Chapter 11

“Good morning, master,” Lola batted her eyelids at Pembroke. She had been awake for an hour lying across him, nervously waiting for him to wake up.

“Good morning, Lola,” he smiled happily, stretching and yawning, pleased as ever at the sight he was waking up to. He hardly ever slept anywhere but in the basement now. His beds upstairs were very nice, but he could not have lovely little things like Lola up there, chained to the headboard, and so this bed was his permanent favorite.

“A morning coffee would be nice, my sweet slave,” he said, kissing her on the cheek and lazily using his huge hand to untie her neck noose and release it. Lola still marveled at how he could so easily undo what she never could, even after hours of trying with both her puny hands.

Lola smiled at him and lowered her head between his legs beginning the task gently, lapping with her tongue at his balls, his ass crack and then his cock before striking up a steady rhythm of sucking while slipping a finger up his bumhole. In no time at all, Pembroke was arching his bac and cursing in pleasure as he came heavily into her mouth. Lola swallowed and made sure all cum was attended for and licked off her lips and his cock before kneeling back and awaiting instruction.

“Good girl, Lola. We are a great team down here, you and I,” he said lazily. “I hope that no further ... additions will upset the balance.”

Lola’s smile faded as she thought about who he might be referring to.

After feeding Lola breakfast and stroking her like a pet as she bent over on her knees and elbows to eat from the trays and lap up water, he disappeared upstairs and returned with his own breakfast: a huge burger, fries, and a large, full-fat Coke.

“Sorry, Lola, only one of us needs to worry about their figure. Yours is far too lovely for me to ruin—though you might earn a little chocolate now and then.”

He settled into the bean bag, lazily munching on his burger as ketchup dripped onto his chest hair. His double chin rested heavily above his broad, bare chest, and his fleshy body wobbled slightly as he shifted to get comfortable. His belly rose like a peak, firm enough to balance his food as he continued eating, savoring each bite without a care in the world.

“I thought we might do a test, of your listening skills and your obedience skills, a little game of “Simon says” he said, after sucking the coke straw and opening his mouth talking with the burger in it.

“I thought we might do a little test of your listening and obedience skills—a game of Simon Says,” he said, slurping loudly from his Coke straw before speaking with his mouth still half-full of burger.

Lola glanced at the food longingly. For nearly two weeks now, she had been given nothing but tasteless mush—and very little of it. She had always been thin, but Pembroke preferred her emaciated look. He liked how her rib cage pressed visibly against her skin and how her sharp hip bones jutted out, her skeletal frame a testament to his control. If he wanted tits and ass, he found it relatively easy to pay for it on the outside.

“Stand in the center there and get ready for my first instructions,” he said, still scoffing down his food.

Lola stood as commanded, but Pembroke continued eating, seemingly in no hurry to begin. The seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Her legs grew weary, her mind uncertain. Should she interrupt him, ask if he was ready? Or should she remain silent and still, standing obediently at attention?

Without looking up, he said simply, “Raise your right hand.”

Lola swiftly and efficiently lifted her right hand, holding it steady as she awaited his next command.

“I didn’t say Simon says. You failed at the first hurdle,” he said calmly, not even raising his eyes from his food, still chewing loudly. “Now, over my lap. You’ll get a spanking for each mistake.”

Lola sucked her teeth in annoyance but quickly closed her eyes, accepting her mistake. With nimble steps, she walked over to Pembroke, carefully avoiding his food balanced on his stomach. Nervously, she draped herself across his thighs, placing her hands and feet firmly on the floor. She adjusted her position, arching her back to ensure her bottom was perfectly presented—ready for the punishment to come.

“For each mistake, I’ll ask you how many spanks you think you deserve. Go on, tell me your suggestion.”

Lola bit her lip, hesitating. Too few, and he might be disappointed. Too many, and he might think she was trying to manipulate him. Finally, she spoke softly, “Ten, sir. I think I deserve ten for this one.”

“Good girl. Ten it is.”

He raised his palm and brought it down firmly on her right buttock, delivering a sharp slap. He was deliberate, ensuring the impact left a clear palm print on the small, pale curve of her skin. “Count each one for me Lola.”

He raised his palm again and brought it down with another sharp smack on her right buttock.

“One, sir,” Lola gasped, her voice trembling as the sting bloomed across her skin.

Smack! The next slap landed on the same spot, intensifying the burning sensation.

“Two, sir,” she choked out, her breath hitching as her body tensed against the sharp bite of his hand.

Smack! The sound echoed through the room, crisp and unyielding.

“Three, sir,” her voice faltered, her fingers curling into fists against the cold floor as her bottom twitched involuntarily.

Pembroke maintained a steady rhythm, each slap deliberate, each impact leaving another fiery mark on her pale skin.

Smack! “Four, sir.”

Smack! “Five, sir.”

Lola’s voice wavered, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as the sting grew more intense with every strike. Her bottom burned under his firm hand, the warmth spreading across both cheeks now.

Smack! “Six, sir,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pembroke paused briefly, his palm resting heavily on her sore skin. Then, with a swift motion, another slap cracked against her tender flesh.

Smack! “Seven, sir.”

Lola bit her lip hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to keep counting.

Smack! “Eight, sir.”

Smack! “Nine, sir.”

The final slap came down with deliberate force, the sharp smack ringing out loudly.

“Ten, sir,” Lola exhaled shakily, her voice breaking slightly as she finished counting.

