`“So, tell me, what was it you wanted?”
“Oh, you know,” said the slightly-rebellious slave, half-smiling.
The Mistress smiled sweetly in reply.
“Oh, no, that just won't cut it.” His snarky smile grew wider.
Without warning she slapped him across the face with a crop he hadn't seen in her hand. Not a hard slap, just enough to sting and leave a small red square on his cheek. His shoulders sagged and the smile evaporated.
“Yeah.” Her smile slipped from sweet to cruel.
“I...” he gulped, “I want to be your bitch, mainly. Mistress.”
“Get on your knees, then.” He knelt slowly before her, his head low, and stared at her feet. Black leather stiletto heels that brought her almost to the same standing height as him. His heart started beating harder.
“My bitch?” She said. “And what else?”
“Your slave. Your toy. Your... slut.” He loved and hated that word. It sent his pulse skyrocketing with shame, fear, and desire.
“All that and more, pet. Go get your cuffs.”
He went to his safe and pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs on a long chain, hoping she'd accept them and not make him use the other ones. Or at least not notice them until things were underway...
“Show me. I want to be sure you got the right ones.” His hopes most likely shattered, he held them up to her. She glared, stalked over, and cracked the crop against the other side of his face. “Wrong, slut. Your cuffs. The pink ones.”
She turned her back as he sighed and replaced the silver police cuffs, and drew out the demeaning, hot-pink cuffs on the short chain. She knew he would never attempt to disobey or misinterpret the order a second time. She sat in a comfortable, tall-backed armchair and beckoned to him.
“Come here.” He walked over and she took the cuffs from him, chaining his wrists together in front of him. “Now go get me a drink. Rum and coke.” He turned and walked to the bar set against the far wall. She watched his ass, plotting. He returned in short order with her drink. She sipped at it and crossed her knees, the short black skirt, trimmed in red, sliding up slightly higher, showing a bit more of her pale thighs. He watched silently, drooling in his head but not daring to show it at all, and knelt down again.
“What exactly is it our toy wants tonight, hmm?”
“Whatever you like, ma'am...” She slapped him with the crop again, harder this time.
“No. I've told you I don't accept that answer, now come up with a better one.” He hung his head.
“I want to wear your collar and be forced to pleasure you, Mistress, to make you come. Please.”
“You may not get all of that tonight,” she said, already knowing what she planned to withhold, “but at least you're learning what to ask for and how to ask for it.” She set her drink down and opened a drawer in the front of the table near her chair. From it she took and handed him a thick collar, with one-inch chromed o-rings hanging from the front and back and an open padlock at the back beneath the ring. He ran his fingers over the dark purple leather, his eyes glazing slightly. “Do you like it, pet?”
“Good.” She took it from his hands. “Turn around.” He turned on his knees and she leaned down, reaching over his head, and pulled the collar around his neck, locking it in the back. “Now it's time for a bit of fun with my... slut,” she whispered, knowing how the word affected him.
She stood and planted one foot on his spine, pushing him down until his face was on the floor, and then walked on to the safe, bending down to reach into it for a small cloth drawstring bag. She turned and opened the bag, upending it on the bed and sorting through the contents. Whips, crops, a tawse, a small cat-of-nine-tails, a wide, beaded leather belt. She hummed quietly to herself for a moment before speaking.
“I noticed something the other day, pet. Some of the videos I've taken were out of order. Do you know why that is?” He gulped again.
“Nnnoo, Mistress. I have no idea.”
She smiled coldly.
“You're lying, which is very, very naughty. But you might have gotten away with it if not for one thing.”
“Oh.. what was that, Mistress?” He was caught anyway. May as well try to learn a lesson for next time.
“You left one in the DVD player, you stupid little boy.” She straightened up, the bright red PVC corset creaking. It was stretched tight across her chest, exposing just the right amount of cleavage: Enough to stimulate and no more. “What were you doing with those?”
“Just watching them, ma'am. They make me feel good.”
“'Good?' Do you mean they make you horny?”
“Yes, my Mistress.”
“And what else?”
“Sexy, Mistress. Hot.”
“Little slut.” He trembled. “Well, go on.”
“Ma'am?” She sighed, exasperated.
“Does my little toy touch himself when he watches old sessions?”
“Sometimes, Ma'am.” He all but sobbed into the carpet.
“Filthy fucking slut. Sit up.” She drew a large hunting knife from the chest as he did and stepped towards him, slinging the sheath across the room. He shrank away. She growled and grabbed his hair, pulling him up straight and deftly cutting his shirt off, then waved the knife in his face. “If I want to cut you, I will, and there's not... a... THING... you can do about it. Understand?” She tugged hard on his hair for emphasis. He nodded as best he could, whimpering quietly.
She flipped the knife toward a wooden nightstand. It landed point down and stuck, handle up and quivering.
He quivered as well.
She shoved him back down, turned back to the bed, and slowly ran her fingertips over their collected, shared instruments of torture. As much as she loved the feel of the crop on her own skin, he hardly reacted to it. It wouldn't do for this at all.
“What do we use for punishing a slut?,” she asked, almost to herself, but making sure he could hear. Then she smiled and snapped her fingers. “That's right! You don't whip a slut.” She grinned evilly down at him. “You spank them!” He groaned quietly and she knew she had chosen well.
