Chapter 1

It was Saturday morning and I dressed in a pair of comfortable athletic shorts, tee shirt and a well-worn, comfortable pair of running shoes. Saturday was the day Mistress designated for me to go to the market to shop for the groceries for the meals I would be preparing during the upcoming week.

Walking downstairs I detoured to the living room to get the shopping list and to see if she had any last minute instructions, finding her seated on the sofa polishing her nails.

“Mistress, I’m ready to leave for the market.  Anything special I can get for you?”

Applying a last coat of polish to the nail she was concentrating on, she glanced up at me and gave me one of those impish grins that always spelled trouble for me, causing my heart to skip a beat and my pulse to quicken.

“No, pet,” she relied.  “Just get what I have put on the list. But before you leave I have a little assignment for you.  I think I would enjoy teasing and denying you this weekend and so we start this morning.”

Groaning inwardly, but hoping I wasn’t revealing anything openly, I merely replied, “Yes Ma’am, as it pleases you.”

“Dear me, pet, you don’t seem terribly excited about my little plan.  Don’t you care about pleasing your generous Mistress?  Lord knows I go out of my way to keep my little pet in a good subbie place, do I not?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am!” I stammered.  “And, of course I am always excited to serve you in any way you find pleasing and didn’t intend to intimate otherwise.  I suppose I was just focused on the shopping and I apologize Mistress if I seemed indifferent.”

“Ah,” Mistress cooed.  “That’s my sweet pet and of course you are forgiven.  Now, be a good boy and push those shorts down around your ankles.  I’m going to have you perform a little task before you leave for the market to get things started.”

Obligingly, I hooked my thumbs in the elastic waistband and pushed the shorts to my ankles, standing before her dressed in the tee shirt and the lacey, girlie boy shorts panties she had laid out for me to wear this morning.

“Oh pet,” she giggled.  “You look so cute and oh so sexy in those panties. I actually think I prefer the boy short style on you even over thongs.  Now, dear push those pretty panties down to your knees.”

Again I complied, feeling the heat in my cheeks and ears rise.  I supposed I’d never completely get past the humiliating feelings of being made to wear female knickers for Mistress’ amusement.  Yet even now the humiliation was taking its predictable toll.  I could already feel my manhood stiffening and become erect.  It took only moments before I was completely hard, provoking another giggle from Mistress.

“Oh, pet I see you are actually quite enthusiastic to get started with my little game for the weekend,” she laughed.  “Very well then.  Start stroking that darling little prick of yours and give me three good edges before you take off.  Inform me when you reach each edge and you shall receive a little break before beginning the next.  Understand dear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, a bit forlornly and then I began masturbating.  She turned her attention back to her nail polishing as I stood there stroking my now throbbing cock.  It was more than a little humiliating being made to stand there and stroke myself in front of her, especially since she was not even paying the slightest attention.  Yet, long ago, Mistress’ penchant for humiliating me had revealed that the feelings tapped a deep reservoir of intense sexual need and arousal deep within me and reduced me to a state of sublime subbieness.  It seemed such a paradox and something I doubted I’d ever fully understand about myself.

Finally, I felt the edge approaching but continued to stroke until the first beads of pre-cum appeared on my cock tip.  Mistress didn’t consider a proper edge had been performed lacking that bit of physical evidence. 

“One Mistress,” I croaked huskily, continuing to stroke, drawing ever nearer to the moment of inevitability, until she looked up, smiled and replied, “Very good pet, you make stop for 60 seconds.”  She then went back to the nails.  Carefully I watched the digital second hand on my watch as the minute swept by.

Quickly it passed and I began again stroking my thick, now very throbbing shaft.  Much quicker this time, I was poised at the edge of an orgasmic abyss, a few more drops of oozing pre-cum produced in testimony.

“Two, Ma’am,” I squeaked, my voice now choked with arousal.

“Excellent, pet,” she acknowledged absently, not bothering to look up at me.  “45 seconds this time.”

Watching the watch, the 45 seconds passed quickly and I began again, anxious that I wouldn’t be able to stave off the orgasm my body now demanded but also relieved that this would be the final repetition.  Even sooner, I reached the edge, my cock now twitching with tiny spasms running up and down the length of my swollen shaft.  As I announced the third edge, there was now not drops but a tiny rivulet of pre-cum welling from my tip.  She seemingly ignored me and I was left to continue although any second now, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from climaxing.