Her body trembled, the heat radiating from her stinging bottom as she remained still, her breathing uneven and her face flushed.

“You took that well, Lola. Now up you get, let’s continue the game.”

Pembroke lazily gathered the spilled fries and stray bits of burger back onto his chest, resuming his meal with loud, satisfied bites.

Lola pushed herself up, her legs trembling slightly as she walked back to the center of the basement. Her hands cupped her sore, reddened bottom, gently rubbing the tender skin in an attempt to soothe the lingering sting. She awaited the next instruction.

“Simon says, raise your left hand.”

She raised her left hand obediently.

“Simon says, rub your tummy with your right hand.”

She rubbed her tummy with her right hand.

“Simon says, touch your toes.”

She bent forward gracefully, touching her toes without hesitation.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Lola froze, her face remaining still and expressionless, her eyes locked on the floor as she resisted the urge to follow the command.

“Good girl, you’re getting it!” Pembroke laughed, his voice carrying an amused satisfaction. “Simon says, do ten star jumps.”

Lola obeyed, pushing herself through ten star jumps. By the final one, she was exhausted, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Simon says, place your right foot against your left knee and stand still.”

She carefully lifted her foot and balanced on one leg, her arms stretched slightly to steady herself. Her body trembled with the effort, her muscles tight, and her breaths uneven. Pembroke grinned at her struggle.

“Good girl. Now, Simon says, crawl around and bark like a dog.”

She hesitated for a brief moment, still catching her breath, but then dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled around, letting out soft, breathless barks as instructed.

“Haha, now meow like a cat.”

She stayed perfectly still, her expression neutral, refusing to fall for the trick.

“Clever girl,” Pembroke said with a sly grin. “Simon says, act like a chicken.”

Humiliation washed over her, but she obeyed. She bent her knees and shuffled awkwardly across the floor, flapping her arms and clucking loudly.

“Simon says, pretend you’re laying an egg—it’s coming out of you.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment, but she lowered herself closer to the ground, squatting as if straining, her clucking growing louder and more exaggerated.

Pembroke laughed heartily, clearly entertained by her performance, food falling from his mouth.

“Simon says, start massaging your clit with your right index finger and pick your nose with your left index finger—count out loud while you do it,” he said, clearly amused, inventing the command on the spot.

Lola hesitated for the briefest moment before complying. Her right hand found her clit, and her finger found it under its hood and gently circled it while her left finger moved to her nose.

“One ... two ... three...” she counted softly, her face flushed with embarrassment at first and then rising arousal as Pembroke leaned back, watching her with a smirk of fascination.

“ ... seventy ... seventy-two...” Lola’s voice wavered as she continued counting. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her skin flushed from exertion and something else.

“Switch your right hand with your left hand.”

Lola removed her left hand from her nose and lifted her right hand from her pussy, switching them without hesitation.

The realization hit her a split second later—she’d made a mistake. Her eyes widened, and she quickly tried to reverse her actions, but Pembroke was faster.

“Ah-ah-ah!” he wagged his finger at her, his voice playful yet firm. “No, no, no, Lola. You made a mistake. I didn’t say Simon says.”

He patted his lap with one hand, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Back over my lap.”

Lola swallowed hard and obediently moved towards him, positioning herself across his thighs once again.

“How many this time, Lola?” Pembroke asked, his voice calm but expectant.

“Sir, I think ... it was hard for me, and I was doing so well, but I was silly. Maybe ... maybe ... twelve?”

Pembroke chuckled softly, his large hand resting lightly on her exposed buttocks.

“Twelve it is, Lola.”

Pembroke delivered twelve measured spanks, each one sharp and deliberate, echoing through the basement. Between some strikes, his hand lingered, caressing the reddening skin, only to lift again for the next slap. Lola’s body jolted with every impact, her arms twitching instinctively toward her stinging bottom but stopping short, her obedience holding firm. Tears welled in her eyes, then spilled freely as the burning heat spread across her raw skin. By the twelfth spank, her bottom was red, hot to the touch, and trembling under Pembroke’s satisfied gaze as he ran his finger between the little valley between, an oasis of white untouched skin around her pussy and asshole.

“Now, back to the center, Lola. The game continues.”

This time, Lola cried audibly, soft sobs escaping her lips as she carefully stood. Her hands instinctively rubbed her burning, tender skin, offering little relief.

“Now we’ll stop with Simon Says—you’ve done very well,” he said softly, his voice carrying a faint note of satisfaction. “It was quite fun, I think you’ll agree.”

Lola sniffled, nodding slightly, her tear-streaked face still turned downward.

“Now, I’ll simply give you instructions, and you’ll perform them. Okay?”

She whispered, “Yes, sir,” with the slightest trace of sullenness coloring her voice.

“Oh, Lola,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “We’ll have to work on that little edge in your voice, won’t we?”

“Sorry, sir,” she said softly, her shoulders hunched in submission, her palms still on her buttocks.

“Now, I want you to turn around, lie on your back, and kick your legs up so your feet come right over your head. Make sure your pussy is above your face, and bend your knees. Be flexible!”

Lola carefully followed the instruction. She lay on her back and lifted her legs high, her knees bending as she slowly brought them over her head. Her back curved forward, folding her body in on itself as her knees came close to her ears. Her stomach hovered above her face, her breathing shallow and uneven as she struggled to maintain the awkward, compressed position.

“Now, I would like you to try and shoot out a little jet of piss and try and get it onto your face, do your best, darling.” he said.