I stick my key into the lock. The light flashes green, and I hear the familiar bzzzt of the electronic lock popping open. I step into your apartment.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, I got caught up finishing something at work,” I say.

You’re sitting on a couch next to the window. Your jet-black hair is combed into perfect waves, and the muscles in your arms and chest strain your button down shirt. You look up from your computer.

“There’s a package for you on the bed, ” you say, your green brown eyes stare at my face, unblinking.

I slip off my shoes, running my finger down the tip of my instep. I feel your gaze on me.

I walk into the bedroom, and notice a package wrapped in red paper on the bed.

“Shit,” I mutter. I bought the little vibrator I know is inside the package a while ago, I’d forgotten it was coming today. I meant to get home before you found it in the mailbox.

I feel your warm breath on my neck as you walk up behind me.

“Shall I take it you’ve been feeling bored?” you ask.

“No! Not when you’re around at least.”

You walk around me and look down at me. “So I take it you’ve been pleasuring yourself when I’m not here. Even though that’s against the rules.”

“Uh well, you know, if it’s just a necessity its not really…pleasuring, right?”

Your gaze is intense. Despite your serious expression, I know you’re smiling somewhere inside, you’re always amused by my horny-ness.

“Kneel,” you direct.

I lower myself to the floor shakily. Our play sessions are always planned. Usually finite spaces of time carefully separated from the rest of life, aside from the no masturbating rule that you use to maximize my sensitivity. Clearly, today is going to be different.

“Hands behind your back.”

My oversized 32F tits strain against the fabric of my dress. My knees dig into the slight scratch of the carpet, and I look up at you with large dark eyes. My curly dark hair tumbles to each side of my breasts, and I pout slightly, cocking my head at you. Wanting to appear both coy and supple, awaiting your command, but not necessarily ready to give in.

“Well, aren’t you confident. What, you think I’m just going to give you more pleasure, after you show that clearly you can’t even follow one simple rule, designed for your own happiness?”

I remain silent. You squat down in front of me. You extend your hand, and brush the right side of my hair back.

You lean forward, and whisper in your ear, your breath softly tickling me, “listen carefully now, my horny little minx, there are four rules tonight:

1. you may call me sir, and only call me sir for the remainder of the night.

1. Whenever I command you to do something, reply with a “yes sir”.

1. you may not cum until I give you permission to do so

you may not moan or make any noise of pleasure unless I command you to do so”

“Shall we get started?”

I nod.

“Yes sir, should be the response,” you say, frowning at me.

“Yes sir,” I reply.

“Good. Get down on all fours, now. Lets get that flat little ass on display,” you say, your voice dropping even deeper.

“Yes sir,” I reply. Placing my hands on the floor.

“Now, I’m not sure you even deserve a spanking, given how much pleasure you get out of having your ass slapped,” you say, as you lean down to caress my buttocks, “Plus, I doubt you could keep from moaning.”

You continue rubbing my ass, and I start to squirm back into your hand. A slight moan escapes my lips. Shit.

“What ever shall we do with you?” you ask, “you can’t even keep from moaning when I barely touch you.”

Slap. I jump forward. Where did the riding crop come from? I think to myself.

Swoosh. Slap. Swoosh. Slap. You continue to whip me with the riding crop, making me arch and dip my back in time with your strokes. As the stinging begins to grow, I try to wiggle away, but you hold my hips firm with your large hands.

“No moving.”

“Yes sir.”

After another minute of cropping, I find myself starting to get wet. I think you must know, because you stand up and walk over to the toy box.

“Thank me each time I slap you with this paddle,” you say, turning to show me the heavy, black silicone paddle in your hand.

I look up at you, wide eyed, as you walk around me.

“Yes sir.”

Twack. You hit me. Hard. My stomach rolls; how embarrassing to have to thank you for this.

“I’m waiting,” you say, as you caress my ass with the paddle.

I open and close my mouth a few times. Finally the words escape, a mere note above a whisper, “thank you.”

“I can’t hear you, little one, what did you say.”

“Thank you,” I say, a bit louder.

“You’re forgetting something, aren’t you?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Better.”

Twack.

“Thank you, sir.”

Twack “Thank y-.” Twack.

“Faster,” you snap. My cheeks flush; usually I’m the one telling you to hurry up.

“Yes sir, thank you, sir,” I reply, beginning to grow red with embarrassment. You continue, alternating your blows with my thanks. My pussy is beginning to feel warm and wet. It’s becoming hard not to let a moan escape whenever I open my mouth to thank you.

Mercifully, you stop.

“Alright,” you say, “sit up and squeeze those tits like the dirty little girl you are.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, tell me why your ass is spanked red, and why you’re sitting in front of me like this.”

“I don’t know,” I reply. I look up at you coyly, testing you, as I set my hands back on the floor.

“Hands squeezing your boobs, NOW. And, you better have a good response, unless you want my riding crop on your bare ass.”

