tagBDSMKim Pt. 05

Kim Pt. 05

byIndustrial_Bondage©

Part 5: Servitude


The story that follows is based on actual events and has been recounted –in so much as possible- as it happened, or at least as I remember it years later. As usual, the names have been changed to protect the privacy of those who I have cared about.

My thanks to JtoHisPB and Epicuria for their services as Beta Readers.




*

It was two days before Christmas and I was puttering about my apartment; an awkward third floor walk-up that had started life as the attic of an old Victorian facing the park at the heart of the little town where I lived. The main room was lit only by the lights of the Christmas tree, and soft jazz played low, seemingly in the distance.

I was busily checking everything to make sure it was ready for Kim's arrival. In the months that we'd been seeing each other, this was the first time that she was coming to my place. Her boys would be spending the holiday with their dad and she would be coming straight from the airport where she was packing them off. That wasn't a part of her life in which I was entitled a role.

Classes were out for the quarter and both she and I had some time off coming to us from our respective employers. She and I would be playing house for the next eight days.

The knock on the door was a good ten minutes late. I suppressed my happiness to see her and screwed on my best stern visage. She was late; there would be consequences.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly as I opened the door and let her in.

I took her by the arm and stopped her just inside, closing the door as I did.

"What?" she asked nervously. Her pouty lips were drawn tight with apprehension.

"You're late," I locked the door and moved past her, standing near the large oak dining table that took up one end of the main room. I turned to face her, tucking my hands in the pockets of my chinos.

"I know, I'm sorry," her voice was pleading and low. She was clutching her overcoat to her. She had no overnight bag, she wouldn't need one.

I pushed the smile down, failed to keep control of a wicked grin, "Take your coat off."

She licked her lips nervously and her eyes fell to the floor.

"Remove your coat and hang it up," I repeated, gesturing quickly toward the Chesterfield standing against the wall behind her.

Slowly, she opened her coat, revealing that she was dressed for the office. She stole a quick look at me and then cast her gaze to the floor again. I bit the inside of my mouth to avoid smiling.

"How were you told to arrive at my door?" I poured as much ire and disappointment as I could into the words.

"Clothed only in my coat, stockings and heels," she answered.

"And yet, you come to me clothed like some house frau!"

"I'm sorry!" Her eyes begged. "My mother kept talking; I couldn't get out of the office on time. I didn't want to be late."

"Yet," I moved to stand behind her and helped her out of her coat. "You were late," I hung it neatly on one of the Chesterfield's seven hooks.

"You're right, master," she answered. We'd moved to the more ritualistic title after I'd had time to talk with her at length about what most appealed to her.

"You had a choice to make." I moved to stand in front of her, "Disappoint me or disappoint someone else. You chose to disappoint me." Even in the two inch heels she was still much shorter than I was; her petite frame flared in all the right places so invitingly.

"I'm sorry, master."

"You will be," I seized her by the collar of her blouse and ripped the white linen open. Buttons skittered across the floor, the sound of their tiny clattering flight blending with the sharp sound of tearing fabric.

She gasped but didn't move.

I took a heavy bladed knife from my pocket and unfolded the razor-edged blade. Her eyes followed the tip as I placed it between her breasts and slipped it beneath the fabric of her bra. Turning it slightly and pulling away from her I sliced through her bra; her large breasts with their proud, heavy areolae cascaded free of their former prison. Her breath hung in her throat. I carefully laid the tattered remains of her bra to each side with the tip of the blade.

Kneeling slightly, I carefully pressed the cutting edge of the blade into the fabric at the hem of her skirt. It passed through easily. I took the sides of the cut into my hands and ripped her skirt open from hem to waistline. A quick flick of the wrist and the blade passed through the buttons securing the waist and her skirt fluttered to pool around her ankles.

Her gaze never left the floor as I moved behind her, grabbing the tattered shirt and stripping it from her along with the remnants of her bra. I saw her head turn ever so slightly, her eyes seeking me out as I moved to stand close to her, the knife still in hand, the tip passing up and under the side of her panties.

"Let's see what else you might have neglected to do properly," I whispered into her. The blade cut through the material at her hip.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pressing my fingers beneath the loose band of her panties, already broken. My fingertips found the smooth, hairless flesh of her freshly shorn mound. That she stay clean shaven was a rule I'd set early on. I rewarded her compliance by dragging a fingertip over her clit and then pressing two fingers into her cunt. She was hot to the touch and wet so as to shed a heady scent of need.

"You did at least one thing right," I said as I bunched the material at the front of her panties into my fist so that it could be easily cut. When her panties had been cut loose I pulled them away from her and added them to the pile at her feet.

Her collar was hanging innocently from one of the Chesterfield's hooks. I folded the knife and pocketed it then took the collar from the hook and moved to stand close behind her. "Lift your hair."

