Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
An Evening's Romp
Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things I'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.
My Master is an ass man, hands-down, no contest. He loves it, adores it, can't get enough of it. And I, though late to the party, am warming up to the idea. He also says that I am a "good little cocksucker." Part of me feels like I should be insulted, but part of me is pleased by the compliment.
Take last night, for example. As he does quite often, Master summons me with a succinct text message: I will arrive at 8 p.m. Be ready.
And so I scurry to be ready on time - making sure I'm freshly shaved and lotioned, putting clean sheets on the bed, placing a large candle and matches on the bedside table. Then I touch up my makeup, and change into Master's preferred "uniform" - plain white cotton panties and a white tank top. By 7:30, I'm ready. And the waiting begins.
I pick up a book - I'm currently reading Oh, Myyy! There Goes the Internet, by George Takei. It's nothing too heavy, and I find it entertaining. But my eyes keep straying to the clock. 7:42. 7:51. 7:56. I put the book down, and try to calm my frantic heartbeat.
At 8:07 there's a decisive knock on the door, and I hurry to open it, to allow Master entrance. I step to the side so he can enter, then close the door behind it. I lean back against the door, both hands behind my back, palms flat against the wood, and simply look at him.
He gazes back.
My heart is racing again, and I swallow nervously.
"Hello, Kitten," he says.
"Hello, Master," I reply.
"Down."
I drop to my knees before him, my head bowed, and wait. His hand comes to rest on top of my head.
"Take me to bed," he says, and I get to my feet and grasp his hand, linking my fingers with his, then lead him down the hall to the bedroom. I stop at the foot of the bed, turning to face him and letting go of his hand. He cups my chin in his palm and leans down to kiss me. Mmm. When he draws away, he turns his mouth to my ear, and softly says, "Position 3."
I pull the tank top off over my head and shimmy out of my panties, then stand naked before him, my feet slightly parted, my hands tucked behind my back, my face forward, eyes straight ahead. Right now I have a close-up view of the front of his shirt.
He slides his fingers through my hair, then down my face, across my shoulder, down my chest and cups my breast in his hand. His thumb strokes the nipple, back and forth, teasing it to a taut peak. My lips part on a gasp as he plays, sending a shiver through me. His other hand comes up, then, and cups my other breast, so that both hands are busy squeezing and stroking and teasing. He pinches one nipple, and I flinch.
"So responsive," he murmurs. I keep quiet, save for the little moan that breaks through my lips.
He steps back, and I risk a glance at his face. He's watching me, a tiny smile quirking his lips. I watch as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, eagerly waiting for each bit of skin to be revealed (have I mentioned that I love skin?). Once all the buttons are open, he lets it slide down his arms and fall o the floor, then reaches to unzip his shorts and step out of his pants. He walks around me and I can hear him get on the bed, hear as he shifts around to a comfortable position. But I haven't been told to move, yet, so I remain in place, staring at the wall.
And then, he speaks. "Come here."
I turn, dropping my arms to my sides, and walk to the side of the bed, where I stop and wait for further instructions. He rolls completely to his back and grabs a pillow, putting it under his head, then draws up his left leg, leaving the right leg flat on the bed.
"I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock."
I climb up on the bed next to him, my arms straddling his right leg as I lean down and pull his cock into my mouth. His scent floods my nose, his taste dances on my tongue as I move my head, working his shaft with my tongue and lips, sucking him as he hardens in my mouth. When fully erect, he's too big for me to take, so I use this time before he's totally hard to swallow him to the root. I know he likes that. I shift on my knees, seeking a more comfortable position for my hands, but I don't dare pull my mouth away from him. I suckle his cock, lapping my tongue over it, and now he is too big. I cup his balls in my palm and am rewarded by his deep groan.
I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and pump him firmly as I suck him, and he shifts his hips and sucks in a breath. My jaw is beginning to ache, now, but I don't want to quit. He thrusts up into my mouth, forcing his cock to the back of my throat, and I gag, hard, my stomach contracting so that I fear I may vomit. It settles down in the next moment, though, so I ignore it and keep sucking him, my fingers squeezing and pumping, his shaft so hot and hard and silky.
He tells me to stop then, and I pull away and look at him questioningly. Then he says, "I want my cock in my ass. Now."
