Ah, Punish Tuesday!
It is a lovely day that was set up by none other than the delightful Miss Pearl, Dominant Lady Extraordinaire (in this town she’s Kink Royalty). It is a day she has set up with her Gentleman Nemesis to satisfy her kinky urges, and because scheduling in regular kink sessions seems to help with anxiety and whatnot. It is an inspired idea, and one that I have admittedly taken up with my subby-hubby as well.
“Wanna Come Over for Tuesday?”
Subby-hubby was tired on Tuesday. I was left with no one to punish. Dejected, I took a nap after work.
When I woke up, there was a message in my inbox. It was from Mr. Wildcard, and, as he is in all his interactions, very direct and to the point. “Wanna come over for Tuesday?” I could hardly believe what I was reading. Was I, switch and newbie Dom, really being invited by the Royal Couple to join them in a scene? Remember, this wasn’t in a play party context. I was delighted at the invitation, but also trepidatious. I had never played one-on-one like that before.
But subby-hubby was late coming home from work anyway and he kept complaining about tiredness, so I happily obliged. I asked when I should join them. The response was as succinct as ever: “8:30.”
I hastily dressed, but had a dilemma: should I dress for subbing, or Domination? Nothing had been determined in the messages. I chose to wear some nice lingerie (the only one not yet packed up for my upcoming move) and over that I wore a blue shirt and mini circle skirt. Versatile.
Eight thirty crept up on me quickly and I left.
He Lay Exposed for My Arrival
I rang the doorbell of Miss Pearl’s den of debauchery and was soon met at the door by the Lady herself. She was looking lovely, as is her nature, wearing a simple black shirt with a gorgeous chiffon skirt – black with a pattern of white roses. She was all smiles and seemed as excited as I was by the upcoming experiment.
She allowed me to remove my footwear and led me to the bedroom. Mr. Wildcard was already on the bed with not a thread on his body other than his collar. The collar complimented his nakedness beautifully: a slender piece of dark leather, studded every few inches, and with a lovely attachment for a leash in the centre.
The room was bathed in the red glow of a light garland. I like to think Mr. Wildcard was blushing slightly, but it was difficult to tell in the lighting. He did seem shy to be so exposed, however; laying on his side as if to shield himself from the two vixens only too willing to ravish him.
The Book of Submission
Miss Pearl made delightful conversation as we sat down on the bed by Mr. Wildcard. She showed me a little notebook – one of those lovely moleskin pieces – with the following dedication:
My name is Wildcard
I belong to Miss Pearl
The spine of the book had hardly been cracked. Only two pages other than the front page had notes. And they were interesting notes.
The first page described Mr. Wildcard’s hard limits. Miss Pearl ensure I acknowledged them, for obvious reasons (safety first!). They included some of the things that make my skin crawl too. I was relieved to find our hard limits similar, as that meant we were somewhat compatible.
The second page listed Mr. Wildcard’s demerit points. The more demerit points, the more punishment he would receive. Miss Pearl did not have a particular points system in place – it was rather following her whims, à la Whose Line Is It Anyway.
Spread-Eagled to the Bed
After I had perused the handy little manual to Mr. Wildcard, Miss Pearl unceremoniously put a hand to his chest and pushed him back on the bed. The bed was already set up for kinky business: straps under the mattress with cuffs at the end, just begging to be used.
Mr. Wildcard grumpily complained as Miss Pearl fastened his wrists. “You’re in luck,” he told me. “Miss Pearl was pondering whether to make you a co-Dom, or co-sub.” Well, it appears she opted to make me a co-Dom. And I was pleased as a cat with a fresh can of tuna! This would be my first time Dominating someone other than my significant other. I was excited… and more than a little anxious.
I was unsure what to do next – I did not want to overstep my bounds – so I carefully tied up his ankles. And there he lay. Fully exposed and completely at our mercy.
Miss Pearl began stroking the fuzz of his chest and belly. In her suave, gentle voice, she told me about Mr. Wildcard’s body; his favourite spots, his turn-ons. Gently, warily, I allowed my hand to roam over Mr. Wildcard’s pale flesh. His skin was similar to the touch than that of subby-hubby: the same warmth to the touch. I quite enjoyed tangling my fingers in the coarse curls on his body. Not quite the peach fuzz of subby-hubby, whose body looks almost waxed at the best of times. A different look and texture and a very pleasant discovery for me.
I pinched and scratched at him, stroked and caressed. Mr. Wildcard purred and groaned with beatitude. He also observed that my fingernails were less sharp than Miss Pearl’s (and shorter too), but not altogether unpleasant. Miss Pearl told me that the evening’s goal would be to tease the Gentleman mercilessly without allowing him to come. With any luck, she would keep him from coming until the next Tuesday. The face he made at that remark was one of aggravated frustration and arousal.
