by Aileen Rose
I almost feel the tip of his penis touching my throat. That is as far as I can go. Seeing my reluctance as to what to do next, he grabs my hair with his hand in a ponytail and slowly moves my head, so that his cock moves in and out of my mouth.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I want to touch myself so bad. My hand cups my breast in an effort to yield myself some kind of relief.
“No, bitch. You are not allowed to touch yourself when you satisfy me. This is only for me.”
Someone is being selfish. I am hurt, but I keep on taking him in my mouth. He has the complete control of course. As always.
Just before his climax, he yanks my head backwards and pulls out of my mouth. With his hand, he provides himself the last slides that lead him to an ardent release. A thick, white fluid erupts from the tip of his penis and lands on my breasts. It tickles down my stomach and belly. I don’t like this at all.
“As this was your first time, I didn’t let you swallow it,” he says, “but you will have to learn. I’d love to come in your pretty mouth.”
This keeps on getting better. Just when I think there is nothing worse, there he goes telling me I have to learn to swallow his sperm. I frown at the thought of it. There are some boundaries to what I can do.
“In fact…” he smirks devilishly, “I want you to put some on your finger and taste it now.”
“No.” I protest. This a lot for me. Doesn’t he understand that he has already done to me more than I can take? Why does he push me so much?
“Are you disgusted by me, bitch?” He is angry. “I wasn’t disgusted by your little cunt yesterday. Don’t you think you are being rude?”
I open my mouth to protest, but he stops me.
“I take this as disobedience. Do you want to be punished?”
I feel like crying. I definitely don’t want to be punished. He grabs my chin and forces me to look in his fiery eyes.
“Tell me. Do you want to be punished?”
I can no longer contain the tears that burn my eyes and I let them escape down my cheeks.
“No, my Lord.”
“Then, obey.”
I take a small quantity of the white liquid on my finger and bring it to my mouth. It’s rather salty and slick.
“Good bitch,” he rewards me but his good words make me feel even more humiliated. I didn’t want to do this and I don’t deserve any reward.
“Go wash yourself in the lake. Take a towel with you. When you return, you can sleep on the bed with me.”
As if I care…I am offended and angry. I would prefer to sleep on the floor right now. Anywhere but close to him.
Fortunately, when I come back he has fallen asleep. I ponder sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace, but I am conscious that he will consider this as disobedience and I really don’t want a punishment right now.
I lie on my side, facing away from him. He moans and brings me closer to him, clinging his warm body next to me. My emotions are all over the place and I have to vent somehow. Silent sobs thrill my body.
“Baby…” he mutters half asleep, “why are you crying?”
He has never called me ‘baby’. I don’t offer him a reply. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I sob so hard that I can hardly breathe.
He turns me around and looks at me with concerned eyes.
“What is it, my bitch?” he says gently.
There we go. Back to the ‘bitch’.
I quiver and wipe the tears from my eyes.
“I…I…” is all I manage to say.
“I know, I know, baby. I pushed you too much, didn’t I?”
I nod like a whiny child.
He takes me in his arms, capturing my body tightly, making me feel safe. He kisses me softly on my lips.
“Don’t cry, baby. Not for me. Please, don’t,” he begs.
His kiss is comforting, taking my pain away. I am not alone in this. We are together. Our kisses turn more passionate, as the variety of my emotions is so intense that I can’t control myself.
He climbs over me and slowly fills me. He never abandons my mouth. This time it lasts longer than any other time we had sex. He caresses me, whispering sweet words in my ear and looking at me in adoration. I give myself totally to him. We are one.
When we are both satiated, we cuddle and I pretend I am asleep. There is something disconcerting in my mind that won’t allow me to sleep. The realization that this man has become necessary to me. That I feel things for him that I haven’t felt for anyone else.
Chapter 8
The most beautiful way to welcome a new day, is with a kiss on the back of your neck.
"Wake up, bitch," he whispers and his hot breath on my skin makes me shudder.
I stretch my arms lazily. It would be great if I could stay all day in his arms, reveling in his smell and his sweet capture over my body and soul.
This is an order though and I know what the consequences will be. Besides, what will I respond if he is curious about my reluctance to get up? I'd rather not reveal my feelings at the moment.
What feelings, Calista? Don't be stupid. You act like your lovestruck girlfriends. You are not like them and Conor definitely doesn’t resemble the typical men of your social circle. You have no feelings for him, Calista. He opened a new, enchanting world for you, mesmerizing you. That is all there is. Nothing more.
I get up heading to the closet to find a new pair of panties and a dress.
"Where do you think you are going?”
He lies on his side, with his hand supporting his head and stares at me with a stern look.
"To get dressed, my Lord."
"Did you ask for my permission?"
"No, my Lord."
"So?"
I sigh, suppressing an urge to roll my eyes.
"Do I have permission to get dressed, my Lord?"
"No. And don't look at me. I haven’t granted you permission for that either."
I lower my head meekly.
