Spank Me Hard! … Please?

There is something obscene about the modern meeting; the bribes of artery clogging pastries and bitter office coffee calculated to stupefy the unwilling participants with an overload of surgery carbohydrates and caffeine.

What a fucking waste of time!
Veronica tried to keep her temper from unleashing her tongue, but if she was late one more time, her ass would be as red as the raspberry filling in the glazed donuts. Her eyes glazed as her boss droned on about policies and figures that were accessible with a swipe of the touch-pad to every single person in the building!
The only reason we’re cooped up in here is because certain assholes can’t stay off Facebook for more than a few minutes!

“What’s the matter, Roni, got ants in your pants?”

Speaking of assholes!
She glared at the cretin to her left. She’d file a sexual harassment complaint with HR against George, but even a third-grader could tell he wasn’t malicious, simply too imbecilic to realize he was offensive. Not deigning to respond, she checked her watch; covering the movement with a scratch of her scalp.
Five-fucking-thirty. I am so fucked.

The unproductive meeting broke up fifteen minutes later and Veronica scurried out before anyone else could latch onto her—”Doing anything this Friday night?”—except George. “Yes. I have a boyfriend,—A Master actually—as I’ve told you a jillian times before. Goodnight.”

Although the club was only thirty minutes away, she had promised to be there by five and it was now pushing six-thirty. Nearly careening on two wheels, she skidded to a stop and jumped out of her car. Nodding at the bouncer, she slipped inside and ran downstairs into the dungeon. Out of breath and out of time, her eyes sought her Master, but instead, saw twenty people all sitting and quietly chatting in a half-circle around the stage.

None of them looked over their shoulders as she walked, heels tapping loudly on the tile, towards the object in the spotlight.
This was supposed to be private!
All thoughts vanished when He stepped out from behind the curtain. Veronica’s mouth went dry as her pussy flooded. His chest and torso were bare and gleaming with oil. Leather cuffs with steel spikes encircled his wrists. Leather pants with a codpiece made of crisscrossing thongs highlighted the bulging muscles. Boots clicked.

She dared to meet his gaze, and instantly wished she’d not been so bold.

THWACK!

The sound of the leather flogger striking the leather horse ricocheted around the room. All conversations ceased. Veronica flinched.

The man spoke. “We are gathered here tonight in judgement of the slave, formally known as Veronica. As was witnessed at our last session, she swore an oath, in her own words, ‘I will be on-time or I pledge to accept whatever punishment my Master deems suitable.’ What time is it slave?”

Veronica mumbled, “Six-thirty pm, Sir.”

“How late are you for this meeting?”

“An hour and a half, Sir!”

“Did you not request an absence from work as ordered?”

“No, Sir, I did not.”

The man turned to the members. “Fellow practitioners of the arcane art of discipline, how do you vote? Shall my slave be punished for disobedience?”

Veronica watched as all twenty of her friends slowly, and emphatically turned thumbs down towards her. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and bowed in acceptance to her sentence. The group rose and gently, yet firmly, took turns stripping her naked, then picked her up bodily, and tightly secured her arms and legs, leaving her face-down over the padded horse. A gag went between her lips and a blindfold over her eyes.

“Let all observe the punishment of ninety blows by this flogger. One for each minute late.”

The tears were already flowing behind her blindfold. Not with pain, but with shame. She had brought this on herself, this naked public display where previously she’d remained covered. Too shy to fully participate, she had goaded her Master into taking away her choice. She thought of what the others could now see, and despite the constraining ropes, she shuddered with a mini-orgasm. That too, was shameful, and the knowledge fueled her arousal. Even more so when He spoke: “I told you my slave was a slut. Look at her gushing already. I bet she’ll come at least three more times while I’m whipping her. She loves pain but is so ashamed of her wantonness.”

The flogger whistled through the air and lashed Veronica’s pristine bottom, the thongs splaying out to cover the fullness of needy flesh.

“Isn’t that right, slave? Pain makes you come.”

The appreciative, and discerning audience, sat back down and listened as her Master brought Veronica higher and higher to crest the climatic peak, then ease back, only to drive her up again to her increasingly wet culmination. The bottom and thighs became redder and redder while the muffled squeals rose in pitch with each hard strike. By the time the full allotment of ninety was given over a period of thirty minutes, Veronica had come a total of five times.

She wasn’t aware at first the punishment was over, until nimble fingers unbuckled straps and she felt His arms lift her limp form to his hot chest. She sensed him walking away as her friend’s conversations grew dimmer and then ceased at the sound of a door closing. With only her hearing as a guide, the creak of his leather pants as he sat down seemed overly loud. She could feel his large erection beneath her sore bottom as he cuddled her in the circle of his slick arms.

“You have pleased me, slave, with your submission and passion. Your Master is proud of your willingness. Was this fantasy all that you expected?”

Still gagged, Veronica pressed her check to his sweaty chest, gripped his torso as tight as she could, and nodded several times.

“Good. Then next time, I will fuck you in front of them as well.”

Veronica mewled and felt another orgasm rise.