Fooled Me Twice Pt. 03

"Yes, um, Sir."

"Do you wish to continue today?"

"Yessir."

"Then quit fucking around and obey your Master's commands."

"Yes, master," and she kissed my toes with lips and tongue, just a touch on each digit, and I praised her afterward before giving her another command.

"Stand up, kneel on the loveseat next to me, facing the wall and leaning over the back, with tits hanging down. Now move!"

I stood up, and she scrambled to go where I ordered her to be. As soon as she was situated, I stood behind her and slammed my cock deep inside her soaked snatch. Then, I began to stroke, pressing down on her clit with the bottom of my slippery cock and brushing up against her G spot with the head. Liz slammed her pussy back against my rod, moaning in ecstasy. I wasn't trying to give her pleasure, but I wasn't close to coming when she came, screaming like a banshee. I wasn't ready to empty my balls, so I kept pounding and remembered reading about the dom trash-talking to humiliate the sub.

"Um, you're just a greedy whore; you like my cock, don't you bitch." I guess my words didn't inspire her at all, or maybe it was my delivery, and after listening to more of the same coming from me, she started laughing, not loud, but she stopped screaming and made sneering noises between her teeth like precious the pup. I was getting pissed at her, so I spanked her right butt cheek hard.

She froze, stunned that I slapped her ass cheek.

"So you think I'm funny, slut?"

No answer, I think she was in shock, so I slapped the left cheek harder. She sucked in a lot of air and groaned but didn't speak or scream.

I picked up my belt, folded it in half, and snapped it, making a loud cracking sound. "Does the cat have your tongue, whore?"

An eerie silence descended upon my living room, only disturbed by the ticking of my grandfather clock.

"You're trying to provoke me, and you're succeeding. But, my pride won't let me lose this challenge from you, Liz. You wanted this, and I'm going to give it to you, you slag. Starting now, you have ten seconds to be on your hands and knees on my bed."

She didn't move and was still hanging over the back of the couch. This bitch was defying me, and I didn't expect that, but I couldn't back down.

"Insubordinate slut, I don't know whether I should beat you until the blood runs down your back and forms puddles on the floor, or tie you to a chair, gag you, and then go pick up a couple of freshman girls at the Keep and audition both of them to be your replacement?"

"No, you wouldn't, don't do that, please I'm sorry."

"Cunt, why do I have to train you to address me as Sir or Master. Apologize properly, bitch."

"Please forgive me, master. I'm sorry, master. I will obey your commands, master. Please punish this useless slave, master."

"Bedroom, now."

She jumped off the sofa and disappeared down the hallway as I smiled, knowing I was in control again. Liz faced the headboard on her hands and knees when I walked into our bedroom.

A different chapter in the book Liz gave me addressed how to inflict pain onto the sub. The book cautioned against hitting so hard that the skin was bruised or even cut open, for an injured slave was no use to the master. Instead, the author wrote how continuous mild contact on various erogenous zones, such as the bottom of the feet, the back of the thighs, the areola and nipples, and the mons venus, can give the submissive partner sensory overload. After a few moments of light contact, the nerves in that area become so inflamed that pain and pleasure intertwine, and the sub must endure some pain before receiving pleasure.

I remembered some of the simple household items listed in the book and where and how to use them. So I left Liz alone on the bed and quickly rounded up a few things to try out. While in the kitchen, I had an evil inspiration, so I took out my phone and made a call.

"Wicked Grounds, Madame Giselle speaking."

"Is Jerry available?"

"One moment, please."

A minute later, "Jerry speaking."

"Jerry, this is Marty; my wife Liz and I came by earlier today. I have a question about your group get-togethers; I believe you have one tonight?"

After he answered my questions, I hung up and took my finds in the kitchen to the bedroom.

The first implement of torture found in the home was a wooden spoon with a round handle, and I held it by wrapping my hand around the spoon part. Then, holding it an inch away, I began tapping the soles of her feet. I wondered if the book was telling the truth because Liz still did not react after a few minutes. Then I heard a whimper and her toes started curling, so I continued striking her feet for a few more minutes, enjoying the squeals coming from her lips. When they increased in volume and intensity, I stopped because I didn't want her to come too quickly.

