M : If you’re not here in three minutes, that’ll be your second strike for the day, pet. Are you trying my patience on purpose?
A quick glance at the clock on your dash told you it was already over for you as your car read out the text in its robotic voice. You were meant to arrive promptly at ten just like you had every time before, but as you pressed your foot onto the gas pedal just a smidge more and sped down the mostly empty highway road, you knew there was no way you would make it there in your three minute deadline.
You gnawed the inside of your cheek. You would be lucky to make it to the beach house in fifteen.
You pressed a few buttons on the console of your car, dialing your guest directly and tossing around words in your head, searching for any that would help your desperate attempt at damage control.
“Is everything alright?” a concerned voice answered. You could hear a quiver of panic in his tenor, your heart doing a little twirl in your chest at the sound of him vibrating in the speakers.
“Yes, yes, I’m just running very late. I’m at least fifteen minutes out.” You pitched your voice a little higher, hoping that in all the time you had spent together, just maybe you had picked up enough charm to soften him, if only just a little. “Can’t you please forgive me, just this one time?” you asked as sweetly as you could muster.
“It’s ten o’clock at night, pet.” His voice was stern and condescending, every shred of his initial concern gone. You groaned internally, acknowledging that you hadn’t picked up a damn thing. “Tell me, where are you supposed to be at ten?”
“I know, I will be there, just-”
“You have the nerve to ask for forgiveness-”
“Rudely wasting my time-”
“Master, please ,” you said, whining just a little. He always seemed to enjoy your pleading, so maybe. Just maybe. You picked up speed a little more, passing a sedan that was, unlike you, respecting the speed limit.
“Mm,” he hummed, a slight reprieve at your use of his proper title. “Pitiful. Tell me your excuse.”
The guilt nipped at you. You had never been late before, always leaving with plenty of time for the two-hour drive to the home near the beach you owned with your husband.
Unlike you, your guest had certainly put in his fair share of effort today, prepping you here and there with provocative texts and one ill-timed phone call, telling you explicitly exactly how little he thought of you and what he intended to do to show you. All things you desperately wanted to hear and see and feel.
Of course, you hadn’t meant to be so late. It wasn’t as though you didn’t know tonight was on your schedule. You so looked forward to it each month.
With the strain of your careers on each of you, you and your husband made sure to put effort into your marriage. You had regular date nights, never missed a birthday or an anniversary, and never spent more than a few days without having him between your legs one way or another. Although that had been much more often lately, as you had finally decided to try for your first baby. It had only been a month since you’d started trying, but you both wanted it to happen quickly, so you took any available time you could to make it happen, whether sandwiched between his conference calls or stretched out across late nights after your busy schedules had ended.
But it had been a year ago that your husband suggested you both take a day apart every month or so. And, because you both agreed that time apart was just as important as time together, those days you both went your separate ways, free to entertain your interests as you saw fit. The strict guest now waiting for you at your vacation home by the beach had become your choice of interest not long after.
And so you had been flipping through your tablet, searching up page after page, video after video on fertility when you lost track of time. A poor excuse you knew full well he wouldn't accept.
Ten was the definite start and here you were still speeding down the highway. True, it was late and you probably could have gotten away with a bit more speed, but just in case luck was not on your side, you didn't want to chance making him wait longer thanks to a ticket.
“I have no excuse, Master.”
“Then get here and accept your punishment.” The call ended without a chance for another word and you knew you were well and truly fucked.
Though it was only two hours away from the city, the house had served well as your slice away from the noise when you and your husband needed to a quick escape. But tonight you entertained a different kind of guest there. One who had his own key and was impatiently waiting for your arrival at this moment.
Fifteen minutes late, you pulled up into the drive, flipping off your headlights as the automatic ground lights lit the way towards the front door. Secluded and surrounded by swaying trees and mile high privacy gates, the home was a beautiful sight even in the moonlight. Just past the entrance began a path towards the back of the home, leading to a rear walkway that wound down to a private section of the beach where you and your husband had made many an obscene noise and romantic murmur together.
The pale light of the late evening sky reflected across the walls of the home, which were almost exclusively glass and served as a beautiful landscape to wake up to in the morning sun. You could also see the orange glow of the dim lighting inside. A fire slowly began building in your throat, though whether it was from dread or excitement, you weren’t sure.
You let yourself in the front door, immediately slipping out of your heels and glancing around for your guest’s location. The home had a beautiful, open floor plan, allowing the space to breathe through all the windows and giving you a clear view of much of the square footage.
You spotted him, perched comfortably on a barstool and leaning against the island just at the edge of the kitchen, taking one last swallow from his wine glass. Cabernet, you noted, tensing at his choice. It was definitely going to be a long night. He sat the glass down, turning his head toward you with a disinterested glance.
You hurried to his side, grabbing up the bottle of wine sitting on the counter and tipping it into his empty glass. He lifted an arm, taking an exaggerated look at the pricey watch on his wrist, before settling his heavy gaze on you.
His eyes pierced you before you even met them, dark and threatening behind the black mask that covered the top half of his face. Really, it barely covered him at all, masking his identity just enough to keep up the mystery, but still letting you appreciate the beauty of him.
He watched you pour quietly, the corners of his mouth downturned, pursing his lips into a disappointed pucker.
You had noticed his heavy, black, lace-up boots by the door, and took a moment, looking him over to take in what he wore: a simple white dress shirt, tucked into slim-fitting black slacks.
You sat the wine bottle back onto the counter where you’d found it, just near his black, leather suitcase.
