by T. Evans
The simple task of servicing him for a few unoccupied minutes during breakfast preparation was very comforting to Anita. She had always used her oral skills as a very directly sexual act, either with the intent of getting her partner off, or as foreplay. She’d never before sucked on a man just to give him a little bit of gentle pleasure and adoration without his orgasm being the ultimate goal.
When the timer on the oven went off, Anita was sorely disappointed. She had become quite fascinated by her exploration of this new aspect of oral service. Judging by Sir’s gasp as she removed her mouth from him, it was clear that he would have happily spent an hour or so sipping coffee while Anita slowly sucked him.
Anita gave him one more kiss before tucking him back into his pants, then kissed the tops of his feet. She stood up and recomposed her robe. “I shall have breakfast ready shortly, Sir.”
“Very good, Miss Rhodes.”
Sir ate his breakfast in silence, not looking at Anita. She found this very uncomfortable, for she’d become used to their more relaxed conversation they’d had at the kitchen table. She knew it was intended to remind her that she was needing to work her way back into his good graces after her transgression the night before. She kept her eyes either straight forward, or on his plate and coffee mug, ready to serve him more as soon as either emptied.
As he put his hand up to decline more coffee, Sir asked, “Where is the collar now?”
“I placed it on the small table beside your chair in The Playground, Sir.”
“Clean all of this up, and wait for me there. Fully unclothed, kneeling tall.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said. She had not finished her own coffee or breakfast, but immediately got up to clear the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sir go to his bedroom. He did not emerge while she cleaned up the kitchen, or while she undressed and went to kneel in front of his chair. The collar was still on the table where she’d left it.
Anita closed her eyes and worked on breathing steadily. She suspected she was in for a long haul on her knees, waiting for Sir. She wondered if he’d been able to figure out just how much she had hated his static endurance exercises the day before, so was giving her that as punishment for her indiscretion. More than the hated kneeling still, Anita found a greater pain in his absence from the room. Just like removing the collar from her neck, leaving her to kneel alone left her feeling empty and lost.
After the previous day’s tests, her knees were still sore from all the time she’d spent on them, and her leg muscles protested almost immediately and threatened to cramp. Yet there was another part of her that knew she’d been able to hold his positions for a very long time. He’d even complimented her on her discipline in that regard. That knowledge that she did have the strength and stamina to hold out made it physically easier than it would have otherwise been on the second day in a row. If only she did not feel so sharply separated from Sir, so cold, despite the fact that he kept the apartment fairly warm.
Slowly, without realizing she was doing it, Anita started to chant, “Sir. Wants.” to herself. It started to separate her from her awareness of the discomfort in her body, and to hold the sadness at Sir’s distance at bay. Before long, she had slipped into a light trance again, and lost all awareness of the passage of time.
Then a creak intruded into her awareness. A sound she remembered very well from the day before, the stretch of tight leather pants and boots on Sir’s body. Anita swallowed and let herself return to a full awareness of the room, which meant the pain in her knees, legs, and lower back came rushing back to her. She carefully kept her body still, though, so he would not see her flagging.
“Clasp your hands behind your head, Miss Rhodes. Close your eyes, and keep them shut.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, obeying his instructions. She heard him move toward the wall where he kept the floggers, canes, and whips. It took a great deal of effort to both keep her eyes shut, and to not even allow herself to turn her head in the direction of the small sounds he made.
When the first blow hit, it took her by complete surprise. Whatever it was should have made some noise as it cut the air on its way to snap sharply against her back. “Ow!” she yelped.
“Shut up.”
Anita just nodded her head. Whatever he’d just hit her with had given her a truly wicked bite, like being nailed by a wet towel in the gym locker room back when she was in high school. He laid several more bites across her back with it, each one causing her to hiss through gritted teeth as she inhaled or exhaled at the sudden, silent pain.
When Anita heard him start to walk around to the front of her, she tensed up despite telling herself desperately to relax. She’d learned the day before with the floggers that they hurt much less if she relaxed. Mercifully, Anita had been tensing her stomach and chest, not the front of her thigh where Sir landed the next strike. He snapped whatever evil tool he had a good half-dozen times on each of her thighs, then stopped.
Anita took a few steadying breaths and waited. When she was able to unclench her jaw, loosen her shoulders, and let out a calm sigh, Sir struck again, this time slashing the implement across her left nipple.
“Aaah!” escaped Anita’s mouth, and bent all the way forward, needing to take her hands off the back of her head to keep from crashing to the ground.
“Up!” Sir said.
Anita immediately straightened back up and put her hands behind her head again. She tried to steady herself, but her body reflexively flinched expectantly every couple of seconds.
“Hold still,” Sir said.
Anita pressed her eyes tightly together and ground her teeth. Her fingers were sore from how tightly they squeezed together behind her head. When the expected slash across her right nipple finally arrived, Anita crumpled forward again, but at least she kept silent.
“Up!” Sir said.
