The Woman Who Asserted Her Domination with a Slipper

It was almost eleven when Marisol finally got up. Damián had had breakfast with her before leaving for the clinic, but as soon as he closed the door she decided to lie back down for a while. The last few days had been intense and her body was asking for a breather now and then. There was no better moment than that, with the boy out of the house.

She made herself a coffee, settled into one of the loungers in the garden facing the pool, and drank it slowly. She thought about how different that life was from her apartment in the city, without the noise or the rush. She had been in the village six days and already knew she would find it hard to forget them, even though deep down she was clear that this was not her place.

She was more than twenty years older than the boy. She could have been his mother before being his lover, and to make matters worse, Damián’s mother was one of her best friends. What would she think of me if she found out I’ve gotten involved with her son? She closed her eyes and let the memories of the week come back on their own.

On the first day she had put him in his place over a stupid insolence, and from then on a rule settled between them that neither of them had written down but both obeyed to the letter. When he answered back or dragged his feet, she would take off her slipper with calculated slowness and warm his backside until he learned his lesson. The curious thing was that the boy liked it. He liked the ritual, the waiting, that white, rough sole moving from side to side before coming down on his ass.

One morning, she had asked him to go down and get bread while she finished cooking. He, engrossed in the newspaper, huffed without looking up.

—What did I just tell you? —Marisol asked, drying her hands on her apron.

—That I should go get the bread, ufff —the young man replied, tired of the same old sermon.

—Ufff? Get up. Right now.

She grabbed his arm, bent her leg to slip off her slipper, and yanked down his shorts in one pull. Twenty-five swats for disobedience and another twenty-five for huffing. Poor Damián went out into the street to buy bread not knowing the redness was peeking out from under his shorts. Marisol smiled at the memory, took another sip of coffee, and went on remembering.

The best had come on Monday, when she laid down another unwritten law: he would go off to work with his ass warmed up. Before leaving for the clinic, Damián would rest his hands on the hallway wall, lower his pants and underwear, and wait. There was a full-length mirror on each side, so he didn’t even need to turn his face to see everything.

—And you’ll be here on time, understood? Or I swear I’ll test you until you can’t sit down for a week —she’d tell him, showing him the sole.

Two dozen slipper swats spread across both cheeks left his backside burning all the way into town. And when he came back at midday there were two possibilities: if he was late, he got more; if he was early, he found that woman kneeling before him without a word, pulling out his cock and sucking him slowly, as an appetizer before lunch.

—My God, how happy we would have been if I’d met you when I was young —she murmured now in a low voice, alone in the garden.

***

After finishing her coffee, she put on her shoes and went out to get bread, which was all she needed. She walked along happy as a lark, and when she passed the neighbors’ house she heard a sound she knew all too well: the dry crack of a slipper against bare skin, accompanied by moans. Amparo, the neighbor, was once again reading the riot act to her daughter.

Marisol thought about that girl, Noelia, and how obvious it was that her young lover felt something for her. A girl with chestnut hair and an angelic face, a sweet voice, a body that made people jealous. With an ass like that, no wonder the mother has him so well looked after, she told herself, if I do exactly the same with Damián’s, too. And then an idea came to her.

—What did you say, ma’am? Can I get you anything? —The baker had caught her talking to herself in front of the counter.

—Two loaves, please —she replied, embarrassed.

On the way home she ran into Noelia, still teary-eyed from the punishment she had just received.

—Noelia, right? I’m Damián’s aunt, the new dentist —she introduced herself, stopping her in the middle of the street.

—Hi, yes. I saw you out walking the other day. Nice to meet you —the young woman replied, polite and a little surprised.

—Are you all right, sweetheart? I can see you’ve been crying, and when I passed in front of your house I immediately understood why.

—Well… you know what my mother is like. I’m in a hurry; I don’t want her to get angry again —the girl answered, resuming her walk, embarrassed that even a newcomer could tell what kind of fit her home was.

Yes, definitely a good girl for Damián. Marisol decided to smooth the way for him. Instead of going on to her own house, she knocked on Amparo’s door with the firm intention of inviting her to dinner on Saturday, her and the girl, along with her nephew. They would get to know each other better, and who knew whether the youngsters might end up getting along even better.

Amparo let her in and offered her a coffee. She was a kind, attentive woman, nothing like the shrew shouting from the street. They hit it off right away. The mother had also noticed that her daughter had a crush on the dentist, but a city boy didn’t inspire trust. That could change now that she knew his “aunt.”

—If I’m to be honest, I didn’t trust your nephew. You know what they say about city people —Amparo admitted, crossing her legs.

