Reading Allowed	Back to T	Back to main page

Collected by Djian
updated june 28 - 2010

another story by Zenmackie | Teaching Carol

WARNING: This story contains strong themes of coercion and forced
sexual behavior. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only,
and the writer does not in any way suggest or condone similar
behavior.

M/f, cons, D/s, humil, spank, exhib, spank

1 | 2 |

Reading Allowed
By lamignonne and Zenmackie

zenmackie (at) yahoo (dot) com

Part 8

Marie felt wretched. While he was gone, it had been easy to nurture her feelings of resentment towards him for leaving her alone all day, tied up and bored, and suffering acutely from her unsatisfied lust. As the long day had worn on, her jaw aching more by the hour, her stomach growling, her body cold and bruised and her head more often than not in one of his toilets, Marie’s frustration had grown and grown. She’d even started to feel like she was justified in snooping around in his study. After all, she’d given up her whole weekend for him and he hadn’t even seen fit to stay at home!

Marie hadn’t been able to form any kind of resolve about how she was going to behave when her Master came home, other than the vague idea that she certainly deserved some attention from him and would be prepared to communicate just that if she didn’t get any. But her resolution wavered the second she sensed him in the bathroom. He’d startled her, standing there so quietly while she worked, squashed up against the toilet for all the world as if she were embracing it. She’d dropped the cleaning brush and it had splashed her, and just like that, she was at a disadvantage. As usual.

As she’d struggled to kneel the way he liked, Marie tried to cope with the confusing riot of emotions that she was feeling. On the one hand, she was still mad at him, anxious to show him that she didn’t appreciate his leaving her; on the other, his presence overwhelmed her, intruded even on her carefully nourished anger, and all her instincts were screaming at her to throw herself at his feet and show him her joy and relief that he’d returned. Her desire to have her suffering acknowledged by him warred with the desire to suffer still more, to do anything he wanted as long as he would smile at her and tell her she was a good girl. She could feel him studying her and trembled. Her urge to grovel grew stronger as he approached her, overpowering her with his presence, torturing her with suspense. As he gripped her chin and raised her face to look in her eyes, Marie had panicked, terrified he’d be able to see her every disloyal, petulant thought, and then she had made the terrible choice to show him her anger.

How quickly he’d put her in her place, she thought miserably now. In truth, he’d had all the power from the moment he’d come into the bathroom, had controlled her more efficiently with just his presence than his chains had been able to do throughout the long day. He stood before her and her body shook with the desire to kneel; he humiliated her and she craved his approval beyond every other need. She had tried defiance just this once, confronting him with nothing more than the look in her eyes, and his reaction had been immediate, painful and devastatingly effective. Marie had realized again, with excruciating clarity, that her attitude was still all wrong. It was her privilege to be allowed to spend the weekend with him, her undeserved honor that he was willing to teach her. After all, she hadn’t been a very good slave…

She clung to his ankles, her forehead resting on his feet, trying to control her sobs and hoping against hope that her obvious contrition would mollify his displeasure with her. At long last, he spoke.

“You’re getting toilet-water all over my shoes.”

The mildness of his tone, with its bare hint of amusement, filled her with such relief and delight that Marie felt like scampering around the bathroom and wagging her tail like the good little doggie she wanted to be for him. But she made herself hold perfectly still for a moment, then slowly raised her face to his again and, trying very hard not to smile, said, “I’m sorry, Master.”

Yes! His expression was now one of bemused affection; he was no longer angry with her! Oh, thank God.

He grabbed a hand-towel from a nearby rack, roughly dried her face and hair with it then threw it down on the floor beside her. Marie knew he was expecting her to use it to dry his shoes.

Instead she once more lowered her head….and began licking them clean.

It didn’t take long—less than a minute—to complete the task, but something about it, the complete and utter abasement of kneeling at his feet, naked and in chains, licking toilet water from his shoes, was setting her on fire. She had no time to analyze it—all she knew was she had to have his cock in her mouth—now.

She sat up. Her eyes flickered up to him once—he was frowning down at her, but not angrily. He seemed intent, as if he was trying to guess at her thoughts. Feeling suddenly sure of herself, Marie leaned forward and placed a kiss on the front of his pants where his erection strained against the fabric. She nuzzled her cheek there and looked up at him again, holding his gaze this time. “Please, Master,” she said, “may I suck your cock?”

They were both a little stunned. Marie couldn’t believe how strong and confident her voice had sounded. Her pussy flooded with moisture at the sound of the words; her eyes sparkled with excitement. Even though he’d just spanked her, even though her hair was wet with toilet water and she was naked and chained, this felt right.

