You walk back to the bedroom, opening the door with your breath short in anticipation. The portal swings inward, revealing the room lit softly by candles and seeped in the deep aroma of incense and passion. The shadows play across the walls and dance guilty waltzes over your body, as you slowly close the door. The lock clamps firmly into place and half a breath later you are grabbed from behind by the hair. Your neck is pulled back, the sudden sensation drawing a gasp from your lips, but you catch yourself before any more noise escapes. You have learned your lessons well.
You are guided towards the bed, your bare feet almost gliding. Trepidation slithers across your spine as you glance down at what you were instructed to put on for the evening: a sheer and lace top that cuts low across your breasts and ties simply across your back, a garter belt of blood red with black lace, the matching garters tightly fish-netting across your legs, and a new pair of crotchless panties that are wedged uncomfortably in a g-string fashion. The silk sheets of the bed cascade under your skin as you are laid down. "Lay still," his voice rings clearly in the din of the night, and you nod mutely, knowing punishment for speaking out of place will end whatever pleasure you may be granted this eve.
"Lift your arms and spread your fucking legs, slut." To any other woman, your Master's voice is a porcelain mask, velvet and enticing. But you smile inside, knowing his true voice is reserved for you, and knowing the deeper affection held in barbed words. His instructions are followed quickly, and you feel his hands, calloused yet tender in their own way, pinning down your wrists.
Leather straps are wound over your wrists, secured firmly and latched with heavy steel clamps. You feel your Master's finger tips trail from the bindings down your arms, just grazing the tender skin of your breasts beneath your lingerie. Your nipples respond to the almost ghostly touch, and you see the faint amusement at their response in your Master's eyes. His fingertips continue their slow march down your body, playing over your ribs like a xylophone, towards your hips. His hand moves like a jellyfish, tangling and playing in the fishnets enwrapping your legs. You remain still, despite the tickle that plays behind your knee and you notice your Master's pride seem to swell in your ability to control yourself.
Your ankles are held and secured in identical shackles as the ones restraining your arms. You lay there quivering in anticipation, splayed to your Master's discerning eye. "You have been doing your exercises every night, haven't you?"
"Yes, Master." You keep your eyes focused away from his and your voice is sure but guarded.
"Very well done, little whore. You are learning, aren't you?"
"I am trying, Master." Your voice arrives more easily, your soul soaring at his praise.
"Well, then I suppose you do deserve something a little special tonight, then. What do you think about that, slut?"
Before you can reply, your Master's hand shoots to your slender throat, shocking the wind from your chest. His grip is strong and you can't draw breath from under his fingers. Your tongue limply rolls around your mouth as the vision begins to blur around the far edges of your eyes.
"You don't get to think, bitch. I will reward or punish you as I see fit." His grip releases lightly, your lungs filling with a blast of cool air. The incense, you notice, has taken a heavier place in the room, and you wonder when the other sticks were lit.
"Yes Master. I am sorry," you choke, his hand still vice like over your windpipe.
"Do not be sorry, slut. Be better." As always, his advice is double edged, but you take the lesson as it was meant, logging it in your mind for further review. The smirk playing across your Master's lips tells you clearly enough that he is not truly displeased with you, and his hand falls away from your neck. Your eyes close momentarily as your breathing returns to normal.
Suddenly there is a cold metal pressing between your tits, and you feel a definite sharp edge gliding over your skin. Your Master is at your side, a wicked dagger held in his hand, drawing it across your chest. Your eyes follow the tip of the knife, serrated and bitingly sharp, as it plunges under your shirt. With a momentary flick of his wrist your Master splits the thin fabric and your breasts spill out into the candle light, your nipples still standing firm and ready. Two swift slashes and the entire top is reduced to rags, and your entire chest is exposed and naked, lain free by your Master's expertise with a blade. Only then does he place the cruel steel off to the side of the bed, "For later..." He teases, with words, better than any man has for you with hands.
Your breasts are cupped together, his hands kneading and massaging them as if they are precious gifts, his thumbs rolling your still hard nipples over. The sensations run stark lightning up and down your spine, and you bite down on your lower lip while watching your Master work your erect nipples in both hands. He pinches down, pulling so that your breasts respond, lifting and surging pleasure throughout your tight body.
He holds one nipple high, releasing the other and slides a clamp around your areola. He replicates the procedure on your other tit, and suddenly your breasts are standing tall, like twin soldiers are true attention. A low moan rumbles through your throat, and slowly your entire body feels like a glass vase filling with ecstasy.
