Red Ass Special at The Mall

My mischievous reflection shines at me from the glossy bottom of the coffee mug i have drained three times this morning. Master has gone out with friends, and i sit in an empty house, tapping my scarlet nails on the table. A list of tasks has been left for me. He took the time to print it off the computer, perhaps in hopes that i might be obedient and do my chores before He returns. I see His point, but a certain sale at the mall beckons my soul. By my calculations, i should have plenty of time to hit the mall, do some shopping, and work through my chores without getting caught.

Within an hour i shower, dress, and hit the road. Thirty minutes later, I snag a primo parking space at the mall. I glance at my phone to check the time then hoof it toward my destination, where a gorgeous pair of high-heeled black leather boots has my name on them. Master had vetoed the boots because their price tag exceeds my allowance, but I know He'll love them once He sees how hot they look with that slutty red dress He likes to shove up to my tits when He bends me over the hood of His Mustang.

One pair of boots remains in the store, and just happen to be my size. I swear my feet smile as I slip them into the butter-soft leather and zip them up to just above my knees. I imagine myself wearing nothing more than boots, stockings, and a g-string, as I admire my reflection in the store mirror. Ahhhh...perfection. I wonder how can Master not fall in love with boots that have been sent from the heavens? These babies are destined to live in my closet. My subbie senses never tingle when I slide Master's credit card through the card reader and sign the receipt.

Still buzzing from my naughty purchase, I decide to reward myself with a warm, forbidden cinnamon roll. Thoughts of licking gooey, drippy icing from my fingers fill my head as I pass the corner jewelry store. A few minutes later, reward in hand, I scope out the food court for a place to sit. Just before I reach a table, I watch in horror as the cinnamon roll takes a tragic nosedive and faceplants on the cold white floor. I crouch to salvage my treat. As I wipe up wasted icing with a napkin, a pair of black work boots appears. A chill travels from my pedicure to my ponytail. I silently hope that black work boots are the hottest trend in guy footwear.

My eyes travel up two endless black denim towers. No way. A knot forms in my belly. I know those towers, but I pray I'm mistaken, even as His face comes into focus. The cool smile unnerves me, but it's the look in His eyes that has me about to jump up my own ass for cover.

"Make a mess, little one?"

"Um, hello, Master. I thought You were out with with friends. But, wow, this is nice. Now that You're here, we can grab a cup of coffee and talk. You know, we never spend enough time together, just talking. Who knew eighteen holes of golf would fly by so fast? So, I'll just finish up here and – "I chatter like a chipmunk on espresso.

Master levels His gaze at me. His eyes lock on mine.

"As it turns out, today I am only interested in three holes."

I swallow and say nothing.

"Been shopping, have you?"

"Sort of, Master."

"What's in the bag? I'd love to see what My credit card paid for."

Still crouching, I try to think fast. "Well, Master, I'd love to show You, but I can't. I'm doing some early Christmas shopping." My legs ache, but I don't dare move.

"Ah. I didn't know that women's shoe store carried shoes for men."

Damn. Since when does He pay attention to this stuff? I consider offering an explanation, but the warning in His eyes tells me to keep my mouth shut.

"On your feet. Now."

"Yes, Master." Within seconds, I stand before Him on unsteady legs.

"Get your bag and purse."

I grab my things and Master leads me from the food court to the main area of the mall. I feel His hand slide from the small of my back to the base of my skull. He wraps my ponytail around His strong hand and steers me as we walk in silence. We stop near a kiosk and He leans in close enough for me to feel His hot breath teasing my ear. My pussy tingles and dampens in response.

"There is a hallway just past the pretzel place. You will walk to the custodial closet near the end of that hall. Go inside and strip down to your bra, which will be pulled up over your tits where the words "I am a disobedient slut" will be written. You will wait for Me, wearing only the boots I know you bought. I expect to find you bent over, hands on a shelf, legs spread wide, with My credit card between your teeth." He tugs my ponytail. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now go."

"Yes, Master." Oh. Shit.

Master knows I hate being punished in public. I weave through mall traffic with my heart pounding at near-aerobic level. I reach the closet and make sure no one is watching before I step inside and close the door behind me.

The smell of public restroom/disinfectant threatens my gag reflex. A mop rests in a bucket of dirty water. The metal shelves Master mentioned line one wall. I bite my bottom lip and weigh my options. Do I run? Try to barricade myself in the closet? Pray for my doppelganger to show up and trade places with me?

