For Sir - Bratty Playtime

Warm sunlight filters through slatted wooden blinds, streaming across my face and bathing it in gentle heat. My eyes open, adjusting slowly as I awaken. A light, sweet breeze rustles the blinds; blowing in through the open window and brushing stray strands of my dark hair over my cheek.

My body has that heavy, peaceful, languid feeling you get after a genuinely amazing sleep. I stretch slowly, and the soft ache in my muscles feels like the pleasantly painful reward after a good workout.

I lay on my stomach, one knee kinked to the side, the sheets twisted around my bare legs. Sir's arm tightens across the small of my back as my movements stir him. The rise and fall of his chest against my arm and over part of my back is soothing.

For a moment, I just lay there. Letting my contentedness spread.

Eventually, my need to please Sir overwhelms my desire to lounge in bed. He should have coffee when he wakes. He'll need it after the energy he expended the night before.

I move in tiny increments; being careful, so careful, not to rouse my Sir from his sleep, and then I pad gently to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker.

Our home is warm and bright, the temperature set higher to keep me comfortable when Sir requires me to remain naked. And he keeps me naked often.

After starting up Sir's life-giving elixir, I move to the bathroom, keen to get under a spray of hot water to work out the kinks (hehe) left in my muscles from the night before.

As I start up the water I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and pause. My initial reaction is surprise. I knew that Sir had played hard with me the night before, but I didn't think I would receive lasting reminders. Although, that may have been because by the time he finished with me, I'd been essentially limp and had promptly fallen into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Now I take a moment to examine the marks showing starkly on my pale skin.

Bruises and welts across my breasts. Beautiful red streaks from where the crop tapped. Darker purple from his mouth. His teeth. His grip.

I grin, looking at them. I love them. Physical demonstrations of my Sir's want for me. Of his desire to sate my need. They're like a prize to me.

I turn slowly, my grin looking impish even to myself, and examine my ass. Still a pretty shade of pink. Sweet marks across it as well.

My smile turns from impish to Cheshire cat. Sir will love them.

I'm so absorbed in my own reflection that I haven't noticed Sir's arrival until his voice washes over me, "You like them, little one?"

A shiver dances across my neck at his tone.

Husky.

Sexy

Aroused.

"Yes, Sir," My voice is barely a whisper.

He walks closer to me, his eyes locked on the marks across my chest in a predatory, possessive way. But when his hand comes up to trace them, it's with a gentleness that makes me shudder.

"Do they hurt, sweetie?" he asks, cupping my right breast and squeezing slowly; increasing his pressure until I gasp.

"Not much, Sir."

"My good, brave girl," he says with an approving nod.

He brushes my lips with a gentle kiss, his hand still cupping me, before lifting his head and meeting my gaze.

"Tell me what you liked best," he demands.

My Sir's simple and very effective method for making sure we learn how to please each other; after every time we play, he asks for the good parts and the bad. It's been quite some time since I had any bad to report.

Immediately, I'm lost in memories of the evening before...

A lazy, sleepy evening.

I had flopped across our bed wearing only a large T-shirt. I lay on my stomach reading, legs bent with my ankles crossed in the air.

Sir had watched me, taking advantage of the view my position and the t-shirt afforded him of my naked ass and pussy. I am no longer self-conscious around him, and even though I feel his eyes on me, I don't move.

Sir had knelt on the bed behind me, grasping my ankles in his strong hands and spreading them apart, planting a gentle kiss on the outside edge of my each foot. Then each inner ankle. Slowly, Sir kissed his way up my inner legs, pushing them wider as he went, gliding his hands firmly over my muscles.

I kept my book in front of me, pretending to continue reading while entirely focused on the trail of heat Sir's mouth was burning over my skin.

Sir parts my thighs and tugs up on my hips, pulling me to my knees.

I giggle and bring my book with me.

His hands splay my ass cheeks, and he licks from my clit to my ass in one warm swipe, drawing a quiet gasp from me.

He licks again, probing his tongue into my entrance, tasting me.

