Stripped, Bound, And Flogged free porn video

Sir had taken his slave and slut, Marta, to a French bistro for supper. She wore a skirt that flashed her naked pussy whenever she walked, plus high heels, her dog collar, and wrist and ankle cuffs – and nothing else. She was seated at a banquette next to Sir, with her dress pulled up so she was sitting on her bare ass, and her pussy completely exposed while he fingered her.

While waiting for dessert, Sir turned on the vibrator in her butt plug, then ordered her to put an enormous dildo into her cunt, which was also set to vibrate. He then told her to masturbate there, in public, to prove once and for all that she was a filthy cunt and slut. She obeyed and made herself cum twice in full sight of the rest of the diners, who were unaware of what she was doing. She then was told to cum a third time when a complete stranger came over asked to watch up close. Marta, although mortified, forced herself into her third orgasm in less than five minutes.

Afterwards, when Sir and Marta were again alone, Marta found her thoughts unsettling.

Lost: Marta

Some of the nearby diners may have suspected that something was going on, but the dim light, the intervention of “Andromeda”, and the sheer audacity of it all enabled us to get away with it.

Before, I had chosen to be Sir's sex slave, and had wanted it badly. But something had changed during the multiple orgasms I had just experienced. While I was proving myself to be the filthy cunt Sir thought I was, something shifted inside of me, something way past my understanding.

I no longer had any choice about being his slave, his slut, his filthy whore. When he had ordered me to bring myself to the third orgasm, my hands had moved to comply on their own, without my volition. He owned me now, whether I liked it or not. And I was happy.

Sir turned to me, leaned over and fondly kissed me on the top of my head. “Thank you, my dear," he said. "I quite enjoyed watching you cum. You truly are a slut, and I’m pleased to own you. Good girl.”

I shivered so hard that I almost shook in my seat. Hearing that he was pleased with me sent a wave of warmth and joy through me. I felt incredibly grateful to him. I find that I am desperate to please him, and believe I will do anything do so. For the first time in my life, I believe I might be able to be happy.

Dessert: James

She leaned over, picked up my hand and kissed it, bowing her head over it in submission.

I knew that Marta must be tired, so when I saw Arthur, I signalled him.

“The dessert is almost ready, Mr. Gainsborough. Shall I bring it right out?”

“Sure, Arthur, please do, but please bring two small Cognacs for us first. I believe mademoiselle may need some fortification.”

“Right away, sir.” And he bustled off, returning shortly with the two balloon glasses with small measures of Cognac in the bottom.

“My lord, I hardly drink at all, and this evening…”

“I understand, Maria. Sip this a bit at a time. I think you’ll find it has restorative powers.”

She smiled, and looked languorous and spent, tilting her head back on the banquette. “I was going to add, Sir, that you really don’t need to get me liquored up to Have Your Way with Me. You can take me whenever you want, wherever you want, however you want me. Right here and now, if you’d like…”

And she ran her tongue slowly across her lips, one way on the top, then the other way on the bottom. She ended by holding up her middle finger, licking it from bottom to top, sticking it in her mouth, and then using it to make a “POP” sound that I hadn’t heard since I was a kid! She grinned, and looked – sleek and sated.

I laughed at the childishness – and blazing sexuality – of the gesture.

She went on, “That was – fun? Embarrassing? Excruciating? Mind-blowing? Amazing? Relieving? Exhausting? Satisfying?” She lolled her head back on the banquette, rolled her head sideways, slitted her eyes at me, and said, “All of the above?

“Do you think we could skip dessert, my lord? I’d really love for you to take me home right now and fuck me.”

Again, she was tempting me. I shook my head.

“Anton would never forgive me if I took you away now. And you will not believe how good this dessert is.” I rested my hand on her bare thigh. She spread her legs even more in response and smiled up at me, her head still tilted back. She looked like the veritable cat that swallowed the canary.

She straightened up slowly, then bowed her head, “As my lord and master wishes. Maybe you could fuck me before and after you flog me?” She ended on an up-note.

I felt myself hardening again. “We’ll see how you behave.”

“Sir, I will behave however you want me.” And she smiled.

