She is over my knee, naked save her
collar. I am still in my work clothes, shoes, tie and all. I haven't had time
to shower yet. My pattern was disrupted when I came home and found my sub
breaking the rules.
M,
my pet, gets off work thirty minutes before I do. We have established that she
has plenty of time to come home, shower, start dinner, and be waiting for me,
naked but for her collar, on her knees inside the front door. Sometimes I need
to be sucked off when I first walk in the door, other times I just pat her on
the head and send her into the kitchen. Once in a while I'll have her bathe me,
or strip me and give me a tongue bath (only in those instances when I'm feeling
particularly demanding and evil).
But
when I came home she was on the phone with her friend.
When
I entered she looked at me, her eyes wide. She was sitting on the counter, legs
crossed at the ankle. Her legs were smooth and pale white, very nice. Her body
was supple and freshly scrubbed her pubic area cleanly shaven. She had her
shoulder length hair back in a loose ponytail on the back of her head. As per
my household rules, she wore no makeup. I allowed her to paint her nails every
other day, a new color on her fingers and toes (they always had to match), but
she only wore makeup when I instructed her to do so.
"I've
got to go, Cindy," M said quietly. "Ok, I'll call you later.
Bye."
None
of M's friends knew how she liked her sex life. She kept it a secret that she
needed to be used, to be owned and treated like property. On some level it
embarrassed her, but on another level she needed it, couldn't be satisfied
without it.
She
hung up and sunk to the floor, sunk to her knees, and her eyes sunk to my feet.
Her shoulders trembled a little, as she slid her hands behind her back and
locked her fingers.
"I'm
sorry, sir," she whispered. "I was waiting for you, and the phone
just rang. I must have lost track of…"
I
grabbed her by the ponytail and pushed her face to my shoes. She kissed them
and pleaded for mercy.
It
was bullshit. But the begging was part of the fun. Well, most of the fun if I'm
being perfectly candid.
"Over
here, bitch. NOW!" I barked, and walked away. She crawled after me,
dogging my heels, still whining. "And shut your slutty
mouth."
"Yes,
sir," she murmured. I have always instructed her to call me 'sir' instead
of 'master'. I used to rely on 'master' for my pets until I acquired a black subby. Call my politically correct, but it made me a little
uncomfortable to have her call me 'master', especially when I was whipping her,
so from then I switched to 'sir' and never looked back. I find there is a
stigma of distance and respect that is instilled in our usage of the word.
I pulled my belt out of the loops and sat on
the loveseat. I patted my lap, as if summoning my dog. Looking sheepish, M
crawled up onto my lap and thrust her ass up into the air.
I
whipped her ass until it was glowing and red. She made whimpering noises deep
in her throat; my favorite. I set the belt down and used my hand, pausing to
admire my red handprint in between strokes. Finally, after a dozen sharp slaps,
I felt her chest start to heave. She was reaching her limit.
I
pulled her thighs apart and stuck my finger into her twat. She was gooey,
oozing enough juice to drown the little man in the boat. I pinched her thigh,
twisted it, and pulled her legs farther apart. She had to rest on her hand to
keep her balance, as I pulled one leg off the floor to leave her sopping pussy
wide open and exposed.
Then
I smacked it. She yelped. I smacked it again.
"Who
do you belong to?" I asked quietly.
"You,
sir. I belong to you."
"You
are my property."
"I…"
her breath hitched, "I am your property. Body and soul, yours."
I
grabbed the knot of her hair and jerked her head back.
"Say
it again."
"I
am your property, sir."
I
let her head go, and traced her red ass. I wrote words on it with the tip of my
finger.
"Maybe
this weekend I'll finally take you in and have some work done. Would you like
that, pet?" I teased her. It was a constant threat, something I held over
her head. "I'll take you to the tattoo parlor and we'll get 'PROPERTY OF
N' (full name withheld) inked across your ass. I still need to think of
something for the other ass cheek, but we'll wait another month for that."
She
moaned. I pushed her off my lap. She landed in a heap, and quickly scrambled
back into proper position. I scratched her head lovingly.
"Or
maybe…" I touched her lips, and she opened her mouth like a good pet. I
pinched her tongue and pulled it out. "Maybe its finally time for you to
get your tongue pierced. I think you owe that to me, at least."
Her
eyes were wet; with fear and excitement. They always went hand in hand with my
sweet M. "Yes, sir," she half cried. "Whatever you desire."
"That's
right, M," I said sweetly. I grabbed her chin and raised her eyes to meet
mine. Such pretty eyes, especially when wet with tears. "Whatever I
desire, is what you will do. And tonight, as part of your punishment, you don't
get to come."
Her
eyes got even sadder.
"This
is fair punishment, is it not?"
"I'm
so sorry, sir," she lowered her head again, and kissed my shoes.
"Please don't do that. I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"Anything,
sir!" she cried.
Oh,
what a lovely dance it is.
"You'll
suck my ass, tongue fuck my hole?"
