miss phillips Takes Dictation Ch. 02

(If you are reading this before the first installment you may well be in need of discipline.)

***

miss phillips walked on hands and knees to the end of the bed. In the soft light she stopped in front of another mirror. It was as if she were gazing into a portal, watching her breasts swaying like a harlot/housewife in exquisitely shot European erotica. To her surprise her own body turned her on.

The sound system was playing - although she did know it then - Angelo Badalementi's Music from the Motion Picture "Secretary."

Master sat in a small chair beside her the height of a piano stool or milking stool. She could see his face in the mirror.

"Gravity is a wonderful thing," he said and gently set her breasts swaying again as if playing with a desk toy.

"I have what some might call a fetish for women on all fours.

"It's very primal." He ran his fingers through her hair and along her spine.

"Aren't you a hot little earth mother?" her murmured. He squeezed her buttocks

"All civilization ripped away . . ." he simultaneously tickled her anus and as his fingers reached to tease her plump hungry lips, dripping for him.

"Vulnerable, in heat - like an animal. A mare waiting for your stallion." He begun to finger fuck her violently at a gallop then stopped abruptly.

"A kitten waiting for your tom cat." His hand left her holes and he stroked the light bit of fur she allowed on her pussy.

"Sweet lil' ewe, waiting for your ram." He plunged his hand in and out again and spanked her on the ass. The sound echoed like an obscene gun shot.

"A cow waiting for your bull." He reached down and very gently but distinctly took ahold of her udders, and 'milked' her. "Good little cow," he murmured. Squeezing and teasing down from the base of her breasts, he stretched her nipples in a maddening erotic rhythm.

"A bitch in heat waiting for her top dog."

He climbed behind her and to her mortification and helpless arousal he sniffed her bottom.

He got up and walked around in front of her. She watched his bobbing cock, mesmerized.

"Of course the difference with Man is he stands above. He gets up on his hind legs not just to mate but to command. We are not animals, miss phillips, we are human beings. We're much kinkier.

"A man can walk upright and eroticize an idea in a woman's mind." In one smooth movement he pulled his black jeans down and rubbed his cock and balls over her face

"Do you like my cock, miss phillips?"

"Yesssss, Master!"

He pulled his cock away.

"And what do you think I should do with my cock, miss phillips?"

"FUCK ME, Master!"

He turns up Badalementi's "Secretary" and climbs around behind her.

He sniffs her.

He tastes her hot dripping pussy, his tongue ladling the honey down his throat and lashing at her swollen lips, coming maddeningly, insolently, dominantly close to her clit.

He replaces his tongue with his cock, holding it in his hand like a pistol, teasing it over her slit, slapping it against her clit, teasing her lips again.

"Do you like that miss phillips?"

"YessssSSSS, Master!!"

He rams the entire length of his cock into her sopping wet cunt.

He fucks her, straddling her from behind, his hands finding her breasts like nature's handles, tweaking her nipples, spanking her ass, teasing her asshole, tugging gently on her hair.

Balls deep in the secretarial pool, the scent and her cries of her ecstasy filling his room like incense and flutes.

She watches him in the mirror, remembering his quote from his profile, "neither built like Arnold nor hung like Northern Dancer." Yet somehow he feels like a tree trunk inside her.

A root growing out of the ground and pounding into her cunt.

"I am your mare, your kitten, your ewe, your cow, your bitch, Master!" she finds herself crying lasciviously.

He pounds her relentlessly until he cums like a volcano, white hot lava splashing the walls of her womb, jets of ivory pleasure; her juices honey sweet, anointing her King in hot summer rain. She mewls like a kitten.

They are awash in the wave, faces in soft focus ecstasy in the mirror.

He spanked once and slid out. She groaned.

"Clean me up, miss phillips."

She spun around and dove as if the sudden void in her vagina could only be satisfied orally and deeply.

Master ran his fingers through her hair, as she bobbed in happy-girl mode, he reached to gently tweak her nipples, greatly enjoying himself and her.

"Mmmmm. That's it, miss phillips, taste the juice your pussy celebrates with when it's been properly fucked, you hot, sweet, hungry, sexy, slut."

She licked as if she hadn't eaten in days.

He cuddled her.

He thanked her for the gift of her submission.

She asked him why some women need to be treated rough and nasty. Was it wrong?

"I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or therapist but I think like everything else it's both ingrained and taught. Your cultural environment, your own personal experience, that which links you to human story.

"Something naughty happened that you had no control over but it aroused you and now you crave it but feel guilty. You need to be erotically indulged in your forbidden fantasy and erotically punished for enjoying it. (Even if need be punished for enjoying the punishment.)

"And then cuddled for your bravery and your honesty.

"You have every right to be dominated by a man who respects you and cherishes you - even though he may be disrespectful in the bed room, call you his slut, his whore, his bitch, humiliate you, own you, treat you like an animal if that pleases you both."

She thought: "Sure, go ahead. Fuck me and understand me, you bastard!"

He returned to his 'lecture' and she listened intently like a good student even if there was perhaps just a trace of mischief in that adoring smile.