I was rescued by Arthur’s arrival with the desserts. He arranged them in front of us, then took a spoon, used the back of it to poke a small hole in the molten middle of the crusty, round, chocolate cakes in front of us, then carefully poured warm, flavored crème Anglais into the holes until they were full. When he had done, he straightened up and said, “Enjoy!”

“Thank you. Arthur, Maria is feeling tired from her day’s exertions. Would you be so kind as to bring my bill so we can leave when we’re done?”

“At once, sir. And I’ll have the valet bring your car around as well.”

“Thank you, Arthur. As always, I appreciate your ability to anticipate our diner’s needs.”

He smiled, bowed, and departed.

Almost reluctantly, Marta picked up her spoon, and used it to cut a bite out of the lava cake. The crème poured slowly out. She finished cutting the cake, then scooped it up, getting both the crusty and melty bits, along with some of the crème, then raised it to her mouth.

Her eyes opened wide and her expression changed as soon as she put the spoon in her mouth. “Oh, my God. That’s unbelievable!” And she eagerly started eating the rest, only slowing when it was gone.

“That was almost as good as sex. Wow!”

I smiled and said, “Finish your Cognac, slut.”

“If you don’t mind, Sir, I’d rather let the lava cake be the last thing I taste tonight…”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“…until I get your cock in my mouth,” she finished, putting her chin on her hands and looking at me under lowered brows.

Now it was my turn to sigh.

The Ride Home: Sir

When we were finished, the bill settled, and my coat retrieved, we stood up to leave. I could see that Marta was more than slightly inebriated, partly by the alcohol, and partly by the satiety of having cum three times in quick succession. I wasn’t surprised, then, that when she rose from the table, her dress was not properly settled, and she was exposed from the waist down for 2-3 seconds – more than enough for people nearby to get an eyeful.

I moved over and took her arm, and picked up her clutch purse where she’d forgotten it on the banquette. She looked at me and gave me a wicked grin. Then she put her hands behind her and clipped her cuffs together, binding her arms. “I’m all yours, my lord. Do with me what you will.” I reached into her purse, found the remote, and set the butt plug to vibrate. She jumped slightly, then leaned over and kissed my hand.

I helped her to the front door, where Emile materialized next to us. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Monsieur James. And Mademoiselle Maria,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “please do come again.” With that, he bowed, and held the door for us.

We walked out into the cold night air. Marta straightened up and shivered, then moved closer to me. I took off my coat and placed it around her shoulders, and held it closed with one hand. The car was waiting for us, as was the valet, looking indecently eager for another peek at Marta’s cunt. He held the door open and stood aside.

Unfortunately for him, I had to help Marta into the car as her hands were cuffed behind her. I made sure the coat was underneath her, wrapped it over her, pulled the seat belt over and clipped it, then walked to the driver’s side. Along the way, I tipped the valet handsomely, and said, “Better luck next time, sport.”

Once settled, I drove out of the parking lot, and a short distance down the street. By now the car was starting to warm, so I pulled over and put the car in park.

I reached over, unclipped her seatbelt, and said, “Are you OK with your arms behind you and your tail beneath you? Is it too uncomfortable?”

She smiled and said, “A little awkward, but I love being helpless and under your control, Sir,” and she cast her eyes down, being deliberately provocative.

I opened the coat around her, leaving it underneath her, then lifted her skirt so that her pussy was exposed. She spread her legs.

I had her lean forward, and, with some difficulty, unclipped her dress at the back, and pushed it down her arms, pooling the dress at her waist so that her tits were exposed. Then I had her lean back again, re-fastened her seatbelt, put the car in gear and drove home. She was completely exposed to anyone who happened to look into the car, and helpless to do anything about it.

The Desperate Cocksucker: Marta

I hadn’t just locked my hands together in the restaurant to be impish – although that was part of it. I found myself with an overwhelming desire to be taken by Sir, to be roughly used, to be forced and fucked for his pleasure. I wanted to be vulnerable, helpless to resist, to be his fucktoy, with or against my will.