"Yes,
sir."
"You'll
be my urinal?"
She
paused, scared. We'd never actually gone that far before. "Yes, sir,"
she said finally.
"Interesting.
Well, pet, if you do as told and are a very good girl maybe I'll let you come
later."
Relief
washed over her flushed features. Her eyes glittered.
"Now
undress me."
She
untied my shoes with her mouth, kissed my sweaty feet when they were bare. She
used her hands to undress me fully, and then put them behind her back.
"Now
do what you do best, slut."
She
opened her mouth and sucked my cockhead between her
full, warm lips.
"Wait,"
I pushed her forehead away. "Go and get your lipstick. The red."
She
crawled into the bedroom, and came back a moment later with a tube of red in
her mouth. I took it from her, and she got back on her knees.
"What
is it you do best, slut?"
"Suck
your cock, sir."
"What
are you, M?"
"I'm
your cock sucking whore, sir."
"Good
girl," I cooed. I held her chin steady, and thickly applied the red
lipstick. I smeared it, coated it generously. "Now get to work."
I
held her hair loosely as she began to lick and suck. I got hard almost
instantly, and pulled roughly on her hair to jam my cock down her throat. She
gagged, but quickly recovered. Pulling out, she let loose a thick wad of bubbly
saliva that ran down the side of my dick. I face-fucked her, jerking on her
hair, for a few minutes, then let go of her hair and let her work. She was
good. Damn good. Maybe the best cocksucker I'd ever had. She was worth keeping
around, I had long since decided. Maybe one day I would tell her as such.
As
she sucked, I let my mind drift to the evening to come. She had broken the
rules, and unfortunately for her I was feeling a certain devilish ingenuity
coming over me. I thought about all the things I would make her do for me: fuck
her ass with a dildo as I watched; writing on her with lipstick and maybe even
black marker (laying out designs for future brandings, perhaps); her food and
water coming out of a dish on the kitchen floor at my feet; having her play end
table as I set an ashtray and a cold beer on her back, and leaving her as such
as I watched television; a round or two with the riding crop; and a long
session with her tonguing my asshole.
As
for her rimjobs, I find them pleasant feeling, but
not as spectacular as watching her work. She despises doing it. I keep myself
clean, of course, but she finds it the most degrading thing of all. Sometimes
she will cry as she does it, and this always pleases me to no end.
My
mind came back to the present, as M throated my cock time and again, over and
over, until I felt the end coming. So did she; and she sunk lower on her knees,
tilted her head and opened her mouth wide so I could watch myself spurt deep
into her mouth. The jizz pooled up under her tongue
and around her bottom teeth. She looked at me pleadingly. I let her look for a
few moments.
"You
may swallow," I nodded to her, and she did.
"Thank
you, sir," she murmured, feeling sexy and looking it, as well.
"Now
you've had your dinner, it's time for mine. Go and fetch it."
She
hopped to her feet and busied herself in the kitchen. I relaxed for a few
minutes, watching her pink ass sway as she prepared my food, and then got up to
go into the shower.
It
was going to be a hell of a night.
I stood
in front of the full-length mirror and slipped into my new dress shirt. It
didn't look too bad – maybe I wasn't the conventional ladykiller
type, but for a certain type of woman I was attractive. The shirt was adorned
with dancing red flames and devil's forks, over a black backdrop.
"What do you think, pet?" I asked M.
She was kneeling on the floor next to me, watching me with big, sad eyes.
She was, of course, insanely jealous that I was going out tonight. She grumbled
a response, and I laughed at her.
"Look at me," I said to her. She looked up, and I spit in her face.
"Don't be a bitch. Tell me what you think."
Her lower lip trembled. Sticky clear ooze shined from her thighs. She didn't
move to wipe off her face.
"You look very handsome, sir," she whispered.
"Thank you," I said with a smile. "Now go fetch my black
shoes."
As she crawled away I admired the new tail she had, and smacked her ass. The
week before I had found a lovely buttplug at the
adult superstore, a thick black plug with a long braided tail attached to it. Every night since I had made her wear it for me. She still
found it acutely humiliating, which of course made it intensely enjoyable.
She crawled back out of the closet with my left shoe in her mouth. She sat it
down in front of me and went off to get the other one.
Last month I had played a similar game with her. I had gone out drinking with
some friends of mine. Before I left I sat her in front of the mirror told her
to sit still. I put a plastic pig snout over her nose, and cute little clip on
pig ears in her hair. In black marker I wrote PIG WHORE across her chest
(letters reversed, naturally, so she could read it properly). I sprinkled baby
powder all over the carpet around her, another trick of mine. Bondage is all well
and good, but I prefer actual mental control over physical restraints. When the
powder is laid out, I will see if she moves or gets up. There is no way to move
and not make a mark in the powder, so she is forced to sit still or face the
consequences.
And when I am disobeyed, I do the only thing she can't handle – tell her to
leave. No matter what degrading thing I do to her, it still makes her wet,
still presses her buttons. Threatening to never see her again is what really
frightens her.
