Erotic Story Submitted by RavenMoon - Jan 9, 2011 - From Short stories - Views - 8185
I knelt there waiting, in the mess of my own arousal. The hot wetness all over my legs still flowed slowly from between my thighs. I whimpered pitifully, neglected waiting for the next assault to my battered body. Out of the darkness he touched me, tugged hard at my nipples bruised and sore. I yelped and the heat of his palm across me face sent stars before my eyes and fireworks exploded across my pussy. 'Punish me' I thought. Every atom of my being buzzed with want for the pain he could inflict upon me.
"You are not to speak, to moan, to groan or scream." he growled at me, his voice almost a whisper.
I tried so hard to obey, tried hard to be the good little bitch to be used as he sought fit. I nodded quickly as he pressed his hard cock roughly against my mouth, I opened for him. My lips curled back like the petals of a flower. The head of him prodded the back of my throat thrust after thrust and I tried to swallow him, desperately tried to fit all of him down my throat. His hand, those big hands clutched at my hair finger intertwined there in ever curly lock as he pulled my face to meet his thrusts. I tried not to moan as rivers of my nectar poured from me.
Pain always made me so excited but we all like it a little rough. I could here him breathing steady and even but my breath was coming in short quick gasps, not from lack of air because deep throating is my gift, but from excitement. The sheer power of him I could almost feel him deep in my pussy. 'Punish me!' my mind screamed. My clit throbbed and my pussy pulsed I couldn't keep it in, the orgasm was slowly ripping through me, a scream was forming in my chest and rising up to my throat and on one of his thrusts as deep moan erupted from me as wave after wave of orgasm pushed through me, as I squirted down my thighs and my juices washed across my knees on the hard cold concrete floor.
"Bitch!" He yelled wrenching himself from my mouth, depriving me of the taste of him.
I groaned and leaned toward him desperately trying to wedge him back in my mouth but the only thing that filled my mouth then was the metallic taste of my blood as he slapped me so hard that I fell backwards. Another moan escaped me as I lay there quivering. A light came on above me and I could see in his hand the smooth bamboo cane that often left such delicious welts across my body in places that another man would never see.
"Kneel." His commands were like words from the Gods. He raised his arm gracefully and I felt the cane smash into my already bruised breasts, the next blow stung my thighs and I longed to feel it across my ass. I waited silently through 20 blows, my disobedience would scar my flesh for as long as the welts, cuts and bruised stayed.
"Stand" he whispered and I obeyed quietly bringing my broken body to my feet, "Turn" I could barely move my body hurt so bad.
"Why must you constantly disobey me?" He question rang in my head. A new weapon stung and dug into the flesh of my ass. I turned to see, as fear exploded in my head, as small whip with thin strips of leather pulling away from my flesh leaving deep scratches. Oh the pain was exquisite.
"Do you like the new toy?" he asked. I could taste the grin across his lips without having to see him. I knew him so well, my sweet Master.
"Well?" he expected and answer.
"Yes." I whispered as a small shudder moved through me.
My legs felt so weak and I almost could not stand. My mind reeled and I could see him in my head like a silent movie raising his arm and flicking his wrist landing blow after blow upon my flesh. Oh I needed this pain. My pussy throbbed again and I felt myself losing control and then the blows stopped. His lips were dangerously close to my ears his breathing was heavy and ragged, his voice was the deep growl of a wild animal. "Spread your legs." He growled calmly.
I could barely breath yet I obeyed. He pressed against me, his chest to my back, and he drew his fingernails across my skin, over the scar on my breast that was still so raw from the branding. I was his property. His slave to use as he saw fit. He caressed his way to my collar bone and closed his hand on my throat squeezing to hard that lights exploded across my eyes. Each inhale was more difficult and he squeezed tighter.
"Cum!" he yelled into my ear.
My body convulsed and I thrashed in his arms, cum flowed from me down my legs and pooled at my feet. He loosened his grip on my neck and I moaned over and over again, each time it became louder and louder almost a howl. "Punish me!" my brain screamed and my legs stopped working.
I collapsed in his arms, shuddering as the strength of my orgasms weakened. He let me go and I slumped to the floor in the cold wetness of my own excitement. He stepped away from me, I could hear his foot steps fading toward the door. I whimpered as he unlocked the door. And as he was closing it he grunted across his shoulder in a calm voice, "This floor better be clean by the time I come back down here."
"Yes, Daddy." I whispered trying to bring myself to my knees. Who knew when he'd come back down here, there was no mop to clean up the mess, no rags or clothes to sop up the remnants of my pain. The only thing that existed was me, his slave, his bitch to be used as he saw fit. Punished for his pleasure at his discretion, a human rag to clean the mess off of his cold concrete floor.
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