I pulled into the driveway, my truck fully loaded. The seven-foot Christmas tree filled the bed, while the lights, ornaments, and other decorations sat in the seat next to me. I rechecked the address I had been given, verifying I had the correct home. The green lawns and full hedges of the nearby homes belied the season. Christmas in Florida never had the same holiday feel as in the northern states.

    I shifted the transmission into park and exited the cab. I unstrapped the tree and pulled it from the truck bed. The strong smell of the pine assailed my nostrils as I worked the tree up to the door. Standing the tree by my side, I rang the doorbell. I waited nervously for the door to be answered.

    "Hello," the woman in front of me said.

    She was a large woman, comfortable in her frame. Her shoulder length red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and wit. "Ma’am," I began, "I am here to put up your Christmas decorations. My name is Dennis, and Dommemail sent me." I was rushing my words, nervousness edging into my voice. I always seemed to become uneasy when facing the unknown.

    She smiled, two deep dimples forming in her cheeks. "Wonderful," she said, her voice alive with delight. She stood aside and motioned me to enter. I picked up the tree and carried it into her home.

    She escorted me into her living room. I set the tree in a vacant corner. "Where would you like the tree set up, ma’am," I asked.

    She told me she wanted the tree sitting in front of the bay window facing out into the neighborhood. We chatted for a few minutes, discussing how to arrange her furniture to make way for the tree. With the decisions made I began shifting the couch and loveseat around making room for the tree.

    I excused myself and went to my truck. I returned moments later with the tree stand. Setting the stand in front of the window, I picked up the tree and put it inside. I shifted the tree slightly, centering it in the large window. I return again with the remaining decorations, all in a large box.

    I opened the lights, long strings of solid white bulbs. I began draping the lights in ever expanding circles, working from the top to the bottom. I could feel her eyes on me as I slowly decorated the tree, burning. I glanced into her face, trying to read her. Her eyes were locked fully onto my form, studying me. She had a gentle smile playing at the sides of her mouth, her dimples showing slightly.

    I smiled back.

    I continued to coil the string of lights around the tree, spacing them as equally as I could. I finished one string and the attached two more. With the lights done, I opened the boxes of ornaments I had brought. The first box contained a box of pine cones, each with a hook attached. I hung the full box of eighteen brown pine cones.

    Next I began hanging the contents of the two remaining boxes; clear crystal ornaments with snowflakes painted on them, two dozen in all. Opening another box I withdrew six white porcelain dove pairs. Each figurine consisting of a pair of doves, their necks rubbing against each other’s. I hung the doves on the tree again spacing the decorations for maximum appeal. I returned to the box and pulled out a dozen poinsettia red bows and hung them neatly on the tree.

    Opening another box I pulled out two boxes of silver tinsel. Opening the boxes I began to gingerly place the tinsel on the tree, a couple of strands at a time. I dropped most of the two boxes of tinsel onto the tree. With the tinsel finished I pulled the final decoration from my box, a beautiful porcelain angel, dressed in white, her wings specked with gold. I set the angel atop the tree, finishing my decorations.

    I plugged the tree in. The lights, all white, lit up in a sparkling glow. Random bursts of light shone through the clear ornaments, illuminating them in an almost angelic glow. The scent of the pine completed the tranquility of the decorative tree. Turning to face the woman behind me I spoke, "How do you like it, Ma’am?"

    "It’s beautiful, thank you," she replied.

    I reached into the box of decorations again, pulling out a hammer and a nail. Obtaining her permission I hammered the nail into the front door. With the nail securely placed I pulled a large, pine wreath from the box and hung it on the door. I returned the empty boxes the ornaments came in to the larger box along with the hammer. I set the box aside.

    Asking where I could find a sheet, I fetched one. I wrapped the sheet around the base of the tree hiding the stand. I spread the sheet around the base in a circle covering up part of the hardwood floor.

    "Mistress," I said, standing to look into the deep orbs of her shiny blue eyes, "are there any other decorations you would like?"

    "No, not yet." She was still smiling at me.

    I swallowed nervously. Her look was feral, like a cat ready to pounce. That look, the power of her stare, frightened me. It was    more than just the intensity of her gaze that caused my palms to begin sweating slightly, it was the hunger hidden in that intense glare.  The searing way here eyes were boring into me made me think she could read the secrets hidden in my soul.

    I swallowed again.

    I lowered my eyes, no longer able to meet the burning strength of her gaze.

    "Look at me," she said when my head dropped. "Don’t look away." Her voice was feminine, sweet, but there was an underlying power in her tone. I heard the unmistakable timbre of authority when she spoke. I had never met this woman before today, and already I found myself flummoxed by her authority.

    I raised my head to once again stare into the ocean depths of her eyes.

    She simply stared at me for a few minutes, smiling her Cheshire cat grin. "I want to beat you. Is that okay?"

