lunchtime spanking.

My lunch hour is usually booked solid.


My dungeon is in the business district, so I get a multitude of men looking for a lunchtime spanking.  It's the busiest time of the day; sometimes I can get away with only working lunchtimes.  At over two hundred dollars an hour, I can take three clients between eleven and two o'clock, and easily call it a day.  Which is why I got I to this business.  That, and having a passion for playing out this type of fantasy.

My first appointment is with Roger (probably not his real name).  I don my most intimidating outfit, complete with boob-spilling-out corset, black lace thong underwear, and thigh high leather boots.  I wear full make-up, including ruby red lips and liquid black eyeliner, taking extra care to apply everything precisely.  This is when I get into character; seeing myself transform in the mirror in front of me.  I really feel the mistress in me coming out.
I hear him knock, and reply, "Enter."  Not that I'm completely cold and calculated.  What I'm doing actually takes a lot of care and empathy.  First clients are encouraged to sit down with me, in an open and frank discussion of their fantasies and sexual history.  Boundaries, safety, and explicit consent are a must.  I usually end each session with a hug, and when I have a particularly brutal session with someone, I always write a follow up letter.
Roger enters wearing slacks, a crisp white shirt, and tie, which I immediately make him strip off.  The power play begins right when he walks in the room.  I am always fully clothed harshly in leather, whereas they are always vulnerably naked.  "An afternoon spanking?"  I offer, when he's removed all his clothing.
"Yes, mistress."
"And what have you done this time, Roger?"
"Umm..."  I take an intimidating step towards him.
"Roger?"
"I... think about other women."
"Other than your wife?"  His offences are never really all that punishable, but I alter my path accordingly, slowly circling around him.  The heels of my boots click on the concrete floor.
"Yes," he admits.
"Yes, what, Roger?"
"Yes, mistress."
"But, you don't want me to be your mistress today.  Do you?"  I've had Roger as a client so long, that I can make this leap.
"No, mistress."
"What do you want me to do for you, today?"  Even though we go through the same dance every time, he still has a hard time saying it.
"I..."
"Poor Roger.  Are you nervous, my little boy?"  He nods, afraid to look me in the eye.  "You know mummy loves you, right?"  I come around to his side, and whisper in his ear.  "It's just that I don't love the things you do."
"I know."
"But, you did the right thing in coming to me.  Didn't you?"
"Yes."
"You want to be a good boy very badly, don't you?"
"Yes, mum."
"I know you do.  You want to be mummy's good boy, don't you?"
"Mmm.  Yes."
"Kneel on the ground."  He does, his cock already at half mast, and obediently clasps his hands behind his back.  I take another calculated walk around him, the sound of my heels echoing in the room.  When I've reached the other side, I harshly pull on his ear, and he briefly cries out. "Are you sorry?"  I ask.
"Yes, mum!"
"Mummy has to punish you, doesn't she?"
"Yes, please!"
"That's a good boy.  You want it, don't you?  Tell me how sorry you are."
"I'm sorry, mum!  I'm so sorry.  Don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad.  I'm disappointed."
I let go of his ear, and he rubs it.  I walk over to a chair, moving my hips so that he gets a good show of my ass.  I'll only sit when he stands, to maintain my power over him.  I put my hand on the back of the chair and give him a burning stare.  He writhes, looking anywhere but my eyes.
"You know what I have to do, don't you?"
"Yes, mum," he answers.
"It's for your own good, isn't it?"  He nods.  "No, mummy doesn't like doing this to you any more than you like getting it."  He nods again, reddening a little.  His erection is standing fully out from him, now.  I can tell that this embarrasses him, considering the mother-son role play.  I decide to exploit the fact.
"Or, do you like it?  You bad little boy."
"No mum," he says, shaking his head furiously.
"I can see your little cock sticking out."
"No, mum!"
"I can see your tiny, little boy cock sticking out."  He looks down in shame.  He's sweating.  I approach him again.  "You haven't been touching that little thing, have you?  You know only bad boys do that."
"No, mum."
"Tell me the truth.  Have you touched it and made it squirt?"  I lean forward and wag my finger in his face.  He has a good view of my bulging breasts, now.  He shakes his head again.  His cock is so hard, that the veins are all puffed out.  "Have you rubbed it?"
"No!"
"Have you stuck it into anything?"
"No, I..."
"You can tell me.  It's all very confusing, I know..."  I take his head in my hands, and hold it against my abdomen, stroking his hair.  I could do this for hours.  Luckily, I get to.
"I know you have these thoughts in your head that you can't get out.  I know that they make your little dick stick out like that.  I want you to know that you can tell your mummy.  You love your mummy, don't you?"
"Yes, mum.  Very much."
"Then, why don't you be a good boy and tell me what you did?"
"I... touched it, mum.  And I had bad thoughts.  I'm sorry.  I'll never do it again..."  But, I've already let go, and am slowly walking back towards the chair.
"Come here."
"Mum!  I promise, I won't do it again!"
"Come here, Roger.  Do what you're mother is telling you."  He doesn't say anything, but slowly looks around for a way out of this.  "Roger?"  I say sternly.  "Be a good boy and come here."
"Y...yes, mum," he says finally, standing.  He lowers his head, and walks towards me, dick leading the way.  I sit, arm extended to him.  When he reaches me, I pat his back, encouraging him to sit on my lap.
"Now, mummy loves you very much.  Ok?"  He nods, and I bounce him a little bit.  I see a smile begin at the corner of his mouth.  "That's right.  But, mummy has to teach you a lesson right now, ok?  Now, turn around."  He sheepishly does what I tell him, laying prostrate over my lap.  I feel his hard cock against my thigh, as he folds it beneath himself.  This posture is very submissive and humiliating, especially for a man.  Women bend over all the time, but for men it can be very emasculating.  I thrive on it.
"This hurts mummy just as much as it hurts you."  I wind up, and give him a hard whack on the butt.  He gasps.  I raise my hand a second time, and he noticeably braces himself.
Smack.  He cries out.  I give him another.
Whack.  Another.  His flesh is reddening.
Another.  Again.  Again.  He convulses with each hit, and his dick presses harder into my lap.  I give him a rest, rubbing the area.
"Are you ready to be a good boy?"
"Yes!"
"Have you learned your lesson?"
"Yes!"
"Yes, who?"
"Yes, mum!"
Smack.  "Good boy."

I let my regulars masturbate at the end of each session.  I'm only responsible for the time leading up to it.