As for her Master, he couldn’t get his pants open fast enough. He’d think about what her behavior meant in a few minutes—right now, he focused on Marie’s hot, talented little mouth as she bent to her work. Good God, it felt like she was trying to swallow him whole!

Marie was overtaken by a strange sort of frenzy. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of his cock in her mouth. Her captive hands reached for his balls and her fingers lifted them, rubbed them, and squeezed them gently all the while her face was pressed against his groin, her throat full of him. She massaged the spot below his balls and her tongue went into overdrive on his shaft.

This was one time he wasn’t worried about coming too soon. He thought he was going to die of pleasure… He lost control as he came, grabbing her head and thrusting himself violently down her throat. She swallowed gamely, and when he finally opened his eyes, still breathing hard, she was kneeling there smiling at him.

He could hardly believe it. She had just begged to be allowed to pleasure him. She’d begged him before, to gain her own pleasure or because he’d ordered her to, but this was different. He’d never have expected her to reach this stage of submission so soon. And he knew she’d been sincere. Even now, she was still grinning like he’d just given her a present.

What was it about this girl that she’d gotten under his skin so fast? To be truthful, he’d come home earlier than he’d planned, anxious to see how his little slave had fared in his absence. He’d had to conceal a hard-on quite a few times throughout the day, every time he pictured her humping his fingers as she had this morning or the desperate, pleading look on her face when she realized he was going to leave her bound and frustrated. What a homecoming he’d gotten! And they still had all evening to spend together before he really ought to be getting her back to campus. They’d eat first—and then he had a few things he wanted to try.

Her Master hadn’t said anything, and he’d only given her the briefest of smiles, but Marie knew he was pleased with her. She tensed just a little as he reached down and hauled her to her feet—grabbing her elbow this time, instead of her hair—surely that was a good sign. He tossed her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry and headed for the stairs. Marie felt a little panicky as she realized that, with her hands bound by her neck, she had no way to break her fall if he dropped her, but his grip was firm and the feeling subsided. Now, as he entered the kitchen—the scene of her imprudence that morning—she just had to worry about what he would do with her next.

It seemed that they had both learned a lesson from that morning’s encounter: when they reached the kitchen table he simply put her down next to his chair, lifting the table leg to secure the end of her leash as she took her kneeling pose. He said not one word to her about cooking, and Marie allowed herself a small grin as she watched him preparing dinner.

It was a simple meal; he steamed some rice and sautéed a few chopped vegetables, tossing in some bits of cold chicken from the refrigerator. But he added spices like a master chef--a pinch of one, a sprinkle of another, tasting and nodding to himself. The air began to fill with a deliciously complex aroma and Marie was forcefully reminded that she’d had nothing to eat since breakfast, unless she counted her Master’s come. If she still had her ball-gag on, she knew, she’d be drooling all over herself. As it was she simply swallowed hard, kept her position tight and her attention on him, hoping that her stomach wouldn’t gurgle and embarrass her as it had that morning.

Yet even though she was famished, not to mention ragingly horny, she became aware that underlying all the physical and emotional turbulence lay a very unfamiliar sensation: serenity. Her needs were no longer her concern—her Master would take care of them in due time, and that’s all she needed to know. She felt a contented smile creep across her face.

Her smile only widened when she saw him reach down into a cabinet next to the stove and bring out a shining aluminum dog bowl. She knew it was for her, and she brushed away the troublesome thought that it already been there and not purchased especially for her. Maybe he used to have a dog. Or maybe…no, she would not think about that. This moment—now—was all there needed to be.

She gave him her most loving smile as he set the bowl, filled to the brim with steaming food, on the floor beside her before setting his plate on the table. She followed him with her eyes and then her body, shuffling around on her knees to remain facing towards him as he pulled out his chair and sat. She gave not the slightest glance to her bowl of food—it was not hers until he said it was.

When he was settled in place he turned to look at her, and to Marie it was obvious that he was pleased with what he saw: that his slave was simply waiting, giving him her complete and silent attention. He actually beamed at her and caressed the side of her face with his hand, and Marie felt as though she would melt with happiness. After a moment he withdrew his hand and said, “You must be starving, princess. Please go ahead.”

“Thank you, Master,” Marie replied, wishing she could kiss him just then. She turned away and bent down to her bowl…and was quite pleased to discover that he had placed it so that while she ate she would be displaying her upraised ass and pussy for his pleasure. She began to eat.

Marie’s hands had reached out automatically to steady herself as she bent over the dog bowl, only to be jerked back by the chains holding them to her collar. She was suddenly mindful of her discomfort again. She hadn’t been able to straighten her arms for hours, now, and the urge to stretch her elbows was driving her crazy. Marie tried to focus on the food, which was fragrant and delicious and which she was eating way too fast, but her mind kept wandering. Would he let her spend the night again? She could get all her homework done tomorrow, if she was diligent, and it would be totally worth it if he’d fuck her again tonight, and hold her like he had last night as she fell asleep.

