Yes, Master!

by Reese Gabriel

  “You’re right. You’re my slave, I want you and I claim you.”

  She pushed her body against him, kissing at his chest, her fingers greedy on his cock. “So claim me already.”

  Kyle couldn’t clear the table fast enough. He had her bent over, face down. “About the spatula from last night,” he said.

  She grimaced at the feel of the thing, aluminum whipping through the air ending its journey with calculated, cold precision on her ass. “Yes...Master.”

  “You will count to ten blows,” he informed her.

  “Yes, Master. One...”

  He hit her a second time, laying a blow on her upper thighs.

  “Two,” she sighed.

  Kyle landed the next blow directly across the crack of her ass. “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered.

  “Three...” she said, sliding her feet on the floor.

  He took aim for her pussy lips. She yelped in reply. “Four!”

  The next three followed rapid fire, alternating cheeks.

  Kyle slowed down, savoring the final three. In between he tickled her clitoris, making her moan. The pain twisted with the pleasure, a colored snake of desire hissing its way down her spine.

  “That’s my slut,” he growled with malevolent male satisfaction.

  Her ass was glowing hot by the time he was done. Lo and behold he was hard again, ready to penetrate. She groaned as he slipped inside, claiming her open canal. What day was it anyway? Sunday. But what year, what life? Everything felt new. She was so excited for tomorrow. They’d have to live together now. A slave couldn’t have her own household.

  Rave was history. She would give him his walking papers. And if he put up any squawk she would turn to Kyle. Virgil would be there, too, if she needed. She didn’t expect trouble. Men like Rave didn’t want difficulties. For his purposes, he could find hundreds of suitable women, poor creatures with tight bodies and low self esteem, ready made victims, cookie cutter sluts.

  Liandra was a different kind of slut now. A one man slut.

  Would Kyle ever want to share her? That would be kinky and loads of fun. He could give her to Virgil and maybe Virgil would share Penayway with him. She’d like to see Kyle fuck another slave. She’d like to be in bondage, helpless to interfere as he took his pleasure with another woman. Kyle would come inside her, filling her mouth or pussy. He’d whip her right in front of Liandra, he’d stroke his cock, he’d pant with desire.

  Kyle roared out at he came. She could feel the release from deep within. His master’s soul was coming to life. She was so happy. She’d do her best to bring out the best in him, never letting him forget Vanessa even as he continued to discover day after day the joys that she could bring him with her own body and wicked mind.

  Taking a page from Penayway, Liandra licked her master’s cock clean afterwards, taking down her throat all of her own pussy fluids. Kyle stroked her head, softly murmuring her name.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said.

  They lay down beside each other, exhausted. For most of Sunday they slept. They were in no rush now. It wasn’t their last day anymore, it was just the beginning.

  The beginning of a lifetime of orders and commands, a lifetime of orgasms and cinching chains, snapping whips and tugging leashes. A million cries of “Yes, Master,” and “Now, slave!”

  It was past supper time when they awoke. Liandra padded to the kitchen naked and rummaged in the fridge. Typical man, he had very little to offer. She found some pork chops in the freezer. She defrosted them and heated up some rice. Kyle was watching the end of a football game. She brought him in a plate, heaping with food.

  She sat at his feet by the couch while he ate. Her stomach growled, but she derived infinitely greater satisfaction knowing he was pleased and getting his belly filled.

  He fed her little tidbits along the way. When he was done, he set his plate on the floor. Liandra went on all fours, eating up the bits of rice and green beans. She was hungry for the second pork chop still on the stove.

  “May I have a plate of my own?” she asked.

  “Earn it,” he said.

  She settled herself between his legs. “Yes, Master.”

  The game went into over time, as did the blow job. “Go get your plate,” he tapped her shoulder. “I have an idea.”

  She scampered off, quite curious to see what he had in mind.

  His idea was most wicked.

  In one hand he made her hold her plate. The other she used to masturbate him, pumping his turgid rod until he spurted all over her food, a thick coating of white globs. He cut the meat for her and gave her back the plate.

  She ate naked at his feet, with her hands, scooping the come covered food into her mouth.

  “You mentioned something,” he said after she was done. “About being a footstool?”

  “Yes, Master.” Liandra assumed her position on all fours. Master crossed his ankles over her back, weighing down. She continued supporting him this way as long as her elbows held out.

  Eventually they gave way. Kyle leaned forward and smacked her ass hard. Stinging, she got back in place, determined not to repeat the error.

  She lasted only a few minutes this time. He smacked her again. She struggled into place, wobbling.

  Down she went in a few seconds. He smacked her repeatedly.

  She got one last chance, which she summarily blew.

  “Fetch the spatula,” he said.

  “Yes, Master.” Liandra moved as a slave, crawling on her hands and knees. She brought the device back between her teeth. He took it from her.

  “What are you?”

  “A slave girl, Master.”

