Mrs. Polk was just about at her wits' end. Thank God her daughter's 14th birthday party was winding down, or she'd just have to run away, or yell 'FIRE!" or something. I mean, the girls were, for the most part, just being girls -- squealing and clucking, and yapping on about this boy, and that shoe, and this girl. . .
But it was the dark one, that Mina girl, who was the troublemaker. What was she, Pakistani, or Indian? Some country like that, but SUCH a little brat! And she had, it seemed, and unfortunately for Mrs. Polk, charisma. There was something about this little dark-skinned princess that all her playmates, Chrissy Polk included, paid attention to. And most of it was not nice.
She had a haughty air about her, did this Mina girl, as if all the adults were there to serve her, and all the children to entertain. And the rest of the children followed her lead, which made things that much more difficult. Before Mina arrived (late, of course), the girls were invariably polite, helpful even, putting out trays and drinks, setting accessories. . .
Then Miss RajaMina shows up, making this big show of getting out of her Limo (Daddy didn't want her taking a common Taxi!), so of course all the girls had to run out and cluck like little gushing geese, and Mina (MINAKSHI, darling) just ate it up, and entered the house with what had now become Her Entourage. And whenever the conversation began to veer toward the nice, friendly, and munDANE, Lady Minakshi would throw in a withering bon mot and keep the party hers.
One instance in particular that infuriated Mrs. Polk and led her to determine a very new, risky, and intriguing course of action, came about when Mrs. Polk made her entrance with the birthday cake. Just as the last notes of "Happy Birthday' were dying away, and Chrissy stood poised to blow out her candles, Mina's very distinct, metropolitan whine filled the room: "Ohh, my God, it's not one of those disgusting homemade thingies, is it? Oh BARF!" Nervous giggling from the girls. Then: "It's like everything else in this little Barbie-party-- plastic cups, paper plates -- God, Chrissy, while you're at it, whyn't you wish for a REAL birthday party for your 15th, how 'bout?" Sneers all around.
And for the nail in the coffin, Chrissy had looked up at her mother and mouthed angrily, "Thanks a LOT!"
The thing that brought Mrs. Polk to actually consider putting her wild scheme into action was the miscommunication that had occurred between the Polk and Raman (Mina's family) households. Initially, Chrissy's party was going to be an all-night festival, with all her friends spending the night. But then quite a few of those friends had had to bow out, and Chrissy herself had decided to go to the movies instead, so the invites had changed. For everyone but Mina.
The fact was that the Ramans, with their secretaries and butlers and valets and such, had lost Mina's plans in the shuffle, so everyone there thought she was spending the night at the Polks'. And Mrs. Polk had only discovered this when she'd seen Mina's overnight bag; no one else was aware of the mix-up. She'd thought to explain the miscue, until the girl's behavior gave her another plan. . .
So now, when everyone made a beeline for the family room where all the gifts lay waiting to be opened and oohed on, Mrs. Polk held Mina back. To the girl's impatiently snapped, "What?!", Mrs. Polk took her eagerly by the hand and led her upstairs.
"I've just GOT to show you this. Only someone with your sense of style would appreciate this." Which quieted the girl somewhat. The older woman led Mina up another set of stairs, to a studio of a sort, in what seemed to be a converted attic. It was actually a sound studio that her husband had built years ago when his music engineering business was starting. It was large, carpeted -- and totally soundproof. And when the place had been in use, a lot of expensive equipment lived there. So there was a nice trusty lock on the door.
Mrs. Polk brought her daughter's friend here, and showed her inside, into the inner room where recordings were made. As Mina looked around at the padded tiles, Mrs. Polk stood at the door and, smiling, said, "I'll see you tonight." Then she walked out and locked this door, then the outer door, behind her. She stood for a moment, listening. Nothing. By now, Mina would be pounding on the inner door. Yes, she would. But no sound emerged. Mrs. Polk smiled, sighed, and descended the stairs to the party.
She stood on the fringe of the group inside the family room. Everyone was hooting at the risque bathing suit Chrissy'd just opened. "Where's Mina?" Someone asked.
Mrs. Polk told them all how her driver had come around back to pick her up. Apparently her father had wanted her home, some family thing about their country. Which wasn't all that unusual for Mina, as she DID come from a politically powerful family in India, and she seemed to be always coming and going. So the girls all went on with their fun. . .