You didn’t dare speak. You were never allowed to unless he asked you to and you had unintentionally broken enough rules for one day. Besides, he didn't look too angry at your tardiness, lips only pursed in his mild frown as they usually were.
He lifted the newly filled glass and took another sip, not bothering to look directly at you once he finally spoke.
“Does he know?” Always the same question, always the same answer.
You shook your head as practiced.
“Use your words.”
“No, Master. He doesn’t know I’m here with you.”
Your guest didn't have a name. You were only to call him Master or, on rare occasion, Daddy. The choice was at his discretion, though he was a little kinder to you when you when he chose the second. And at the moment you didn't know if you wanted kind tonight or not.
“Good girl.” He turned to you and placed his empty hand on your chin, fingers tilting your head up as he studied your face carefully. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and the gesture startled you. It was almost loving, certainly not a feeling he had given you in the past. “I’ve missed you, princess.”
“I’ve missed you,” you said dreamily, wanting desperately to lean your face into his hand, but knowing better than to move without permission. Instead, you stared at him with longing, eyes falling to the plump of his lips.
But your relationship wasn’t such a romantic one. You knew better than to expect that he might caress you with the softness your husband would. That was expressly why you were here to begin with.
The rough pads of his fingertips slowly slipped to the skin of your throat, wide thumb pressing against your windpipe with just enough pressure to be uncomfortable.
“You were exactly seventeen minutes late.” His voice was tinged with darkness as if he held back the threat to tear you apart just behind the words. You shivered.“Tell me what happens when you’re late,” he ordered.
“I-” you choked out, wanting desperately to swallow, but his other fingers shifted, tightening around your throat. You watched the flames ignite in his eyes, the threat pushing itself forward.
“What. Happens.” His words burned to through the air, stinging against your skin. Your eyes had already begun to water.
“Punish.” You coughed, shuddering in his grasp. “Punishment.”
He pulled his hand away and you coughed again, hunching forward a little and pressing a hand to your chest. He merely looked you over with disinterest and took another sip of his wine.
“Ten licks,” he said, darting out his tongue to swipe across his wine-pinkened lips. You nodded, accepting your fate and lowering your head. But then his hand was at your chin again, tipping back your head. You sucked in a breath.
“Hm. You seem to be missing something.” He released you and gave you a subtle nod. Your hand flew to your throat and you cursed to yourself under your breath, remembering the little, jeweled collar he’d given you all those months ago that you’d left on your vanity in your last minute rush to leave the house.
“Twenty licks,” he said calmly, shoving aside his glass and slipping off the barstool where he sat. “How can you forget something so simple? You really are my stupid, little bitch, aren’t you?”
You nodded and he seemed to accept your nonverbal acquiescence, folding his hands behind his back and taking a casual step away from you.
“Let’s get on with it then, before you waste any more of my time,” he said, voice gentle even in its dismissal of you. “Take off your clothes. Leave the panties.”
One of your husband’s favorite things to do was undress you. He seemed to get an erotic high from peeling the layers of fabric from your body, running his hands across the skin as he unveiled it, like unwrapping a gift. It made you feel like a goddess, as though he worshipped your body with each inch that was revealed to him.
But your Master never did. He always made you take off your own clothes as if the act of undressing you was beneath him. He watched as you tugged off your top, and moved slowly past you as you unhooked yourself from your bra. It was more unnerving, having him watch you undress like this. Some part of it felt humiliating, stripping yourself bare, watching your clothes tumble down to the kitchen tile while he hovered somewhere behind you, fully clothed and watching you like you were nothing more than mild entertainment.
You rolled down your pants and kicked them aside. The urge to glance behind you, to seek him out came over you, but you didn’t dare. It was always best not to move unless he told you to.
You weren’t sure how long he made you stand there in your underwear, seconds bleeding into minutes. You wriggled your toes a little on the hard tile of the kitchen floor, waiting desperately for a command, any command. But only silence greeted you and it was so much worse. Was he even still there? Did he even care to see your naked body or had he gone off to find something more interesting to look at? You supposed that was the point. To make you doubt that he had any more interest in you than a side-table lamp.
A soft moan escaped your lips when you felt his fingers at the base of your neck, breath hitching as they slid up between the strands of your hair. His fingernails grazed your scalp and you almost melted on the spot, only now realizing how badly you had longed for his touch.
With an almost too gentle tug, he pulled your head to the side and you felt the warmth of his breath for a second before his lips connected with your skin, sending electric waves skittering across your body. Your lips parted as he kissed you, over and over against your neck, as he slid his tongue across your skin, as his teeth sunk ever so lightly into you. All the while, his fingers making satisfying strokes along your scalp.
You felt the chill of his watch, metal gliding across your arms, before settling against your chest as his free hand cupped the soft flesh of your left breast. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, whimpers slipping from between your lips as he squeezed the skin, as he tenderly rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
And then his hand was moving, down across your stomach, leaving behind a prickling trail of excitement. His fingers lifted the band of your panties and slid just inside, rubbing circles onto the triangle of flesh just below.
Your breath caught the touch and you adjusted your feet, pressing yourself back against him, whimpering as his touch ghosted the triangle of skin at the apex of your thighs. He didn’t bother to lift his lips from the skin of your neck when finally spoke.
“Easy, girl.” His fingers slipped a bit lower, grazing just where your lips parted, but no further. “Such a horny, little slut I have. How eager you are for my touch already.” Another gentle bite into the tingling skin of your neck, now damp with his saliva. “The night has only just started.”
