Quickies

WAY OF LIFE

“You’ve been a bad girl.”

My heart sank when he shut the bedroom door and locked it behind him. I couldn’t remember anything I’d done, but I was wont to run amuck, as he often said, and I did forget. Too spontaneous. Impulsive. That was me, and I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately, even if I couldn’t remember what I’d done. It was always the best way to start. “I won’t do it again.”

“Down.”

That was all he had to say, and I was on my knees, hands resting on my thighs, shoulders back but eyes down. He had taught me this. He had taught me everything.

The leash snapped onto my collar with a deafening click, one that my body instantly reacted to. My nipples hardened, my pussy throbbed. I was going to be punished, and although I knew I wasn’t supposed to like it, I couldn’t help the way I responded to him and the things he did to me. I tried, but I couldn’t help myself.

“You like my new toy, don’t you?”

Oh crap. Now I knew. He’d bought a large sex toy, one that had a saddle he made me get up on, with attachments that did all sorts of things when they slid inside of me. We’d used it once, and it had felt so good, that I couldn’t help trying it out myself. I thought I’d been careful. How had he known?

“I can smell your cunt.” He yanked the leash, lifting my face to his as he leaned in toward me, his breath hot. “Even when you wash it off, baby, I can smell you.”

I groaned softly as he pulled me along, and I crawled after him toward the machine, still sitting on the floor. I noticed he’d put a different attachment on it-

something fit for double penetration. I winced, but didn’t object when he lubed up the dildos and told me to climb on.

They were cold at first, and it was hard to maneuver just the right position to get them both to slide in, but I managed. There was a foot pedal controller, and he used it now, starting the motor purring, and I began to purr right along with it. The dildo in my pussy whirred softly, vibrating and turning at the same time. The one in my ass just vibrated, deep, making me moan.

“Suck.”

I knew what to do. I quickly released his cock from his trousers-he was semi-hard already-and worked him into my mouth. The machine buzzed between my legs and I whimpered, rocking, rubbing my clit along the surface.

“Dirty whore,” he murmured, thrusting deeper into my mouth. “You love having all those holes filled, don’t you?”

I flushed, but nodded, admitting my humiliation. I did love it. I did.

“Let’s try these on for size.”

I didn’t stop sucking as he pulled something from his shirt pocket, but I did gasp around the length when he attached a nipple clamp to first one, then the other. They stung, almost burning, and I writhed on the machine.

“Keep sucking.”

The surprise and pain had distracted me, and I went back to work, using just my mouth, the way he’d taught me, taking him deep, letting him fuck my throat when he

wanted to, following his lead. I saw his foot move on the pedal and the machine between my legs kicked it up a notch, making my whole body buzz alive with pleasure.

This was punishment? I didn’t think so.

“You’re not allowed to come until I say,” he murmured, running his hand through my long, dark hair. I nodded, gulping down his length. I knew that. It was always the rule. “No matter what I do.”

I groaned, understanding his mad method of tortured punishment now. My pussy was already on fire, and still, he pressed the foot pedal, taking me higher, higher. My nipples ached, every pulse sending waves of sensation down between my legs. I didn’t know how long I could stand it.

But he was the epitome of control, even with my hot, wet mouth working over his cock. He watched my face, every reaction, and adjusted the settings accordingly, pushing me forward, back, forward, back, until I thought I would go mad with longing.

“Master!” I moaned, pressing my cheek to his belly. I only called him that when we were here, like this, after he had ordered me down. “Oh please, please…” I begged him, needing that release just out of my reach, the one he held out for me like some dangling carrot.

“Not yet,” he mused, toying with the chain between the nipple clamps, tugging gently, making my hips buck. I groaned, gave in, submitted to his will and continued to fight the rising tide between my thighs. My whole body shook with the effort.

“Stroke me.”

I did, my hand moving fast, the tip of him wet, making it an easier slide. He gave a soft sigh, moving a little closer, aiming his cock toward my breasts.

“Are you ready, Jen?”

“Oh god yes please,” I begged, arching my back, eyes pleading. He tugged a little harder on the chain, giving it a steady tension, pulling. I gasped, feeling it right in my clit somehow, as the nipple clamps slid off, leaving my chest burning in their absence.

“Now,” he commanded, and I surrendered, my body wracked with my climax, shuddering and moaning with the final, blissful release. He thrust into my hand with a deep, determined grunt, splashing my aching breasts with his cum, burning my nipples with the heat. I cried out in pleasure and pain, completely his in that moment.

He turned off the machine and I whimpered, leaning forward on it, still shivering.

Then he undid my collar and told me, “Up.”

I went to him, whispering his name, “David, David,” over and over as he cuddled me in the crook of his arm and led me to the bed. We rested there a while, quiet, the room filled with the musky smell of our sex. God, I loved the smell of us together.

“So you like my new toy?” he inquired.

Flushing, I nodded, “I’ll say.”

“Perhaps you’d like to ask for permission to use it when I’m gone?”

Smiling, I nodded. “Yes. Please. May I?”

“Of course.” He kissed the top of my head, breathing in my scent. “All you had to do was ask.”

I bent my head, resting it against his heart, and submitted to his will. It was what I was made for, what I was born for. I loved it, and I loved him, beyond sex or words or

even life. He was my life, and I knew neither of us would ever have been satisfied having it any other way.