Soames's Submissives: Rina

Soames wondered some days if he should've gone into heating and air conditioning installation as his brother had. The field Soames had chosen, or that chose him, had its emotional rainy days.

Rina Blumenthal smiled at Soames uncertainly. She was unattractively attired in a velour pantsuit that did not well mask her forty "few extra pounds" as she probably presented it on OkCupid.

Rina put the envelope with Soames's tribute on the table.

"How did we do this week with the sentences?" Soames asked in a friendly way. "You had some messengered over to me yesterday, but there seemed to only be nine hundred seventy-one. I think we agreed on fifteen hundred by Wednesday, didn't we?"

Rina went into her voluminous handbag and pulled out a stack of greasy paper. She must've been on them all night, Soames noted with grim amusement; the lines under her eyes were ill concealed with grotesque Seventies eye shadow.

"I finished the last thirty in the back of the cab." Rina said proudly.

"And you didn't get your secretary to help this time? Ah, good girl."

"No, your punishment, Mr.Soames was so-and anyway I had to fire Marissa afterwards because I thought she'd tell everyone what the sentences were."

"Yes. 'I will refrain from being a vain sow today' might arouse some questions in the mind of any assistant." Soames said, as he lit a stogie. "Why don't you take off that hideous pantsuit, while I go over this week's lines."

Did she flinch? Rina spent thousands of dollars on clothing, sometimes going to Niemen-Marcus two or three times a week trying to find flattering apparel.

Soames sighed, and looked up at Rina, who was now naked, her hands crossed over her belly. The burns from last week's cigarette party still showed on her sagging breasts.

Last week, Soames had set up a fantasy Rina had had for some time...that she'd funded-hiring the sort of beautiful young women-the Mean Girls-five of them-in party dresses and heels.

They'd played a sort of cruel board game, with the board, the size of a small elevated dance floor, set out in Soames's living room.

The girls had contemptuously called Rina all sorts of cruel names, and when a girl, say, Taryn, tossed the dice, the number would signify a punishment to give poor Rina as she wobbled around the board on her hands and knees, naked of course, as the day she was born.

"C'mon, lard butt." Taryn had smiled, her long silver nails holding a small card. "This-aw, Kerri, you just caned her! I'd hoped to put out a ciggie on her inner thighs, or maybe the pliers on her clit, oh well.

Another whipping-oh, but I get to use the scourge this time, with the little metal stars on the end, that'll rip up your gross cheeks, won't it?"

And weeping, Rina would bend down and bury her face in her hands, while the laughing blonde thrashed Rina's enormous buttocks, again and again until she saw blood-Soames's rule.

That evening had ended with Rina frigging herself by rubbing her clit on a table leg, and then having another girl, Stephanie, slam her six inch black heel in and out of Rina's twat...but what an orgasm she'd had, her marked and welted body quivering as the Mean Girls had screamed insults at her...

Rina had always feared and hated the beautiful girls who had ridiculed her in high school and college, and had been invited to the prom as a joke by the high school quarterback.

Young Biff, who'd inveigled Rina to strip to her panties in the school's darkened audiovisual room, while the other kids were supposedly dancing...and of course he'd turned a huge light on her flailing naked, chubbiness as all the cool kids had laughed.

Soames was still trying to find this quarterback, as Rina had humiliation fantasies that needed to be worked on, God, the girl needed more bullying. What was it with these fat girls?

Soames had a tax attorney, Pauline, locked in a closet upstairs...she'd been in there since eight the previous evening, and was now hammering on the door upstairs dully, as she desperately needed to urinate.

Now, Soames shook his head and tsked. "Your handwriting is atrocious, and on line fourteen hundred thirty nine you misspelled 'cow'. And you have a PhD, Rina."

"I-I was so tired, my hands were in pain from writing, Mr.Soames-you only texted me the order forty-eight hours ago, sir."

"What can I do with this smudged mess?" Soames threw the pages down in disgust, shredding them with the tip of his boot as they lay on the floor. "The entire fifteen hundred again, on Saturday morning. You think your hands hurt? That's what you're whining about?"

Soames took a large steel ruler from the table.

"No-no please, Mr.Soames-not my hands. My palms were bleeding when you-when you-people at the office had questions."

Soames smiled cruelly. "I think I'll give you the same punishment Sister Mary Janice did, back in the day. One letter pencil, one letter ink. For the whole fifteen hundred sentences."

Rina sobbed, but held her palms out as Soames moved in, smiling. Later he would get the short dog-whip and make her dance...maybe lock her in the closet with Pauline. With the sweat of two fat girls, the closet would stink to high heaven, but what are you gonna do?