Before she knew it, Marie found herself licking the bowl clean. She’d scarfed her dinner down with undignified haste, and blushed rosily as she realized her Master had probably only taken a few civilized bites by now. She really was just like his pet. Well, in for a pound...Marie thought, and shuffled on her knees over to his chair to lay her head on his knee. She held her breath, hoping for some sign of approval from him, and sure enough, a moment later she felt his hand resting lightly on her head. Another moment passed, and he stroked her hair. Marie felt her chest expand with happiness.

Several minutes later, he gently tugged on her hair to get her to sit up. He held a glass of water for her while she drank, waiting until she had finished it. He, she saw, was drinking from an expensive-looking bottle of red wine. A few more minutes passed while he savored his wine, then he stood and retrieved a clean dishcloth, wet it, and came back to clean Marie’s face. She blushed anew. She certainly hadn’t been worried about keeping her face clean while she ate, she realized now. She was vaguely surprised that he did it silently, making no attempt to humiliate her further. Was that because he had more challenges in store for her later this evening?

Marie watched as her Master performed only the most rudimentary clean-up of the kitchen. Leaving the dishes for later didn’t seem like his style, and she smiled to herself, imagining that he was in a hurry to play some more with her—his toy.

She wasn’t far off, if she’d known it. The impromptu blow job in the bathroom might as well have never happened for all the difference it made to his cock, which was again hard as a rock. He deliberately kept the wine bottle in one hand while he freed Marie’s leash from the table leg and led her into the living room. He knew from experience that if he had a few more swallows he’d be able to last a lot longer, and he definitely wanted to drag this next experience out as long as possible.

Leaving Marie kneeling in front of his oversized arm chair, he set the wine down on the end table there and went upstairs to get a few supplies. He was pleased to see, on his way back down, that her eyes hadn’t strayed from the stairway; she was avidly watching for his return. The apprehension in her gaze was adorable, and as he sat in the chair in front of her he took a moment just to look her over. Then he leaned forward and unlocked the chains at her wrists.

He watched her eyes fill with tears as she tried, with excruciating slowness, to straighten her arms for the first time in hours. He let her struggle for a moment, then he reached for her hands, saying, “It’s easier if you do it all at once”—and yanked her arms straight before she could react.

Marie gasped, but as the blood flowed freely into her stiff joints, she saw that he was right. She flexed her arms for a few minutes, unable to keep back a sigh of pleasure as the pain and stiffness eased.

She wasn’t going to be relieved for long. “Turn around,” he ordered suddenly, “and give me your hands.” She obeyed, turning her back to him and holding her hands behind her. He cuffed them together, then used a leather cinch he’d brought down on her upper arms just above her elbows, pulling it tight and watching her shoulder blades point out and her back arch, hearing her gasp. He bent to unlock the short chain between her ankles then said, “Face me.”

Perfect. His little pet, arching her back to relieve the strain on her arms, looked as if she were presenting her tits for his pleasure. He was also surprised and pleased to see that she’d spread her knees apart after he’d unlocked them, and he could already see the telltale sheen of moisture on her pussy. She was panting, but whether it was from arousal or the pain in her bound arms he couldn’t tell. He leaned back in the chair and took a sip of wine, then said, “What did you think about today, Princess?”

Her eyes flickered up to his--then she lowered them modestly. “I missed you, Sir,” she said quietly.

He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. “And did you like cleaning the house for me?”

Marie only debated for a second—he’d know if she lied, she reasoned—but she couldn’t look at him.. “No, Sir.”

“Why not?”

“It was—I was bored, Sir,” she stammered. He could tell she wanted to add something, so he waited. “But—but I’ll be happy to do it again, Sir, if you let me.”

“Why is that, Princess?”

“Because I like…obeying your orders, Sir.” Her voice nearly died at the end of her reply, but he was satisfied. This must be the result of the epiphany she’d seemed to have in the bathroom earlier. Unquestionably, she’d been angry with him before he came home, but now she seemed to have come to a better understanding, and acceptance, of her role as his pet—all on her own. However, it couldn’t hurt to give her some additional encouragement.

“And I like giving them to you, pet,” he said, smiling at her. “You did very well today.”