“Please Ma’am!” I begged.  Looking up, she fixed me with her large, brown, sensual eyes, and smiled.  “Oh very well, little boy.  You may stop.”  I quickly removed my hand and attempted to stay by force of will the eminent flood of spurting semen now dangerously close to the surface.  With relief, little by little the nearly over powering urge began to recede like the ocean tide going out, leaving me awash in sweet relief.  Mistress became quite cross when I displayed a lack of control.  The last time I came without permission, when she finished paddling my bare ass, I was unable to sit without major discomfort for nearly a week.

Finally, she had finished the last nail and looked up at me, standing there feeling foolish with an enormous, angry red and throbbing erection, with shorts about my ankles and panties at the knees.

“Recite for me this little mantra, pet,” she began.  “Recite it 100 times if you please.  Spurting cum is my greatest pleasure!”  Gritting my teeth, I began to recite as she instructed.  Finally I had repeated it for the hundredth time, my cock still hugely erect, my balls burning with need.  Again she seemingly paid me no mind, but looked up immediately after my one hundredth repeat of the mantra phrase, evidencing the fact that she had been paying attention.  

  “Oh, what a good boy!” she exclaimed.  “Come, kneel at my feet.”  Awkwardly I shuffled to the sofa and kneeled before her.

“Listen carefully pet, here is the remainder of your assignment today.  Once we finish here you will go back upstairs.  From the toy chest get lube, the remote controlled egg vibe and a condom.  Lube you bottom, put the egg in the condom, then insert it in your cute little bottom and turn on the vibe.  While you are out this morning, before going to the market, choose five different locations and go to them one by one.  At each location, you will drop your shorts about your ankles, push your panties to your knees and stroke your cock until you perform a proper edge.  After the edge, straighten your clothing and go on to the next location you have chosen.  Repeat these instructions until you have performed five proper edges at the five different locations.  There must be five minutes between each edge but no more than ten so choose your locations accordingly.  I will leave the selection of locations up to you, thus you may prove how adventurous you are by doing the deeds behind some bushes in a park or some other exciting public venue.  In the alternative, you can choose something less risky, and prove that I am right about what a sissy boy you are by restricting the locations to places like public toilets.  The egg vibe will remain on throughout, at the highest setting.  It stays on until you have completed the little adventure set before you, the grocery shopping and have returned home.  Any questions?”

“No, Mistress,” I answered dully.  “I understand the instructions.”

“Good boy!” she beamed.  “Now, upstairs with you and get going.  And, please pull up your panties and shorts.  I won’t have you falling on the stairs.”

I stood and pulled my clothing back into place, trudged upstairs and collected the required items.  After lubing my bottom hole, I inserted the condom-ensconced egg vibe into my bottom, pulled up my panties and shorts, turned on the vibe and then concealed the wire inside the waistband of my shorts before stowing the remote in the pocket of the shorts.

I then went back downstairs where Mistress waited at the door.  She handed me the money for the groceries, the grocery list and gave me a peck on the cheek, before bidding me good-bye.  “Have fun dear,” she called sweetly from the doorway as I walked somewhat uncomfortably to the car.  As the vibe buzzed away in my nether regions, already the arousal that had never really subsided, returned with a vengeance, steadily climbing towards a fevered pitch.  “I’ll show her!” I thought indignantly.  I hated it when she emasculated me with that sissy talk.  Starting the car I backed from the driveway and accelerated down the street, on my way to the first location, a nearby neighborhood park.

Chapter 2

Driving into the city park and seeing a host of cars already present in the parking lot immediately deflated my bravado like a balloon pricked by a pin.  While not the sissy Mistress seemed resolutely certain I was, -- or at least was set on transforming me into, I had no fondness for offending those with no affinity for my kinky propensities.  In my own opinion, it was only rational that I felt more than a little adverse to the idea of making a perverted spectacle of myself in a public place.  Sure I well understood that a healthy appetite for some of the kinkier aspects of sexuality did not equate to perversion yet I was also quite crystal on the reality than many of the fine members of kink-challenged society would beg to differ.  Still something inside, perhaps the last vestiges of male ego that Mistress had not yet succeeded in exorcising, compelled me to park and get out of the car.  Certainly the incessant buzzing in my behind contributed to my resoluteness of purpose, and grim determination to proceed in spite of the inherent risks attached to my plan, given the generous number of strollers, joggers and hikers in attendance.

