"Lie on the table," the man in the mask said.
She had no name for him, but she never needed one. No one else was ever present when they were together. He was clothed, comfortably enough, in a black t-shirt whose fabric was thin enough to reveal sculpted shoulders, and the cultivated lean mass of his pecs and upper arms. He wore black chinos and went barefoot. She wished, often, that she could pull the molded mask from his face to see if he was handsome. She knew he must be. He had the confidence of a man that knew women wanted him when they looked at him.
She looked to the padded table in the padded, soundproof room. She didn't want to be on it. She considered asking him to fuck her, but something about him left her helplessly insecure to ask that question, lest he reject her. She walked forward, and as she had on her previous visits, bent over the table with her knees on the pad on the floor. She stretched her arms out to the table's end, and waited.
The man walked, unhurriedly, to the end of the table. He lifted her wrists into padded leather cuffs, and buckled her hands in place. Only then did he kneel, look her in the eyes in the gap between her hands, and ask what she'd done.
"I fucked a married man," she said. She never broke eye contact.
He gazed back at her, dispassionately, through the eye holes in his mask.
"No," he said, "you didn't."
How did he know?
He always knew which ones were true and which weren't.
"You thought about it, though," he said. "You thought about it a lot."
He didn't wait for further explanation. He rose and walked behind her, and she felt his body heat as he crouched, reached around her waist, and unbuttoned her jeans. He pulled them down to her knees, then slid her panties down to mid-thigh. She'd worn red lace for him. She said nothing, but she hoped he liked them. Her ass exposed, and her helpless to stop anything he might want to do to her, she trembled. She felt her legs start to shake.
"Do you want to be punished," he asked, "for the crime of lusting after a married man?"
She felt her cunt throb.
"Yes please," she whispered.
She anticipated, and her trembling increased with her arousal.
The wooden paddle hissed in the air and she felt the first sharp smack on her ass at the same time she heard the crack.
She whimpered softly.
"You've been a bad girl, Rebecca," he said. "This hurts me more than it hurts you."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll try to do better."
He struck her again, and she felt the heat flooding into her ass. She felt her pussy swell, dripping wet.