He watched her face glow with happiness for a moment, then he brought out the nipple clamps. These were a different pair than the one she’d worn last night; they had a gentler bite, but came adorned with tacky pink plastic hearts that dangled on a thin, short chain about an inch and a half long. Remembering her face as she’d looked at the purple, heart-shaped paddle in the store, he guessed that wearing these would humiliate his princess more than wearing the plain ones had. Indeed, she looked chagrined at the sight of them, but bravely maintained her posture, her chest still thrust towards him invitingly. He took advantage of that for a few minutes, fondling and teasing, and she didn’t flinch from him even when he twisted and pulled her nipples, although she winced and whimpered a little. He even slapped her breasts a few times, noting that they were just large enough to bounce when he did it. This was going to be great.

Her face flamed as he attached the clips and she felt the dangling hearts brushing against the underside of her breasts. He thought he’d never get tired of seeing that blush. He jiggled her breasts, just to rub it in a little, then very deliberately removed his pants and boxers and leaned back in the chair. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his fully-erect cock, and she actually licked her lips, making him want to laugh. “Climb on, princess,” he said, some of his amusement leaking into his voice.

She looked at him like she wasn’t sure he was serious, then stood up eagerly and way too fast. She teetered for a moment, throwing one foot behind her to catch her balance, then more carefully moved toward his chair. He helped her, reaching for her waist and settling her over his lap, her knees balanced on the chair’s seat on either side of him. There was plenty of room for her legs on the wide seat, and she looked down into his face as she hovered there, leaning forward slightly to keep her balance. Her pussy, visibly wet, was mere inches from his upthrust cock, and they were both breathing heavily already. “Two rules, Princess,” he said, his voice rough with arousal. “First, you can come as much as you want—but you have to tell me, every time. Second, I want to see these—” he flicked the dangling hearts on her nipple clamps “—in motion. If they stop moving, we’re done. And, Princess, break either rule, and I will punish you.”

He watched her shudder with desire at his words. “Yes, Master,” she said, her voice as hoarse as his. He gripped her hips and helped her lower herself onto him, inch by pleasurable inch. As their hips finally met, he felt her grinding against him, finally stimulating her clit, which had been aching all day to be touched. But, mindful of rule number two, she didn’t linger there, but started to ride him, rising up on her knees, then sinking down and taking his whole length again. It was hard, because with her hands bound behind her, she could rely only on her leg muscles both for balance and to move over him. Her tummy muscles clenched with her efforts to keep upright and not tip forward or backward.

She’d only humped him twice when she suddenly threw her head back, moaning, “Oh, oh God, Sir, I’m going to come!” Her cry ended on a gasp and he felt her clench on him, felt the rush of moisture where their bodies were joined, and it was all he had not to come himself. “Keep fucking me—keep going, Princess,” he rasped, restraining himself from grabbing her hips and setting his own rhythm. She started humping him furiously as she rode out her orgasm, her head back and her mouth open, and he watched a fiery blush spread over her face and down her chest. She didn’t seem to be breathing, but just as he was going to intervene, she sucked in a huge breath of air and slowed down slightly.

The slower speed was almost better. He could have sworn she was clenching on him each time she rose up, her pussy squeezing every inch of him as if it were afraid to let go. He had no idea if she was doing it on purpose or not, but that, combined with the sight of the clamps bouncing on her chest, had him close to coming again within a few seconds. He couldn’t resist reaching up to pull on the clamps, and that set her off again, and as she started to come she cried, “Sir, oh, I can’t help it, I’m com—” Again, she lost the end of her sentence as her whole body tensed in rapture. It lasted even longer this time, and when it finally stopped he was gripping the arms of the chair in a desperate attempt to hold back his own orgasm.

She didn’t slow this time, but continued to fuck him rhythmically, at an almost frantic pace. She was putting all she had into it, slamming her pelvis down onto him with each thrust. Her whole body was covered with a sheen of sweat and her face was beet red. Her thighs must have been burning by now, but she obviously had more in her. He wondered what some dirty talk would do to her, so he tried it, growling, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, you horny little cunt! You can’t help yourself, can you? Such a dirty slut!”

It worked—she howled as she started to come again, just barely managing to gasp out, “Com—coming!” before her pussy contracted like a vise. He felt her squirting again and suddenly couldn’t help himself any longer. He grabbed her hips and started slamming her down onto his cock himself, grunting as he neared his climax. She had recovered somewhat and tried to urge him on, saying, “Yes, Master, I’m your dirty slut!”—and then she felt his hot load filling her, and lost herself again. He might not have seen it, so lost was he in the throes of orgasm, but that she lost her balance, tipping backwards as she closed her eyes against the surprising onslaught of pleasure. He had to quickly shift his grip to keep her upright, and even as he experienced his final shudders of pleasure, he was thinking of how much he’d enjoy teaching his slave a lesson about breaking the rules.

