Breathless
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Posted:Jun 18, 2021 4:53 am
Last Updated:Sep 6, 2021 9:24 am 2518 Views
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Breathless
You are seated at the table, as you often are, working on payroll. I am waiting for the right moment.
Finally, you say loudly to me, “Whew! Payroll is finally finished.”
I call to you facing the wrong way to make it sound as if from my desk in the bedroom, “Well that’s good. Was there a problem?”
“Just the damn ADP link, as usual,” you reply.
“Perhaps you need a little distraction,” I say, and I am hoping you hear the tease in my tone so that you’ll look in my direction.
You do, and your eyes blink. I am standing nearer than you realized, because I have entered the room quietly and swiftly. I am wearing the collar you gave to me. You had told me I could put it on and take it off whenever I wanted. So I am wearing the collar.
And I am not wearing anything else.
As I slowly walk toward you, I see that you are pleased, but you are pretending to be angry. I hold out the leash and avert my eyes. You grab the leash and pull me down to the floor.
“You seem to have forgotten your place, Doggrrl. You should be on all fours.”
I clamber awkwardly to my hands and knees. I make puppy panting noises and rub my nose against your leg, attempting to win my Master’s favor. From my position, I see that your pants are beginning to rise at the crotch. I look up at you and ask you with my eyes. You know full well what I am asking.
“No! Doggrrl, you do not get to have a treat any time you want it. You have to earn it.” When you say that, you pull up on the leash, and I immediately obey the nonverbal “Sit” command. I make a little puppy whining noise, and try again to nuzzle your thigh. You start to pet my head, but not nicely, rather harshly. Then you pull my hair so that my head is facing away from you.
“Doggrrl, fetch me that New Yorker magazine.”
I begin crawling on my hands and knees toward the coffee table where the magazine lies. I get about four inches away from the magazine when I feel the end of leash length. I try to pull a little to get to my target, but you give a corrective tug back. I whine like a puppy and tug back.
This time you yank the leash harder, and I feel a hint of asphyxiation. I relax a bit, but I don’t accept my failure to complete the task you have given me. After you feel that I am no longer pulling, you relax your hold on the leash, and I seize my opportunity to lunge for the magazine.
Success! I have a few pages of it between my teeth and pull the magazine off the table. It falls to the floor. As I lower my head toward the floor to get it, I suddenly feel the sharp sting of a slap on my upturned ass.
“Ouch!” I say before I realize my error, which is rewarded with an even harder spank.
“A Doggrrl that can talk?” you ask, the sarcasm palpable in your voice.
I reply with puppy-like whining as I pick up the magazine with my teeth. I turn and offer it to you, averting my eyes. You take it from me and immediately begin to roll it up. Oh dear, I think. That’s going to really hurt.
“You’re probably thinking there is not a large number of spanks coming, since you accomplished your task despite the obstacles.”
I fight the urge to nod, and I simply whine a bit.
“What a strange pet you are, but then again, you’re just a stupid doggrrl who can’t count anyway. The way I see it, and that’s the only way that matters, isn’t it Doggrrl, you have come in here are if a real girl, forgetting your place. That’s two, one for each foot you weren’t using. Then you have the nerve to ask for a treat. That’s gotta be two more. You use cleverness, which I loathe, to get your task accomplished, and you sprout a human voice when your cleverness is corrected. That’s at least five more. So that puts you at nine. We’ll round it up to ten, because I know you thought you were going to get off easy.”
You begin to spank my ass with the rolled up New Yorker, counting loudly with delight as you go, and I can’t help thinking of the irony. Not only is there a story about penguins, which you love, but there is also an article about battered women in that issue, and here I am willingly taking a beating from you.
By the third spank, I can feel my ass reddening and I begin to get wet. Then you begin to randomly insert gentle spanks and loving touches with your hand to my ass as you count the remaining seven spanks, the last one being much more of a caress than a spank.
I raise my ass to your caressing hand and begin panting, making a kind of purring or humming sound. Your fingers begin to explore my reddened cheeks down to my moistened pussy, and you say to me, “Doggrrll, it seems to me that you have been taking some pleasure in your punishment.”
