Ch 2: The Ground Beneath Her Knees

His hand in her hair lifted her head up and onto his cock, and she served him as she always did before bed. He did not come, but instead brought her up onto the bed, still on all fours, and entered her from behind. He fucked her slowly, going more deeply into her in this position, and then she felt him lean into her. "Down," he said. She obeyed, dropping flat on the bed as he pushed her down, pushing into her cunt made even tighter, her legs closed around him, his balls slapping her thighs as he came. Again she licked him clean, and he spooned her from behind.

She lay there, feeling him leak out of her, but he was already asleep so she did not move or ask for permission to use her fingers and lick him up. She just lay still, in his arms, feeling sticky and used, and fell asleep.

5

Sometimes she could not stop coming for him. And sometimes he stopped her from coming at all. The next weekend, she lay on her back, her legs spread wide and lifted, her hands shackled above her head, crying with need.

"Please, Master, it's been so long," she gasped, as her owner pushed a slender dildo in and out of her ass, turning it, while his fingers teased her pussy lips, just barely touching them.

"Whose is this?" he asked, touching a finger tip to her clit, lifting it away as her hips bucked. Continuing to raise herself off the bed, trying to reach his finger, she moaned.

"It's yours, Master, my clit is yours. Please please, it's been so long."

"It's not even a full day," he said. "But you're such a slut you must touch yourself a lot."

"Yes, Master," she said, continuing because she know how he wanted questions like that answered. "I am such a slut that I touch myself a lot."

--

They had talked on the phone the previous evening, and he had told her what a slut she was, and what he would do to her, in detail, getting her more and more excited. She'd asked for permission to touch herself, which he granted, but as he heard her start to breathe harder he told her to stop.

"Yes, Master," she said, moaning.

"Where are your hands?" he asked.

"Just stroking my pussy lips," she said. "I'm not masturbating, sir."

"Stop," he said, sharply. "Lick your hands clean and clasp them above your head."

She complied reluctantly. "Master, I was getting close."

"I know you were," he said. "But your next orgasm will be when I make you come myself, tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Can I..."

"You will not touch yourself until then," he said. "You will keep your hands off my property except for hygiene. And you will do that quickly without pleasuring yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "But please can I just..."

"Answer the question properly," he interrupted. "And mind your place."

"Yes, sir," she said. "I understand that I will not touch my pussy except when I use the bathroom."

"And you will not pleasure yourself," he said.

"Yes, sir, I will not pleasure myself," she said.

She was lying on her bed, the sheets thrown back, her knees raised and her legs spread. She kept her hands above her head as he'd ordered, but turned onto her side and squeezed her legs together.

"Do you like knowing that you can't touch my property?" he asked.

"I love knowing that my pussy belongs to you," she said. "I love being controlled. I love being owned."

"Good girl," he said. "What are you going to do when we get off the phone?"

"I'm going to wash my face, sir, and brush my teeth," she said. "I'm going to read for a while and get to sleep early."

"I can't restrain your hands since I'm not with you," he said. "But keep them away from yourself overnight."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"In fact, put on a pair of the plain panties," he said.

She enjoyed sleeping naked for him; she did it whether or not he was there. But she got up, opened her lingerie drawer and reached past the thongs and g-strings she usually wore, to the stack of plain cotton panties she used when she had her period. She took one out and stepped into it.

"I put on a pair, sir," she said.

"That'll help keep your hands away from yourself," he said. "Tomorrow I want you to wear one of the cotton thongs, and a skirt. Wear a bra on top."

"Yes, sir," she said, aware that she'd have no jeans with a seam in the crotch to press against, and that her nipples would be more protected than usual from her fingers.

"Good night, slut. I will see you tomorrow night."

"Good night, Master."

--

He wasn't wrong about what a slut she was. She would have come for him when they were on the phone, and masturbated again before she went to sleep, texting him as required to tell him how many more orgasms she'd had.

In the morning, she'd wanted very badly to slide her hand into the plain panties, but resisted the urge. In the shower she washed herself quickly, shuddering as the cloth moved over her lips and brushed her clit, but obediently not pressing it in the way she wanted to, or dropping it and making herself come in the shower with the water beating on her spread lips.