So, when he stopped the car, and unwrapped me, exposing both my tits and my cunt, then locked me in position with the seatbelt, I was more than ready. I was wet again, and found my excitement growing.

I actually found myself disappointed that we didn’t encounter anyone to see me naked on the way home, and felt an irresistible urge to kick things up a notch.

When we got back to the garage, I said. “My lord, if you will indulge me, would you unlock my hands, please?”

“OK. May I know why?”

“You will, Sir.”

He unfastened my seatbelt, then helped me out of the car, turned me around and unclipped my hands.

I shrugged off the coat, grabbed my dress with both hands, pulled it up over my head, dropped it into the car, then put my hands behind me and locked my cuffs together again. I was now naked except for my collar, cuffs, and red high heels. And my cunt was actually dripping.

With difficulty, I knelt down in front of him on the cold concrete, then bowed forward so that my head touched his feet. “Please, my lord, I beg you to take me as your fucktoy.” I lifted my ass slightly to make it more prominent. And waited.

I could almost hear his cock stiffen. He cleared his throat, reached into the front seat and grabbed my clutch purse, closed the door and locked the car, then grabbed my hair, and lifted my head up. I was still on my knees, naked before him, but now he was forcing me to look into his eyes.

“I will,” was all he said. I shivered.

He pulled my hair further, forcing my body up so my torso was vertical, but still on my knees, then unzipped his fly, and pulled out his cock. I opened my mouth to receive it, but he grabbed my hair again, and held my head far enough away that I couldn’t reach it. I strained forward, with my tongue extended, squirming towards his cock. He kept me away, and said, “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening, but now…well, I love watching you pant for it, especially with the prospect of someone coming along to see you, desperate to suck my cock in public, like the dirty whore you are.

“Beg for it, cunt, beg for my cock.”

“Please let me taste your cock, please cum in my mouth. I promise I’ll swallow every drop, I’ll lick you clean, I’ll kiss your balls, anything! Please, Sir.”

“Slut.”

He slowly allowed me to move my head closer so I was finally able to lick the pre-cum off his tip, then wash around the tip, and finally, get the head of his cock in his mouth, but not a firm lock on it.

By now, I was panting, while straining against his hand was hurting my hair, my knees hurt on the cold concrete, and I found I was truly was desperate to take all of him down my throat.

“Please,” I panted, “please!”

Finally, he let me move forward until I had him in my mouth. I forced myself forward until his cock was lodged hard against the back of my throat, and I was gagging and choking. I held still, continuing to gag, and moaned, which set up a vibration in his cock. It jerked in my mouth, so I moaned louder while I rubbed my tongue around the bottom of his cock. Tears and mascara started running down my face.

Then he pulled my head away, dropped me back down onto the concrete, pulled his cock back, and zipped up his pants.

I almost sobbed. I felt he had denied me. I hated his self-control at that moment, and wondered what he had in store for me next.

I stayed bent over, coughed several times, felt the tears dropping from my cheeks, and yearned for him to abuse me.

Then he lifted me to my feet by one arm, with some difficulty because of my heels, picked up the coat, slung it over his other arm, and walked me, naked and bound, to the elevator, and pushed the button. My heart was still pounding, and I found that my cunt was pulsing. I felt truly, irretrievably horny and wanton, and eager for more.

The elevator chimed, the door opened, and the car was empty. We got in, he pressed the button for the penthouse, and the doors closed.

Only to open again at the lobby level, where someone was waiting to get in. A middle-aged man looked up, saw me, and stammered that he’d catch the next car. I nodded, spread my feet farther apart, and smiled at him. I don’t think he registered Sir at all.

When we got to the penthouse level, the doors opened, but there was no one there. We walked to his condo door, he unlocked it, and we went in. He turned around, hung up his coat, locked the door, then took me by the arm into the bedroom. He reached into the clutch purse, retrieved the remote, and shut off the vibrator. Putting down the purse, he turned me away from him, and pushed me, indicating that I should bend over and spread my legs.

Once I’d done that, he gently pulled the fox tail and butt plug out of my ass. “Don’t move,” he said, leaving me bent over with spread legs and my tits hanging down, and took the tail away. I heard water running for some time. Then he came back, stopped, and looked at me.

