by Linnea May
“Keep looking at me,” I caution her, now holding her chin between two fingers, forcing her gaze to focus on me. She obeys, her eyelashes batting with curious excitement, like a trapped butterfly.
“Never take your eyes off of me,” I tell her. “Unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master,” she says, nodding.
“Good girl.”
I leave a quick peck on her painted lips. They’re dipped in a deep ruby red, matching her dress.
“Let me see that dress on you,” I say, taking the bag from her lap and stepping back to give her room to get up and model it for me.
She looks a little lost for a moment, mourning the loss of her bag, her life line. Without it, her hands have nothing to hold onto, and they hang idly at the side of her body when she rises from the chair.
My doll is so beautiful, blessed with a beauty that most women would kill for, but she doesn’t carry herself that way. She’s insecure, slouching to make herself smaller than she is, instinctively lowering her eyes for a split second, before she remembers my command just in time and raises them up to look at me again. The dress looks perfect on her, hugging her frame in all the right ways, but she couldn’t look more uncomfortable. Her toes are pointed inward, giving her posture an awkward and infantile stance. She looks unstable and helpless.
“Walk for me,” I tell her, taking a few more steps back to give her more room. “Imagine this is a catwalk; walk toward me and parade that dress for me.”
She looks horrified at the suggestion. Her eyes widen and her mouth grimaces as if she was in pain.
“Do it,” I insist, raising my voice. “I’m not going to tell you again, doll.”
She swallows hard and nods.
“Yes, master.” Her voice sounds hollow and weak, as if she’s about to cry.
Finally, she decides to obey, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, balancing herself on the heels while struggling to maintain eye contact. She walks until she’s about two feet from me, then she pauses, a hesitant smile gracing her face, before she turns her back to me and walks back to the chair. It’s the first time I’m seeing the dress from behind. The low-backed detail allows for a good view of her spine, all the way down until just above the curve of her ass. I’m glad she’s wearing her hair up, just as instructed. It allows for an even better view of her naked back and will make for a great moment when I free her brunette locks to fall down her slender frame.
“Very good choice,” I praise her. “That dress looks fantastic on you.”
She comes to a halt and turns to me. The smile she casts me this time is a lot more genuine than the one before.
“Thank you,” she says. “I like it, too.”
“Your presentation, however,” I add, approaching her. “That was pathetic.”
The smile is gone as quickly as it appeared, quickly replaced by a worried expression.
I place my index finger below her chin and force her to look back up at me.
“You’re so beautiful, so exquisite,” I whisper. “But you need to learn how to show it off. You move as if you want to disappear from the world instead of drawing its eyes to you.”
She bites her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “Change it.
Her eyelashes flutter with nervous anticipation as she processes my words.
“You’ll learn,” I assure her, leaving her to walk over to the dresser. I place her bag on top of it and open one of the upper drawers to retrieve the first of many items she’ll wear for me.
Her eyes widen when she sees the collar in my hand.
“Have you ever been collared?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “N...n...no.”
It takes just one raised eyebrow to make her aware of her mistake.
“No, master,” she corrects herself.
“Good girl,” I praise. “I’m happy to be the first to bestow that honor upon you.”
She offers a shy smile when I close the leather training collar around her neck. It’s a simple one with no frills, just a simple d-ring at the front and a tiny lock in the back, and only I will have the key.
“Show me you wrists,” I order after the collar is set in place.
She lifts her arms, her palms facing up as if she was carrying a tray in front of her chest. A faint sigh escapes her lips when I fasten leather cuffs around her dainty wrists, making sure that they’re not too tight but not loose enough for her to take them off either.
“You’ll wear the color and cuffs for as long as you’re here,” I say. “Always. Do you understand?”
Her green eyes lock onto mine when she nods like a good girl.
“Yes, master.”
Chapter 15
Laura
I was scared when I first got here. I couldn’t see a thing, I had no idea where we were going, and the longer the drive took, the more suspicious I grew of the guy behind the wheel. The drive was a lot longer than the last time I was brought to Ryan’s place.
Master, I correct myself. I’m no longer allowed to call him Ryan; the instructions were clear.
Or else...
I don’t really know what will happen if I make a mistake. Will he warn me? Spank me? He never said anything about giving me warnings before he punishes me, but I know I’ve displeased him on several occasions since he stepped into the room. He scolded me for slouching, he scolded me for not being able to walk in my heels, but I have yet to receive an actual punishment.
My eyes rest on the leather cuffs around my wrist, but just for a moment before he reminds me to keep my eyes focused on him once again.
If he’s counting strikes against me, this must have been my last one. He looks agitated.
“Now,” he says. “Do you know what will happen next?”
We fuck, I think, but I know that’s not what he wants to hear. This is more than just sex, he told me.
“No, master, I don’t,” I reply. “Will you tell me?”