I wriggle in response to your touch and look around in your direction, but not to your face. I can see that your cock has gotten a bit bigger now.
I ask you again with my eyes.
“Well, Doggrrl,” you begin, “I suppose you have earned a treat.” You walk around, in front of me now. “Go ahead then, be a good grrrl and do your special trick using your teeth. If you do it well, you get to have the treat inside.”
Still on all fours, I lean forward and gather the zipper of your fly between my lips. I grasp it with my teeth, snarling a bit, and start pulling it down. It’s a bit rough going; your pants have tightened around your bulging cock.
“Careful there, Doggrrl. You don’t want to wreck your treat.” Your caution is needless. You know I am quite skilled at this particular trick. You are simply teasing me.
I succeed at freeing your cock from your pants, which I pull downward. I see now that you are wearing your Nautica underwear, which lack that lovely opening in front. I will have to pull them down past your fully erect cock with my teeth. This task is actually easier than retrieving it from behind that cotton curtain with just my teeth and tongue, but I snarl again, as if in disappointment anyway.
You laugh wickedly, delighted with my success and my apparent dismay at the sight of your Nauticas.
I proceed to deftly remove your underwear from your crotch, pulling them down to your pants. Proud, I sneak a glance up, and quickly avert my eyes again.
“Too late my pet,” you say. You saw me looking at your face, so you slap mine, hard. I see stars. “No treat for you.”
You grab my hair, pulling my head back, and you fuck my face cruelly. I almost choke as you shove your cock into my mouth. It has a great deal of girth, as you well know. You quickly fill my mouth down my throat, covering my access to air. You put your other hand over the collar on my throat and squeeze, just in case I have any air to breathe. But I don’t. So I swallow, hard, as much cock as I can, hoping that my inevitable cough will win me some mercy.
I cough. You laugh.
“Too much treat, little pet?” You pull your cock away from my face, and with your hand in my hair you pull me around facing the other way.
I know what you want to do to me. But I also know that in order to fuck me doggy-style you will have to get to your knees too. That will give me just enough time to catch my breath before you put your hand to my throat again.
Pulling my hair with one hand and choking me with the other, you have your way with me, and I love every breathless moment of it. Your cock feels so good in my pussy that I can feel an orgasm welling up. You sense it too, and for a moment you release my throat long enough to spank my ass a few times. I bark in response, and you step up your thrusts into me as I cum, loudly.
Then you put your hand back onto the collar on my throat. You haven’t cum yet, and I sense another orgasm of my own getting ready to explode. You start fucking me in a rhythm I know well, as I‘ve experienced it before with you. You are fucking me to the beat of fibonacci numbers, pausing momentarily at each one, allowing me a quick breath.
When you reach 13, I become afraid that I might not be able to get to 21.
Because I am breathless.
When you get to 19 you release my throat and I begin barking again. You explode inside of me just as I do too.
After we catch our breath, you get up and put your pants back. I take off my collar and stand.
I look into your eyes and say, “Glad you were able to get the payroll done, Love. Next time, let me know if there’s anything I can fetch for you to make it easier.”
“That’s my girl!”
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Master Catches Slave Girl Misbehaving
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Posted:Jul 11, 2020 12:31 pm
Last Updated:Jul 19, 2021 10:09 am 4297 Views
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“Little Slave Girl! What are you doing there?” said the Master to his pretty slave girl as he passed her room, noticing something seemed "off."
The slave girl froze and looked up, sheepishly. Breathless and blushing, she said, “Sir?”
The Master, realizing that she had been masturbating as he walked by, said, “With your hands there? What were you doing?”
“Sir, I was just--”
“Just what?” he said, mildly amused by her vain attempt to hide the truth.
The slave girl had been frantically searching her mind for an excuse. Finally one came out of her mouth, as if by its own will. “Sir, I had an itch I was scratching,” she offered.
“Scratching an itch, were you, eh?” said the Master with obvious disbelief.
