DCS Quaino loved DI Damptey’s big, overbearing body, her fat thighs and tremendous buttocks, and when she dressed in one of the dominatrix outfits her cousin had brought her from Amsterdam, he went crazy. Tonight, as she burst out of the bathroom in a red, see-through halter dress with strappy elastic webbed suspenders, black fishnet stockings, stiletto heels and a tiny triangle of black patent leather over the entrance to her pleasure grotto, Quaino’s eyeballs almost exploded from their sockets and he gurgled with excitement. For what had seemed an eternity, he had been lying on the bed waiting for her to emerge in all her glory. They had checked into Labadi Beach Hotel early that evening, he into 321, she into 418, and then he had joined her in her room. As far as their respective spouses were concerned, the two officers were on a highly confidential stakeout that was likely to go all night—don’t wait up.

And Doris had a black whip. My God, that whip made Quaino’s heart beat as if it was trying to break out of his chest. He lay spread-eagled on the bed in his boxers watching her every move as she sashayed around the bed. Her body was bursting out of its outfit—not in a curvy way, but as an undifferentiated mass of flesh, and he loved it.

She stood at the side of the bed and gave him a poke in the ribs with the end of her whip. “You may speak.”

“Yes please, my Queen.”

“Heh!” she snapped. “So, you don’t know how to address me? How do you address me?”

“Em, is it my Queen?” he said, cringing.

“Your Majesty!” she bellowed.

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty. Please, I’m sorry. I beg you, don’t punish me, Your Majesty.”

“You will have to be punished,” she sneered. “You must be punished.”

“I beg you, oo, Your Majesty! I beg you.”

“I will whip you very well on your bottom.”

“Ohh, no please. Your Majesty. Have mercy on me.”

“Turn over on your stomach. Hurry up! I said, turn over.”

Whimpering, he obeyed.

“Pull down your shorts, you miserable subject!”

He shimmied out of them, exposing his round, bulbous buttocks.

“How do you call me?” she growled.

“Your Highness.”

“No!” She struck him across the buttocks, and he jumped and cried out. “How do you call me?”

“Your Lordship.”

Whack!

“My Queen.”

Whack! Whack!

Quaino howled in exquisite ecstasy. “My Lady.”

She hit him again and again. He was sobbing and laughing at the same time. “No please, please, please.”

“Turn over,” she commanded.

“Yes please. Your Majesty.”

“Ei!” she exclaimed as he faced upward. “Did I permit you to display such an egregious erection of your male organ?”

“No,” he stammered. “No please, Your Majesty.”

“What is this thing, eh?” she said, softly stroking his tumescence. “I think I have to punish it. How should I punish it?”