Being familiar with the park, I determined that my best course of action lay with a nature trail that meandered through the forested perimeter of the park and I felt somewhat confident I could find a suitable spot for my inaugural performance.  Yet, doubts about the wisdom of my decision dogged my heels like a persistent terrier as I set foot on the graveled pathway leading into the nearby glen.  Within a hundred yards I had already encountered several people.  Fortunately by happenstance I had selected suitable attire consistent with a person taking a light morning stroll in the park and thus would not raise any suspicion as to me real intent.

On the drive, deep in thought my turgid member had subsided to a degree, yet had never achieved perfect flaccidity.  Already, however, the circumstances, the vibe and the mission before me had fully awakened the thing from its near slumber and it eagerly anticipated vigorous flagellation.  A few more hundred feet brought me to a point where there was a thick copse of trees and undergrowth perhaps a stones throw distant from the trail.  It certainly showed promise as a venue for my naughty intentions.  Trudging through the underbrush off-trail I choose a spot and carefully rotated 360 degrees and scanned.  Satisfied that there was sufficient foliage present to screen my activities, I slipped the shorts to my ankles, the panties to my knees and set about the task before me.  Gripping my throbbing manhood in my right hand I began to stroke, continuing to scan side to side to guard against impending approach by some fellow nature enthusiast.  I was standing with me knees as part apart as was possible given the restrictive effects of my clothing, by bottom in firm contact with the rough bark of a tree that I used to shield myself from view of the nearby trail.

Despite my earlier misgivings I was soon in the spirit of the thing and moved with some rapidity towards my goal.  Just as the edge hove into view and testamentary drops of watery, milky-white fluid began to ooze from my tip, something zipped past my vision in a blur and I noticed an intruder light upon the tip of my swollen prick.  Before I was able to move and swat the offending interloper from my turgid appendage, I felt a sharp burning sensation on the head of my cock.  While processing the intense sudden pain, I looked up and only then noticed that there was a cloud of angry hornets encircling my head.  Apparently I had unknowingly bumped against a hornet's nest attached to the tree during my throes of arousal.

My first instinct was to flee in order to avoid getting stung again remembering too late the inconvenient present arrangement of my clothing and so with the first sudden step I went sprawling headfirst onto the ground, my head absorbing a nasty blow from a rock it contacted during the fall.  As I lay face down trying to regain my senses from the blow to the head, I was spurred once again to action when I sustained a second hornet sting on my tender, exposed ass.  Quickly getting to my hands and knees, I frantically clawed for purchase, crawling as rapidly as possible towards the trail to escape the angry stinging insects.  Wounded, bleeding, scraped and sweating profusely, I finally gained the trail, near the point of collapse.

In retrospect, I can't say that it was all that surprising when seconds later, the female jogger rounded the bend, took one glance at the by now filthy man with blood flowing from his head, shorts and frilly female panties around his ankles, an ominous looking electrical wire protruding from his butt, on hands and knees in the middle of the trail blocking her passage, issued forth a blood curdling scream before spinning and sprinting back the way she had came.  Forcing myself to my feet, I grabbed at the shorts and knickers, haphazardly pulling them up to cover my nakedness, and then in the manner of a drunken sailor, I lurched up the trail towards the parking lot.

Finally wheezing and panting for breath, I arrived at my car.  Luckily my keys hadn't fallen out of the pocket of my shorts during the melee.

Only after getting the car unlocked did I realize that the remote control was dangling and had been dragging behind me from the cord outside my shorts but the vibe was still buzzing valiantly along despite the rough treatment the toy had absorbed during my flight.  I stuffed the control in my pocket, jumped into the car, turned the ignition and burned rubber backing out of the parking space.  Quickly I accelerated away from the parking lot, fearing that a mob of angry citizens would soon descend on the crazed, perverted would-be rapist who had been lying in wait on the trail intent on de-flowering some innocent passing female jogger.  Although that was unadulterated fiction, I felt fairly certain that by the time that jogger came across someone during her own flight of terror, and rendered her tale, that would be the conclusion quickly arrived at.  I was in no mood to explain myself to an angry lynch mob bent on spilling blood so the faster I could get some distance between me and that park, the better I would feel.