“Why, yes, Sir. I think I may have been bitten by a mosquito or something…” She was thoroughly befuddled by the situation, mortified that her Master may have seen her playing with herself.
The Master chuckled softly and said, “Oh, something bit you all right! Right there, Little Slave Girl? Between your legs?”
“Why of course, Sir.” Then she had a clever idea. “Shall I show you?” she said, hoping to distract him from her transgression.
Not to be dissuaded, the Master pushed on. “You were scratching rather earnestly, Slave Girl.”
“It was very itchy, Sir,” she explained.
He decided he might have some more fun with this charade if he played along a bit. “Show me this alleged mosquito bite, Girl. Now!”
The slave girl obediently opened the folds of her wrap skirt and said, “Yes, Sir.”
The Master began examining her pubic area closely, becoming aroused by the musk of it. “I see no such thing as a mosquito bite, Girl. Tell me the truth!”
“Sir,” she began, defending her lame lie. “I am telling the truth, I--”
“Liar!” he said, slapping her face. “The evidence is plain, Little Slave Girl. There is moisture between your legs, is there not? Tell the truth now, and your punishment will be less severe. “
The slave girl, reeling from the sharp brutality of the slap, feeling her cheek redden as she instinctively felt its hotness with her left hand, accidentally looked up at him.
Feeling even more angry now, the Master said, “Don’t look at me without permission, unless you want more of the same.”
Immediately pulling her gaze downward, she noted that he was becoming aroused, his manhood approximately at eye level. “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” She began speaking slowly, clearly choosing her words with care. “You see, I had been in my quarters by the window when I saw you, Sir, practicing your guitar.”
The Master raised his brows at this. “You were watching me practice? What business was that of yours?”
“Sir, it was not my business at all, and I was not purposely watching you. I was mending your socks, Sir, by the window for light.” She indicated the socks there, hoping to have garnered her Master’s trust.
“Yes, mending my socks. Go on, Girl!” he said, tapping the edge of the table.
The slave girl licked her lips a bit and went on with her story. “Well, a cardinal had been chirping his two notes, and for amusement, I was chirping back at him as I did my work, like this.” Then she whistled two notes and looked at her Master to see if he could recognize the cardinal’s song.
“That look, Pretty Slave Girl, is going to cost you two good ones. You had been warned,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now go on, please, with your ridiculous story.”
Slightly offended, she said with a bit of defiance in her tone, “Then he had flown by me Sir, and--”
The Master, growing impatient now, said, “Yes, yes, get to it, Girl!”
“Well, Sir, as my eyes followed him, he flew by you. I was stricken by the sight of your muscles beneath your shirt as you practiced your guitar. I couldn’t hear it from my window, but I could see you…”
Flattered now, he asked, though he knew full well the answer, “What has any of this to do with what I witnessed when I passed by your room?”
The slave girl, now visibly blushing, began stammering in her nervousness. “Sir, I...I was reminded of coming to know the strength of those muscles as you had your way with me in the shed last week, and I--”
The Master, now clearly fully aroused, but angry, said, “How dare you speak of that afternoon, Little Slave Girl?”
“Sir, please! I am only telling the truth about my behavior that you witnessed, as you wished!”
“The alleged mosquito attacked you then?” he said, mocking her now with great pleasure.
“No, Sir. That was a lie, as you are well aware.” She looked down, hoping her attitude would win him over. “For that I am very sorry.”
“Excuse me?”
“For that I am very sorry, Sir.”
“Oh dear. That’s two more for forgetting how to address me, and I have a special punishment for your lie. Now go one with your story.”
“Well, Sir, the reminder of that day caused me to...have impure thoughts--”
“Impure thoughts, Slave Girl?” He pushed her to her knees.
The girl went on helplessly, still looking down. “Impure thoughts about what you had done to me, Sir, which led to twingly feelings between my legs, and--”
“Twingly?” he asked, pulling her chin up to look at her face. “Is that even a word, Pretty Little Slave Girl?” He smiled, mocking her again.
