A Tale of Two Paramours Ch. 09

Jessi’s announcement that she wanted to be my slave for New Year’s Day, and perhaps for more of the new year as well, was followed by an awkward silence that, I admit, was mostly my own doing. Three different perspectives on the issue collided in my head as we sat in the chair in my living room, the twenty-year-old blonde – still in her cat costume – perched on my lap and staring at me.

The first perspective, which I identified with my conscience, warned against pursuing this new line of play. This, I rationally understood, would be the objectively wisest course given what I knew about Jessi and her difficulties regarding reconciling her feelings with her sexual urges. The second perspective was more willing to give this new game a try, but it included some concern that it was quite a leap to go from light spanking, mildly rough sex, and suggestive commands to being the master of a love slave. The third perspective I considered was that if we were to do this, I really needed to take control and push the envelope a bit. To my surprise, with minimal inner dialogue I quickly resolved to go with this third perspective and to push things. One reason for this was that while sex with Jessi was always incredible, I was beginning to understand it was also predictable.

As I looked back over my encounters with my younger lover, I could not deny that, except for our second encounter, which was very different from the others in many ways, we more or less did the same thing each time, just with different window dressing. Even the pussy cat thing had just been a new, and admittedly very exciting, framework for the same basic things we had done before – Jessi showing off/revealing herself either naked or provocatively clothed; fellatio to my climax; and then sex on the floor with me taking the young blonde woman from behind. Sure we had mixed that pattern up a little bit from one time to the next, but the basic pattern itself held. Further, even though what followed the initial activities had been more variable, there were a couple of recurring patterns involved there as well: the first was sex in bed, either face to face or Jessi on top; the second involved me picking her up and tossing her on a bed so I could perform cunnilingus on her, which was something that we had done three times in just a handful of encounters. If we were going to go down a new path, I wanted it to actually be new.

“Mark, what are you…?” Jessi started to ask after I had been silent for some time.

I cut off her question by grabbing a fistful of her blonde hair and aggressively kissing her. The young woman sitting on my lap moaned and wiggled as I held the kiss. When I was done, I used her hair to pull her face away from mine as I stared into her lust filled eyes. Jessi, her lips trembling, seemed to be on the verge of speaking, but no words came forth.

Finally, she dropped her eyes and in a quiet voice asked, “Should I go change?”

“No,” I replied, putting an edge to my voice. “We are not doing this the same way. There will be no modeling of your collar and cuffs like it is a slutty fashion show.”

Jessi glanced up quickly, bit her lower lip, and then looked down again. She did not speak.

“Get up and stand in front of me!” I commanded.

The young woman hesitated for a half a second, and then she jumped up and stood facing me.

“Before we start this, are you sure about doing it?” I asked her.

“Yes, Mark,” she breathed.

I stood up, grabbed her hair, pulled it back so she was forced to look up at me, and told her, “If I ask you a question, you reply ‘Yes, Master’ or ‘No, Master’ unless I have commanded you to do otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Jessi whispered, her whole body now trembling.

“Much better,” I responded. “You are not going to forget that, are you?”

“No, Master!” she answered.

“Now, go and get the collars you brought,” I instructed. “I will decide which one you will wear.”

Jessi stood there a heartbeat before running to my bedroom. While she was gone, I went to my home office and retrieved the whip and the cuff sets she had given me for Christmas. When I returned with them in hand, Jessi was standing before the chair in which I had been sitting, a collar in each hand.

Walking up behind her, I said, “Turn to face me,” and the slender blonde instantly complied.

“Show me the collars,” I commanded, and she held them both up.

The collar in her left hand was the thin, black leather collar with the word ‘SLUT’ spelled out on it with metal studs. The collar in her right hand was also black leather, but it was very different from the first one. The collar she had worn before was more like a choker, the band maybe an inch think. The new collar was much more substantial – the band of it looked to be two or two and half inches thick, and instead of a word spelled out in metal studs, it was adorned with three heavy looking rings, one in the front and the other two on either side. And whereas the thinner collar had a small, delicate buckle, the heavier collar fastened with a metal buckle that would have looked at home on a large belt. Finally, the larger collar was even further set apart from the smaller one by a black leather leash clipped to the front ring.

