READING ALLOWED, Part 8 By lamignonne and Zenmackie Marie felt wretched. While he was gone, it had been easy to nurture her feelings of resentment towards him for leaving her alone all day, tied up and bored, and suffering acutely from her unsatisfied lust.
As the long day had worn on, her jaw aching more by the hour, her stomach growling, her body cold and bruised and her head more often than not in one of his toilets, Marie's frustration had grown and grown. She'd even started to feel like she was justified in snooping around in his study. After all, she'd given up her whole weekend for him and he hadn't even seen fit to stay at home!
Marie hadn't been able to form any kind of resolve about how she was going to behave when her Master came home, other than the vague idea that she certainly deserved some attention from him and would be prepared to communicate just that if she didn't get any. But her resolution wavered the second she sensed him in the bathroom. He'd startled her, standing there so quietly while she worked, squashed up against the toilet for all the world as if she were embracing it.
She'd dropped the cleaning brush and it had splashed her, and just like that, she was at a disadvantage. As usual. As she'd struggled to kneel the way he liked, Marie tried to cope with the confusing riot of emotions that she was feeling. On the one hand, she was still mad at him, anxious to show him that she didn't appreciate his leaving her; on the other, his presence overwhelmed her, intruded even on her carefully nourished anger, and all her instincts were screaming at her to throw herself at his feet and show him her joy and relief that he'd returned.
Her desire to have her suffering acknowledged by him warred with the desire to suffer still more, to do anything he wanted as long as he would smile at her and tell her she was a good girl. She could feel him studying her and trembled.
Her urge to grovel grew stronger as he approached her, overpowering her with his presence, torturing her with suspense. As he gripped her chin and raised her face to look in her eyes, Marie had panicked, terrified he'd be able to see her every disloyal, petulant thought, and then she had made the terrible choice to show him her anger. How quickly he'd put her in her place, she thought miserably now. In truth, he'd had all the power from the moment he'd come into the bathroom, had controlled her more efficiently with just his presence than his chains had been able to do throughout the long day.
He stood before her and her body shook with the desire to kneel; he humiliated her and she craved his approval beyond every other need. She had tried defiance just this once, confronting him with nothing more than the look in her eyes, and his reaction had been immediate, painful and devastatingly effective.
Marie had realized again, with excruciating clarity, that her attitude was still all wrong. It was her privilege to be allowed to spend the weekend with him, her undeserved honor that he was willing to teach her. After all, she hadn't been a very good slave… She clung to his ankles, her forehead resting on his feet, trying to control her sobs and hoping against hope that her obvious contrition would mollify his displeasure with her.
At long last, he spoke. "You're getting toilet-water all over my shoes." The mildness of his tone, with its bare hint of amusement, filled her with such relief and delight that Marie felt like scampering around the bathroom and wagging her tail like the good little doggie she wanted to be for him. But she made herself hold perfectly still for a moment, then slowly raised her face to his again and, trying very hard not to smile, said, "I'm sorry, Master." Yes!
His expression was now one of bemused affection; he was no longer angry with her! Oh, thank God. He grabbed a hand-towel from a nearby rack, roughly dried her face and hair with it then threw it down on the floor beside her.
Marie knew he was expecting her to use it to dry his shoes. Instead she once more lowered her head&hellip.and began licking them clean.
It didn't take long—less than a minute—to complete the task, but something about it, the complete and utter abasement of kneeling at his feet, naked and in chains, licking toilet water from his shoes, was setting her on fire.
She had no time to analyze it—all she knew was she had to have his cock in her mouth—now. She sat up. Her eyes flickered up to him once—he was frowning down at her, but not angrily. He seemed intent, as if he was trying to guess at her thoughts.
Feeling suddenly sure of herself, Marie leaned forward and placed a kiss on the front of his pants where his erection strained against the fabric. She nuzzled her cheek there and looked up at him again, holding his gaze this time. "Please, Master," she said, "may I suck your cock?" They were both a little stunned. Marie couldn't believe how strong and confident her voice had sounded.
Her pussy flooded with moisture at the sound of the words; her eyes sparkled with excitement. Even though he'd just spanked her, even though her hair was wet with toilet water and she was naked and chained, this felt right. As for her Master, he couldn't get his pants open fast enough.
He'd think about what her behavior meant in a few minutes—right now, he focused on Marie's hot, talented little mouth as she bent to her work. Good God, it felt like she was trying to swallow him whole! Marie was overtaken by a strange sort of frenzy. It was as if she couldn't get enough of his cock in her mouth. Her captive hands reached for his balls and her fingers lifted them, rubbed them, and squeezed them gently all the while her face was pressed against his groin, her throat full of him.