Chapter 3

After speeding along for several minutes I finally began to regain a measure of my composure and slowed to the posted limit.  Attracting the attention of the cops by speeding was a complication I surely didn't need.  It then occurred to me that I must be hard up against the 10 minute time limit between edges given me by Mistress, so I had better find location number two and fast.  Looking like a beckoning oasis to a thirsty desert traveler, a convenience store loomed into view and I swung the car into the parking lot and parked.  Before getting out, I quickly concealed the cord attached to the vibe in my shorts.  Having calmed substantially, I became aware again that the vibe was once again having a telling effect on my arousal, the evidence being the awkward bulge in the front of my shorts. I walked into the store, as nonchalantly as my disheveled appearance allowed, but saw the clerk eyeing me suspiciously as I made for the restroom.

Entering the restroom, I was heartened to see a couple of stalls and quickly stepped inside one closing the door behind me.  I slipped the shorts to my ankles, managed to get the twisted panties untwisted and down to my knees, and then as I grabbed my shaft I gasped to see how grotesquely swollen my cock had become as a result of the hornet sting.  Adding to my problems was the fact that it was also beginning to itch like mad!  Courageously, after averting my eyes from the unsettling sight, I started once again to stroke my pitifully swollen, angry red cock.  Surprisingly, despite the many distractions of the morning, perhaps due to the urging of the vibe, I quite quickly found myself teetering on the edge of orgasm.  Several drops of pre-cum bore witness to the quality of the second edge achieved since leaving home, an event that now seemed to have occurred at least a decade ago, given the trials I had endured.

I straightened and pulled up the panties and shorts, concealed the vibe cord and then stepped out of the stall.  Walking to the sink, I turned on the facet and began trying to clean the grime and blood from my face.  Looking in the mirror, it was readily evident why the clerk had given me the suspicious stare when I had entered the store.  After several moments, I looked somewhat more presentable although I did have a small gash and ugly lump on my forehead from the rock I had struck during my fall.  I also found I had numerous and sundry scratches and abrasions on my face, arms, legs and knees that I apparently sustained while crawling out of the woods at flank speed to escape the hornets.  Feeling a little refreshed, I left the restroom and headed back to the car.  Looking at my watch I saw I had about five more minutes to find the third location.

I knew of a shopping mall close by and quickly decided to head for it to find a place for the third edge.  The ten minute time limit was proving to be far more stressful and nerve wracking than I had imagined earlier this morning.  The stress and the intense arousal would in the end prove a volatile mixture.  While not aware of in then, driving to the mall, soon I would begin engaging in more and more risky behavior.

Chapter 4

As I pulled into a parking space at the mall, I became aware that the sensations in my bottom from the egg vibe had fallen off dramatically, alerting me to the fact that the batteries were quickly being depleted.  Based on the clear instructions Mistress had given me that morning, I knew that must be remedied immediately and so my first stop after getting inside was a visit to an electronics store to obtain fresh batteries.  I selected a package, paid the clerk and then headed off to find the nearest restroom to restore the toy to peak performance.  Finding one I slipped quickly in a stall, removed the controller from my pocket and exchanged the batteries.  Ahhhh…immediately I was rewarded with renewed sensations, a buzz reminiscent of that still unforgotten swarm of angry hornets. Knowing that the stall would have to make do for edge number three since I was up against a time crunch, somewhat unhappily, recalling Mistress’ remark about sissies, I pushed the shorts to my ankles, lowered the panties to half mast and went to work once again on my still grotesquely swollen and itchy cock.

I noted immediately that they head had begun to take on some serious discoloration due to the hornet sting and the swollen, reddened, tortured thing was really starting to look more than a little frightful.  Still I valiantly stroked it and tried to ignore the itchy, burning sensation as best I could until once again I felt myself growing near.  Just as I was about to gaze into the abyss once more, I heard the bathroom door open and then slam shut followed by the horrifying sound of two voices.  Female voices!  Terrified, it struck me like a punch in the stomach to realize that I had stupidly entered a ladies room by mistake in my haste to make the battery exchange.  I heard two stall doors down the way closing and being locked and the women continued to converse while they went about their business.  After what seemed an eternity, I heard one toilet flush and then another and felt a measure of relief that hopefully they would soon depart and I could beat a hasty retreat from my perilous situation.  But fortune chose once again not to smile on me, as it was beginning to seem was my unhappy lot.

