“With the cane?” He dragged out her anguish and humiliation.
“Yes...”
“Beg for it, then. Beg to be whipped with the cane.”
“Master,” she croaked, “I beg you to whip me with the cane.”
“On your tits,” he added.
“Yes...please, Master, whip my tits,” she breathed.
“Hold them up to me,” he ordered. “Offer them to me.”
“M—my breasts?” she said stupidly.
“That’s right, you stuttering little bitch.” He released her chin and brought the cane down on her thigh, catching her off guard.
She screamed. The welt rose immediately, angry red. Stone’s cock throbbed in appreciation.
Sheila lowered her head to the ground, attempting to cover herself. This was a mistake, because it left her back open to the whip. She felt this quite severely due to the lack of fleshy padding on that area of her body.
Her cry was ear piercing. He could smell the panic on her, mixed with the sexual arousal. She was a female, confused, in heat. Mercifully, he showed her the only way forward.
Obedience.
“Your breasts,” he prompted. “Present them for caning.”
The naked slave struggled upright, fighting every instinct to rebel. Eyes piteous, she cupped the bottoms of her defenseless tits and lifted them up and out. Stone slashed the air, striking them wickedly. The groan came from deep in her throat.
Her hands moved to shield herself, as he knew they would. Giving no quarter, he caned her across the thigh much harder. “You need to focus, Sheila. You need to maintain position.”
Desperate, her expression contorted and agonized, Sheila presented her breasts. There was a lovely, angry mark etched across the surface of both globes. It begged for company.
He poked her nipple with the tip of the cane.
“You may thank me for claiming you, slut, and agreeing to teach you discipline.”
“Thank you, Master.” She was panting, trying not to flinch.
“You have much to learn.” He struck her with the cane, managing this time to intersect her rosy nub with the blow.
“Yes, Master,” she swooned.
“Thighs wider apart,” he tapped her waist. “Back on your heels. You’re a slave, cunt, you need to act like one.”
Sheila put herself into the new position, blatantly displaying her dripping cunt. Stone sniffed the air. It reeked of pussy.
“What’s turning you on?” he touched the cane between her legs. “The beating or the humiliation?”
She shuddered to the core as he penetrated her, using the stick like a cock. Stone was never more in his element as he violated her this way, seeing in her eyes that she was terrified to resist, terrified to lie. “I—I don’t know, Master.”
“Of course you do.” He moved the cane in deeper then retracted it. “You’re a natural pain slut. And a slave. Look into your fantasies. What do they show?”
“I used to dream of this, Master...”
“And now it’s your reality.”
“Yes, Master.” She couldn’t help but move, writhing against the stick even as he began to fuck her with it.
“Would you like to come?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she said, the desire oozing from her pores. “Oh, Master.”
“Permission denied.” He put the cane to her lips, having left her unsatisfied, and on the brink of orgasm. “Kiss it, lick it clean.”
She puckered, trembling. It was going to taste like pussy.
He laughed as she paid homage, running her tongue up and down. “Such a good little slut,” he mocked.
Stone made her open her mouth so she could suck the tip of the device. “Show me how much you want to please me.”
Sheila was eager, wide-eyed.
“Touch your pussy.”
She didn’t dare refuse him. The most she could do was close her eyes and whimper. He ordered her to caress her nipple with her other hand. She writhed from the sensation; her body craving the pleasure. He would give it to her but not for long. Stopping her yet again, just short of orgasm, he ordered her to stand, grasping her ankles.
It was time for punishment in earnest. Her body was stiff with anticipation. Stone ran the whip along her spine. She jolted as though struck. Using the cane, he tapped the sensitive places on her inner thighs, running the bamboo to her exposed pussy lips.
His pretty little captive moaned. It was good to be ambidextrous, able to torture her doubly.
“You are not to beg mercy,” he told her, “or I shall start again from the beginning.”
“Yes, Master.”
Moving to the front of her, as a final prelude, he pushed the toe of his shoe toward her forehead. “Lick,” he ordered.
His new slave ran her tongue obediently over the leather, paying homage as best she could from her inverted position. He allowed her to continue for some time as he ran over in his mind all the things he could do to her before sunrise. He had to remind himself this was only the first night. There were many more, as many as he wished.
It wasn’t like Sheila was going anywhere. She was his, like a car or a tie. The thought gave him ultimate satisfaction. So much torture ahead, and though he had done this with hundreds of girls, he never tired of feasting off their reactions, absorbing for himself all their fear and panic...and arousal.