With the same spoon, I repeated the light tapping stroke using my other hand against the back of her thighs, moving the handle up and down both thighs. It took five minutes before her first reaction came, a cry from her lips, and I wasn't sure whether it was from pain or pleasure. I continued until her head dropped down onto the mattress.

The next household torture instrument was a dish towel which I swung in a circular motion with just the very end of the towel striking her butt cheeks. Since I had already warmed them up, it wasn't very long before her ass was wiggling, and she was making squeaking noises. I continued for another minute before stopping, and I ordered Liz to sit on the end of the bed, hands-on head and fingers interlocked.

My third inexpensive torture device was one of my costly silk ties. I folded it and began whipping the nipples and areola softly while staring at her tearful eyes. Her nipples went from firm to swollen and rigid, and a constant whine was coming from her diaphragm.

"Are we in agreement now that I am the master and you are my slave?"

In a whining, high-pitched voice, she answered, "Yes, master, I'm yours, whatever you want, wherever you want, use this worthless skanky slut for your pleasure."

While swinging my tie upward against her tits, switching back and forth between my arms, her cries and moans became more pronounced, and I think she was ready to climax. I had to stop because my arms were burning.

"Lay on your back, spread your legs slightly, and slide your hands under you, cupping your butt cheeks. Do not move your hands until I tell you to." I waited until she was in position, and I picked up my last torture device, four bristles from our kitchen broom, held together at one end by a rubber band.

Held between my thumb and index finger, I spread the bristles apart by a quarter of an inch and lightly scratched an inch above her clit before slowly dragging the strands across an area a diaper would cover. Liz was making faces and moaning, biting her lower lip while shaking her head side to side, and her legs were twitching.

Finally, she begged, "Please let me come, master, please, sir."

I stayed silent, watching the agony in her facial expressions as the love of my life was twitching and shaking, lying on her back.

Crying, she pleaded, "Please, master, let me come; I'll be good, I promise."

"Very well, my little pain slut, COME!"

I slid two fingers of my left hand over her engorged clitoris and buried it between her flooded pussy's lips.

Her heels dug into the bed, raising her ass off the mattress, and she let loose a blood-curdling scream as she came, her body trembling and covered with sweat. Slowly, she slumped back flat on the bed, and while struggling to catch her breath, she mouthed, "Thank you, sir," toward me.

I didn't want a grateful slave at that moment; I wanted a slave I could fuck. So I rolled her over on her stomach, lifted her hips until her knees supported them, and slammed my cock inside her, eliciting a brief declaration, "Oh, fuck my cunt."

I did, and my only desire was to fill my little whores pussy with my cum. I was an unfeeling robot, driving my prick in and out of her, not caring if she enjoyed it or if I was hurting her. My scrotum was tightening up, and I felt the tingling as I continued slamming into her.

I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her up until she leaned back against me as I started to come. My other hand began lightly slapping the area around her clit while her arms began flailing around, and she had to endure another orgasm. She couldn't escape because I had a firm grip on her hair. After she stopped thrashing around, I scooped up some cum that was leaking out and smeared it over her tits. Then, using the hair I was holding, I turned her head to the side and captured her lips with mine.

We cuddled on the bed and rested for half an hour before I stood beside the bed and pulled her head toward my cock.

"Look, Liz, it's still hard. Don't you think you should take care of it?"

She dropped to her belly, swallowed half my cock down her throat, and my second load was on its way to her stomach within five minutes. She continued to suck on the head for a moment, draining the last few drops of my cum from the one-eyed serpent before dropping her lips and cleaning up all of our love juices covering my groin. When Liz finished, she sat back on her heels with splotches of cum covering the lower half of her face, smiling.

Lifting her and laying her on the bed, I pushed her knees against her breasts and spread them apart. Staring down at her ravaged body, I returned the favor by cleaning her out with my tongue and lips, showing no tenderness. She had two huge orgasms, and the second climax almost caused her to faint. Now we both had a mask of cum on our faces that needed cleaning up. I sat on the end of the bed and pulled her to kneel over my thighs; then, we licked the goo off our faces. It was the most erotic experience between Liz and me up to this date.

