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Midnight is approaching and I am sat at the kitchen table reading to Master. I find it difficult to express how I feel about all the pleasure I receive, so tonight Master has instructed me to write Him a thank you note.
My head is bowed, my voice small and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I read the following:
Thank you Master for Cum Girl’s overdue and well deserved spanking.
Although spanking is punishment, Cum Girl very much enjoyed having her arse and pussy spanked with the hairbrush and particularly by Master’s hand. Thank you Master for raking your nails across Cum Girl’s body and for Cum Girl’s continuous orgasms.
Thank you Master for taking the time to tie Cum Girl, she has marks on her wrists which she hopes with still be there in the morning.
It is an inadequate response to another evening of unimaginable pleasure but it is a vast leap forward from the “It was OK Master” and “It was fine Master” that used to be my only response to questions about our sexual relationship.
The evening began with a note from Master left under my pillow. When I completed my evening chores I was instructed to go and read it.
Dear Cum Girl
Master has laid out your outfit for this evening at the end of the bed. You may change the hold-ups if you desire.
Master expects Cum Girl to be refined and sophisticated this evening. She will sip her wine and pay particular attention to her posture and carriage (i.e. walking, crawling).
You are to put your hair up so that your neck is naked and exposed bar your collar. As this is your first attempt at this Master does not expect perfect results.
Once you are dressed you will come downstairs and parade for Master till instructed to stop. You will then be allowed a cigarette and some wine.
Master will then give you further instructions.
At the bottom of the bed Master has laid out my high waisted pencil skirt, a pair of 15 denier hold-ups, my collar, my elbow length satin gloves and the latest edition to my ever expanding selection of high heeled shoes. The shoes are a dark charcoal fabric with tiny white polka dots and their heel is higher than any of my other shoes. In order to get them I had pleaded with Master, had shown him how high they were and how glorious I looked tottering around in them. Master indulged me but this was the first time he had selected them for me to wear.
Whilst I am looking forward to wearing my new shoes, I am nervous about putting my hair up. Master is very particular about my appearance. My hair has only just grown to a length where it can be put up. I had presented myself with my hair up once before. I had not received any instruction to do so, I had used my own initiative, Master took one look, expressed His dissatisfaction and I was immediately sent back upstairs. I hope the result isn’t going to be the same this evening.
There is no mirror in our bedroom so I walk along to the bathroom where I rotate Master’s shaving mirror to check over my hair and outfit. I think my hair is presentable; certainly my collared neck looks delightful and my pierced and bejewelled nipples glisten in the light. I take a deep breath and set off downstairs.
Master is sat at the kitchen table and I have to walk the length of the hall to reach him. As I enter the kitchen He holds up His hand and I stop. He stands; adjusts my skirt, smoothing it down over my waist, hips and thighs; and then returns to his seat.
“Walk Cum Girl.”
I parade before Him, up and down the length of the kitchen. Master has lit the room with a single candle at the table. He probably can’t see me particularly well which is a relief as I am having problems with my shoes. I traverse the length of the kitchen several times trying my best to walk as Master requires; one foot in front of the other, a sway of my hips and a wiggle of my bottom with every step; all the time maintaining my balance in my new 4” heels.
“That way Cum Girl.”
He is gesturing down the well lit hallway. I walk to the front door, turn and return to Him. He stops me again.
“That was more of a shuffle than a walk Cum Girl. Are those heels too high for you?”
“No Master, but…” And I tell Him how one shoe seems to be too big and slops when I walk and how it might need heel grips and how the other shoe is too small and that my toes are curled up and Master sits listening until I run out of words. Then there is silence; Master is grinning at me knowingly and without a word about my shoes He instructs me to sit.
He pours wine, allows me a cigarette, leashes me to the chair and asks how I feel about my ‘sophisticated’ look. I answer with a question:
“Is Master happy with how His Cum Girl looks?”
He praises my hair, admires the shape of my neck and collar and voices His pleasure at having my breasts and nipples exposed. I keep my back straight, my head held high, my breasts and stiff nipples pushed forward for His attention; I am glowing with delight at Master’s praise.