Unzipping his trousers, he took out his cock to please himself. He would stroke his iron hard erection while beating his faithful secretary. And afterwards, he would take her, spilling his mastery inside her as she screamed in pain.
The screams doing nothing but amplifying his own pleasure.
Ah, yes, he sighed to himself. The first night...
***
Sheila dabbed her little tongue at Mr. Stone’s shoe, pressing and sliding it over and over, wanting nothing more in the world than to please him. She was nude and bent over, her ass cheeks taut and her pussy stretched and vulnerable. He had her at his mercy, and he intended to punish her. The man had claimed her as a slave and awakened unto her a world of brutality.
She was very much afraid, but as she sought to abase herself with her mouth, it wasn’t only fear she felt. Sheila wanted to do this. She needed it. Mr. Stone, her Master, was everything. It was right for him to use her body in such a base way, and she wanted more. She wanted to be fucked, totally for his pleasure; she wanted to be dominated in ways she had never dreamed of.
She wanted her fantasies realized and exploited and ultimately overtaken by a cold, gleaming steel reality, one she could never face alone, but only with a man as deliciously cruel as Jeremy Stone.
“Ready for your initiation, girl?”
“Yes, Master,” she croaked as he removed the shoe from licking range.
He chuckled as he stepped behind her. “You couldn’t begin to prepare yourself, my nubile little slut.”
Sheila could not see where he was. She strained to hear the sound of his footsteps. She shifted her feet a little on the cold marble floor, so very aware of her own smallness and nakedness amidst the splendor of the man’s huge residence. Everything here was designed to make a woman feel enslaved.
Above her, through the glass, she had seen the night sky and the huge columns all around her. And the lack of doors, save the elevator, which was private, leading directly up from the man’s private parking area. She was indeed a prisoner.
A prisoner about to be beaten.
“We will begin with the cane, Sheila. After this, you will never want to disobey me again. You will try with all your heart and soul to be good. Unfortunately, it won’t always be possible.”
He caressed her buttocks with the bamboo. “You will keep count, Sheila.”
“Yes, Master.”
The cane whistled in the air for practice. She cringed. This was going to be bad. Another slicing sound followed. This time there was impact. A crisp crack, reverberating throughout her body. Her mind denied the pain for a second, and then the floodgates opened.
She cried out, stumbling forward. He ordered her back into position.
“You didn’t count,” he said. “We’ll start again.”
Sheila sobbed, her hair damp with sweat, hanging about her feet. “One,” her voice shook as Stone made a fresh target of her. “T—two.”
She barely heard herself announcing the third and fourth blow. She was in agony. Her body was liquid fire. He paused at this point, though not for mercy’s sake.
“You’re wetter than ever,” he stroked her pussy. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
Sheila moaned, writhing. The constant throbs of pain were interrupted by pleasure, by burning, torturous need.
“Would you like to be fucked, Sheila?”
“Master...please...god, yes.”
He rubbed her bottom, freshening the pain. “Why should I make you feel good, Sheila?”
“I...I need to come, Master.”
He flicked her clitoris. “You don’t need to do anything, slut, except amuse me.”
“Yes...Master.”
“You’re a virgin,” he reminded.
“Take it from me,” she begged. “Plow me...Sir.”
“No.” The hand stopped caressing. He struck her with the whip, finding new places on her ass.
Her cries were deep and mottled. She breathed short and quick, gritting her teeth in between cries. There was no counting this time, just enduring. On and on it went until it felt like forever. Her ass felt numb and hot and cold all at once. Her pussy still managed to spasm, clenching at the empty air, craving the love it could not have.
When Stone finished beating her, he put Sheila back on her knees. “You’ll take it to the back of the throat,” he commanded, feeding his exposed cock between her lips.
She had no chance to say ‘Yes, Master’, or anything else. His cock was her universe. Stone grabbed handfuls of her hair, using them as handles. She gasped for air, the taste and smell of him filling her. As his thick member pushed deeper, she felt the gag reflex kicking in.
She had read about girls learning to relax those muscles, tricking their bodies into taking in abnormally large objects, like penises. Closing her eyes, she thought of her helplessness, her status as property. It made her hot and easy and slack jawed.
“Good girl,” he approved. “Good little cock sucker.”
