Brandon’s a bad boy. I watch him do things: Under-tip the waiter. Leave his dirty dishes on the table. Toss his socks on the floor.

And when I catch him being bad, if I’m in the mood, I get what I want. And what I want is for him to pay.

Just the other day, I picked up some worn socks right in front of him and saw his face change. He went from confident to sheepish in a split second.

“What’s this?” I asked softly. Too softly.

He snatched them from me and looked away as he said, “Sorry. I forgot them.”

“Do I really need more pointless excuses for your bad behavior?”

His face reddened, but when I glanced down at his jeans, I saw his cock was already swelling. A hard mound fighting against his zipper.

“Go put these where they belong,” I snapped. “And then come back to me.”

It had been a long week. Punishing Brandon and then an orgasm or three sounded like a perfect stress reliever for me.

He trotted upstairs, and I heard him overhead, scurrying to the clothes hamper like a frantic animal. I imagined his heart thumping. I imagined him feeling both eager and scared. Because he knew he had to hurt before he got to feel good. Those were the rules.

I reached beneath my outfit and tugged my panties down. I had on a long skirt, high socks and tall boots. Now that the underwear had been removed, I was ready to deal with him.

He came down the steps slowly. He kept licking his lips and his dark eyes flashed with anxiety. His erection was still evident beneath his faded jeans.

I sat down on the sofa and patted my lap.

“Best to just get this over with,” I said.

He dipped his head in a nod.

I cupped a hand to my ear and leaned forward as I said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, bad boy.”

He flushed with color and barked, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

He approached me and carefully draped his lanky body over my legs. I rubbed his tight ass with my hand, moving my palm in soothing circles. I felt his muscles twitch and clench beneath the denim. I squeezed, kneaded and stroked, lulling him. At the exact second I felt his body relax, I delivered a blow so hard my hand stung from the force of it.

His hips jerked, and I felt the brush of his rigid dick against my leg. I struggled to quash my smile.

“Get those pants off,” I told him.

He nearly fell off my lap in his haste to obey. He got on his knees, undid his jeans and then stumbled-stepped to his feet to yank them off. I thought he might fall, but he quickly righted himself. Then he stripped off his boxers and his cock sprang free, looking harder than ever.

I grabbed his erection like it was a handle and tugged it, causing him to step toward me.

“Back over my lap,” I ordered, giving his cock a hard squeeze.

He arranged himself with a clumsy fumbling I found endearing. Between my thighs, my pussy was flowing like a river.

When Brandon was in place, I gave him three hard blows that made my hand ache and tingle. I pressed my fingertip to his asshole and watched him buck. His reaction made me laugh.

“You like that so much. You hate that you like it. You love that you like it. Either way,” I said, stroking his little hole. “You like it.”

He whimpered softly. He was feverishly humping my lap, and I shook my head.

“You’re such a slut,” I said. Then I laid down four hard strikes, alternating left, right, left, right. The final blow made him cry out and beg for mercy. His pleas made my pussy positivity pound with arousal.

I nudged my fingertip into his ass and sank it in to the top knuckle. But he groaned when I did it.

“You like that?” I asked, but only got a grunt in reply.

Again, I smacked his bottom, which by then was covered in red handprints.

“Answer me with words!” I told him, pushing my finger further into his back hole as he trembled on my lap. He moaned and moved like a man caught between pain and pleasure.

“Yes, I do,” he told me.

“Good boy,” I said, running my free hand in soothing circles over his hot ass cheeks.

I pushed him none too gently off my lap. He landed on the rug on his hands and knees. I hiked up my skirt, spread my legs and said, “You know what to do.”

He fell on me ravenously, eager to please me and make me come. He pushed my thighs wide and lapped at my clit. He nibbled my outer lips and flicked and swirled his tongue. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair and tugged until I heard him groan. I pushed my pussy against his mouth and held him there. He sucked hard on my clit and licked me eagerly.

“Fingers,” I demanded.