"I offered you the privilege to sleep on my bed and yet you think it was something ordinary."
"No, I didn't," I protest casting my gaze boldly at him.
"Eyes down, bitch. Oh, so you think you didn't take it for granted? Do tell me how you showed me your gratitude."
Now I understand what he is talking about. He wants me to thank him for letting me sleep on his bed.
I kneel in front of him, with my head still bowed in respect and utter a clear ‘thank you, my Lord.’
“It wasn’t that hard. Was it? You can dress after you have washed yourself in the lake. I allow you to swim, as well, until I return from hunting.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” I repeat.
He doesn’t call me ‘baby’ again as I had hoped he would, but the good news is that he has let me eat on the table. I had to kneel, thank him and kiss his hand for this privilege. Something inside me revolts so intensely to this treatment. I am not his bitch. I am a girl. Of a noble and rich family. I don’t deserve this behavior. Yet, I try to calm this part of myself. I can’t mess it up again. He might not give me another chance.
After the afternoon swim in the lake, he guides me once more in giving him pleasure with my mouth. He didn’t come in my throat. But I had to lick him afterwards. He says it’s a way to get used to it slowly. I really don’t want to think when I will have to swallow his sperm. Well, not that I haven’t already done so. But coming in my throat? I panic at the thought of this. Nonetheless, he has been more patient and gentle with me today. I guess he understands now how difficult it is for me and leads me cautiously.
“I am satisfied with your progress, bitch,” he says with a sated glow in his eyes after he has come. “We will be practicing oral every day. And you will see that little by little you will feel more comfortable. But this was not your test for today.”
No? What has he planned? What more can he do to me?
“Lie on the bed,” he orders me.
I am naked, as I was commanded not to wear anything after swimming in the lake
. I lie on the bed on my back. He takes a chair and sits beside me, looking at me intently.
“I want you to open your legs,” he says.
Okay, this is not difficult. I wonder what he has on his mind.
“More. Bring your knees on your chest.”
I obey blushing. My most intimate parts are now exposed in front of his examining eyes.
“Do you enjoy the view?” I dare ask.
“Very. But if you don’t want me to slap your pretty ass over my knee, don’t talk to me without permission. Especially in order to ask something like that.”
I avert my eyes disturbed. Why did I do that? It’s just that I have missed being playful. He is always so serious. Especially when he is teaching me. He has assumed the role of the sex teacher so solemnly.
“Take your hand and caress your pussy.”
Oh, now...Does he really have to use the p word? He makes it sound so vulgar.
“Good,” he says when I have placed my palm over my sex. “Now, use your fingers to open the folds and locate your clit. You will realize the spot from the sensation.”
I do find the sweet spot but it is very sensitive and I flinch slightly.
“It feels like that because you are not wet. Use your middle finger to insert it inside you. Don’t look at me like that, bitch. Do as I say.”
I trace with my fingers the path leading to the opening of my vagina and slowly stretch it with my middle finger.
“All of it. Don’t be scared,” he says, “and then slide it in and out.”
The feeling is overwhelming. I didn’t know I owned such an entrancing gift.
“Close your eyes and picture me being inside you,” he guides me, “Imagine I kiss you, I bite you, I lick your nipples, I caress and squeeze your lovely skin.”
I bite my lip with gratification. Being so close to me, but not touching me, is beyond erotic. It’s not tricky to imagine he is the one bestowing me this delicious bliss. With my eyes closed, I see his face over me, I feel his lips kissing me, his hands dominating every inch of my body.
“That’s good, bitch. Let yourself go,” he whispers.
I squeeze my breast with my free hand, kneading and pinching my nipple, like he would do and then lead it to my stomach, my belly and my inner thighs.
“Are you wet, bitch?”
“Yes, my Lord,” I manage to reply with a moan.
“Take your finger out and pass your wetness along your pussy, reaching your clit.”
I raise my hips in expectation as I cover my hungry flesh with my overflowing juices.
“And your labia, also, bitch. I want all your pussy covered in your wetness.”
I am lost in a world of sensation. My mind has gone numb. All I want now is to reach my so desired release. My body fluids make my fingers glide easily over my clit. They know exactly what they have to do, without any further instructions from him. I rub it with force. My hips move to a parallel rhythm. I am so near to my orgasm. I can feel it.
“Stop,” he says.
He takes away my hand.
“Didn’t you hear me? I told you to stop.”
I open my eyes in amazement. Why on earth would he stop me just when I was on the verge of reaching my climax? This is cruel.
“When I tell you something, you have to obey, bitch. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Please, my Lord. Let me go on.”
“No, bitch. Trust me. Your lesson is not this. Stay still.”
He goes to the table and brings some rope. Actually, they are three ropes. He uses the one to bind my hands over my head to the bed and the other two to tie my legs together as they are bent over my chest.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, my Lord. But I really want to come. Please...” I feel my sex burning in desire. Literally burning.
“You will, my bitch. You will. Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Then, trust me. I am going outside to cut some wood. I won’t be long.”