I scramble off the bed to retrieve the lube from the dresser drawer, then return to his side, shaking the bottle and squeezing a good-sized dollop into my palm. I rub my palms together to warm it, then apply the lube to his cock, using the act to indulge myself a little, enjoying the heavy feel of his cock in my hands. Oh, yeah, I like that. Eventually, though, I can't delay any more, and I reluctantly pull my hands away. I start to get on my hands and knees, but he stops me - he wants me to top.
I crawl over his legs and get up on my knees, facing his feet. He likes when I ride him backwards like this. I line up over him, and he grasps his cock with one hand, gripping my hip with the other to steady me in place. I know it's going to be tight, and it's going to hurt, especially as I've had no preparation at all this evening. But that's all right; Master has never really hurt me, and I trust that he will not this time.
I feel the tip of his cock probing at my opening, seeking to push past that tight ring of muscle. I take a deep breath, then let it out, trying to relax. This is always tricky, as he pushes his way inside me. And honestly, I never know what to do with my hands, and I'm never quite sure how to help him, but I lean forward, or back, or press down, or shift my legs, and - damn! That hurt, that hurt, fuck. Oowww. Deep breath, pay attention, try again.
He changes the angle, somehow, makes me turn to the side a little, and - yes, that's better. I feel his cock as it breaches me, pressing in deeper, and it burns, and stretches, and burns some more, but it's better, not so painful. I let out a breath on a moan, and some of it is discomfort, yes, but some of it feels good, too. He grabs my arms and pulls them toward him, making me arch my back, and yes, all right, his cock slips in deeper, stretching me wide, feeling it burn as his cock pushes in farther. He drops my arms, and one hand grabs my knee, tugging me so I turn to the side a bit more, and that's better yet. His cock slides all the way in, now, so I'm sitting right down on his hips. God, I feel every hot, hard, insistent inch of him, and I drop my head back and arch my back, letting out a moan as my body adjusts to him.
And then, he starts to move, thrusting his hips up, and his cock slides in and out of my ass. And now I'm beginning to see the appeal, as it's starting to feel really good. He fucks me faster, now, as much as he can while I'm sitting on top of him, and I try and match his movements as best I can. His grip on my knee tightens, almost painfully, pulling me to the side even a little bit more, and I rock atop him, feeling his cock as it pumps in and out, as he fucks his ass, uses it, owns it, makes it his. And it's good.
"Tell me," he says.
"Ah, you feel good, Master, your cock fills me up and you're so hot, and hard, and ungh, yes, that's really good..." I am panting, and a trickle of sweat slides down the side of my face.
"Touch yourself, " he pants. "I want you to cum for me - but not until I say."
"Yes, Master." It's hard to get the words out, but I'm sure he understands.
I reach down between my legs, and rub my clit. Mmm. It's a bit of a challenge to coordinate my motions with the timing of Master's thrusts, but after several moments I figure it out. I dip two fingers into my pussy to gather the juices there, and wow, it's a really tight fit, as my ass is so, so full with Master's cock. As my fingers dance over my clit, my heart rate increases, my head drops back, my voice becomes a near-constant moan. My inner walls suddenly contract, a precursor of my impending climax, but I recall Master's directive, and slow my fingers, backing away from orgasm. But it hovers there, not far off, waiting ....
Master grabs my hip and picks up his pace, fucking my ass hard and fast, and his breathing becomes irregular and harsh. Against my conscious will, my fingers circle my clit faster, more firmly, and I let out a soft cry as another tremor shudders through my body.
"You don't cum until I say, do you hear me? Don't you dare."
I nod, but realize he may not be looking, so I choke out a verbal, "Yes, Master."
But, oh, God, I'm so close, so close, and I'm having trouble holding it off.
"Who owns you? Who is your Master?"
My voice is shaky. "You are! You are my Master. Only you."
"Yesss, I am your Master." His voice is a hiss. "And who are you?"
"I'm your sub, Master. Your sub, your property, your whore, your c-cunt." I almost can't say it. I hate that word, but more than that, I am coming dangerously close to losing control. I bite my lip, then let out another cry as I shudder. Fuck, it's too close, it's too much -
"Yes, I am Master, and I own you, all of you, don't I, Kitten? I own it all."
"Yes! Yes, Master. I'm yours!"
His voice is firm, commanding. "Cum for me. Now."