    The question was not directed at me. She just uttered the words, looking through me. I just stood there, shaking nervously. "Wait here," she told me. With that she exited the room, bounding up the stairs.

    She returned about five minutes later carrying a leather satchel. She dropped the bag on the newly relocated couch. I watched intently as she opened the leather bag. My eyes grew large as I watched her pull out a wooden paddle. The paddle was about eighteen inches long, and six inches across. Solid. Firm. Frightening.

    She hefted the paddle, swinging it in the air a few times, getting used to the feel. Her grin escalated into a huge cherubic smile as she practiced on the air. "You know," she said turning to face my silent form, "I love the look of a red ass. I find it unbelievably sexy. It is going to hurt, but that’s okay, right? You want to hurt for me, right?"

    I could barely find my voice, "Yes. Please."

    She nodded slightly, elated with my response. "Undress, I want you naked."

    I glanced at the tree and out the large bay window. The street outside was empty, and I had not seen anybody wander past the house since my arrival, still it unnerved me to begin stripping out of my clothes in front of a mostly unblocked window. I swallowed, exhaled heavily and started to undress.

    I pulled my shirt out of the confines of my pants. I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled the garment off my shoulders. I draped the shirt over the arm of the love seat, and unbuttoned my jeans. I used my feet to remove my shoes, each foot pulling the shoe off the other. Reaching down I pulled my jeans off and draped them atop my shirt. I pulled of my socks and balled them up, dropping them into the gaping mouth of my sneakers.

    I snuck a quick peek past the tree into the vacant street. Returning to face the powerful woman next to me I peeled off my white skivvies. I stood before her, holding my arms at my side. I twitched nervously, longing to cover myself with my hands. I struggled to stand still, my fingers flexing and unflexing.

    "Place your hands on the arm of the couch," she said pointing her out wishes with the business end of the paddle, "don’t let go of the couch. Count each stroke out loud."

    I shuffled across the carpet to stand in front of the arm of the couch. I bent forward and placed my still sweaty palms onto the soft fabric. I took a deep breath, held it. Released it in a long expulsion.

    The first smack startled me. I had been lost in my breath, my mind blank. The searing pain that burned across the cheek of my ass jolted me back to the situation I was in. I yelped in pain and surprise with the first blow. "One," I counted, rapidly forcing the word from my mouth. I could still feel the afterglow of that single blow from the paddle, a stinging swath of heat and pain.

    The second blow was just as hard, just as painful as the first. So was the third, and the forth. I counted each time the paddle connected with the flesh of my behind, my voice strained. My breath was coming in rapid bursts, pushing through my tightly clenched teeth. The pain escalated with each stroke of the hardwood paddle. I was oblivious to my surroundings, unaware of anything except the stinging blows and my own strained breathing.

    And the counting.

    Seven…twelve…seventeen…twenty.

    My feet stayed planted, my hands likewise. My hips bucked with each blow, twisting, thrusting. Each strike driving my breath from my lungs in a loud expulsion of pain.

    Just as quickly as it started the paddling stopped. My ass was on fire, a deep-seated burning. I slowly got my breathing back under control, taking deep breaths with my eyes shut tightly, then releasing the air through my open mouth.

    I glanced behind me to see this powerful woman sitting on the loveseat. She was holding the paddle in her hand, lightly rubbing the brown wood with the finger of her right hand. Her eyes were boring into me, shining brightly. Her own breathing was ragged, full of desire. Her voice, when she spoke, was full of lust, "don’t move. I want to just look at you, at the color of you ass."

    I turned my head away keeping my hands pressed into the arm of the couch, bent slightly at the waist. I kept myself still, holding my body bent and my hands gripping the arms of the couch. For support, for comfort. The fire in my ass had settled to an uncomfortable burning.

    "I love that color."

   Her voice startled me. I turned to face her again. She had her hand inside the top of her sundress, lightly fondling her ample breasts. She was breathing heavily. "Yes," she said again, "that color suits you."

    She pulled her hand out of her dress and stood up. She crossed the room to her bag of toys and motioned me to stand next to her. I stood slowly, wincing as I did, exhaling loudly. I walked the short distance to stand at her side.

    She reached into the satchel again and pulled out a locking cock harness. She reached her hands down and roughly shoved my penis into the ringed steel cup. Pushing the device firmly she pulled the leather strap of the harness tightly around my balls, latching the strap onto a metal band. She reached into the bag again and used the lock she removed to lock the harness onto my now captive   genitals.

    She stood up and walked behind me to whisper in my ear. "I hope you like the next game."

    I could almost hear her chuckle.

    She returned to the bag and pulled out a pair of nipple clamps. She held them out to me, "put them on. I want to watch you submit to the painful pull of the clamps willingly, by your own hand."

    I took the clamps and felt their weight. I opened the biting jaw of the clamp and placed it firmly on my left nipple. I sucked in an involuntary breath of air when I released my grip on the clamp. I repeated the procedure with the other clamp with the same sharp intake of air. The interconnecting chain pulled heavily on my nipples.

