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Ville meets a sad girl.
I loosened and removed my tie, undid my shirt and let it fall to the ground, then knelt to untie the laces of my shoes. Mistress stood in the corner of the lift, smiling that wicked little smile she sometimes gets when she is truly enjoying the exercise of her power. My shoes and socks came off, my trousers came down, and I was left standing in the lift clad only in her thong panties.
At that point Mistress stepped forward and kissed me deeply, her hands cupping my balls and stroking my cock through the panties. I was as edgy as a cat on a hot tin roof, ready to dive for my clothes the moment the lift started moving again. She, of course, had no such concerns - she was fully dressed! Still, there was no way I could kiss Mistress and not enjoy it ... the kiss, and her hand, ensured that quickly I was thinking more about her than about getting caught.
There was a handrail, about waist-height around the edge of the lift. Mistress commanded me to stand against one wall of the lift, facing the wall, with my hands together holding the rail. As soon as I was in position she took my tie, and bound my hands to the railing. Now, of course, I was well and truly anxious and exposed. If the lift started moving, there would be no diving for my clothes. I was stuck for as long as she wanted me there. I hoped like hell that the woman from the elevator company had known what she was talking about.
My cock, of course, loved this risky and potentially humiliating situation, and was hard, distending the panties which were my only protection. Mistress noticed this and removed them. I was completely naked, bound by the wrists to a rail inside a lift. Then, of course, it got worse. Mistress removed my belt from my trousers and doubled it over in her hand, telling me in her softest, most sultry voice, "I am going to love this, subtoy."
The strap connected with my asscheeks hard, MUCH harder than Mistress had done previously. I yelped and leaped forward, but there was nowhere for me to go. My butt felt like it was on fire, and that had only been one stroke. I loved it. I had been hoping for ages that Mistress would really go to town on my ass. She seemed to like it too, from her soft laugh. She struck again, and again. Thwap! Thwap! I was writhing and whimpering, but she loved it and that was what counted.
Twelve stroke later, my butt was a mess of red bruises and raising welts. I would be feeling this for a week. Mistress dropped my belt, untied the tie then retied my wrists without binding them to the post. "Lay on the floor, on your back," she said.
This was easier commanded than done! With my hands bound, the only way onto my back was to slide first into a sitting position, then to ease back from there. I'd have to do it from corner to corner of the lift to fit. I slid into a sitting position and whimpered as my full weight pressed down on the welts on my ass. Ouch! It was almost like being whipped all over again. I eased back until I was laying down.
"Bend your knees and shuffle forward"
If sitting had been painful, this was ten times worse. I shuffled my ass forward along the ground, every inch of flesh stinging anew, until my knees were bent and my head a reasonable distance in from the corner. Mistress was still fully dressed, while I was laying on the floor of the lift, naked and bound. She stood over me, straddling my face, and even in the dim light of the lift I could look up along her toned legs to her shaved, sweet pussy, hiding up among the folds of her skirt. Yum.
Mistress squatted down, her skirt enveloping my head and her pussy lips a bare fraction of an inch from my face.