A little time later, they were all saying their goodbyes, and thank-you's, and getting in parents' cars. Chrissy gave her Mom a big hug, and ran to join her friends for the movie that night. Mrs. Polk, as a special present, had stretched her curfew to midnight tonight, and the girl was excited to begin.
Ahh, silence. And such an intriguing, indeed sexy kind of silence it was. Because the awareness of little Princess Mina in the house "against her Will" gave Mrs. Polk a special feeling of power, and of lust. Time to teach this one a lesson. Yes.
She'd never done this, but, ohh, she'd fantasized about it. As one who worked in the local Junior High School's administration office, she'd seen quite a number of just-plain-spoiled little girls. They'd flounce in, all surly and defiant, blowing their bubbles and twirling their locks. Some wore clothes that just begged to be ripped off of them: skirts up to their bottoms, bare midriff tops with no bra. No panties!
And Mrs. Polk had discovered one day to her surprise that musing on these girls' various punishment requirements aroused her! She remembered one day in particular, in her first year, when one of the more attractive, and more hell-raising, girls was brought in on suspension terms. Mrs. Polk had stood behind the counter filling out the various forms, while the girl,(Flossie, of all names!)in her pink hair and black miniskirt, had leaned over a bench and yapped away on her cellphone. With her back to Mrs. Polk, the girl had (knowingly, unknowingly?) revealed most of the bottom half of her thonged rear end! And Mrs. Polk, heart beating wildly, had had to walk briskly to the bathroom to relieve herself at that very moment. The image of her hand on a penitent Flossie's deserving rear just drove her right. . .off. . .the edge. The force with which she orgasmed in the bathroom that day formed in Mrs. Polk a new hobby, one that took up more and more of her daydream time.
A few months later, she'd gone so far as to buy a few. . .items at a shop for naughty things she'd seen in a nearby town. Every once in awhile when she had the time to herself, she'd take her toys out and pretend. Her little playlets never failed to bring her to a groaning climax.
And now she looked up at the stairs, and felt lightheaded. Imagine, a Real Punishing. She put a hand on the banister, closed her eyes, and touched herself over her khaki slacks. "Ohhhh. . ." She almost passed out, the anticipation was so delicious. She thought of Mina's words at the party, and her renewed anger cleared her head and drove her up the stairs.
In her bedroom, way back in her own walk-in closet, she took down an old dress box. She laid it on the bed, and removed the lid. Now, her costume gets to play! She felt so good for the black, sheer things. Resisting the powerful urge to masturbate immediately, she scrambled out of her own suburban Mom garb, and became Mistress.
Mina was furious, and just beginning to get a little nervous. How dare this woman? Did she know who Mina was? Who her family was? She looked forward to letting this strange, stupid woman know what hell she'd unleashed on herself. And just when she'd stopped banging on the door, and had resigned herself to a surly sit, she heard the outer door open. She stood up, indignant. The lights in her inner room dimmed. "What the fuck do you think you are doing??!" she yelled. She saw just dimly through the studio window a shadowy figure, working at the board. Now red light began to come up, from somewhere above, or below, she couldn't see where. But this was getting really strange. Fucking bitch. "I mean it, you are in so much trouble, you know??"
The door opened quickly, and closed quick. And there stood a woman in a black trenchcoat. It was Mrs. Polk. She thought. But she held something. A rope, it looked like. And something else.
Mina didn't care. She had had it. She moved toward the figure. "Listen, bitch, I can't believe you would ---"
A shockingly hard SLAP across her face sent her reeling backwards, almost knocking her down. Tears sprang to her eyes. "OWww!" Despite her fury, Mina found herself starting to cry. "What the fuck? How could you --" as she saw the lightning-fast strike come again, "No, NO, STOP!!" "SMACK!!" And this time she was knocked to the floor. She looked up. Through her tears, she saw Mrs. Polk standing over her, a slight smile on her face. Oh my God, this woman is crazy. Mina began to feel real fear. She stammered, feeling herself beginning to sob.
Mrs. Polk looked down at the little princess; her Marc Jacobs skirt was bunched up at her waist on the floor. In the reddish light, the contrast between Mina's light panties and her dark skin was striking. Mrs. Polk spoke in a low, calm tone. "Do you understand why you're being punished?"
Mina gasped a bit, haltingly, through her furious tears. "W-wait, wait. . .I j-just want to. . ."
Something snapped downwards onto her thigh, and stung. "OWW!!" She began to really cry. "Wh-what was tha-a-at?"