“I’ve decided to give you something slightly different than your wish.”

“Sir?” I asked.

“I’m going to flog you before and after I fuck you, instead of the other way around.”

“Thank you, my lord.” I felt my cunt stir, and I shivered again.

“Stand up.”

I stood, and he took me by the arm and moved me so I was facing the bed, but a short distance away from it. He unlocked my hands, then said, “Bend over, and grab your ankles.”

I did as he asked.

He moved down and locked my wrists to my ankles. Then he straightened up, went into his closet, and returned with a black, metal bar with clips on each end that was about three feet long. Kneeling down, he clipped one end of the bar to one ankle cuff, then ordered me to move my other foot and ankle further apart, and clipped the other end of the bar to the other ankle.

I was now unable to move, bent over, with my ass and pussy completely exposed. My head was hanging down, and I was looking away from the bed, towards him. I was helpless to stop him from doing anything he wanted. Which was exactly what I wanted. I started breathing harder.

Then he went into his closet and returned with his new toy.

He knelt down, and showed me the flogger.

“Meet your new friend. You’re going to become intimately acquainted.”

I looked at it, then whispered, “Yes, please.”

He stood up, and dragged the strands of the flogger over my ass. It was suede, and felt sensual against my skin. I shivered again. Then he changed direction, and drew it slowly up my swollen pussy lips. It felt both soft and obscene at the same time. I started to shake.

“How many lashes are you getting, slut?”

I thought quickly, and said, “Twenty-one, Sir”

“And how did you arrive at that?”

“Fifty lashes for not asking to go to the toilet properly, less 14 lashes for waiting fourteen minutes until I excused myself. Then reduced another fifteen lashes because I came three times while masturbating in public. That’s twenty-one, my lord.”

“Correct.”

Then he stood up, raised his hand and lashed the flogger against my right butt cheek. I cried out, mostly out of surprise, although it did genuinely hurt.

His voice was iron when he said, “You forget your place, cunt. You are forbidden to make any noise when I hurt you unless I allow it. For that, you get another twenty lashes.” And he raised his hand higher and lashed my left cheek much harder. My body jerked. That hurt! It actually burned, unlike the first stroke – yet, I found myself yearning for more. I bit my lips and was silent.

Then he lashed me, much more softly, but upwards and directly on my cunt. I jumped, and almost fell over. He put a hand on my back and steadied me.

“Count – out loud – slut.”

“Sir! That was three, sir.”

He continued to lash me in a random pattern so that I never knew what to expect, on my ass, down my legs, inside my thighs, and, more softly, directly on my cunt or on my asshole. He also paused between lashes, sometimes for a long time, and sometimes not at all. I found the pauses harder to endure than the stokes themselves, waiting, waiting, never sure where or when he would strike.

I had counted up to twenty by now, sobbing as I counted, and had moved into a dreamy state of acceptance, embracing the pain, and feeling its rightness. I felt an enormous sense of gratitude to my lord and master, and hoped he would keep thrashing me.

But the pause stretched and stretched.

I shook my head, and opened my mouth to say something. Then I noticed that he had moved directly behind me, and felt his cock pushing at my cunt lips.

“Do you want my cock, slut?”

“Please, Sir, very much.”

“Then beg for it. Make me believe you want it.”

“My lord, you own my cunt. It is yours to do with as you wish. I beg you to fuck me, fuck me hard. I am a dirty slut with a hot, dripping cunt, and want you to shove your cock into me, ram it in. Please, Sir, fuck me until my knees collapse, until I can’t take it anymore and beg you to stop, until my cunt oozes with your cum, and you let me suck your dripping cock. Please, my lord, please fuck me!”

And he did. He rammed his iron-hard cock into me. I almost cried out, but remembered I was forbidden to do so, so clamped my mouth shut, although my body jerked with each stroke.