I hate that damn crop.

“Because I’m horny, ” I say quietly.

“I couldn’t quite hear you, but I think you said because you’re a horny little cunt, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m glad we agree. Now then, off with that dress: unzip yourself.”

“Yes sir.”

I turn my back to you, reach around, and slide my zipper down.

My dress drops to the floor. I stand still; the cool breeze of the air conditioner tickles my nipples into erection. My breath catches as you run your hand down the curve of my waist, and around to cup my ass.

“Now, why don’t you bend that flat little ass of yours over, and –” you say.

I whip my head around to glare at you.

“What, did I insult you? It is flat, perhaps if you worked on plumping it up instead of pleasing yourself, you wouldn’t be in this little predicament,” you reply, “in any case bend over, and hold on to the footboard.”

My breath catches in my throat. This is spanking is about to make earlier look mild.

“Oh please, don’t pretend to be scared, you know you love getting spanked, don’t you, my little pain slut?”

I grunt.

“Aren’t you forgetting to say something?” you ask me.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

“Yes sir, I do like getting spanked.”

“There’s a good girl, now bend over, and don’t move until I tell you to do so.”

Your bare hand slaps my panty-covered ass. I jolt forward slightly.

You rub my ass, tickling just slightly, sending a rush of warmth to my cunt. You stop rubbing and begin a steady assault of smacks on my ass. I begin to grind back into your hand, wriggling with pleasure. Suddenly, you stop.

“Pull your panties down just to the bottom of your ass. It’s time for a paddling,” you say.

I shake my head, and stay still. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of seeing me pull down my panties for a hard paddling like a contrite child.

“Slut. Pull. Down. Your. Panties.”

I remain motionless.

“I’m going to ask you one more time…pull your panties DOWN. NOW.”

Again, I am still.

Twack

Your palm comes straight up between my legs, landing on my unsuspecting and soaking wet cunt.

Twack

Your palm collides with my cunt again, this time the heel of your hand is positioned to dig into my clit causing maximum pain.

“I’m sorry. Please,” I gasp, yanking down my panties.

You step back, and I can feel your gaze boring into my ass.

“Not good enough,” you snap, “strip and kneel. Quickly.”

I straighten myself, legs slightly quivering. I push my panties the rest of the way down and kick them off, simultaneously reaching back to unclasp the three clamps of my 32F bra.

I drop to my knees and look up at you.

You stare down at me. I’m intensely aware of my stiff nipples. The ticking clock, the wetness between my legs that is dripping onto my inner thigh.

“Lay down,” you command.

Confused I sit down and stretch out my legs and roll my back onto the prickly carpet.

“Roll over onto your stomach.”

“Now, lift up your ass and stretch out your arms in a prostrating position, as if you’re actually repentant for your bad behavior.”

You step forward and place your feet on top of my outstretched hands. My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. I know you can see the bud of my asshole as well as my dangling breasts. I’m helpless in front of you, unable to move now that you’ve pinned my hands to the floor.

You pick something up from the bed, and I shiver as you drag the thick silicone paddle along my spine.

Smack.

The paddle lands firmly on my buttocks. My body lurches forward with nowhere to go.

“Back in position, slut,” you say.

Smack. Smack. Smack…

Your spanking begins to take on a hard painful rhythm. Every so often, you swirl the paddle around my ass.

“Please, sir, please,” I cry out as the paddling begins to sting.

“Please, what, do you want me to stop?”

I do, but I don’t, you’re hurting me, but you’re sending to me to that place between pain and pleasure. I can’t help but wriggle my ass back, wanting more of your paddle, and I can’t help but cry and jump away wanting less. Every stroke sending both pleasure and pain rattling through my brain.

“That what I thought,” you say. I know if I could see your face, you would be wearing that smug, all-knowing grin.

Involuntarily I begin humping back into the paddle. I’m beyond the point of embarrassment; I’m ready for this pain-and-pleasure mix to turn into pure pleasure.

Suddenly, you stop.

I whimper.

“Shh, I’m certainly not done with you yet,” you tell me.

You drop the paddle next to me with a thud. Stepping off of my hands, you walk around behind my ass. You kneel behind me and reach forward. The index finger of your hand slides across my pubic bone and over my clit. I cry out in ecstasy. You slide your finger further through the wetness of my slit, and then back, wresting the pad of your finger beneath the hood of my clit.

You begin to move your finger, pressing directly against my clit in small circles. I cry out, again and again. As you continue, my cries become whimpers as your finger causes my body to reach pleasure overload. I grind back on you in an attempt to cum, despite the too-much intensity of the direct stimulation. Once again, you suddenly stop.

“Still can’t control yourself, I see,” you growl.

“Go lay down on the bed.”

I stand and walk over to the bed. I lay with my back against the coverlet.