The slave girl dutifully avoided looking at him in the eyes and endeavored to explain. “Twinges of tingly feelings down in that area, Sir, and for relief--”
“Relief? Really? From thoughts of me, your Master?” He immediately slapped her again.
“Sir, No!” she cried out as a tear escaped her left eye. “It was for relief from your absence, Sir.”
“Ah, Little Slave Girl. You simply cannot have what you want all the time, now, can you?”
The slave looked down in shame. “No, Sir. You are correct.”
“And what specifically did a pretty slave girl want of my presence, wanting relief from my absence?” He smiled indulgently.
“Sir?”
“Tell me what you wanted. Speak freely, Girl.”
The slave girl began, unsure whether he really meant it. “Sir, I saw your arms flexing so strong while they held that instrument in place with affection, and it has a rather female figure, and it made me wish you would hold me in place again, as you did in the shed, with your strong arms, but also with affection…”
“Affection? Oh my Pretty Little Slave Girl, how you have mistaken this relationship. You are but a slave, with an appealing face and body for sure, but these appealing parts are owned by me, and they are for my pleasure, not yours.”
The girl was stung by his words, despite his gentle tone. “Yes, Sir, of course Sir…”
“So now, Little Slave, as threatened, you must take your punishment, before I take you again for my pleasure. Assume the position! I think you have a good number coming to you. What is it now?”
The slave girl, lowering her face to the floor and removing her skirt, replied, “Four Sir. Plus whatever you have in store for my fabrication.”
“Fabrication?” he said with amusement. “Someone’s been studying her SAT words!” She beamed with delight at his approval.
“Now then, let’s begin.” He smacked her ass very hard with his open hand. “What was that?”
She held back a yelp and said, “One, Sir.” He followed it quickly with two more and she counted them out, feeling the prints of his hand becoming hot and probably very red.
Before he delivered the fourth spank, he felt between her legs, now noticeably wet. Then he swiftly removed his belt. She gasped. “A pretty slave girl I know seems to like this treatment!” Holding the buckle, he struck her ass hard with the other end of the belt. He admired the sharp red lines it produced on her lovely bottom.
“Four, Sir!” she nearly shouted.
“Now then, as to your falsehoods to me. I am feeling a bit generous. I want you now to go to the bed and lie on your back. You should find that easy. You’ve proven yourself to be good at lying!” He smirked at his terribly sarcastic pun, knowing she would find that most low form of humor an amusement.
She approached the bed and put her very sore bottom onto it and lay back.
“You will have a choice. With which end of the belt shall I spank that pussy?” The slave girl thought more about a pussy spanking than his question, so he said, “Time’s up. Dealer’s choice. We’ll start with the easy end. Now, were you indeed scratching an itch, Slave?”
The slave girl said with trepidation, “No Sir.” He instantly patted her clitoris with the belt. She wondered if that was to be all, and strangely, she felt a bit disappointed if it were.
Then the Master said, “What in fact were you doing?” He grinned and gave her clit another tap, this one a bit firmer.
Wincing, the slave answered,”Touching my pussy, Sir.”
At this he spanked it much harder and said, “WHOSE pussy were you touching, Slave girl?”
She gasped again and said, “Yours, Sir.”
“My what, Little Slave?” he said, smacking it again.
“Your pussy, Sir.” She was pleased that he didn’t smack it again, though she was clearly excited, her pussy beginning to drip.
The Master straightened up and sternly said, “Now, in a complete sentence, Slave Girl, tell me what you were doing when I came into your quarters?”
“Sir, --” she began, but he interrupted her with another smack.
“I was--” (smack!);
“touching m--(smack!); YOUR (smack!); pussy” she gasped out, now fully in tears.
Gently now, her Master said, “And is it wet again, Pretty Little Slave Girl?”
In utter shame, she admitted, “Yes, Sir, it is indeed.”
“That’s my girl!” he said as he pulled his penis out and began tying her legs over her head.
The slave girl, becoming aware of what is about to happen, quietly said, “Yes, Sir.”
The Master, greedily feeling her flesh with his hands as he entered her, said, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Slave Girl?”