"There's my dirty little whore," his voice holds the promise of pleasure and pain, in unison. His hands slide down your stomach and over your belly button, towards your already moist sex. "Already wet for me? You are a filthy little slut, just the way I like you." You simply nod, as his fingers slowly begin drawing up and down the folds of your pussy. He works small circles around your clit, darting his fingers in and of your depths, building you but not filling you. His fingers begin working quickly, rubbing your clit harder and you feel your muscles beginning to tense, and your breath become hoarse and rich as you were quickly being led to your climax. And then, suddenly, he stops.
"I am not making it that easy for you..." He almost chuckles at the whimpering, soft breaths that show him exactly how close to the edge you were pushed. "Clean these." And instantly your mouth is filled with his fingers. You taste your own pussy on his hand as you roll your tongue over his fingers, sucking greedily, being very clear that there would be other parts of your Master's body you'd prefer to be sucking. You know your Master greatly enjoys you sucking his cock, but for some reason he has been denying you that task lately. As his fingers work in your mouth you realize that you haven't been given your Master's cock in over a week, and that thought reveals a void you hadn't known was present until that very moment. Perhaps you haven't been improving as much as you think you have. You begin sucking and licking with deeper fury, hoping to show your Master that you desire him in all ways, and to be given his glorious organ to pleasure once again.
You are pulled from your phallic revelry as your Master pulls his fingers from your wanting mouth. He smiles again, looking down at you, arms still firmly held in place by the cuffs, breasts giggling slightly with each shuddering breath. Your Master lifts a leather cat-o-nine from the table aside the bed and you recognize this particular toy instantly. With its thirteen foot long leather strands and dual purpose dildo-esque handle, this toy is your Master's favorite. He bought it specifically for you months ago, and does not use it for anyone else, even if other women are brought into your bedroom for his service. He saves it for you, and you have known both joy and torture at his hand with it. Tonight, you hope for the former...
The strands of leather spill lover your breasts and stomach, as if being poured from a golden cup, and your back arches to meet their soft touch. Your Master guides the toy up and down your stomach, letting the tails swim in the ivory sea of your flesh. With an imperceptible flick of his wrist, the stands jump up and slap down upon your breasts, stinging and leaving tell-tale red stripes of their crossing. You try to hold back, but a moan slides out of your mouth, and the toy slaps down again onto your stomach. Your breathing becomes heavy again as you feel the silken leather begin to trail past your bellybutton and mingle with your still wet and aching twat.
Another snap of your Master's wrist and the tails sting against your inner thigh, and once again your voice betrays your passion. Your Master's eyes blaze with lust as he spins the toy faster, the leather biting against your other thigh and then quickly your breasts. The whip becomes a blur as it nips and tangles across your body, leaving you writhing as the endorphins turning each sting into the sweet embrace of elation.
The toy is twisted around in your Master's hand, and suddenly there is a large blue rubber cock at your lips. You part your mouth and begin slurping and servicing the dildo like you had your Master's fingers, and you feel your Master massaging your clit again. As you move your mouth to take the toy deeper into your mouth, it is pulled away and slammed into your waiting pussy. Without even stopping to let you realize the size of the toy inside you, your Master begins pumping your sex with the rubber toy and puts his fingers into your mouth. You envelope his digits in your mouth, moaning unrepentantly as you are being ravaged by the large blue toy working in you as a plow works the field.
Again, just as quickly as they were provided, your Master's fingers are pulled from you, a thin line of your saliva running from your lips as they are withdrawn. You understand quickly that you were simply lubricating those fingers as you feel the tips of your Master's fingers rubbing small circles around your tight ass hole.
As he is using one hand to work the toy in and out of your pussy, your Master's other hand slowly slides two fingers knuckle deep into your ass. You feel every inch of the dildo and his fingers pumping in and out of you, slipping into an alternating rhythm in their penetrations, and suddenly all of your body is awash in rapture. You feel the waves of bliss crash over every inch of your body, spasms wracking your frame. Your voice seems rooted in your toes as you scream in delight, your pussy and ass both tightening over their respective sources of pleasure. Your eyes roll back in your head, back still arched as your Master slips his fingers out of you first, then the toy. He leans down, kissing your forehead softly, gently releasing you from your bindings. Your arms feel desensitized and almost alien as you hug him close, nuzzling against his strong chest, breathing in the clear scent of male. His voice is thick with his own anticipation as he whispers, "My turn, my love..."
He reveals his manhood and it catches your eyes: he has been pierced. A large metal hoop runs through the head of his engorged cock.
"Is that for me?" You ask.
"Yes. And it hurt like hell..." His voice holds the same love and wit as it always does, no break or weakness that you have seen in other lovers you've had.
You gaze deeply into your lover's eyes, smiling softly. "My poor man... let's see if we can make it feel better..."