After the stall doors opened and banged shut, they continued chatting away and then I heard water running in the sink and later the sounds of lipstick tubes being opened, cosmetic cases being clicked shut and other sounds I assumed normally attended a visit to the ladies room.  The longer they tarried, the more concerned I was as the arousal was starting to seep away and I hadn’t quite gotten to that third edge.  I was in the last stall, furthest from the entry door and so at least for now believed my presence was unknown to them.  I didn’t want to risk that one advantage in my favor, yet I knew I needed to begin stimulating to get ready to nail the edge and then get out of there in a hurry when they left.  So, as quietly and gently as I was able, I started again to stroke, careful not to do so in such a vigorous manner that my swollen balls would slap against by inner thighs.  Actually the new source of stress and tension had favorable affect and I was quite soon recovering lost ground.  They were still chatting merrily away, one bragging about a sexual escapade from the previous evening, regaling the other with how some gentleman had really “pounded” her “swollen” pussy sending her into orgasmic orbit.  That tidbit, itself proved more than a little contributory to my own focused efforts.  Soon the sound of their chattering was blocked from my mind by the hum of extreme arousal and I stopped as a tiny rivulet of pre-cum emitted from my tip, falling to the floor and splattering soundlessly there.  At least my naughty errand had been accomplished and the voices seemed more distant encouraging me that slowly at least they were making for the door.  I quickly pulled up the panties and shorts, stowed my remote to traveling mode and waited.  The door opened and shut and all was silent.  Opening the stall door, I peered out around the corner and could see the coast was clear.

I strode rapidly to the door, swung it open and immediately ran headlong into a rather buxom, matronly looking woman on her way in.  She looked at me wide-eyed shock, a hand flying to her mouth and for one awful moment I was sure she was going to scream!  Thankfully she stifled the urge for just enough time for me to blurt out a hasty, yet sincere apology and appropriately sheepish explanation, “I’m so sorry I walked in only the realize this wasn’t the men’s room and I feel so foolish for my stupid the mistake.”  My apologist skills honed to a rapier edge from years of apologizing to Mistress, effectively saved the day and averted disaster. She dropped her hand and even smiled after a fashion assuring me that mistakes can happen.  I apologized once more and then departed with haste as she continued inside.

Feeling quite certain my demanding taskmaster would not reckon a different location in the same mall as two distinct locations I felt I had no choice but to make my way to the exit and find another spot for attempt number four.  So with more than a little feeling of frustration at having wasted the mall with mere toilet stall experience, I was headed back to the car feeling somewhat deflated.  Yet then it occurred to me that Mistress might actually think masturbating to a edge inside a ladies restroom was quite adventurous!  Especially if I took slight liberties with the story and spun it from the perspective that it was by intent rather than by stupid error that I came to choose the ladies room.  Feeling suddenly more satisfied, I unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel.  Actually after that last edge, my arousal was still quite high, the throbbing in my loins competing favorably now with the noticeable itch.  So perhaps taking the full ten minutes was wise at this juncture.  It would be a catastrophe if while acting in haste, I should fail now with only two edges remaining and inadvertently climax.  Just the mere thought of standing with bowed head and sweaty brow before Mistress, wringing my hands and trying to explain how I could be so careless as to fail her in successfully completing what she would term “such a simple” assignment, was enough to make my blood run cold.  Only heaven knew what horrible punishment she would devise, as it was an extreme error in judgment to doubt her infinite talent at devising the most diabolical means of reducing an unpleasing submissive to a quivering mass of confused pain and utter devastation.  Typically after enduring one of her punishment sessions, even those she flippantly referred to as “mild” never failed to leave me wanting to do nothing but curl into a fetal ball on the floor and weep.  No, failure was not an option I told myself sternly as I drove back onto the boulevard, my eyes scanning ahead for the next likely site.

There a men’s clothing store ahead!  That should do the trick.  It was a place I had seemed millions of advertisements for on television, but since Mistress selected and purchased all my clothing, I had never actually been inside one.  I would go inside, made a quick reconnaissance and if all appeared in order, take advantage of a changing room.

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.