“Put the ‘SLUT’ collar on the chair,” I ordered, and the blonde immediately did so.

“Good girl,” I praised her. “Now give me the other one.”

She gave me the heavier collar, which I then placed on my coffee table, along with both pairs of cuffs.

“Strip!” I ordered, now that her hands were free.

Jessi did not hesitate at all. She did have some problems undoing the corset of the cat costume, likely due to the fact her hands were shaking as she tried to reach behind her to unhook it. As I watched her struggle, my first impulse was to help, but I realized that was not what I should do given our roles.

Instead, I barked, “Get it off now! If you do not, I will use this whip on you!”

The young woman looked at the whip in my hand, then frantically pulled the corset apart and tossed it aside. Next, she unhooked the belt that held up her skirt and tail and let the whole assembly fall to the floor. Now dressed only in her fishnet stockings and her 5” high heels, Jessi stepped away from her skirt and stood in front of me with her arms to her sides.

“All of it, slut,” I growled.

“Y… y… yes, Master,” she stuttered, before kicking off her shoes and peeling off the stocking from each of her legs.

I walked around her as she stood there in my living room, completely naked. I commanded her to raise up on her toes and put her arms up over her head, as if she were about to dive into a pool. The blonde complied without hesitation, and I marveled at the way her legs and buttocks grew taught as she stood on her tip-toes, and how her perfectly her breasts were raised and displayed when she put her arms up.

“You are a very beautiful slave,” I told her, and I saw her cheeks redden.

“You will need a name,” I continued. “It should be something that represents who you are, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied, although I saw some concern cloud her eyes.

“I think we will call you ‘slut’,” I announced, and even as I said it, doubt began to nag at me. However, as I usually did where Jessi was concerned, I tried to push any concerns I might have deep down in my mind, where they could not interfere with what I wanted to do.

Jessi stared at me but did not speak. I returned her gaze, and after several seconds, she dropped her eyes.

“What is your name, slave?” I demanded.

“Slut,” she whispered, and then hastily added, “Master.”

“What is it?” I asked again.

“Slut, Master,” she replied, louder this time.

“Very good, slut,” I praised her. “Now, on your knees!”

The blonde dropped to her knees, briefly looking up at me before she put her head down and stared at the floor. The concern I had tried to bury spread even wider through my mind as I stared at Jessi kneeling there before me, naked and renamed ‘slut’ at my command. I fought the urge to raise her to her feet and promise never use that word for her again. But I knew that she wanted this, and I knew that to do it for her, I had to step it up and play my part.

I dropped the whip on the table and picked up the heavier collar. Unhooking the leash and leaving it on the table, I moved around behind the naked woman. I then commanded her to move her hair to the side, and when she complied, I put the collar around her neck and buckled it tightly in the back (I did make sure it was not too tight by slipping a finger between the collar and her neck).

“Put your head up,” I told her as I walked back around so that I was standing in front of her again. Jessi did as she was told, and I was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of the slender, almost delicate blonde kneeling naked, a heavy back collar around her neck. My penis, which had been partially aroused since we had begun this little game, hardened completely, and I pondered abandoning the game so I could take her right there. I also noticed that my increased arousal did not go unnoticed by the woman at my feet – she stared at my erection, her lips parted and her breathing heavy.

But instead of ravaging my new slave, I picked up the leash and reattached it to her collar. After grabbing the smaller pair of cuffs, I turned and walked toward my bedroom, tugging on the leash when it grew taught. My blonde slave girl dropped to all fours after the first tug, and crawled behind me after feeling a second. As much as I wanted to, I did not look back as I led her through the hall and into my room.

Once we were in my room, I disconnected the leash and had my slave kneel up. I ordered her to hold out her wrists, and when she did so, I attached a leather cuff to each. I then hooked each cuff to the corresponding side ring on her collar, rendering her completely unable to use her arms.

