Sassy Bitch

[F/fm] [judicial spanking] [public humiliation] [jail] [punishment] [bondage] [lezdom] [femdom]

Continued from: Judge, Jury and Executioner

Ugh, as soon as those belts and padlocks come off, my legs are all wobbly, like I just ran a marathon on my tip toes, and my ass is throbbing this deep, fiery burn that’s gonna stick around for days—hell, probably a week like Andrea said. I’m still sniffling, wiping snot and tears off my face with the back of my hand, feeling that mix of raw and relieved, like the guilt from that stupid Porsche night finally got smacked out of me. But no time to bask; Andrea’s all business, helping me down and slipping me back into that godawful orange prison smock, the one with the back flapping open like it’s daring a breeze to expose me more. And those "court-ordered" panties? Still these baggy white cotton monstrosities, scratching against my sore skin. She snaps the shackles back on my wrists and ankles—cold metal biting in again, short chains making me shuffle like a total loser—and leads me out, her hand firm on my arm.

We pass by that guy’s cell, the one with the chastity cage, and oh man, Andrea’s doing it on purpose, walking me deliberately slow so he gets a full view. He’s naked in there, all hunched and pathetic, that stainless steel cage locked around his shriveled dick, padlock swinging like a reminder of who’s boss. He must’ve heard every smack of my 28.5 minutes—the whirs, the thwacks, my cries and whimpers echoing down the hall—and now he’s seeing the aftermath, my bum peeking out from the open smock, all red and glowing. His eyes widen, and suddenly he’s renewing his sobbing, these high-pitched whines like a little girl who dropped her ice cream. It’s kinda pitiful, but hot in a twisted way—I wonder if his dick tried to get hard in that cage while he listened to my hot little ass getting paddled, straining against the metal, denied even that. Bet it hurt, poor guy, all emasculated and frustrated.

Andrea doesn’t miss a beat, her voice cool and commanding as she locks me back in my cell. “Your second hour of incarceration begins now, Alexis.” The door clangs shut, padlock clicking, and I’m alone again—with just a thin pillow on the bench and that open toilet staring at me like it’s judging. I plop down gingerly, wincing as my sore cheeks hit the cold steel, and cry a little more, these soft, hiccuppy sobs that shake my whole body. The sting’s intense, radiating heat, so I try to rub it away through the granny panties, twisting awkwardly with the shackles, but it just makes me more aware of how red and sensitive everything is now that the numbness wore off. Finally, I rest my head on the pillow, curling up as best I can, letting the exhaustion wash over me, that post-spanking haze where remorse feels cleansed but the burn keeps the lesson fresh.

Time drags, but then I hear footsteps—Andrea’s heels clicking—and the guy’s cell door opening. I sneak a peek through my bars, curiosity winning over the ache. There he is, being led out, now stuffed into his own “court-ordered” panties: this hot pink lace thong that rides way up his ass, the fabric all wedgie-style, emasculating him even further, like he’s a sissy doll instead of a grown man. His cage is still on, bulging awkwardly under the lace, and he’s sniffling, tears streaming. Andrea’s towing him along, smirking as she asks, “Are you going to continue sobbing like a little girl?” He mumbles something pathetic, and I can’t help but chuckle inside, this quiet little laugh bubbling up despite my own soreness. 

God, I’m so in awe of her—this remarkable woman, wielding control like it’s effortless, turning big strong guys into crying messes. 

It’s empowering, sexy as hell, and yeah, that arousal creeps back in, uninvited but insistent, wetting those big gross cotton panties shamefully, a slick warmth between my thighs. I’d masturbate right here in the cell if I knew I wouldn’t get caught, fingers slipping under the waistband, replaying every smack of the machine in my mind, building to a quick, guilty release. Guess I’ll save it for later tonight, at home in bed, maybe standing in front of the mirror to check out my red ass while I work over my clit, chasing that shattering orgasm that’ll mix the pain with the pleasure.

The hour passes dreadfully slow, every minute stretching like taffy, half of it spent listening to the pantied man getting his turn on the spanking machine—whirs and smacks echoing, his cries louder than mine, all girly and broken. I overhear Andrea reminding him of his sentence: not just the machine, but 45 days in chastity, locked up and denied, no relief in sight. Damn, that’s intense—makes my 28.5 minutes feel like a warmup. But finally, it’s over for me; Andrea unlocks my cell, helps me out of the smock and panties, back into my cute little navy A-line dress I arrived in, the fabric brushing my sore skin like a tease. No hosiery or heels yet—wait, she hands me my Loubies, and I slip them on, wincing as I stand. I’m feeling sore as hell, emotionally drained like I ran an emotional marathon, but completely free, absolved, lighter and more giddy than I’ve felt in weeks. That guilt? Gone, smacked clean away.