She massaged the spot below his balls and her tongue went into overdrive on his shaft. This was one time he wasn't worried about coming too soon.
He thought he was going to die of pleasure… He lost control as he came, grabbing her head and thrusting himself violently down her throat. She swallowed gamely, and when he finally opened his eyes, still breathing hard, she was kneeling there smiling at him.
He could hardly believe it. She had just begged to be allowed to pleasure him. She'd begged him before, to gain her own pleasure or because he'd ordered her to, but this was different. He'd never have expected her to reach this stage of submission so soon. And he knew she'd been sincere. Even now, she was still grinning like he'd just given her a present.
What was it about this girl that she'd gotten under his skin so fast? To be truthful, he'd come home earlier than he'd planned, anxious to see how his little slave had fared in his absence.
He'd had to conceal a hard-on quite a few times throughout the day, every time he pictured her humping his fingers as she had this morning or the desperate, pleading look on her face when she realized he was going to leave her bound and frustrated. What a homecoming he'd gotten! And they still had all evening to spend together before he really ought to be getting her back to campus. They'd eat first—and then he had a few things he wanted to try.
Her Master hadn't said anything, and he'd only given her the briefest of smiles, but Marie knew he was pleased with her. She tensed just a little as he reached down and hauled her to her feet—grabbing her elbow this time, instead of her hair—surely that was a good sign.
He tossed her over his shoulder into a fireman's carry and headed for the stairs. Marie felt a little panicky as she realized that, with her hands bound by her neck, she had no way to break her fall if he dropped her, but his grip was firm and the feeling subsided. Now, as he entered the kitchen—the scene of her imprudence that morning—she just had to worry about what he would do with her next.
It seemed that they had both learned a lesson from that morning's encounter: when they reached the kitchen table he simply put her down next to his chair, lifting the table leg to secure the end of her leash as she took her kneeling pose.
He said not one word to her about cooking, and Marie allowed herself a small grin as she watched him preparing dinner. It was a simple meal; he steamed some rice and saut? a few chopped vegetables, tossing in some bits of cold chicken from the refrigerator. But he added spices like a master chef--a pinch of one, a sprinkle of another, tasting and nodding to himself.
The air began to fill with a deliciously complex aroma and Marie was forcefully reminded that she'd had nothing to eat since breakfast, unless she counted her Master's come. If she still had her ball-gag on, she knew, she'd be drooling all over herself.
As it was she simply swallowed hard, kept her position tight and her attention on him, hoping that her stomach wouldn't gurgle and embarrass her as it had that morning. Yet even though she was famished, not to mention ragingly horny, she became aware that underlying all the physical and emotional turbulence lay a very unfamiliar sensation: serenity.
Her needs were no longer her concern—her Master would take care of them in due time, and that's all she needed to know. She felt a contented smile creep across her face. Her smile only widened when she saw him reach down into a cabinet next to the stove and bring out a shining aluminum dog bowl.
She knew it was for her, and she brushed away the troublesome thought that it already been there and not purchased especially for her. Maybe he used to have a dog. Or maybe…no, she would not think about that. This moment—now—was all there needed to be. She gave him her most loving smile as he set the bowl, filled to the brim with steaming food, on the floor beside her before setting his plate on the table.
She followed him with her eyes and then her body, shuffling around on her knees to remain facing towards him as he pulled out his chair and sat. She gave not the slightest glance to her bowl of food—it was not hers until he said it was. When he was settled in place he turned to look at her, and to Marie it was obvious that he was pleased with what he saw: that his slave was simply waiting, giving him her complete and silent attention.
He actually beamed at her and caressed the side of her face with his hand, and Marie felt as though she would melt with happiness. After a moment he withdrew his hand and said, "You must be starving, princess. Please go ahead." "Thank you, Master," Marie replied, wishing she could kiss him just then.
She turned away and bent down to her bowl…and was quite pleased to discover that he had placed it so that while she ate she would be displaying her upraised ass and pussy for his pleasure. She began to eat. Marie's hands had reached out automatically to steady herself as she bent over the dog bowl, only to be jerked back by the chains holding them to her collar.
She was suddenly mindful of her discomfort again. She hadn't been able to straighten her arms for hours, now, and the urge to stretch her elbows was driving her crazy. Marie tried to focus on the food, which was fragrant and delicious and which she was eating way too fast, but her mind kept wandering.