She gathered her hair atop her head holding it in place with one hand. I slipped the collar about her slender throat and buckled it in place. I took the tiny lock from my pocket and fastened the collar to her. She shuddered as the hasp latched.

I stepped back in front of her, a pace away. Her gaze never lifted from the floor. "When you enter my house you strip; you are never to be dressed unless I expressly grant you permission."

"Yes, master."

"You will remove your clothes as soon as you enter my home, fold them neatly and place them on the bench," I indicated the Chesterfield's low bench.

"Yes, master."

"You were given a simple task, arrive dressed to please me. You failed. What do you have to say for yourself?" I asked. Her need screamed through my senses.

"This girl is sorry she failed you." she fell deeper into the rhythms of her arousal, "She is truly sorry to have failed her master, but she knows she must be punished."

"I agree."

She raised her eyes briefly in a stolen glance but said nothing.

I turned and walked to the dining room table, where I pulled a straight backed chair clear of the table, turning it to face into the center of the room. I sat down and beckoned for her wordlessly. She crossed the room, naked except for her stockings and heels. Her strides slow and deliberate, eager yet reluctant.

"Bend over my knee, hands behind your head," I instructed her.

She lowered herself over my knees, shifting herself to gain her balance. Her sex was red hot and I made as if to adjust her on my lap, pretending to help her find her balance while in fact centering her mound, and by extension her clit, against my knee. I bounced my leg lightly as she placed her hands behind her head at the nape of her neck.

"You're failure will cost you five swats," I explained, my hand resting on the exposed left cheek of her heart shaped ass. "You will need to count each blow, so that we know how many have been administered."

"Yes, master."

"Very well," I raised my hand and brought it down forcefully against her right ass cheek. The collision cracked loudly and she jumped against me; her clit ground against my knee.

"One, master." She spoke in a throaty tone.

I let my hand linger on her ass, allowing the tip of my thumb to explore the crack of her ass. I pressed it against her sex; the lips parted easily and I pressed my thumb into her warmth. She purred.

I snatched my hand from her sex and brought it down violently at the crack of her ass. She screeched, her back arched and her breasts swung freely beneath her. I took one in hand and kneaded the flesh, squeezing the nipple in the web of my hand, between my thumb and forefinger.

"Two, master," she finally managed. She was rocking her clit against my knee now.

I stroked her sex lightly with my fingertips before I pressed two into her. She groaned deeply. I began to fuck her slowly with my fingers. My other hand still held her breast, tugging at the rock hard nipple. When her motion against my knee became more frantic I smacked her ass again, this time the left cheek. She didn't scream but rather purred loudly. I added a third finger to the warmth of her sex. She didn't say a word.

I smacked her ass again, right at the crack, above and on her pussy. She pushed herself against my hand. I pressed three fingers into her sex and watched her reddened ass twitch before my eyes. Her arms were becoming heavy as she let her attention fall to the pressure against her clit and the fingers probing her cunt.

"How many was that," I asked, pressing my thumb into her ass.

She struggled to find her voice. "This girl... This girl doesn't remember. Four... This girl thinks it was four, master. Maybe three... Master."

"It was your job to count," I said disapprovingly.

"This girl knows, master." She ground her clit against my knee and pressed herself back against my probing digits.

"If you can't remember, we'll need to start again." I said in a level, tormenting tone.

"This girl is sorry, master."

Her ass was covered in a lace of handprints; welts to mark the four blows that I had landed against her.

I took a heavy plastic hair brush from the dining table. The head was wide and flat and I knew it would make a most pleasing sound against her flesh. I snapped my wrist, slapping the brush against the right cheek of her ass. She jerked on my lap, the harsh sound and sharp pain a distinct contrast to the previous blows.

"One, master!" she shrieked. I heard the tears clearly.

I snapped the brush against the left cheek in quick succession.

"Two, master!" she grit her teeth and ground her clit against my knee.

I turned the brush over and dragged the stiff bristles in a harsh arc along the swell of her ass. She squirmed. I spun the brush deftly in my hand and slapped it loudly against her ass. I could see the flow of her need spreading down her inner thighs.

"Three, mast-," the words were cut short in her mouth as I rained the next blow down on her.

"Four, master." She was working herself against me desperately now.

Her ass was red and hot to the touch as the final blow cracked against the smooth globe of her ass.

"Five, master."

"On your knees," I said briskly.

She twisted from my lap and onto her knees. Her body was wedged between my thighs. She leaned in close, her face against my thigh, her breath hot through the fabric of my chinos, her hands clutching at my knees.

"Will you remember to be on time from now on?" I asked, my hand resting lightly in her mouse-brown hair.

"This girl will remember, master. She is sorry that she failed you, master." She breathed heavily against my groin.