“Ass up,” you pull down the coverlet, “I can’t having you making a wet mess on my bedspread, now can I.”

I wriggle with embarrassment, pulling my arm over my eyes.

“Arms out,” you say as you lift a length of white rope from the toy box next to the bed.

My eyes widen. We’ve had the rope for months but you have yet to use it.

You pick up my right arm and make a tight knot around my wrist, although you’re careful to leave two fingers-width of room so that it won’t chafe. Despite your displeasure at my uncontrollably horny behavior, I know that everything you do is filled with love. You pull my arm back to the bed and tie the rope to the base of the bed frame. The length of rope is slightly short, leaving my arm uncomfortably extended over the edge of the mattress.

You nod as I wriggle, trying to find the most comfortable position, “perhaps this will help you remember that I control your pleasure, my horny little minx.”

You pick up my left arm and make the same knot. When you finish, I reach my left wrist over to join my right wrist on the right side of the bed. Instead, you grab the end of the length of rope and tie my left wrist to the opposite side of the bed. I now lie helpless before you.

You reach down and pick up yet another length of rope, quickly tying each of my ankles to the bed frame, leaving me spread-eagled with a cool breeze drifting against my pussy.

Finally, you plug an orange extension chord connected to our large Magic Wand Vibrator into the outlet. You set the wand next to me on the bed. You also pick up the little vibrator I purchased, which started this whole mess, and place it next to me.

Slipping a blindfold over my eyes, you run your hand down to squeeze my nipples. Pinching, twisting, kneading, massaging. Moments later, I hear the tell tail clink of nipple clamps, as your hands leave my boobs. The harsh bite of rubber clamps interrupts my reverie, as you snap the clamps onto my tender pink nipples.

I hear the weight of your feet on the floor as you walk out of the room. My thoughts race: What are you planning to do? I imagine you’ll torture me with the wand. Or maybe you’ll force me to cum. Why the blind fold? Why are you leaving the room? You can’t leave me here!

I call out your name.

No reply.

I hear a creak next to the bed.

A feather begins to tickle my face. I feel the bed sag slightly as you sit next to me.

Slowly, you drag the feather from the lobe of my ear, down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, across the dome of my breast, down the side of my ribs, over the curve my waist, into my inner thigh. Then, you ascend my body on the other side following the same pattern. The feather descends again. I twist and wriggle away from it. This time, when you reach my inner thigh, you bring the feather back up between my legs. You tickle my clit back and forth. I moan and moan, relishing in the pleasure of the feather light touch.

You lean down to suck on my earlobe. Your whisper in my ear sends shivers through me, “Don’t you dare cum, my pretty little minx, don’t you dare.” Your words only make me hornier, as I fight the urge that’s rising within my hot clit.

You stop.

I hear a faint buzz. Then a painful tension, as you pull down on the chain connecting my nipple clamps. With a snap, they pop off. Immediately, you rub the vibrator across my sore nipples, first the right, and then the left.

“Ugnh, please, sir, uhh uhhh,” I groan, unsure if I’m in pleasure or pain.

You continue for a few minutes torturing me. Then silence, and relief, as you switch off the vibrator and give my aching nipples a rest.

I hear a click, and a far louder buzz, as you turn on the Magic Wand.

You spread the lips of my pussy with your fingers, and slowly run the wand across them, carefully avoiding my clit. You circle the wand torturously over my lips again and again. I strain against the ropes holding my body, twisting and turning, trying to get you to move the Wand onto my clit.

“Please, sir, please, please, please, touch me, please,” I beg.

“As you wish,” you reply, “remember, no cuming.”

You press the bulbous head of the vibrator against my clit and my hips shoot up as much as the ropes allow. As you see me getting close, you start to count:

“One, two, three, four, ” I hold on, breathing deeply in an effort not to cum, “five.” As you utter the last number, you move the Wand away. My hips sink back into the bed.

Ten seconds later, you press the vibrator to my clit again. I shriek.

“One, two, three, four, five,” again, you move it away, just as I’m about to come.

You repeat this pattern five, six, seven times. I begin to lose track, as my body becomes a blur of barely contained desperation and pleasure.

Your hand reaches up to remove my blindfold; I look into your eyes as your hand settles gently around the base of my neck. Just resting there, firmly, possessively.

“One, two three,” my hips are shooting up, straining, my pussy is dripping and twitching, “four, five, NOW,” you shout, giving my throat a slight squeeze.

With a moan and a grunt, my eyes roll up as my pussy spasms, I feel myself shooting into the orgasmic plateau of no return as my body gives into your power.

You keep the vibrator pressed to my clit, as my orgasm stretches on, and I begin to scream and thrash.

You move the vibrator away and release your grip on my throat. You stroke my hair and smile down at me. You lean down and kiss my lips. I’m so exhausted; I can barely kiss you back.

“See,” you whisper, “isn’t it better when I give you the pleasure?”