tagBDSMProperty

Property

byGvilleWriterGuy©

Author's note. Since this story is focused on a fantasy I have about a real woman, I will simply refer to her as M. One day, when I have her permission (and her over my knee, efg), I will repost it using her name. Until then, I must respect her privacy; but yet I cannot bring myself to use a phony name for her.

She is over my knee, naked save her collar. I am still in my work clothes, shoes, tie and all. I haven't had time to shower yet. My pattern was disrupted when I came home and found my sub breaking the rules.

M, my pet, gets off work thirty minutes before I do. We have established that she has plenty of time to come home, shower, start dinner, and be waiting for me, naked but for her collar, on her knees inside the front door. Sometimes I need to be sucked off when I first walk in the door, other times I just pat her on the head and send her into the kitchen. Once in a while I'll have her bathe me, or strip me and give me a tongue bath (only in those instances when I'm feeling particularly demanding and evil).


But when I came home she was on the phone with her friend.

When I entered she looked at me, her eyes wide. She was sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. Her legs were smooth and pale white, very nice. Her body was supple and freshly scrubbed her pubic area cleanly shaven. She had her shoulder length hair back in a loose ponytail on the back of her head. As per my household rules, she wore no makeup. I allowed her to paint her nails every other day, a new color on her fingers and toes (they always had to match), but she only wore makeup when I instructed her to do so.

"I've got to go, Cindy," M said quietly. "Ok, I'll call you later. Bye."

None of M's friends knew how she liked her sex life. She kept it a secret that she needed to be used, to be owned and treated like property. On some level it embarrassed her, but on another level she needed it, couldn't be satisfied without it.

She hung up and sunk to the floor, sunk to her knees, and her eyes sunk to my feet. Her shoulders trembled a little, as she slid her hands behind her back and locked her fingers.

"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered. "I was waiting for you, and the phone just rang. I must have lost track of…"

I grabbed her by the ponytail and pushed her face to my shoes. She kissed them and pleaded for mercy.

It was bullshit. But the begging was part of the fun. Well, most of the fun if I'm being perfectly candid.

"Over here, bitch. NOW!" I barked, and walked away. She crawled after me, dogging my heels, still whining. "And shut your slutty mouth."

"Yes, sir," she murmured. I have always instructed her to call me 'sir' instead of 'master'. I used to rely on 'master' for my pets until I acquired a black subby. Call my politically correct, but it made me a little uncomfortable to have her call me 'master', especially when I was whipping her, so from then I switched to 'sir' and never looked back. I find there is a stigma of distance and respect that is instilled in our usage of the word.

I pulled my belt out of the loops and sat on the loveseat. I patted my lap, as if summoning my dog. Looking sheepish, M crawled up onto my lap and thrust her ass up into the air.

I whipped her ass until it was glowing and red. She made whimpering noises deep in her throat; my favorite. I set the belt down and used my hand, pausing to admire my red handprint in between strokes. Finally, after a dozen sharp slaps, I felt her chest start to heave. She was reaching her limit.

I pulled her thighs apart and stuck my finger into her twat. She was gooey, oozing enough juice to drown the little man in the boat. I pinched her thigh, twisted it, and pulled her legs farther apart. She had to rest on her hand to keep her balance, as I pulled one leg off the floor to leave her sopping pussy wide open and exposed.

Then I smacked it. She yelped. I smacked it again.

"Who do you belong to?" I asked quietly.

"You, sir. I belong to you."

"You are my property."

"I…" her breath hitched, "I am your property. Body and soul, yours."

I grabbed the knot of her hair and jerked her head back.

"Say it again."

"I am your property, sir."

I let her head go, and traced her red ass. I wrote words on it with the tip of my finger.

"Maybe this weekend I'll finally take you in and have some work done. Would you like that, pet?" I teased her. It was a constant threat, something I held over her head. "I'll take you to the tattoo parlor and we'll get 'PROPERTY OF N' (full name withheld) inked across your ass. I still need to think of something for the other ass cheek, but we'll wait another month for that."