Part 9

Marie was still straddling him, eyes closed and trying to catch her breath, her body still shuddering with the pleasure of her final orgasm, when he pushed her off his lap and onto the floor. With her arms still cinched behind her she had no way to stop her fall or brace herself for the impact, and she cried out as she fell. She landed flat on her back, wrenching her shoulders painfully in the process, and cried out a second time.

She was not the least bit puzzled, however. She knew she had failed to inform him before she came the last time and that there would now be consequences. There was a moment of apprehension…which to her surprise dissolved almost immediately, absorbed into the pool of serene acceptance which now lay at her core. She didn’t care about anything just then, as she lay on the floor, still shaking with the occasional aftershocks of her climax. He would punish her, yes. And that was as it should be and she was glad of it.

As he stood up, seeming to tower over her as she lay looking up at him, she couldn’t help herself: she gave him a smile that held all the love she felt for him in that moment.

Amazingly, he didn’t seem angry. He looked a little exasperated, maybe, as she shook his head at her, then he made an impatient motion with his hand and said curtly, “Turn over.”

Marie rolled, with some difficulty, to her stomach, her heart speeding up again as he stood over her at her feet. He can do anything he wants to me, she thought, shivering in anticipation. He knows I’ll take it—and thank him afterwards. She could feel his eyes on her as they both savored her helplessness and subjection.

She didn’t know what she expected—blows from some mysteriously-appearing implement to start falling on her, maybe—but she was surprised when all he did was reach down and remove the cinch above her elbows. She sighed in relief as her shoulders relaxed, but he left her hands cuffed.

He told her to get up and she struggled to her knees first, craning her neck to look up at him as she said quietly, “Thank you for letting me fuck you, Master.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond, only took her by the elbow once she’d stood and steered her to the stairs. Once at the top, he gave her a gentle push toward the bathroom. Suddenly realizing how badly she needed to use the toilet, Marie scampered in, somewhat relieved that he didn’t follow her. At least he wasn’t going to watch this time.

But, a few seconds later, Marie made the uncomfortable discovery that with her hands still bound, she had no way to clean herself. He’d set out a toothbrush for her, she saw—she must be spending the night, she thought happily—but she wouldn’t be able to use it. Knowing her Master, this was not an oversight. Well, she had no choice. “Um, Master?” she called, but her voice came out hoarse and weak. She tried again. “Master, will you come and help me—please?”

He appeared in the doorway—grinning, the bastard. Marie hurriedly spread her legs and watched him practically swell with satisfaction.

“Wider,” he ordered, just because he could, and she obeyed him. He helped her finish up, brushed her teeth for her, even brushed her hair until she was melting under his attentions. He stood behind her at the sink, and she met his eyes in the mirror as he massaged her sore shoulders, his strong fingers running over her silky skin. Suddenly unmindful that he didn’t like her to speak out of turn, she blurted, “You’re so handsome, Master!”

He turned her to face him and tipped her chin up, his twinkling eyes giving the lie to his grave tone. “Are you trying to flatter me, Princess?”

Marie’s eyes widened and she hastened to say, “Oh, no, Sir—that is, I was just—just voicing my thoughts.”

“Good. Because it won’t get you out of your punishment.”

She felt her knees go weak—and not with fear. “You could spank me, Sir,” she breathed.

He reacted immediately—grabbing her hair, wrenching her head back and swiftly ripping off her nipple clamps with his other hand. While she gasped in pain, he growled, “What I should do is leash you to the end of the bed and make you sleep on the floor.”

Marie felt crushed. Oh, how could she have doubted for a moment that he knew exactly how to punish her, really punish her and make her suffer? Not getting to share his bed tonight was the worst thing he could do to her right now, when all she wanted was to be close to him, to have his attention. “Please don’t do that, Master,” she pleaded. “I’m really, really, sorry—please punish me some other way, please!”

He watched her bottom lip trembling. God, he loved making her beg, especially beg for punishment, like she was now. He pushed her back so that she half-stood, half-sat on the edge of the sink. He forced her legs apart with his hands and then began to swat her pussy, hard, as he replied, “Then stop…telling me…what…to do with you!”

Marie held his gaze even as her eyes overflowed. She bit her lip and whimpered as each slap landed between her legs but she kept perfectly still until she was sure he had finished. Then she slid to the floor and took her kneeling position, wrists still cuffed behind her, looking up at him with tears rolling down her face. “I’m so sorry, Master,” she whispered. “I’m your property, to do with as you wish, whenever you wish. I promise I’ll never forget again.” And with that she leaned back, sliding down the cabinet behind her until her shoulders, and then her head touched the floor, her legs sliding out from beneath her.

He stepped back, uncertain of what she was doing, and watched as she placed her feet on the floor, wide apart, and raised her hips as high as she could, offering him her slap-reddened pussy.

