Chapter 2: Cruel

Della dropped Frank’s keys into her purse as she entered his apartment.

Trailing behind her, Frank stood bewildered, watching as she strode about the place, through his kitchen/living-room and down the short hallway, like an admiral inspecting a ship.

Having admitted to Della (and to himself) only moments before that to serve her as her cunt-lapping lackey was his only desire, Frank was dazed. He stood, waiting in a stupefied state of fierce arousal.

Della’s first impression of the small apartment was surprisingly positive. Clearly, Frank was not a slob; even the kitchen was clean and orderly. The living room was spare and uncluttered - Frank hadn’t bothered to replace most of the furnishings Susan had taken in the divorce - giving it a calm and spacious feeling that Della found appealing.

She turned and entered the short hallway leading to the bedroom.

“Get undressed.” she told him over her shoulder as she poked her head in the bathroom doorway. It too was tidy; it was tiny, but neat.

“Very nice!” she enthused moments later, returning from the bedroom. “It’ll be perfect!”

Her apparent delight ended abruptly, and so did her momentum, on finding Frank exactly where she had left him, blinking dumbly in the entranceway.

“Why are you still dressed?” she said, sounding surprised. “Didn’t I tell you to take off your clothes?” she added, indignantly.

As if suddenly awakened, Frank snapped out of his stupor and began to remove his clothes - shirt, shoes, pants, underwear, socks - in rapid order, leaving them in a heap before the door.

His eight-inch erection bounced and swayed with his vigorous movements. He was panting, almost quivering in eagerness. He was ready to give himself to Della completely. Having realized that she enjoyed controlling him, he was prepared to worship her in any way she might wish. So, he was quite disappointed to find her still fully clothed.

Della stood, hands on hips, hiding her elation behind a severe visage of disapproval. He really is a handsome boy, she thought, only excepting that he was a little soft in the middle, a flaw she would relish correcting.

“On your knees, slut!” She sounded like a drill sergeant.

Frank, his disappointment vanquished by her imperious tone, complied eagerly, ready and willing to accept her abuse.

“If this is going to work, you’ll have to learn to be obedient,” she explained with exaggerated patience, stepping forward.

She put the pointed toe of her boot between his knees and nudged them apart so she could stand between them. So close. She looked down on him, her pussy pulsing at the possibilities. His balls, so vulnerable, hung mere inches from her boot...

Frank felt the heat of her loins on his naked chest. His face, all but touching her sweater-covered belly, sensed not only her body heat, but the scent of her, too. Deep breaths brought the spice of her arousal up his nose, piercing his brain like a drug.

“Are you going to be a good boy?” she said in a rhetorical tone.

She placed her hand on his head for a moment. Then, gripping a handful of his wavy hair, she pulled it back, tilting his face up towards hers.

“Do you want to be a good boy for me?” she asked solemnly, fixing his eyes with hers.

Frank tried to nod his head, held fast by Della’s fist. “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked.

“You know I have to punish you, don’t you?” she replied in the same solemn tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. His neck and scalp were beginning to ache. He didn’t mind; it was necessary.

“I’m going to punish you now,” she said decisively.

Frank felt relief and elation. Any trepidation was outweighed by the sense of a deep connection being forged.

“And, I will punish you again,” she continued, adding wistfully, “Yes, I will punish you often, whenever I wish. For any reason, or for no reason at all!”

How fantastical it sounded to Frank, staring up into her calm, cool eyes, captivated by the strength of her will, as well as her grip on his scalp.

Her visage sharpened, eyes narrowing, challenging him once again. Her voice turned cold and cruel again.

“You’re going to take everything I dish out. No exceptions, no excuses.”

She gave a little tug on his locks, jerking his head back further.

“Do you understand?” she demanded harshly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Frank responded, his voice quavering.

Looking down over his upturned face, Della hocked loudly and spat out a large wad of spit that hit Frank right between the eyes. Feeling it oozing down the side of his nose, Frank reopened his eyes in time to see the imperious satisfaction on her face.

She released her grip, allowing him to level his head and let her spit slide down to his lips, where he made a show of fetching it with his tongue, slurping it into his mouth and swallowing. Instinct told him she wanted this sign of his subservient humility.

She resisted the temptation to kick him in the balls. Later, she thought; we have all night.

“Get up,” she commanded. She nodded toward the kitchen behind him. “Bring me a wooden spoon, the longest one you’ve got.”

“Back on your knees,” she ordered, slapping the rounded end of the fourteen-inch-long implement Frank had presented to her. He had bowed his head and presented it solemnly, almost ceremonially, with arms outstretched. He knew what she was going to do with it.