This time, he barely waited for Anita to get her hands behind her head before she felt a fresh, hot pain across her left nipple. She still kept silent and this time she twisted her torso, but didn’t bend. When he hit the right nipple again, Anita barely moved, but tears started falling down her cheeks. Sir gave each of her nipples one more stripe and she heard him walk toward the wall again. Anita desperately hoped he was just putting his tool up, and not replacing it with something even meaner.
A few seconds later, she heard him come up behind her, so close she could swear she could almost feel his thighs against her shoulder blades. She could definitely smell the rich scent of him mixing with the leather he wore. There was more creaking as he did something behind her, repositioning somehow. Anita kept repeating, ‘Relax,’ to herself, anticipating the worst.
It came in the form of a bare-handed slap flat on her left breast. With her nipple raw from the three blows it took from the stinging, snappy tool, the sudden pain was bad enough that it would have crossed her eyes if they’d been open. Naturally, he followed that up with a slap to the right breast. The second pair of slaps was even harder, and stung even more. It took everything Anita had to keep silent against it, and to not just double over and break down in tears.
Anita waited for a third blow to her left breast, but it never arrived. Instead, Sir hit the right one again, after which she heard him walk away from her. She was able to track the sound of his pants and boots out of the room, and he closed the door behind him.
As much as she hurt on her back, thighs, and nipples from the tool and the open-handed slaps, she found herself desperately craving one more smack. She had noticed that Sir was a very fastidious person, and he was always very symmetrical about what he did to her body. Whatever happened to the left side, the right got it as well. So she knew it was no accident that he’d skipped past the third slap on the left breast. He’d done it very intentionally, to leave her feeling uneven and lopsided, and it was working. Anita really wanted nothing more than to go into the living room and beg Sir to just slap the left breast and even her out.
The distraction was enough that she wasn’t able to
retreat into her trance state while she prepared to kneel again for an unknown amount of time. Anita was stuck with one breast dying for one more dose of hard pain, fully aware of every beat of her heart, every second that passed while Sir left her kneeling alone.
Her arms started to protest being held up with her hands clasped behind her head, but Sir had not told her she could put them back down. It didn’t take long for her to start wavering, and she worried she might lose her balance, or that her beleaguered leg muscles were going to just give out on her.
She swore she’d suffered through that position for a million heartbeats when she finally heard the door to The Playground open.
“You really do not like having to just hold still and do nothing, do you, Miss Rhodes.”
“I hate it, Sir.”
“You understand that is why I’m making you do it again.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Good,” he said, closing the door again.
Anita stubbornly resisted her body’s urge to droop. She straightened her back again, worked her fingers a bit to get some blood flowing in them again, but kept them clasped behind her head, tightened up her butt to steady her kneeling posture, and allowed herself to inhale deeply and let it out in a long sigh just once, before she started to concentrate on breathing steady and calm.
“I’ll say this for you, Miss Rhodes.”
Anita started at the sound of Sir’s voice.
“You are one stubborn little bitch.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said.
“Go draw us a bath. Not as hot as the shower. I don’t want either of us light-headed for what comes after.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, allowing herself to open her eyes for the first time in a very long while. The room was painfully bright after all that time with them shut. She was careful to look only at the floor as she stood and left. Once she got the water in the tub at the right temperature and running, however, she used the bathroom mirrors to really examine her body for the first time since she’d left her apartment the day before. Her breasts were pink from the slaps Sir had given them, and there were angry little welts crossing her nipples. She had similar marks, but longer and broader, across her thighs and back. Sir must have used some sort of whip to give her those. She also had lighter marks across her shoulder blades, faint lines that she assumed were from the floggers the day before. There were bruises on her shins from the torturous rope binding, but she could not see any similar marks anywhere else she’d been bound.
With one last look at the traces Sir had already left on her body, Anita shut off the water and walked to the door of The Playground.
“Your bath is ready, Sir.”
Sir had Anita bathe him, washing him thoroughly from head to toe, then he got out and invited her to take her own bath while he dried off. She would really have loved to heat up the water a lot and lay back for a long soak to ease her sore muscles, but she knew she did not merit that luxury. Not yet, at least. She also sensed that Sir expected her to be efficient about cleaning herself up, and she made short work of it. Anita even passed up a few opportunities to give him a little show or take a bit of extra time to scrub up in an alluring way.
As she stepped out of the tub, Sir told her, “Report to me in The Playground when you’re dried off and presentable again.”
Anita brushed her teeth and composed herself, then with a last inspection of her body and Sir’s marks in the mirror, she went to The Playground. After kissing the tops of Sir’s feet, she knelt tall for him. “Close your eyes, hands behind your head.
Anita did as she was told. Her heart nearly burst from her chest as she heard the metal hardware of the collar clink as he picked it up off the table beside him. She held her head high, keeping her hands clasped at the back of her head. Something hard and with a very masculine scent was suddenly in front of her. She opened her mouth and took Sir in, starting immediately to suck, playing her tongue all over his glorious cock.
“Take it as deep as you possibly can, and hold.”
