Punished by My Neighbor 4-Book Box Set (6 page)

He crouched, avoiding eye contact. He trembled a little, and I wondered what he might expect of me next. My eyes roamed over his bare ass, blindingly white and skinny and I thought about how enjoyable it might be to redden it.

“I can see you won’t learn unless I take a firm hand. Do not move.” I brought my hand down hard against his bottom, and the sting was intense. How did Mr. Barrows manage to do this to me for hours?

Renewed admiration for my dear Mr. Barrows and his patience and strength swelled within me. Again and again I brought my hand down hard against Robert, the intoxicating slaps ringing through the air.

Red palm prints began to show up where I’d struck him and I persisted, determined to see his entire ass red and tender from my efforts.

He whimpered softly and that only stoked the fire I felt to punish him more. He’d been a very naughty, disrespectful fellow and he deserved this lesson I was teaching him. It gave me such a thrill to know that he was going to behave himself after this.

“You lied about being a virgin, didn’t you?”

His admission was muffled by his hands.

“What was that?” I asked as a fresh, stinging crack rang through the air.

“I lied about being a virgin,” he repeated clearly. And then more softly, “How did you know?”

“It was a bit like you were acting out various 5 minute porn clips,” I admitted, the dominant woman I was becoming sliping away for a moment.

He grunted. “But it was good, right? You came?”

My eyes roamed around the room looking for an appropriate tool to use instead of the palm of my wearying hand. He clearly needed a much firmer punishment than I'd given him so far.

I spotted a basket of magazines by the mid century modern couch and grabbed one with a naked woman on the cover. What kind of perv keeps his nudie mags in the living room? I made up my mind to deliver an extra smack or two for the creep factor of that. I rolled up the magazine, squishing the enhanced blond on the cover into a very powerful tool.

“I did not.” I said, bringing the magazine down against him with a crack.

He shrieked. “Fuck! That hurts.”

“You will take your punishment silently or it will take twice as long.” I cracked the magazine against his bottom again, and beautiful welts began to raise from the force of the pages. “You will learn to give me the pleasure I deserve as a woman. Your cock is insufficient for that,” I slammed the magazine against his upper thighs. “You will need to learn to use your tongue and fingers.”

“Insufficient? What the fuck are you talking about?” He blustered. “Compared to what? Those guys in the pornos? Everyone knows those cocks are fake. Mine’s average sized at worst.”

“Silence,” I commanded, pummeling him again and then again. He was clearly going to take an extra firm hand. Much firmer than I’d ever needed from Mr. Barrows. “If I say you are insufficient, you certainly don’t know better than I do.” I slammed the magazine against him three more times until the skin broke from my fury. I stopped when I’d drawn blood and took a moment to dress his wound.

“Now, lie on your back.”

“Do you have any idea how much that’ll hurt?” He asked, his bright blue eyes wide in fear. Delicious, delicious fear.

I raised one eyebrow but did not reply and he scrambled into position. “You have ten minutes to make me cum.” I brought my ass close to his face, barely hoovering above him, letting him smell my wet pussy and my musky, welcoming scent. I pressed my pussy hard against his lips, grinding myself against his face and he got to work, licking and tasting me, already moaning in enjoyment.

The man beneath me grunted and prodded me more deeply with his tongue with starving, powerful strokes. He was so desperate for my pussy and his desire was such a turn on. Grinding against his face gave me complete control over where he licked and how deeply his tongue pressed against me. I let him take more and more of my weight as the pleasure built in my core. My heart began to hammer in my chest, and my breath quickened.

My body clenched then, savoring every last lick, and I tried to sustain that moment just before the orgasm racked through me, that moment where everything feels possible, and my body floods with power. And then my breath came in fast pants, and my pussy spasmed with rich, throbbing pleasure. I eased away from him.

“That wasn’t the worst I’ve ever had,” I said, turning to face him.

His face was covered in my delicious juices and he was greedily licking as much off as he could. “That was amazing,” he cooed, in a bit of a stupor. “Thank you Mistress.”

I circled his teeny weeny cock with two fingers and locked my eyes on his. “It’s too bad we can’t ever do it again. I think you might actually get decent with some practice. Pity you lied to me. You’ll have to find yourself a new Mistress because you are never to contact me again.”

He blinked at me, not believing what I’d said. “But I love you. How am I supposed to find a new Mistress?”

“Online?”

He pouted a moment, his frustrated face slick with my juices. “But I love you.”

“And you’ll love your new Mistress just as much.” I could see that he needed more convincing. “But we can’t be together because you started our relationship with a lie. It wouldn’t be respectful of the dom/submissive relationship,” I said as if I had a clue what I was talking about. “You need to find a Mistress you can be honest with from the get go, understand?”

He nodded, looking a little hurt, but like he’d taken what I said seriously.

With that, I slapped him across the face one last time and said, “That’s for lying to me and making it so we can never be together again.” And then I stood and smoothed my skirt back into place over my voluptuous thighs. “I’ll miss punishing you.”

THE END

Emilee Taken by the Alpha Men in Uniforms Next Door

A MFM + M Alpha Menage

by Emilee Brown

Previously, I’ve revealed my first punishment at the hands of my much older neighbor, the man who’d lived next door for so many years. I shared the embarrassing fact that I’d made it all the way to age 19 untouched, and that Mr. Barrows took me with little concern for my innocent state. He punished me brutally for selling my panties, and to this day I’m grateful to him for it.

Then I shared the humiliating story of my time with another neighbor--this time a man closer to my own age who had a micro peen. It was mortifying to be so honest with you! But necessary because it played such a fundamental role in my becoming a dominatrix.