He smiles at me, visibly pleased at my correct wording. He’s wearing a suit again, a black one as far as I can tell in the dark. He’s wearing a slim tie as well. It appears to be slightly lighter-colored than the suit, a dark gray maybe. His jaw is clean-shaven and his black hair is gelled immaculately to the side. A part of me wants to ruffle that hair and reveal the boyish charm he hides under his well-groomed exterior.
I discovered he’s a person who is easy to stalk on the internet, so I know that he’s only six years older than me, even though he appears to be a lot more mature. He may only be a few years my senior, but he’s accomplished so much more within those years than I ever will. I wonder what else I will learn about him.
“It’s quite simple, really,” he says. “All you have to do is obey my commands. When I tell you to kneel, you kneel. When I tell you to walk up and down like a runway model, you do it. When I tell you to crawl on all fours, you crawl. When I tell you to spread your legs for me, you spread your legs. Understand?”
I blush at his last words. Something about the self-evident way he says these things is touching me in a way I didn’t think possible. He talks to me as if I was his property.
Which I am.
Why do I find that thought so arousing?
“Yes, master,” I say, aware that he can see right through me. He knows the effect he has on me; there’s no sense trying to hide it.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now, show me how well you can behave. Walk for me, just like you did before, but this time, I want you to do it right.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean by right?”
He casts me a warning look.
“Master,” I hurry to add. “What’s do you mean by “right,” master?”
He nods, casting me a look that tells me enough to know that he won’t tolerate a lot more blunders like this.
“Show me how pretty you are,” he says. “Don’t try to hide your beauty.”
I don’t really know what
to make of that, but it’s all he’s giving me. He steps back, making a wide gesture across the room to encourage me.
I take a deep breath and try to do as I’m told. So much for my hope that there wouldn’t be a lot of walking involved. I can barely keep my balance in these damn heels, my ankles roll on almost every second step, and I have to stretch my arms out to the sides, as if I was walking on a rope. This is not elegant at all, but I’m trying my best.
It doesn’t help that he scolds me every time I lower my eyes to watch my feet.
“Eyes on me!”
His voice grows harder every time.
“Straighten your back! Look up! Head high!”
What’s this supposed to be? I feel like I’m on an episode of America’s next top model, only that there’s no prize at the end and no cameras pointing at me.
“Shoulders back!”
This is ridiculous. I’m so annoyed, I can’t help but roll my eyes at him.
And that’s when I learn about punishments for the first time.
“Stop!” he yells at me. “Right there.”
I freeze on the spot, resisting the urge to flee from him when he darts at me with such sudden force that I almost fall over when he grabs me by the arm.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he barks, his face so close to mine that I can feel the warm air of his breath hitting my face.
“I-I-I-” I stutter, unable to phrase a coherent sentence.
He yanks at my arm, causing me to yelp in pain. “Answer me!”
“Yes,” I hurry to reply. “Yes, master, I did. I’m sorry, I-”
“You will be sorry,” he says, dragging me over to the bed.
He pushes me down roughly onto the mattress, my face forward and my legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Instinct tells me to push myself back up, but he holds me in place with one strong arm, forcing my upper body into the silk sheets, as his other hand reaches down to the hem of my dress, which ends shortly above my knees. He pushes my dress up with such brutality that I worry about him ripping the expensive fabric, but he doesn’t seem to care.
I complied with his wish for me to wear stockings. They are as new as everything else and my first purchase from Victoria’s Secret, a store I’ve never gone into before but always wanted to. I was hoping to be praised for my choice, a set of black stockings with pretty lace and a matching garter belt. The thong I’m wearing matches the set, as well, consisting only of a tiny piece of fabric with a small jewel decor at the back. Wearing these things had me more excited than I’d be willing to admit, but he pays very little attention to it right now.
All that matters to him in this moment is to expose my ass. The first blow comes unexpectedly and hits me so hard that I let out a surprisingly high shriek of pain. I never knew that having your ass spanked could hurt this much. There’s barely enough time for me to process the thought when the next strike follows straight away, but hitting the other side this time. Then another one. And another. He lands a painful sequence of spankings on my ass, each one hurting more than the one before it. I endure all but the very first one in complete silence, my hands crawling into the sheets beneath me as my entire body tenses up to prepare for the next blow. Tears of pain are threatening to run down my face, but I hold them back with stubborn determination.
I’m shaking by the time he stops, sweat running down my temples, and my ass is throbbing in ferocious pain. He’s standing behind me, watching as I lay in front of him in this humiliating pose.
And then something weird happens. Something...changes.
Violent agony turns into a warm throbbing of sensual after-pain. It’s still burning, but the feeling is more pleasant than painful.
“Get up,” he commands from behind me.
I take a deep breath before I push myself up from the mattress, refraining from fixing my pulled-up skirt as I straighten my posture in front of him.
As my eyes travel up to meet his, I detect a noticeable bulge in his crotch. He’s hard. This is turning him on!
“Now, doll,” he says. “Why did that just happen?”
I gulp.
“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” I say in a low voice, adding the word “master” just in time, before he gets angry at me again.