He was fucking me slowly, pulling almost all the way out each time. I started begging him not to leave my cunt, to keep fucking me, and he did. Each time he entered me, he would ram it into me hard, as far as he could, pulling on my hips to lever himself harder and farther into my womb, then push and pulse his cock hard up against my cervix. When he pulled himself out, he would also rub, slap, or squeeze the areas where he’d flogged me, which increased the sensations I was feeling, and made me squirm with pain. He kept this up for some time, then withdrew completely.

“Oh! Please don’t leave me. Please fuck me, Sir. I want to feel you inside my cunt, I need you to fuck me. Please, please!”

Instead, he knelt down and offered his dripping cock to my mouth, but it was tantalizingly out of reach. I strained forward but could not stretch that far because he was on the far side of my bound legs.

He put his hand behind my head, and pulled it towards him, tilting it up slightly to make it reach. I was able to get most, but not all, of the head of his cock in my mouth, and licked and tongued it as best I could, making slurping noises as I couldn’t get enough of it in my mouth. Saliva and cunt juices were running down – or up – my face, but I kept at it, until he finally pulled his cock out, stood up again, and rammed it home into my cunt again. I felt intensely humiliated by the juices running down my face, and it truly excited me.

This time he started out fucking me fast, then kept getting faster, but always ramming himself in all the way to the hilt each time.

Fucking the Slut: Sir

I was already rock hard when I started flogging her, but watching her ass, legs, and pussy lips blossom with faint, red stripes as I whipped them got me even hotter, to the point where my cock was dripping pre-cum.

I made her count, deliberately avoiding a pattern in order to heighten the pain. Even just thinking about hurting her caused me to harden – I was truly getting off on making her hurt. The dark troll had taken control of me, particularly as she was getting off on being hurt. I had work hard to hold myself in check. I badly wanted to hurt her, but I knew I could also damage her if I flogged her too hard.

When we reached twenty, I stopped, breathing hard, but didn’t tell her I was stopping. After a long pause, she stirred and I could tell she was about to ask me, so I put my cock up against her cunt, and forced her to beg me to fuck her, then almost came when she did. She was good at talking dirty, almost as good as fucking.

Then I started fucking her, which was something I had been wanting to do since I first drove up to her condo building that evening. My God, she had been a slut for sore eyes! And when I saw her fox tail, I almost lost it.

But I knew that the longer I delayed, the more exquisite the pleasure would be.

I remember reading, long ago, that the biggest sex organ in the body was the brain, and I absolutely agreed. I thought that men who took drugs to get stiff either had no imagination, or weren’t reading the right erotica. As a result, I viewed cumming much as I viewed hitting a home run: it was amazing and satisfying, but it wasn’t the only reason you went to the ballpark.

For that reason, I went slowly when fucking her at first, though it was difficult. I wanted to fuck her hard and fast, but knew I wouldn’t last more than a few minutes if I did. Instead, I fucked her slow and hard to increase the sensation, to inflict maximum pain on her as I did so in a manner I thought she would crave, that I certainly craved, and to prolong the agony and excitement as long as I could for us both.

But I found that she had me so close to cumming, just by the way she had flaunted herself and teased me all evening, even as I was teasing her, that I was not going to last long at all.

To try to stretch things out even further, I withdrew, despite her pleas, and knelt down in an attempt to disrupt my rhythm, and have her suck my cock. It was awkward, and not entirely satisfying, which suited me fine. It both gave me time to slow myself down, and to further humiliate her. By the time I was done letting her suck the tip of my cock, saliva, cunt juice, and pre-cum were dripping down her face, demeaning her, and literally rubbing her face in the fact that she was my cum slut.

By now, my balls felt hard and heavy, and my cock seemed eager, so when I stood up and shoved my cock back in her, I found I was no longer in control. I had held out all evening, but now my cock took over, and in the matter of a few – very few – minutes, I was spurting what felt like gallons of cum into her, while experiencing a stunning, shattering orgasm that almost made me faint. And it must have triggered her, too, for I felt her cunt spasm around me, and milk me of my cum. She gave a series of deep, throaty moans, which quickly ran up the scales to a high-pitched scream of orgasm.