It was hard but it also felt good. The edge of urgency she felt all day was for him. When she used the bathroom, she was acutely aware that it was his property she was exposing and cleaning with tissue. She was thankful he'd ordered her to wear a cotton thong, because the smaller or sheerer ones would have been soaked through.

She loved feeling like property. She loved being property. She ran meetings and made decisions and reviewed designs, all the while aware that whatever she was at work, she was his slave.

Many days she would take a break and go to the bathroom, into the biggest stall, and take off her skirt and underwear, put a foot up on the toilet, and play with herself, standing up. Sometimes she'd undress completely so she could play with her nipples too. If someone else came in, she would hold her breath and slow down, waiting for them to leave as her fingers circled slowly, or stroked her lips.

When she was finally alone again, she'd start rubbing her clit again, sliding her fingers down her pussy lips and into her opening, and back up again, pulling and twisting her nipples until they hurt, rubbing and pressing down on her clit. Her legs would be shaking and she would struggle not to scream as she came, then lean against the bathroom wall, spent and panting. She'd clean herself with the paper towels she had taken from the dispenser and dampened, knowing she'd need them.

Then she would get dressed, wash her hands and face, brush her hair, and go back to being an executive. And she'd text her owner, "1 in bathrm," reporting her orgasms as ordered. She would follow up with full details as soon as she could, sometimes when she got home, sometimes typing surreptitiously in a meeting with her legs crossed and squeezing herself, enjoying the knowledge that everyone around her thought she was answering work email. Sometimes she'd get herself into a loop, where writing about how she had masturbated would make her want to masturbate again. Her owner would laugh but she know he loved it.

But hadn't been able to do that today. She used the normal-sized stalls, avoiding the associations she had with the large one. She pulled her panties only down to her knees and sat down with her skirt around her, as if she were being watched. She felt his eyes on her. She was businesslike, cleaned up quickly, and went back to work, her unsatisfied cunt reminding her of who and what she was.

--

When she arrived at his apartment, he'd told her to remove her underwear while she was still on her knees at the door, greeting him as usual by sucking his cock. She pulled them off one leg at a time, earning praise for doing so with his cock deep in her throat rather than with only the head in her mouth.

At dinner, she saw that her chair was protected as usual by a towel, and arranged her skirt so that her bare ass sat on the chair. He secured her legs to the chair with velcro ties, attaching each ankle and calf to one of the chair legs so she could not close her legs at all. He reached between her legs and drew a finger slowly up between her pussy lips, barely brushing her clit when he reached the top. She moaned.

"You're very wet, aren't you," he asked.

"I've been wet all day, Master," she said. "But I haven't touched myself."

"Good girl," he said.

He enjoyed her distraction as they ate, noticed with pleasure the little movements as she tried to rock herself on the seat, knowing that with her legs restrained she could do very little to stimulate herself. When they were finished, he unbuttoned her shirt, and unclasped her bra -- like most of the ones he'd bought her, it fastened in the front -- and caressed her nipples until they were rock hard. He raised her skirt and left her there, exposed, as he cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher.

The cool air kept her nipples hard, and the rough texture of the towel made her crave stimulation she could not have. When he was done, he removed the ties and took her by the hair, forcing her down and leading her, crawling, into the bedroom.

He undressed her quickly, there being not much left to remove, and laid her back on the bed. He buckled cuffs around her wrists that were fastened to the head of the bed, then lifted her legs and motioned for her to raise her hips so he could put a pillow under them. He secured her ankle cuffs to the bedposts behind her head with a long cord, pulling them tight so each leg was pulled out and up, almost to the point of discomfort, exposing her completely.

She lay back, her pussy lips pulled open by the extreme position, his eyes on her, waiting. She didn't beg because she knew he would take his time.

From the drawer next to the bed he took a bottle of lube and one of the smaller dildos. He held it to her lips and she opened her mouth for him to push it in. Thanks to her training it required almost no effort for her to accept it all the way. She gagged slightly as he pumped it, and then he removed it, dripping with her saliva.