After soaking in the tub for an hour, touching and sharing gentle kisses, we dried off and wandered back into the bedroom.

"Are you hungry?"

I must have confused her because she hesitated, then dropped to her knees in front of me and started licking my cock. She was still acting like my slutty slave girl.

"Food, not cum, you stupid bitch, don't move." I walked into the closet and dressed in black slacks, a black T-shirt, and black socks and shoes. Then I looked at the boxes Liz was hiding in the corner of the closet under some long dresses and coats. One day she had a heavy class load, and mine was light, so I snooped around in the closet and discovered some pretty revealing clothing. I found what I was looking for in two boxes; a black thong, a red leather micro miniskirt, a red chainmail halter that didn't cover the bottom of her tits, and 5-inch red stiletto strap-ons were in one box, which I dropped in front of Liz.

"Get dressed, slut."

I fastened a gold body chain around her waist when she was dressed and attached an anklet around her left ankle. I led her to her makeup table and ordered, "Dark, thick, and slutty."

Liz didn't argue; she just began applying eyeliner as I brushed out her hair before braiding it and attaching the braids to her head. I took one of her wigs, an auburn one, out of its box and waited for her to finish her makeup. I inspected her and was satisfied with the result. I handed her the wig, and she put it on, fastened it with bobby pins, and then brushed it out. I asked her to put eyeliner around my eyes and use gel to spike my short hair. When she finished, my parents wouldn't have recognized either of us. Now for the final accessories, which were in the second box.

The first items in the box were the pink collar and leash she placed on me before the Halloween party, and now I returned the favor. The second item was a small vibrating butt plug, but I lubed and inserted it without any protest, just a tiny moan. The third item was a ball gag, and she quickly opened her mouth, accepting the ball while I tightened the strap around her neck under her wig. The last item was a pair of handcuffs that I used to cuff her wrists together in front of her.

Ready to leave, I escorted her to my car, helped her into the seat, and buckled her three-way restraint. As I pulled out of my driveway, Liz looked at me and I think she smiled. About halfway to my destination, a police car pulled up on my right side at a traffic light. When he turned his head and saw Liz, she looked at him and waved with both hands handcuffed together. He delayed when the light changed and pulled behind me, following me until I turned into the parking lot next to Wicked Grounds. There were only a few parking places left, and when I found one and got out, the police car was gone.

I helped Liz out, handcuffed her hands behind her back, and led her to the storefront by the pink leash she used to humiliate me.

"Pay attention, my little slave slut; when we enter the store, I want you to grind that pussy attached to those long legs and work the room. I want to hear the oxygen getting sucked out of the room. Do you understand, cunt?"

Liz nodded vigorously."

We entered through the front door and were directed to an elevator that we rode down to the basement. I paid the cover charge and spotted Jerry heading my way.

"Marty? Is that you, man? If you hadn't called earlier, I wouldn't have recognized either of you."

"You said you were short one dancer for tonight?"

"Follow me," and we slowly made our way through a crowd gathered in the room, and by the time we were halfway across the room, you could've heard the screams of an ant being burned by a magnifying glass. We reached a large circular platform in one corner, and I prepared Liz by removing the ball gag and releasing her from the handcuffs.

I wondered how she would be able to dance without music and Jerry answered that question when he handed me headphones plugged into a wall jack. I put them over her ears and assisted her up on the platform. She immediately started swaying and twirling, and as I looked around the room, I could see dancers in the other three corners on identical platforms.

Jerry disappeared and was replaced by a hooded waitress who was topless, wearing wicked-looking alligator clips on her nipples. She offered me drinks, and I accepted a glass of wine for myself and a bottle of water for Liz. People were approaching us, men and women, and the first to reach us, a tall black woman with a set of tits training to be released from the letter halter, asked, "May we touch?"

"Be my guest." I wasn't prepared for her to touch me first, but she did ask politely and certainly knew her way around the male anatomy. A steady stream of people strolled by, feeling Liz's ankles, stroking her thighs, rubbing her pussy, caressing her tits, and the women added a lipstick kiss on any visible bare skin. I counted 27 lipstick kisses on her body. Jerry came by, and I thought we'd been there an hour and a half and I was shocked when he told me almost 3 hours had passed. When I helped Liz get off the platform, she looked like a woman possessed by demons, making strange, whining sounds.