Moving closer to her, I grabbed her hair tight and positioned my erection in front of her face but a few inches beyond the reach of her lips. The blonde tried to lean forward, mouth open and tongue out, to get at my penis, but my grip on her hair prevented her from reaching her goal. Whimpering, the collared woman looked up at me, her eyes pleading.

“Close your mouth,” I commanded.

Jessi immediately clamped her mouth shut. I pulled her head forward and rubbed my erect penis all over her face, including across her pouty lips. I could tell the young woman wanted to open her mouth and wrap her lips around me, but she did as she was told.

“Is your pussy wet, slut?” I asked her.

“Yes, Master,” she moaned.

“Do you want your master to fuck it?” I continued.

“Yes, Master,” she panted. “Please, Master.”

Without another word, I turned and walked from the room, leaving Jessi kneeling on the floor, moaning. I wanted to leave her there alone, making her anticipate what was to come, but that was only part of my reason for leaving the bedroom. I had never used a whip on anyone before, and I wanted to experiment with how much force to use. I just did not want to do so in front of the young woman who was, at least for a little while, my slave.

Once I was back in the living room, I picked up the jeans I had been wearing when Jessi came over and pulled them on. I then picked up the whip. Holding out my left arm, I struck it with the whip with what I thought would be a fair amount of strength. I was surprised at how light it felt, however. After a few more tries, including one attempt that was definitely too hard, I thought I knew the right amount of force to use to deliver a lashing that would sting but would not hurt the young woman.

When I walked back into my bedroom, Jessi was exactly where I had left her. As I approached her, I saw her eyes linger on the whip, but there did not seem to be a look of fear in those blue eyes– it seemed more like one of longing. I felt the rate of my pulse and my respiration increase, and then I was again standing in front of my kneeling slave.

On a whim, I held out the whip and told the blonde to kiss it. Never taking her burning eyes off of mine, she kissed and licked the whip. My erection, which had subsided somewhat while I was out of the room, returned full force, making a noticeable bulge in my jeans.

Stepping to her side, I put my hand on Jessi’s bare back and pushed her forward until her torso was resting on the floor, her head turned to the side. She started to raise up here rear, as if getting in position for me to enter her pussy from behind, but I pushed her hips back down. I then ran my fingertips up and down her bare, flawless back, and as I did so, I felt the young blonde shiver under my touch.

“I am going to give you five lashes, slut,” I informed the woman on the floor. “This way, you will know what will happen if you disobey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied.

“Count the lashes, slave,” I commanded as I landed the first strike on the skin of her smooth, white back.

“One,” Jessi grunted after her body jerked from the blow. I almost stopped right then, after that single stroke of the whip, but I pushed on. However, I did decide that I wanted it over with as soon as possible.

To expedite the process, I delivered the next three lashes with force equivalent to the first but in rapid succession. My blonde slave jerked and cried out the number with each of the lashes, but they did not seem to be really hurting her. However, as I pulled my arm back, ready to deliver the last of the five, I noticed that the young woman was trembling and moaning. I also saw that the pale, soft flesh of her back was streaked with reddening marks where the blades of the whip had hit her fair skin. I paused, unable to follow through with that last stroke of the whip, as my mind raced.

Part of me wanted to make this last one harder than the rest, to really let her feel it so that the “message” was delivered and I would never have to do it again. Another part of me wanted to give her something light, a reward for taking the first four lashes so well. A third part wanted to end this whole game altogether and not hit her again. However, as I did when I had decided to pursue this game with the young woman in the first place, I pushed away my doubts and resolved to really put my best into my role. It was what I believed that Jessi wanted, after all. So, I put more power into the last stroke, but I did not realize until it hit her that I had underestimated the amount of force.

The blades of the whip landed on her already red back with a loud crack. Her creamy, delicate body jumped violently and she shrieked. I immediately dropped the whip and knelt down beside her as she began to sob.

“God, I’m sorry,” I told her. “Jessi, honey, are you okay?”

“F… f… f… five,” the young blonde managed to stammer through her sobs.

“Shit, don’t worry about that,” I said as I unhooked her wrists from the rings on the collar.

