There are no good girls gone wrong, only bad girls found out.

I love how the soft blush spreads over every inch of skin which is revealed. As he removes his shirt, I watch it trail like a creeping floral vine down his shoulders, meandering over his pecs, and finally to his stomach. I sip wine, watching him, every movement I make tinged in giddy.
He stands, running a hand through his closely cropped hair. His smile is bashful but trying not to be and his dimples are like little punctuation marks on my affection. I let him stand, the silence holding, pregnant, between us.
"Now your pants." I lean back against the wall, my knees bent, my skirt falling back, innocent and cruelly white panties showing underneath my dress.
As he unbuttons his pants, I sip my glass of wine, trying desperately to control my smile, to remain cold and distant, but I am enjoying watching him squirm.
Before they are off, I chirp up again. "Boxers, too."
I can feel myself getting wet as I watch him expose himself to me. He is half hard, swelling slowly in front of me. He is exposed, on display. His posture is perfect, hands held behind his back. He knows he will measure up and this makes my smile curl into something more sinister. When he was bashful, I wanted nothing more than to give affection. Now that he is self assured, I simply long to put him in his place.
I stand, walking downs him, letting my fingers trail over his hip. "Do you trust me?"
He laughs. "No."
"That's smart." I walk over to the curtails and pull the ribbon which holds them back. I walk back over, slowly, letting him listen to nothing more than my breath and footsteps, both regimented and sure.
I place the blindfold over his eyes and I can feel his body bristle. Smart, smart man.
Once I finish tying it, I let my hands run down his arms, tickling them slightly with my finger tips.
I watch as his cock swells and I can't help but smile. I am endeared by the earnestness of his erection. My hand trails down his stomach to wrap around his cock, squeezing softly, just once, just to let him know I am looking forward to this.
I step back to watch him sweat, to watch his cock bob.
I am already soaking my white panties, and we haven't even yet begun.

Practice makes perfect.

I stand with my knees locked, even though she keeps telling me to relax. The cadence of her voice makes me weak and nervous all at the same time. I'm bending over just enough to where my ass is out, already red and marred with red and white stripes.
I hold the book in my hand, and try to keep it so steady, try and make it easier to read. But as my eyes try and focus on the tiny text and my shaking hands, it seems like this lesson will never end.
Her hand runs through my hair, which is again falling into my face. Her delicate fingers run themselves over my skin and through my bangs. My breath is ragged and it catches when she touches me.
"Read it again."
I open my mouth, and stammer. This is unacceptable.
I feel her bring the cane down again. I count each one with a cry and a corresponding whimper. I count to seven, each number accompanied by a burn, a sting, a line of white heat coming down on my ass.
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Good girl. Now again."