"I said: Do you understand why you are being punished?"
"Y-you're crazy, you fucking --" "thhhWACK!!" "OOOWWwwww, huhh-huhhh, pleeease, oh my God, please, why are you---" "thhhhWACK!!" "Waaaahhh!!! Ohmy God, HELP!! HEEEELPP!!!"
Mrs. Polk stood over the pathetic girl and let her wail for awhile. In a lull, she spoke again, calmly: "Obviously, no one can hear you. There's no one here except us." She listened to Mina's sobbing and chatter-gasping. She leaned down. Mina, terrified, leaned back, eyes wide. "Now. I'm going to ask you again. And I will keep asking you, and keep whipping you, until you answer. Understood?"
Mina sat, shaking. Mrs. Polk raised the whip slightly. "Yes! Yes, I understand!"
"Good. Again: Do you understand why you are being punished?"
Mina, her mouth trembling, tears streaming, shook her head.
A pause. "I thought not." Mrs. Polk stood back up. Mina saw that below the coat the woman wore tall, shiny black boots.
Mrs. Polk took a step back. "Stand." Mina did, trembling. "Strip."
A chill went through Mina. "Please. . ." "thhhhhWACK!!" "Owwwmy God, alright, alright, oh my God oh my God. . ." and she began shakily to unbutton her blouse.
Mrs. Polk stood quietly and watched. Such a white white little bra. She watched Mina toss the expensive blouse aside. The look of terror on the girl's face was very arousing. Mina stood for a moment, then hurriedly began to unbutton the fashionable suede skirt. It dropped to her feet, and Mrs. Polk was mildly surprised to see how dowdy-looking the girl's panties were. No thong here. A wealthy man's daughter, never to be sullied until the marriage was arranged. Well, thought Mrs. Polk. It's sullying time.
Now Mina stood, wide-eyed, in bra and panties, and little black-leather shoes. Her sophisticated sheen was gone; all that stood before Mrs. Polk at the moment was a scared, half-naked fourteen-year-old Indian girl.
"Go on."
Mina stammered, blushing. "Please, I ---"
Mrs. Polk was in her face in a flash. She grabbed the girl's cheeks with one hand, squashing her mouth in on itself.
"OHhh!" Mina's eyes bulged in terror.
"How many times do I have to tell you something??" Mrs. Polk's whip handle wiggled itself into the space between Mina's thighs and pushed up into her crotch. A muffled squeak from the girl. "I told you to strip. Do it!" the woman hissed.
Then, just as quickly, she stood back to watch.
Mina, weeping with terror, brought shaky little hands to her bra. She unclipped it in front, and revealed two very small, dark-nippled breasts. The nipples were quite erect, and quite large.
Mrs. Polk stepped closer again. Mina started, and peed herself. She stood, miserable and terrified, as Mrs. Polk watched the pee trickle silently down the girl's inner thigh. Her waist-high panties stained low, the darkness barely visible.
A low, amused voice: "Well, you won't want to be wearing these now anyway," and Mrs. Polk herself took hold of the panties and pulled down, down, until they were at the girl's feet. "Step out," and Mina did so.
Mrs. Polk stepped back again, and looked at her plaything. Mina stood naked but for shoes, a slight shine on her thighs. Her pudendum was hairless, a deep groove running down, and a lip peeking out.
The woman removed her coat and tossed it on the arm of a nearby couch. Mina's eyes grew even wider, her terror more pronounced. For Mrs. Polk was dressed to kill, with leather and lace, and crotchless black and nipple-less shine. And boots to her thighs. She stepped towards Mina, who cringed. The woman raised a gloved hand and took one of the girl's nipples between her fingers. And squeezed.
"Owww, pleeeease, oww, that hurts. . ."
"MMmmm, I know. . ." she stopped. "Go lean over that couch there."
"B-but--" "SLAP!! went Mrs. Polk's hand on her bare bottom.
"But?? Want another here?" Mina scurried over to the couch. She stood against it. Mrs. Polk went to her and roughly leaned her over the back, so her head touched the seat cushions. She stood back to admire. A pretty little brown bottom, small, pert, pampered. . .
"shhhh-WACK!!"
"OWWWww, God, please. . ." came the muffled, cushion cry.
"shhhhhh-WACKK!!" Ooh, the whip made a nice mark on that one. Wait, I want to feel this. . .