—I understand, but with my nephew you can relax. His mother and I always kept him on the straight path, and when he strayed a little he knew what awaited him —Marisol replied, making that palm-of-the-hand gesture that needs no explanation.

—Then we’re from the same school. My girl is very good, but she talks back, and I handle that terribly. Every time she crosses the line I take this one off and put it in its place —Amparo said, stretching out her leg to show her house slipper, with its rough, worn yellow sole.

—Those work miracles. I always keep a pair like that handy, just in case —Marisol replied, looking at that sole with a shiver of excitement. So that’s what you used to warm the girl’s ass this morning.

***

When Damián came home to eat, she brought him up to speed on the plan and on the fact that Amparo had accepted the invitation.

—Are you sure about this? That woman doesn’t like me —he said, doubtful.

—She knows her daughter likes you, and she’s afraid you’ll take her away from her and she’ll be left alone. Leave it to me and you’ll see —Marisol replied with absolute confidence.

—And us? If I end up with her, you and I…

—I have to go back to the city, darling. That girl likes you and can make you happy. You know what I mean. —She opened her legs under the table, lifted her skirt almost up to her hips, and smiled wickedly—. Have you finished eating? Then get down, your dessert is waiting for you.

Damián pushed his chair back and knelt on the other side of the table. He crawled on all fours beneath it, hypnotized, his tongue already out. Marisol threw her head back the moment she felt the first contact. The boy found her clit quickly, covered it in saliva, bit it and licked it again and again. When her moans became audible, he slid two fingers inside and began to pump in and out, slowly speeding up while his tongue gave her no respite. She clamped his head between her thighs until he could barely breathe, and came with a tremor that flooded his face.

—Fuck, every day you get better —she panted, closing her legs over him.

—I’d eat you out every day of my life —the boy replied, catching his breath.

—Get back to the clinic, you rogue, you’re going to be late. Don’t make me warm your ass for you.

***

On Saturday night, the doorbell announced the guests. The table had been set in advance. Aunt and nephew greeted them on the garden porch, drinks in hand, showing off the house that would probably end up being the young couple’s refuge if things worked out.

—Lucky to live so close, aren’t you? —Marisol slipped in, hitting the bull’s-eye. If the daughter got together with her nephew, she wouldn’t be far away.

—Yes, actually, yes —Amparo admitted, to the boys’ astonishment.

The evening flowed smoothly. Damián, the perfect host, made trips to the kitchen bringing out dishes and clearing away the ones they’d finished, and Amparo looked at him with better and better eyes. In the end, Marisol asked her nephew to bring out a bottle of herb liqueur bought for the occasion.

—Come on, woman, at least one glass. We hardly ever drink, so it’s just sitting dead in the drinks cabinet —she insisted, making it clear that her nephew didn’t even try alcohol.

—Well, but only because it’s you. These things don’t sit well with me —Amparo replied before the incredulous eyes of her daughter.

One glass followed another, and alcohol takes its toll on anyone who isn’t used to it. For the first time in her life, Noelia was able to scold her mother without getting shushed or threatened with the slipper. Dizzy, Amparo wanted to go home to clear her head with a walk. And then Marisol’s mind forged an instant plan.

—I’ll walk with you; a bit of air would do me good too. We’ll leave the boys to clear the kitchen, and then I’ll tell Damián to walk the girl home.

The aunt and nephew exchanged a complicit look. The two women walked off arm in arm, and the young people were left alone with the dishes.

It took Damián less than two minutes to put his hands where they didn’t belong while Noelia washed some glasses.

—What are you doing? Your aunt will be back any minute and she might catch us —she protested, moving her hips, without much conviction.

—My aunt isn’t saying anything. She set all this up so your mother will look kindly on us —he murmured, kissing her neck, that spot he knew so well.

—Yeah, but neither of them knows we’ve already been sneaking around. Get your hands out of my skirt.

Damián didn’t listen. He knelt behind her, lifted her skirt, parted the fabric with agile fingers, and brought his face in close. His tongue did the rest, and her reproaches turned into sighs. Between glass and glass, one lick came and another went, until Noelia turned around and crouched down to return the favor with the boy’s cock in her mouth.

Ecstasy stopped time for the two of them. When she needed to feel him inside her, she stood up, braced her hands on the counter, and lifted one foot onto it.

—Fuck me —she asked.

Damián took her without ceremony, with an intensity that made her whole body shudder. Her legs trembled; she had to lower her foot and plant both on the floor, but even that didn’t stop them from shaking.

