I have agreed to do the spanking A to Z challenge, and will publish 26 stories over the month, each containing corporal punishment, starting with "A" and ending with "Z".
Arched back, glistening muscles, aggressive posture on the dominatrix. The look of pain, submission, helplessness on the face of the “slave.” Sweat beaded on his naked body, hands helplessly tied to the wooden pole as the woman encircled his bound body.
It was a scene I didn’t expect.
Jodhpurs on her legs, riding boots on her feet, crop in her hand, she smiled, pacing around her client with firm steps that echoed in the barn.
“See,” my wife whispered as we watched from our hidden vantage point. “I told you he came here.”
I could scarcely believe my luck; our MP enjoying the evil machinations of the dominatrix’s mind. He squealed with every strike of her hand, squirming as the first whoosh landed on his bum. The red stain was joined by another. And another.
Each strike erotically visceral; painful and delightfully hot.
She was enjoying issuing the torment, watching our pathetic politician writhe and whimper, squalling with every swish of the crop, bawling as she hit his sit spot and begging for mercy as her locally-made artisan crop rapped the front of his thighs.
He didn’t want mercy; the rumours of his sexual antics had long swirled around the public relations community and could scarcely believe my luck as my paparazzi wife and I captured hundreds of photographs of his perverted antics.
I made contact with him the following day offering my services to manage the media shit-storm my wife was about to create. He needed my help. And the headline I concocted, “Trade Minister supports British equestrian supplier.”
“I can categorically state,” he told the tabloid newspaper. “that our crops are the best in the world. I’d recommend them to anyone.”
He got re-elected with a record majority. All part of a day’s work.
Featured image from here.