I grind my fingers into my clit and then, my body snaps forward - well, as much as it can with my Master holding my knee and my hip. My climax slams over me, pulling a wail from me as my body shudders and clenches down and my muscles all contract. Beneath me, Master slams into me once more, and then his cock erupts, spilling his cum into my ass, and I feel the hot spurts as they fill my ass. And I feel it as his copious spunk leaks out around his cock, too, dripping down my legs and beneath my ass, across his stomach. When the intense wave passes, I slump forward, panting, my hands braced on his legs. I can't move, even though my legs ache and my ass is stretched and sore, and my body is trembling in the aftermath of my release.
I feel Master slowly begin to relax beneath me, and I lean all the way forward and rest my forehead on Master's knee. I'm panting, still, though my breaths are coming easier now, and my heart rate is slowly returning to normal. Master's fingers on my knee relax, then drop away, and I take that as my cue to move. I pull my self up on my knees, and Master's cock slips out and pops free, and I wince at the little flare of pain which shoots up my spine. I maneuver myself around and bend down to pull his still-erect cock into my mouth, cleaning it for him, suckling it until all traces of his cum are gone. He relaxes into the mattress with a sigh, and I climb off the bed on shaky legs and go to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Returning to Master, I gently wash him off, running the cloth over his stomach, inside his thighs, around his balls and then, finally, along his cock. I go back to the bathroom and toss the cloth into the sink, then one more return to Master's side, where I stretch out on the bed beside him.
His hand strokes my back in long, gentle motions, and it feels soooo good, all warm and relaxing and protective and safe, and before I know it, my eyes have drooped shut. Just before I fall asleep, I swear I hear him say, "Mine," and I smile.
My Master is an ass man, hands-down, no contest. He loves it, adores it, can't get enough of it. And I, though late to the party, am warming up to the idea. He also says that I am a "good little cocksucker." Part of me feels like I should be insulted, but part of me is pleased by the compliment.
Take last night, for example. As he does quite often, Master summons me with a succinct text message: I will arrive at 8 p.m. Be ready.
And so I scurry to be ready on time - making sure I'm freshly shaved and lotioned, putting clean sheets on the bed, placing a large candle and matches on the bedside table. Then I touch up my makeup, and change into Master's preferred "uniform" - plain white cotton panties and a white tank top. By 7:30, I'm ready. And the waiting begins.
I pick up a book - I'm currently reading Oh, Myyy! There Goes the Internet, by George Takei. It's nothing too heavy, and I find it entertaining. But my eyes keep straying to the clock. 7:42. 7:51. 7:56. I put the book down, and try to calm my frantic heartbeat.
At 8:07 there's a decisive knock on the door, and I hurry to open it, to allow Master entrance. I step to the side so he can enter, then close the door behind it. I lean back against the door, both hands behind my back, palms flat against the wood, and simply look at him.
He gazes back.
My heart is racing again, and I swallow nervously.
"Hello, Kitten," he says.
"Hello, Master," I reply.
"Down."
I drop to my knees before him, my head bowed, and wait. His hand comes to rest on top of my head.
"Take me to bed," he says, and I get to my feet and grasp his hand, linking my fingers with his, then lead him down the hall to the bedroom. I stop at the foot of the bed, turning to face him and letting go of his hand. He cups my chin in his palm and leans down to kiss me. Mmm. When he draws away, he turns his mouth to my ear, and softly says, "Position 3."
I pull the tank top off over my head and shimmy out of my panties, then stand naked before him, my feet slightly parted, my hands tucked behind my back, my face forward, eyes straight ahead. Right now I have a close-up view of the front of his shirt.
He slides his fingers through my hair, then down my face, across my shoulder, down my chest and cups my breast in his hand. His thumb strokes the nipple, back and forth, teasing it to a taut peak. My lips part on a gasp as he plays, sending a shiver through me. His other hand comes up, then, and cups my other breast, so that both hands are busy squeezing and stroking and teasing. He pinches one nipple, and I flinch.
"So responsive," he murmurs. I keep quiet, save for the little moan that breaks through my lips.
He steps back, and I risk a glance at his face. He's watching me, a tiny smile quirking his lips. I watch as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, eagerly waiting for each bit of skin to be revealed (have I mentioned that I love skin?). Once all the buttons are open, he lets it slide down his arms and fall o the floor, then reaches to unzip his shorts and step out of his pants. He walks around me and I can hear him get on the bed, hear as he shifts around to a comfortable position. But I haven't been told to move, yet, so I remain in place, staring at the wall.