Jessi let her arms flop down in front of her, but otherwise she did not move, save for her body shaking every few seconds. She did not say anything else either, but I could tell her sobbing was lessening. I could not believe I had done this to her. I was sure at that point that we were done for the night. Brushing the blonde’s soft hair aside, I pulled off the collar and tossed it aside.

“Why… why did you do that?” she asked weakly after I had removed the collar.

“I hurt you,” I pointed out.

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I know… I know what to expect… if I… if I am… bad.”

“No, Jessi,” I explained. “We are not doing this anymore.”

“But was so… so fucking hot,” she panted. “I am… I am… dripping. Check… check my… my pussy.”

Instead of doing as she asked, I stood, moved in front of her, bent over to take her hands, and drew her up so she was kneeling straight. I tried to pull her up to a standing position, but the young woman resisted, and I did not want to pull her arms out of socket in addition to hurting her with the whip.

When I was able to get a good look at Jessi’s face, I was even more convinced I had done the right thing in stopping our game. Streaks of mascara were drying on her face, evidence of her tears.

“I am not going to check your pussy,” I informed her bluntly. “We do not need to do this.”

The kneeling blonde stared up at me, and in those vivid blue eyes I saw disappointment, but maybe a hint of something else as well – relief.

“Master, you slave – your slut – needs…” she started, but I put a finger to her lips to silence her.

“I know you wanted this, Jessi,” I said, “but I just do not think this is right for us – not like this. If we do this, I think I might need to build up to it, maybe play around a bit first, rather than immediately jump in to a master/slave game.”

“It’s no game,” she countered, “It is something I have dreamed of, something I have wanted to experience.”

“I think it would only ever be a game to me,” I admitted. “I could not – I will not – treat you this way in day-to-day reality.”

“I‘m not asking for all the time, Mark,” she clarified. “I just want it to be real when we do it.”

“Real?” I asked.

The young woman closed her eyes, and then stood up. Moving right in front of me, she took my hands and looked deep into my eyes.

“It solves our problem,” she told me. “When we want to be loving, we can be just that, and I think I can be okay with it, if I know there are other times when I will have no choice.”

“No choice?”

“Because I’d be your slave. What you feel for me, or don’t feel for me, wouldn’t matter,” she explained. “I’d have no choice, which means nothing to worry about. We could be as dirty and rough as you wanted, and I wouldn’t worry about how you feel about me because I’d have no choice but to do want you wanted.”

“Jessi, I am not sure that would really help,” I contended, my mind uneasy at her tortured logic.

“It would, Mark,” she argued back. “It would. I’d be okay with you loving me, and me loving you, because I’d be your slut and be used like one if that is what you wanted as my master. There is no pressure that way.”

As she further explained her plan to me, I heard desperation creep into Jessi’s voice, and I noticed her rate of respiration increase. Afraid she was in the beginning stages of a panic attack, I decided to take action.

I grabbed Jessi’s slim waist, drew her naked body against my half-clothed one, and kissed her. At first the blonde did not respond, but then she put her arms around my neck and kissed me back. After the kiss, we stared into each other’s eyes, and I smiled. A few seconds later, Jessi shook her head minutely and returned the smile.

“This scares me more than a whipping,” she whispered.

“What does,” I asked, moving my face closer to hers so that our lips were no more than an inch or so apart.

“That I feel this much for you,” she admitted, and then we were kissing again.

I slid my hands down to grasp her firm, shapely rear-end. After giving both cheeks a squeeze, I pulled my right hand back and gave the blonde’s bottom a firm smack. Jessi jumped in my arms and broke our kiss. She stared up at me, confusion in her eyes.

“I don’t mind being a little rough, or giving you some playful swats,” I confessed with a wink, “but trying to just jump into being more – that was too much. As I said, let’s build up to it and see how it goes.”

“Okay,” she conceded. “But you have to accept that sometimes what I feel may get to be too much for me. This is all easier if I just give myself to you and you treat me how you want.”

“I am treating you how I want,” I proclaimed, still holding her tight against me. “I want to treat you like my lover.”

“Can your lover sometimes be a slut?” she asked, uncertainty radiating from her.

“I very much like it when she is,” I said. “And I also like it when we make love. The two things are not mutually exclusive.”