BDSM
2007-10-12
Topic: The Magazine Punishment Sir and I often talked about what we could do to make my submission more complete. I try very hard to be a good sub: allowing Sir to use my body in any way He desires; doing whatever he instructs, regardless of my own wants; offering up my pain and humiliation. But, I know that I am sometimes headstrong. I sometimes fight back, cry and beg. So, I know that my training must continue.
I knew when I got home from work that Sir had planned to give me a lesson. My collar was hanging on the nail by the door. It's a dark leather dog collar that Sir modified to fit me. It's so heavy and tight, I sometimes can't bear to have it on. But when I slipped it on that afternoon, I felt my cunt twitch.
The door was unlocked, and I knew that Sir was in the house somewhere. But I couldn't look for him. The collar told me what my job was. And I was determined to be worthy of whatever activity Sir had planned.
I stripped out of my work clothes and folded them neatly on the chair by the door. I washed the dishes and made a tall glass of iced tea.
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While I worked, I wondered what was to come. . . and my pussy responded wetly.
When we bought our house, the decision hinged on the basement. It's broad and well-lit with a drain in one corner and no windows. It's soundproof. Over time, Sir has transformed it into a chamber of sex and pain. Some areas are divided from the main room, providing mini-environments for play. In the main area, there is a bed with a simple fitted sheet and two pillows, flanked by small tables.
The glass of tea sat on one of the tables, and I knelt at the foot of the bed. I staid there for so long that I lost track of time. Had it been ten minutes or two hours? It didn't matter. When I heard the sound of Sir's boots on the stairs, I knew that the time had been worth it.
I could smell his boots, but I didn't dare raise my eyes.
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I knelt patiently and listened as he stripped, folding his clothes onto a dresser. His hand came into my field of vision, the clasp of the leash between his fingers. It clicked into place.
“You'll never guess what I found,” he said rhetorically. “Here I am, minding my own business, cleaning up the bedroom. And I flip over a pillow, and find this!”
He shoved a dirty magazine under my nose. The woman on the cover had her legs spread wide and a cock in each hand.
“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice low.
“No. ” It was true. I'd never seen the magazine before, let alone had it under my pillow.
Sir jerked on the leash, bringing me forward a few feet. I yelped as he wrapped one arm around my waist and sat my upper torso on a large piece of positioning foam. My ass jutted into the room.
“What did you say?” It was almost a growl.
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“No, Sir,” I whispered, remembering my manners. “The magazine isn't mine. ”
His bare hand came down hard on my ass, making me jump and scream. More smacks followed. He moved his hand around so that my entire ass was red and hot. When I thought I'd squirm off the foam, he stopped. His fingers twisted in my red hair. Once again, the magazine slapped down beneath my nose. It was opened to a picture of a woman shoving a dildo into her cunt.
“Is this yours?”
“No, Sir. I'm sorry -”
He jerked on the leash again, brought me to my feet. The shackles on the wall, the ones that I had excitedly pointed to in the catalog, closed on my wrists. He mashed my face into the lightly padded wall.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, Sir!”
The cane hit hard across my back. I knew it had left a perfect pink stripe.
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Sir is good with the cane. He continued to hit me across the back, shoulders, and ass, speaking between strikes.
“Do you expect me to believe. . . that this filth isn't yours?.
. . You fucking slut. . . Can't you keep your hands. . . off your pussy.
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. . for one day?. . . ”
“I'm sorry, Sir,” I choked, tears brimming in my clear blue eyes.
His fingers found my cunt, played in my juices.
“Is this magazine yours?” he asked.
I swallowed.
“Yes. ”
Sir unlocked the shackles and let me crumple on the floor. He gave me only a moment to catch my breath, then tugged me onto the bed by the leash.
“Where did you get it?” he asked, positioning me on my hands and knees.
“The bookstore on the corner,” I said, hoping that it was the right answer.
I knew that it wasn't when I felt the sting of a clothespin on my left nipple.
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“I called the bookstore. They don't carry this magazine. Where did you get it?”
Another pin closed on my right nipple. My cunt spasmed, began to drip down my leg. I was panting hard. My thoughts were a blur.
When I didn't answer, Sir pulled my hair again, lifting my eyes to meet his.
“Did you get it from another slut?”
I nodded.
“Who? The blonde at the supermarket?”
I nodded again.