“Yours, Master,” she said, her voice strained from keeping her position. “Only yours.”

Damn, how did she do it? How did she get to him like that? He wanted to pick her up in his arms and hold her. He wanted to drop to his knees and fuck her just as she was. He felt himself stirring—again!—even though he had just come a few minutes ago. She brought out things in him he had never felt before…or had felt so long ago that he had forgotten. He had to fight to maintain his severe expression.

To distract himself he leaned down and gently separated her pussy lips with thumb & forefinger. Using his free hand, the one still holding the nipple clamps, he used the tip of his forefinger to stroke her clitoris. Not surprisingly it responded quickly to his ministrations, swelling up like a tiny cock as he watched. He heard a soft moan from Marie and saw that she had her eyes closed and was beginning to breathe heavily through her nose. He kept stroking her long enough to make sure that she was under his spell. Then he quickly opened one of the clamps and used it to seize her clitoris.

Marie shrieked. “Oh god! No! Please take it off, Master! Oh god, please!” …But she held her position.

He admired her for that—even though these weren’t his strongest clamps, it had to hurt like hell. And now her legs were starting to shake from the pain and the strain of holding her hips up off the ground. But he didn’t want her to get complacent, and start thinking she could breeze through a punishment with her dignity intact. He knew that with time she’d learn not to presume, but for now, he had to put her in her place before he could hold her again.

He knelt straddling her legs, then, deliberately, he reached down and dragged his fingernail over her engorged clit where it was trapped in the clamp.

It worked; she shrieked, collapsed, and tried to roll away, but was prevented when he rested his knees on her thighs, effectively keeping her legs open and holding her in place. “You say this is mine?” he asked her, his voice low but intense.

“Yes, Master…”

“Then ask me to do it again.”

She moaned, felt herself getting wetter, despite her discomfort, and made an anguished effort to obey him, but all that came out was a whimpered, “Please…”

He slapped her lightly across the face, and she stopped thrashing her head around and looked at him. “Ask me.”

Pinned by his gaze, she choked out, “Please—touch me again, Master!”, and then he watched her eyes widen in alarm as he slowly brought his hand down to her spread open crotch. When he was millimeters away she lost it, bucking, wringing her hands in their cuffs behind her back, and whimpering, and the feeling of power that rushed through him was intoxicating. God, he loved this, having this beautiful, vivacious creature entirely under his thumb—so to speak. He scraped his nail over her again and she broke out in a sweat, and then started babbling apologies.

Well, there was no hope for it now, he thought. He was going to have to fuck her again. Without hesitating he rose and then yanked his wobbly slave to her feet, marching her swiftly into the bedroom. He pushed her down on her back on the bed, her head near the middle of the mattress and her legs dangling over the floor at the foot. Moving quickly, he snatched some silky ropes out of a drawer and swiftly and efficiently tied Marie’s right ankle to the tall bedpost, as high up as it would go. He did the same with her left ankle, so that she was left on her back, her hands cuffed behind her, and her legs spread wide and pointing straight up into the air. Fumbling with his pants, he took his place between her legs and plunged into her wet pussy at the same time as he pulled the clamp off.

Marie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a strangled scream as heady sensations overcame her. Her clit throbbed and stung as the blood rushed back into it, and meanwhile his cock was buried deep inside her. And then she gasped and started to struggle as he began fucking her, remorselessly rubbing her swollen and sensitive clit in rhythm to his thrusts. Sweet Jesus, he was going to kill her—the pleasure she felt now was so akin to pain, so mixed up with it, that she couldn’t assimilate it.

Only his voice, rough with urgent desire, kept her from passing out. “Whose pussy is this?” he demanded, his fingers squeezing her clit, his hips pounding against her ass as he fucked her.

“Yours, Master!” she screamed.

He was breathing hard, fucking her savagely—“And I can do what I want with it. Right, slave?”

“Yes, oh, yes, Master!” She was sobbing now, as she felt her besieged senses bringing her close to orgasm. “Yes, punish me, do what you want with me, Master, I’m your—your propertyyyyyy!” Her cries ended on a wail as she came explosively, squeezing his cock so hard he came himself, then paused just long enough to untie her legs before he collapsed next to her. Neither of them could move for several minutes.

Marie drifted away into sweet lassitude, her bodily pains somewhere beyond a distant horizon, coming back to herself only when she felt his hand gently brushing away the hair that had fallen across her face. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. She loved being like this: laying beneath him, completely surrendered and open, the center of his attention. She smiled timidly and asked, “Am I forgiven, Master?”

