Scenario; What if we slapped Johnny's ass? What would he do?
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You couldn't help yourself.
Johnny was working on your car at the gas station, leaning over as he checked under your hood. You felt like he was giving you a whole damn show; his ass was so fucking perfect it was as if Michaelangelo himself had chiseled it out of marble.
When he reached to remove the broken part of your car, you resolved that there could be no finer specimen of a man's ass. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and slapped it. Hard. He froze as it reverberated with the slap for a moment, and you practically drooled on yourself watching.
You only tore your eyes away when he turned to meet your eyes, a look of pure disbelief plastered on his face.
"Did you just…?" He trailed off, furrowing his brow and cocking his head.
"I'm so sorry!" You sputtered, blushing deeply. "I couldn't stop myself, you're just so fucking fine."
Johnny looked incredulous for a moment longer before his expression completely shifted. He was smiling, jovial, even.
"You think I'm fine, huh?" He said, stepping toward you while wiping off his hands on an oily rag.
You shrunk as he approached, but nodded in response. He stopped in front of you, inches away, that same smile plastered on his face. "You want a piece of Johnny, hm?" He asked, throwing the greasy rag over his shoulder. "Answer me."
"I- yeah?" You say nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead.
Johnny turned around, sauntered over to the garage door, and pulled it closed with a WHAM. You heard the sound of his buckle being undone, and your panties practically dropped to the floor.
"Take your pants off," he ordered with his back still to you. You obeyed, stripping down. He turned around, and wrapped his brown leather belt over his gloved hand, pulling it taut.
You instantly realized what he was planning.
"I'm sorry, Johnny, I swear I won't do it again!" You said, shivering though it was fairly hot in the garage.
Johnny smirked and walked up to you, towering over you. One hand moved to the hood of your car and slammed it shut. His eyes never once left yours.
"Bend over the hood," he said. His tone left no room for negotiation. You swallowed then turned around, doing as he said.
Your hands stretched out over the hood of your car, the cool metal making you tremble harder. Johnny chuckled.
"You gon' be shaking worse than that when I'm done with ya, sweetpea." He snapped the leather belt in his hands, and you flinched, your eyes closing involuntarily.
"Nobody treats Johnny like a piece 'a ass," he said, slowly dragging the cold buckle of the belt along your spine. "Understood?"
You nodded frantically. "Yes, sir!"
Johnny smirked. "Sir? I ain't no sir." He reached your ass with the buckle and withdrew, wrapping the leather around his fist again.
He pressed his body into you as he leaned over, his breath hot against your ear. "Master's more like it."
The hard length in his pants was impossible to ignore as it rammed up against your backside, and you couldn't help but wiggle against him. "Yes, Master," you panted.
He hummed his approval a bit before withdrawing, and gripping your hip with one hand, oil slicking your skin from the dirty glove.
CRACK!
You let out a breathless yelp as the leather met the soft flesh of your ass.
"How do you like it, huh?" He asked, pacing behind you before bringing the belt down again.
You burst into tears, shaking your head frantically.
"Oh? You don't like it?" He said in a pouty tone. "Well, that's too damn bad, sugar." He clapped the leather against your now-bruised skin a third time, and you squeaked a hoarse cry from between clenched teeth.
"Please, Johnny!" Your hands balled into fists and you pounded the hood of the car as your ass throbbed, black and blue welts forming against your flesh.
He whipped you again, this time against your lower back. "You dumb broad, what did I just tell you?'
"Master! I'm sorry!" You wailed.
"You better learn some respect, slut. I could do much worse," he threatened, and brought down the belt again. This time, the buckle sliced into your lower back, sending warm blood trickling down your side.
You wince, groaning. He pulled his glove off then traced two fingers from your hip up to your back, bringing the bloodied digits to his lips. You were too weak to turn around, but you heard the sound of him sucking your blood from his fingers.
"You know, for a whore, you taste real sweet. Might need ta keep ya around a bit longer," he commented before backing up and slapping your ass with his bare hand, backhanding the other cheek, then slapping you again directly over the worst of the bruising and squeezing so hard you wailed.
He then grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you off the hood of your car. He took your keys off the toolbox beside him and threw them at your feet, right in front of where your pants were pooled around your ankles.
"Cars fixed. Get the fuck out of here," he said.
You tried to bend down to get the keys, but you were so weak you fell to your knees as he opened the garage, exposing your pathetic form to the main road.
He sneered, using the toe of his boot to pick your chin up and force you to look at him. "You're gonna be a good girl and come see Johnny again soon, yeah? I'm not through with you yet."
Wracked with pain, all you could do was nod as the words, "Yes, Master," slipped from your lips, and you crumpled to the dirty floor of the garage.
"Ah, shit," you heard Johnny curse as your consciousness faded and your eyes slid shut, darkness enveloping you and finally drowning out the agony.
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