Della dropped Frank's keys into her purse as she entered his apartment.

Trailing behind her, Frank stood bewildered, watching as she strode about the place, through his kitchen/living room and down the short hallway, like an admiral inspecting a ship.

Having admitted to Della (and to himself) only moments before that to serve her as her cunt-lapping lackey was his only desire, Frank was dazed. He stood, waiting in a stupefied state of fierce arousal.

Della's first impression of the small apartment was surprisingly positive. Clearly, Frank was not a slob; even the kitchen was clean and orderly. The living room was spare and uncluttered - Frank hadn't bothered to replace most of the furnishings Susan had taken in the divorce - giving it a calm and spacious feeling that Della found appealing.

She turned and entered the short hallway leading to the bedroom.

"Get undressed," she told him over her shoulder as she poked her head in the bathroom doorway. It too was tidy; it was tiny, but neat.

"Very nice!" she enthused moments later, returning from the bedroom. "It'll be perfect!"

Her apparent delight ended abruptly, and so did her momentum, on finding Frank exactly where she had left him, blinking dumbly in the entranceway.

"Why are you still dressed?" she said, sounding surprised. "Didn't I tell you to take off your clothes?" she added, indignantly.

As if suddenly awakened, Frank snapped out of his stupor and began to remove his clothes - shirt, shoes, pants, underwear, socks - in rapid order, leaving them in a heap before the door.

His eight-inch erection bounced and swayed with his vigorous movements. He was panting, almost quivering in eagerness. He was ready to give himself to Della completely. Having realized that she enjoyed controlling him, he was prepared to worship her in any way she might wish. So, he was quite disappointed to find her still fully clothed.

Della stood, hands on hips, hiding her elation behind a severe visage of disapproval. He really is a handsome boy, she thought, only excepting that he was a little soft in the middle, a flaw she would relish correcting.

"On your knees, slut!" She sounded like a drill sergeant.

Frank, his disappointment vanquished by her imperious tone, complied eagerly, ready and willing to accept her abuse.

"If this is going to work, you'll have to learn to be obedient," she explained with exaggerated patience, stepping forward.

She put the pointed toe of her boot between his knees and nudged them apart so she could stand between them. So close. She looked down on him, her pussy pulsing at the possibilities. His balls, so vulnerable, hung mere inches from her boot...

Frank felt the heat of her loins on his naked chest. His face, all but touching her sweater-covered belly, sensed not only her body heat, but the scent of her, too. Deep breaths brought the spice of her arousal up his nose, piercing his brain like a drug.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" she said in a rhetorical tone.

She placed her hand on his head for a moment. Then, gripping a handful of his wavy hair, she pulled it back, tilting his face up towards hers.

"Do you want to be a good boy for me?" she asked solemnly , fixing his eyes with hers.

Frank tried to nod his head, held fast by Della's fist. "Yes, ma'am," he croaked.

"You know I have to punish you, don't you?" she replied in the same solemn tone.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. His neck and scalp were beginning to ache. He didn't mind; it was necessary.

"I'm going to punish you now," she said decisively.

Frank felt relief and elation. Any trepidation was outweighed by the sense of a deep connection being forged.

"And, I will punish you again," she continued, adding wistfully, "Yes, I will punish you often, whenever I wish. For any reason, or for no reason at all!"

How fantastical it sounded to Frank, staring up into her calm, cool eyes, captivated by the strength of her will, as well as her grip on his scalp.

Her visage sharpened, eyes narrowing, challenging him once again. Her voice turned cold and cruel again.

"You're going to take everything I dish out. No exceptions, no excuses."

She gave a little tug on his locks, jerking his head back further.

"Do you understand?" she demanded harshly.

"Yes, ma'am," Frank responded, his voice quavering.

Looking down over his upturned face, Della hocked loudly and spat out a large wad of spit that hit Frank right between the eyes. Feeling it oozing down the side of his nose, Frank reopened his eyes in time to see the imperious satisfaction on her face.

She released her grip, allowing him to level his head and let her spit slide down to his lips, where he made a show of fetching it with his tongue, slurping it into his mouth and swallowing. Instinct told him she wanted this sign of his subservient humility.

She resisted the temptation to kick him in the balls. Later, she thought; we have all night.

"Get up," she commanded. She nodded toward the kitchen behind him. "Bring me a wooden spoon, the longest one you've got."

