by Frank Martinet
"Let's see how she looks!"
The servants quickly broke away, leaving Lana standing alone on the dais. She was facing away from me slightly and turned and looked at me over her shoulder. I sucked in my breath in hidden delight. She was stunning.
Lana strongly reminded me of a cat. She had the body type: slender and lithe with athletic elegance, yet with graceful feminine curves. Her dirty blonde hair hung in casual-seeming wisps down to her shoulders, every hair seemingly random, yet perfectly placed. The triangle of her petite face was also feline: angled eyebrows, large expressive almond-shaped eyes, the cutest tiniest nose, elegant high cheekbones, and a small welcoming mouth with clean white teeth. Delicious.
Around her neck she wore a black leather collar, its short leash hanging loose between her bare breasts, dainty upturned things with stiff, impudent nipples. Her waist narrowed sharply making the swell of her hips and the dip of her back even more dramatic. Around her hips was a small scarlet sash tied in a bow at the back, a short tail dangling into the valley between the bare orbs of her buttocks. These ball-like buttocks drew your eye - I'd never seen a rounder, cheekier bottom. Lana's legs were long and graceful, with flawless honey-colored skin, but her butt was the star with such a high-placed outthrust it insisted you pay attention and worship it.
Lana swiveled, her hips swaying seductively, her high bottom bobbing as she struggled to step in her three-inch spike heels. Everything about her body was centered around that spectacular ass; the cheeks were the ball joints of her sleek legs.
She looked at me, blushing and grinning and terrified at the same time. I saw that except for the collar, the sash, and the shoes, she was utterly naked. From the front of the sash hung a tiny triangle which only just covered her pubis; when she moved it would no doubt offer exciting glimpses into her secret charms.
"You look perfect," I said.
"Thank you."
"There's only one thing missing."
She didn't even need to touch her toes; her bum was splendidly taut just standing there. With the long black riding switch I gave her three cuts three inches apart. The third was low, almost to her thighs, and she stared at me silently, tears glistening in her eyes and her pretty mouth tense with pain. Already the white lines were darkening to crimson. They were swelling and soon would be raised puffy weals of a purplish hue.
"Now you are ready." I headed for the door. "Come, our guests await."
Lana followed, eyes still brimming with tears, tottering on her high heels, her breasts quivering delicately with each step.
"Gentlemen, this is my wife, Lana."
The men stood in respect. There were nine of them. They'd been carefully selected for variety, so there were tall and short, lean and stout, young and old. Three had beards, one a mustache. There was a black man, an Hispanic, a man from Pakistan. Most were wealthy and successful in their own right, but two of the younger men were nobodies: Manuel, the youngest of all at nineteen, was our yard man. One of the older men was also nobody: my wife and I had met him in a parking lot asking for spare change.
This was all on purpose, of course. A punishment dinner was meant to be humiliating and thus we couldn't just invite close friends or respectable people. We wanted total strangers, people of different social backgrounds and perspectives, of various physical characteristics, and disparate personalities.
The reactions of the men showed we'd succeeded: I saw expressions of shock, disbelief, and outrage. Some were openly lustful, while others tried to hide their desire. A few looked uncomfortable; one or two looked like they'd have no problem fucking my wife right there on my own foyer rug while watched. More than one man was adjusting his crotch, though most struggled to do it discretely.
"Lana will be our servant this evening. Anything you need or would like her to do, just ask."
I motioned for Lana to lead us into the dining hall, and she obliged with several precarious steps forward. The men immediately followed like bees to a flower. It was as though there was an invisible rope binding her to them; as she moved forward, they moved with her, tugged along.
Lana's beautiful ass swayed as she walked, the bare rounds shifting vertically and side-to-side in a mesmerizing jiggle as she moved. Every single man, I noticed, had his eyes fixated on her glorious golden rump. None could fail to notice the set of horizontal stripes across the smooth cheeks. The plum weals were now raised and looked furiously painful. There was no doubt she'd been corporally punished and the freshness of the livid marks indicated it had happened recently. I could see every man was wondering the same thing: would it happen again and would they get to witness it?
In the dining hall, Lana led each man, one-by-one, to his place at the table where he stood behind his chair and waited. She began with the eldest man and continued down to Manuel, the youngest, who blushed furiously as she took his hand and led him to the table.
This process took time, but not even a single man fidgeted nervously, all were enjoying the delicious sight of my wife's catlike body gliding around the room. I suppose if nothing else had happened the entire evening, it would have been a memorable event in the lives of these men, but, of course, this was merely the beginning.
I look my place at the head of the table, my wife at my elbow, and at my nod, everyone took their seats. "Lana, please serve the aperitifs," I commanded, and she nodded and went to obey. All eyes were on her as she trotted to the sideboard and retrieved a decanter of sweet wine which she proceeded to serve to each man. Again this took time, but again no-one complained. The hall was dead silent.
