Pet's Doorstep Challenge

You know, what happened that night was your own damned silly fault. If you hadn't have tried to be clever then you'd probably have just spent the evening kneeling naked by my side while we watched TV, but no, you decided to try your luck...

It started while we were at the supermarket, buying food and supplies for a rare weekend together. Ten minutes walking the aisles and we had everything we'd need for 72 hours locked away from the world, when you put those plastic clothes pegs in the basket. It's not traditionally sexy, I know, but there it is – it was the clothes pegs that started it. I just started thinking about how the rubber on them would have a wonderful grip on your nipples, and how beautifully you'd squirm if I gently tugged on them.

We were stood at the till when I held you from behind, my arm over your left shoulder so my hand settled on your right. I've always loved holding you like that. It feels and looks so loving, but we both know what it means. We are no longer a traditional couple – I am now your master and you are my plaything.

I leant forward and spoke gently in your ear. "I want you to take off all your clothes before you unlock your front door. I don't care when you take your clothes off – you can do it right here for all I care – but if you are wearing a single stitch of fabric when you put your key in that door, there will be trouble. Do you understand me?" The tiny nod of your head and the quickening of your breathing was all I needed as answer.

It took about an hour to drive back to yours, and it was fully dark when we finally pulled into the parking area behind your house. I wish I knew if you were excited or scared, but you'd grown increasingly quiet as we'd got closer to our destination. I know my heart was racing and my cock was swelling at the thought of your bare flesh.

To a guy who grew up surrounded by fields, the flat you had back then was like a fortress – 20 blocks of flats in a square with a lone archway leading to the carpark and communal garden within. Each block contained just three flats, one on each of its three floors. At this time of night, the only light in the courtyard came from the flickering of TVs in windows and the second hand glow of the street-lights outside the fortress.

That night, as we got out of the car, one of your distant neighbours started the climb to their door, the light from their stairwell flooding out through the glass walls to the front and back. And that was why I was so looking forward to your little challenge. I knew that you had a choice to make – you could climb the stairs in the dark, strip and fumble for the door lock, or you could press the switch that would give you just under five minutes of light to climb the stairs and find the lock, but which would mean your naked body would be on display at the top of this pillar of light.

I'll admit that my heart sank a little when we started climbing the stairs in the dark, the open metal bannisters guiding us, until we reached your door. There, you paused for a moment, before clicking the light, keying the lock, and walking through. This wasn't the plan.

You busied yourself putting the shopping away while I watched and pondered your punishment. As a child I was always taught that the punishment should fit the crime, and I've always tried to use the same logic when you've broken a rule or not done as you were told.

You'd put the pegs in the drawer and were just dropping the wrapper in the bin when I stepped up behind you and brought my arm back round your neck – higher than earlier, more aggressive, dominant and controlling, your windpipe nestled in the crook of my elbow. You yelped as my hand came down on the back of your thin summer trousers with a satisfying slap.

"I told you," I whispered, "that if you were still clothed when you opened that door, you'd be punished. Did you forget?"

"No sir" came your reply. "I didn't forget. But I had hoped that you had."

This early in one of our rare weekends together, I might actually have let you off if you'd forgotten. I might have forgiven you if you'd told me that you too scared. But you'd gambled that I'd forgotten; tried to play me, as your master, for a fool. And you'd said so with a smile on your face that said that you thought you were being clever.

I grabbed your top and pulled it up, switching to a simple hand on your neck as I pulled it over your head. My hands, large as they are, controlling you without restricting your breathing, a gentle shift in pressure directing what little movements I wanted from you.

I turned you to face me, and had you step backwards until you were pinned against the kitchen counter. I kissed you gently while my free hand unclasped your bra. I stepped back gain and watched your breasts relax as the lacy material fell to the floor.

Your trousers soon followed, and you stepped out of them clumsily, your heels resisting against the fabric.

I kissed you briefly on the lips.

"Are you going to behave?"