    She turned from me and walked to the newly decorated tree. She pulled two of the clear ornaments from the tree, and hung them from the nipple clamps. The pull of the clamps increased slightly. She grabbed a third ornament and proceeded to hang it from the end of the tightly locked cock cage.

    I stood there with my nipples pinched painfully, my penis encased in a locking harness, each device sporting its own Christmas decoration. I glanced out the window happy to see the road beyond still deserted. My breathing had returned to some semblance of normality, no longer as deep or as ragged.

    She looked into my eyes again, at the nervousness hidden there.

    She spoke with a calm I was not feeling; "the game is simple. You are going to drop to your knees, crawl between my thighs and service me," she was smiling again at the last, her blue eyes shining brightly. "I will keep track of the number of times I hear any of the three ornaments hit the ground. You will receive another smack with the paddle for every clink, clatter or clunk of the ornaments."

    I swallowed a lump. I knew my ass was to receive another paddling before the day was over. I watched as she lowered herself to the floor. She pulled her sundress up around her waist exposing her black cotton panties to my gaze. She motioned me to my knees, and I obeyed.

    I walked up to her on my knees and reached for her panties. I edged my fingers into the waistband and gently pulled her panties down her thighs, along her calves and off her body. The panties were damp, her arousal apparent. She had become excited beating me with the paddle, and knowing that made the soreness in my ass slightly easier to bear.

    I lowered myself onto my hands, working to keep the now dangling ornaments from scraping the ground. I inched forward; crawling up her widely parted thighs. I lowered my face into her sex. I could smell her arousal, a strong, musky scent. I pressed my face forward into her dark patch of pubic hair. I lower my face to snake my tongue along her clit, tickling it with the tip of my curled tongue.

    "That’s one," she said, a giggle in her voice.

    Surprised I realized that the ornament hanging from the cock cage had hit the ground with a loud clink. Hurriedly I lifted my hips and raised the ornament again.

    I lowered my face again; watching to make sure the ornaments didn’t perform their tattletale dance again. I pressed my tongue into the gentle folds, gently parting her lips. I snaked my tongue inside, tickling the flesh.

    I brought my hand up and used it to spread her delicate folds open. I cringed gently as I heard the unmistakable sound of an ornament striking the ground. My fingers pressed gently into her moist sex, and pried her open. I probed the exposed flesh, lightly stroking with my extended tongue.

    I flicked my tongue rapidly up and down, firmly stroking her sex. I plunged my two fingers deeper into her, bringing them together. I pistoned my fingers rapidly in and out, paused, twisted them in a circle, paused again. With my fingers plunging deeply into her sex, I used my tongue to trace lines through her pubic hair.

    I played my tongue through the thick tangle of hair, tickling the skin underneath. I no longer heard the sound of the ornaments as they struck the ground; I was lost in pleasuring this woman below me. My fingers continued their dance while my tongue plowed lines through her mat of pubic hair.

    I lowered my face to toy with her clit. Light, gentle strokes with the tip of my tongue, dancing, teasing, caressing. Her moans above me caused me to strain uncomfortably within the tight confines of the cock cage, the hard steel bands pressing into my tender skin. I twisted my hips in response to the discomfort I was feeling, scraping the ornament hanging from the cage along the hardwood floor. I was moaning in desire.

    I continued flicking my tongue across the hardened nub of her clit. Light caresses growing into hard strokes. I pulled my face away from her body, and began blowing on the wet skin. Chilling bursts of air plunging from my pursed lips. I took a breath and exhaled a hot blast of air on her clit. Cool air, hot air, cool, hot, I repeated this procedure causing the lovely woman above me to begin bucking her hips in building passion. She was moaning loudly, excited. I enjoyed knowing that I was the cause of that pleasure, taking comfort in her pleasure.

    With a final long blast of cool air, I withdrew my fingers from her wet sex and rammed my tongue in again. Hard. Deep.

    She groaned again, loudly. Her fingers pressed into the back of my skull as she rocked in uncontrolled passion, holding my face firmly against her wet sex. I continued wriggling my tongue as her orgasm shook her, my head held in place by her strong hands.

    My own arousal was trapped within the unyielding embrace of the cage. I moaned a guttural sound in both pain and frustration. The tight steel digging into my skin, pinching, binding, burning.

    She released my head and pushed me away. She was breathing heavily, her red hair matted with sweat, her deep blue eyes slightly glazed. She took a deep breath, held it, slowly let it out. "Wonderful," she said her voice raspy.

    She stood up, still breathing heavily. She seemed unfazed by the large window only partially blocked by the Christmas tree. I watched her walk to the loveseat and pick up the paddle.

    Smiling she turned to me, "and the best part is I counted eighteen times that an ornament struck the ground."

    I could only groan.

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