"Back on your knees," she ordered, slapping the rounded end of the fourteen-inch-long implement Frank had presented to her. He had bowed his head and presented it solemnly, almost ceremonially, with arms outstretched. He knew what she was going to do with it.

"Assume the position!" she barked, and then clarified (a teachable moment), "head on the floor, ass up in the air."

Frank's emotions were a jumble. A small part of his brain saw it as silly; wasn't it all just a game, a role to play in a sexual fantasy? And yet, as he obeyed - as the word itself implied - it felt real, as if he had no choice but to do as she bade him. And the intense arousal - his cock was now leaking, dripping with lust - told him it made no difference: there was nothing he could do but to see it through, to become whatever she would make of him.

The act of kneeling while she stood standing was as clear a demonstration of his inferiority as being naked while she was fully clothed. It astonished Frank how natural and true it felt. Now, having "assumed the position" (he repeated the phrase in his mind like an aphrodisiacal spell), his precum was pooling into a shiny little puddle on the floor beneath him.

Frank waited anxiously for the ordeal to begin, hoping that the intensity of his arousal would soften the pain, while Della slowly walked around him, admiring his pale, smooth skin and the youthful vitality of his form, and took up her position behind him. He certainly was handsome, but Della had other priorities, like adding some color to the flawless white globes of his upturned ass.

Now, safely out of Frank's line of sight, Della slipped her left hand under the waistband of her slacks, into her damp cotton panties, and slid a finger along her sopping slit, easily parting her inner lips and pressing into her horny hole and up against her swollen nub. She sighed silently, took a deep breath, and raised her right arm to strike her victim with the brandished tool.

"I'm going to give you ten." Della belied her concupiscent state with grave tone and severe pronouncement.

"You will count each stroke out loud and thank me, saying 'Thank you, Miss Della.' If you fail to thank me or lose count, we will start over from one. When we're finished, you will thank me again in your own words, explaining why you had to be punished."

Oh God, I love this! Della thought as she laid the first blow right on target with a satisfying, resounding SMACK. The second blow was just about to land on Frank's other cheek before he found his voice.

"One. Thank you, Miss Della," he said shakily.

Had he forgotten for a moment, distracted by the novelty, or had he been overcome by the pain and humiliation? It hardly mattered; he had met the requirement, and he managed to keep up, through to the end, despite Della's crescendo and accelerando, hitting harder and faster as her excitement grew.

She was breathless by the end, and not just from the orgasm that drenched her busy fingers at the final stroke. She had put all her strength and skill into the build-up, working up a sweat in her warm clothes, and holding back her climax till the last stroke.

She looked down upon her victim through a haze of euphoria, as if from a great height, and appraised the beauty of her handiwork, the bright glow of his flaming cheeks, so evenly distributed, without bruising or bleeding to mar its perfection.

Not that Della was averse to more brutal treatment, but there would be time for that. Just looking at him from behind, she could tell he was proud of himself. His cock had deflated and was no longer dripping, but he had borne his beating stoically, without a whimper.

"Thank you, Miss Della. Thank you for correcting my disrespect and my failure to obey you," Frank announced as soon as Della was standing in front of him again.

Oh, yes. Della could hear it in his voice: the proud little man who had acted bravely for his lady. The time would come, and soon, she vowed, when the outcome would be quite the reverse: his will broken and his cock hard.

"Get up! On your feet!" Della stepped up to him as he straightened to his full six-foot height. Grabbing his left buttock with her right hand, she squeezed the burning flesh hard and pulled him up against her, while wiping her left hand on his face, smearing it with her fragrant cunt juice and shoving three slimy fingers into his mouth.

Frank was overwhelmed. The burning soreness of his ass merged with the intoxication provoked by the odor and flavor of Della's ripe, spent pussy. His craving for her doubled in intensity. His cock stood tall again.

She slapped his wounded ass sharply, eliciting a small yelp. She then took a step back and made a show of looking him up and down.

"You like it when I hurt you, don't you?" she posited, sounding very serious. She grasped his huge erection as evidence and jiggled it.

It hardly mattered that Frank wasn't at all sure how he felt about the pain; there was only one answer to give.

"Yes, miss, if it pleases you."

Precum was now flowing once again, spilling down Frank's engorged shaft and over Della's fingers, as she squeezed it to increase the flow.

"Oh, it does!" Della replied gleefully, much too gleefully to Frank's ears.

She brought her hand to her mouth and licked off all the precum greedily, as if that proved her point. She was also pleased that he was now addressing her as "miss," which she much preferred over "ma'am."