I moan softly, wriggling my hips on his tongue. He withdraws to swipe over my stiffening clit, once. Twice. On the third pass he sucks my clit into his mouth. I squeal and buck, but he holds me firmly.

When he pulls away, there's a smile in his voice as he asks, "what are you doing, Pumpkin?"

"I'm reading, Sir," comes my breathy reply.

"Ah. Are you enjoying your story?"

"Yes, Sir, I am."

His thumb glides over my clit wickedly, and I bite my lip against making another sound.

"Nothing else you'd rather be doing?" He teases, and I smirk. My tone is saucy as I say, "it's a very good book."

Sir chuckles and glides over top of me, forcing me down into the bed and pressing kisses to my back as he moves. I shudder and all but purr at his attention, arching my neck to meet his mouth as he brushes my hair aside and glides his tongue up to my ear.

Tiny sounds escape my throat.

His hand glides sensuously down my side, his weight against me is delicious, and I press my hips up to him.

When he gets to his knees, I glance back. He's pulling his shirt over his head, and the devilish streak inside me demands that I play with him some more. Push him. I go back to reading, focusing my gaze firmly in the middle of the page, but not actually seeing the words.

I hear the jingle of Sir's belt, then the whoosh of fabric as he shucks his pants. I don't look back.

In a moment, he's returned to his spot over me. My gaze is steadfast on the page, and I can feel his smile as he peppers kisses to the sensitive places on my neck and shoulder. The spots that react just for him.

I am wet. I struggle to control my breathing, keeping it even and steady, as if I'm totally unaffected by my Sir's attention.

Sir's erection rests against me, warm and stiff, and he nuzzles my neck and murmurs into my ear, "you haven't turned a single page, brat."

"It's such a good page, Sir. I keep reading it over and over," I giggle.

He chuckles as he grabs the book and tosses it aside.

"Heyyyyy," I whine, and his palm connects roughly with my ass, drawing a yelp from me.

"Enough of that. It's time for you to kneel, pumpkin."

That familiar rush of heat rockets down my spine, pooling molten between my legs.

I draw myself up and remove my t-shirt in one fluid motion. I kneel on the floor beside the bed. Knees wide, palms resting casually on my legs, my eyes meeting my Sirs' boldly.

Sir circles me with a thoughtful expression on his face, and I wonder what he has in store for me.

He pulls a pillow from the bed and approaches.

"Up on your knees," he instructs me, then drops the pillow to the floor and pushes it between my knees with his foot.

Next he goes to our toys, and pulls out the wand vibrator.

Oh, god.

I love that thing.

I hate that thing.

He comes back over to me and places the wand on the pillow, plugging it in at a nearby outlet.

He flips the switch and the steady hum sends shivers across my neck.

I wait as Sir sits on the edge of the bed, facing me.

"Play," he instructs.

I reach for the handle and he tsks me,

"No hands," he says.

I know what he means, and I lower my hands to the floor, dipping my hips down until my clit brushes against the buzzy toy.

The first contact pulls a gasp from me, and my eyes fly up to my Sir's.

He is watching me intently, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

I lower myself again, this time holding longer, allowing the vibrations to wash through my swollen clit.

I arch my back, rocking my hips. Mmmm, this I like.

I look back at my Sir and cock my mouth into a smirk. He wants me, I can tell just from his expression.

I'm gonna give Sir a show.

I sit back on my heels and roll my hips, keeping my knees wide so Sir can see my pussy rub over the the wand. I cup my breasts and tug at my nipples. I moan softly and sigh, "Sir."

My eyes are locked on his hard cock, and while I watch, he strokes himself.

Then he stands and comes back to me, circling me while I play with my toy. I rest against it gently, then move when the vibrations become too much. Over and over, wantonly.

He goes back to our toy drawer and returns with his favourite crop.

He circles me again, swatting at my skin. Sharp, stingy hits that turn warm after they connect. He strikes the sides of my breasts, my inner thighs, my ass. After each stroke, he rubs my skin, spreading the warm glow out and making me toss my head back, eyes closed, while I pant and groan.