She stepped to a closet and opened the door, removing a long, thick wooden paddle from a hook on the wall. She then walked back over to him and, after taking a sip from her drink, she slipped the the toe of one shoe under his throat, lifting him upright.
“Stand up and take off your pants.”
He stood and unbuttoned his jeans, allowing them to drop to the floor and stepping out of them. His boxers were stretched over a large erection that she knew, for him, was actually just the beginning. She curled her lip, playfully tapping at the tip of his cock with the paddle.
“Filthy. I've barely touched you yet.”
“I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just... you're so beautiful.”
“Beautiful? I suppose it isn't your fault you can't control yourself, but you really should try harder.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He help his hands over his junk, blushing slightly.
“Get your hands away from there!” she snapped. He flinched and jerked his hands up to his chest.
“I'm sorry, Mistress. I just wanted to hide my... my..”
“Look at me, slut,” she interrupted, grabbing his chin and dragging his eyes up to meet hers. “You always want to hide your erection. Stop it, it's fucking useless. I can tell a slut when I see one.”
She turned away and picked up her drink setting down the paddle, and putting her back to him as she slid her skirt off one-handed, exposing a bright red g-string. She heard him moan behind her and smiled as she finished her drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor spreading through her. “You like it?” He nodded dumbly, then remembered her back was turned.
“Yes, Mistress. Very much.”
“Good.” She slapped the paddle into her hand as she turned and smiled widely. “Now, bend over the bed.” He stepped back.
“Please, Mistress...” She tilted her head to the side, her smile fading.
“What is it, pet?”
“I'm sorry, Mistress... please don't spank your slut...”
She glared and reached out, grabbing him again by the hair. She turned him around and jerked his head down to the bed, and then pinned him down to deliver a harsh swat to his ass. He gasped loudly and she spanked him again.
“Count, bitch,” she growled, and swatted him again.
“ONE, mistress!,” he yelped, twitching and jerking, trying to pull away. She hit him again, harder.
She hit him harder, smiling cruelly, twisting her fingers tighter in his hair.
“THREE, Mistress! Please, it HURTS!” She laughed.
“That's the point, isn't it, slut?” He squirmed harder, breathing heavily. His boxers had started to slide down and he scrambled frantically to pull them back up as she took another swing, this one hitting lower, more on this thighs.
“FOUR! Please!” She licked her lips and pulled back as far as she could, delivering a smack that rattled the bed.
“FIVE!” He was almost crying from the pain now. She dropped the paddle into the chair, twisting her fingers still tighter and turning his head to look at her. With her other hand she reached down and gently rubbed his burning backside, warmed enough to feel even through the silk boxers.
“So did you learn your lesson? No more watching the videos without permission. Any of them, I don't care who's in charge for that particular session. Is that clear?” He nodded slightly, panting. “Good. Now stand up.”
He stood, his boxers sliding down in back. He tried to pull them up but was hindered by the cuffs. She watched him for a moment and then rolled her eyes.
“Take them down, you stupid bitch.” He froze.
“But... then I'd be wearing nothing but the collar, Mistress.”
“Perhaps that's my intent, slut.”
He groaned as he pushed down his boxers and kicked them to the side. She looked down at his rapidly growing cock, and smiled as he followed her gaze and blushed, his face as red as his ass.
“Is my pet getting horny?” He blushed deeper, if that was even possible.
She pushed the paddle to the floor and sat in the chair, sipping the melted ice from her glass.
“Get yourself off for me. Slowly. You should enjoy touching yourself, like a good slut.”
He reached down, stroking his balls (which she insisted he keep shaven) with one hand, rubbing his palm lightly over the head of his cock.
“Good slut,” she crooned softly, smiling, sucking harder on a piece of ice. “Go on.”
He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it slowly up and down the length, his breath stuttering as his cock began to ooze precum. She smiled, licking her lips again, as he whimpered a bit, his back arching.
“Are you going to come for Mistress, little toy?”
“Where do you want your filthy slut to come, Mistress?,” he gasped. She reached out and grabbed his balls, a bit roughly, and pulled her to him, pushing his stroking hand away and replacing it with her own. She ran her fingernails over his balls, jerking him fast and hard.
“Come for your Mistress, you pathetic, filthy slut.”
He sucked a breath in through his teeth and his eyes rolled back into his head as he came. She moved her hand just in time to catch his come in her hand. He exhaled, a shuttering sigh, and sagged.
“Good boy. Did you enjoy that?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress... you're so wonderful, so good to me.”
“Oh, I know. But look at the mess you made in my hand.” He nodded and closed his eyes.
“I'm sorry, ma'am..,”he whispered.
“Kneel down, slut.” He knelt and she gently began to pet his head with her clean hand, holding the other in front of his face. “Clean it up.”
He opened his mouth and she shoved her fingers in. He closed his lips around them, sucking and licking at them happily.
“Make sure you get it all,” she said, pulling her fingers free and presenting her cum-soaked palm. He licked it gently clean as she continued petting him, then wiped her hand dry on his face. “Good boy.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You're welcome, slut.”
He smiled happily as she pushed his head to her thigh, stroking his hair. Then suddenly he frowned.
“But... you didn't get to come, ma'am...”
She smiled indulgently.
“Then I would say you owe me for next time.”