—Don’t stop… I’m going to come —she panted, while he held her by the hip with one hand and yanked her chestnut hair with the other, thrusting like a colt.

—What the hell is going on here!

The voice fell over them like a bucket of ice water. Both turned their heads toward the door. Marisol had caught them in the act. Noelia pushed Damián back and hurriedly fixed her clothes.

—Can you explain this to me? —the woman asked, eyes wide open and her accent thick with rage.

—Auntie, it’s not what it looks like —he stammered, pulling up his pants, already limp from the scare.

—Of course there’s an explanation, but how naive I was. You’re seeing each other, aren’t you? You’ve played me for a fool. Just wait until I tell your mother —Marisol said, pointing at the young woman.

—No, please, not my mother! —Noelia begged, pressing her hands together.

—You be quiet; I’ll deal with you later. And deal with you I will: I’m going to leave my slipper marked on your ass for a month —she roared, glaring at her nephew.

—I’m sorry, ma’am —the girl interjected, tears in her eyes—. We should have trusted you from the beginning. I’ll accept whatever punishment you want, whatever it is, but please don’t tell my mother. I beg you.

Marisol weighed the situation. Making those young cheeks dance to her tune did not displease her at all. And in her own way, that girl had also been deceived by her nephew the bastard.

—If you think this is going to be a walk in the park, you’re very much mistaken, young lady —she said, leaving a sliver of hope—. Both of you, into the living room. Damián already knows how you’re supposed to wait for me.

***

When she came back with two slippers in her hand, she found them in opposite corners of the living room, naked from the waist down, hands on their heads and faces against the wall. She made Damián place two chairs, one facing the other.

—Hands on the seat and your ass fully exposed. Both of you.

Noelia took her place first. Marisol stood almost behind her nephew, just enough for the girl to see how she bent her leg and slipped off her shoe. It was a bottle-green slipper, with a white, rough sole, the heel worn down. No testing was needed to know it would sting like the devil.

—You had me fooled so well, you bastard —she said, and then it started raining.

The sole outlined its shape on Damián’s backside, and he clenched his teeth after each blow, trying not to complain. He knew why she had said those words: she was wounded in her pride, and he had earned that beating through and through. Hit me hard, because this time I really deserve it, he told himself, letting a tear fall.

After twenty-five slipper swats, Marisol put that slipper back on and took the other off to face Noelia’s ass. The girl followed her with her eyes, swallowing hard.

—Aren’t you ashamed of how you used me? —And she brought it down.

—Ow! I’m sorry, ma’am, truly —the young woman cried out after the first impact. That woman hit just as hard as, if not harder than, her own mother.

—I’m going to leave your ass burning. You’d better behave, because if your mother sees it, let’s see how you explain who warmed you up like this.

Noelia was crying tears, her backside on fire. But she understood the warning was true: she would have to be careful in the days ahead.

Marisol gave her nephew a second round, and this time it only took three blows to wring an apology from him. The girl, however, she took pity on when she saw the fear on her face. You’ve been fooled too by that miserable excuse for a man, she thought, and you’ve taken the punishment like a lioness. You care a lot for this piece of trash.

—Damián, go to my room and bring me the belt from the suitcase —she ordered.

The boy came back with a leather belt three fingers wide that commanded respect at a glance. Noelia had moved her chair closer to his, adopting the punishment posture, both of them with their buttocks already red as ripe tomatoes.

—Crack! —The first for one. —Crack! —The second for the other. Two hard lashings that drew two thick lines across already bruised skin.

—Count and give thanks! —Marisol shouted.

—Two. Thank you, we won’t lie again —they said in unison.

Each of them took twenty-five belt lashes. Noelia rubbed her ass between blow and blow, but at no point did she ask him to stop. Damián scarcely dared once to reach back with his hands, pulling them away immediately as if it were forbidden. When it was over, Marisol felt their buttocks with the palm of her hand, checking where they were most bruised. The marks would take days to disappear, maybe weeks.

—Walk her home, in case anything happens. I want you here in ten minutes, not one more, or I’ll skin your ass again —she told her nephew.

The young couple dressed quickly and went out into the night. They didn’t say a word; with their eyes they said everything. Damián apologized with a kiss and sent her back home, knowing his aunt always carried out what she promised. When he returned, the house was silent. His bedroom was empty: that night Marisol would sleep alone in her room, and that hurt him more than any slipper. He understood the damage he had done to a woman who truly loved him, and he promised himself that the next day he would talk to both of them, separately, and explain everything. Even if that meant ending up with neither of them. There is nothing more stupid than human stupidity.