Priya Ch. 05

I'd been trying not to look at Priya for the last thirty minutes. She had entered my office right at the time I said I'd be done with work, but I was on a conference call regarding a tricky problem and I couldn't get off. She'd knelt the entire time, and her knees had to be sore.

I rotated in the chair and took in the sight of her. She was naked, with only a thin black leather collar around her neck. A silver O-ring dangled toward her full breasts, and on one side of the ring was the word "His." The other side said "bitch," her favorite endearment. We weren't into pet play, but the brutality of it appealed to her, and as a result, it appealed to me too. She was a woman who I didn't have to hold back with.

She cradled a plastic cane, thirty inches long and made of flexible acrylic, in her hands. It was nastier than the rattan ones I had, because it didn't give as much when it struck. I was glad she'd chosen that one, partly because I wasn't sure how the rattan would hold up to the wetness. She'd held the cane in her teeth as long as she could, and it was still wet with drool.

She looked at me with her big brown eyes. "I peeked in before, and you looked like you were having a frustrating day, Master. I thought perhaps you'd like to take it out on me."

"There are other people I'd rather take it out on."

Priya smirked just slightly. "You know, Master, you are free to play with whoever you like. Should I call around for you?" I knew that she knew that I meant people at work, and not play partners. When I'd first started playing with Priya it was all business, and she rarely showed me her sense of humor. That had changed. A lot had changed. She wore my collar now. I took the cane.

She put her hands behind her head and arched her back, presenting her breasts as a target. I wouldn't even have to get up out of the chair.

"Go downstairs and wait, bitch," I told her.

She grinned. I'd never stop being amazed at the way she responded to that word. She hopped up and headed away, her ass swaying teasingly. She knew how to walk, and she knew how to push my buttons.

That was okay, I knew how to push hers, too.

I listened to her footsteps until I was sure she was down there, waiting. She'd already been patient, and I didn't want her to wait much longer. Besides, at some point I'd be hungry. If we were going to play, we needed to get on with it. First, though, I ordered delivery online. Chinese. I never ordered Indian anymore because I had home cooking for that. The food would take forty-five minutes. Plenty of time.

I walked downstairs. Priya was standing, leaning against the X-frame in the corner of the living room. It folded up and stored away in case we had guests, but we hadn't had non-kinky guests over since she'd moved in. If we ever did, I supposed I'd have to let Priya wear clothes.

"You crave pain, bitch?" I asked.

"I crave the feeling of being owned, Master. Whatever you want to do to me. Would you rather I sucked your cock? I'd gag on it for you. You could --"

I slapped her face to shut her up. Hard enough for her to feel, but carefully—just the tips of my fingers, on the soft part of the cheek. "I know my options." I'd been a kinkster for two decades, but I swear she was more perverted than me.

"Mmm," she said, as if I just whispered something sweet into her ear. She wriggled against the frame.

"BDSM 101," I said. "Start with a warmup."

"Only if you want to," she said.

"Oh, I didn't mean I was going to give you one. I just wanted to tell you what good practice I was going to ignore. Tits out."

She arched her back. I watched her face. Saucy one moment. Then bracing for what I was about to do. Then just breathing heavily as the anticipation lengthened. She couldn't brace forever.

I planted a sharp stinging line of pain across her chest. She gasped. A thin purple double line appeared on one breast, and then skipped her cleavage to continue on the other, ending in her nipple.

"Sure you can handle it, bitch?"

"Don't give me a choice, Master," she replied.

I tapped her breasts lightly with the cane several times. I wasn't being nice, not really. It was a little too late to claim that anything going on was nice. I just knew that anyone could take more if they were a little warmed up, and besides, each tap irritated the line I'd already placed on her tits. Priya had dark brown skin, and I needed to get a deep shade of purple to really mark her. The last marks I'd given her had faded. I was okay with that, but I'd watched how she looked in the mirror at them, eagerly searching to make sure they were still there, disappointed when she couldn't make them out anymore.

I loved Priya, and I wanted her to have the things she wanted. I'm a giver. Really, I am. I've just always had to find the right woman to appreciate my kind of gifts.

"Oh!" she yelled, at the first harder blow. She'd fallen for the rhythm of my tapping, and tranced out to it.

I worked her over good, focusing on the underside of her breasts, just below the nipples. Hitting the same damn spot made it hurt more, but I also wanted to leave the tops unmarked so they'd be presentable the next time we went out. I liked having them presented. She knew my preferences, and didn't have very many tops that fully covered anymore. By the time I finished with her tits, she was moaning, a tear running down her face, and the undersides were full of angry purple lines.

"Like it?" I asked.

"You know I do. You know it turns me on."

"Gonna cry about it?"

She bit her lip, wanting to deny it, but the tear kept sliding down and I knew she could feel it. It had to be a delicate sensation compared to what I'd done. A tickle.

"Turn around. It's not half what I'm going to do to your ass."

She obeyed. The midpoint on the frame came right about to her mid section. Her bosom fit perfectly in between the two planks of the cross as they spread out, when she was wearing heels. Without heels, the planks pinched her breasts. I didn't have boobs, and I didn't have the bruises she had, but I thought I could imagine what that felt like.

I sometimes tell people I'm a vicarious masochist. I enjoy feeling the imagined pain of my bottoms. Then again, maybe I'm just a sadist. "I was thinking I'd have you kneel at my feet when we eat tonight, but I think you're going to end up sitting in a chair, instead."