And then she did what she'd been longing to do since the elevator ride. She swiftly, suddenly, and expertly kicked Frank in the balls!

"Aarrgghh," Frank groaned, sweet music to Della's ears, as he folded and sank to his knees, holding his crotch with both hands. He flopped over onto his side in fetal position, writhing and moaning.

Della unfastened her slacks and pulled them down to her calves, exposing her plain black cotton panties. She sat down on the edge of Frank's low coffee table and spread her legs.

Beginning to recover, Frank's eyes were immediately drawn to the stray black curls escaping from the crotch of her panties, like a lacy fringe against her smooth thighs. They were tight and muscular, with just a slight seasoning of cellulite, which only served to enhance the sight.

Frank had ceased writhing, transfixed by Della's seemingly careless movements.

She slipped a hand up under her sweater and squeezed her little boobs before pulling the sweater up, over her head and off, to reveal a simple T-shirt bra that matched her panties.

His aching balls were completely forgotten now and his cock rose again to full mast.

Della was ready to allow him a little pleasure now, albeit supervised, to reinforce her authority. "Come here," she ordered, pointing to the floor in front of her. "Stand right there. I want to watch you masturbate."

That sounded more than fair to Frank. He gripped his shaft, already slick with precum, staring eagerly at her remarkably slim torso. The little bit of slack around her navel with its tiny stretch marks only made her more desirable.

"Wait," Della said sharply. "Don't you think you ought to clean up your mess first?"

This chilled Frank's excitement, his chance to finally cum, and to do it as part of Della's cruel, teasing game. What now? Another round of degradation?

"You leaked all over the floor," she complained, pointing at the evident and evidential pool of cock drool. "I can't allow you to make messes and not clean them up!" she explained as if to a dim-witted child.

Della loved how stupid he looked until he saw where she was pointing. Like a dumb animal, she thought.

"No. Stop," she commanded when he turned toward the kitchen. "With your tongue. Lick it up!"

Della couldn't tell if Frank had already come to accept her authority, but he had yet to balk at any command, and now, once again, he did as he was told. On his knees with his head bent, he obediently licked the floor clean of all traces of the clear viscous fluid he had deposited.

Frank's only concern, besides pleasing Della, was that he might be leaking again from his unrelenting boner while cleaning up his earlier drips. He almost laughed at the thought. Imagine having to go in perpetual circles, dripping and licking it up.

Della enjoyed watching him eating his precum; she wondered if he liked it as much as she did. Frank did like it, not that it had much flavor. But it tasted like submission.

"Good boy!" Della said when Frank had completed his little chore and looked up at her for approval. She spoke with such condescension that it almost sounded sarcastic, but Frank took it exactly as intended, as a reward for simple obedience.

He wanted to obey her. He wanted to please her, especially in demeaning ways that might demonstrate how far he placed her above himself.

"Good boy!" she said again, as if talking to a pet. "Come here," she added, patting her naked thigh.

Frank got to his feet quickly and stood before her. He still felt a little silly, playing this game of hers, but he couldn't help being proud of his erection, the big, hard testament to his desire for her.

"I got a little warm," Della said, spreading her bare arms.

Frank ogled her pretty neck and shoulders and noted how toned her arms looked, with only the slightest hint of sag in her upper arms. She obviously works out, he decided, not that he was thinking very clearly.

His perceptions were erotically skewed by the tangy haze of eau de pussy pervading his senses. If the juice Della had smeared on his face had lost some of its potency by now, it was dramatically augmented by his proximity to her almost naked body and the sopping panties she still wore, now exposed to the open air as well as his hungry eyes.

The time had definitely come for Della to apply the carrot side of her two-part strategy. Teasing was almost as fun as torture!

"Oh, what a pretty cock, you have!" she enthused, reaching out to touch it.

Her words alone were enough to evoke a little jolt of pleasure that pulsed his turgid staff. A new bead of precum appeared at its crown.

"Ooh! It's so juicy, too!"

Della, with not a little ostentation, swiped up the pearly drop with her fingertip and transferred it to her tongue, which she extended lasciviously to lap it up.

"Mmm, you're so delicious!" she exclaimed, smacking her lips.

The sight alone made Frank's cock jerk again, even harder, and more precum appeared, formed a larger bead, and then broke, running down his shaft like a flow of lava.

Della touched him again, with her left hand, scooping up the running stream onto her index finger. Another jerk shuddered Frank's whole frame.