And then, he speaks. "Come here."
I turn, dropping my arms to my sides, and walk to the side of the bed, where I stop and wait for further instructions. He rolls completely to his back and grabs a pillow, putting it under his head, then draws up his left leg, leaving the right leg flat on the bed.
"I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock."
I climb up on the bed next to him, my arms straddling his right leg as I lean down and pull his cock into my mouth. His scent floods my nose, his taste dances on my tongue as I move my head, working his shaft with my tongue and lips, sucking him as he hardens in my mouth. When fully erect, he's too big for me to take, so I use this time before he's totally hard to swallow him to the root. I know he likes that. I shift on my knees, seeking a more comfortable position for my hands, but I don't dare pull my mouth away from him. I suckle his cock, lapping my tongue over it, and now he is too big. I cup his balls in my palm and am rewarded by his deep groan.
I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and pump him firmly as I suck him, and he shifts his hips and sucks in a breath. My jaw is beginning to ache, now, but I don't want to quit. He thrusts up into my mouth, forcing his cock to the back of my throat, and I gag, hard, my stomach contracting so that I fear I may vomit. It settles down in the next moment, though, so I ignore it and keep sucking him, my fingers squeezing and pumping, his shaft so hot and hard and silky.
He tells me to stop then, and I pull away and look at him questioningly. Then he says, "I want my cock in my ass. Now."
I scramble off the bed to retrieve the lube from the dresser drawer, then return to his side, shaking the bottle and squeezing a good-sized dollop into my palm. I rub my palms together to warm it, then apply the lube to his cock, using the act to indulge myself a little, enjoying the heavy feel of his cock in my hands. Oh, yeah, I like that. Eventually, though, I can't delay any more, and I reluctantly pull my hands away. I start to get on my hands and knees, but he stops me - he wants me to top.
I crawl over his legs and get up on my knees, facing his feet. He likes when I ride him backwards like this. I line up over him, and he grasps his cock with one hand, gripping my hip with the other to steady me in place. I know it's going to be tight, and it's going to hurt, especially as I've had no preparation at all this evening. But that's all right; Master has never really hurt me, and I trust that he will not this time.
I feel the tip of his cock probing at my opening, seeking to push past that tight ring of muscle. I take a deep breath, then let it out, trying to relax. This is always tricky, as he pushes his way inside me. And honestly, I never know what to do with my hands, and I'm never quite sure how to help him, but I lean forward, or back, or press down, or shift my legs, and - damn! That hurt, that hurt, fuck. Oowww. Deep breath, pay attention, try again.
He changes the angle, somehow, makes me turn to the side a little, and - yes, that's better. I feel his cock as it breaches me, pressing in deeper, and it burns, and stretches, and burns some more, but it's better, not so painful. I let out a breath on a moan, and some of it is discomfort, yes, but some of it feels good, too. He grabs my arms and pulls them toward him, making me arch my back, and yes, all right, his cock slips in deeper, stretching me wide, feeling it burn as his cock pushes in farther. He drops my arms, and one hand grabs my knee, tugging me so I turn to the side a bit more, and that's better yet. His cock slides all the way in, now, so I'm sitting right down on his hips. God, I feel every hot, hard, insistent inch of him, and I drop my head back and arch my back, letting out a moan as my body adjusts to him.
And then, he starts to move, thrusting his hips up, and his cock slides in and out of my ass. And now I'm beginning to see the appeal, as it's starting to feel really good. He fucks me faster, now, as much as he can while I'm sitting on top of him, and I try and match his movements as best I can. His grip on my knee tightens, almost painfully, pulling me to the side even a little bit more, and I rock atop him, feeling his cock as it pumps in and out, as he fucks his ass, uses it, owns it, makes it his. And it's good.
"Tell me," he says.
"Ah, you feel good, Master, your cock fills me up and you're so hot, and hard, and ungh, yes, that's really good..." I am panting, and a trickle of sweat slides down the side of my face.
"Touch yourself, " he pants. "I want you to cum for me - but not until I say."
"Yes, Master." It's hard to get the words out, but I'm sure he understands.