Accepting my fate, I blow out a sigh of resignation. Praying that no one needs a dust rag or a bottle of glass cleaner, I peel off everything except my bra. The closet feels like the inside of a refrigerator. I want to cry as I step into my innocent boots, that do not deserve to be punished for my sins. I dig out my cheap eyeliner pencil from the bottom of my purse and hike my bra up to my collarbone. My nipples shrink to pebbles when the cool air hits my girls. With my left hand, I write "i am a disobedient slut" across the goosebumpy flesh of my tits. I drop the eyeliner in my purse and remember the credit card. Ugh. After wiping the card with my shirt, I place it between my teeth and try not to think of germs. About the time I spread my legs and assume the position, the door opens. I drop to the floor and begin scooping up my clothes until I hear Master's voice.

"I see you have followed My instructions." Relief floods through my veins at the sound of His voice and I scramble to my feet. The credit card falls from my mouth.

"Yes, Master. Sorry, I thought you might have been someone else, which would have been sooo –" I choke on my words at the sight of a man standing beside Master, dressed in a work uniform emblazoned with the name "Phil" and grinning like he has just won a case of beer and a year's worth of private lap dances from Megan Fox. I turn to Master, who is looking rather pleased with Himself.

"Phil, I'd like you to meet my slut." Master steps back, allowing Phil an unobstructed view of me and my boots. Phil, looking everywhere above the level of my eyes, offers me a meaty hand.

"Nice to meet you, Miss, uh...slut."

I send Master a questioning look, to which he responds with a slight nod. Visions of every public restroom I have entered flash in my mind as I shake Phil's hand.

"You, too...Phil."

Master turns to Phil. "As you can see, my slut has been naughty. She went shopping without permission, exceeded her spending limit, and used My credit card to fund those new boots she's wearing."

Phil glances at the words written on my tits. His eyes travel down my thighs to the boots that seemed like such a good idea a couple hours earlier. "Nice boots."

"Thanks, Phil."

Master rescues the credit card from the floor, wipes it on His shirt, and holds it before my face.

"Open."

I open my mouth and He returns the card to its former location between my teeth. "You will not speak or even open that mouth of yours unless I tell You to do so. Throughout your punishment you will play with your pussy. However, you may not cum, so don't even think about it. Are we clear?" I nod. "Good. Turn around and bend over, as you were when I came in. One hand on the shelf, and the other on your pussy. And you better have that ass high, slut."

I can feel Phil's eyes on me as I obey Master's instruction.

"You know why you're being punished, my slut. Phil, here, has been kind enough to allow us the use of this closet to carry out your punishment. In return, he gets to watch and possibly participate, depending on how things go. This all sounds good to you, as well, Phil?"

Phil may be the first janitor in the history of janitors to think he has lucked into the best job in the world.

"Uh, yeah. I've never done this before, but, hey...ya learn something new every every day, right?"

"That's the spirit, Phil."

The familiar sound of Master's belt whooshing through belt loops both frightens and excites me. I hear the jingle of the buckle as He folds the belt. My pussy tingles in anticipation. I dip two fingers into my wetness and rub it all over my clit. Master has never punished me in front of a stranger. I wonder what Phil must be thinking. I chance a quick look over my shoulder and see Phil's gaze locked on my bare ass, so I decide to toss him a few crumbs by giving my cheeks a little wiggle.

A moment later I feel my head being yanked back until I'm looking at the fluorescent bar of light across the ceiling. Master's hot breath caresses my cheek as His grip on my hair tightens.

"Oh, so now you want to play, My little slut. You enjoy disobeying Me, do you?" He rolls one of my nipples between His thumb and index finger.

I shake my head in response.

"Really. Are you telling me the truth, little one? I'm not so sure that you are being honest." His fingers clamp down on my nipple, sending a delicious mix of pleasure and pain straight to my pussy. I moan and nod, wishing I could drop the credit card from my between my teeth. I close my eyes and savor the sensation until...Smack! I draw in a sharp breath as the first taste of Master's belt reaches my unprepared ass. Damn! Master must be pretty pissed this time. He didn't warm up my ass first. I reach back to rub my butt, but Master pops my hand with the belt.

"Dang, that looked like it hurt," notes an observant Phil.