When I came back late that night M was still in position, still looking at her
piggy self in the mirror. I took her into the bathroom and had her squat in the
shower and piss into a bowl.
"Who's my cute little pig whore?" I teased her. She flushed red.
"I am," she said.
"Does my cute little pig whore want to have hot
piggy piss dumped over her head?"
She couldn't respond, but nodded slightly.
"Then ask me nicely," I said.
"Please, sir," she said. Her voice cracked a little, and her eyes got
wet. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Please dump piggy piss on me."
"Since you asked so nicely," I said, and dumped the bowl over her
head. I had her sit there in the shower for a few minutes, urine dripping from
the ends of her hair and beading up around her pig snout.
But that was then. Tonight was an entirely different game. I tell you, trying
to find new ways to humiliate and humiliation slut is a taxing chore. If you repeat yourself too much, if it gets redundant, and you stop
enjoying it quite so much.
M sat at my feet and put my shoes on me, lacing them up just the way I liked.
Then I brushed my teeth and spritzed on some
Obsession.
"I'll be gone for a few hours. Going to go out with the boys and drink
some beers. But I was thinking later you and I could do something."
She perked up a little. She hated being left alone, even for a night.
"I want you to clean the bathroom. Scrub it, every inch." I told her
sternly. She nodded. "And when you get done with that, do your nails. And
then you can put on make-up. I won't tell you what to wear, but make yourself
look nice. However you want to do it. Your hair too, make
it look nice. Then find something pretty to wear – no work
clothes, something kind of slutty, but pretty.
Can you do that for me?"
She looked a little confused, but happy.
"Yes, sir!" she said brightly. "I'll make myself so pretty for
you."
"Good girl," I said, patting her head. "I'll see you
later."
And I left. I paused outside the window, and heard her talking excitedly to
herself. She rushed into the closet, and I heard her pulling out dress after
dress after dress. She was so excited.
I met my friends up at a local bar, and we ordered several pitchers of beer and
shot a few games of pool. I don't go out as much as I used to, but always had a
blast when I did make it out on the town. Before long the beer started weighing
heavily on my bladder, so I started drinking a little more slowly. I had to
pace myself, after all.
Around
Like M.
I rushed out to my car, needing to piss so badly I could barely keep from
stopping and pissing right on the curb. But that wouldn't have been much fun,
now would it?
A few minutes later I was unlocking my front door. M was waiting for me in the
middle of the living room. She had her hair up, except for a spit curl trailing
down each of her lovely cheeks. She had used a little make-up, just to
accentuate her features, not to look whorish. Her nails were my favorite shade
of purple, and matched the black and purple strapless dress she wore.
"You look gorgeous," I said honestly, and took her in my arms. I
kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around me – and her hug almost pushed
my poor bladder to the limit. "I do love you, M."
I had never told her that before. Her face softened, and she kissed the side of
my neck.
"I love you, too, N," she said, using my real name (which was a rare
occurrence, but in this case entirely expected and welcomed)
We held each other for a few more moments, just enjoying the words we had
spoken.
And then….
"Ok, come here," I said, grinning at her mischievously. I took her
hand and led her into the bathroom. She was so happy that she never expected
what was coming next. "Now get on your knees in the bathtub, pig
whore."
"What?"
"Do it!" I snapped. I slapped her ass. She gave me a pleading look.
"Tonight is a very special night, pet. We're going to another level
between us. Don't you want that?"
She nodded dumbly and did as told. Her chest was already starting to heave.
"You look so beautiful, baby," I said sweetly, and pulled out my
cock. "I've never pissed on such a beautiful face before. Now open your
mouth."
She started crying. She sobbed and sobbed, and could barely hold her mouth
open. I reached in and spit in her mouth, and yanked it open with my fingers.
She closed her eyes and held her mouth open.
"That really is a pretty dress," I told her, as I let my mighty
stream of beer-piss go right across her made-up face. I aimed between her lips,
but didn't expect her to swallow it. She struggled to keep her lips from
slamming shut, and started bawling, gurgling yellow from the corners of her
painted lips. "Open your eyes. Look at me!" I told her.
She did as told, and I continued to empty my bladder across her mouth.
By the time I was finished, her dress was soaked. Her lipstick and eyeliner had
started to smear and run. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked broken.
"Who's my cute little piss whore?" I asked her, my voice jovial.
"I am," she whispered.
"What?"
"I'm your piss whore, sir," she repeated. And then she leaned forward
and licked the last drop off the head of my cock, and kissed it. "All
yours."
I put my cock away and went to the door.
"Good girl. Now get naked and clean up. I want you collared, clean, and
greased up in fifteen minutes."
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"Pet," I told her, "I think maybe tonight I might let you cum as
much as you can. You have been a good girl."
"Thank you, sir," she said, licking her lips.
And I left her to her cleaning. I stripped down and crawled into bed, and thought
about what game we should play next.
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