Anita did her best to fight off her gag reflex as she worked to get as much of him into her mouth as she could. She hit a point where it was only by a tremendous effort of will and stillness, not even daring to breathe, that she could not take him even a tiny fraction of an inch farther. Her reward was feeling leather against the front of her throat. The sound of the strap sliding through the metal buckle was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. As Sir tightened it, Anita was barely able to hold her position. The pressure on her neck threatened to break the very uneasy truce she was keeping with her body’s desperate need to gag on the cock that she swore had to be halfway down her throat.
When Sir finally pulled back, Anita coughed hard and sucked in a desperate breath of air. She had started drooling down her front, but dared not take her hands off the back of her neck to wipe her mouth.
“What does this collar mean?”
“Complete obedience and compliance, Sir,” Anita said.
“If you give me reason to take it from you again this weekend, I’m going to beat you and bodily throw you out. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, still strictly holding her kneeling tall position with her hands behind her head.
Chapter Four
The change in Anita as Marshall buckled the collar on her was immediate and palpable. She immediately went for his cock again, clearly intending to enthusiastically service him by way of thanks for giving it back to her, but he had other plans.
“There’s a towel over there. Dry off again and come join me,” he said, tucking himself back into his pants and lacing them back up. While she did that, he went to his wall of impact toys. Anita approached, stopping a step behind him and to his left.
“What is your desire, Sir?”
“Tell me. Which of these toys have you met already?”
Anita pointed out the floggers he’d used on her the first day without needing to think back. She also pointed out the one he’d threatened to use on her if she ever needed severe punishment.
“I don’t think that’s what you used this morning, though, Sir. I think that implement had a single tip for striking, instead of many falls.”
“Correct,” Marshall said. “So, which do you think it was?”
Anita looked at the wall, letting her eyes linger over different options. “May I touch, Sir?”
“Yes.”
She started running her hands over the two whips, a couple of the riding crops, and the dragon tails. “Was it this one?” she asked, her fingertips on the heavy dragon tail, a wooden handle with a sheet of triangular leather wrapped in a spiral. It was weighty and stiff, and Marshall needed to put almost no effort behind it to give it a wicked, stinging snap.
“Yes, Miss Rhodes. Give it here.”
Anita handed the dragon tail to him and put her hands behind her head. “Front or back, Sir?”
“Front. I want you to see this.” He took a couple steps back from her, bent a bit at the waist, and give it a small wind-up and a gentle swing. With just a little flick in his wrist as it approached her thigh, the tip snapped right across the skin with a sharp popping noise. “This is why you never heard it coming. The weight means I don’t have to move it fast to make it really hurt.”
“I imagine it would be best for me to not merit a hard swing with it, Sir.”
“You are correct, Miss Rhodes,” he said, putting a little more speed behind it as he brought it across her other thigh. Marshall saw her clearly resisting the urge to jump at how much harder the second swipe bit her. “Put it back and select three other implements.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Anita took a moment to peruse her options, selecting a heavy and a light flogger, and a riding crop. She turned and knelt down so she could present them to him with her head bowed.
“Very good, Miss Rhodes. How are you feeling about your self-control right now?”
“How so, Sir?”
“Do I need to restrain you, or w
ill you stay where I put you.”
“I would like you to test my self-control, Sir.”
“Very good. Go to the cross. Lean back on it, facing me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Anita backed up to the cross, putting her ankles near where the lower rings for cuffs were mounted, and reached high to take the upper rings in her fingertips.
Marshall put one hand on her shoulder, and brushed the side of her neck with the other. He let the touch drift down her body, between her breasts, across her belly, almost down between her legs. He gave her a kiss on the shoulder, then went to the table behind the cross to take the heavier of the two floggers she had selected. It was made of caribou hide, tanned so it was soft and slightly spongy and stretchy. Somebody picking it up would assume it was a very nasty piece, being as heavy as it was, but the weight and the give in the leather meant it drove its force through the skin into the deeper tissues beneath.
He gave the flogger a few light swings across Anita’s thighs to warm her up a bit, letting the falls dance across the skin. A hint of a smile broke across her face as he worked her gently. His own experience, having put himself on the receiving end so he could understand what it was like, was that a light flogging with the caribou could actually be pleasantly warm.
Marshall went from the light sweeps to a Figure-8 pattern, keeping the flogger moving in a steady flow. He gradually upped the force he was using, and eased back from her, until he the tips of the falls were zipping rapidly across her skin. He also sped up with each pass, until he reached the limit of how fast he could go while still controlling the heavy toy. Once he maxed out, he took a full step back, brought his arm up and around the back of his head, and laid a mighty wallop across her leg.
The sound of the flogger hitting her thigh full force reverberated off the hard surfaces of the room, and Anita popped up onto her toes briefly. He wound up a second big swing at her other thigh, then set into a rhythm of a dozen or so quick swipes in the Figure-8 pattern, punctuated by a solid hit. The caribou was still fairly gentle, even when driven hard against a body, and Anita looked to be happily blissing out.