His fingers slid lower then, slipping between the folds of your pussy and making an agonizing drag across your clit, then past it to the wetness of your entrance below. He paused there and you heard him breathe out, knowing he was already smiling without needing to see his lips curl. “You must really be craving my attention. Have you been thinking about me today?”
“You want me to treat you like him, hm?” His fingers pulled back, just enough to slip across your clit once more. “You want me to make love to you and treat you like a queen? Hold you in my arms and tell you how much I love you?”
Another slow drag kept the words from leaving your throat. Unable to answer, moaning as he began making gentle tugs at your clit, and again as he slipped his fingers inside you.
“You won’t find that here, pet.” He exhaled against your skin, other hand slipping from your hair, roughly grabbing your opposite breast. “Here, you're only good for being used.”
His fingers pumped in and out of you, the palm of his hand caressing your nub and building speed, racing you towards a quick finish. It never surprised you, how fast he could have your body ready to cave in. But as the orgasm neared the end of its build just below your stomach, you did wonder why he wanted to take you there so quickly. Still, you felt unable to respond beyond soft, heated cries, only savoring the momentum as he pulled your body along whatever path he desired.
He chuckled at your whimpering moans. “You really will take whatever you can get. Look at you, ready to cum for my fingers after only a few minutes.”
His fingers slipped from within you, instead cupping against your mound, applying a squeezing pressure as he pulled you back towards him. You could feel the stiffness of him pressing against your ass, surely an intentional gesture.
“This is mine,” he growled into your ear, pressing his palm against the wet lips of you, shoving your hips back further against his hardness. “And I’ll treat it just like property. That’s all you are, understand?”
“Yes, Master,” you answered quickly, not at all surprised at the ragged breathlessness of your voice.
His hand released your breast, only to lay a stinging slap across the top of it. You took in a sharp breath at the pain.
“I'm your property, Master.”
He hummed a low approval. “Good girl.”
His fingers resumed their work on your wetness, slipping back inside you. His tongue traced the edge of your ear, nibbling the shell as his fingers sped between your legs. You felt confused, unsure if he meant for you to give in to him or not. You weren’t going to last long with his fingers in you like this, caressing your walls so expertly.
“I can feel you clenching down on me, pet. You’re such an easy girl.” He sped more with his words and you felt the heat just beginning to spread, the walls holding back your release shuddering to open.
And then the fiery sensation was evaporating from your belly as he tugged his hand from within your panties, leaving you hanging on the precipice. You whined in frustration and he chuckled, instead bringing his wet hand to your throat, giving it a healthy squeeze.
“That’s the closest you’ll get to cumming for a while, do you understand me? Tonight isn’t about your pleasure. You only come here to let me use you, like the whore you are.”
You nodded your head again, dizzily trying to respond, to back away from the edge he’d dragged you towards.
His hands shoved you forward and, unprepared for the sudden movement, you fell to the floor, hands catching your fall onto the unforgiving, cold tiles.
“On your knees.”
You pushed yourself up and hurried to your knees, staring up at him from your new spot on the floor expectantly.
“Take off my belt,” he ordered in an almost bored voice, though the rise in his pants let you know he was likely anything but.
You nodded and crawled forward towards him, reaching up your hands for the thick strip of leather. But he was quick, smacking your hands away and huffing down at you in exasperation. “With your mouth, you stupid, little bitch.”
Your eyes fell to his belt again and you leaned yourself forward, hesitantly gripping the strap with your teeth. It took some tugging and maneuvering, but at last, you were able to undo the buckle and, leaning your body back, slid the belt from the loops of his pants.
“So you can use that thing for something,” he commented smugly, then turned away from you. “Come on,” he ordered, patting the side of his thigh. “Follow me.”
He walked towards the main living area beyond the kitchen and you hesitated for a moment before crawling after him, his belt dangling from your mouth. At least you felt grateful that the transition to the soft, creme-colored carpet was gentler on your knees as you walked on all fours.
He stopped in front of your sizeable, black, leather couch and stepped aside with a glance down at you. You made your way forward, stopping and sitting back on your heels next to him, looking up at him with your eyes wide. Taking him in, even with the thin, black mask covering half his face, you admired his features in the dim lighting of the room. From this angle, you could see the sharp curve of his jaw, the high point of his nose, and those pillowy, soft lips that you craved more than anything to come crashing into your own. But you shook your head, remembering that this wasn’t the time or place for those kinds of thoughts.
“Good little bitch,” he hummed, giving your head a gentle scratch. “Up onto the couch now, and face away from me.”
You did as ordered, pushing your body up with your hands to climb forward onto the buttery material. Your bare breasts sank into the pillows as you leaned forward, nipples still stiffened from his earlier teasing.
He tugged the belt from between your lips and left you again in silence, disappearing somewhere behind you for longer than you could count. You looked forward, trying to catch his reflection in the far glass wall, but it was useless. Only slightly swaying trees and darkness laid beyond.
You felt his fingers again, this time at your hips. He gripped the hem of your panties and made a slow tug, rolling them down your hips. You felt a cool rush of air as your wetness was bared.
He slid them to your knees and gave one of your inner thighs a gentle pat and you obeyed without words, spreading your legs to give him as much access as he wanted.
You could feel his warm breath on you as he blew against your core, shivering at the contact.
“Such a dirty little cunt,” he spoke, the vibrations of his words stroking your wetness and letting you know just how close he was. “Look how it drools for nothing.”