He suddenly brought his open mouth down on her nipple, grasped her breast in his hand like a precious goblet and sucked as if satisfying a deep and primal hunger.

And then the other.

She held her mouth open wide in surprise and ecstasy.

He calmly resumed his 'lecture': "Your responding to the ad suggests you have these needs. There seem to be only three sane responses." He flicked a wet nipple with each response to which she moaned her encouragement.

"One, where you admit what you need and get it - and are respected, mentored and cherished.

"Two, where you wean yourself off what you need or just drop it, replacing it with loving, decent, wholesome, sharing, nourishing vanilla sex. Plus maybe macramé.

"Three, where you become the aggressor."

"I'd like Sane Response #1, please. Do you think we'll ever change categories?"

He shrugged. "Only if we want to. Now it's time for the next part of your interview."

He turned up Badalementi's music soundtrack.

(Because a hand firmly and suddenly applied to a full buttock is a rifle shot. He didn't want his neighbors to think the revolution had begun.)

He took the mirror from the foot of the bed and deftly tilted it so that he could lean it horizontally against the book case. It revealed the side of the bed where he sat.

"Please drape yourself across my lap, Miss phillips."

She took a nervous breath and did so.

"Can you see yourself?"

She saw her entire body in the horizontal mirror, totally vulnerable like a school girl. She whispered, "Yes, Master."

"Why do some women enjoy being spanked?" he asked rhetorically.

He continued like a lecturer and she had to stifle a giggle at the thought of him her using his bottom like a lecture desk as a hall full of students witnessed her exposure and the punishment she felt deliciously certain was to come.

"One: Because the bottom is designed to absorb impact and that's why people have been spanking it for millennia."

(He felt her generous cheeks then brought his hand down quite firmly.)

"Two: While the initial blow stings, it leaves a warm glow."

(He massaged her warm glow, his fingers parting her buttocks so she could feel the air playing across her anus.)

"Three: The spanking offers confession, penance, and absolution."

(He fingered her cunt and asshole and when she moaned brought his hand down HARD on her ass.)

"Four: The wiggling cheeks vibrate right down to the clit."

(He gently reached to delicately squeeze her there. Her body shuddered.)

Five: All holes are available to anyone who wishes to explore and stimulate them.

(He wiggled his fingers in her holes and then brought his hand down repeatedly on her hungry ass.)

Six: And it does turn your bottom a lovely, rosy hue.

(He admired his handiwork and the crimson blush on her ivory cheeks.)

They paused there as she caught her breath. To her surprise she felt elated as she saw her proud red ass in the mirror.

"You've obviously given this a lot of thought," she said mischievously.

"Let's call it my Master's thesis," he agreed. "'Erotic Corporal Discipline and the Submissive Female Bottom: A Penetrating Analysis.'"

His voice became crisp like an interrogator's.

"How old were you when you first had sexual feelings?"

She struggled to keep up and named an age.

"What did you do about it?"

"I touched myself."

"Tell me exactly what you did."

She confessed her first stumbling, then passionate rubbings, of her lips, the exquisite discovery of her clit and how she would rub it frantically and cum like a young, silent, shy banshee jerking her hips in primal hunger.

"What was your first experience with another person, even just seeing them naked or them seeing you naked? Jerking off the family dog counts," he said deadpan.

She giggled. He spanked her bottom.

She confessed her sexual path and the things that happened that she didn't understand and still aroused her and made her feel guilty.

He spanked her bottom and gave her absolution.

(There may well have been a relative or a family friend involved, but Miss phillips deserves her secrets. Although if that had been the case, it was his fault, he was the adult, and she mustn't blame herself if she feels guilty, and if it helps she can be erotically punished.)

While she was still on his lap he asked her:

"miss phillips,"

"Yes, Master."

"Have you ever reached back and spread your cheeks for a man to penetrate, miss phillips? Felt the hot searing breath of your Master as he inspected you. Taken his tongue, his fingers and finally when he has relaxed you and lubed felt the thick knob of his cock, knocking at your door, felt the sudden mixture of pain and pleasure as he enters you, expanding, you stretching you. His hands on your breasts, she shaft of his cock quivering in anticipation of your hungry, horny virgin hole?"

She gulped. "No Master."

"But you've thought about it."

"Well, not quite the way I'm thinking about it now. But, oh, yes. Many times. And once, in college, a boyfriend . . . and it hurt. I cried. But it was partly that I was frustrated and I don't think he knew what he was doing. . ."

"I'm sure your boyfriend in college didn't know or care to prepare you for that."

They sat for a long time in silence, her body sleek and glistening across his lap, her cheeks red, her cheeks wet. She felt his cock beneath her like a permanence of iron.

He had told her how he would prepare her.

"What would you like now, Miss phillips?" he asked quietly.

"Will it hurt?" she moaned.

"Some, at first, but it will hurt less the more you relax." He was rolling a joint. He explained that it was a very mild mix of marijuana, he didn't want her disoriented, just relaxed. He held it to her lips to puff.