This time, she raised her hand to Frank's mouth. He opened obediently and put out his tongue. Della inserted the coated digit into his mouth.

"See? Isn't it lovely?" she asked, as he dutifully sucked her finger clean, marveling at the silky texture of the stuff while his desire amped up another level. He continued to suck hungrily long after the precum was gone.

Della had now gripped the big cock and was beginning to stroke it up and down. She twisted her hand around the slick shaft, flexing her wrist, to make up for the fact that her fingers couldn't reach all the way around.

Frank was beside himself! No hand but his own had ever jacked his cock before and Della was clearly an expert. He would have come in seconds, except Della kept stopping to collect the excess precum that kept oozing out as she squeezed.

She stopped every fifteen or twenty seconds, each time Frank was sure his load was about to blow, and alternately fed the fresh precum to him and to herself, oohing and aahing and making yummy noises the whole time.

Frank was on edge, loving the sensation, loving the passivity and the depravity of eating his own secretion at Della's whim. Finally, after what seemed like hours of ecstatic torture, it appeared she was going to let him come!

But at the last second, Della dug her fingernails into his shaft, stopping his eruption before it began. Pain and frustration clouded his face.

"Now, now," she scolded like a reproachful nanny, "that's quite enough! I won't have you squirting your nasty sperm all over the place."

Frank was shaking. The pain in his cock had only impeded the imminence of his orgasm, but the need was still strong. He realized, as his heartbeat decelerated, how masterfully Della had played her hand. His awe of her only made the need stronger.

She bent down and tugged at her slacks, now pooled at her ankles.

"Would you be a dear and help me get these off?" she spoke sweetly. "You'll have to take my shoes off first."

Jumping at the opportunity to display his chivalry, Frank got down on one knee, fumbled with the cuffs of her slacks, and found the laces of her sexy ankle boots. He untied and removed each boot in turn. His rigid cock pointed directly at her the whole time.

He watched Della slip the low-cut socks off her dainty feet. He empathized with the pleasure she displayed at the liberation of her toes as she wiggled them beneath his gaze.

She shook her feet free of the slacks and displayed her toes again seductively.

"You may kiss them if you wish," she said happily, as if offering him a great benevolence.

With knee bent already, Frank now bowed his head too. Holding her precious foot in his hand, he pressed his lips to the smooth skin of its bridge, an act both humble and chaste. But the odor emanating from between her sweaty toes arose, mingled with the strong aroma of girl cum that pervaded the entirety of the air supply around him, and simply overwhelmed the young man.

Almost unaware of his actions, driven by a wave of pure carnal desire, he shifted her foot, breathed its scent deeply with nostrils flared, and shoved her fragrant toes into his mouth, laving them with his tongue as he salivated reflexively like a hungry animal.

Equally reflexively, and certainly unintentionally, his cock erupted. His semen spattered all over, but mostly on Della. One spurt hit her face, beneath her right eye, but most of it landed on her stomach, legs, and feet.

Della was furious. "You disgusting pig!" she shouted. "Clean up this mess right this minute!"

"But... I thought... you said..." Frank stuttered before he dutifully began licking the splooge off her feet.

"I detest cum," she explained, "and I normally won't allow it. I only like precum."

Frank could taste the difference. This stuff was much nastier, but that made it all the more degrading and he was eager to eat it all for her. But when her feet were clean, she ordered him to stop.

"I'm not going to allow you the pleasure. I'm going to take a shower," she announced, watching his reaction. She wasn't sure which she liked better, his shame or his disappointment.

"Lick all that up," she waved a hand at the moderate amount of cum on the floor and the table. "Lick it off and then go over it with a washcloth. I don't want sticky floors and furniture." She didn't sound so angry, now, just disappointed, which to Frank was worse.

He got work immediately and then waited for her. The shower had stopped.

Della emerged form the bathroom wearing one of Franks dress shirts. It made her look innocent and vulnerable. But she was neither.

"I left my underwear in the sink. I want them washed and dry in the morning," she commanded. "Also, pick up my clothes and fold them neatly." She glanced around the room. "And yours too," she added gesturing toward the front door where he had left them in a heap.

"Bedtime," she announced, yawning, and started toward the bedroom. He followed her to the bedroom doorway, where she turned back toward him

"Bring me a cup of coffee at six o'clock," she ordered, and then she went on, into his bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" she said when he tried to follow.

"Uh, I thought..." he started, nodding towards his own bed.

"That's where I sleep," she said.

She pushed him back gently and closed the door in his face.