I knelt on the cold floor, awaiting her arrival. The unyielding floorboards bit into my kneecaps, coating them in pain. But this was how I'd been instructed to wait - I had no choice but to endure.
And I had to do so naked. My neatly folded clothes, including my bra and panties, lay tidily on top of the chest of drawers in the far corner of the chamber.
My head was bowed, and the backs of my hands rested on my bare thighs. My open palms faced upwards, as if I was preparing to receive a religious blessing. Which, to my mind, I was. Except mine was a faith that bestowed more pleasure than any other I knew.
Even if the deity presiding over it was the cruelest of Gods.
And, tonight, she was making me wait. But why?
I lifted my head, searching the dark room for clues, for hints as to her mood, insights into the delay behind her entrance. But I found none.
The room was exactly as it always was: a cathedral of fulfillment. The walls were the same dark, regal purple. And the black, leather-clad furniture was unchanged and in its customary positions.
The room even smelt as it usually did. The first time I sat here, the stark tang of leather assaulted my nostrils, and overpowered every other scent. But, now, as well having to learnt to love the primal scent of leather, I could pick out the other aromas that made this room unique.
As well as leather, I could smell the large vase of fresh roses sitting on the unit where I'd deposited my clothes. This mingled with the faint odor of the anti-bacterial wipes that I'd used to clean the furniture after my visit last night.
No - nothing about the room suggested anything out of the ordinary.
Quickly, I replayed our last encounter. Had I done something wrong?
I searched for possible misdemeanors, for potential insults. But I found none. At least, none I was aware of. Had I displeased her and not even known? And, if so, was my ignorance of my sin doubly-worse?
A wave of sadness crashed over me. Pleasing her was my primary aim in life - the thought of having disappointed her depressed me.
But had I?
I was about to find out - the muffled tread of footsteps in the hallway heralded her imminent arrival. My disappointment instantly vanished. In its place, nervous excitement flooded through me, electrifying my body. Involuntarily, I started to breathe heavily, faster.
I heard the door, padded from top to bottom in black leather, swing open. I kept my eyes focused on the floor out of respect. As hard as I would find it, I would not raise my head until permission to do so had been granted.
The door closed.
The harsh, almost martial, drumming of stiletto heels on the wooden floor accompanied her short journey to her throne. The image of the chair she ruled from was seared into my memory due to the number of times I had worshiped in front of it at her feet. It was an impressive piece of furniture. The edges of its vast back was adorned with tiny wooden carvings of roses and their sharp thorns.
And, like all the other items in the room, the seat and the backrest were covered in black leather.
The leather on the chair creaked as she lowered her wondrous body onto it. As she did, my nipples hardened.
A novice would have felt awkward at the absence of sound. Perhaps they might have tried to salve their unease by looking up or even speaking. But I was not a novice. I was her Pet. Her prize slave.
I did not utter a word or raise my eyes. Instead, I savored the silence, enjoying the invigorating effect it was having on my body. Not least as I knew what would come next.
Finally, Mistress spoke.
I stood and my limbs flamed with cramp. I tried to ignore the pain as I struggled upright, but the discomfort was too great - hurt nullified my arousal.
Suddenly, something dug into my stomach - the end of her crop. She'd been gentle by her standards but it had still been enough to eradicate the pain in my body and smother it with sexual anticipation. Hundreds of tiny explosions unfolded inside my tummy and my pussy clenched involuntarily.
"Back," she commanded.
I retreated one step and stopped. I knew where she wanted me. I could have moved to the approved spot without any promptings. But that was against the rules. I had to wait for her orders. The punishment for acting on my own initiative would be instant and severe.
"Again." She dug the crop into my tummy once more, setting off more explosions in my stomach. I felt the first trace of moisture on my pussy. I took another step backwards.
"That's better." But she didn't sound impressed. As usual, her voice was sharp, laced with iciness. However, that only turned me on even more.
The leather on seat of the chair creaked as she stood. The floorboards groaned underneath her as she moved forwards. I could sense her close to me, could smell the soap she'd used on her freshly washed body. Although I knew she wouldn't touch me, I hoped in vain that she might. My skin tingled at the prospect of Mistress' fingertips running over my body. My breasts. My pussy.
But, no - without warning, she was gone.
Like a predator stalking wounded prey, she began to circle me. Inspecting me. The sound of my fevered breathing mingled with the clicking of her heels on the floor. My clit throbbed in perfect synchronicity with every step she took. My heart was beating so fast, so loudly, I was amazed it didn't drown out her footsteps.
She stopped, behind me. I almost groaned aloud as she dug the end of the crop into my left buttock, as if testing its firmness. But I resisted and stayed quiet. Seemingly satisfied with her examination of my behind, she continued her circuit.
