 |
|||
|
|
Don leaned back on the couch, eying Lauren up and down. His gaze lingered on her landing strip. It was a shame Lauren was so conscientious about grooming there; he was really looking forward to whipping her. Ah, well—given enough time, she was bound to slip up. He imagined getting whipped there would be agonizing. How could it not, a thin strip of leather whipping into the most sensitive part of her body repeatedly?
And even still, even though she had to know that it would be the most painful thing she’d ever experience, Lauren would accept his judgment if he decided she had earned a pussy whipping. Oh, she’d probably protest, and cry, and beg, and try (in her ridiculous fashion) to negotiate—the girl really was a wuss when it came to pain which is why it was the best way to modify her behavior to what Don considered more acceptable—but ultimately, she would allow herself to be hung upside-down, legs spread, and whipped. Rules were rules, after all, and if nothing else, Lauren was good at accepting the consequences of violating rules.
Even rules she hadn’t been aware of until she violated them. Or, Don thought with an inner smile, rules he had never intended to impose on her. Seriously, confessing to thinking about him with a lack of proper respect? That was a nice touch and had really made his day. The new interpretation was bound to give him ample opportunity to strap her bare ass in the coming weeks.
It was that “enough time” part that left him worried. Yeah, given a long enough period of time, Lauren would fail to trim her pubic hair one day, but the contract had an expiration date, and it wasn’t actually that far off. Or hadn’t been that far off, rather. That was why he had written a six-month extension into the addendum that he had just made Lauren sign. That should be more than enough time for her to slip up.
Really, the extension was for Lauren’s own good. She was nowhere near the point, yet, of having internalized her inferiority to men; if the contract expired, she’d revert to behaving as though they were equals in no time without the threat of a spanking looming in her mind. That thought gave him another idea: he wasn’t going to point out the extension to her.
She’d be free to read the contract on her own time, of course, but if she didn’t bother or missed that part, she’d walk around thinking that time was rapidly running down. Wouldn’t it be rich if she thought the contract had expired and returned to her previous behavior only to have Don point out the extension to her after a few days? By then, she would probably have accumulated all manner of punishments. Maybe she would have even neglected her pubic hair for those few days giving Don the excuse he finally needed to whip her. Yeah, that would be great, Don decided. Just the look on her face . . . as it sunk in, as Don began quizzing her on all her recent rule violations, as he made her walk over to stand in the corner and wait for the kind of long, hard spanking that she thought she would never again have to endure . . . just that tremulous, well-eyed look would be worth letting her misbehave for a few days.
But that was getting ahead of himself. Being too eager would make him impatient which could ruin the great thing he had going on. Instead, he focused on the moment. He had been reviewing the video of Lauren’s performance that he had had his friend Fidel send him. He hadn’t watched the whole thing yet—she had worked at the Landing Strip for over 14 hours, after all—but what he had seen certainly had been entertaining. The only disappointment was that he had yet to come across any inappropriate behavior on Lauren’s part that she had failed to report. It would have been fun to confront her with that and watch her desperately hem and haw and try to avoid a punishment.
Still, it was entertaining. Hilarious, even. Watching Lauren start out awkward and uncoordinated on stage, skimpily dressed and uncomfortable, and getting less dressed and more uncomfortable by the minute . . . she had clearly been humiliated, and watching her vacillate between that humiliation and desperately degrading herself just to get a man to tip her a dollar had been a thing of beauty. The highlight had been during a lull when Lauren was naked, down on all fours, clearly looking desperately to earn some tips, and practically being ignored by the few customers as she shook her ass right in front of them. That must have done wonders for her sense of self-worth.
And when she was waiting tables naked . . . well, even without having to be naked, Don didn’t think Lauren was a very good waitress. She had been constantly running back-and-forth—probably not too easy in her succession of ridiculously high heels—and still managed to take forever to get people their orders. She had gotten better with time at both dancing and serving, but there was no doubt that the experience had to have taken her down a much needed peg or three. Her self-image of competence was probably shot at the moment which was just the way Don liked her.
He had already decided that he wasn’t going to show her the video. Not yet, at least. No, he would save that for some time when he wanted to make her cry without threatening her with a spanking. Yeah, she would definitely cry when she saw it . . . cry to see how ridiculous she had looked . . . cry to be reminded of her humiliation . . . most of all, cry to learn that the whole thing had been recorded in high definition. Heh—maybe he’d just email it to her and order her to pick who she was going to forward it to from a list of friends, relatives, and co-workers.
But not now. Now was the time to reveal the new rules to Lauren.
|
|
|