Instead of answering he drew away from her and stood up, and for one terrifying moment Marie was afraid she had offended him again by asking. He rolled her onto her stomach. She could no longer see, but she heard his footsteps padding across the room and then disappearing down the stairs. She had offended him, and he was going to get something with which he could whip her, she was sure of it. She found that she was perfectly fine with the prospect of further punishment if that’s what he felt she deserved…but the thought that she had displeased him again hurt her to the heart.

She was already composing an apology in her mind when she heard his returning footsteps. She waited. The footsteps came to the side of the bed and stopped. He seized her wrists in one hand and Marie was prepared to be dragged off the bed, or held there and flogged or…. anything but the click of her handcuffs being unlocked and then removed. Anything but being gently rolled onto her back and taken in his arms as he lay down beside her. Anything but being kissed tenderly and told, “Yes, you’re forgiven, princess,” and then kissed again.

Marie had to duck her head, faintly ashamed at the thought of him seeing how powerfully he affected her emotions. She nuzzled her cheek against his warm chest and tried to blink back her tears. Would there ever come a day when his approval made her feel only mild satisfaction? Surely she wouldn’t always be this overwhelmed with joy and relief when she pleased him… She needed to get a grip. In an attempt to distract herself, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head: “Are you mad that I can’t cook?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t it have been nice to have a slave who was capable in the kitchen?” he mused, teasing her. “Fortunately, I’m competent enough for us both, I think.”

“Yes, Master—thank you for the lovely meals,” Marie hurried to say.

“How do you manage when I’m not around?” He was genuinely curious.

Marie grimaced, thinking of how frequently she ate cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—how horrified he’d be to hear of that, she thought! “You don’t want to know,” she muttered.

There was a brief pause, and Marie continued to hide her face from him. Strangely, she didn’t feel at all sleepy now. There was a sort of tension between them, things they needed to talk about.

Finally he broke the silence, murmuring, “How are you feeling now, princess?”

Suddenly realizing she’d been holding her breath, Marie exhaled shakily. “I feel…well…” she hesitated, trying to put her myriad emotions into words. Just then he rolled to the side so that she found herself on her back, his weight on her legs and hips, while he braced himself on his elbows, looming over her. She felt comfortable this way, with his power so clearly defined in their respective positions, despite the way his authority made her heart beat faster. She put her arms around him gratefully. He slipped his fingers into her hair on either side of her head, stroking the line of her jaw with his thumbs and tilting her face up, so she finally looked into his eyes. “I feel like I’m drugged,” Marie finally blurted, the admission coming out in a whoosh of breath. “It’s—you—are…intoxicating,” she tried to explain. “I—I really don’t know how I’m going to go back to my normal, boring life. With you, every minute I’m feeling something. It’s…dizzying.”

She searched his face to see how he was reacting to this, but as usual he gave nothing away. A moment later, though, he moved his hand and idly closed it over her breast, his hot palm brushing her nipple. Immediately, she gave a little gasp and arched her back, trying to push her chest towards him in invitation.

“Such passion,” he murmured. He didn’t tell her this, but his feelings since meeting her were not dissimilar. This thing between them may have started as a game, as far as he was concerned, but it had quickly become something much more important, something all too real. He pictured her as she’d been on that first night, passion warring with uncertainty in her demeanor, spread out naked on that table in the back room, her pussy swollen and wet for him even as she writhed in the pain from her clamped nipples. Even he could not have guessed how easily she would become his slave, how completely she fell into the role once given the chance.

He wondered how she’d feel if she knew he’d been watching her, on and off, for most of the day; that the ‘security’ cameras installed all over the house provided a live feed to his computer that he could access from his cell phone? He’d never been able to watch for more than a minute or so at a time, and only when he was alone, of course, which hadn’t been often that day. But he’d checked as often as he could, knowing that with her hands chained the way they’d been there was some danger of her falling or otherwise injuring herself, and he’d been prepared to rush back to the house on a moment’s notice if need be. Not to mention the immense satisfaction it gave him to watch his sweet, naked little slave struggling to serve him obediently even when he wasn’t there to oversee her, even when she so obviously hated what she was doing.

Such sweetness, such passion…such complete surrender. Yes, he was becoming at least as intoxicated with her as she was with him…and he wasn’t at all sure that was a good thing. He was glad that the weekend was nearly over. They both needed to catch their breath.

He leaned down and kissed each of her nipples in turn, tenderly. Then he raised his face to hers. “Your ‘normal’ life is never going to be boring for you again, princess. From now on, no matter how far apart we are, no matter where you are or what you’re doing you will always be aware of what makes you different from everyone else in the world.”

He fell silent, and waited. Marie looked up at him, her eyes shining, and whispered, “That I belong to you, Master.”

