– Dance for me.
You glare at me in defiance.
Lips pouting, trying to look angry.
But you are just cute.
I giggle.
You smile, hopeful to have defused the dancing situation.
– Do I need to whip you?
You shake your head, looking at the thick leather whip.
The one is made to hurt. Only hurt. In that nasty way.
Your hips start to move, swaying from side to side.
Following the rhythm of the music.
Arms stretch above, showing the entirety of your fit body.
I smile.
You giggle. Trying to be cute.
So I whip you hard.
The thick braided leather leaves an angry red welt on your ass.
You cry out and glare at me.
Now there is a hint of real anger in your eyes.
– Do you want me to stop?
Your head shakes rapidly.
Eyes begging.
But it’s not good enough.
– So do you want me to stop?
– …no…
Your voice barely exists.
– But you are so mean.
– That’s why you like me, no?
– …yes…
– So dance, my doll. Sexy. Seduce me. Make my dick hard. I know you know how to. You are beautiful, after all, aren’t you? And all the men want to fuck you, isn’t that right? You might be the hottest piece of meat in here.
Your eyes are down to the ground as you dance. Face blushing. But you dance. Sexy as you are. In your white ribbed tank top and matching panties. A red spotlight illuminating you straight from above. Only a thin, shimmering, golden see-through fabric separates the elevated platform from the room around us. But everyone is watching you dance.
– Put one finger into your mouth. Suck on it.
You obey.
– And look into my eyes. And pretend that it’s my cock.
You suck it.
– And another finger.
– …and another.
– …as many as you can fit in there.
Obedient, you push your whole hand deep into your mouth. The saliva starts accumulating. And you drool. Long thick glittering streams soak your tank top. Your hard nipples show through the fabric, and you are so fucking sexy.
– Now put your other fingers into your pussy.
Again eyes begging.
Your lips can’t pout with your fingers deep down the throat.
That may be lucky for you.
I move my hand from my cock to the whip.
And you quickly obey.
Fingering yourself.
Desperately.
Looking for a distraction.
From all the eyes watching you.
Forever remembering you.
And your shame.
– This is what you want, isn’t it?
– …yes…
– So what do you say?
– …thank you… thank you, andy… thank you for making me dance.
