by Rynna Cress
Her fingers found the soft bulge of his testicles, and she gave them a commanding squeeze. “We’ll see, won’t we? Now lean over the bed, with your ass in the air.”
Mackenzie nodded, already working to prepare himself for what was about to happen. He realized that he wasn’t afraid of the whip, or the strap-on – he was afraid of not being able to “handle” them, as Rebecca had put it.
He was afraid of failing her.
Determined to endure whatever was coming, determined to indulge his mistress’ whims, Mackenzie moved to the bed, set his palms down on the comforter, and leaned down. And there, just a few inches in front of his face, he saw it: his script, sitting open before him.
“I was just reading it again,” Rebecca said, tracing the tip of the whip down Mackenzie’s spine. “But something was missing. I think it was your voice…”
CRACK!
She brought the whip down beside her, enjoying the sight of Mackenzie’s fearful jolt at the sound. “Read to me, slave.”
Mackenzie took a breath, steeling his nerves, knowing very well that the next strike might be against his skin. At any moment, his body could literally erupt with pain. It was a strangely tantalizing thought, and Mackenzie felt a rush of adrenaline begin to course through his system.
“Interior, Claude’s Diner, Morning,” he began, picking up where Rebecca had left off. “The horrifyingly standard morning grind, with dutiful customers sipping coffee and picking at food. Yet shining out through the mundanity is AMELIA, 24, alone and uncontained by a tattered raincoat. With her bright red hair and indomitable, mischievous eyes…”
CRACK!
The whip landed squarely in the center of Mackenzie’s shoulder blades, a breathtaking blow that sent white-hot pain searing through every nerve in his body. He clenched his jaw, seething, but after a few seconds, had regained enough of his composure to continue reading.
“…she is an unbridled spirit in a world of limitations…”
“They’re all redheads,” Rebecca interrupted, musing out loud. “They cast that blonde actress in the first one, but still, in your scripts, the heroines are always redheads. Why is that?”
Mackenzie was still catching his breath from the whip’s strike, the pain still accumulating in the welt that was beginning to form. “I don’t know, Mistress…”
CRACK!
Another brutal shot landed at the base of Mackenzie’s spine, just above the panties. His knees wobbled beneath him, and he collapsed face-first into the bed a little, the mattress muffling his sobbing grunt of agony.
“Of course you know. Tell me. I’m an avid fan.”
Mackenzie straightened his legs, pulling himself back up before her. “I guess I… I need to want these women when I write about them. I’ve always been drawn to redheads.”
“Including me?”
Mackenzie couldn’t help but let out a single puff of laughter. “Of course including you. What do you think I’m doing here?”
CRACK!
“Watch your tone,” she said, cracking the whip beside him, causing him to flinch in anticipation.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, quickly falling back to an air of deference. “And yes, I’m… very drawn to you. I always have been.”
“Because I have… red hair?”
“You know it’s more than that.”
Rebecca arched an eyebrow. The words came out so quickly, so naturally, almost as if before Mackenzie had even thought about them. She smiled, pleased.
“Yes,” she said, bucking her hips forward, letting the tip of her strap-on tease its way against Mackenzie’s backside. “I know.”
Mackenzie closed his eyes, a dizzyingly helpless feeling of vertigo suddenly overcoming him. He was falling, and he didn’t want to stop. Something inside of him told him that Rebecca, no matter how harsh or strict her methods were, would never let that happen.
Rebecca tossed the whip aside and slowly pulled the panties down, uncovering the tight, slender curvature of Mackenzie’s ass. Instinctively, he spread his legs for her, and soon felt her hand massaging its way up from his groin, over his virginal hole. The sensation was cold and slick – lubrication, Mackenzie realized. Again, Rebecca smiled behind him, pleased to find not an ounce of resistance within her plaything. She couldn’t even detect his fear anymore – instead, there was only eager, willing devotion.
Mackenzie wanted it. He was ready.
Rebecca stroked the remainder of the lube over the dildo, then wiped her hands on a towel and tossed it aside. Grabbing his hips, she bucked in close, carefully positioning the tip of the dildo against his tender entrance.