Sir stood up and I heard him walking around the bed, to the large cabinet that holds most of our toys. When he returned, he sat on the corner of the bed where I couldn't see him.
“You cunt,” he sighed. “You clit-sucking bitch. I guess I'll just have to make your cunt so sore that you won't want to touch it. ”
His words made my clit hard.
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I unconsciously pushed my ass out to meet whatever punishment he had planned. He responded by spanking my ass again, hard.
“See? This is what I mean. You crave cock all the time. That's got to stop. ”
I felt a finger slide easily into my hole. Juices poured out and dripped onto the sheet.
“You fucking slut!” Sir yelled, suddenly sounding very angry. “Look how wet you are!”
I saw stars. It took me several moments to realize that he had filled my cunt with the largest toy I own: a huge black dildo that usually requires a lot of warm-up. It was warming up, stretching my cunt to capacity.
“Please, Sir,” I gasped. “It's too big!”
The magazine flopped onto the bed under my face. The woman on the page was sitting on a pink vibrator the size of a fire hydrant.
“It's much smaller than this one.
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And that's what you want, isn't it? That's why you have that magazine. A normal cock just won't satisfy a whore like you. ”
As he spoke, Sir began to move the massive black cock in and out of my pussy. I screamed. I lurched, trying to dislodge it. Sir fucked me with it slowly, pushing it in so far that I thought I'd be split in two.
My nipples stung from the clothespins. Soon, I felt a familiar warmth building. . . I was going to cum on that enormous black cock.
Sir heard the pitch of my voice change and stopped thrusting. He used a length of nylon rope to tie the dildo in place and scooped up some of the moisture from my stretched cunt lips. I sucked his fingers greedily, praying that he would let me finish soon.
“I can't believe you enjoy that dildo, whore,” he said, sliding in front of me.
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His cock was huge and hard, turning purple. I wasted no time in taking it all the way to the back of my throat. Sir's hand rested on my head as I sucked and licked his cock, the object of my worship, my reason for living.
As I sucked, I slowly moved one hand toward my cunt, hoping to at least apply some pressure to my clit. I knew that it wouldn't take much to make me cum. Just a little bit. . .
“What the fuck?”
Sir rolled me onto my back and pinned my hands above my head. The giant rubber cock in my cunt felt even larger in that position and I groaned, still unable to cum.
“You really can't help yourself, can you? Well, I'd better just give you what you want. ”
Sir lifted my legs and positioned himself between them. I started to protest. I was still full of that big black cock, after all. But he didn't care that my cunt was full.
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It wasn't my cunt that he wanted. . .
When I felt his cockhead against my asshole, I squirmed and shouted, “No!” Sir responded with a short smack on my cheek.
“You want to cum, don't you? And you cum by getting fucked. . . ” his voice trailed off as he began to push forward. My ass burned and constricted. I struggled to relax, to let him in, because I knew that he wasn't going to stop.
When he was buried to the hilt, Sir began to fuck my ass. Tears ran down my face. I bucked against him, felt that orgasmic warmth begin to return. My ass was completely full of Sir's rock-hard cock. My pussy was stretched to capacity.
I was begging for him to stop. And I was going to cum.
When the first waves hit me, my body clenched tightly, sending shots of pain through my ass. Sir groaned at the extra tightness of my hole. I raised my hips and pulled at Sir's ass, shoving him deeper, begging him to fuck me harder as my fuckholes contracted and beads of cum slid from my cunt.
When Sir came, he flooded my ass. I wanted him to pull out, but I reminded myself that a cock is a gift and that I should be grateful. I kissed his shoulders and took deep breaths, still struggling with the dildo.
“Well, slut,” Sir said, pulling out and reaching for a towel, “what have we learned today?”
I winced as he untied the dildo and slid it out of my now-cavernous pussy. He didn't seem to mind that I hadn't answered.
“What do you need, whore?”
“I need to cum,” I whispered, blushing.
“And how do you cum?”
“By being fucked, Sir. ”
“And how do you get fucked?”
“By you, Sir. ”
He patted my head and laid the towel next to me.
“Well, I'll be taking my magazine upstairs.
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. . ” I listened to his footsteps on the stairs. My cunt was sore but dripping. I was already wondering what the next lesson would be. Maybe next time, I would hide something under my pillow myself, and give him a reason to hurt me for real.
.