He made no reply, other than to lean down and kiss her on the mouth. He lingered there, gathering her up in his arms and crushing her to him as if trying to pull her all the way inside his body. It was a long time before he let her go. Then he rolled off her and onto his back, pulling her with him so that she nestled into his shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

They slept.


Marie awoke, feeling him gently caressing her hair. It was still dark outside, with just the barest wash of gray hinting at the approach of dawn. He was standing next to the bed, leaning over her. As she became more awake she saw the he was fully dressed—and that he was holding her collar and leash in his hands.

“Time to go, princess,” he said softly.

Marie’s heart sank within her. She’d hoped they’d wake up together, snuggle in bed for a while, maybe fuck again, shower together and have a leisurely breakfast—prepared by him, of course—before he sent her on her way. Oh god, she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him at all—why did it have to be like this? The life she’d been leading contentedly enough just a few days ago now stretched before her like an endless desert. Still, he was here now, holding her collar and leash…

She obediently sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, lowering her head and offering her neck for him to close the collar around. Instead, she felt his lips there, warm, soft and a little dry, and this show of tenderness, especially when she was already feeling so vulnerable, had the effect of making her burst into tears, fall to her knees and throw her arms around his legs, sobbing, “Please don’t make me go, Master! Please! Let me stay here…I’ll clean the house, I’ll…I’ll learn how to cook, I promise! I’ll…I’ll…” She dissolved into incoherent sobs, her head against his thigh, her shoulders shaking.

She felt her arms being gently disengaged as he knelt down to face her, taking her hands in his own. He waited for her to raise her eyes to his. “You belong to me,” he began, softly. “You are my most precious possession.” He reached up to cup her face in hands and used his thumbs to brush away the tears as he continued, “But that’s not all you are…and neither one of us would be happy for long if you tried to be.” He pulled her forward until her head rested on his shoulder and began stroking her hair. “I’m going to take you home. You’re going to do your homework, answer your email, catch up with things. Tomorrow you’ll go to your classes, talk with your friends, live your life just as you’ve been doing.” He pulled her away from his shoulder and looked into her eyes. “You will not contact me or come here or to my store until Friday night, is that understood?”

Marie, white-faced, her expression stricken, gave the barest of nods and whispered, “Yes, Master.”

He reached down for the collar, which he had dropped to the floor, and fastened it around her neck. “You will wear this at all times, except when you shower.”

Marie felt oddly comforted as the cool steel settled onto her collarbones, and she gave him a tremulous smile as she answered, a little more firmly, “Yes, Master.” She ignored the tiny voice at the back of her mind asking how she would explain the collar to her friends.

He stood then, raising her to her feet along with him, and embraced her once more, holding her closely to him for a long moment. When he released her and stepped back Marie saw that he had picked up the leash as well; she stood meekly while he attached it to the collar.

He led her downstairs, out the door and into the elevator. He took her down to the garage and helped her into his van, and they drove in silence through the empty streets and the lightening sky until they reached the run-down apartment building where she lived, near to the college. Marie didn’t dare to ask how he knew where to go. She was also becoming more and more aware of the fact that she was still completely naked except for her collar and leash. That she hadn’t had a shower since…she couldn’t remember how long ago it had been but it felt like days. That she smelled of sweat and sex…and Him.

But when the van pulled over to the curb and stopped she simply waited to be told what to do, her gaze locked on him. He got out of the van, came around to her side, opened the door and indicated, by taking her leash in hand and giving it a gentle tug, that she was to get out. She obediently climbed down and stood facing him on the sidewalk, naked, arms at her sides, giving him her complete attention. It was cool enough outside to goosepimple her flesh, and the sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon. She willed herself not to shiver. But it was hard not to, standing at the borderline between her two lives like that.

He reached up and unfastened the leash from her collar, wrapping it lightly around his wrist. He turned away for a moment, sliding open the back door of the van and reaching inside. When he turned to face her again Marie saw that his arms were full of the clothes she had left behind when he’d taken her out of the bookstore a lifetime ago. He handed them to her—even her panties, both sets on top of the pile, naturally—then reached into the van again, coming up with her purse, which he added to the pile, much to Marie’s relief, considering that it held all her keys, among other things.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. He ran his hands lightly over her behind for a moment then leaned forward over the pile of clothes in her arms and gave her a kiss full of warmth and affection. He pulled back and looked into her eyes and Marie saw that what he had said earlier was true: she was his slave, yes, but she was more than that. Especially to him.

He left without another word, climbing into his van and driving off. Marie stood there watching until the van was lost in the glare of the rising sun, then turned and walked slowly to the door of her building, not caring if anyone saw her or not.

>> prev

Back to T Collection | back to main page