You felt one of his hands stroke across the cheek of your ass, the nail of his thumb dragging the lightest scratch over the skin. It only made the fire inside you roar again to life. Every touch, every little bit of contact he gave you was a gift to be savored. Despite how angry he professed to be with you tonight, he was being far more giving than he had before and you wanted to accept it as fully as you could.
“How long will you stay this way for me, hm? Do you want me to touch you here more?”
He slid a finger across your wetness at an agonizingly slow pace, starting at your swollen clit and pulling back until the tip of his finger danced at your drooling entrance.
“Yes, Master,” you whispered, wanting desperately to shove back your hips and slip his finger further into your folds.
You heard him chuckle again, this time much darker. He brushed more fingers across your slick a few more times and you leaned forward into the couch with each stroke. You closed your eyes, content to savor his touch.
And with those words, you felt his same fingers, now wet with your arousal, slipping across the skin of your raised ass. “You really are a princess, aren’t you? Only thinking about yourself. Well, that’s the habit I’m here to break you from.” There was a quiet pause, then the sound of him climbing to his feet.
The first slap with his folded belt was the most unexpected, the sting enhanced by your now wet skin. You cried out into the cushions, your body tensing at the pain now rushing through you.
You heard him drop back down to his knees, his hand gripping your stinging skin. “Look at you clenching, slut. Your body is practically begging me to hit you harder.” He let out a guttural groan and stroked his hand across your wetness again, this time rubbing it on your opposite cheek. Your body tensed in anticipation of the next swat and you would swear you heard him laugh before the belt came slapping against your skin again. It hurt more somehow.
He whipped again and again, but you lost count around the sixth or seventh slap, the welling heat and pain against your backside drowning out your desire to keep track.
There was a pause in his movements and you assumed he was watching you again, planning to wet your skin once more. You could feel your your pussy drooling, wetness slipping down the skin of your inner thighs, unable to separate between the pleasure and pain his strikes had left sizzling across your ass.
Then you heard something softly land on the carpet.
“Fuck, look how wet you are,” he breathed, dragging out his curse as his fingers slid inside you without resistance, past the knuckle until he could go no further. He ran them across the flesh inside and you moaned again, pussy tightening around his fingers without your permission. “You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment this way, princess.”
This time he didn’t bother to smear your wetness against you. As his newly damp hand came slapping down onto your cheek, the pain returned, the soreness of the skin still enough to make you cry out again. He grabbed your thighs, pulling you back to the very edge of the couch. Your face was buried between the cushions, but if he cared he didn’t let on, his attention only focused on administering your punishment.
You saw him brace himself with his foot on the couch, using the leverage to deliver several sharper slaps to your rear. You cried out with each one, fully aware that the skin would be more bruised than it ever had by the next day. After what felt like the hundredth sting, you bit your lip, holding back your desire to spit out your safe word. You had only ever had to use it twice in your escapades and those had been much more severe experiments than a few slaps on the ass. You clenched your teeth and promised yourself you would bear it as he continued.
He released your thigh and you fell forward, knees almost slipping off the couch as you caught yourself with your hands.
You could hear the irregular breathing from his exertion as he pushed you forward, nudging up your hips so that your dripping mound would remain exposed.
“That was for being late and forgetting your collar, pet. Do you remember what your other punishment is for?”
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as the dizzying pain slowly subsided. “For...for not calling you Master, but I swear I didn’t know it was you.” He had caught you off-guard, in the middle of work and it slipped your mind for only a moment. “I swear. I wasn’t ready, it was early-”
He didn’t use the same force as before in his next slap, he didn’t have to. As his hand swatted against your lower lips you jerked forward, thighs closing as you fell to your side on the couch. He had never hit you there before, the feeling new and exciting and uncomfortable all at the same time.
You shook your head to steady yourself and shifted your body back up onto your knees, presenting yourself for him once again.
“A good girl always knows her master. A good girl accepts her punishments. Tell me, Y/N, are you a good girl?”
You nodded, a few tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.
You yelped when his hand swatted at your pussy again, but you steeled yourself and remained upright.
“Y-yes. I’m a good girl, Master.”
His thumb stroked across the still stinging skin of your ass and you winced at the contact.
“You’re not, but I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.” You heard his voice fading slightly as he headed back towards what you thought was the kitchen. “See, I know how much you love putting your hands on me.”
He was back at your side again, tugging one of your arms behind you with rough force. You felt a smooth bit of fabric slipping around your wrist, realizing that he must have gone to his suitcase to retrieve your pair of oft-used, leather handcuffs. Your other arm was pulled and tied in the same rough motion.
“So tonight, no hands.”
He heaved a heavy sigh and you could feel his eyes on you, on your behind, admiring his work. “On the floor then. A disobedient bitch doesn’t belong on the furniture.”
You began maneuvering your way onto the floor, trying to work out how to keep your balance as you inched backward with your hands bound. But your movements were too slow for him, a strong hand gripping your shoulder and pulling you back and off of the couch before shoving you down onto your knees.
“Take out my cock.”
You puckered your lips into a pout, staring forward at the impossible task of fishing out his cock with no hands. But if he noticed your distress, he said nothing, only standing in front of you with his hands on his hips, waiting for you to follow his orders.
You kicked away your panties from around your ankles and crawled closer to him. You managed to unzip his pants with your teeth, but try as you might, you couldn’t tug the rest of the fabric apart, couldn’t get enough of a grip to pull them down.
He sighed, hand gripping your chin before shoving you down onto the floor.