They had a glass of white wine. At his order he brought the bottle from the refrigerator between her breasts which he licked and bit thoroughly. When they had enjoyed the wine he ordered her to produce the scarves he had ordered her to bring.

"I'm going to tie you to the bed now. On your back, legs spread, Miss phillips."

She giggled. "Yes, Master!"

He blindfolded her. Her other sense, particularly touch and hearing, came alive.

He tied her to the bed with her scarves. She felt helpless. To her surprise this was a wonderfully safe and liberating feeling as if she was no longer responsible for her own guilt.

After he tied her to bed, he gently lubed her up and teased her sphincter as he would over the course of the evening, increasing the finger count. "I could have used a butt plug, but I you deserve the personal touch."

Then he was gone.

She had no idea how long it was until she felt his presence again, minutes or hours. She felt the swish of the riding crop in the air above her then inhaled as he held it under her nose.

"Doesn't the leather smell delicious, miss phillips?" His voice merged with the velvet darkness. "I admit it's a somewhat trite device, but I have found ladies tend to respond to a certain rugged traditionalism."

Suddenly, the crop flicked smartly on her clit . . .

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, gawwwwwwwwwwwwd."

For good measure, he rough fucked her mouth.

But he didn't cum.

He untied her, shaky legged like a newborn colt filly.

"Put your ass up in the air, Miss phillips," he said firmly.

She put her head down and presented her virgin ass to her Master, her hands snaking back as he had taught her to do, opening her cheeks to his gaze.

He licked her anus lovingly and lasciviously. She moaned.

Suddenly his tongue was gone and she felt as empty as she's ever felt.

He let he teeter there for a moment. Then he swiftly replaced his tongue with his finger and he spun her around and kissed her, tongue deep as she hungrily danced with his tongue, tasting her tangy juices.

His hand was entwined in her hair as he pulled her back.

He spanked her bottom once, lubed her up, his fingers firm and possessive.

She was required to request each when she was ready and the finger count began again. One finger, two, three - "OMG!" - four.

He moved around to the front so she could watch him lube his cock.

Her mouth was hanging open with lust.

He moved back behind her and she felt the familiar weight behind her.

"Spread your cheeks, miss phillips."

She froze, as if captured in time. Her hands snaked back elegantly in slow motion.

She grasped her cheeks and spread. Although he had been looking at it all night, her small, helpless, hungry sphincter took his breath away and his cock twitched.

"Show me where you want it."

Her middle finger as if on a spring snapped to point to her anus.

He took his well lubed member in his hand and teased the head against the pucker of her sphincter.

"Ohhh," she said, pleasure and pain starting to merge.

He leaned forward, grunted, reached to milk her, stroke her hair, and spank her bottom.

"Tell me where you want it."

"In my assssssSSSSS, Master!" He POPPED inside.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" She writhed like a wild thing.

"Just relax," her murmured. His hand found her clit and gave it an affectionate squeeze, then his finger plunged into her cunt and expertly found her g-spot which he stroked in sharp staccato brushes.

She panted in pure animal lust.

He watched as his member penetrated like a long sabre of flesh into her most secret and intimate hole.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she cried.

His balls slapped against her cunt. They both reveled in the tight hug she had on is dick. Wave of pleasure followed wave of pain and then suddenly they were the same wave. He thrust and pounded her, spanking her cheeks, owning her hole

She sobbed, "Oh, God, Master take my ass, own it use it, humiliate me."

"You bitch you slut you whore you cunt, you like it up your ass as I spank you. DON'T YOU!?"

He was her ram, his hands on her breasts like they were handles placed there just for that purpose.

"Yessssss! Oh, God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming as you fuck my dirty ass!"

And so did she in powerful waves and he gripped her breasts and rode her in their private rodeo, his cum spurting hot and hungry like a rigid fire hose, deep into her bowels. She cleaned him willingly with her mouth.

Afterwards, they cuddled.

"So that was, like, Anal 101?" she purred.

"And an advanced course at the same time. You get an A+ and a Bachelorette's degree."

"It was so intense."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, but I don't think I'd want to do it every night."

"Just full moons, special occasions, and rainy afternoons."

"Mmmm."

She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, they made love gently, then in a hot fucking frenzy, and talked.

"You've kept a lot of things locked within," he said. A lot of stories have been trapped there - not just the naughty ones."

"How can I free them?"

"Clear some time and invite them out to play."

And that's what she did.

Like any new couple they were on fire sexually in their first months together and she was with him as much as her schedule allowed. The first erotic novel was up and online before they knew it. As sales increased fun time increased. They would fuck and write and play and write and fuck. Sometimes she called him Master, sometimes Daddy. She developed as a writer; his writing gained depth. They liked it best with his depth was inside her when she was on all fours - improvising obscene and loving dialogue together.

~*~

And when her romantic, quirky, epistolary tale of Regency London (or something else entirely), outsold his own current offering - albeit briefly - he took her out to an intimate, occasionally hilarious, dinner. They sipped champagne and danced, remembering how they started writing erotica - and still did occasionally for fun.

That night he spanked her bottom extra hard before fucking it.

He was very proud of her and she knew it.

She just glowed.