“Beg for it,” she said, freezing it in place, just millimeters away from penetration.
Mackenzie swallowed, his throat dry. “Please, Mistress,” he moaned out, his midsection quivering with anticipation. “Do it.”
Rebecca clenched her fingernails into Mackenzie’s skin, pulling him in fractionally closer, the lubricated dildo beginning to exert pressure directly onto his asshole. “Do what?” she cooed.
Mackenzie swallowed a whimper, licking his lips. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Please.”
“You aren’t afraid?”
“I… yes Mistress, I am. But I want it. Please, I want it so badly.”
She tightened her grip and again bucked in further, allowing the tip of the dildo to enter him, his sphincter stretching around it, accommodating it. What other choice was there?
“Like that?” she moaned, ignoring his gasp. “That’s what you want?”
Mackenzie practically sobbed out his answer, his voice pleading with her. “Yes, Mistress! Oh, God…”
“It’s Goddess,” she said, bucking fully forward against him, the dildo disappearing up his surprisingly eager asshole. Mackenzie buried his face in the mattress, letting out a low grunt, bearing the discomfort as his ass expanded to acclimatize to this foreign violator. But there was more to his grunt than pure pain. There was something guttural and primal, something Rebecca recognized instantly. She wasn’t hurting Mackenzie, she was fucking him. The pain was simply a necessary part of a larger equation. As pained as his grunt was, Rebecca felt certain of one thing: Mackenzie liked it, even if he didn’t realize it yet.
Knowing this, she pulled back out, then re-entered him, thrusting deeper this time. Mackenzie’s grunt became more of an uncontrolled moan, as if she were literally pushing the air out of him, forcing the noise from him. Of course he liked it. He didn’t have a choice.
To Mackenzie’s surprise, there was relatively little discomfort with the second thrust. Somewhat accustomed to the sensation, he found that there was almost infinitely more for him to focus on – the throbbing contractions of his stimulated prostate, the gentle, tingling burn of his stretched sphincter, the cool, slippery sensation of the dildo against his warm inner lining… Without realizing it, Mackenzie slowly began to buck backwards against her, driving the dildo even further up his ass. Each additional centimeter seemed to magnify the opus of sensations to an exponential degree. He found himself craving all of it, even the pain, in greater and greater amplitudes. There was no more fear, not even fear of failure. Mackenzie simply wanted more, as much as she would grant him.
Behind him, Rebecca was happy to oblige. Reading her slave like an open script, she began properly fucking his primed ass, working the dildo in and out in a quick, steady rhythm, drinking in the sounds of his wails and moans like a good glass of wine. Giving his ass a proud, playful slap, she watched as he grew increasingly accustomed to the dildo, thrusting his weight backwards against it again and again, his mouth hanging agape, a thin stream of saliva dripping down onto the bedspread.
“Such a good little slut…” Rebecca purred, still mercilessly ramming the strap-on in and out of his ass. “My good little slut…”
Mackenzie moaned happily, then managed a loud, “Yes, Mistress!”
Deep inside, Mackenzie could feel a strange tightness between his legs, a simmering sensation of gentle heat building
at the base of his contained cock. It was his prostate, he realized, and the sensation was remarkably similar to…
“Oh, fuck…” he moaned out, the realization dawning on him. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…” Behind him, Rebecca pursed her lips and chuckled to herself. Such a naïve, helpless plaything. So much to learn. So much room to grow…
“Of course you’re going to cum,” she said pointedly. “But do you understand why you’re going to cum?”
Rebecca intensified her rhythm as the question hung in the air, burying the dildo all the way to the hilt and pounding her pelvic muscles into him with each thrust, sweat beginning to glisten on her forehead. Mackenzie gave another prolonged, overwhelmed wail, and Rebecca answered with another angry slap to his ass.
“I asked you a question, slave.”
“I… I don’t know, Mistress. Because… because you’re fucking me?”
Rebecca slapped his ass again, even harder. “No, slave,” she growled, her breath growing short as she put all of her energy into fucking him. “You’re going to cum because I want you to cum. And as long as you’re mine, that’s the only reason you’ll ever cum.”
