In Her Service

My cunt was desperately sucking on her fingers, seeking a final stretch of closure from the most recent orgasm.

‘I can feel your pussy sucking my fingers like it was its favourite cock,’ she said, ‘but it is your mouth that should be sucking my cock dry.’

She pulled her fingers from my sopping pussy and pressed them to my lips.

‘Open up, little one, and taste your sweet cunt on my fingers. Lick them dry like the good little slut girl you are.’

I sucked on her juice-soaked fingers. I drew them deep into my throat and thrust my tongue in between each finger to make sure I had sucked off every bit of it.

‘Good girl,’ she said, ‘now go bring me my pants and pick up the clothes you so sloppily threw on the floor in your greedy haste to please me.’

I brought her jeans from the floor and turned to pick up my own pair that I had tossed next to them.

So absorbed was I in my task that I had neither seen her remove the belt from the loops of her jeans nor heard the soft whistle of the leather as it swung through the air in an arc toward me. It was not until I felt the sharp sting and heard the loud crack of the soft leather on my ass that I remembered that I had not told her about the dishes I hadn’t done that day. But she had remembered.

Remembered with a vengeance, apparently, from the feel of the sudden heat on my ass. I stood up and turned toward her with shock in my eyes.

‘I can see you thought I had forgotten, hadn’t you?’ she said.

I could do nothing but shudder.

‘Did you think I would forget with your little game that I gave you a task to complete and that you had completely disregarded my request today?’

‘N-no, I just …’

‘You just what? Don’t try to get yourself out of it now. You knew what you would get if you didn’t have them done today, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, Mistress, but I tried to explain …’

‘No buts!’ She cut me off. ‘None, that is, but yours. Now, get over here, put your hands up in the air and spread your legs out. Take your punishment like a good little girl. You don’t want to make this any worse than it already will be, do you?’

Numb, I walked over to where she stood, put my hands up over my head and spread my legs out in a solid stance.

She grabbed my wrists and held them together over my head so I wouldn’t be tempted to try to cover ass with them or to ease the pain in any way. Without warning she began the assault on my ass and thighs, all the while reciting my transgressions. I could do nothing but dance from one foot to the other while listening to the litany of my sins fall from her lips. I had not only not done the dishes, I had purposely disobeyed a direct request, refrained from telling her that I had disobeyed that same request, overstepped my bounds to demand that I be allowed to please her, plotted a seduction without asking permission first, come without asking permission, and stopped her hand from continuing to thrust into my pussy during the last orgasm because I had decided I was done. At this last sin she began a furious rhythm with the belt on my now fiery ass.

‘Whose pussy is it?’ she demanded.

‘Yours, Mistress,’ I managed between gasps of pain.

‘That’s right. And who decides when it comes?’

‘You do,’ I replied quickly, before gritting my teeth against the continued onslaught of leather on my ass.

‘And who decides when it has had enough?’

‘You do, Mistress!’ I sobbed.

‘That’s right. And until you learn that lesson you will sleep with your hands tied to the bed posts so you can’t touch your cunt at night when I am asleep. That way you will remember whose cunt it is! Do you understand me, little bitch?’

Yes. I did.

She placed my hands on the edge of the bed, forcing me into a prone position to continue the whipping. She then released the bottom part of the belt so that each swing brought it up under my ass to snap squarely on my now engorged clit. Each blow was torture to live through but afterward my ass instinctively rose up higher to meet each one.

Quivering and barely able to stand up, I sobbed, ‘Please, Mistress, forgive me. Please!’

Another rain of sharp slaps answered my plea along with her vicious demands of ‘Whom do you live to please?’

It was all I could do to gain enough breath to gasp ‘You’ in response.

‘That’s right,’ she said, ‘and who has the power to make you come or leave you right here right now with your ass on fire, your pussy soaked through, and your clit swollen and throbbing and begging for release?’

‘You,’ I said through clenched teeth.

I tried not to think about the fire that had since turned into a low intense heat in my ass and thighs and pussy. Blue fire, I thought. It looks harmless and beautiful but it was the most intense heat known to man. It could destroy you and leave you wondering what had happened. This is how I imagined my mistress now: deceivingly calm and beautiful.

This was how I best knew her: powerful and torrential.

Blue fire.

She tightened her hold on the belt now, so only a few inches of it was being used to whip me. Furiously, she lashed out and focused her energy on my clit alone. It was so filled with blood, I thought it would explode. Harder and harder she whipped my tender, swollen clit until I thought I could stand it no more.

‘Please, Mistress,’ I said.

‘Please what, whore?’

‘Please may I come? Please! Oh, Mistress, please, I am begging you,’ I cried in distress. I could feel myself slipping into the deep warmth of an oncoming orgasm and I pleaded again.

The heat in my clit was so intense, I thought it would spontaneously combust.

I knew in just a few more seconds it would explode without my consent.

‘Yes, little one, I feel you. I feel your clit so hard and on fire from me torturing it. I know that I have your clit at the end of my whip begging, aching to be released from its confines. I know that it is ready to come. And I am ready for it to come for me. Let your clit explode for me now. Come hard for me, little one.’

She reared back and swung the belt down for one final hard smack onto the centre of my clit, causing it to explode inside of me. That final blow shattered me into a thousand tiny pieces, causing me to fall onto the bed where I lay for long moments breathing in short shallow gasps for air.

When I was finally able to breathe normally again I stood up and looked around. Mistress was gone. She had taken her clothes with her to wherever she had gone. I bent to pick up my discarded clothes.

On my way to the kitchen to do the dishes finally, I passed by the bathroom and an odd gleam caught my eye.

She had written a note on the bathroom mirror for me.

I expect the bed to be made by the time I get home. Do you understand, little slut?

Oh, yes, Mistress, I understand; I understand perfectly what not to do.

The Perfect Mistress

Monica Belle