“Useless, useless mouth.” You looked up at him to find him undoing the pants himself, tugging them down along with his boxer-briefs and letting them drop to the floor at his feet.
“Come here. Up. Don’t make me do everything for you.”
It took some effort, as your heels brushed against your still stinging rear while you uprighted yourself and were greeted with the impressive sight of him. His cock bobbed in front of you just below the edge of his dress shirt, the skin of it a deepened pink and the swollen head glistening only slightly at the tip.
His hand was in your hair, but not gentle this time, using it to yank you forward towards his waist with a rough tug. “Open your mouth for me like a good little fucktoy.” You wanted to reach for him, to take him with your fingers and slowly guide his length into your mouth.
But without the use of your hands, that was impossible and it seemed he wanted it that way, fingers still wrapped up in your hair. You took a glance up at his face and he tilted his head slightly.
You sat up onto your knees and leaned forward, slipping your lips around the head of him, using your tongue to caress the tip and taste the bitter, saltiness of him.
His grip on you loosened as you danced around his cock with your tongue, as you slowly slid in more and more. A quick glance up and you doubled your efforts, spurred on by the way his lips parted, the widened pupils that stared down at you while you sucked him with abandon. He had started to moan once you reached the base, fingers tangling loosely in your hair as he breathed quiet, satisfied noises each time you slid from head to base.
His hand tightened again in your strands and you felt him stiffen a little, holding your head in place for a moment.
“That’s enough playing with your food,” he growled, voice honeyed and deeper than before. Part of you wanted to chance a smug smile at the effect you’d had on him. But he didn’t give you that opportunity. “Be a good cockslut for me and I’ll think about rewarding you.”
His hips were slamming forward against you then and you did your best to relax your throat as he took over, fucking your face with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. Unconcerned for your comfort, he held onto your hair like as if steering a horse while he thrust into your mouth with abandon.
His growling mounted, at first like a low burning fire within his chest, to the loose, ragged breaths that now spilled from his lips.
As his strokes continued, you were finding it more difficult to breathe. It felt as though you were choking around his cock, feeling the tightening in your chest as he blocked your airways over and over, no chance to take a breath between each thrust. You wanted to reach forward, to grab him and pull him away, but without your hands, you had nowhere to dig in your nails but the palms of your own hands as tears collected in your eyes.
“Stop struggling, pet,” he growled, pulling tighter on your hair as he sped his hips, ramming his cock at the back of your throat. “This is all your mouth is good for. You need to learn to relax and let me use you.”
But he pulled your head away abruptly moments later. You leaned forward, head hanging just in front of him and took deep gulps of air as drool dripped from your lips onto the floor around his bare feet.
“Mm, your mouth takes my cock so well,” he said in a satisfied purr. He was kneeling in front of you then, lips against your wet mouth in a sloppy kiss. His tongue found yours quickly, slipping against yours with a blazing passion that had you moaning into his mouth.
He parted from your lips, eyes locked onto yours with a heavy stare. Behind the mask, you could see the hunger in his deep, brown eyes, the energy of his desires penetrating you without words or movement. Beyond the soreness your body felt, the wetness between your legs, you felt the heat from his body, intense and almost overpowering even as you only stared in silence.
“I want to fuck you. Right now,” he growled and got to his feet, grabbing hold of one of your arms on the way up and pulling you to your feet with him.
His fingers dug into your skin as his urgent steps guided you both across the living room floor and towards the bedroom, separated from the main living area by a long, white wall. It gave the illusion of privacy. But you knew well that any noises made inside traveled easily throughout the home, as one set of your unlucky friends could testify.
He released you from his grip with a rough toss, throwing your body forward onto the soft, white sheets of your bed without grace. You groaned as you hit the surface, unfortunately landing on your still screaming backside.
“Ass up. Show me your dirty little pussy so I can decide how I want to take you.” The rough scratch of his voice grabbed at you somewhere deep inside, reminding you, even through the pain, of your deep desire to please him as much as you could.
You watched his hand go to his shirt, watched him unbutton it from the top and slip it off to finally make him as bare as you. The urge to obey his orders faded as you took in his body in the low light of the bedroom. His skin was a creamy, golden-peach color, the toned muscles of his arms and chest taut beneath the surface. Your eyes trailed down his body, past his broad shoulders, across his tight stomach and slim hips, to the hardness that begged your attention. You darted your tongue out across your lips, wanting nothing more than to feel him against the back of your throat again.
He caught your admiring stare, lips curving into a teasing half-smile as he watched you watching him. He patiently let you take him in for a moment before crossing his arms, blocking your view of his chest. "Don't make me repeat myself, pet."
Your attention refocusing, you pulled yourself up and turned over, leaning your face down into the sheets and pressing your rear up as he had requested.
He wasted no time in getting his hands on you again, gripping the sensitive skin of your ass, making you hiss in a breath. He chuckled at your reaction, hands slowly trailing down your thighs and nudging them apart once more.
“Look at this little cunt, dripping for me. You're ready to cum for me, aren't you?" he asked, thumb making a testing stroke across your clit. You bucked your hips a little in response. "But you know better than to cum without my permission, right?” he asked, knowing you knew the answer.
But all the same, you whined as his tongue connected with your lower lips, slipping across your folds and immediately pulling you back to unsafe territory. He stroked you with his mouth for what felt like an age, swapping between rolling his tongue across your clit and slipping it inside you, taking teasing laps that made your thighs shake weakly.