The words landed just as Mackenzie’s orgasm began. He let out another long moan, his voice trembling and defeated. Combined with the ribbon after ribbon of hot cum dribbling out of the open tip of his chastity device, it was as if the last of his doubts were escaping him – he was Rebecca’s.
Rebecca landed a few final, decelerating thrusts as the Mackenzie’s elongated climax finished washing over him, a puddle of cum pooling beneath him on the bedspread. Pulling out, she paused to appreciate the sight of his now-gaping asshole as it gradually began conforming back towards its original diameter.
“Such a good boy,” she muttered, patting her slave’s backside. “Of course, this isn’t even close to my biggest dildo, but we’ll have plenty of time to train you, won’t we?”
Mackenzie’s murmur was weak, yet satisfied. “Yes, Mistress.”
Nodding to herself, Rebecca reached forward, grabbing a fistful of Mackenzie’s hair and pulling him back to his knees in front of the bed. “You made a mess of my bedspread,” she growled, pushing his face down into the hot cum. “Clean it.”
Mackenzie whimpered, finding his open mouth pressed down into the puddle before he even had a moment to think about it. But then again, thinking about it was pointless. Rebecca wanted him to clean his mess, so that’s what he would do. Pure obedience made everything simpler. So, focusing solely on the sound of Rebecca’s words in his mind, Mackenzie extended his tongue, lapping the cum into his mouth one lick at a time.
Satisfied, Rebecca stepped out of the strap-on, then climbed onto the bed, spreading her legs for Mackenzie to see. Her pussy was a thing of perfection, tight and delicate, with a rosy, neatly trimmed bush just above her clit. Mackenzie shuddered as he looked up at it, his tongue still submerged in his own cum. It seemed so close… and yet so far away... Rebecca grinned down at him as if reading his mind, then reached down and began touching herself, massaging her flingers over her clit in slow, firm circles.
“My turn,” she said, half talking to herself, an air of wicked delight in her voice. “You wish you could touch me like this, don’t you Mackenzie? You’d give anything to fuck this pussy. That’s why I have the power…”
Mackenzie moaned in response, watching helplessly as she began rubbing faster and harder, her breath quickening, her face growing red and flushed. “Wouldn’t you just love to bury your face between my legs, slave? If you behave yourself, maybe I’ll let you. Maybe I’ll make you drink my piss. Would a dirty boy like you enjoy that? I think you would…”
Mackenzie felt as if his cock might explode inside of the chastity harness. Seeing Rebecca touching herself like this, flaunting her body in front of him, emasculating him by denying him the right to make her cum, threatening to degrade him with her own piss… all of it was bringing her closer and closer to climax, and making Mackenzie crave another, a climax that he knew was only Rebecca’s to give. With his ass aching from a good, hard fucking and the taste of his own cum filling his mouth, Mackenzie knew he was exactly where he needed to be. He was in his place – Rebecca had put him there.
Rebecca’s toes curled. Her face twisted into a gasping grimace of ecstasy. Her shaking fingers clamped down on her clit. And then, as her orgasm hit its peak, she squirted, expertly letting loose a small fountainous spray of clear fluid that landed squarely on Mackenzie’s face and the bedspread in front of him, much of it dribbling straight into his open mouth. A stuttering, almost stunned breath escaped from him as he realized what had just happened.
“Good slaves who clean up their own cum get to clean up mine as well,” she explained, still catching her breath. Mackenzie eagerly licked his lips and began licking at the fresh wet spots on the bedspread, muttering out a muffled, “Thank you, Mistress,” in the process. Her taste immediately seemed to swirl with the taste of his own cum in his mouth, creating a savory, aromatic blend that coated his tongue in the most intoxicating way imaginable.
