The door to his cell creaked satisfyingly as I slowly swung it open.

To his credit, my naked slave didn’t even dare to glance up at me when I planted my leather thigh — high boots in front of him. He was perfectly still, but I could feel the electric anticipation pumping off him. He had been locked in total darkness for an hour, which is an eternity when you don’t know when it will end — and you are waiting to be punished.

Periodically throughout the hour, I had put my raunchy romance novel down long enough to rise from the throne in the corner and approach his cell, letting the click of my heels echo menacingly on the cold concrete floor. I was toying with his mind. Having subbed in the past, I knew that every time I did it, he would be shaken back into a state of heightened anticipation thinking the hour was up, only to hear my footsteps retreat once more.

Now that I had freed him from his cell, I needed to decide what to do with him. He wanted to be spanked, made to feel powerless, and humiliated. That can mean different things for different people, so I was hesitant about how to proceed, but couldn’t let my indecision show. He needed me to be powerful and absolutely sure of myself. Learning to project those qualities even when I didn’t feel them was one of the most useful lessons I learned while working in a dungeon.

My slave looked ready to cry, but I hadn’t even started trying to make him cry yet. I still needed my inciting incident. He didn’t want elaborate roleplay, but did want there to be a logical reason I was spanking him, so I needed him to commit a punishable offense.

I reached out and gently wove my fingers into his dark hair, noting that it was damp with sweat despite how cool it was in the room. As I roughly seized his hair in my fist and started to haul him across the floor, he scrambled to move forward on his knees. Why does it feel so good to pull someone else by the hair?

I dragged him over to a bench before releasing my painful hold on his scalp.

“Sit.”

I was amused when he sat down on his haunches like a dog. It wasn’t quite what I had intended, but I couldn’t very well punish him for my own imprecision. I patted the stainless — steel bench twice, and he scrambled to get up and sit where I had indicated.

I stood directly in front of him and kicked his knees wide apart, pressing the toe of my boot into his vulnerable balls just hard enough to be terrifying. He panted heavily, but didn’t protest.

“So you want to try some cock and ball torture today, right?”

“No!” He tried to leap back, but was pinned to the bench by my boot. He looked up and met my eyes, desperately shaking his head.

The threat of CBT gets them every time…

I lifted my boot from his balls and bent down so that I was close enough to kiss him, but instead replied with disgust. “How dare you look me in the eye? You’re worthless vermin. You keep your eyes on the floor!”

“I’m so sorry, Mistress… I won’t — ”

“I grabbed him by the hair, pulling him across my lap into the classic over — the — knee spanking position”

“Don’t bother. It’s too late. I have to punish you now.”

I sat down next to him and draped a large towel over my thighs. Then I grabbed him by the hair again, pulling him across my lap into the classic over — the — knee spanking position.

As a sub, there’s something intimate about over — the — knee spanking that’s a turn — on, but it’s also humiliating and makes you feel exposed to have your ass up in the air. You can’t help feeling like a powerless child. As a Domme, over — the — knee always made me envision myself as a stern but naughty Headmistress spanking one of her subordinates — and I liked it.

I gave him a good warm — up on both ass cheeks before starting to spank him in earnest, swinging my hand down in stinging blows across his backside and upper thighs. As I built up the intensity, he started to whimper frantically after each blow. I was beginning to think I would need to tone it back down when I suddenly became aware of a telltale hardness pressing against my leg through the towel.

Perfect. He wants humiliation? Here it comes.

“Are you fucking turned — on by this, you little pervert? Do you think it’s hot to be bent over my knee and punished?”

I pushed him off my lap and he rolled to the floor in a heap.

“No, Mistress!”

“Then what the fuck is that?” I asked, gesturing with disdain towards his erection.

He hung his head in shame, unable to hide his arousal.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I just can’t help it.”

I chuckled and shook my head.

“Well, if you can’t help it, then you better finish. You clearly can’t behave like a civilized human being.”

“What do you — ”

“You know what I mean, you little shit. Finish,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument.

He paused for only a moment before starting to stroke himself. It didn’t take long until his movements became frenzied and he began to pant. As he seemed to be getting close, I laughed at him and he hung his head lower, utterly humiliated. But he didn’t stop.

“Look me in the eye, pervert.”

The look in his eyes as he met mine was a thrilling mixture of mortification, desperation, and finally relief as he came onto the towel in front of him. He buried his head in his shaking hands, taking deep shuddering breaths.

I gave him a few minutes to decompress, allowing him to break the silence when he was ready.

“Man, what a rush! Thank you, Scarlett… that was exactly what I needed.”

I let him get dressed and then gave him a big hug, thanking him for trusting me once again.

Michael was the CEO of a massive corporation, so in his day — to — day life he was always the one in charge. It turned him on to have a strong woman put him in his place sometimes. I was always happy to oblige.

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