Night Owl

"You can talk now."

"Fucking hell..."

Smack. Sting. Her hand. My face. Again.

"When I am talking to you, it is either 'yes, Mistress' or 'no, Mistress.'"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy," she replied, pinching my cheek as if she were my mother.

Unfortunately, that was an instant erection killer.

Our positions were reversed as Mistress released me from my restraints and brought me to me knees in front of her, attaching a chain leash to a collar she tightened lovingly around my neck. Now I had gone from "slave" to "pet", or any mix of the two monikers. Without further ado, I was dragged like an unwilling, rabid dog towards the center of the dungeon, where a board with four rings stood, drilled into a cement base. After what seemed like an eternity of my leash being tied in the most elaborate way, I found myself naked on a cement floor, on all fours, with a chain leash tied in some sort of Celtic knot. I could tell she didn't want me to go anywhere, and it wasn't worth the risk of trying to figure out how it was done.

A pain that I had never felt until that specific moment abated my curiosity.

Unbeknownst to me, Mistress had brought out one of her favorite toys to play with: the beloved cat o' nine tails. The whip dug into my back as I screamed in pain, my body shuddering with every splintered sting. What was even crazier was the fact that Mistress moved down my back with every whip, and when she got to my naked, un-afflicted ass, my screams stopped, and so did her silence. I could feel myself getting hard again, and Mistress made sure that I was aware of her observation.

"I think someone likes this, don't you?" she asked, the sarcasm so obvious you could cut it with a butter knife.

"Yes, Mistress." I replied, obviously unable to refute that I wanted more.

The whipping kept on going, and with every sting of the cat o' nine tails, I felt the inner primal urge of sex begin to spin out of control. Mistress knew this, thus she kept me where I was, and didn't stop.

And when she did, I don't know whether it was sexual frustration or pure anger, but I was enraged. I heard something behind me, as if it something had fallen, and I turned around to look. Mistress stood there, her last remaining garments at her feet, her naked body open to me for the first time. She slowly walked towards me, and my trance wasn't broken until her lovely whip greeted my face. I was forced onto my back as Mistress deemed it fit to ride me. And that was something that I couldn't-and didn't- resist.

As her warm, wet pussy engulfed my cock, I exhaled deeply. A subtle "Yes, Mistress," permeated the air as she started off slowly, taking every inch of my manhood. I groaned with her every thrust. My moaning was in sync with hers, and I slowly brought my hands to her sides. In one fluid motion, she pinned my hands over my head to the slab of concrete, shaking her head at me. I guess I should have known better.

She increased her pace, and I tried to match it. With every thrust came either a kiss or a bite, which revealed that I was not a pet anymore. Another transformation had taken place, and it seemed I had graduated from "pet" to "toy." It was something that really didn't bother me for obvious reasons, and something that I think Mistress needed. Based on that logic, I thrusted into her as she rode me, causing her back to arch and her chest to pull forward. The tease was more than necessary to get an orgasm building, so I went harder.

As the orgasm rose within me, she stopped, and looked down on me.

"Not until I say so."

"Yes, mistress." I replied.

She slid down me again, and I moaned again. It was obvious that Mistress adored my manhood by the way she built from a lovemaking to a wild sex pace in a matter of minutes. From every inch of my cock getting buried in the depths of her, and her perfectly round and fit curves caressing my body, it was hard not to build to orgasm. She knew this, and she loved waiting to the final moment before she got off and slapped me.

"Not until I say so."

"Yes, Mistress."

She mounted me again, this time thrusting as fast as she could. I couldn't help but buck against her as well, the orgasm building. Not until she says so, I thought. Awfully difficult in this particular situation. But I kept going. Mistress' moans got louder and louder as the fucking pressed on, then she looked down at me. She smiled, and released my hands. I took her by the waist and I pounded her for all I was worth. What were moans became screams, and grunts turned to yells. Both of our bodies were riddled with sweat and pain, but we both knew it was worth it.

My orgasm was once again building, but his time it was out of control. Mistress knew this as well, and put her hand around my neck. I was expecting this, but judging by her facial expressions, she had an orgasm the needed to be released as well.

But she maintained one last bit of control, enough to breathe, "Now, slave."

And that was all I needed. I felt myself unload inside her, screaming as loud as I possibly could. Both of our bodies writhed in the waves of pleasure that followed. The screams slowly faded, the lights slowly dimmed, and Mistress held me close, and whispered "Good slave" in my ear. Still breathing heavily, I couldn't reply, but I could feel my body go numb in post-orgasmic bliss. I felt Mistress' hand trace down over my eyes, and everything faded to black.

I woke up at the bar, same bartender, fully clothed (thankfully), same people around. Had a pretty bad headache, but that was to be expected based on the bill in front of me. I threw down my credit card, and my friend Hank ran it.

"So how was it?" Hank asked.

"Huh?"

"Our friend that chatted it up with you brought you back about a half hour ago. Seemed like you were gone for a few hours."

"Yeah, I guess I was."

I got up to leave, but Hank stopped me.

"She left you this," he said, and handed me a card. On the front, lovingly, was written "Mistress" and on the back was a phone number, coated with red lipstick.

Hank chuckled to himself. "So how was it?"

"You don't want to know," I snorted, and left the bar.