She moaned. I pushed her off my lap. She landed in a heap, and quickly scrambled back into proper position. I scratched her head lovingly.

"Or maybe…" I touched her lips, and she opened her mouth like a good pet. I pinched her tongue and pulled it out. "Maybe its finally time for you to get your tongue pierced. I think you owe that to me, at least."

Her eyes were wet; with fear and excitement. They always went hand in hand with my sweet M. "Yes, sir," she half cried. "Whatever you desire."

"That's right, M," I said sweetly. I grabbed her chin and raised her eyes to meet mine. Such pretty eyes, especially when wet with tears. "Whatever I desire, is what you will do. And tonight, as part of your punishment, you don't get to come."

Her eyes got even sadder.

"This is fair punishment, is it not?"

"I'm so sorry, sir," she lowered her head again, and kissed my shoes. "Please don't do that. I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything, sir!" she cried.

Oh, what a lovely dance it is.

"You'll suck my ass, tongue fuck my hole?"

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be my urinal?"

She paused, scared. We'd never actually gone that far before. "Yes, sir," she said finally.

"Interesting. Well, pet, if you do as told and are a very good girl maybe I'll let you come later."

Relief washed over her flushed features. Her eyes glittered.

"Now undress me."

She untied my shoes with her mouth, kissed my sweaty feet when they were bare. She used her hands to undress me fully, and then put them behind her back.

"Now do what you do best, slut."

She opened her mouth and sucked my cockhead between her full, warm lips.

"Wait," I pushed her forehead away. "Go and get your lipstick. The red."

She crawled into the bedroom, and came back a moment later with a tube of red in her mouth. I took it from her, and she got back on her knees.

"What is it you do best, slut?"

"Suck your cock, sir."

"What are you, M?"

"I'm your cock sucking whore, sir."

"Good girl," I cooed. I held her chin steady, and thickly applied the red lipstick. I smeared it, coated it generously. "Now get to work."

I held her hair loosely as she began to lick and suck. I got hard almost instantly, and pulled roughly on her hair to jam my cock down her throat. She gagged, but quickly recovered. Pulling out, she let loose a thick wad of bubbly saliva that ran down the side of my dick. I face-fucked her, jerking on her hair, for a few minutes, then let go of her hair and let her work. She was good. Damn good. Maybe the best cocksucker I'd ever had. She was worth keeping around, I had long since decided. Maybe one day I would tell her as such.

As she sucked, I let my mind drift to the evening to come. She had broken the rules, and unfortunately for her I was feeling a certain devilish ingenuity coming over me. I thought about all the things I would make her do for me: fuck her ass with a dildo as I watched; writing on her with lipstick and maybe even black marker (laying out designs for future brandings, perhaps); her food and water coming out of a dish on the kitchen floor at my feet; having her play end table as I set an ashtray and a cold beer on her back, and leaving her as such as I watched television; a round or two with the riding crop; and a long session with her tonguing my asshole.

As for her rimjobs, I find them pleasant feeling, but not as spectacular as watching her work. She despises doing it. I keep myself clean, of course, but she finds it the most degrading thing of all. Sometimes she will cry as she does it, and this always pleases me to no end.

My mind came back to the present, as M throated my cock time and again, over and over, until I felt the end coming. So did she; and she sunk lower on her knees, tilted her head and opened her mouth wide so I could watch myself spurt deep into her mouth. The jizz pooled up under her tongue and around her bottom teeth. She looked at me pleadingly. I let her look for a few moments.

"You may swallow," I nodded to her, and she did.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured, feeling sexy and looking it, as well.

"Now you've had your dinner, it's time for mine. Go and fetch it."

She hopped to her feet and busied herself in the kitchen. I relaxed for a few minutes, watching her pink ass sway as she prepared my food, and then got up to go into the shower.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

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