“Well, Sir I--”
“Careful now, the belt is still right at hand, Girl.”
Then, mostly to himself he said, “Aww, what the hell,” and began slapping her lovely breasts with the belt while vigorously fucking her. “Admit it!”
The slave girl, gasping in pain and moaning in increasing pleasure, ruefully aware that her excitable body was betraying her breaking heart, said at last, “Yes, Sir. You are right. This is what I wanted.”
The Master began cumming hard in her. Then perfunctorily removed himself from her. “See now? You didn’t really need affection, did you, Slave?”
The slave girl, feeling unsatisfied, used, and utterly heartbroken, quietly said, “No, Sir. It is as you said.”
The Master quickly undid the ropes that bound her legs up and said, “Good then. Now go and clean yourself up. You look a mess. And then get me those socks, Slave Girl!”
“Yes, Sir,” she said and began to do as she was told.
"So, I got you kinda hot, did I , Baby?" He had popped his back in to watch her.
"Yes, but it's clear I returned the favor, Sweetheart. And don't think you're getting off scot-free," she threatened, grinning to herself.
"I was hoping you'd say that," he added before going down the hall, grinning to himself.
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Response
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Posted:Nov 30, 2019 6:15 am
Last Updated:Dec 2, 2019 5:18 am 1767 Views
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Pretty slave girl
I accept your submission and promise you that as far as you go into the darkness, I will always be behind you ready at any moment to step in front and face whatever has emerged from the shadows to frighten you. I will never place another slave before you. You have my permission to put on or take off your collar at will, with one exception, that being if I ask you to place the collar on you, then you do it without question.
As we consider adding another to our adventure know that it is for your enjoyment and delight. I have been touched by your gentle affection for your new friend and I look forward to her showing you how far into the shadows she has gone.
There is wisdom to be found in both the light and the dark all spring from the source and I believe the dark ecstasy which we pursue is within our , if not today soon. So, I conclude by accepting your subservience and look forward to the adventure and promise that while you will not always be safe, you will always be under my protection.
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Master, The Pretty Slave Girl And His Mistress
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Posted:Sep 30, 2019 6:49 am
Last Updated:Sep 30, 2019 5:13 pm 2886 Views
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Chapter 1
Chess and other games
They were playing chess. He was teaching her. He had played chess for many years and believed it might be of value to her to understand the game. He used chess as a metaphor for certain types of confrontations. He enjoyed the elegance of the various openings, in this game, he had tried to execute The Kings Indian, a somewhat complex opening, but her play was so erratic he had to modify his plans.
He was four, no, five moves from mate and was bored going through a sure thing. Suddenly his demeanor changed, he looked over at her and said casually, “Okay pretty slave girl, that’s enough, you know what you have to do”.
“But,” she stammered.
“Oh dear, that was a mistake. That will cost you five,” he said.
“No… wait...” She was clearly flustered.
“Goodness me, that’s another five,” he said.
She visibly shrank in the chair. “Yes master," she said meekly. “Upstairs or downstairs, Sir?”
“I think we’ll start downstairs.”
She immediately arose from her chair and walked to bedroom at the back of the house. She undressed down to her panties and bra, folding her clothes neatly and placing them on the bed. Then she walked to the wall and stood facing it with her hands on the wall above her head. She waited several minutes alone until he came in.
“Your punishment is coming, but first we’re doing something else,” he said as he walked into the room and stepped behind her.
“Yes master,” is all she said.
He began tracing the edges of her brassiere. Her excitement, which had begun immediately, with her saying, “yes master,” was only increasing. When he cupped one of her breasts she moaned.
“Ohhhh…”
“There is no moaning,” he said sternly. “All you may do is purr, like a cat.”
She was confused. She tried several ways of purring before she found one which she was happy with.
“Well, that’s something we’ll have to work on, “ he said. “Really, a girl should be able to do a pussycat, don’t you think pretty slave girl?”
“Yes sir.”