"Please..." you breathed, as he returned to your clit for the millionth time. You wouldn't last much longer. After being brought so close before, you were quickly ready to boil over again.
"Is that supposed to be begging?" he sneered, pulling his face from between your thighs and bringing a hand down against your ass with enough force to knock you down onto the bed.
It took some effort, your body simultaneously sore from his harsh treatment and weak from his teasing. But you raised yourself again.
He slipped at least two fingers between your folds then, pounding them inside you with rough force while he squeezed along your thigh with the other.
“If you cum without my permission, it’s going to get so much worse for you.”
The pressure against your pussy walls was agonizing, and you wriggled your wrists against their restraints, half wishing you could push his hands away for a reprieve. But he refused to let up and you could only cry out again and again.
“That’s right, you like it this way. You only understand when I’m tough on you, isn’t that right, my little slut?”
Your only response was to moan again, too far gone for words. You felt his hand leave your thigh, felt the warmth of his body leaning against yours as he reached again for your hair.
“Are you my slut?” he spat out at your back, and you groaned at the satisfying burn as he tugged your head back by your strands.
“Yes, Master,” you breathed, barely able to speak.
"Tell me you're my slut."
"I'm-I'm your slut." He let go of your head, throwing you forward again.
"Hm. Say it again."
"I'm your slut, Master."
“Tell me what you’re worth.” His fingers turned and curled inside you then in a speeding stroke across your g-spot. You squeezed your thighs together just a little, but his free hand forced you to spread again the next second.
“Nothing...” you cried.
“That’s right, you’re good for nothing except what?”
“Be..being-” His hand left your thigh and joined the other between your legs, pressing unbearable rolls against your worn-out clit. Your words were cut off, unable to process anything beyond his touch.
“Speak up, pet, I can’t hear you,” his said, tone amused. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to force yourself to concentrate on answering his question and not letting your orgasm overtake you, the latter of which you were sure was about to be a lost battle.
“B-being a... fucktoy. Disposable f-fucktoy.”
His hands were off you then and you fell forward into the sheets, a confusing mix of relief and frustration washing over you.
“Hm, at least I know you can remember. Up.”
You didn’t have the energy, your appendages ignoring your commands to move as he’d said. And some part of him must have taken pity on you for once, his hands slipping to your waist and pulling you up onto your knees, behind in the air for him once again.
“Tell me what you want, princess. You want my cock in this pussy? Or...should I fuck your ass raw?”
His fingers stroked across your ass until he pressed a knuckle against the puckered hole of your between your cheeks with the lightest pressure. Your hips betrayed your desires, lifting slightly at the touch.
“Hm?” he hummed curiously. “Ass tonight?”
“N-no, please,” you managed to say. “In my pussy, please.”
“Are you addressing me?” he asked, tone hardening. You groaned as you felt his thumb sliding into your ass, enough wetness having slipped from between your legs to give the effort some glide.
“Please, Master...” He paused for a moment and pulled his thumb from you, removing his touch from your body completely. It was somehow more agonizing, not being able to feel him there.
“Ah, I am a kind owner, aren’t I?” you heard him preen somewhere behind you.
“The kindest master,” you spoke, slightly muffled by your lips against the bed. “The only one for me, the only one I belong to, the only one I cum for.”
“Tell your master what you want and I’ll consider it,” he said, voice even and patient. He was so kind tonight, you praised him internally. So kind.
“In my pussy please, Master. Only your cock, ever, please.”
“Hm, a shame. This is your reward then for listening well enough. Remember that you wanted this.”
You felt the bed shift behind you, felt his strong hands grip your waist, the metal of his watch bumping against your hip as he shoved his cock inside you without warning, filling you to the hilt.
He groaned, deep and throaty, only matched by your own mewling, so satisfied to finally feel the rough stretch of him inside you. His hands squeezed your hips without caution, digging into the skin hard enough to ensure you would be sore there tomorrow as well.
“This fucking pussy,” he groaned, exhaling a long breath that you were proud to have drawn out. “Your pussy is so tight for what a slut you are.”
“Only for you, Master. Oh god..” you moaned. He lifted your hips a little, deepening the angle of his cock and the feeling of him slamming into your cervix over and over was maddening. You were drooling into the sheets in less than a minute, ready to sign over everything you owned if he would just let you cum, just let your pussy spasm around his cock.
He seemed to want to answer your silent prayer, hand reaching around and stroking your clit. The pain from his hips crashing into your ass was nothing compared to your need to finally reach your peak. “Please,” you wheezed out, begging for the inevitable release he was teasing you with.
Your cry came from deep inside your chest when you felt him pulling out of you. “Why-” you bemoaned and heard that mischievous chuckle from him again.
“Such a selfish slut,” he muttered and you felt his hands on your hips again, this time flipping you onto your back. He pressed your legs apart and you lifted yourself enough to bring your arms above your head before helping him to guide his length back inside you. His reach wasn’t as deep, but the drag of his thick cock was just as overwhelming. He leaned forward and you thought he might kiss you again, you were dying for his kiss.
But his hands only reached for your breasts, giving them rough squeezes as his hips continued their fierce pound between your legs.
“F-fuck, watching your body under me like this…” he hissed, pinching at your nipples with no gentle touch. You rolled your hips forward to meet his every thrust, though they were not gentle either.
He leaned forward again, releasing your breasts and instead pressing a hand against your bound wrists. The new angle spread your legs beneath him wider, and as his cock crashed between your folds, you felt him grinding fiercely against your clit over and over. You clenched around him tighter than you knew you could, your vision rolling back into your head just a little.