When all had been served, I lifted my glass in a toast. "To Lana's Punishment Dinner," I said; there was a nervous chuckle as drinks were thrown back and consumed. That seemed to awaken the men, and conversations, quiet at first, began at different parts of the long table.
Meanwhile, Lana had disappeared into the kitchen to return a few minutes later with a cart with trays of appetizers: tiny skewers of shrimp and avocado, assorted crackers and expensive cheeses, fresh bread, cold cuts, and spicy deviled eggs. Lana served these to each man personally, never speaking, but smiling broadly as she moved the chosen items to his plate. She was forced to bend very close to each man, her golden hair dangling in his face and her bare breasts right at his arm, so near it would take a motion of just inches to grasp the sweet peaches in his hand. As she leaned forward between two men to reach their plates, she had to turn her body sideways to slide between them, offering one her front with its slightly veiled sex and the other the raw melons of her ass. It is no wonder no-one minded that it took twenty minutes to deliver the appetizers?
Next on the menu was a light salad of spinach and two kinds of lettuce, crumbled feta, toasted walnuts, and fresh pear slices. It was drizzled with a honey-blackberry dressing and was divine, though I doubt a man there noticed. For certain, every single one forgot the meal entirely with what happened next.
Lana was carting off the used dishes and silverware, removing to a cart which she moved along behind her. As usual, conversations had quieted when she was near as the men ogled and admired her. She was almost finished when a fork slipped off a plate as she was transporting it and clattered to the wooden floor with a noise to alert the dead. There was a shocked silence. Most of the men were bemused, a few alarmed and curious at the sound, but Lana's expression of dismay caught the attention of all, and there was an immediate electricity in the air.
Gulping, Lana quickly stooped and picked up the dropped fork, curtseying apologetically, and placing it on the cart. She quickly went on with her task, clearing the remaining dishes, but before she could leave the room with the cart, I cleared my throat. It was not a loud sound, but Lana froze, her elegant back to the audience, and suddenly all conversation faded and everyone looked between her and me expectantly.
"Bring me the leather paddle," I said.
Lana looked stricken, biting her lower lip in consternation, but she muttered a quick, "Yes sir!" and departed quickly, pushing the cart into the kitchen.
In less than a minute she was back, holding a flat leather instrument in her hands. It was five or six inches in height and triple that in length. It was thin - no more than a quarter inch at the most - and it had a wooden handle at one end. I took this end and held it. The blade was stiff like a board, but obviously more flexible. There was no question this was an implement of discipline, and I could sense the anticipation and excitement of the men. Lana's face was an attempt at impassivity, but her huge eyes gave her away as she watched me, terror-stricken.
I motioned and she turned, presenting her bottom to the men. I had moved my chair away from the table so she was at the head, and everyone had an excellent view. It was so quiet you could almost hear Lana sweating as she waited, arched slightly forward, the balls of her ass presented for the paddle.
"For incompetence in your duties," I said sternly, and swung the paddle firmly into those cheeks. It was not a hard blow - solid, but not devastating. However, the sound was loud in the narrow dining hall, and it was obviously a genuine punishment stroke. Most of the men were astonished: eyes went wide, jaws dropped open, and hands went frantically to crotches under the table.
Meanwhile, Lana had not moved or made a sound. The spank must have stung intensely, but she showed no reaction. Her bottom quivered for a moment, then settled, with a beautiful rosy glow beginning to form across the expanse of bare flesh.
"One," I said loudly, and brought the paddle around again. This one was harder, a real stinger, and Lana jerked her head upward, her hair flinging from side to side. She wiggled her rump frantically, a tiny gasp of pain exiting her mouth. The ruddy blotch across both cheeks deepened.
"Two." I did not wait but delivered the third quickly. It was the hardest yet, a real cracker that made the room tremble. More than one man gasped at the force of the blow, and Lana hissed angrily through her teeth. Her hips writhed in agony as she struggled to cope with the fiery sting.
I glanced around the table and saw every eye was on Lana's dancing bottom, and nearly every set of hands was busy under the tablecloth.
"Three," I said. There was a hushed pause but then I stepped aside and held the paddle out for Lana. Her punishment was over. She looked at me gratefully. "You will apologize to our guests," I said sternly.
"Yes sir." She faced the men. "Please accept my sincere apologies for my incompetence earlier and for any inconvenience my punishment has caused you. If you feel I need further chastisement, please inform my husband and I will gladly accept your judgment, no matter how severe."
Her speech inflamed the men. If there had been a stone man who hadn't been aroused before, he had crumbled now; every single man was ready to fuck Lana on that table right then and there.
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