"shMACK!!"
"Mmmmmmohh, please, ow, owww. . ."
"shMACK!!" Oh, Mrs. Polk loved, LOVED the feel of the spoiled little girl's soft, smarting bottom against her hand. "Do you understand that you were a very bad bad girl??" Mrs. Polk hissed.
"Yesss, ohhh, yess, I'm sorry, please --"
"shMACK!!" "Ohh yes, you ARE sorry, I know--" "shMACK!!" "Sorry how disGUSTing my birthday cake was??" "shMACK!!" "All those plastic cups and forks??" "shMACK!!"
"I'm sorry!! Ohh, I'm soo sorry. . ." Mina's brown little bottom was twisting and squeezing, pulsing in and out with each spank. Mrs. Polk noticed to her enjoyment that Mina's little asshole, when it winked into view, was an adorable and lively little thing. Pooching and pouting with each attack.
"Alright," as the woman put a hand on the girl's bottom. "Alright, Mina." She stroked, soothing the reddened skin. Mina wept into the cushions. Mrs. Polk spoke soothingly. "Sssh, alright, Mina, it's alright." She removed her glove and circled the girl's anus. She licked her finger and circled again. Mina's bottom began tightening around it.
"Mina? Now, you don't want more spanks, do you?" The girl's bottom relaxed. "Open you legs more, Mina." The thin legs spread wider. Mrs. Polk took a handful of each cheek and spread. The pretty anus blinked in the light. "Such a pretty asshole. Did you know you had such a pretty asshole Mina?"
Muffled tiny voice. "No. . .I. . .didn't. Miss."
"Mistress, Mina. You call me Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good." Mrs. Polk took her forefinger, licked it, and drove it into the girl's bottom, up to her second knuckle.
"Unghh. . .ungHHHH!!"
"There. I have my finger in your ass now, Mina. Do you feel it?"
"Y-yes. . Mistress." She wiggled it around inside.
"Ooogh, ngg,ngggG!"
"Feel that?"
"YesMistress!"
"Mmm, I bet you do. . ." Mrs. Polk also noticed that the moisture on Mina's naked little pussy lips was no longer just pee. She pushed apart the girl's thighs even more and leaned in. Her lips touched Mina's pussy lips.
"Oh! M-mistress!"
""Yeth, Mina. . .mmmmnnnn. . .tayshtsh goood, mmmnnnnnn. . ."
"Ohh. . . .mmm. . ."
Wonderful taste, just wonderful. Mrs. Polk came up, and stood back. "Stand up."
Mina slowly straightened. Her face was flushed, her expression strange and unreadable.
"Lick my boots, Mina."
The expression on Mina's face changed, but it was still quite strange: a mix of shame, of pain, of desire? Of wonder? She knelt and leaned her face down. Her well-coiffed teeny hairdo looked wrong in this present setting.
And Mrs. Polk saw that the girl was not slacking on this task. Indeed, she could hear the slurping at her feet, the little grunts and moans. Hmm.
"Get up." Mina did. She seemed to hide a perverse grin?
Mrs. Polk looked into Mina's eyes. "You are understanding, aren't you, Mina?"
The little girl blushed, looked down, but answered: "I'm. . .I'm thinking so, Mistress."
Mrs. Polk reached down and unzipped a boot. She saw a gleam in Mina's eye. And Mina caught that Mrs. Polk saw it. Mina's lower lip trembled.
"Mina?"
"Y-yes, Mistress?"
"Do you want to suck on my toes?"
The look of strange joy that lit the girl's face made Mrs. Polk smile, and realize that this, all of this, had been a divinely inspired idea. She blessed her fate.
Mrs. Polk walked around to the front of the couch and lay down. She lifted her foot. "Here."
And little naked Mina, still red from her spanking, went meekly to the foot of the couch and tenderly, gently took hold of her Mistress's foot in her small hands. The feet were so large, and long, and elegant. Such smoothness, such expressive toes. . .Mina hesitantly, breathlessly, leaned in to touch her lips to the darling big toe. She did. Mrs. Polk leaned back and smiled. Mina opened her mouth and encompassed the whole toe, then closed her warm mouth over it. Such warm pungent odor, such strength of texture. . . she began to suck, in. and out. Faster, and faster. And Mrs. Polk sighed, and moaned lightly. Mina smelled her sex. And little Mina felt her own self coming to a strange and wonderful climax, glowing, glowing. . .