Thank You, Master

Naked and facing downwards; my ankles held apart by the metal bar, bound to the bottom of the bed; my wrists strapped together and stretched up to the headboard. Body taunt. Waiting. Waiting.

I can hear you breathing, walking around the bed, contemplating what lies ahead. The sound keeps me alert, completely aware of where I am. I shut my eyes, my imagination running wild on what you might do, where you might begin.

"Shhhh", you say, as if you know the turmoil going on in my head. A hand strokes my hair, fingers trail down my spine, sending goosebumps across my flesh.

I hear the air move, then sound of leather meeting skin. The sting hits a moment later as my brain registers what's happened; that it's MY skin that's been struck! My arse cheek screams while I bite my lip.

Another strike with the paddle, this time across the other cheek. Again, I take it, I breathe through it, though I can feel every nerve ending fighting for attention.

Strike after strike hits my flesh, first one cheek then the other, over, and over, stronger, and stronger.

I won't cry out, won't make a sound. I know that's what you want, for me to take this, to learn from it. I try to concentrate on my breathing, but my teeth find my lip again. But biting down would spread the sensations, and I know you would not approve.

Then, I hear the air move again and brace for another. Nothing? But I still feel it; still register the pain. Or is the absence of the pain that I'm feeling? I can't hold back the mew that escapes from my lips. Disappointment? Desire? The sensation doesn't last long as you resume, and more strikes reach their mark.

Four more, then nothing. I can't help but raise my arse to the air, to meet what I know I want. Know I need.

Another couple, then I hear you move away. Have you finished with me? Did I not please you in taking what you gave?

My disappointment is short lived. Even as I contemplate begging you for attention, the air moves once more. This time the strike is severe, hard, burning! I can't help but cry out, even though I know it will mean more. I can feel my arse cheek tingle with the afterpain, soon to be joined by the other side. Again, I can't hold back the sound that escapes me.

I hear you move again, expect the sting of the crop across my skin, scream out the pain....but you DON'T strike. Why did I cry out? Why does my body behave as if you did?

Strike after strike, arse cheeks, thighs, then back up again. All the while, the constant burning and tingling of pain follows your movements. Strike overlays strike, leaving criss-crossing branded lines on my flesh. You torment it further by pressing into the welts that I know are there, forcing me to really feel it. I feel my moisture pooling beneath me, but it's not just the sweat that's bathing my skin.

Then a kiss, where it stings the most. So soft, so caring. I relax, breathing into that feeling. The warmth of your breath, like a caring salve on my tight and sore skin. I know you're inspecting your handiwork, but just that moment of calm, of softness, lulls me.

The kiss of the crop finds me again. I wasn't expecting it! I'd relaxed so much that I can't help but scream! I hear you chuckle. You know what I did, and another strike hits home, accompanied by my voice.

You're moving again. A sensation of cold wetness trickles down my arse, seeping between my cheeks and running down my crack. At the push of something at my ring, I raise my head. Realising what it is, I push back to the plug you're holding, eager to feel it inside.

"Not yet!" you say, moving it beyond my reach, forcing me to calm and relax again. Two more strikes to encourage my compliance.

More of the cold lube, and the plug returns. You playfully circle my ring before teasing it in, turning it as you ease it, so I can feel every movement. Slowly my body opens for you, and I can feel it slide to where you want it. I know I can take more, there's some not yet inside, but I'm good I don't try to help it into position this time.

You strike again! This time my body jolts and I feel the rest of the plug start to fill me. Each crack of the crop, each jolt, takes it further inside. Then the fullness is complete, sweat running down my back and joining the lube and my own desire.

The crop returns, striking down my legs to my ankles and back up. Hot, burning pain across my flesh, my muscles. Then across both arse cheeks, catching the end of the plug. The tremors radiating through me at each strike, sending electrical charges from the plug through my core. I can feel my heat rising, my desire laid bare by the pool of moisture soaking into the bed.

Again, and again, the crop hits its marks. I can still hear the noise in the air as you bring it to my flesh. Over and over. Then you stop before you make contact, but I can't help but react anyway! The sensations are there even when the pain isn't!

More and more, the crop falls onto my skin. I'm still here, still feeling everything, I still cry out! But I breathe through it, feel the sting but am not consumed by it. I'm here, but somewhere else.

I feel your hand dip to my slit. I'm so wet, and just touching me there makes me moan out loud. I can smell my juices as your fingers move to my mouth, and I open to receive what you feed me, and greedily suck at your fingers, my tongue teasing between them, flicking around your knuckles.

Again, your fingers stroke at the moistness at my pussy, and return to my mouth. I am eager to suck, to lick, to taste myself on your skin.

I feel your weight on the bed, as you straddle my arms to feed me more, and I open my mouth in expectation. But it's not your fingers that my tongue meets. My mouth quickly becomes full, and I struggle to breathe in my panic. I pull back, but you fist my hair to keep my head where you want it. I can feel your cock moving over my tongue, further and further into my mouth. You control my head expertly as you pull out just enough for me to catch my breath, encouraging me to breathe slowly through my nose.

I'm calmer as you move back inside, controlling my head while using my mouth as a pussy, my lips surrounding you, my tongue caressing you.

I feel the rhythm you set and move with you as you fuck my mouth. But then you're gone, and the emptiness I feel is overwhelming. I stretch forward to find your cock again and am startled as you slap my cheek with something hot, hard, and moist. You do it again, harder, to show me that you set the pace unless you tell me otherwise, then touch my lips with the end, to encourage me to open again for you.

Eagerly I take you inside, feeling your length with my lips, with the muscles of my mouth and throat. You tell me I may set my own pace, so I do, quickly falling into a rhythm that you approve of.

The crop falls again and again as I suck you, as my tongue and lips taste you. You tease the end of the plug with the crop, then matching my rhythm you push on it, fucking my arse with the plug, just as you're fucking my mouth.

I can feel my heat and tension rising, my breath increasing, with every push and every suck. You speed up as I do, knowing my hips are bucking, my body arching, as I'm frantically nearing my climax.

As I reach the pinnacle, I surrender to it. The scream escapes my throat past your cock. I'm still in the throes of orgasm when I feel the smack of the crop again, quickly, on both arse cheeks, over and over while shudders wrack my body, and my ring and pussy continue to spasm, until the pulsing subsides.

You lean forward but I don't understand the emptiness that I feel until I realise that you've removed the plug from my arse and your cock from my mouth. I shudder from the emotion and the aftershocks the orgasm has left me with, putting my head forward to the bed, exhausted but fulfilled, my tears flowing from a place of contentment.

You've left the bed, but I feel you return, raise my head, and lay a soft kiss on my lips. You stroke my hair as I lay my head down again. I watch you start to walk away. I'm grateful and thankful for your attention, and your instruction, and express it with three word that I hope brings gladness to you.

"Thank you, Master"