He put on a rubber glove, spread the lube on his hand, and inserted a finger into her ass, pushing lube in deep. That finger was replaced with several, which he turned and twisted, and then he pushed the dildo in. This was the closest her cunt had come to stimulation since the previous evening and it made her gasp and buck her hips.

The dildo went in and out of her, and his fingers touched her cunt gently. "You want it very badly, don't you," he asked.

"Yes Master, your slut wants to come so badly," she said eagerly. "Please, sir, please. I've been good all day."

His fingers did not increase their speed or pressure, and he looked into her eyes as the dildo teased her cunt through her rectum. She kept begging.

"I'm such a slut," she said. "Please. I wanted to touch myself all day and I was so good. I didn't touch your property. Please let your slut come for you!"

She couldn't see what he was doing, but when he got up on the bed and knelt between her legs she knew what that meant, and the leather of the restraints creaked as she desperately raised her hips to him. The head of his cock touched her clit and slid between her pussy lips, pushing in a little more each time. His hands opened her wider as his cock continued to tease her.

"Please fuck me, please," she repeated over and over until he turned her words into an incoherent scream by plunging into her. She would not have been able to report her orgasms properly because she lost count, unable to tell where one ended and the next began. As one subsided he'd start playing with her clit, or push the dildo hard into her ass, and set her off again.

When he finally released her legs and hands, she curled into a ball, panting, on sheets wet with her sweat and her squirting. She opened her mouth without opening her eyes when she felt his cock at her lips, licking herself off him, cleaning him as she was always required to do. Then his arms were around her, pulling her to him on the other side of the bed where the sheets were still dry, and she curled into him, falling asleep almost before she was done murmuring, "Thank you, Master."

--

She was sore the next day in the best way. She still felt his penetration of her cunt and her ass. Her wrists and ankles were still slightly red where she had pulled against the restraints. And she felt the glow of that orgasm all day.

"How did it feel to be denied like that?" he asked her as they walked in the park that afternoon.

"It was distracting and frustrating and I wanted to disobey but I didn't, because I can't, and I loved it," she said all in a rush.

He smiled. "I'm glad. You'll feel my control like that more often."

Under her jeans, she felt the tiny triangle of silk between her legs squish between her wet lips as she thought of his possession and control of them, of her.

--

"How often do you masturbate?" Chloe asked the next day. "Was it really that big a deal to go without for a day?"

"I couldn't touch myself at all," Rachele said, blushing slightly. "And I certainly do that more than once a day. I masturbate in the shower. I do it sometimes at work."

"Really?" Chloe said, sliding her hand under Rachele's skirt. "That's hot."

"And just the fact that I wasn't allowed to kept me turned on all day," Rachele said.

"So not being able to play with yourself made you want to play with yourself?" Chloe asked.

"It's another way to feel controlled," she said. "I'm constantly aware of it." She opened her legs as Chloe's fingers moved higher.

"Have you ever masturbated about me at work?" Chloe asked.

"Oh yes," Rachele said, as Chloe's fingers slid under her thong and along her lips. She opened her mouth as Chloe leaned in for a kiss.

At her apartment they didn't need to worry about a roommate, so Rachele could just raise her hips for Chloe to remove her underwear, what there was of it, and lean back on her couch with her dress up around her hips and think of nothing but Chloe's mouth.

"Do you play with yourself at your desk?" Chloe asked.

"No, in the bathroom," Rachele said, moaning and opening wider.

"With your legs open like this?"

"I stand up. I can't lie down and it's not comfortable to lean back on the toilet."

"You stand with your skirt raised and play with yourself thinking about me?"

"I have, oh god, that's nice," she gasped. "I think about you, I think about this."

"I come thinking about you all the time," Chloe said, her lips moving on Rachele's clit.

After Chloe left that afternoon, Rachele texted her owner. "I came twice or maybe three times with Chloe." He responded with a thumbs-up.

--

"Do you have plans for the weekend?" Robert asked her over breakfast the following Friday. He was leaving for a weekend business trip.

"Chloe and Kevin are away too, so no, not much," Rachele said. "I have some work to do, and it would be nice to have some days to do nothing."

"I'm thinking that might include doing nothing to pleasure yourself," he said.