Cumming: Marta

I found myself trying to push into his pile-driver thrusts, for I found the way he was fucking me intoxicating. It was almost as if I were in someone else’s body, someone who felt things that I never had, who lived a much more vivid existence than I ever had. It felt fucking wonderful, and I loved it.

And when he started to cum, his cock throbbed within me and I instinctively gripped him with my cunt. Feeling his hot cum spurting into me pushed me over the edge, and to my astonishment, I came for a fourth time that night, something I had never even dreamed about, let alone approached, before.

The pain multiplied my excitement. I truly felt as I had before: as if I were out of control, not just of my body, but of my spirit. James possessed me in a way I couldn’t define, but which made me feel entirely alive like I never had before.

My heart opened, and I felt owned by him. I wanted to be owned by him, to be kept on a chain leash with a steel collar around my throat, and made to grovel at his feet, and used for his pleasure. I wanted him to use me this way, even though by now I was thoroughly exhausted.

I adored him.

After the Storm: Sir

I collapsed forward onto her, but had just enough presence of mind to hold back. I knew she was at least as tired as I was, and if I dropped all of my weight on her, it could well cause her to collapse, which, given how she was bound, might well harm her.

After a few minutes, I withdrew, and collapsed on the floor next to her.

She was quivering with exhaustion, but she said, “Please, Sir, unbind me so I can lick and suck your cock clean. I beg you, please let me.”

Fighting exhaustion myself, I unfastened her arms and legs, removing the spreader bar. She collapsed on the floor, then pushed herself up, and crawled over to me. I rolled over onto my back, and propped myself up onto my elbows and spread my legs to watch.

She put her hands behind her and fastened her cuffs together again, then deliberately nuzzled my cock, getting even more cum and cunt juice over her face and hair, then finally capturing my softening cock on her mouth.

She proceeded to lick and suck my now re-awakening cock clean – and I loved it. I loved watching this gorgeous, brilliant, arrogant woman reduced to a filthy, begging slut, driven by her own lust to do dirty, demeaning things that she would remember with shame – and longing.

The troll in me forced me to pull my cock out of her, wipe it across her face, spread the cum over her face with my hand, grab a handful of her hair and wipe my hand and cock in it, then present my cock to her mouth again and watch her suck it in, moaning. She was grinding her legs together, trying to get friction on her clit at the same time, but with little success.

Finally, I pulled my cock out of her mouth, grabbed another handful of her hair and used it to wipe off my cock, then scrambled up. “Get up,” I said, but made no move to help her.

She rolled onto her knees with difficulty. She was exhausted, she had cum dripping out of her cunt, and cum spread over her face and hair.

“Get up!” I repeated.

She slowly levered herself up until she was finally standing again, quivering and panting hard.

“Tell me what you are.”

She cast her eyes down, and very softly said, “I’m a slut, a cunt, and a cocksucker.”

I put a finger under her chin, lifted her head until she was facing me, and said, “Again.”

“I’m a slut, a cunt, and a cocksucker, my lord.”

“And who does your cunt, your mouth, your body, and your ass belong to?”

“They belong to you, my lord.”

“And what can I do with them.”

“Anything you want, my lord. Anything at all.”

I reached out and grabbed her right tit in my hand and started to squeeze it, firmly at first, then steadily harder.

She squirmed, and started breathing hard, moaning, but kept her mouth clamped shut, afraid to even murmur in protest.

Keeping hold of her tit, I reached down and forced two fingers of my other hand in her soaking cunt, shoving them far inside her. She grunted and bent forward, then straightened up and spread her legs farther apart, cleared her throat, then said, “Anything at all, my lord.

“Green. Light,” she said very distinctly, and looked up directly into my eyes. She looked frightened, but also defiant, exalted, and excited. Her breathing was shallow and quick, almost panting.

I let go of her tit and cunt, wiped my fingers on her tits, then turned her to face the bed, then grabbed her bound hands, and lifted them high above her head behind her, forcing her to bend forward. I kept going until her arms were well past vertical, and the crown of her head was pressed firmly on the bed.

Awkwardly, I reached down and picked up the flogger.

“Spread your legs further apart, cunt.”

She did, awkwardly shuffling first one foot, then the other, farther away from each other.