Before I can turn my head to glare at Phil I feel the bite of Master's belt a second time, then a third. Even I know He means business. I begin working my fingers in and out of my wet pussy, concentrating more on the pleasure than the pain of punishment. My swollen clit demands my attention, so I rub circles on it with my thumb. The scent of my arousal surrounds us. I try to make as little noise as possible, but find it increasingly difficult with each lash. My eyes close, and the mix of pleasure and pain pushes me closer to exploding as I fuck and rub myself. I don't notice that Master's face is so close to mine until He speaks.

"I believe our friend is enjoying himself. I'm going to take the credit card from your mouth. You may moan, but do not speak unless I address you. Understand?"

Trying to look like the saddest, most grateful little puppy in the world, I sniffle and nod.

"Yes, Master."

"Uh-huh. Nice try, you naughty thing. I know those eyes and they don't fool me for a second."

Phil snorts out a laugh. I turn to see him leaning against the wall, his zipper down and his hand stroking a rather impressive thick, hard cock glistening with precum. I roll my eyes before I can catch myself. Too late. Less than five seconds later Master has my hair wrapped around His hand as He pulls me to my feet. He leans down until I can see the contact lenses on his sexy (and angry) green eyes. Our noses almost touch. I bite my bottom lip.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" His anger rolls over me like waves.

"No, Master. I'm sorry, Master."

"Do you think this is funny?" His eyes darken and I swear he can read my thoughts.

"No, Master," I manage.

"Show Phil what you are, in case he forgot." Without releasing His grip on my hair, He turns me to face Phil. Phil's eyes hone in on my rack like two tractor beams. Master stands behind me, kicks my legs apart, and reaches around to pinch my nipples.

"Start rubbing that clit for Phil, slut."

"Yes, Master." I spread my smooth pussy lips and watch Phil's eyes glaze over as I go to task. My nipples respond to Master's fingers as He pinches a little harder. I moan and lean my head back against His chest, wanting His cock inside me. My clit throbs and my pussy aches. Phil groans, his tractor beams now focused on my busy fingers and pink pussy. Seeing another man so turned on by watching me in front of my Master makes me even hotter. My moans get louder and my whimpers become desperate little cries of need.

"Yeah, baby. That's it...make me cum." Phil's cock looks rock hard and ready to fire. A sudden image of safety glasses enters my mind. Who knows how long it's been since that thing's gone off.

The sensation of teeth on my earlobe returns my attention to my fast approaching orgasm. Master's tongue traces the contours of my ear. His words are hot whispers, commanding my immediate attention.

"You want to cum, don't you, my slut." Another nibble.

"Yes, Master." I writhe against Him, straining for release.

"You need to cum, don't you, my disobedient slut." This time a nip at my neck. My knees melt.

"Yes, Master. Very much." So close... One or two light touches will send me over the edge.

"Good girl. Now put your hands behind your head." Master leans toward Phil and says something I cannot hear.

Certain I have misheard Master's instruction or experienced a mini-stroke, I giggle and decide to ask for confirmation.

"Master, I think I misunderstood what You said. It sounded like You told me to put my hands behind my head."

"That's exactly what I said. Now do it, slut. And don't move until I tell you to."

Confused, I obey Master and lace my fingers behind my head. Wearing nothing more than my fabulous new boots and the black eyeliner across my girls, I can only hope that no one has reason to enter the closet. I doubt that Phil cares much, as he steps a little closer to me, stroking his cock at breakneck speed. With a growl that would make a lion proud, Phil cums like a springtime tornado. To my horror, I watch as he aims his cock at my feet and shoots hot semen all over my beautiful boots. I look to Master for help only to find Him smiling and looking rather pleased with Himself.

"Now, little one, are you going to shop without permission?"

"No, Master." Sigh.

"Are you going to exceed your spending allowance without permission?"

"No, Master." This sucks.

"Are you going to use my credit card without permission?"

"No, Master." I look down at my once-gorgeous boots and wish I had been able to weatherproof them before meeting Phil.

"Good girl. We'll discuss this more when we get home. Clean up and get dressed."

"Yes, Master."

Master and Phil say their goodbyes and step out of the closet. I grab a bottle of multipurpose cleaner and a wad of paper towels and get to work. I see that Master left His credit card on the shelf, beside my purse. I wonder what the exchange policy is at the shoe store. They did have some hot stripper heels...maybe in red this time.