I reach down between my legs, and rub my clit. Mmm. It's a bit of a challenge to coordinate my motions with the timing of Master's thrusts, but after several moments I figure it out. I dip two fingers into my pussy to gather the juices there, and wow, it's a really tight fit, as my ass is so, so full with Master's cock. As my fingers dance over my clit, my heart rate increases, my head drops back, my voice becomes a near-constant moan. My inner walls suddenly contract, a precursor of my impending climax, but I recall Master's directive, and slow my fingers, backing away from orgasm. But it hovers there, not far off, waiting ....
Master grabs my hip and picks up his pace, fucking my ass hard and fast, and his breathing becomes irregular and harsh. Against my conscious will, my fingers circle my clit faster, more firmly, and I let out a soft cry as another tremor shudders through my body.
"You don't cum until I say, do you hear me? Don't you dare."
I nod, but realize he may not be looking, so I choke out a verbal, "Yes, Master."
But, oh, God, I'm so close, so close, and I'm having trouble holding it off.
"Who owns you? Who is your Master?"
My voice is shaky. "You are! You are my Master. Only you."
"Yesss, I am your Master." His voice is a hiss. "And who are you?"
"I'm your sub, Master. Your sub, your property, your whore, your c-cunt." I almost can't say it. I hate that word, but more than that, I am coming dangerously close to losing control. I bite my lip, then let out another cry as I shudder. Fuck, it's too close, it's too much -
"Yes, I am Master, and I own you, all of you, don't I, Kitten? I own it all."
"Yes! Yes, Master. I'm yours!"
His voice is firm, commanding. "Cum for me. Now."
I grind my fingers into my clit and then, my body snaps forward - well, as much as it can with my Master holding my knee and my hip. My climax slams over me, pulling a wail from me as my body shudders and clenches down and my muscles all contract. Beneath me, Master slams into me once more, and then his cock erupts, spilling his cum into my ass, and I feel the hot spurts as they fill my ass. And I feel it as his copious spunk leaks out around his cock, too, dripping down my legs and beneath my ass, across his stomach. When the intense wave passes, I slump forward, panting, my hands braced on his legs. I can't move, even though my legs ache and my ass is stretched and sore, and my body is trembling in the aftermath of my release.
I feel Master slowly begin to relax beneath me, and I lean all the way forward and rest my forehead on Master's knee. I'm panting, still, though my breaths are coming easier now, and my heart rate is slowly returning to normal. Master's fingers on my knee relax, then drop away, and I take that as my cue to move. I pull my self up on my knees, and Master's cock slips out and pops free, and I wince at the little flare of pain which shoots up my spine. I maneuver myself around and bend down to pull his still-erect cock into my mouth, cleaning it for him, suckling it until all traces of his cum are gone. He relaxes into the mattress with a sigh, and I climb off the bed on shaky legs and go to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Returning to Master, I gently wash him off, running the cloth over his stomach, inside his thighs, around his balls and then, finally, along his cock. I go back to the bathroom and toss the cloth into the sink, then one more return to Master's side, where I stretch out on the bed beside him.
His hand strokes my back in long, gentle motions, and it feels soooo good, all warm and relaxing and protective and safe, and before I know it, my eyes have drooped shut. Just before I fall asleep, I swear I hear him say, "Mine," and I smile.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Crime and Punishment
There's a sharp whistle, then a crack, and I cry out as the cane stripes my ass cheek. Damn, that hurts! Tears leak from my eyes at the lingering pain. That makes six strikes, and Master told me there would be an even dozen as payment for my transgression. We are halfway there.....
(2 hours earlier)
Master and I were in session, and I had been looking forward to it. His first word to me, on this day, when he walked through the door was "Down." I complied immediately, and his fingers combed through my hair as he said hello. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the caress, and then he grasped my chin and tipped my head back. When I met his eyes, he smiled.
"I'm very glad to see you, Master. I've missed you," I told him.
"Have you?" he asked.
"Yes, Master, I have," I said.
I assumed Position 2 at his command (sitting up tall on my knees, my fingers laced together behind my head) while he walked around me, inspecting me, making sure I had obeyed his directive. I was freshly shaved, clad in my black mesh, crotchless body stocking. The opening nicely frames Master's tattoo, proclaiming my position as a submissive. I passed inspection, and Master took me by the hand and led me to the bed. There I sucked his cock, gagging and choking but doing my best to take him, to please him, and he rewarded me by allowing me to have and swallow his cum. The day was off to a great start.