“Now, let me tell you the rules of this game, the pretty slave girl can purr but can’t make any other noises, also, and this is very important, the pretty slave girl cannot have an orgasm until master says it’s okay. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“The pretty slave girl has already earned herself 10 good ones, if she can play by the rules, she can erase 3.” As he said this, he was lightly biting her neck and undoing the clasps of her bra. When it was done, he moved her hands down, slipped the bra off her arms and tossed it on the bed with her other clothes. Then moved her hands back onto the wall above her head.
He took both nipples between his thumb and index finger and pulled on them hard. She gasped.
“Oh dear, pretty slave girl that’s two more, you’re going the wrong way.”
He pulled and stroked her nipples and breasts for several minutes and then his hand went down between her legs. He could feel her clitoris. It was swollen and hard. He massaged it, gently at first and then harder. Her breathing was getting ragged, her excitement beyond her control, suddenly an orgasm flooded over her.
“Oh my god!” she gasped.
He slowed and then stopped. Her breathing became more measured. The orgasm subsiding, she was anxious, worried about the punishment, for not abiding the rules.
He moved her hands down to her sides then slowly turned her around. The front of her panties were stained with her. A small wet spot could be seen.
“Oh my, I see the pretty slave girl has wet her pants. What shall we do?”
He knelt before her, pushing her legs further apart and then putting his mouth on the wet spot and chewing and licking her clitoris through her panties. It was not long before she climaxed again. Again, he allowed her breathing to become more regular before slipping the wet panties off and taking her clitoris into his mouth and sucking hard on it. She leaned back against the wall bracing herself with her hands, angling her hips up, allowing him to get more of her into his mouth. It was only a short while until she had her third orgasm.
“Oh my god,” she said without thinking.
He immediately arose, “Hmmmm, a talking pussycat, will wonders never cease.”
She stood naked before him, her mind reeling with ideas of what the severity of her punishment might be for so very much, not abiding the rules of the game.
“Well, my count that was three orgasms. Am I correct pretty slave girl?”
“Yes”
“I’m sorry, what”? he said with irritation in his voice.
“Yes sir”, she said quickly, correcting herself.
“So, let’s see, the oh my god’s we have set at two each, I just can’t see the orgasms at less than three each. There was the ten from before, plus the two oh my gods, that’s three orgasms without permission, is another nine, for a total of twenty-three.”
“Oh, pretty slave girl, that is going to be quite a red bottom. I tell you what, we’ll play another game upstairs, perhaps, with some luck, you can lower your .”
“Okay pretty slave girl, scoot along.”
“Yes master”, she said as she made her way to the stairs and the upstairs room where she took a collar from desk drawer and put it on, then she took a blindfold. Next, she walked to the foot of the bed where she knelt on a mat, at that point putting on the blindfold and waited, wondering what this next game might possibly be.
She heard him moving about downstairs putting things onto a tray. She felt it must have been five or ten minutes before she heard his footsteps on the stairs, it had been only four minutes.
“Okay pretty slave girl, I have a little job for you before we get to our next game.”
She heard him unzip his pants. She imagined him taking out his cock.
“Here is the job, clean master’s cock, but you may not touch master with your hands, and you can only lick master, like a ---”
"Pussycat?"
Did she say it aloud? She couldn't tell, but prayed that he didn't hear her and began immediately to take on the job he gave her in an effort to dissuade him from punishing her. She leaned forward and began licking along the shaft of his cock. She so wanted to take it into her mouth, but she didn’t dare break another rule. After a few minutes he said, “Okay, that’s enough. Time for our next game.”
He put his cock back into his pants and then rezipped them. He took her her left arm helped her stand and then moved her to the middle of the bed.
“Put your hands together above your head.”
She immediately did as he asked. He tied her hands together above her head and then tied the rope to bed frame. Next, he took her right leg, made a knot around her ankle and then tied the other end to the bed frame above her head forcing her leg into the air. He repeated it on the other leg. She had never felt so exposed and vulnerable. Her mind raced through possibilities a combination of excitement and apprehension. He leaned next to her ear and whispered.
“Are you my pretty slave girl?”