He sank back on his haunches for a moment and then pushed his fingers inside my cunt. First, a single digit that he curled, causing pleasure to flood my pelvis. Then when I moaned, he pushed a second one inside me. He watched, mesmerized, thrusting it in and out. Then he returned his mouth to my crotch, the strokes of his tongue coming faster and more urgently as I bucked by body against his face.

Brandon drove his fingers inside me and furiously painted whirls and streaks across my clitoris with his tongue.

I came, pulling his hair hard enough to make him bark with pain.

I put my hand on his forehead and pushed him until he fell flat back onto the floor. His cock stood up straight like a fencepost. I kept my clothes on, but hiked up my skirt like a prim maiden. I straddled him and pressed my hot, wet cunt against this belly.

He gasped, wriggled and groaned.

I slid my body down so my pussy rode along the length of his dick. It twitched against me. I rocked from side to side, getting some friction going. We were both locked in the bittersweet grip of pleasure.

Finally, I tired of my own game. I hovered there a moment, his cock right below my pussy. Then I positioned him at my entrance and sank down on him. The expression on his handsome face went from wonder, to pleasure, to bliss.

I squeezed my pussy muscles around his cock, barely moving my body, just clenching and releasing his shaft.

“Jesus,” he sighed as his lids drifted shut.

I pinched his nipple hard, and his eyes flew open.

“You look at me when I fuck you,” I said.

He nodded in agreement and hesitantly raised his hands to grip my hips, but I allowed him that indulgence. My skirt flowed around us, a soft fabric waterfall that moved with me as I began to rock.

He thrust up from beneath me, squeezing my hips hard enough to take my breath away.

I slammed down on him so my clit kissed his groin every time. The pressure and the connection, the thump and bang of my pulse in my pussy, it all swirled together to overwhelm me.

Through my sweater, I pinched my nipples hard, squeezing the tender flesh so tightly it ached. Then I let them go. The rush of sensation flowing back into my flesh mingled with the deep, warm pleasure of his cock inside me.

In an instant, I climaxed.

Brandon looked precariously close to coming himself, but I warned him to hold out a little longer with one harsh look that he instantly understood.

He was eager to please, and I fucked him vigorously for a few more minutes. I rode him fast and hard, which always does him in. I wanted him right there, on that razor’s edge of losing control.

He writhed beneath me, sucking air in fast like he was dying.

I pulled off of him, wrangled my swirling skirt and moved between his spread thighs.

I took his cock in my hand and then in my mouth. I sucked him, running my lips up and down his length as I used my hand to stroke his shaft.

He pumped his hips up and down like a madman. I let him do his thing for a bit before smacking the top of his thigh as hard as I could to still him.

He froze.

“Behave, or I will stop this and you won’t come. Is that clear?” I warned ominously.

He chewed his lower lip but nodded.

“Say it!”

“Yes,” he replied.

I sucked his dick once more, bobbing my head and swallowing him as deeply as I could.

He groaned, a drawn-out sound that spoke volumes. It told me he was desperate to move, but he wouldn’t. Because I’d forbidden it.

Brandon’s fingers curled against the thick carpeting as he struggled to obey. I loved watching him strain to please me. It gave me a perverse thrill.

I continued the blowjob with extra fervor. Knowing I was tormenting him added to my personal pleasure. Before long, he was shaking like a man with a high fever. His feelings were intense, and he wanted to move, to take what his body needed. But he knew darn well I’d follow through on my threat.

I sucked him hard and then licked him softly. I used my finger to nudge his defenseless asshole. When he was whimpering helplessly, I finally took pity on him.

“You can move, and you may come. You’ve made it up to me,” I said.

That’s when my good boy’s hips bucked up, his fingers ground against the carpet and his thighs trembled and shook. He groaned loudly, and his cream flooded

my mouth.

After I swallowed down his load, I sat back and studied him. He wouldn’t forget his socks now, I thought. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember to put them away or remember to leave them out. But either way, I was sure he’d remember.