Once he'd caught his breath, he pushed me to my back and used his mouth to drive me to the edge of orgasm. His teeth nipped my skin; his tongue licked and lapped and traced trails up and down my body; his lips laid kisses on my chest, my ribs, my inner thighs. I sighed and squirmed and moaned and pleaded, and then he added his fingers, pressing them inside my pussy, twisting and thrusting and pumping, and then he ordered me not to cum. Not! God damn, I was so close! But I bit my lip, and tightened my muscles, and writhed with the effort to deny my body the release it was so near to achieving, all to earn my Master's continued approval.
And as I lay there, panting and squirming and fighting so hard to obey, my Master began talking to me, laying out his claim and his ownership of me. He has taken this tack with me before, so I wasn't exactly caught off guard. But it does make it damned difficult to fully hear what he's saying, when so much of my focus is wrapped up in staving off my climax.
"Who owns you?" he asked me. "Who is your Master? Who brings you this pleasure, allows you to serve him? who do you belong to?"
"You! You, Master. You own me."
"Yes, I do, don't I, Kitten? I own you, wholly, completely, and you will do what I say, won't you? Won't my sub obey what her Master says?"
I gave a choked cry and swallowed hard, sucking in a deep breath before I answered. I was trembling right on that knife's edge, right there, and I was afraid I would not be able to hold off any longer. But before I could get a word out, he was speaking.
"And since I do own you, own this body, I can do with it as I please, correct? Use it, mark it, bruise it, share it, isn't that right?"
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. SHARE it? No. No no, no. We have had this discussion before, and no. I am vehemently opposed to the sharing of this body. I have said, over and over, that I will not be passed around like a bag of chips at a party, thank you very much. I am willing to be a whore to him, but only to him.
I can only describe what happened next as, I lost it. Big time. Instead of respectfully voicing a concern, and waiting for acknowledgement of a legitimate objection, I dared to knock his hand away and scramble off the bed, then stood there, panting, all angry and defiant.
"Absolutely not! Not gonna happen." And I went so far as to cross my arms and glare.
Oh, boy. Big, BIG, mistake. He lunged up, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back down to the bed so fast I yelped in surprise. And then he leaned over me, and his face was so close, and so thunderous, that my heart began to pound in fright. For the first time, I was afraid of him. He was furious with me.
"Don't you ever, EVER, do that again, do you hear me?" he hissed. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed, my heart beating frantically. "If you have a concern, you bring it up in a respectful way. Was what you did respectful?"
I swallowed, then shook my head. "No, Master," I whispered.
"No, it was not," he said. "You chose this, don't forget. You willingly gave yourself to me, and you asked me to teach you."
I nodded, ashamed of myself. Yes, I could have - and should have - waited to address my objections. Instead, I was a brat. And I am in big trouble. I drop my eyes, and twist my head to the side.
"I'm sorry, Master," I said, quietly. "We have been over this before, and I was angry that you were forcing it on me."
"Angry or not, you behaved badly," he said. I could only nod and apologize, again. We stayed in silence for several minutes, perhaps 10, maybe as many as 15. It grew uncomfortable, but I didn't dare say anything.
"We will definitely be discussing this, have no doubt," he said. I nodded, again. I was beginning to feel like a bobble-head doll. Now that my initial anger and outrage were fading, I felt like a fool. I'm a grown-up, for God's sake; I don't have to throw a tantrum to be heard.
He pulled away from me a little bit, pinning me with his eyes. "You do realize you've earned a punishment, don't you." It was not a question. Oh, yes, I know.
"Go retrieve my cane."
And so here we are, halfway through my punishment of 12 lashes. I am in Position 3, standing with my back to Master, while he lets the cane fly and lays stripes on my ass. Now to be very fair, he is not just beating me; he has promised to never cause me true harm, and I have not lost that trust in his word. He IS, however, making very sure to let the heavy sting of the rattan strike me in the most tender of places. God, this hurts so much! And I brought it all on myself.
Thwack! There's number seven. I flinch and groan, but I don't break my stance. I have 5 to go, and I am determined to accept my punishment with grace. It's difficult, though, when my ass feels like it's on fire, and the burning shame of his disapproval hurts nearly as much as my bruising flesh. With the next blow, the tears come faster, flowing down my face to drip from my chin. My nose is starting to run, too, which just adds to my misery.