“Yes Sir, forever Sir.”
He straightened up and spoke in normal volume.
“Okay, we are at twenty-three, that is more than you have ever gotten at once. So here is the game, I am going to put something on either your nipples or your pussy. If you guess what it is you reduce three the of spanks you are supposed to get. If you wish to smell and then guess, you reduce the number of spanks to two. If you wish to taste it, you reduce the number only by one.”
“I have four sensations for you to experience, you can choose nipple or pussy. “
She immediately said, “Nipple, please Sir.” She had decided that, because of her position, with her breasts being put up so close to her head, she might be able to smell what was being put on her nipples without even having to ask.
He rubbed the semi-clear liquid onto her nipple. Her nipple immediately began to harden. It smelt sweet and sour at the same time.
“Is it, lemon juice?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?” he said with irritation in his voice.
“I’m sorry Master.” She said quickly followed by saying, “Is it, lemon juice, Sir?”
“Good for you, you got it. However, I am pondering if the pretty slave girl should get the points considering the disrespectful way, she addressed master.”
“I’m sorry Master, please forgive me, I promise I won’t forget again, ever, I promise.” Her tone was so remorseful, her apology so sincere, he smiled, which, because of the blindfold, she could not see.
“Okay, you can have the points pretty slave girl.”
“Down to twenty, good for you. What a clever pretty slave girl.”
He put his mouth on her nipple and licked and sucked off the lemon juice.
“Okay, next, nipple or pussy?”
“Nipple please sir.”
It felt viscous there was no smell. No, there was, but slight.
“Is it, is it melted chocolate sir?”
“My goodness, you are quite the clever, pretty slave girl.”
He put his mouth over her nipple and again licked and sucked off all the chocolate.
“Down to seventeen, good for you.”
“Nipple or pussy?”
“Nip” she began to say when he interrupted her.
“You know what? I’m picking this time. I think the way I have you tied up has given an advantage which I had not anticipated.”
He rubbed something on her clitoris, it felt cold and hot at the same time.
“I don’t know, sir. I need to taste it sir.”
He reached down to her exposed pussy and rubbed his finger along her clitoris, then put the finger in her mouth. She could taste herself, her mind flashed across all the women she had been with, the women she had tasted, and something else.
“Is it, mustard sir?
“Good for you. Down to sixteen pretty slave girl.”
He put his head between her legs licking the mustard off her clitoris, she moaned.
“Last one, and it’s dealer’s choice.”
She felt something gritty being rubbed on her clitoris.
“Is it pepper?” she said quickly. It felt hot.
“Sorry pretty slave girl, you should have got that one. After all it is one of your many names.”
“Cinnamon?” she asked.
“Excuse me,” he said his voice raised.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Master, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Master.”
“You clearly have a distinct understanding of the word forever, I thought, and correct me if I wrong”, he said his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you promised that particular indiscretion would never happen again.”
“This is a punishment that I will enjoy.
“Oh, my goodness.”
“But I can be benevolent. I tell you what. If I use the riding crop, it drops to eight. Pretty slave girl’s choice.”
“Can… master… can I do a combination?”
“Certainly.”
“Then…then.. then master please eight spanks and four with the riding crop.”
“Very good. We’ll reduce the spanks to 6 and the riding crop to two in honor of your excellent math skills.
She counted out the spanks as he had asked. The two sharp slaps with the riding crop were accompanied her cries of pain. He then undressed, left her tied as she was and had his way with her, each thrust filled with pleasure and pain as he moved against her very red bottom. They came together.
He pulled himself out and then untied her. Lay next her and said, “Was that fun, Love?”
“Oh my god, that was amazing.”
He kissed her with great tenderness. “I’ll be right back.” He arose went downstairs and returned with a warm wet wash cloth a towel and ointment. He cleaned her gently, dried her, and then kissed her clitoris. Then turned her over and applied the ointment to her very red bottom.
“After that,” he said, “I can’t imagine what’s in store for me.”
“Yeah,” she said, raising one eyebrow, “just you wait, enry iggins, just you wait."
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