New pics posted...enjoy!

It probably says something about both of our personalities that, as a reward for hard work, I gave my sub a 2-page story about her being tied, abused and fisted by Brienne of Tarth :)

(Part 3. Hm, I post these a bit too slowly - that's what I get for scribbling them out, stream-of-consciousness style, right after we finish and leaving them to be edited later. In the last few weeks we've had some fun rope play I can post about next time instead...)

I instructed her to lie down on her back, spread her legs and grasp her ankles. The nipple suckers bounced about as she moved, eliciting an enjoyable little series of gasps and yelps. Her panties were still on, over the nub of her small buttplug and were now soaked by her arousal. I pulled them aside and drew out the plug in one motion, then lubed the larger plug and positioned it against her ass.

“Well, slut, you’ll need to beg for it.”

She mewled a bit, pulling her legs open and wriggled around. “…Please, sir.”

“Please..what, little cunt?”

“Please…mhmm…please fill my whore ass, sir”

I smiled. I told her that I’d grant her request, but there would be a little price to pay. Of course, by this time she was overheating and barely even hesitated before agreeing (lust completely overcoming any fear, what a wondrous thing!). With my other hand I brought out our short bamboo cane and waggled it around in the air so that she could see it even from her vantage point on the floor. A chuckle from me. A worried little squeak from her.

Slowly, I inserted the larger plug as she moaned. I told her what a whore she was for having such thoroughly soaked panties, for being laid out on the floor naked and pink from beatings and use. She agreed breathlessly as I started to lightly cane her thighs.

“Don’t let go of those ankles.”

She nodded and stared wide eyes up at the ceiling as the cane came down a few more times. The strokes got harder but she took them beautifully. I thought briefly about caning her cute, quivering belly. But of course, dear reader, it’s more fun to have her lock in her own punishment. I leaned over her, brought the cane up to her lips.

“Kiss it”

She did.

“Lick it.”

She did, pink little sweetness running up and down the length of the thin bamboo.

“I suppose I could fuck you now, couldn’t I?”

 In response the begging started in earnest. A fusillade of please, sirs and a series of inarticulate little animal desire noises. It was unbearably cute and, then, deliciously perverse as she began to beg to be fucked.

“Yes sir, please fuck your piece of meat.”

“Is that what you think you need, cunt?” I asked, trailing the cane down her chest to her stomach. “If I do, we’ll be caning your tummy next…”

“Yes sir. Go ahead and use me any way you want. Fuck this meat, please…”

That’ll do, I thought. I slid off the couch, positioned myself between her legs and yanked her dripping panties to the side and away from her cunt. The fabric pushed on her buttplug, and I slid my cock into her almost immediately. The simultaneous stimulation of her ass and cunt made her body arch, sweat now sticking her bangs to her forehead and giving her breasts a delicious sheen. Slave girl sweat, the kind of slave girl sweat won by a thorough beating and use…well, what more needs be said? I ordered her to let go of her ankles, to stretch her hands above her head. My tongue started at her breast and dragged to her underarm, tasting her all the way as I fucked her, drinking her in.   

(Part 2 of our earlier play session)

She began to undo my belt, pouting at her denied orgasm. Orgasm denial really brings out the brat in my slave – I suppose she just has a selfish pussy! I pulled my belt out of the loops, passing it briefly hand to hand, eyes locked on hers as she knelt in front of me. Perhaps she thought she was about to get belt-whipped. I drank in her teary-eyed look of desire mixed with nervous anticipation. It tasted absolutely *delicious*, as I’m sure some of you dear readers can imagine.

Still, in the end I opted to see how fast she could forget her denied orgasm and refocus herself on serving me; I slouched back on the couch and reached for my water as I ordered her to suck cock. Even the light choking I had given her had gotten me very hard, and she immediately fell to work on my dick. She made little animalistic noises as her speed increased, sucking me with a kind of girlish enthusiasm.

“Now the balls, slave.”

She buried her face deep in my crotch, dragging her tongue along my sack and lapping along my inner thigh like an obedient little pup.

“See my slut, it’s not about you cumming. It’s about what you were meant to do – serve men. Right?”

Her muffled “yes, sir” was almost unintelligible from her position under my balls. I could see her begin to bounce up and down a bit, moving the plug in her ass. It made me smile, seeing her steal a bit of pleasure for her own ass. I do love having that bit of sneaky brat in my girl. I let her show me her devotion for a while, sipping my water and watching her face turn pink from exertion, her spit slopping all over her own face and my cock. Her damp bangs stuck to her forehead. I had to take some time to focus on her hands – lovely pinked fingertips clutching my thighs, looking for purchase on the smooth denim of my jeans so that she could move her head faster. It was all just beautiful.

“You’re making a mess, cunt.”

“I’m sorry, sir”.  She blinked, looking up at me as wiped her drooling chin and then kissed her, slowly at first. My hands found her breasts and tapped the nipple suckers as our tongues entwined. She gasped into my mouth as her super-sensitized nipples reacted.