Two more blows assault my skin, and I am sobbing in earnest. This is so, so hard! Two to go, I tell myself, but it is small consolation at this point. I want nothing more than to curl up on my bed and cry. The eleventh stripe lands on my upper thigh, and I shriek, because fuck, that hurts so much. I bounce on my toes a little, wanting him to just hurry up and be done, already, please. And then, finally, at last, the twelfth and final strike lands, crossing at least one earlier stripe, and I drop my head to my chin and just cry and cry.
His hand touches my ass, and a flare of such pain courses through me that I flinch violently, almost losing my balance. He tells me to relax my stance, and turn to face him, so I drop my hands to my sides and turn, slowly, to stand before him, chastised and sore and repentant. I scrub at my face with my hands to wipe away the tears, and sniffle.
His voice is gentle. "Look at me."
I very nearly can't; I am so ashamed, and in such pain, and feeling so very small and stupid and wrong-footed.
"Are you done with this behavior? That -" he indicates the cane, now lying innocently at his feet - "that was not fun for me, either."
I have no response for that, so I remain quiet, and sniffle again.
"This cannot happen again, do you understand me?" He is not threatening me, just very matter-of-fact. I know I was out of control, and I feel so lost and uncertain. And then he takes my hand.
"It's over now," he says. "Come lie down, and we'll see where we go from here."
I walk, slowly, gingerly, to the side of the bed and carefully position myself on my side. He reaches over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I take his hand, and kiss it. We will get past my misdeed, and I have learned a lesson. I have no doubt we will disagree in the future - it's inevitable - but I know what will happen if I act out instead of being respectful and courteous. It's a painful lesson, to be sure, but one which I will remember for a very long time.
(2 hours earlier)
Master and I were in session, and I had been looking forward to it. His first word to me, on this day, when he walked through the door was "Down." I complied immediately, and his fingers combed through my hair as he said hello. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the caress, and then he grasped my chin and tipped my head back. When I met his eyes, he smiled.
"I'm very glad to see you, Master. I've missed you," I told him.
"Have you?" he asked.
"Yes, Master, I have," I said.
I assumed Position 2 at his command (sitting up tall on my knees, my fingers laced together behind my head) while he walked around me, inspecting me, making sure I had obeyed his directive. I was freshly shaved, clad in my black mesh, crotchless body stocking. The opening nicely frames Master's tattoo, proclaiming my position as a submissive. I passed inspection, and Master took me by the hand and led me to the bed. There I sucked his cock, gagging and choking but doing my best to take him, to please him, and he rewarded me by allowing me to have and swallow his cum. The day was off to a great start.
Once he'd caught his breath, he pushed me to my back and used his mouth to drive me to the edge of orgasm. His teeth nipped my skin; his tongue licked and lapped and traced trails up and down my body; his lips laid kisses on my chest, my ribs, my inner thighs. I sighed and squirmed and moaned and pleaded, and then he added his fingers, pressing them inside my pussy, twisting and thrusting and pumping, and then he ordered me not to cum. Not! God damn, I was so close! But I bit my lip, and tightened my muscles, and writhed with the effort to deny my body the release it was so near to achieving, all to earn my Master's continued approval.
And as I lay there, panting and squirming and fighting so hard to obey, my Master began talking to me, laying out his claim and his ownership of me. He has taken this tack with me before, so I wasn't exactly caught off guard. But it does make it damned difficult to fully hear what he's saying, when so much of my focus is wrapped up in staving off my climax.
"Who owns you?" he asked me. "Who is your Master? Who brings you this pleasure, allows you to serve him? who do you belong to?"
"You! You, Master. You own me."
"Yes, I do, don't I, Kitten? I own you, wholly, completely, and you will do what I say, won't you? Won't my sub obey what her Master says?"
I gave a choked cry and swallowed hard, sucking in a deep breath before I answered. I was trembling right on that knife's edge, right there, and I was afraid I would not be able to hold off any longer. But before I could get a word out, he was speaking.
"And since I do own you, own this body, I can do with it as I please, correct? Use it, mark it, bruise it, share it, isn't that right?"
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. SHARE it? No. No no, no. We have had this discussion before, and no. I am vehemently opposed to the sharing of this body. I have said, over and over, that I will not be passed around like a bag of chips at a party, thank you very much. I am willing to be a whore to him, but only to him.