We sit and sip our wine, we chat and I relax. I am happy and content, but expectant. There is a knot of nervous excitement in my stomach as I wait for Master’s instruction. My wine glass is nearly empty, my cigarette finished; it is time. I am instructed to remove my shoes, He unclips my leash, removes it from the chair and orders me onto all fours, He reattaches the leash and then leads me, crawling, down the hallway into the candlelit front room where He sits and I kneel before him.
“Obedience Cum Girl.”
I lower myself till my cheeks rest on His feet and hold myself there, waiting.
“Properly Cum Girl.”
I start to lick, kiss and suck on Masters left foot. I have a dislike for feet and I am uncomfortable with this act of devotion. My efforts are half hearted. After a minute or so Master stops me and raises my head.
“There should be no moment more enjoyable than this Cum Girl; nothing more gratifying than demonstrating your obedience to your Master. You will do this with pleasure and you will cum as you do it. Is that clear Cum Girl?”
“Yes Master. Sorry Master.”
I lower my head, begin again and immediately it is different. I love the taste of Him on my tongue, the smell of Him in my nostrils, the feel of His skin against my cheek. I want to soak His feet with my saliva, lick Him clean and suck Him dry. I want to show Him what a good obedient submissive Cum Girl I am and I want to cum and cum for Him.
His hand is on my back; stroking, kneading, caressing; my mouth is full of Him. My whole world is reduced to His hands and His feet and I start to shake and quiver and pant.
I hear His voice, far away, distant, an echo of my own need, instructing me.
“Please Master.”
I echo His words back to Him.
“Please Master.”
I cum. My mouth pressed hard into His feet soaking Him, my breasts heaving, my pussy twitching, sodden, orgasmic. I may only cum with Master’s permission but the very act of asking for that permission is enough to bring me to orgasm and once I start to cum for Him my orgasms are endless.
I drench His feet. I suck and lick and dribble my saliva over them. There is nowhere I would rather be than on my knees before my Master, nothing I would rather be doing than making love to His feet with my mouth and as I lick, I pant “Please Master” again and again till my thighs are slick with my cum. I am lost in a world of obedience, submission and pleasure; I could stay here forever.
My body is quivering, my mind awash, my heartbeat racing; I am Cum Girl, He is Master, I am obedience, He is instruction. I feel Master’s hands entwined in my hair pulling me upwards until once again I am returned, panting, to the Kneeling Position. I can feel the wetness of my pussy against my ankles; feel my juices soaking through the thin denier of my hold-ups. I am aware that my face has reddened with my pleasure and my breasts are lightly sheened with sweat. I keep my head slightly bowed. Master places a glass of wine in front of me.
“How do you feel Cum Girl?”
“Like a proper Cum Girl Master.”
“Enjoy your wine Cum Girl.”
So I kneel before him and sip at my wine enjoying the feel of the chilled liquid in my parched mouth and as I do Master rises out of His seat, ties ropes to my gloved wrists and places my shoes in front of me.
“Shoes Cum Girl.”
I stand and squeeze my feet into the shoes; Master takes the ropes and secures me to the hooks attached to the picture rail. I am spread, balanced on my 4” heels, legs shoulder width apart, arms stretched above shoulder height reaching for the distant walls. He returns, pulls my skirt up to expose my pussy and arse, and runs a single finger along the length of my drenched vagina. I cum; knees buckling, head thrown back, arms straining against my bonds. I am Master’s Cum Girl, tied, exposed, helpless and orgasming. Life is perfect.
I am so lost in my own pleasure I don’t realise he has moved until I feel the hair brush on my arse. I feel teeth running over my skin; stroking, caressing, abrading. Gentle at first, then the pressure increasing, digging into my flesh, pulling at it, scratching, bringing my nerve endings to life till all my arse is tingling.
The first smack; flat side of the brush, right cheek, a throb in my arse, a dull ache spreading through my pussy. Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek. Mid paced, not hard, just enough for me to jump slightly in my shoes. I take more of my weight onto my arms, push my arse back to meet each blow, feel my orgasm building. Then the teeth are back; firm, insistent, digging into me, dragging furrows of my pain through my reddened cheeks. I am hanging from my wrists, my legs trembling, useless for support, my pussy throbbing, eager, and waiting; waiting for the next blow.