I stood up and instructed her to place her hands in her lap. My hands gently pushed her hair out of her face, stroking her head and telling her what a good girl she was being. We were both smiling as I gripped either side of her head, lovingly, firmly as I pushed my cock back into her mouth. My subsequent commands made it quite clear: don’t move, keep that throat open, keep those hands down. J has a very, very small throat and it's sometimes a struggle for her to be able to suck cock deeply. She’s been improving by leaps and bounds since I began training her in this way, getting her to relax her jaw completely, let go and just let her face be properly used (Not bad for a girlie who used to wind up gagging every morning just from the toothbrush hitting the back of her throat!).

I fucked her mouth slowly, being careful to make sure she could breathe properly between thrusts. Every once in a while I would direct her to look up so that I could stare into her eyes as I thrust in. After a while she started wriggling her pink-spanked bottom again, obviously trying to wring more sensation out of her buttplug.

“Kinda naughty, little slut. Lay down. It’s time to swap that plug out for something larger…”

We started playing today as I sat on the couch to read after dinner, finishing my wine and wondering if I should pour myself a bit more. J came and lay across my lap, and I began to massage her with one hand while still holding my book with the other. After a while she started squirming and sighing in anticipation.  I eventually relented, leaned over and told her that she needed to go back to the bedroom, strip down, put on only panties and stockings, and bring me her collar. While she was gone I finished the wine (decent cab sauv) and went back to the book (Doubt: A History by Jennifer Michael Hecht, recommended!).

After a minute she was back, nice and fast, and wearing just white/black striped thigh-highs and a pair of red panties. She carried her collar. I realized I forgot something essential: if I was going to use her properly, that meant putting her on the floor, and that meant at least some minimal attention to her cute little knees – so I sent her back again to bring a soft blanket. I spread it out on the floor in front of my feet and ordered her to kneel, facing me. She did and I slowly wrapped her collar around her neck while locking eyes with her. The collar locked. I asked her if she knew what it means when she wears it. She answered immediately: “It means I’m a whore.”

Fair enough, I thought. I sent her to get me some ice water, considered counting the seconds it took and translating them into cane strokes for her breasts but reconsidered. As soon as she was back with the water, I had her resume her kneeling position, this time with her back to me but between my knees. The water was perfect and delicious. I took my time drinking, watching her. Then I leaned forward, reaching over her shoulders and began to squeeze her tits. She gasped as I roughly pulled her nipples, alternating sides. I made her try to concentrate on telling me what she was (a slut, a use-whore, property) as I continued abusing her tits. Once in a while I would reach down, gently, and run my fingers over her now-soaked panties. Soon I moved on to slapping her breasts, ordering her to keep her body upright and head up as I beat them. I instructed her to count each hit, then to count and say thank you after every third. She kept up for a bit, but eventually the counting mistakes and the slaps added up and the tears came. I cradled her head in my lap for a bit and let her come back to herself, stroking her hair. When she was ready I took her through a last set of nice, sharp smacks to the underside of each breast.    

She took them beautifully and thanked me properly for each one. I was proud of her.

I sent her off on another run to the bedroom, this time to fetch some toys. The earlier tears had transformed into giggles as she came back with a full armload. Judging by how wet her pussy was, I figured it was time to distract her by filling her ass. I had her place her face on the floor, ass in the air and inserted the smallest of our “anal pacifiers.” Rather than waste the pretty and humiliating pose she was now stuck in, I began spanking her. Each cheek got worked with increasing firmness until I could tell she was close to the edge again. I didn’t want to have to take a crying break just yet (as much as I adore the sight of tears on my pretty slave’s face), so I dialed it back at the last moment. Instead, I had her kneel again so I could apply nipple suckers to each breast – she took them wonderfully, no mean feat after the earlier tenderizing.

Now with the plug jammed up her ass and the nipple suckers on each breast I made her beg me for increasingly degrading treatment. She begged for me to fuck her, to hurt her. Instead, I brought out our (newly bought!) Hitachi and instructed her to lean forward and open her thighs. My hand gripped her throat. The wand snaked down toward her cunt. I began to choke her just as the Hitachi began to purr. Now, the Hitachi is stunningly powerful, and the reaction was immediate, but I ordered her in no uncertain terms not to cum. She complied, desperate with lust and trembling from the stimulation. I took some time to watch her closely. A bit of sweat dampened her temples, her eyes half closed and face rapidly turning pink as my grip on her neck tightened. The beatings and the mental demands made on her had heated her up; I could feel her warmth and smell the sweet scent of girl musk rising up off of her as she bucked in pleasure. I kissed her deeply. It shouldn’t surprise you, dear reader, that I flicked the Hitachi off well before she could climax. I can be mean like that.

“I’m not even close to done with you, cunt. Loosen my belt…”