“What did you just say?” he growled, pausing his thrusts for a moment.
“Master, I'm sorry. Master, please don't stop. Please,” you hissed and whined, begging for him to just take you over the edge, you were right there, right there .
He leaned up then, shoving a hand across your face, forcing your mouth and nose against the sheets with an uncomfortable squeeze.
“Shut up. Just shut your fucking mouth, alright? It's useless unless there's a cock in it.”
Then his hands were at your throat and his thrusts resumed as his fingers tightened their grip. He pounded into you harder, deeper and you lost track of him, your vision going blurry as he squeezed the air from your throat, thumbs digging into the skin with each press forward into you. You choked a weak gasp, certain you weren’t going to last much longer as the edges of your sight darkened.
His hands released you, cock slipping from between your legs once again. You felt the bed shift and wondered if he had cum, but blinked back your uncertainty, your mind addled from the overage of sensations. He was much noisier when he came and you wondered if you’d missed it somehow in your brush with darkness.
Then his hands were at your ankles, pulling your body forward and flipping you onto your stomach. You groaned as his hands were on your hips, pulling you down and sliding your legs over the edge of the bed.
He slipped his feet between yours, kicking your legs apart and spreading your pussy lips with his fingers. You felt him guide his cock inside you again, starting to feel the soreness the effect of his ministrations was having on your sensitive area.
His hands didn’t move from your hips, his thrusts quickly becoming erratic, a sure sign that he was nearing his end.
“Where shall I cum, slut?” he asked, voice mostly a deep murmur. “On your back? Your face? Maybe I’ll cum on the floor and make you lick it up.” His hands slid up to your hair, tugging it back only slightly. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Rolling on the floor in my cum like the filthy bitch you are?”
You moaned at his harsh words. “Cum inside me, please,” you panted.
“Is that what you want, huh? You cumslut, you want it inside your dirty little pussy?”
“Please Master, cum inside me, please.” You swallowed, reaching for the words inside your chest, forcing your voice to cooperate. “Breed me like your little bitch,” you purred out, however hoarse.
“Oh, you want to have my baby, hm?” He chuckled darkly at your words.
“What do you think he would say? If he knew you were begging for my baby while I’m buried inside you like this?” He released your hair and gripped your hips, lifting them just a little to slip in deeper as if to punctuate his words.
“He..he doesn't have to know. Please…” you keened.
“Tell me who you belong to. Say it.”
“You, Master. My pussy is only for you. Only for your cum, please.”
“You want me to fill your dirty little pussy with my cum, baby girl?”
You could tell me was losing himself a little, breath growing more ragged, words more sloppy.
“Yes, Master what?”
“Fill my pussy with your cum, Master, please. I want your baby inside me.”
“Beg for it.”
“Please Master, please. Fill me with your cum, I want to feel it filling my belly, please. Please!” you begged, almost crying.
He reached out, shoving your face into the bed and rutting against your ass, burying himself deeper into your wetness.
“Take it then, my little cumslut.” His breathing staccatoed and his groans built slowly until his hips came to a halt and he growled noisily, spilling his seed deep inside you with every intention of giving you the pleasure of carrying his baby.
Your body was trembling at the feeling, the satisfaction of having his seed pumped inside you this way. You didn’t move, didn’t dare breath as he came down from his high. He leaned forward against you, planting precious few kisses along your back. And then he took his hands from your hips, slipping his softened cock out of you. You fell forward onto the bed, uninterested in moving, not even sure if you were able.
His breathing slowly evened as he stood behind you and, mercifully, you felt his hands at your wrists, finally releasing your hands from their binds. You slid them to the sides of your body, already cursing the soreness in your shoulders.
You felt him roll you over onto your back, hissing a little at the still stinging pain in your backside. But looking at him eased your suffering slightly. His skin was glistening with sweat, droplets of it dotting his forehead and neck. He had turned slightly red, flushed with the exertion and, no doubt, his release. He smiled down at you, seemingly admiring your body with the same appreciation.
But the smile fell from his lips as his eyes roamed further down your body.
“Oh, what’s this?”
He was shoving your legs apart, fingers again impossibly on your core. But more disheartening was what you could feel as he did so, the slow slip of some liquid that wasn’t entirely your own making its way across the innermost of your thighs.
“You said you wanted to have my baby. So why is my cum leaking from your worthless pussy?” He barked a laugh, making a sharp slap against your inner thigh. You winced. “You can’t even keep cum inside you properly?”
His fingers were inside you again then, and though you didn’t think you could take any more, your hips responded, lifting to his touch as he dragged his fingers forward as if he was asking you to come. Which he was.
“Is this the only way to keep it inside you? I have to shove it back into your useless cunt?”
And so he was back to fingering your pussy, pulling you closer to the edge you hadn’t strayed far from all night. With only a few strokes against your clit you were moaning beneath him once again. “Please…” you begged for the millionth time. Truth be told, you had lost count. “Please let me cum, please…”
His fingers slid from you with a dirty, squelching noise, a testament to all the wetness that had built up in you over the course of the evening. Laying beside you on the bed, he brought his fingers to your lips and you parted them obediently. The taste couldn’t be described as anything other than sex, lingering with salty sweat, the bitterness of his cum, and the tang of your slick.
“Go clean yourself up. And don't even think about touching yourself.” He only dismissed you with these words, laying himself back onto the bed while looking at you expectantly.