Hard. Smack in the middle of my right arse cheek. Pulses of pain and pleasure shoot through me. I clench, bite into my lower lip; feel pussy juice splash onto my parted thighs. I inhale, sucking air into me and then the second blow arrives. Same place. Pain on top of pain.
“Please Master.”
I cum; my pussy spasming violently out of control, pushing my arse back demanding for it to be beaten. Beaten so that the pain across my arse can be pleasure in my pussy and Master meets His Cum Girls need, quickening the pace, strengthening the blows, timing them to respond to the twitches of my body and now every blow is an orgasm and each orgasm is a blow.
I peak as waves and waves of pleasure engulf me. This is the indescribable; the moment when the never-ending orgasms merge, become one, take my slight, slender frame, possess it, own it, till all of me is orgasming and I can feel nothing but the pleasure engulfing me. It exhausts me, drains me, leaves me panting, shaking, sheened in sweat, my thighs soaked, my arse throbbing, my wrists burning, my ankles in pain. I need to stop. I can take no more.
Master allows me a brief respite. His hands caressing my reddened arse, stroking my neck, my stomach, my pubic mound. I need time to recover. He wraps me in His arms and I lean my body back into Him, rest my head on His shoulder, turn my eyes to look at my fabulous, wonderful Master.
He begins again; a kiss, a squeeze of my neck, breasts and nipples pinched, stomach raked, the flesh of my pubic mons twisted and I cum and cum for him. His hand is between my legs, between my swollen labia and I soak it with my cum. Soak his fingers so that he can stuff them into my mouth, so that he can feed my cum to me, so that my mouth can be just another cum filled orifice. His right hand is on my arse, nails raking across my skin. More pain, more pleasure. The fingers of His left hand are soaking themselves in my pussy and then fucking my gaping, panting mouth, His mouth at my ear, prompting me, instructing me, filling my head with words of pleasure.
His nails dig deeper; the pain increases, they push hard into my flesh. Scrape with venom across my skin. My skin throbs, constant pulses of pain; constant pulses of pleasure; every cell in my arse is alive to His touch.
Then the first smack; the sting of flesh on flesh; more sensual than the hairbrush. I feel my skin vibrate beneath His hand as he strokes away the pain and then the second arrives. A steady and insistent pace; each blow followed by a caress, each blow harder than the last, each caress firmer, the pace steadily increasing, the pain growing, spreading, my pleasure growing, spreading. His fingers stuffed into my mouth, deep to the back of my throat and I suckle Him, shove my arse back at Him, demand He use me, demand He abuse me, demand he treat me as the Cum Girl I am happy to be and He meets my need with smack after smack to my reddened arse.
He pulls His fingers from my throat and I pant and wheeze “Please Master” in a constant repartition and I shake and shake. Now as he spanks me, as I cum endlessly for Him, He starts to punish my pubis; his nails scratching me, fingers pinching, digging into my flesh till I am raw and red and throbbing. He knows what I want, knows what I need, knows what I desire. I am shuddering waiting for Him to give me my release.
“You will ask for it Cum Girl.”
“Yes Master. Please Master.”
“Please Master what, Cum Girl?”
“Please spank my pussy Master.”
Flesh against flesh, His hand smacking hard into my reddened, punished pubis and I cum, instantly, uncontrollably.
“Please Master.”
My pubis, my clitoris, my labia, my vagina all at the mercy of His hand.
“Please Master.”
My legs spread wide, opening myself to Him, offering myself to receive my punishment, my pleasure.
“Please Master.”
I am unable to take much. The pleasure too intense, the pain too intense. Each smack shakes me with a huge orgasm; my legs are giving way beneath me, I am half collapsed, I am hanging from my wrists, I am exhausted.
Master unties me, wraps me in His arms, and holds me close to Him. I find His neck with my mouth and suckle on Him. I can feel His heart beating next to mine, feel His breath hot against my face, feel His arms enfolding me, and feel His love embracing me. I am safe, secure, loved and cherished. I am His.
“Please Master.” I mumble into His skin and I suck and cling onto Him and push my orgasming body hard against His. Thank you Master. Thank you for having me as your Cum Girl.
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