... I wanted her to wonder if it was coming or not. Time seemed to warp as I made myself wait to strike until I could count three seconds out that the paddle was out of her peripheral vision. Then I just let muscle memory take over and let the cooling feeling of breaking all the anticipation flow over me, listening to the pleasing crack of the paddle against her tense bent ass.
I sometimes I wonder what registers first in her mind: the sounds meaning the pain is just about to come, the pain itself, the helpless feeling of knowing retaliation or retreat will only bring on severe punishment, or the pleasure. The five of them always weave into the moan she makes after the first spank like a fine chorus. Her whole body quivered into an invitation for another; her back arched, her lips parted, her eyes closed and she leaned forward even more. I struck her again quickly and the chorus crescendoed.
Why did I have to decide to teach her patience ... It was as much as I could stand to stop. I saw that she had put a crack in the glass in her sudden ecstasy, and wrestled for a few seconds with the idea of using it as an excuse to beat the hell out of her right there and make her service me. The look on her face begged me to either hurt her more or fuck her.
I set the paddle down slowly and pointed at the floor in the opposite corner of the kitchen. "You've been lax in your chores, cunt. I told you to keep this kitchen clean. The floor in that corner is filthy. You will clean it first before we continue." She back and forth between my eyes and the floor for a few seconds, utterly confused. "NOW!" I thundered at her, taking a step towards her and unfolding my arms. She tripped and fell over in her hurry to scurry away, quickly recovered herself and ran off to go get a sponge and something to clean it with.
I purposefully stood over where she would have to work, looking out at eye level with a composed displeased look. I must say, she began to work very quickly. I put a foot down on her working hand to pause her for a moment. "I'm going to go get the flogger. See the handcuffs and blindfold on the counter? When I return, the floor is to be clean, plus you are to be naked, blindfolded, handcuffed, PERFECTLY STILL, and in a position for your back to be flogged. If you fail, I'm going to make you sleep in the cage in the basement." I picked up my foot and turned on a heel, walking slowly towards the bedroom.
When I returned with the flogger I was quite pleased. The one thing she was picking up on very well was attention to detail. Her entire uniform was folded neatly in the corner as I make her fold it when she puts it in a drawer. The floor was immaculate. Her knees and hands were on the ground, presenting a nicely angled back for me. I walked purposefully in a rhythm, and when I stopped by her side I saw her flinch on the missed beat. I counted to ten, making her wait again, then brought the flogger down hard on her back.
[A flogger is something with a handle that has several small strips of leather or hardened material, working on the same principle as a whip, but producing a much more dull pain.]
She gasped in pain, arching her back again, then made a low purring sound. I pulled back and hit her again, producing a louder purr, then again and again. I took a deep breath and hit her one more time, pulling out of her a small helpless whimper.
I knelt down and put a hand in her hair. She immediately turned so her cheek was against it and rubbed gently. I indulged her for a moment before quickly reaching back into her hair and grasping it by the roots, turning her face back down to the floor. "You little whore ... all I'm going to do tonight is show you the dark depths of your own person, the total subservience I've impressed into your sexuality, and the simple fact that your experience here has made a need to be owned permeate your whole self," I whispered in her ear as she shivered slightly. I continued, "When you wake up in the morning, there will be no way to deny that you don't remember how to own yourself, that you need me desperately to be a whole person, or that there is any part of you that is not servant to me. You will wake up and embrace your role as my whore with a completeness you never have before." She took a deep breath and only said meekly and sincerely, "Yes Master."
I pulled her to her feet by her hair and led her outside, where I already had a surprise waiting for her ...
adapted cybersex with a chick I used to date/spank/use that moved a couple hundred miles away to tend for her dying hospitalized father =P
I sometimes I wonder what registers first in her mind: the sounds meaning the pain is just about to come, the pain itself, the helpless feeling of knowing retaliation or retreat will only bring on severe punishment, or the pleasure. The five of them always weave into the moan she makes after the first spank like a fine chorus. Her whole body quivered into an invitation for another; her back arched, her lips parted, her eyes closed and she leaned forward even more. I struck her again quickly and the chorus crescendoed.
Why did I have to decide to teach her patience ... It was as much as I could stand to stop. I saw that she had put a crack in the glass in her sudden ecstasy, and wrestled for a few seconds with the idea of using it as an excuse to beat the hell out of her right there and make her service me. The look on her face begged me to either hurt her more or fuck her.
I set the paddle down slowly and pointed at the floor in the opposite corner of the kitchen. "You've been lax in your chores, cunt. I told you to keep this kitchen clean. The floor in that corner is filthy. You will clean it first before we continue." She back and forth between my eyes and the floor for a few seconds, utterly confused. "NOW!" I thundered at her, taking a step towards her and unfolding my arms. She tripped and fell over in her hurry to scurry away, quickly recovered herself and ran off to go get a sponge and something to clean it with.
I purposefully stood over where she would have to work, looking out at eye level with a composed displeased look. I must say, she began to work very quickly. I put a foot down on her working hand to pause her for a moment. "I'm going to go get the flogger. See the handcuffs and blindfold on the counter? When I return, the floor is to be clean, plus you are to be naked, blindfolded, handcuffed, PERFECTLY STILL, and in a position for your back to be flogged. If you fail, I'm going to make you sleep in the cage in the basement." I picked up my foot and turned on a heel, walking slowly towards the bedroom.
When I returned with the flogger I was quite pleased. The one thing she was picking up on very well was attention to detail. Her entire uniform was folded neatly in the corner as I make her fold it when she puts it in a drawer. The floor was immaculate. Her knees and hands were on the ground, presenting a nicely angled back for me. I walked purposefully in a rhythm, and when I stopped by her side I saw her flinch on the missed beat. I counted to ten, making her wait again, then brought the flogger down hard on her back.
[A flogger is something with a handle that has several small strips of leather or hardened material, working on the same principle as a whip, but producing a much more dull pain.]
She gasped in pain, arching her back again, then made a low purring sound. I pulled back and hit her again, producing a louder purr, then again and again. I took a deep breath and hit her one more time, pulling out of her a small helpless whimper.
I knelt down and put a hand in her hair. She immediately turned so her cheek was against it and rubbed gently. I indulged her for a moment before quickly reaching back into her hair and grasping it by the roots, turning her face back down to the floor. "You little whore ... all I'm going to do tonight is show you the dark depths of your own person, the total subservience I've impressed into your sexuality, and the simple fact that your experience here has made a need to be owned permeate your whole self," I whispered in her ear as she shivered slightly. I continued, "When you wake up in the morning, there will be no way to deny that you don't remember how to own yourself, that you need me desperately to be a whole person, or that there is any part of you that is not servant to me. You will wake up and embrace your role as my whore with a completeness you never have before." She took a deep breath and only said meekly and sincerely, "Yes Master."
I pulled her to her feet by her hair and led her outside, where I already had a surprise waiting for her ...
adapted cybersex with a chick I used to date/spank/use that moved a couple hundred miles away to tend for her dying hospitalized father =P