Soon, a drop of pre-cum formed on Mr. Wildcard’s cock. Miss Pearl beamed with delight as she spread the stuff all over the darkened head. She then leaned over Mr. Wildcard and asked him what the last porn he watched had been. Mr. Wildcard struggled to respond – in part because he couldn’t recall, and partly because i was busy nibbling his ear, distracting him from the conversation.
Stinging Spoon Spanking
After a good half hour of treating Mr. Wildcard to sensual petting and scratching, Miss Pearl decided it was time to use the hitty things on the Gentleman. She went to her wardrobe and pulled out her arsenal of riding crops, paddles and switches.
Placing a blindfold on his face, we decided to play “Miss Pearl or Peppermint?” with Mr. Wildcard. At first, we used petting and scratching. He scored wrongly when I pinched him, guessing at Miss Pearl instead of myself (he seems to think I’m gentler, the poor soul). Then, we began torturing his inner thighs with a riding crop. We alternated softness and pain by also using an ostrich feather on his body. We had the feather and crop switch hands, which got Mr. Wildcard confused as to who did what.
And then, it was time to spank Mr. Wildcard on the ass.
Miss Pearl freed him from his restraints and demanded he pick his implement of choice. Mr. Wildcard picked a large, lightweight wooden spoon.
Miss Pearl began with an easy warm-up: barehanded spankings to his cheeks until they were flushed. She allowed me to dish out some spankings too. She explained her technique to me, which has a certain upswing in the elbow, to allow for better aim. His ass became nice and warm – ready for the real deal.
Miss Pearl had Mr. Wildcard bend over her lap, grasping his cock between her thighs as she did so. Then, taking the wooden spoon, she began a series of rapid and intense strokes to his buttocks. He squirmed and writhed as the sting of the spoon became stronger with each hit, to high on endorphins to be embarrassed about my privileged front row seat to his humiliation. He gasped and moaned in pain and ecstasy, but Miss Pearl did not relent.
When Miss Pearl was done doling out her punishment to the gentleman, he requested to go refresh himself with a glass of water. He was permitted to do so, but told that, when he returned, it was the guest’s turn to have a go at his arse. Miss Pearl demanded that he properly present me with the spoon to continue his spanking when he had suitably slaked his thirst. He agreed and left us to chat for a few moments.
Upon his return, Mr. Wildcard displayed a herculean erection. “Where did that erection come from?” Miss Pearl asked him. He flushed somewhat sheepishly. The cheeky man had been doing more than simply drinking. He had also been playing with himself.
Miss Pearl then reminded him of the conditions for his departure for the room. So Mr. Wildcard turned to me and asked me if I would please spank him. He picked up the spoon and held it out to me as though it was my University diploma. It was not without some inner girlish pleasure that I took it.
I requested that he position himself on all fours. I was not kind – in fact, some would describe my actions as “going to town” on his ass. He tried to wriggle away from my strokes, but I requested he reposition himself and promptly continued. The cheeky bugger took advantage of his predicament to discreetly masturbate.
We Made Him Into Baklava
When I was done spanking, we still had to do something about his aching cock. It clearly desired some female touch. Miss Pearl went out to look for her lubricant of choice – sweet almond oil – but came up empty. So we chose to go with olive oil instead.
The smell of the oil added to our hunger for Mr. Wildcard’s vulnerability. Miss Pearl expertly rubbed his shaft between her hands in ways I had not been taught. I observed her work his cock while I teased and pinched his nipples from the back. He groaned in pleasure and his eyes rolled back into his head with ecstasy.
I then slid one of my hands down and teased the very base of his shaft, while Miss Pearl took care of the head. Mr. Wildcard now had three hands on his cock. It wasn’t long before he wordlessly gasped and cried out – a sign of him trying to hold his ejaculation. We let go of him for a moment and allowed him to catch his breath. His cock twitched with disappointment – so close! But we weren’t done with him.
We teased his cock over and over again. Always just to the point of coming, but stopping just short of the full thing. His grunts of restraint were delightful. He was so desperate to keep in control and follow Miss Pearl’s orders. I could feel his testicles contracting, ready to spew their load, but we did not allow it to happen.
Soon, his body felt febrile and he was panting with exhaustion from all the erotic treatment he was getting. We allowed him to take a break, as his cock had been teased so much he was numb with sensation. But he could be proud of himself: despite the eager throbbing of his cock, he did not shed a drop of cum.
He lay down on the bed, radiating heat. Miss Pearl sprayed him with cool water mixed in with some rose water. The bouquet of the roses mingled with the olive oil, smelling like a freshly baked baklava. The scent was mouth-watering.
Sadly, a look at the time drew the session to a close. I left Mr. Wildcard to receive his aftercare from his Miss and had to return to my own abode. It was a Tuesday after all – all of us worked early the next day.
I was very happy with my experience. I had enjoyed assisting Miss Pearl in this casual Domination. I also very much enjoyed
torturing pleasuring Mr. Wildcard. I found myself quite aroused by the whole thing. Subby-hubby found me to be quite wet when I got home.
I got one last little message in my inbox before bed: “Have to do it again!”