Rebecca smiled, content, and climbed out of bed to retrieve her bathrobe. When she returned, she paused in the doorway, folding her arms and watching as Mackenzie continued licking up her mess. He was still the same Mackenzie Bell she had always known – strong, cocksure, sexually impulsive, narcissistic… But there was something else now as well, a sort of saddle slung over the back of this wild colt. There was a sense of restraint that she had never seen in him before, a sort of deference that was completely becoming of him. She wondered if this might have been the secret to his intense attraction to her all these months – perhaps he had sensed her inner dominance, and craved her controlling hand. Maybe he had been right… maybe she was exactly what he needed…
“Stand up, Mackenzie,” she said. He obeyed, rising to his feet and turning to face her, the very picture of a slave.
“What now, Mistress?”
“Now you get dressed and get back to your life.”
The words landed like a baseball bat to the stomach. Mackenzie swallowed, confused. “I… I don’t understand,” he finally said. “I thought you and I would…”
Rebecca stepped in closer, gently touching her fingers to his arm. “It takes time, Mackenzie. I’ve done more with you today than I ever thought I would. I’ve broken some of my own rules being with you today. That can’t continue.”
Mackenzie tried to mask his sense of rejection, offering a mute nod. “I guess I understand,” he said. “For what it’s worth, today has been amazing. You’ve been amazing. I’m just sorry this is the end of it.”
Rebecca looked up at him, a coy smile beginning to form on her face. “I never said this was the end, slave…” Mackenzie cocked an eyebrow, and Rebecca lowered her hand, taking his encased cock in her palm. “One week,” she said, staring him straight in the eye. “I want you to go one week in chastity. You can do whatever you want, but I want control over your cock. Always.”
Mackenzie nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eye. Not even the thought of spending an entire week trapped in the device was enough to deter him.
“Of course,” Rebecca said, fingering the key that dangled around her neck, “if you decide that you can’t handle it, or that it isn’t worth it, I can understand that. The Marlas of the world can be quite tempting…”
Mackenzie started to speak, but Rebecca shushed him. “You call me,” she said, “any time. Day or night. I will immediately come and unlock you.”
“…But then I wouldn’t be your slave any more, would I?”
Rebecca nodded, handing Mackenzie a neatly folded pile of his clothing. “Wash up if you need to, get dressed, and be on your way. Think things over, the choice is yours. You can live your life your way, or you can live it my way.”
~*~
…ONE YEAR LATER
“More coffee, Miss?”
Rebecca smiled at the plain, mousy young server, holding her mug up for a refill. It was a beautiful, sunny Los An
geles day, the perfect day to sit outside at her favorite Italian café and read the trades over a bottomless cup of coffee, and perhaps do some people-watching over the top of her mug. It had been a good year for Rebecca Carlyle. With Ron’s blessing and support, she had been accepted into the agent trainee program, and had quickly found herself fast-tracked for a glamorous promotion. There was no more coffee-making or filing, no more tedious errands and never-ending phone scheduling. Rebecca was an agent now, complete with her own clients, her own assistant, a substantial pay raise, and one of the more exquisite offices ever doled out to a rookie at the firm, thanks to some string-pulling from Ron. After her dutiful service as his assistant, it was the least he could do.
She had taken to the position almost immediately, quickly amassing an impressive list of clients and showing a keen eye for emerging young talent. Her deceptively assertive business demeanor caught many off guard, and gave her a distinct edge during high-stakes negotiations. With a natural affinity for the business and with much hard work, she had, in just under a year on the job, established herself as a true asset to the firm.
So naturally, Rebecca felt as if she’d earned her occasional lazy morning at a coffee shop. Besides – given the fact that she was meeting with one of the client’s firms, she could always write it off as a business brunch.
“Did you decide if we’ll be eating anything?”
Mackenzie returned from the restroom and took a seat across from Rebecca. A year under her heel had been good to him. The subtle clammy pallor of decadence was gone from beneath his eyes, replaced with a healthy, refined sense of focus and purpose. He was, perhaps, Rebecca’s most significant accomplishment of the past year.
“No - we’ll eat later,” Rebecca said, the sight of the ‘day collar’ around Mackenzie’s neck bringing a smile to her face, as it often did. Intended to replace the blue leather collar she insisted he wear with something more appropriate for public display, it was simply a thin metal chain that dangled between the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. In place of a charm, there was a solitary, familiar key.