"Uh-oh."

"Hmm?"

"That means you're going to make sitting in a chair hurt, aren't you?"

"That's the lovely thing about our relationship. We know each other so well." I started gentle, warming her up. I figured the sensation in her breasts was probably more intense than anything I was doing. I ramped up until the cane had her attention again.

"Gonna cry?" I asked her again.

"I don't know," she said.

"Let's play a game. Try not to, and I won't stop until you do. Might not stop immediately then, either."

"Yes, Master. I'm yours to use."

I increased the force I was using and changed the rhythm. Soft-soft-hard, fooling her into thinking she could anticipate. Then I would fuck with the sequence, skipping a stroke or changing the intensity. I'd lull her back with the pattern and then screw with it, time after time. When I skipped a stroke I'd move to take a quick look at her face, which was turned slightly to my right so I could see a bit more than a profile. She was biting her lip, trying to hold back tears.

"You're such a good girl," I said. "Very little instinct for self-preservation, but I like that in a woman."

"Thank you, Master." She smiled.

Nothing like a compliment to set a girl up for a nasty stroke. The smile turned into a scream. My two favorite things, a beautiful naked woman and a high soprano voice. I kept it up. I made her sing. It probably wouldn't sound musical to most people. The tears poured down her face, as she sobbed between yelps. Her ass turned a pretty shade of purple, and then a darker one.

Twenty-five minutes left. Plenty of time.

"Should I bathe my cock in your tears, or use lube when I take your ass?" I asked.

"Up to you, Master," she whimpered.

"Go get the lube. Crawl."

She got down on her knees and crawled to the box where we keep those things on a bookshelf. The box was tidy, in case there was company. They didn't have to know it had butt plugs, cuffs, and lube. The time she spent crawling gave her a bit of a break, too. Her tits didn't quite brush against the ground. I imagined if I made her slither on the ground like a snake it would be excruciating.

I made a note. Maybe I'd do that to her next time.

I took the lube from her as she held it up. "Lean over the table, bitch," I told her. She got to her feet and assumed the position, propping herself up on her elbows so her breasts barely touched the red and gold tablecloth. Her tears had mostly stopped flowing. She had her head turned so she couldn't see me, so I retrieved something from the box before advancing on her.

I teased the opening with a well lubed finger, then slid it inside her. I added a second a minute later and spread the lube all over. I figured she could use the break, so I took my time.

"Beg me," I told her.

"Please fuck my ass, Master."

"I'm not sure you really want it."

"Master, please? I want my ass fucked by you so much. I want you to use me for your pleasure. I want you to cum. I want to be your fucktoy. Please, Master?"

Then I slid the butt plug in. "You'll be my fuck toy, alright." I put my cock against her pussy and pushed in. She was tight, but so, so wet. What we did before was foreplay to her. When we were first playing together, she didn't let me fuck her pussy, but had made her mouth and ass available. She had been separated from her husband, and I had thought she had some idea of being faithful. It turned out she just wanted to make sure our fucking was about my pleasure, and not hers—and then she'd go home and masturbate thinking about what we'd done.

I started slow, and then I started fucking her hard. My hipbones slammed against her bruises. I knew what turned her on, and I wanted to give it to her. I pulled her elbows away from the desk so her bruised tits could feel the hard table, because I'm considerate that way. She yelped. A minute later I exacted a different kind of scream, as her body shook and her pussy clamped around my cock in quick spasms.

Like I said, I know what turns her on.

I kept fucking her until I was near the edge. "So close," I told her. I slowed down, pressing against her with each careful stroke, compressing her ass and moving her chest against the table.

"Mmm," she said. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed. The tears were no more, just a look of blissful contentment, strung out on endorphins mixed with love.

I edged myself for a while watching her. I glanced at the clock.

"On your knees, bitch." I pulled out.

She slid off the table and turned to face her. She opened her mouth. "Blowjob, Master?"

"Jerk me off," I told her.

She wrapped her hand around me and started stroking, gazing up at me with those adoring brown eyes. They were wet and shiny now from all the crying, and her mascara had run. She knew to keep her mouth open and her tongue out, like a good bitch. Her face was a beautiful mess.

Then I came, and made it messier. The first rope landed in her mouth, the second on her eyelid, the third on her cheek and chin. A drop dribbled from there to her breasts. She kept stroking until I couldn't give her anymore, and then licked my cock head to get the last bead of cum.

"Thank you, Master."

I should have been thanking her, but I knew she didn't want that. That wasn't how our relationship worked. "You're welcome," I said, pulling my pants up. "Delivery will be here in five to ten. Put on your robe and make sure your bruises are covered and your cleavage is showing."

"Should I wash my face or leave it like this?" she asked.

"Wash your hands and face, bitch," I told her, a plan hatching in my head. Next time I ordered take out, I'd ask a friend to deliver it. Their reward? Seeing Priya greet them at the door without a stitch on. I was sure I could find someone to make that deal, and I was also sure that Priya would go through with it, even without knowing who was doing the delivery. I turned and walked toward the stairs. It was theater, although I did want to take a quick shower.

When I got back down, Priya had the food on the table, and was sitting in a chair.

"My butt really hurts, Master. I thought you'd be pleased to know that. Sitting is quite painful."

I smiled. "I love you."

It had taken a long time for her to let me say those words, and I still didn't say it casually.

"I love you, too, Master," she said.

General Tso's Chicken never tasted better.