I hate him right now. Couldn’t he cut wood earlier? Is this the right moment? But of course not. He is doing it on purpose. I am helpless. I still move my hips up and down in an attempt to relieve myself with no success.
Calista, think about something else. Take it out of your mind. What to think, what to think…
Butterflies and puppies and women roaming down the street with baby strollers are all I can think of. But not for long. The sound of the axe falling on the piece of wood makes me feel uneasy. Somehow, I am wishing I was that piece of wood. To bear his violent stab on me, even if it would kill me. This man has made all my darkest and most primitive desires surface. Desires that only he knows how to soothe and satisfy.
Finally, he comes back. He smiles to me.
“How is my little bitch holding on?”
I frown at him.
“Is this the proper attitude to get what you want?”
“No, my Lord. I am sorry.”
“You are not. But you are afraid I won’t let you come. So, I think I will give you some more time to think about it. I’ll go pick some berries.”
“Please, my Lord...”
“Bitch, I didn’t say you can speak. Only when I ask you something you have permission to do so. When will you learn this?”
I close my eyes, exasperated. Why does he always push my limits? Why does he want to break me in every possible way? I decide to relax and stop fighting him. There is no use anyway. He always gets to win and I am the one who has to suffer the consequences.
This time it doesn’t take him so long to come back.
“How are you now?” he asks.
“I’m fine, my Lord,” I reply, not looking at him.
“Look at me.”
There is lust in his eyes that makes my heart beat faster. I want him so much, it physically hurts.
He releases me of my restraints.
“You can come,” he says.
I want to ask him to join me, but he will surely not like it. I can’t push him more, as he might deny me even this way of release.
“If you aren’t wet anymore, repeat the same process.”
He is right. My sex has dried out after all this time of waiting. However, I seem to respond faster to my touch now. Soon, I have reached the point in which I was before he interrupted me.
I rock my hips against my finger in a furious rhythm, but there is no release. My emotions are confused and I can’t concentrate. I am mad at him for stopping me and frustrated because he doesn’t accompany me in my effort to come. It seems like a rejection and rejection can’t be erotic at all.
He comes closer and blows a small puff of air on my ear. I moan. It’s the only type of touch he is willing to offer me.
“I am lying over you, my sweet bitch,” he whispers in a velvety voice sending shivers up and down my spine. “I am kissing you, holding you close to my body, not letting you go, leading us to ecstasy. What you are touching is not yours, it belongs to me. Your pussy is mine to do as I please. And right now I want it to tremble in satisfaction. Do it for me, my bitch. Show me how this pussy belongs to me and that it obeys my wishes.”
His words ignite an explosion deep in my belly. I orgasm spectacularly, screaming and shaking in intense spasms.
“My good bitch,” he says, while I am still panting, kissing my cheek.
I fall almost instantly asleep in his arms. I don’t even ask him for permission to sleep on the bed, but the way he cuddles me tightly is the proof he doesn’t mind at all. I think I am smiling while sleeping. Or perhaps I am just dreaming.
Chapter 9
The next morning, when I am about to get dressed and he is still snoozing, I seize the opportunity to ask him what has been bothering me since the first night I got here.
“How come you have all these dresses and women’s clothes?”
He half opens his eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you to ask me for permission when you want to talk to me?”
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I breathe out, exhausted by his behavior.
“Bitch, did you just defy me?”
“No, my Lord.”
“I think you did. Bend over in front of the bed.”
Great, Calista. You just couldn’t resist, could you? You had to show your displeasure.
I bend over, my buttocks facing him.
“This. Is. For. Disobeying. Me.” Every word is followed by a slight slap on my behind. His blows are so tame, that they feel like a fervent caress, rather than a spanking.
“What do you say now, my bitch?”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
He extends his hand and I bow to kiss it as he has instructed I should do when he punishes me.
“May I speak, my Lord?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Why do you have so many women’s clothes and underwear?”
“Do you think you are the first girl that has come here?”
“I am not?” I ask with a shrill voice.
“Of course not. Many have come in the past, yearning to discover what you are looking for.”
I feel a sting of jealousy. I don’t know these women, but I hate the fact that they got to touch him, kiss him and have sex with him. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.
“And why didn’t they stay?”
“There was no reason for them to stay here after they had learnt everything I had to teach them. They were released and they returned to their houses. Some of them have revisited in order to let me know how their lives resumed. Most of them are happily married with children.”
I am relieved to hear that for now, it’s just him and me.
“And the clothes?”
“Well, some are from the rich people’s garbage, others belonged to the girls. Is your curiosity satisfied?”
“Yes, my Lord,” I say even though I have more questions that I do not dare ask him. I am dying to know if he had feelings for any of these girls and why he didn’t get married. Wearing their clothes is awkward and disturbing.
During lunch time he asks me to take off all my clothes and sit on hands and knees in front of him, while he is sitting on a chair. I obey, wondering what he wants to do to me. I envision him having sex with me, replete with passion.
