed a person having a seizure! The rocking slowed, but did not stop.  Apparently this woman was cut from the same bolt as another with whom I was more than a bit familiar and it would require more than one single orgasm to satisfy her that I had adopted an attitude of proper pertinence that might sway her to finally bestow upon me final absolution.  Again her hips began to rock with increasing speed, and her pussy and pubic bone at times began once again to violently buffet my already tender and bruised mouth and lips.  “Good god sister!” my mind screamed, “Forgive me for I have sinned!”

The events I’ve described played themselves out again and again over who knows how much time.  Eventually I began to feel numb and disoriented, satisfied to maintain my silent vigil as I absorbed the punishing assault, at times feeling like I was going in and out of conciouness.  Certainly she must have been aware that my efforts on her behalf, most enthusiastic at first had waxed quite weak and feeble.  I had long since lost count of the number of orgasms that had rocked her thin frame.  The most accurate character that I think I can put on the experience was that as they might say in Texas, Miss severe used me like a rented mule. If she didn’t stop soon I feared I would slip into a coma, the pain in my jaws and general facial area I think all that had prevented that from occurring already.  Then, finally, when all hope seemed lost I heard here give one last strident moan of pleasure and then she scotted backwards, withdrawing that lethal pussy from my mouth.  Resting what, in all fairness was a very attractive ass on my chest and supporting herself with her arms, hands firmly planted on my shoulders.  “Okay mister,” she began in now another and strangely dreamy tone.  “Have you learned you lesson about getting your nasty pleasures at the innocent of some poor, innocent girl?”  From meanly used lips, I managed to croak that yes, indeed, she never need fear of suffering any further abuse at my hands.  I am a rehabilitated man!”

“Very well then,”she said, tiredly swininging a leg over me and the bench to dismount and stand.  You can go now. It’s now past time for me to really close the store.”  Shakily I got into a sitting position and then nearly pitched forward into the plate glass mirror when I attempted to stand and was suddenly discombobulated by a bout of sudden dizziness.  She quickly reached out to steady me and held on tightly until I was able to gather my wits and remain upright under my own power.  She grabbed me by an arm in what seemed now an affectionate and protective grip and kindly escorted me to the exit door.  Pausing at the door, I offered to purchase a pair or two of the slacks, not wishing her to miss out on a sale in light of the substantial inconvenience I had caused her, but she smiled and dismissed me with a wave.  “No, it’s okay.  It’s time to close now.”  Then she added with an impish grin, “However, it is always slow here on Staturday mornings, so next week if you are in a shopping mood, please do feel free to come and look at slacks again.”

Not wishing to run afoul of her with the possibility of escaping with my life, and still marginally intact, I warmly agreed that I would certainly consider it, knowing as I said it that I would never come to within 50 miles of this place again if I could help it.