I rock my hips against the wand, feeling my core tighten, my orgasm build. But I ease off as the intensity increases, shying away from the strength of the buzz.

Sir sets the crop aside, and circles around me. The crop strikes have made me relaxed, and I rest my hands on my thighs, looking up at my Sir with open desire as I ride my vibrator.

Sir's hands brush along my shoulders, and I purr at the sensation, until they clamp around them and shove me down onto the toy, holding firm against my bucking body.

"Ahhhhh," I squeal.

But my thrashing is nothing compared to his strength.

He releases me, and I'm left sputtering and gasping. But he only circles in front of me, lining up his dick with my mouth, sliding past my parted lips and against my willing tongue.

I moan and suck eagerly. Running my tongue along the underside.

His hand strokes my hair, urging me to tip my head back to give him fuller access. He pushes into my throat, and his hands move from my head back to my shoulders, shoving down again.

My moans are absorbed by his cock, and I'm forced to swallow over and over around him as my mouth waters.

He holds me fast, thrusting gently into my mouth, and I struggle to concentrate on pleasing him while my own pleasure sweeps through me. I grasp his thighs, my nails digging in.

I can feel him pressing against my throat, and I can't focus on anything more than sucking and moaning. His hands on my on shoulders are relentless, holding me down against the wand, and the pleasure is so intense that my eyes water. When my orgasm rolls through me, it's so powerful that my muscles momentarily lock down like I'm being electrocuted. I'm worried I'll clamp my teeth together, but Sir pulls himself from my mouth as I release.

He lets go of my shoulders and I collapse to my hands as he circles around me, kneeling behind me. He shoves roughly into my pussy, and I'm practically limp as I submit to his invasion.

He holds my hips steady to meet his thrusts, driving into me hard until I crest, my sheath clenching. As my climax ebbs, he slides out of me.

He pulls me up onto the bed, where he lays me on my back.

He pulls thick leather cuffs from the bedside table and makes quick work of applying them and fastening them together over my head.

I'm still panting, catching my breath, my clit singing, when he returns with the spreader bar. Sir locks it behind my knees and then fastens the chains up to the headboard.

As usual, I'm left exposed for his perusal, and he grabs the crop again and swats my skin on my breasts.

I yelp, and he chuckles, "do I have your attention now?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," comes his soothing reply, a juxtaposition with his continued, sharp swats with the crop.

He speckles my breasts, stomach and thighs with red marks before gently tapping the crop against my already swollen and sensitive clit.

"Sirrrrrrrrr," I moan as he slides a finger into my pussy, thrusting in time with the flicks of the crop.

I tug at my wrist restraints, fight to clamp my thighs shut against the mix of pleasure and pain.

My skin feels warm where the crop has been, my breathing changes, even and deep. My vision blurs and I have trouble focusing.

Sir steadily increases the strength of his swats, until they're a sharp crack and sting.

Mmmmmm.

My pussy feels pleasantly swollen, and I ache to be filled by more than a finger.

As if reading my mind, Sir unbuckles my ankles, tossing the crop and spreader bar aside.

He positions himself at my dripping entrance and edges himself into me, leaning down to clamp his teeth around my nipple.

I buck and keen, and Sir moves his mouth over my breasts, sucking hard, biting down before leaning back and gripping my tits in an iron hold. Pumping into my channel as I clench around him.

I know his grip will leave marks, and I arch into him, eager for more, desperate to reach that peak that builds.

All too soon though, he pulls out of me, turning me onto my knees.

The cuffs keep my arms extended, and my weight rests on my chest.

The sting of the crop on my ass has me gritting my teeth. I breath through it, and the next strike, and the next. Feeling that delicious haze that comes as the pain recedes, becoming a vague impression under so much pleasure.

I'm floating, my eyelids heavy, my muscles loose and compliant to Sir's every wish.

"Does that feel good, pumpkin?" I hear my Sir ask, but he sounds far away, and I can't form the words to tell him yes.