He smiles and comes closer, reaching his arms out and placing his hands on my shoulders. Even in my heels, I’m still a tad shorter than him and have to lift my eyes to meet his gaze. I like that a lot. Not many men can make me feel small, and I crave the experience more than most women probably would.
“Good girl,” he says, his voice soft again.
He gives me a quick kiss, only teasing my lips with his before he withdraws again. I find myself leaning in, left disappointed and hoping for more. The kiss we shared before was so sensual that I’ve been yearning for another one ever since. But he’s the one in charge. I can crave and wish all I want, but he’s the one who decides what will and what won’t happen between us.
“Now,” he whispers as his hands travel to my shoulders. “Let’s try this again. I know you can do better.”
I tense when he hooks his fingers below the straps of my dress and slowly pulls it down off my shoulders, pausing for a moment before exposing my breasts. The open back of the dress didn’t allow for a bra, and this is probably the first time I left the house without wearing one since my early teens. My breasts grew to an ample size quite early, and I’ve always felt more comfortable when they were supported, even though they are still firm and perky.
He hums with approval when he pulls my dress down further, completely exposing my breasts. His way of going about this is so sensual that I’m not surprised to see my nipples hard and erect, an obvious telltale of my arousal.
He casts me a knowing look, but refrains from touching them, even though I want him to. My back is straightened, urging my breasts up towards his face, a nonverbal invitation to play with them.
But he declines. Instead, he continues to pull the dress down my frame, deliberately caressing along the side of my arms when he moves down to my hips. I can’t suppress a moan when he pulls the dress down over my tortured ass, brushing across the still burning skin.
The dress drops down to my feet, and I‘m standing before him wearing nothing but stockings, a garter belt, the smallest thong I ever owned, and a new pair of heels that I can’t walk in.
He takes a step back, his eyes scanning every inch of my body as he takes me in.
“Perfect,” he assesses. “Now let’s try this again. Walk for me, doll.”
Chapter 16
Ryan
The perplexed look on her face when I walk over to the dresser to fetch the black delrin cane from the top drawer is priceless. She’s already experiencing a lot of discomfort because of my hand, and I can only imagine how fearful she is right now, wondering what I’m going to do to her with the cane.
The pink blush on her ass cheeks is proof of my punishing touch, but it’s not angry enough-looking to leave a scarring mark.
I’m sure this will change soon enough.
Even in her fearful state, she’s smart enough to keep moving.
I watch in silence while she tries her best to please me, striding up and down the length of the room in her unfamiliar stilettos. Her face is tense with concentration as she tries to balance in the awkward shoes and obey my order to never avert her beautiful eyes from mine.
I can forgive her for not being able to walk in these shoes. It comes as no surprise that someone so tall refrains from wearing heels, no matter how pretty they may look in them.
But I can’t ignore her slouching posture, the pained expression on her face, and her awkwardness and insecurity.
“Walk tall,” I command her. “Head high, shoulders back.”
She inhales audibly, but reacts by straightening her back and gaining height, all the while keeping her gaze focused on me. Her back is arced slightly, pushing her tits out.
“Beautiful,” I praise her. “That looks so much better on you,
doll.”
The hint of a smile flickers across her face.
But as soon as she turns to walk back on the imaginary runway, she starts slouching again, her shoulders slump and her whole body seems to relax, giving in to the instinct to make herself become as small as possible.
That’s when she earns the first blow with the cane. I strike it across her already flushed ass cheeks, just before she turns around again. The cane hurts a lot more than my bare hand, and her reaction doesn’t surprise me the least bit. She shrieks out in pain, her hands flying back to protect her aching ass. She stumbles and almost falls.
“I can still see you even when you’re walking the other way,” I remind her. “Don’t let your posture go just because your face is turned away from me.”
“Fuck,” she breathes out through the pain, and because her hands are still covering her rear end, the next blow hits her lower, on the back of her thighs.
Another agonizing shriek escapes her lips, but this time, I have to jump forward to catch her, so she doesn’t fall and hurt herself.
I catch her in both of my arms, wrapping one of them around her upper body to pull her into my arms. She casts me a confused look, her anguished eyes tear-streaked from the sharp pain I‘ve inflicted upon her. The blows were hard enough to leave a mark, but probably not vicious enough to break her skin.
When our eyes meet, I see the pleading expression she shoots me.
“Please, master,” she whimpers. “Not that.”
“I told you, doll, disobey me and you’ll be punished. You brought this on yourself.”
She bites her lower lip.
“It’s so hard,” she whines. “I’ve never walked in high heels before and –”
“It’s not about the shoes,” I interrupt. “I told you before that you’re beautiful, my doll, but you don’t want the world to see it.”
She scrunches her eyebrows as she tries to interpret my words.
“You’ll learn,” I assure her, squeezing her barely clothed body against mine as I claim another kiss from her lush lips. She’s too close, feels too soft, and smells too good for me to resist.
