Chapter 25Punishment

There was a lot about this woman I had yet to learn. But for now I knew sufficient to keep myself sane and safe. But, there was also still the matter of her having spied on me, stalking me for quite a while and, as such, deserved some kind of punishment. It wasn't quite clear to me how that was going to be, but it would be something glorious. It already occurred to me that she had little to no limits to my desires. She feared not my knives nor my teeth. For a moment I even wondered if she would commit suicide if I were to order it. A bizarre and dark thought, though no darker than many of the others in my mind. It even scared me for a moment.

This, in turn, surprised me.

Was I becoming sentimental? Already clinging to this curious creature? It had been a lifetime since I last had a normal friend. With work and my strange salacious sexuality, it was not exactly easy to maintain anything remotely like friendship. There was a large part in my life that I could not let people be part of. So I didn't. It was easier to push them away, not out of fear of commitment but out of fear of jail, public disgrace and no way to satisfy my urges.

This bond with Alex meant risking it all. Though if things went horribly wrong she would go down with me, her already being an accomplice and would, if my judgement was right, never let me be taken on my own. But all these thoughts were background noise to what was really important; The woman standing in front of me, impeccably dressed and with a demeanor that would imply a collar around her neck. Food for thought. Instead of a skirt like before, she wore a lovely simple dress that showed her figure without being too revealing. She must have noticed that I liked that in girls, the teasing display of something but far from giving away everything. Her lips tinted by a little gloss, her hair pulled back.

She needed a wig

We took our time choosing a one for her. She felt innately guilty for having to use one of mine, next to the excitement of wearing my hair, as it did not become a slave to be unprepared. She openly admitted to insecurity she felt of me even wanting her, the fear of being rejected. It was obvious it wouldn't be easy for her to accept things as they are, but she coped as well as she could. We chose the wig I had used before while she was stalking me. It looked good on her and the knowledge of having seen me in it before made her stronger, more assured of herself.

My handbag, this time, was curiously empty. Alex had left everything at my house, which included her wallet and passport. She wanted to display, in every way that she could, that she was mine. All that remained for me was to find a punishment. Part of me, though I wasn't sure which, was keenly aware of the importance of punishments. A lot of this information were tidbits I picked up when I tried to be a mistress in that bar, which, like most things, had never truly faded from my mind. Punishment showed the slave, the owned one, that it was being owned. That actions had tangible consequences. The simple world of a slave all came down to the clarity of commands and obedience. And the punishment for disobedience.

I just wasn't quite sure how yet.

The ride to another town was quiet. She didn't speak to me unless spoken to (or allowed to speak) and I was deep in thought. Improvisation was something I did well when needed, but I really wanted to have some kind of idea of what I was going to do with her. It shouldn't be something physically hurting, or something she would enjoy. A careful balance between a tease and too far. Before we reached our destination, an inkling of a plan had already started brewing in my mind. There was something she wanted to do and, hoping she felt some form of jealousy, there would be a way to use that.

I did so enjoy a challenge.

For her there was another challenge. After a small walk from my car, we arrived in a fairly crowded discotheque. Ages ranged on the lower end of the spectrum, starting around sixteen perhaps and up to twenty-something. My looks made me appear somewhere in between a mother and a child. A few of the girls looked at me, tons of the boys did too. I had spent careful effort on my outfit tonight, making sure I looked strict, harsh and controlling. It was intentional, to make boys too afraid to even talk to me. Today I would put my little toy to the test. Instructions she eagerly followed.

To find a virgin boy and bring him to me, without touching or kissing him intentionally.

There was no doubt that I would know if she had tried to do anything to him. Neither was there much worry about her intentions. Her full pleasure was in serving me, not playing hide-and-seek with tongues in a stranger's mouth. There were plenty of other girls (and boys) already into that. Speaking of boys, it was subtle, at first, but there appeared to be a fair share of homosexual couples present. As this was a 'gay friendly' club, that wasn't so surprising, but it caught me slightly off-guard. It was a very pleasurable sight, a wonderful tease to see them all comfortable with each other, kissing and caressing. They mostly hid it away from the rest, but anyone with open eyes could spot them. Not many lesbian couples that I could see, which was odd, but plenty of straights.

And Alex had found a wonderful boy.

A half-breed Italian, with curly, completely black hair and large hazel eyes. I estimated him at about 19 years old. His looks weren't too bad either, decent built, though very slim. At a guess he didn't have much to offer in bed, but that wasn't required. He would do fine for my little experiment. And so far, it looked like Alex was very interested to keep looking, exactly how I wanted it.

Her interest, at least.

She was quite surprised when I asked her to look away, but obeyed. She was to stand with her back towards us, not looking but knowing that I was going to do erotic things with the poor boy (who, incidentally, was visually starting to realize he was in way over his head but too scared to run away). The whole idea of the punishment, as Alex would soon realize, was to know that I was being intimate with someone and her very, very close but unable to watch. I tried to make sure that there were no obvious reflective surfaces nearby that she could use, nor could she in any other way know what was going to happen. Too much noise, smells and distractions to focus on anything specific without looking at it. Possibly one of the worst punishments this little stalker could get.

The boy was quite tasty too. He didn't smoke and the last few things he had drunk were sweet. Just some rum and cola I presumed. It was so much fun to toy with his innocent little mind, to kiss him and feel his body. His hands even tried to caress my body, but I didn't let them touch anything but my back. My own hands were a little more liberal in exploring, flowing over his chest, stomach and hips. He wasn't a bad kisser, actually, moving his tongue around with the sweet mixed taste of drinks. His manhood was, however, severely disappointing, so it didn't take long for me to be bored and send him away.

Alex, being the good girl that she should be, did not turn around when she saw the boy walk by. His red cheeks, a flustered expression and him hiding an erection possibly even made her giggle. She waited with the appearance of patience and a small amount of fidgeting, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. Not enough to please herself, but just, barely, enough to ease her mind. It had been a punishment, and a very apt one. The first time we were together and I had prevented her from watching.

She was so happy when I allowed her to turn around and kiss my lips once to taste him. The few words I used to explain the reason for my actions to her were easily understood. She promised never to spy on me without my knowledge. Tears did well up in her eyes for a moment, but this wasn't the time. She could always apologize properly later, when there was less to be hunted and more to be enjoyed.