You nodded, and I removed my hand from your throat. I picked up your trousers and removed the thin strip of linen that posed as a belt. I turned you around and tied your wrists behind your back before reaching past you for the sharpest knife in the rack.

I love this moment. It must have cost me a fortune in shopping trips over the years, but I so love that gasp you give as I slide the flat of the knife down your hip and under the fabric of your underwear. A gentle pull and the fabric slices in two. A repeat on the other side, and your last item of clothing is laying in tatters on the floor. I'd not bound your ankles, so there was no need for it, but it's a moment I love none the less.

I turned you so you were facing me again. You were excited but I could tell that you were also a little scared. You could see that I had a plan.

I opened the drawer and removed two of the clothes pegs. Your eyes went wide and you gasped as the first attached itself to your left nipple. I muttered something under my breath, and flicked the peg, watching you bite at your lip as the peg waved back and forth. You knew better than to say anything now and braced yourself as the second peg gripped onto your right nipple.

I remember noticing that your pegs were the same colour as your shoes and wondering idly if that made it an outfit.

Naked but for your heels and the scrap of fabric round your wrists, I looked you up and down eagerly. I'll never tired of the sight of your body – especially if it's shivering slightly with excitement and nervousness.

I placed my hand across your mouth and asked you if you were going to do as you were told. You nodded gently and uttered a muffled "yes master" against my hand. "In that case, my pet, I don't want to hear a word from your lips until I give you permission. Do you understand?" You nodded again, this time in silence.

Slowly, I traced my hand long your jaw and down your neck, across your collar bone and under your right breast before trailing my fingertips across your belly towards your crotch. I felt the momentary pause in your breathing as you anticipated my touch between your legs, but I stopped short, using my thumb and forefinger to grasp a hold of the longest of your neatly trimmed pubic hairs. With a gentle tug, I urged you to follow me as I walked across the kitchen and over to the front door.

With a click, the door opened, and I dragged you out onto the cool, dark landing, barely six feet square. I twisted you around and pushed you towards the guard rail, pinned you to it so the hand rail pushed into your stomach and your naked buttocks pushed back into my crotch. I brought my left hand back up under your chin, forcing your head up.

"All you had to do was strip for me out here, my pet. You'd have been naked in the darkness for seconds. Instead, you disobeyed me. Pets that disobey their masters need to be punished, don't they?" You nodded, warily as my right hand snaked past your hip and rested on your pubic mound. "Instead of spending seconds out here, you're going to stay out here until you come for me. I don't care who sees you or how long it takes. You're going to do as you are fucking well told for once."

I leant into you, forcing your torso out over the railing so your breasts hung out over the entrance lobby 2 floors below, and pushed my right hand roughly towards your clit.

You groaned as I first rubbed against the nub of your clit, and I squeezed gently at your throat to remind you to be quiet. I dipped my middle finger further, skirting the very edges of your pussy, soaking my finger and bringing the moisture back up to lubricate your clit.

Every woman is different, and every clit enjoys different treatment. I've spent enough time teasing yours to know exactly what gets you boiling. It's the combination of touches and squeezes, rubs and pinches, attention and restraint in just the right way that can make you cum exactly when I want you to. And I didn't want you to. Not just yet.

You were soon desperate to come, both from excitement and to end your embarrassment, but I teased you there, letting you get close, and then backing off in just the right way to pull you back ever so slightly. My left hand dropped to your chest and I stroked and cupped your soft flesh with my palm while my thumb gently teased at the peg.

As you became more and more desperate to come, you started pushing harder back into my groin. I decided your torment had lasted long enough, and I started building you up to your now well deserved orgasm. I led you towards it slowly and steadily, taking each little movement as a guide in how to treat or abuse your clitoris, never venturing further between your lips than absolutely necessary.

I felt you stiffen moments before your orgasm finally broke, and I grabbed you tight, holding you immobile as you ground yourself against my fingers and my crotch.

I would have ended your punishment then. I really would. I told you that you were stood there in public until you came, and you did. But as your orgasm rolled to an end like distant thunder, you grabbed at my cock with your tied hands.