She stopped again, this time in front of me. Teasingly, she ran the crop over my breasts, drawing an invisible figure of eight around my erect nipples. I waited for the inevitable torrent of pain as she slapped my tender tits. But no blow arrived.
Instead, the crop was lifted away from my skin, and my breasts remained unpunished. This was a new development. Ordinarily, right now, my skin would be smarting from a vicious kiss courtesy of her crop. But I was unscathed.
And, at that moment, I knew I'd been right earlier - something was different tonight. First there'd been the delay in her arrival. Now, I'd escaped punishment. What was Mistress thinking? What was she planning?
As if she'd read my mind, Mistress had decided it was time for me to find out.
Placing the tip of her crop under my chin, she lifted my head.
"Look at me, slut."
I stared into her light green eyes. My breath caught in my chest as I made eye-contact. There was so much to admire about her but nothing else matched her entrancing, pale pupils. It had been those beautiful eyes I had first noticed, had first fallen in love with two years ago. Two blissful years in which I had found myself. Had allowed myself to be open about those desires I'd suppressed for so long.
Desires about women.
Beautiful, wondrous desires.
But ones that had fed a lifetime of guilt. Of shame. A shame that had ceased two years ago when, on the day after my thirty-eighth birthday, my mistress freed me from the prison I'd built around myself.
I loved her. And, if I pleased her enough, she would love me back. In her own way, of course.
"You're nervous, aren't you, slave?" she purred, staring at me. "Well?"
"Yes, Mistress," I stuttered.
She smiled. "Why?"
"I said, 'why'?"
"Worried?" she spat, mocking me. "And why is my little slut worried?"
"I think I’ve upset you," I admitted, embarrassed.
She laughed again, but more forcefully this time. As she did, her mouth opened wide. As ever, I was hypnotized by those perfect white teeth. But, truthfully, there was no shortage of things my eyes could have feasted on. For she was truthfully the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. A Goddess in human form.
Her hair was long and red. Her skin alabaster and flawless. Her (ever so slightly plump) cheeks were flecked with a smattering of freckles. And, whereas my dark hair and complexion betrayed my South American heritage, her face hinted at her family's Celtic origins. It was also disarming and misleading.
At first glance, you could be forgiven for looking her and seeing a garrulous, jovial Dubliner. Although capable of warmhearted friendliness, this was not her natural disposition. She was capricious, willful, spiteful, and excelled in cruelty.
At five-foot nine, Mistress was a few inches taller than me - a physical superiority she exploited expertly. An advantage further amplified by her physique. Although not large, at size fourteen, I am also neither small. However, her much more wiry, lithe frame was considerably more powerful than mine. She was in no way masculine or overly muscular, but the strength contained in her well-defined arms, legs, and stomach was clear.
Finally, her laughter subsided.
"Oh, you silly, silly girl," she said, raising her right hand, and extending it towards me. "You haven't upset me."
I felt her fingers gently stroke my hair.
"The very opposite, in fact. Up to now you've been impressive."
Suddenly, she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled. My head jerked backwards. I groaned as millions of nerve endings instantly exploded into life and dampness leaked from my pussy.
"And, tonight, I'm going reward you."
She lowered my head and I stared back into her eyes.
"Yes - reward you."
She let go of my hair and slowly stepped back, allowing me to see her in her entirety for the first time this evening.
Again, I was surprised. Mistress liked to dress-up and had an outfit to suit her every mood. But, tonight, apart from the sharply spiked black stilettos encasing her small feet, her pale body was naked.
Naked apart from the monstrous, purple strap-on affixed to her groin.
Later, I'd remember the thick, black straps that wrapped around Mistress' upper thighs and the bottom of her flat belly, holding the dick in place. But, at that moment, all I could see was the fake cock itself. It must have been ten inches long, and was as wide as my wrist - it was gigantic. It's purple, bumpy surface was covered in an irregular lattice of raised veins.
And its bulbous head pointed towards me.
"Wonderful, isn't he?" she asked, wearing a wicked smile.
Still dumbstruck, I simply nodded.
"I bet you'd like to me to fuck you with it."
With those words, I felt my lust flame back into life.
"Wouldn't you, slut?"
"Yes," I whispered. I did – I did want her to fuck me. I wanted nothing more in the world than to feel that giant cock pounding away inside of me.
"You are a kinky little bitch, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said, breathlessly. I was her kinky little bitch. And I loved it.
We stood there. Staring at each other. Neither of us saying a word. But the silence only amplified the intensity of the invisible, febrile energy swirling around us.
My breathing quickened again, and I felt the muscles in my stomach and legs tighten.
Finally, she spoke.
"And fuck you is exactly what I am going to do. Except..."
Mistress stopped. Her lips still grinned malevolently.
"This isn't going where you'd expect."
To be continued…
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