What I’ve already revealed, though, is no match for the story I’m about to tell. A story so taboo it makes me cringe to tell it. The thought of my Meemaw somehow getting her hands on this story! There is very little that makes my cheeks warm these days, but that... that definitely does.

My humiliating experience with the sissy neighbor who had a teenie weenie kept me from ever selling my panties again, which meant I couldn’t make rent at my luxury apartment building, which meant I had to move to a tiny studio. But what was interesting about the move wasn’t what caused it but rather the men who lived next door--three brutal alpha men in uniform I was about to meet...

-Emilee

I hauled the box full of books out of the trunk of my car, balancing it on a hip to get a better grip.

“You look like you could use a little help with that,” a man said, standing behind me. His voice was husky and gruff, and he sounded like he stood entirely too close.

I turned to face him, and my box slammed against his chest--he was entirely too close. My breath caught in my throat as I took him in, his tight black t-shirt clung to his well defined muscles, and droplets of water fell from his wet blond hair. He smelled like he’d just come out of a shower. I noticed the insignia of the local fire station emblazoned on his t-shirt and wondered if he was a fireman.

He reached his arms around my box, his hand brushing against my breast in a manner that didn’t feel entirely accidental. Then again the girls are often quite in the way, so it was hard to say for sure. But whether it was intentional or not, the brief brush of his hand against my flesh sent a thrill racing up my spine.

“I’ve got it,” he said, his thick, throaty voice wrapping around me like a blanket. I admired his milky white skin against the maple colored cardboard.

“Thank you,” I demurred.

His gaze dropped to the deep v of my t-shirt and he smiled appreciatively before meeting my eye again. “My pleasure,” he replied.

I grabbed another--lighter--box from the passenger seat and led him up the four flights of stairs to my new studio apartment. He followed me in, waiting for direction on where to put his box. I enjoyed making him wait--he’d shown no strain from hauling the heavy box up the stairs for me. The man clearly had stamina.

“You can just put that anywhere,” I said at last. He nodded, letting his gaze trace over the curve of my hips. I felt a little self-conscious under his scrutiny, especially since I wore my grubbiest clothes for the labor of moving, but everything about his gaze said that he approved of what he saw. “Can I get you a drink?”

He grinned, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you make up a pitcher of sweet tea and I’ll get my buddies to help me bring up the rest of your stuff.”

Anything sounded better than climbing those endless stairs with all my crap, even if my sweet tea making skills were... not great. I hoped they’d be so hot from climbing all those stairs all they’d really notice was that it was cold and nodded in agreement.

He sauntered from the room, giving me ample time to admire his ass in those jeans that suited him perfectly, and I rummaged through the box on the kitchen counter, looking for supplies to make tea. But, though the box was kitchen stuff, it was mostly pots. Instead, I decided to resort to the universal “thanks for helping me move” and ordered pizza on my phone. Of course, I’d put the beer in the fridge first thing, so I trusted that that would be ice cold when the men were ready for it, and started unpacking the box on the counter.

I’d just tucked away the last pot when three boisterous voices bounced up the stairs. I swallowed, ready to get a glimpse of my new neighbors.

Now, I feel like it’s only fair to take a brief sidebar to explain something. You see, after things had gone in such a dark, humiliating direction with my neighbor with the tiny member, I’d sworn off men. I’m sure you understand how easy it can be to feel like your man-picker must be broken. Sure, I’d gotten incredibly lucky with the older Mr. Barrows with his firm hand and firmer... ahem. But Mr. Teenie Weenie? That had been mortifying.

I hadn’t been with a man since. And that was starting to feel like torture. Not that I wasn’t perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. But Mr. Barrows had taught me there’s absolutely nothing that compares to the weight of a man on top of you, devouring you with his eyes and his tongue, filling you mercilessly.

What I’m trying to say is that I wasn’t entirely in my right mind when what happened next, happened next.

The three roommates strode in to my apartment--there was the tall blond, Bren, who I’d already met. And then there was the mischievous red-head, Ruff, who’s face and bare arms were splattered with so many freckles I couldn’t help but wonder what his cock might look like—was it covered in freckles too? He was more muscular than Bren, but a few inches shorter. Finally, the ebony-haired Elliot, whose black hair grazed his shoulders, and who stood a smidgen taller than either of the two other men, and had that long, lithe physique of an artist. Both Ruff and Elliot wore navy blue firemen's uniforms embellished with impressive insignias and badges.

Bren introduced us all and in turn they each took my hand warmly. Elliot added in a quick peck on each cheek and a muttered, “Bella,” with a distinctly Italian accent though I hadn’t noticed that when he’d spoken before.

“She’s promised to make us sweet tea,” Bren said, with a dangerous wink thrown in my direction.

“I do love sweet tea,” Ruff said, his voice dripping with the kind of sass that would now send him straight to my punishment room, but that day made me squirm from a sudden wetness.

I was still standing in the kitchen, the peninsula between us. I discretely gave my pussy a quick press against the counter top, trying to relieve some of the swelling pressure there. Bren licked his lips and I realized I hadn’t been as discrete as I wanted to be, and the pressure became a dull throb.

Bren crossed the room and cupped my chin in his hand. His warmth seeped into my skin and I ached for him to kiss me. “We’ll take care of you later,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“With pleasure,” Ruff said, his own voice gravely serious now in a way that I could tell wasn’t normal for him. Elliot’s only response was a ravenous, wicked smile and with that the three men ducked out of the apartment to gather their next load of boxes.

Alone, I groped in the freezer for an ice cube and ran it along the back of my neck and into the valley between my breasts. I could tell my days of celibacy were about to come to an end.