Would he let her spend the night again? She could get all her homework done tomorrow, if she was diligent, and it would be totally worth it if he'd fuck her again tonight, and hold her like he had last night as she fell asleep. Before she knew it, Marie found herself licking the bowl clean. She'd scarfed her dinner down with undignified haste, and blushed rosily as she realized her Master had probably only taken a few civilized bites by now.
She really was just like his pet. Well, in for a pound.Marie thought, and shuffled on her knees over to his chair to lay her head on his knee. She held her breath, hoping for some sign of approval from him, and sure enough, a moment later she felt his hand resting lightly on her head. Another moment passed, and he stroked her hair. Marie felt her chest expand with happiness.
Several minutes later, he gently tugged on her hair to get her to sit up. He held a glass of water for her while she drank, waiting until she had finished it. He, she saw, was drinking from an expensive-looking bottle of red wine.
A few more minutes passed while he savored his wine, then he stood and retrieved a clean dishcloth, wet it, and came back to clean Marie's face. She blushed anew. She certainly hadn't been worried about keeping her face clean while she ate, she realized now. She was vaguely surprised that he did it silently, making no attempt to humiliate her further. Was that because he had more challenges in store for her later this evening? Marie watched as her Master performed only the most rudimentary clean-up of the kitchen.
Leaving the dishes for later didn't seem like his style, and she smiled to herself, imagining that he was in a hurry to play some more with her—his toy.
She wasn't far off, if she'd known it. The impromptu blow job in the bathroom might as well have never happened for all the difference it made to his cock, which was again hard as a rock. He deliberately kept the wine bottle in one hand while he freed Marie's leash from the table leg and led her into the living room. He knew from experience that if he had a few more swallows he'd be able to last a lot longer, and he definitely wanted to drag this next experience out as long as possible. Leaving Marie kneeling in front of his oversized arm chair, he set the wine down on the end table there and went upstairs to get a few supplies.
He was pleased to see, on his way back down, that her eyes hadn't strayed from the stairway; she was avidly watching for his return. The apprehension in her gaze was adorable, and as he sat in the chair in front of her he took a moment just to look her over.
Then he leaned forward and unlocked the chains at her wrists. He watched her eyes fill with tears as she tried, with excruciating slowness, to straighten her arms for the first time in hours. He let her struggle for a moment, then he reached for her hands, saying, "It's easier if you do it all at once"—and yanked her arms straight before she could react.
Marie gasped, but as the blood flowed freely into her stiff joints, she saw that he was right. She flexed her arms for a few minutes, unable to keep back a sigh of pleasure as the pain and stiffness eased.
She wasn't going to be relieved for long. "Turn around," he ordered suddenly, "and give me your hands." She obeyed, turning her back to him and holding her hands behind her.
He cuffed them together, then used a leather cinch he'd brought down on her upper arms just above her elbows, pulling it tight and watching her shoulder blades point out and her back arch, hearing her gasp.
He bent to unlock the short chain between her ankles then said, "Face me." Perfect. His little pet, arching her back to relieve the strain on her arms, looked as if she were presenting her tits for his pleasure. He was also surprised and pleased to see that she'd spread her knees apart after he'd unlocked them, and he could already see the telltale sheen of moisture on her pussy. She was panting, but whether it was from arousal or the pain in her bound arms he couldn't tell.
He leaned back in the chair and took a sip of wine, then said, "What did you think about today, Princess?" Her eyes flickered up to his--then she lowered them modestly. "I missed you, Sir," she said quietly.
He wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. "And did you like cleaning the house for me?" Marie only debated for a second—he'd know if she lied, she reasoned—but she couldn't look at him. "No, Sir." "Why not?" "It was—I was bored, Sir," she stammered. He could tell she wanted to add something, so he waited. "But—but I'll be happy to do it again, Sir, if you let me." "Why is that, Princess?" "Because I like…obeying your orders, Sir." Her voice nearly died at the end of her reply, but he was satisfied.
This must be the result of the epiphany she'd seemed to have in the bathroom earlier. Unquestionably, she'd been angry with him before he came home, but now she seemed to have come to a better understanding, and acceptance, of her role as his pet—all on her own.
However, it couldn't hurt to give her some additional encouragement. "And I like giving them to you, pet," he said, smiling at her. "You did very well today." He watched her face glow with happiness for a moment, then he brought out the nipple clamps. These were a different pair than the one she'd worn last night; they had a gentler bite, but came adorned with tacky pink plastic hearts that dangled on a thin, short chain about an inch and a half long. Remembering her face as she'd looked at the purple, heart-shaped paddle in the store, he guessed that wearing these would humiliate his princess more than wearing the plain ones had.