I can’t help it—I wrap my arms around Andrea, pulling her into a tight hug, whispering, “Thank you, so much… for everything.” And then, bold little brat that I am, I pull her in for a kiss right on the lips, brazen and wild, my heart racing like it’s another kind of punishment. She returns it, oh god, she does—her lips soft but firm, that passion sparking between us, developing into something electric, lingering just a second too long. Who knows what that’ll lead to? But right now, I’m walking out sore, satisfied, and scheming for more...unless. Maybe I'll try something that could get me punished.

Wish me luck, again...FFS. This could go either way!

Alexis Gianna DiPaulo

Mistress Andrea:

What a delightful afternoon it’s shaping up to be in my judicial wing—punishments doled out, lessons learned, and a surprise spark that’s got me smirking like the cat who got the cream. First, though, duty calls with this silly male in his pink lace thong and that gleaming chastity cage, his poor denied dick all shriveled and padlocked for the long haul. He’s just finished his 22 minutes on the spanking machine, cheeks glowing redder than a traffic light he probably ran (much like my little Alexis), and now he’s staring down 45 days of blue-balled frustration—no erections, no masturbation, just endless edging in his mind. I lead him back to his cell, his shackles clinking pathetically, the thong riding up his ass like it’s trying to escape the humiliation. “One hour of quiet reflection, Mr. Thompson,” I purr, locking the door with a satisfying click. “Think about why you’re here— it's ok to cry a little more, this is a safe space to do that.” He whimpers, curling up on his bench, and I can’t help but chuckle; men like him are so easy to break, so fun to control.

As I turn away and head back to the booking area, there’s my little firecracker, Alexis, not scampering off like I expected even though she was free to go. No, she’s stuck around, using the extra time to transform back into her princess self—slipping into that flirty navy A-line dress that hugs her curves just so, shimmying on her nude hose that sheath those killer legs, and strapping back into her patent nude Loubies, those $1100 beauties polished to perfection. Makeup redone, not a trace of those mascara runs or tear-streaked cheeks; she’s a total Barbie doll now, standing all prim and proper with her little feet together, hands folded demurely in front like she’s innocent as a lamb. Ha! As if I didn’t just paddle her pert ass crimson and watch her sob her guilt away. What a minx, batting those lashes at me like butter wouldn’t melt.

Before I can tease her about it, she steps close, wrapping her arms around me in this tight, genuine hug that catches me off guard—soft curves pressing against my leather uniform, her scent all sweet and spoiled. “Thank you,” she whispers, then pulls back just enough to plant a deep kiss on my lips, bold and lingering, her tongue flicking in like she’s staking a claim. 

Oh, the spark—electric, hungry. If I didn’t have that whimpering male in his cell to tend to, I’d have scooped her up right then, marched her to my private chambers, and fucked her senseless on silk sheets, exploring every inch of that rocket body until she begged for mercy. But alas, professionalism prevails… for now.

She lingers, going in for another kiss, all passion and promise, before pulling back with this cheeky grin. Then, the brazen little thing starts giving me orders—ME, in my badass cop uniform, leather and authority. “Hand me your phone, Ma’am,” she says, holding out her palm like a demanding princess, her Loubie tapping the tile impatiently, that spoiled impatience dripping from every word. I raise a disapproving eyebrow— who does she think she is?—but damn if it doesn’t make me smirk at her cuteness. 

I hand it over, watching as she clicks one button, points it at my face for the unlock, and dives straight into my contacts. Quick as a wink, she adds her name and number, plopping a little heart emoji beside “Alexis DiPaulo.” “There,” she says, handing it back with a wink. “Now you can text me when you’re on the way to pick me up for our date.”

Wow...that was actually kinda smooth. I wonder how many silly boys she's done that to? 

What a sassy little bitch—ordering me around like she’s the one with the paddle. I giggle, low and wicked, slipping my hand under her dress in one smooth move, cupping her covered pussy through her panties and nude hose. It’s radiating heat, warm and inviting, that telltale slickness betraying her arousal all over again.

"You're...you're into women?" I ask cautiously but seductively.

"I am now," she purrs back at me, nuzzling her little nose along my neck. 

I grab her gently but firmly by the pussy, drawing her close, our bodies flush as I kiss her again, deep and teasing. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Miss DiPaulo, or was that a demand?” I give her inflamed butt a good swat on the seat of her dress. She gasps softly, eyes sparkling with mischief, and just like that, she spins on her high heels and power-struts out of my Facility, a flip of her ponytail and a she-devil smile.

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

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