"Oh yes?" Rachele said, a combination of excitement and trepidation in her voice.

"You can beg me to come before you go to work, if you want," he said. "And then I don't want you to touch yourself until I'm back on Sunday.

"All weekend?" she asked.

"Until I see you Sunday night."

"Oh, Master," she said. "That's a lot. Chloe said you might put me in a chastity belt."

"Would you like that?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I don't think Chloe would," she said.

He frowned. "Obviously I wouldn't do something like that if you were going to see her."

"I know, I'm sorry," she said. "It's making me nervous. But also wet."

"Why nervous?"

"Because three whole days is a lot," she said. "Especially if I'm home alone."

"Why wet?"

"Because I'd feel so owned and controlled even though you were away."

He nodded.

"Master, could I beg you for relief if I needed?" she asked.

"You can beg me," he said. "But you know that doesn't mean you'll get what you want. I'm doing this on the weekend because you can afford to be distracted."

"You want me like that?"

"I want you desperate, yes," he said. "And I want you feeling owned, between your legs."

"Oh, Master," she said. "May I please come for you now, sir?"

He stood and cleared the breakfast dishes off the table, then stood her up and bent her back onto the table, spreading her legs and opening her robe. He stroked her lips with his fingers. "Whose is this?"

"My cunt is yours, Master," she said. "My clit is yours. My lips are yours. All of it is yours."

He pulled the chair she'd been sitting closer, and sat, between her legs, and spoke with his lips against her pussy lips. "I own this. Without my permission you do nothing with it. I can touch you whenever I want." His fingers opened her lips.

"Yes, Master, you can," she said. "And I cannot."

"That's right. I can taste you whenever I want," he continued, his tongue running up the length of her and circling her clit. "You're mine to play with, mine to enjoy."

"Yes, Master, I am," she said, breathing harder.

His fingers stroked her lips and circled her opening as his tongue moved around her clit, lifting it, touching the tip, feeling it harden. She was moving her hips towards him, up and down.

"Can I please play with my nipples?" she asked.

"Yes, slut," he said. Her fingers begin circling them, pulling on them, lifting her breasts and letting them drop repeatedly. His tongue moved more purposefully and his fingers began slowly entering her, moving around her opening.

"Please," she said, trying to move herself onto his fingers. He allowed her to, then pushed in deeper.

"I'm going to come," she said. "Can I please come?"

"Yes," he said, his tongue moving faster and his fingers moving deeper into her, turning and probing. Her hips bucked, she squeezed her nipples and she cried out.

He didn't stop until she relaxed, then he kissed her and she grabbed his head, licking herself off his face.

--

He kissed her good-bye at the door and she dropped to her knees. He stroked her hair without opening his fly, but pressed her face to him.

"That's it, you understand, right?" he said. "No more."

"Yes, Master," she said. "I will not touch myself until you are back."

--

That day was a little less pleasurable at work, thinking of going home alone instead of going into his arms. But this was work she was doing for him, and she was always good at her job.

Netflix and a trashy novel kept her mind occupied that evening, and after a long work week she slept soundly despite her unsatisfied arousal, again wearing the cotton underwear.

In the morning she texted him, "Staying in today. Can I wear sweats and the cotton panties?" He called her to say good morning and gave her permission to wear the unusually modest underwear.

Saturday was house cleaning and a few hours work, but she was interrupted by a phone call from Chloe. She answered hurriedly; Chloe rarely phoned.

"What's up, hon, everything OK?" she asked.

"Not really," Chloe said, sounding like she'd been crying. "The weekend got all fucked up. Kevin had to come back because the Saturday night host bailed and there was no one else to cover."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," she said. "You're back home?"

"Yes. Alone," Chloe said. "All night."

"What?"

"You know how late those things go," she said, her voice breaking. "And Kevin wasn't sure if he'd be bringing anyone back."

"Wait a second," Rachele said. "You went from going away for the weekend together, to him bringing someone else home tonight?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Chloe said. "Are you home? Are you free?"

"Yes. Do you want to come over?"

"Can I, please?" Chloe said. "Robert won't mind?"

"He's away for the weekend too. Come over whenever you want."