Indeed, she looked chagrined at the sight of them, but bravely maintained her posture, her chest still thrust towards him invitingly.
He took advantage of that for a few minutes, fondling and teasing, and she didn't flinch from him even when he twisted and pulled her nipples, although she winced and whimpered a little. He even slapped her breasts a few times, noting that they were just large enough to bounce when he did it. This was going to be great. Her face flamed as he attached the clips and she felt the dangling hearts brushing against the underside of her breasts.
He thought he'd never get tired of seeing that blush.
He jiggled her breasts, just to rub it in a little, then very deliberately removed his pants and boxers and leaned back in the chair. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his fully-erect cock, and she actually licked her lips, making him want to laugh. "Climb on, princess," he said, some of his amusement leaking into his voice. She looked at him like she wasn't sure he was serious, then stood up eagerly and way too fast. She teetered for a moment, throwing one foot behind her to catch her balance, then more carefully moved toward his chair.
He helped her, reaching for her waist and settling her over his lap, her knees balanced on the chair's seat on either side of him.
There was plenty of room for her legs on the wide seat, and she looked down into his face as she hovered there, leaning forward slightly to keep her balance.
Her pussy, visibly wet, was mere inches from his upthrust cock, and they were both breathing heavily already. "Two rules, Princess," he said, his voice rough with arousal. "First, you can come as much as you want—but you have to tell me, every time. Second, I want to see these—" he flicked the dangling hearts on her nipple clamps "—in motion. If they stop moving, we're done. And, Princess, break either rule, and I will punish you." He watched her shudder with desire at his words.
"Yes, Master," she said, her voice as hoarse as his. He gripped her hips and helped her lower herself onto him, inch by pleasurable inch. As their hips finally met, he felt her grinding against him, finally stimulating her clit, which had been aching all day to be touched. But, mindful of rule number two, she didn't linger there, but started to ride him, rising up on her knees, then sinking down and taking his whole length again. It was hard, because with her hands bound behind her, she could rely only on her leg muscles both for balance and to move over him.
Her tummy muscles clenched with her efforts to keep upright and not tip forward or backward. She'd only humped him twice when she suddenly threw her head back, moaning, "Oh, oh God, Sir, I'm going to come!" Her cry ended on a gasp and he felt her clench on him, felt the rush of moisture where their bodies were joined, and it was all he had not to come himself. "Keep fucking me—keep going, Princess," he rasped, restraining himself from grabbing her hips and setting his own rhythm.
She started humping him furiously as she rode out her orgasm, her head back and her mouth open, and he watched a fiery blush spread over her face and down her chest. She didn't seem to be breathing, but just as he was going to intervene, she sucked in a huge breath of air and slowed down slightly. The slower speed was almost better. He could have sworn she was clenching on him each time she rose up, her pussy squeezing every inch of him as if it were afraid to let go. He had no idea if she was doing it on purpose or not, but that, combined with the sight of the clamps bouncing on her chest, had him close to coming again within a few seconds.
He couldn't resist reaching up to pull on the clamps, and that set her off again, and as she started to come she cried, "Sir, oh, I can't help it, I'm com—" Again, she lost the end of her sentence as her whole body tensed in rapture.
It lasted even longer this time, and when it finally stopped he was gripping the arms of the chair in a desperate attempt to hold back his own orgasm. She didn't slow this time, but continued to fuck him rhythmically, at an almost frantic pace. She was putting all she had into it, slamming her pelvis down onto him with each thrust. Her whole body was covered with a sheen of sweat and her face was beet red.
Her thighs must have been burning by now, but she obviously had more in her. He wondered what some dirty talk would do to her, so he tried it, growling, "Oh, yeah, fuck me, you horny little cunt! You can't help yourself, can you? Such a dirty slut!" It worked—she howled as she started to come again, just barely managing to gasp out, "Com—coming!" before her pussy contracted like a vise.
He felt her squirting again and suddenly couldn't help himself any longer. He grabbed her hips and started slamming her down onto his cock himself, grunting as he neared his climax.
She had recovered somewhat and tried to urge him on, saying, "Yes, Master, I'm your dirty slut!"—and then she felt his hot load filling her, and lost herself again. He might not have seen it, so lost was he in the throes of orgasm, but that she lost her balance, tipping backwards as she closed her eyes against the surprising onslaught of pleasure. He had to quickly shift his grip to keep her upright, and even as he experienced his final shudders of pleasure, he was thinking of how much he'd enjoy teaching his slave a lesson about breaking the rules.