“Assume the position!” she barked, and then clarified (a teachable moment), “Head on the floor, ass up in the air.”

Frank’s emotions were a jumble. A small part of his brain saw it as silly; wasn’t it all just a game, a role to play in a sexual fantasy? And yet, as he obeyed - as the word itself implied - it felt real, as if he had no choice but to do as she bade him. And the intense arousal - his cock was now leaking, dripping with lust - told him it made no difference: there was nothing he could do but to see it through, to become whatever she would make of him.

The act of kneeling while she stood standing was as clear a demonstration of his inferiority as being naked while she was fully clothed. It astonished Frank how natural and true it felt. Now, having “assumed the position” (he repeated the phrase in his mind like an aphrodisiacal spell), his precum was pooling into a shiny little puddle on the floor beneath him.

Frank waited anxiously for the ordeal to begin, hoping that the intensity of his arousal would soften the pain, while Della slowly walked around him, admiring his pale, smooth skin and the youthful vitality of his form, and took up her position behind him. He certainly was handsome, but Della had other priorities, like adding some color to the flawless white globes of his upturned ass.

Now, safely out of Frank’s line of sight, Della slipped her left hand under the waistband of her slacks, into her damp cotton panties, and slid a finger along her sopping slit, easily parting her inner lips and pressing into her horny hole and up against her swollen nub. She sighed silently, took a deep breath, and raised her right arm to strike her victim with the brandished tool.

“I’m going to give you ten.” Della belied her concupiscent state with grave tone and severe pronouncement.

“You will count each stroke out loud and thank me, saying ‘Thank you, Miss Della.’ If you fail to thank me or lose count, we will start over from one. When we’re finished, you will thank me again in your own words, explaining why you had to be punished.”

Oh God, I love this! Della thought as she laid the first blow right on target with a satisfying, resounding “SMACK.” The second blow was just about to land on Frank’s other cheek before he found his voice.

“One. Thank you, Miss Della,” he said shakily.

Had he forgotten for a moment, distracted by the novelty, or had he been overcome by the pain and humiliation? It hardly mattered; he had met the requirement, and he managed to keep up, through to the end, despite Della’s crescendo and accelerando, hitting harder and faster as her excitement grew.

She was breathless by the end, and not just from the orgasm that drenched her busy fingers at the final stroke. She had put all her strength and skill into the build-up, working up a sweat in her warm clothes, and holding back her climax till the last stroke.

She looked down upon her victim through a haze of euphoria, as if from a great height, and appraised the beauty of her handiwork, the bright glow of his flaming cheeks, so evenly distributed, without bruising or bleeding to mar its perfection.

Not that Della was averse to more brutal treatment, but there would be time for that. Just looking at him from behind, she could tell he was proud of himself. His cock had deflated and was no longer dripping, but he had borne his beating stoically, without a whimper.

“Thank you, Miss Della. Thank you for correcting my disrespect and my failure to obey you,” Frank announced as soon as Della was standing in front of him again.

Oh, yes. Della could hear it in his voice: the proud little man who had acted bravely for his lady. The time would come, and soon, she vowed, when the outcome would be quite the reverse: his will broken and his cock hard.

“Get up! On your feet!” Della stepped up to him as he straightened to his full six-foot height. Grabbing his left buttock with her right hand, she squeezed the burning flesh hard and pulled him up against her, while wiping her left hand on his face, smearing it with her fragrant cunt juice and shoving three slimy fingers into his mouth.

Frank was overwhelmed. The burning soreness of his ass merged with the intoxication provoked by the odor and flavor of Della’s ripe, spent pussy. His craving for her doubled in intensity. His cock stood tall again.

She slapped his wounded ass sharply, eliciting a small yelp. She then took a step back and made a show of looking him up and down.

“You like it when I hurt you, don’t you?” she posited, sounding very serious. She grasped his huge erection as evidence and jiggled it.

It hardly mattered that Frank wasn’t at all sure how he felt about the pain, there was only one answer to give.

“Yes, miss, if it pleases you.”

Precum was now flowing once again, spilling down Frank’s engorged shaft and over Della’s fingers, as she squeezed it to increase the flow.

“Oh, it does!” Della replied gleefully, much too gleefully to Frank’s ears.

She brought her hand to her mouth and licked off all the precum greedily, as if that proved her point. She was also pleased that he was now addressing her as “miss,” which she much preferred over “ma’am.”

And then she did what she’d been longing to do since the elevator ride. She swiftly, suddenly, and expertly kicked Frank in the balls!