  “Whose slave girl?”

  “Yours, Master.”

  “You may beg me to beat your miserable ass again, slave girl.”

  “Please, Master, beat your slave’s miserable ass, pretty please.” She looked at him longingly, determined to show the transparent depths of her love. She would never lie to him again, never conceal.

  Kyle was happy to oblige the masochistic request as she knelt, face to the floor, ass in the air. He whipped her long and hard. And then he fucked her with the handle. He left her shivering, broken, still coming.

  “Into the bathroom, slave, I have a present for you.”

  She crawled eagerly, knowing instinctively what he had in mind. She’d dreamed of this moment. He had her crawl onto the tiles and into the bathtub. He stepped in with her. “You know what’s going to happen?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re going to pee on me, Master?”

  “Good guess.”

  “Oh, Master, thank you.” She couldn’t contain her smile.

  He took hold of his cock. “Hold your head up, but be careful, keep your mouth closed.”

  Rave never cared like this, she thought. He probably enjoyed the idea of her tasting his urine.

  Kyle released his stream, long and hard and hot. It splashed across her cheek and down her chin. He adjusted his aim, dousing her breasts. She felt anointed, soaked in glory. A slave’s glory. She had her eyes shut, but she could picture the look of bliss on his face.

  “Good girl,” he whispered, as the pee dripped down between her thighs and over her hip. “Good girl.”

  She felt so full in her heart. She was wet, inside and out, moist with love and desire. She was ready...she was his.

  Kyle drained every bit of his urine. He paused to look down at her, his face full of love and admiration. “Thank you,” he said.

  She was astonished. “Why are you thanking me?”

  “For your gift of submission,” he said. “It is a pearl beyond all price, my angel.”

  “Oh, Master. I’m so very happy.”

  He touched her cheek. “We’ll have a shower, then we will go out and get some ice cream. Feel up to something gooey and chocolatey?”

  She looked at him sheepishly. “Yes, but I’m not really going to be able to dress for the occasion a
nymore, not with my blouse being buttonless.”

  “Good point. I had forgotten that.” He considered. “I suppose you could borrow one of my t-shirts, if you don’t mind.”

  Mind? She’d be in paradise, wearing Master’s clothes, smelling like him, all snuggy and warm. “I’d like that,” she said.

  “Good.” He turned on the shower. “Looks like we’re in business, then.”

  Business, indeed. It was a lifetime’s contract to be precise, with no loopholes.

  The ice cream was delicious. They laughed non-stop the whole time, playing with each other’s spoons at a corner table. They talked, too, baring each other’s souls. Things she’d never shared with anyone, things she never thought anyone would care about.

  He shared, too, a lot more things about Vanessa, but things about himself, too. Dreams he’d been having, ideas for how he’d like to live, what he thought a Master and slave could do together. There were things he and Vanessa had never gotten to try. He wanted to buy a cage, for instance, where he could keep a woman at times. He was also curious about tattoos and piercings. He wanted to chain a woman by her nipples and to have the option to link together her pussy lips by attached rings.

  He’d felt like it was a betrayal to ever think along those lines, as if he’d be choking Vanessa’s memory, but now he saw he was honoring her in the best way, by growing and being true to himself. Vanessa would have wanted that; she would never have wanted him to give up on life.

  He paid the highest honor to Liandra by telling her that Vanessa would have liked her. Liandra was so pleased. She sent him into hysterics next by telling her that her father would have hated him.

  “Trust me,” she said. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I think you’ll get a spanking for that,” he decided.

  She squirmed suggestively. “I think my butt’s had enough for one day...Sir.”

  “You can never have enough corporal punishment,” he declared.

  “Okay, well let’s try it on you, then.”

  He pretended to consider for a moment. “Um, no, but thanks for asking.”

  “Any time.”

  “This is what I get for giving you your own ice cream.”

  “You can never separate a woman from chocolate,” she said. “Even a slave.”

  “I guess you will be teaching me things.”

  “Vanessa wasn’t into chocolate?”

  “She was a vanilla girl, ironically enough.”

  “Must have had some laughs over that,” she mused.

  “Quite a few, yes.”

  Liandra grew quiet. “I don’t want to go home, tonight. To my apartment, I mean.”

  “So don’t.”

  “But I need my clothes.”

  “We’ll go pick them up.”

  “Rave might be there.”

  “Good, I hope he is.”

  She grabbed his hand across the table. “You know how much I love you?”

  “No, but you’re going to have a lifetime to show me.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to propose and make an honest slave of me?”

  “I’ll propose, but you’d better be honest no matter what.”

  “Always.” She smiled coyly.

  He looked at her, stars in his eyes. “You know, I am still afraid this is a dream and I’ll wake up and find you gone.”

  “I can pinch you if you like...”

  “Thanks,” he said with a wink. “But I think I will do all the pinching in this relationship.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she replied. “I certainly hope so.”

  The End

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