Weak and defeated you pulled your body forward and slid onto weak legs. You gave him one last pout, to which he only raised an eyebrow, and, wholly unsatisfied, you hurried off to the bathroom suite just off the bedroom.
Stepping into the shower was reliving and disappointing both. The warm water stung across your bruised skin in several places. But it also soothed the tension in your muscles. You rolled your neck and stretched under the stream as best you could, anything that might ease the soreness you would doubtlessly feel in the morning.
You reached for your loofah and began to wash your body, feeling the grime of sweat and spit and various bodily fluids being rinsed from your skin. You wondered if it would be an entire month before he let you cum, shuddering at the fearful prospect. This must’ve been the true punishment and it was agonizing.
You turned beneath the showerhead, biting your tongue a little at the sting when something in the glass caught your eye. He was standing there in the doorway to the bathroom, still nude, arms crossed, and leaning a shoulder against the door frame. His eyes were watching you with an out-of-character admiration, the dark, brown curls of his hair slightly stuck to his still sweaty forehead. But once he noticed your eyes on him, his expression hardened a little, and he moved to join you, tugging open the glass doors and stepping inside the shower with you.
Without hesitation you grabbed your husband’s loofah, loading it with product, and began scrubbing down his body. He didn’t speak, allowing you to clean him in silence. Though you didn’t miss the slow rise of his cock as you ran your soaped hands along his skin.
As you stood, finished as far as you could see, he stepped forward, pressing you back against the tiles of the shower wall. He raised a hand to stroke your jaw and this time you didn’t resist, nuzzling your face against his touch.
“You didn’t even whine, pet. You’ve improved so much from that mouthy, little princess that first came to me, hm?” His thumb brushed across your lips and you pressed a cheeky kiss against it, drawing a chuckle from him. “My good girl...”
And like you had been craving all evening, he kissed you, hand slipping into your wet hair at the base of your neck. He kissed you with a deep passion, trading tongues for feelings as his lips wrestled with yours.
He patted the side of your thigh, but you didn’t have the energy to jump into his arms as he wished. He pressed his forehead against yours, hands slipping behind your thighs and pulling them up to meet his waist.
Without great effort, you felt the hardness that had returned slip inside you again. He grunted as he thrust into you, a little less Master, a little more like the man you loved. You leaned your head into his neck, moaning softly as he pressed up against your folds over and over.
You felt him brace you both against the wall with one hand, the other slipping between you to make quick strokes against your battered clit. It must have been less than a minute before he had you cooing his name into his skin. Back to teetering on the edge, too weak to beg for permission.
But the stretch of him was just as satisfying as before and even with his gentler stroke, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You tightened your legs around his waist, your fingers desperately clawing for purchase on his wet skin.
“Cum for me, my princess,” he purred into your neck. “You’ve earned it.”
The orgasm he had been building in you all evening came crashing down in fierce waves, your body trembling against his chest as it overtook you, flashing through your body like sparks of lightning. And just as the dizzying rise of it began to subside, you felt yourself slip away, darkness quickly overtaking everything else.
You woke with a start, eyes attempting to focus in the darkness of the room. The lights had been turned off, save for one you could sense in the distance. But you felt a warm hand on your cheek, stroking you with a gentle touch, then slipping to your shoulder and pressing you back against what must have been a pillow.
“You did really well. Sleep, pet. I'll see you next month.” And as you had all evening, you obeyed that voice, the one that filled your days and nights with more happiness than you could ask for.
The next time you woke up it was thanks to the bright streams of yellow sunlight passing through the glass walls of your bedroom. Sitting up was a painful chore, but you managed to drag yourself from the bed and wander slowly into the bathroom. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror, not wanting to visualize the damage that had been done to you the evening before. Instead, you reached into a cabinet and searched out some pain medicine, swallowing it down as quickly as you could fill a glass of water. Though you weren’t sure it would be enough to stop the aching soreness in your muscles and between your legs.
With a quick sweep of the house you had gathered up your clothes and, not wanting to linger, headed out to your car and quickly got back on the road to your home in the city.
Once you arrived home you headed inside, fully planning to crash lazily in your bed for the rest of the day. Your husband’s suitcase lay just to the side of the entryway, carelessly tossed there as it often was. And you noticed a curious black mask sticking up out of a side pocket.
You smiled to yourself, tugging it out and following the faint sound of his voice to the room he kept as his home office. You found him, hurriedly talking business into his mobile as usual. After a moment, he noticed you in the doorway, giving you a bright smile, eyes rich with love. He wrapped up his call quickly and tucked his phone into his pocket as he walked towards you. You waved the little mask in front of your face, giving him a smug smile.
“This really ruins my immersion, Hoseok,” you cooed. His eyes widened at the sight and he blushed, expression turning sheepish.
“Ah, shit. Sorry, love,” he apologized. “This call started in the car and I just threw it down when I got in.”
He tugged it from your fingers, tossing it behind him and pulling you into his arms.
“Although, calling my name during sex probably doesn’t help the immersion either, hm?”
“Touché,” you conceded. He leaned forward, his lips pressing softly against your own and you savored the connection, happy to be back in his loving arms.
“How are you feeling? Sore? Need a massage?” He planted soft kisses down the curve of your jaw between his questions and you smiled at the attention.
“Please, I'm not that delicate.”
And he smirked as you hissed in pain when his hand pressed a light squeeze against your behind.
“Ok,” you conceded again. “Maybe just a nice, hot bath.”
Hoseok kissed your temple, stroking a finger across your chin. “Anything for you, princess.”