“We were at twenty. We’re going for forty-one. Count, slut.”

And I slashed her hard across her right cheek again.

“Twenty-one, Sir.”

I kept going, varying the locations, intensity, and pausing for varying time intervals, making sure to snap her cunt lips and between her ass cheeks regularly, but not hard. In fact, I started easing off on the intensity that I used after the first few strokes. I did not want to harm her. I only wanted to sear her flesh a little.

By thirty-two, she started to cry. By thirty-eight she was sobbing, but continued to count, not struggling at all.

“…thirty-nine…forty…forty-one!”

“Do you want more, slut?” I waited.

She was sobbing and breathing hard by this time, and took a long time to answer. I waited.

“My lord, my body wants you to hurt me, but I’m exhausted. I’m not sure I could take it. Please, Sir, may we continue tomorrow? Please?”

“Red light?”

She was quiet save for the sobbing, then, “No, my lord. I want you to go on hurting me. But I’m afraid I’m going to collapse. Forgive me, lord, I humbly apologize for failing to please you. Please forgive me.”

I released her hands, and helped her straighten up, which she did very slowly. I unclipped her hands, and helped her lie flat on her stomach on the bed.

“Lie still, my precious slut. You are my good girl, and you were wonderful. You did not fail me in any way, but pleased me greatly. Now rest, and I’ll be right back.” I turned her head towards me and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. She was breathing hard, and too tired to do more than merely move her lips in response, but there was peace on her face.

I went out to the kitchen, and quickly came back with a bowl of ice and a clean, cheesecloth dishtowel. Wrapping some of the ice in the dishtowel, I gently placed it against her ass. She winced and jerked slightly, then relaxed. I dabbed the towel gently over the areas I had flogged, with the ice melting, and making a liquid lubricant that made it easier to then slide over the affected areas.

When I had iced the flogged areas, including her labia, I patted them gently dry, then took the ice and towels back to the kitchen, and returned with some antiseptic, anesthetic cream and gently applied it to her. By this time, she was asleep, which was not a surprise.

I got the keys from my office, then gently unlocked her collar and cuffs, placing them by her side of the bed, along with high heels.

I went to the head of the bed, pulled the covers back, then, as gently as I could, lifted her into bed, positioning her on her stomach, with her head and upper chest propped up on a pillow and with her left arm draped over the pillow, and her head turned towards my side of the bed. I very cautiously laid the covers over her, turned out the light, then went to get myself ready to sleep.

When I did get into bed, her breathing was even and deep. She was well away. I leaned over and lightly kissed her on the forehead, then retreated to my side of the bed, and lay back.

I was astonished by this woman. She had reached inside me and snagged feelings out of me I had barely suspected existed. She had amused and engaged me. She intrigued and excited me. She fascinated me in ways that no one had ever done before.

Part of it was pure sexual infatuation and excitement. Leaving everything else aside, just looking at her and knowing I could have her whenever I wanted, and however I wanted, made my cock start to cream.

Part of it was some kind of latent hostility, and I was using her – literally! – as a whipping boy, working out deep antagonisms and frustrations that had long been buried inside me. That clearly was not fair to her, yet she seemed to have complementary latent feelings that she was working through, and I was a conduit for those.

And part of it seemed primeval, some kind of masculine dominance thing that modern society often pretended didn’t exist, but which probably accounts for why men were many times more violent that women.

And on her side, there was a desire for submission, which existed not just in women, but often occurred in men as well. This was a complex thing, for it controlled by ceding control, it set the terms of what was permitted, and how much, and so dominated by groveling.

It was also a surrendering of control as a means of escaping responsibility, to turn control over to someone else, and then float, free-riding as it were, on their acceptance of that responsibility.

And there was much more. This was an incredibly textured relationship, and there were many aspects of it I did not yet understand, and perhaps never would.

But I did know one thing for certain. I was falling desperately in love with this woman.

And with that, I slept.

**

It wasn't until much later that I realized how my affection for Marta, and her devotion to me, had saved me, my company, and, ultimately, my life.

To be continued…

© Copyright, J.L. Gainsborough, November 2020.