I can only describe what happened next as, I lost it. Big time. Instead of respectfully voicing a concern, and waiting for acknowledgement of a legitimate objection, I dared to knock his hand away and scramble off the bed, then stood there, panting, all angry and defiant.
"Absolutely not! Not gonna happen." And I went so far as to cross my arms and glare.
Oh, boy. Big, BIG, mistake. He lunged up, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back down to the bed so fast I yelped in surprise. And then he leaned over me, and his face was so close, and so thunderous, that my heart began to pound in fright. For the first time, I was afraid of him. He was furious with me.
"Don't you ever, EVER, do that again, do you hear me?" he hissed. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed, my heart beating frantically. "If you have a concern, you bring it up in a respectful way. Was what you did respectful?"
I swallowed, then shook my head. "No, Master," I whispered.
"No, it was not," he said. "You chose this, don't forget. You willingly gave yourself to me, and you asked me to teach you."
I nodded, ashamed of myself. Yes, I could have - and should have - waited to address my objections. Instead, I was a brat. And I am in big trouble. I drop my eyes, and twist my head to the side.
"I'm sorry, Master," I said, quietly. "We have been over this before, and I was angry that you were forcing it on me."
"Angry or not, you behaved badly," he said. I could only nod and apologize, again. We stayed in silence for several minutes, perhaps 10, maybe as many as 15. It grew uncomfortable, but I didn't dare say anything.
"We will definitely be discussing this, have no doubt," he said. I nodded, again. I was beginning to feel like a bobble-head doll. Now that my initial anger and outrage were fading, I felt like a fool. I'm a grown-up, for God's sake; I don't have to throw a tantrum to be heard.
He pulled away from me a little bit, pinning me with his eyes. "You do realize you've earned a punishment, don't you." It was not a question. Oh, yes, I know.
"Go retrieve my cane."
And so here we are, halfway through my punishment of 12 lashes. I am in Position 3, standing with my back to Master, while he lets the cane fly and lays stripes on my ass. Now to be very fair, he is not just beating me; he has promised to never cause me true harm, and I have not lost that trust in his word. He IS, however, making very sure to let the heavy sting of the rattan strike me in the most tender of places. God, this hurts so much! And I brought it all on myself.
Thwack! There's number seven. I flinch and groan, but I don't break my stance. I have 5 to go, and I am determined to accept my punishment with grace. It's difficult, though, when my ass feels like it's on fire, and the burning shame of his disapproval hurts nearly as much as my bruising flesh. With the next blow, the tears come faster, flowing down my face to drip from my chin. My nose is starting to run, too, which just adds to my misery.
Two more blows assault my skin, and I am sobbing in earnest. This is so, so hard! Two to go, I tell myself, but it is small consolation at this point. I want nothing more than to curl up on my bed and cry. The eleventh stripe lands on my upper thigh, and I shriek, because fuck, that hurts so much. I bounce on my toes a little, wanting him to just hurry up and be done, already, please. And then, finally, at last, the twelfth and final strike lands, crossing at least one earlier stripe, and I drop my head to my chin and just cry and cry.
His hand touches my ass, and a flare of such pain courses through me that I flinch violently, almost losing my balance. He tells me to relax my stance, and turn to face him, so I drop my hands to my sides and turn, slowly, to stand before him, chastised and sore and repentant. I scrub at my face with my hands to wipe away the tears, and sniffle.
His voice is gentle. "Look at me."
I very nearly can't; I am so ashamed, and in such pain, and feeling so very small and stupid and wrong-footed.
"Are you done with this behavior? That -" he indicates the cane, now lying innocently at his feet - "that was not fun for me, either."
I have no response for that, so I remain quiet, and sniffle again.
"This cannot happen again, do you understand me?" He is not threatening me, just very matter-of-fact. I know I was out of control, and I feel so lost and uncertain. And then he takes my hand.
"It's over now," he says. "Come lie down, and we'll see where we go from here."
I walk, slowly, gingerly, to the side of the bed and carefully position myself on my side. He reaches over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I take his hand, and kiss it. We will get past my misdeed, and I have learned a lesson. I have no doubt we will disagree in the future - it's inevitable - but I know what will happen if I act out instead of being respectful and courteous. It's a painful lesson, to be sure, but one which I will remember for a very long time.
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