I didn't put the ball gag back in or handcuff her for the return trip to my car. As I led Liz slowly through the crowd, her body was covered with hands, grabbing, fingering, pinching, and rubbing any part they could touch, smearing the lipstick.

After getting her settled in the passenger seat, I started the car and burned out of the parking lot. Tears were running down her face, and she was rocking back and forth, and for a moment, I thought she was mentally traumatized.

That thought vanished when she spoke, "Master, please hurry home. If you thought I was hot after the first trip here, you can't begin to comprehend how wound up my nerves are right now. May I touch myself, sir?"

"Do not climax, or I'll put thirty strokes of my belt on your back, butt, and legs."

When I pulled into my driveway, the neighbors next door and across the street were partying in their yards, so after helping Liz get out of the car, I led her with the leash down the driveway and around the back of my car. Party noise disappeared, so I knew they saw her. I took my time, and when I closed the front door behind us, I could hear a loud cheer from the peanut gallery outside. I led her to the bedroom, sat on the end of the bed, and pulled her body over my legs, presenting two bare butt cheeks for my inspection. I delivered a stinging slap on each cheek before standing her up and giving her a command.

"I am going to fuck you now and I don't care if you come. Do not say one word until I tell you that you may speak again, even if I wait until Monday morning. Nod once if you understand."

Liz nodded, and I ripped my clothes off, threw her on her back on my side of the bed, and jumped on top. Her legs circled my torso, and she slapped me when I started thrusting deep inside her pussy. I didn't try to keep score, but I'm sure she won by a wide margin. I remember telling her she could speak again after coming inside her honey hole after emptying my tank and filling her up with a load.

At some time in the night, I awoke with Liz on top of me, slowly swaying back and forth. When she sensed I was awake, she started fucking me, driving her pussy lips hard against my groin, clawing my chest, and screaming obscenities at me.

"Mother fucking, son of a bitch, shithead, cock sucking prick. You treated me like a piece of meat, letting those perverts touch me. You bastard, whore master, ass sucking, degenerate; you think you own me, you wife abusing, cunt licking pervert. OOOOAAAAAHHHHH, oh my God, OH my God, OHMY GAWWWWDDDD," and she came, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you, Marty."

Today had been a perfect day.

*****

Sunday morning was an overcast day on the chilly side of 50° F, so we stayed in and talked about the book, the visit to the BDSM store, and what happened yesterday when we arrived back home. Liz was attached to me all day, sitting in my lap and giving me tiny kisses, touching my lips with her fingertips, and sucking on my nipples while stroking my cock and balls with her long fingernails.

We hashed out some rules for this experiment and agreed to two sessions, each for six hours, with each of us being dominant and submissive one time. A safeword would be decided upon and used by the submissive or Sub if they wanted to stop. Under no circumstances would anyone else be involved, and whatever happened in these two sessions would remain private between us.

Then we agreed on limits; no piercings or tattoos, no pee or poop play, and water had to be provided if requested. We tossed a coin to see who was the Dom first, and I won. Saturday, March 1^st, was the day chosen, and we would begin at 6 AM by putting the phone on two rings and a message on the recorder that we were in a study session.

By the time we finished talking, we were both crazy with lust for each other: Liz was the firecracker, and I was the match.

Liz grabbed my cock, sat down on it facing me, and began sucking my tongue out of my mouth. Not to be outdone, I pinched both of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and pulled on them. Liz countered by squeezing one of my nipples painfully between two fingernails, and I answered back by moving my left hand to her butt and forcing my index finger into her super tight ass. With a growl into my mouth, she grabbed a handful of hair on the back of my head, pulled my head back, and began licking my face, starting on my chin.

She had me, so I did the only thing I could; I put my other hand on her bottom and began lifting her a few inches and dropping her. Then being the poor loser I am, I jammed my other index finger in her ass and started fucking in and out with two fingers.

She made a squeaking noise, grabbed a chunk of hair with her other hand, and pulled my face between her tits, trembling as we slowly reached Nirvana.