I have a vague sense of him setting the crop aside and running his hands firmly over my skin. Undoing my cuffs and rubbing the circulation back into my shoulders. Helping me roll to my back and the sensation of feather light strokes over my skin while I continue to moan.

His mouth brushing mine over and over. Meeting his kiss, his tongue with my own.

My knees fall wide as he glides his hand down my stomach and strums my clit in a slow, persistent rhythm.

I let out a soft, mewling cry that he captures with his mouth.

He settles his strong frame between my widespread knees and runs the tip of his cock up and down my slit, and I strain my thighs as wide as I can, arching into him. Trying to encourage him to fill me once more.

He dips into my channel, but only for a moment. Then again, slightly deeper. I reach for him, but I can't touch him from where I lay. He slides home, burying himself deep inside me, and takes my outstretched hands, clasping them tightly as he pumps his body into mine.

"Sir," I sigh happily. My pussy tightens and releases as another climax draws near. I love this feeling, of being my Sir's good slut.

And his voice is warm as he says, "cum for your Sir, sweet girl."

His slow, sensual pace has me burning for him, and my body complies without question, clenching down in a hot, long, delicious orgasm.

Sir doesn't change his pace at all as his breathing comes heavier, as he reaches his own peak and empties himself into me. He rests his weight on me, still buried inside me, and whispers, "my sweet little brat," with his mouth against my forehead, but I'm already drifting off into an easy sleep as he moves to my side and tucks me against him.

I slept deeply all night, safe against him, until that warm sunlight woke me.

Now, in the present, my cheeks heat.

Tell him what I liked best? I can hardly decide. But then I say "when you pushed me down while you filled my mouth."

He nods approvingly, and says, "when I used you exactly how I wanted."

I shudder at that, "yes, Sir."

He gives me a sexy, mischievous grin and a gentle spank, "get in the shower, brat."

I giggle and obey. Cranking the heat high and letting the steamy, hot water cascade down my sore muscles.

I let out a small, happy sigh as Sir joins me under the spray.

His hands slide over me, and when I turn to face him, hoping to touch him too, he nudges me forward again. I duck my head against the spray, and moan loudly when Sir's soapy hands knead my shoulders, working his way down my back.

He turns me, and washes my front, finally letting me stroke his shoulders and chest, lathering him as he lathers me. Our fingers dancing over slippery skin, touching all the places that make each other gasp and clench.

He's gentle over my bruises, firm over my aching muscles, and the dampness at my pussy has little to do with shower.

We rinse, and he cups my cheek as he drops a warm kiss to my mouth. He runs his thumb along my jaw, then against the seam of my lips. I part them on instinct and he pushes inside. My tongue swirls around his thumb, and I meet his steady gaze as I suck gently.

I can feel his dick stiffen against my belly as I turn my back to him, keeping his thumb in my mouth so his arm is wrapped around me.

I lean forward invitingly, letting his cock rest in the crook of my ass.

I rub myself against him. Wantonly pressing into his lap until finally I feel him exhale heavily, and guide his cock into my waiting slit.

He pulls his finger from my mouth and wraps his hand gently around my throat, pulling me against his chest, and reaches down to prop my leg against the shower ledge, giving him better access as he grips my hip with his free hand and thrusts.

His body hitting against mine makes the bruises across my ass sing, and I know I'll be sitting gingerly today.

My pussy is still sensitive from the night before, and I moan and thrust back to meet him. Wanting harder, faster.

He slides his hand from my throat to my hair, using his firm grip as extra leverage to hammer into my throbbing pussy. I slide my own hand down my body and stroke my clit, loving his moan as he registers what I'm doing.

"Sir, please cum in me," I moan.

He gives a sharp exhale, and deepens his thrusts, hitting all the right places inside me and hurtling me to my own climax.

Sir is right behind me. I can feel his cock grow fatter, impossibly harder, and pulse as he empties jet after jet of cum into my still-clenching pussy.

He groans deeply and slides out of me, standing us both upright under the shower head.

He kisses me possessively, then tenderly, then pulls back with a devilish grin on his boyish face,

"We're never going to get clean this way, pumpkin."