Typical “male dominant/female submissive” story…

“Morning baby,” she said, turning over in bed, wrapping the blanket about her.

He looked at her and whispered “get out of bed, now” in that “polite, but this is not merely a request” tone of his.

She flung the blankets off of her, her nipples growing hard with the sudden influx of cool air, and made her way to him. Immediately, she dropped to her knees and took the his full and erect length into her mouth. “Such a good little cocksucker,” he said after a moan, “but stop, I have plans for you.”

He reached for the desk and pulled out two sets of fur-lined cuffs. She started to rise, but he interrupted her “oh, you’re good on your knees,” he said, and then chuckled.

“Oh, I know it. I’m very good on my knees” she replied before breaking into a fit of giggles.

And he let her giggle away as he fastened each of her hands to one set of cuffs before sliding the other end of each over her foot and the sliding it up her shin, effectively securing each hand to its matching thigh.

As soon as he stepped back to admire his handiwork, she tested her restraints. She couldn’t move her hands more than a few inches in any direction but backward, and moving her hands backward left her losing her balance.

“We can’t have you toppling over, now, can we?” he asked and left the room, returning seconds later. In one hand, he held a a narrow, wooden bench with two holes cut into the top. In the other, he held two dildos with a screw sticking out of the “non-business” end.

He walked up to her and placed the bench between her legs – the seat sat just a fraction of an inch below her bottom. She sat upon the wood as he held out the first dildo toward her. “Suck,” he said, and she started working the dildo as she would his member. And rather than fucking her face with it, he simply held it, letting her do all of the work. “I think you might want to be a bit messy with your drool,” he said, and she let a bit of spit spill out of her mouth and track down the artificial member.

He pulled the phallus away from her and pointed it between her legs. “Lean back” he said, and then pressed the phallus against the opening of her slit. Slowly, he inserted it, fully, into her, and then pumped into her for a few minutes. Just as she was getting into the rhythm, however, he stopped and withdrew it.

And with a quick grasp of hair, he had her leaning forward and she felt the dildo against that *other* hole. He made a sputter sound, and she felt a gob of his spit land just above the entrance to her ass. And, ever so slowly, she felt the dildo enter her.

“Do not be quiet — you won’t like this nearly as much, if you’re quiet,” he whispered, in the same tone he had been deploying, and she whimpered as it pressed into her, stretching her, filling her.

And after the phallus had been pressed fully into her, he pressed the screw through one of the holes in the bench. And a second later, he had that secured with a nut.

The next dildo went straight into her pussy, but he didn’t fuck around with it . . . simply, it went in, the screw was placed through the hole in the bench, and then secured.

He stood in front of her, running the tips of his fingers down her jaw-line. “You’re not going to forget today for a very, very long time, my dear,” he said, and she nuzzled his hand, just as a cat might direct a hand to pet it in just the place where it wants to be pet.

His hand traveled down her neck, between her breasts, and to her left nipple. After playing with the nubbin of flesh, teasing it between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed and pinched it. She gritted her teeth together, releasing a frustrated slither.

“No, no, no my pet,” he responded, taking the other nipple in his other hand, pinching the right alongside its twin. “I want to hear it all today,” and, with that, he released, just as she let out a moan.

His left hand cupped her right breast, lifting it. “I want to hear your cries. I want to hear your moans. When I go to bed tonight, I want the sound of your gasps, of your whimpers to serenade me to sleep. You will not hold back.

“You will look my in the eyes, for I want to memorize that look you use to look at me. When I close my eyes, I want to see it. It’s the image I want to masturbate to. I don’t care if my cock is hard. I don’t care if someone else comes into the room. If I’m looking at you, my pet, I want you looking into my eyes.”

“Now, my pet,” he said, her left breast supported by his hand, “what is it that you want me to do to you?”

“Please, sir,” she said, the strength of her voice actually shocking her, for she thought she’d have difficulty speaking. She looked directly into his eyes, however, and found her voice falter, “please, please hurt me.”

And with that, his right hand came down on her supported breast. She’d been trying to remember to not hold things back in, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The sudden, hard slap in the cool, brisk air left her tit stinging. And she cried out as she closed her eyes, before bracing for a second blow.

But a second blow did not come.

He let her breast fall.

She opened her eyes.

She looked up at him.

“Oh, do you want to look at me now?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“Please, please hurt me. Take my tit and smack it again,” and with that, she did a little shimmy, letting her breasts sway in front of her.

“I’m doing this because you need this,” he said, adding “and because I really, really want to.” And with that, he lifted her left breast. She never took her gaze from him. He smacked it, harder than that first time, leaving her to cry out.

But she never broke eye contact.

“Please, sir, hit me again.”

And another blow came.

And like that, they played . . . looking into each other’s eyes and he, repeatedly, responded to her requests to spank her breast yet another time.

Tiny tears welled in her eyes – but she did little more than to blink them out. Quickly, a path lead from the ridge of her nose down her face, tears traveling in a river.

She expected to hear the sizzle of water hitting a hot surface when one landed upon her left breast, but no such event happened.

Neither he nor she could tell you just how many times her left breast was spanked, though, we as mere observers, know the number to be seventy-six times.

When she started to sob, openly, he released her breast. The skin, from nipple to the valley, was red, swollen, and angry. She looked down, trying to make out his handprint on her skin, but her eyes were tear-filled, and she saw little more than an angry, red splotch.

With nary a pause, she looked down at her unmarked breast, then up at him. “Please, sir, hurt me,” she said in a clear voice.

And so he did.

With both breasts marked, his right hand traveled its way down her stomach. As he approached her soaking-wet pussy, she started to gasp. He made tiny little circles with his fingertips once he reached her clitoris. “Don’t cum yet, my pet,” he whispered, and he placed the fingers of his left hand about her throat.

Slowly, he strengthened his grasp about her neck as he worked her clitoris, feverishly. She started to rock on the bench, riding both dildos as well as she could with the way she was bound.

“Cum,” he whispered, and released the grip about her throat. She threw her body back in a state of absolute rapture as juices flowed from her sex.

And with that, he began to slow the pitch of his hand about her clit until, minutes later, he was no longer touching her.

She anticipated being let go – but he, again, left the room. And, again, he returned within seconds – this time holding a hairbrush.

She cringed. She knew her tits would be spared any additional torture, if the past was any guide at all. He’d allow them time to heal — not fully, but they’d had enough for today. Her backside, well, he had left it entirely unmarked.

With the hairbrush in one hand, he took the bonds off of her wrists and legs, and supporting her weight by placing his hands beneath her armpits, he lifted – the squelching sound of released suction heard as her orifices broke contact with the two phalluses simultaneously. He lead her to the bed, and had her lie on her side.

The sting did not come, but rather she felt bristles against her scalp as he started to brush her hair. “Now, my darling, what must you do?”

She was in a state of euphoria, and simply hummed something unintelligible.

He pinched her bottom and she rocked her hips back.

“Every morning, and every evening, you’re to send me pictures,” he said to her. “I want to see the bruises. I want to see you.

“And with those pictures, I need to know how you’re feeling, see how you’re doing.”

Her hum was more melodic as he continued to brush her hair.

She dozed, and when she awoke, she was in his arms – and he was wide awake, in more ways than one.

“Shall I show you just how truly I am when I’m on my knees?” she asked, her voice not trying to hide the inner brat that was working its way out.