"I believe that you are sincere," I ran my fingers through her hair. "But, you will need to show me the true depth of your repentance." I stood slowly.

She rocked back on her heels, her knees wide.

"There is a bottle of scotch on the counter; there are glasses in the cabinet. Make me a drink; three fingers of scotch in a tumbler, two ice cubes." I stepped past her and moved to the sofa.

I watched her as she clambered to her feet and hurried into the small kitchen. She worked with purpose, finding the glass, the ice cubes, carefully pouring the scotch. When the bottle was closed she moved with elegant strides back to my side.

"Master," she raised the glass before me, held in two hands.

"Thank you." I took the drink, studied its appearance then sipped it lightly. She dropped lightly to her knees before me.

"Well done," I commented on the drink before sitting it on the end table. "Undo my pants and free my cock."

Her hands slowly worked the buckle of my belt, then the button and zipper. Her fingers hooked in the waistband she pulled my pants down over my hips. I wasn't wearing briefs which allowed my cock to swing free; the head slapped her in the chin smearing her lower lip with pre-cum.

I sat on the sofa, taking the drink in hand again, slipping onto the edge of the seat. "Show me how sorry you are."

"Yes, master," she leaned in close to me, her hands on my knees again.

She brushed her cheek against my shaft, her hair drifting like silk across the head as she nuzzled it passionately. With a slow deliberate motion she stroked my cock with the baby soft flesh of her cheek, lowering her head to caress my sack with her nose.

I sipped the scotch and settled back to watch her suck my cock.

She pressed her lips to the root of my cock, kissing it lightly with her heavy, red lips. Her tongue was hot as she pressed its width against my sack and licked slowly from the bass of my balls to the tip of my cock. When her face was poised over my shaft she pursed her lips and pressed down, taking my rod into the furnace-like heat of her mouth; her lips gripped me like a vise. She took my length into her mouth, held me for a moment then pulled back. My cock popped free of her lips loudly.

"Master's cock is so beautiful. This girl is lucky to suck such a cock." Her gaze found mine as she again caressed my cock with her face. The soft lashes of her eye grazed the helmet as she did.

She puckered her lips, her gaze never releasing mine, and blew lightly across the head of my cock. The cool blast made my nuts tingle and my shaft twitched in a desperate, needy dance. I placed the scotch back on the end table and lightly brushed my fingers against her temple.

"Your cock makes this girl so hot, may she play with her pussy, master?"She never took her eyes off my cock as she asked. Her lips brushing the sensitive head as she spoke.

"You may."

She lowered her hand between her legs; the groan as she leaned in again told me that she'd found the tender part of her sex. Close in, she dragged the flat of her tongue around my cock head like an ice cream cone. She moaned softly, never letting up, moving her tongue in small, darting motions as if to sweep dribbles of melting ice cream from my shaft.

"Will master feed this girl?" She lapped at the soft underside of my cock. "This girl loves the taste of master's cum."

She pressed her lips against the head of my cock again and sucked me into her mouth. Twisting her head slightly she pressed the head of my cock against the inside of her mouth; the inside of her cheek was alien against my cock head. I watched as my cock pressed a bulge in her mouth, as if she were straining to fit me past her lips.

When she turned her head again, slipping my cock head into the back of her throat, she moaned softly. The sensation shot through my balls like electricity. She held me there and hummed low in the back of her throat. The vibrations echoed along my length and tickled my ass. The tune was lost on me, but the sensation was intense. Her eyes sought mine out again as she held me in her throat, still humming. There was a need in them, and animal hunger that made my cock twitch in her mouth.

"This girl needs your cum, master," her voice was hoarse and throaty as she slipped free of my cock for a moment then plunged back down on it.

I could feel the movement of her body as she fingered her clit. She was humming again, stroking my cock with the muscles at the back of her throat. She bobbed her head ever so slightly; moaning in need. That little moment of friction was all I needed. My nuts pulled tight and my cock twitched erratically. I seized her head in my hands and pressed my groin against her face as I flooded her throat with cum.

She pulled back, leaving just the tip of my cock in her mouth. Her cheeks swelled as she caught my load. Moving her mouth against the head of my cock she let a small amount of cum leak from her lips. It ran down her chin and along my shaft as I finished. When I'd finished she pulled back, tipping her head back and swallowing noisily. I was mesmerized by the movement of her throat as she swallowed. When she'd drunk down my load she leaned in again and lapped at my cum-slick cock; catching the white cream as it dribbled down toward my balls.

"Good girl," I praised her once my mind had cleared.

"Thank you, master."

"Clean yourself and then prepare dinner. You'll find what you need in the kitchen. Make whatever you like with what you find."

"Yes, my master." She smiled, pleased with herself, as she rose.

I watched her as she vanished into the bathroom. It was going to be an interesting week.

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