I brought my hand up to your throat and pulled you close to me.

"You got your punishment and you got an orgasm, and you want more? I hadn't realised what an ungrateful little slut my pet was."

With my free hand, I worked my jeans down and freed my cock to press against your cool and slightly goose-bumped buttocks.

Pushing you forward again, so your body once again hung out over the lobby, I pressed my cock against your soaking lips and pushed through into your tight post orgasmic pussy. The feeling of your cold legs on mine and your hot lips round my shaft was all I could focus on as I thrusted back and forth inside you, pulling out as far as I could without risking slipping from your sexual embrace.

With my hands on your waist, pushing your torso down and pinning you to the bannister, I took full advantage of your excitement, fucking you at a speed and intensity that met my needs not yours. I have no idea if you came again, and frankly it wasn't important – you were my pet, my plaything. Your purpose was simple – to pleasure your master. And you did it so beautifully, your soft lips sucking at my shaft, your cunt muscles gripping me.

As I got close to my own orgasm, some small part of my brain remembered that I wasn't wearing a condom and, with a voice too loud for our supposedly sneaky session, I told you that if you didn't want to be filled with my cum, you should assume your position.

Instantly, you spun round and dropped to your knees on the rough doormat – knees together, back straight and chest out, your neck muscles taught as your head lifted to look me in the eyes. A near perfect gesture of submission. Gingerly, you opened your mouth wide and looked at me nervously. It's rare I force my cum in your mouth, but you know that you should be willing to accept it.

With barely a half dozen tugs on my shaft I came hard, the first blast hitting you in the neck, making you flinch in surprise. As the second and third landed on your chest I grabbed at the bannister rail for support. By the time my twitching finished, you were a beautiful mess, thick strands of cum on your neck, breasts, stomach and legs. I know a lot of women don't understand the appeal of that look, but my god you looked incredible.

I knelt down beside you and kissed you deeply, your mouth tasting slightly of salt and minerals from a stray spurt.

Gently, but insistently, I pushed you backwards until you were back up against the railings, your buttocks and shoulders on the cold metal uprights, your crossed hands in the small of your back. With my mouth still pressed against yours, I gently spread your legs and reached down to your soft folds. Slowly, I worked my fingers back and forth across your clit and down the sides of your labia, rubbing you gently, tenderly.

One hand in your hair, the other in your crotch, we kissed as the pressure slowly built inside you. No games, no mean streak, I worked your body, occasionally dipping inside you, a long finger teasing towards your g-spot before returning to massage your most sensitive spot.

As you got closer, I dropped my hand down a little to hold the back of your neck while I bent down and kissed your breasts, gently licking your nipples round the improvised clamps, and very gently nipping at the edges of your areolae.

Finally, I felt the start of your orgasmic spasms clutch at a finger deep inside you, and I brought my lips back to yours, clamping my mouth to yours. You could probably taste my cum on my lips as you probed my mouth, and your orgasm came up to the start of the rolling boil of involuntary spasms.

I worked you through your orgasm, restraining you and working your body to keep the feelings going for as long as I could. As your writhing started to subside, I brought both of my hands up to your shoulder height, and brought them down rapidly, crashing into the tips of the pegs, and sending them skittering across the floor. You tensed, my mouth gagging your yelp of pain, and you shuddered so hard as a second orgasm rolled in over the top of the first, merging, and overlapping with it.

I stood up and watched you shuddering in the half light.

"You've had your orgasm," I said. "It's time to go in."

I opened the door and walked through, knowing you were still knelt on the floor, your body betraying you, leaving you stranded in subspace while your master closed the door behind him.

I stood behind that door for nearly five minutes before I finally heard you successfully get to your feet and press your nose against the door bell. I opened it again and looked at you stood there, naked, messy, and blissed out. You looked me directly in the eyes, and with a hoarse voice begged me quietly "please fuck me... fuck me now... please?"

As I led you towards the shower, my mind full of the wonderful things I could do to your body, I completely forgot to ask you when and how the lights in the stairwell had come on...