She responded to the humiliating praise, sucking him all the harder, working her tongue around the base, seeking to slurp and please Master. Stone moved her head up and down the length of him, utilizing her like some kind of vacuum machine. His momentum built, and she felt his cock swelling.
From the experience she’d had with two men before, she knew he was about to come. In those cases, she had spit out the semen, but with Stone, she knew instinctively she would have to swallow.
As it turned out, though, he had something else in mind. Pulling his cock out at the last second, he aimed at her face. It was glistening and purple red, covered in veins. His balls were tight and hard, she knew they were full of the white cream he was getting ready to release.
“Beg for it,” he ordered, taking her ruined hair in his fist.
“Master, come on my face...come on my body.”
“Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, slut.”
She complied, allowing him a target, dead center on her face. His eyes glazed over; he was exuding raw power. She adored him so much right now. She could fall and worship but for the grip he had on her head. Eyes pliant, she let him know she was his.
Stone grunted and released his semen. A white, hot spurt landed on her cheek. More followed, blast after blast, on her tongue, her forehead, her hair, even the tip of her nose. Directing the spray lower, he managed to hit her breasts as well. He kept pumping until every drop was out.
Sheila was covered, mark in sticky man gel.
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
She stayed perfectly still, not daring to touch herself. He left her long enough to retrieve something off a rack on the wall. It was a collar made of black leather with an attached metal leash. He secured it around her neck. There was a padlock. She felt a twinge in her pussy as he closed it.
She was secured, like a pet. She could not remove the collar, not without the key.
Stone doubled the leash in his fist. He pulled it taut, choking her. “You look good dressed in my come. It suits you well.”
Sheila whimpered, unable to breathe.
“You will not remove it from your body,” he instructed.
“Yes, Master,” she managed.
Stone let up, giving her slack. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded.
Sheila lowered herself.
“Kiss,” he put out his shoe.
She pressed her lips passionately, eagerly.
Stone took her across the marble floor and up the marble stairs. He was not patient with her but forced her to keep up his pace. Once she slipped on the steps. He used the whip on her, which he was still carrying. He made her lick the place where she fell which was now covered in the sweat and semen from her breasts which she had gotten on the marble stairs.
Her knees were sore and aching by the time they reached the top. She was thankful for the thick carpet, though she quickly realized the lush red fibers could burn her tender knee caps. Stone took her straight down a long corridor with white doors. There were full suits of armor guarding them, very ancient and imposing.
He stopped in front of one of the doors, unlocking it with a skeleton key from his pocket. She couldn’t believe how large this place was. Like a mansion inside, a palace.
The room was dark and creepy. He turned on a light switch, bathing the enclosed space in a dim yellow light.
“I hope you’ll find your accommodations adequate,” said her new Master, his voice dripping with irony.
Sheila looked at the wooden floor, the cage in the middle, scarcely large enough to secure a dog. It was made of heavy steel with thick vertical bars like something one might see at the circus. Someone had put wood chips in the bottom, cedar, like the kind used for small rodent pets. There was a water dish on the floor of the cage and another dish beside it, empty.
Instantly, instinctively, Sheila’s limbs locked.
He had to whip her forward, punishing her already tortured ass. Before caging her, Stone made her relieve herself in the corner. She was forced to do so on all fours, in front of him. There was a ceramic bowl built into the floor for this purpose, with a drain.
“Dogs and sluts lift their legs,” he whipped her tender backside, remonstrating.
Shamed beyond belief, Sheila pissed for her Master, the warm, golden tinkle streaming into the bowl.
“Good girl,” he tousled her hair. “Now let’s get you tucked in, shall we?”
Head lowered, whimpering and broken, Sheila crawled into her cage. Stone locked it behind her, utilizing a second padlock.
Sheila turned around to face him, still on all fours. There was no room to stand or even to sit. She couldn’t lie down either.
“Hand me the leash,” he said.
Sheila obeyed. Stone yanked it forward pulling her nose between the bars. “If you’d been especially naughty, I could secure you like this and make you stay on your hands and knees all night. But you’re still new, so I’ll let you sleep curled on your side. Mind this lesson well, little Sheila. Know what I am capable of. Keep this very fresh in your mind when I allow you your privileges for obedience. When you are allowed to sit on a chair and work for me in the office, fully clothed; when I take you out to dinner or let you sleep in my bed. It’s all contingent on your behavior. And my whims.”
Her head swam. He was cutting off her oxygen again, not to mention blowing her consciousness wide open with all this power talk. She felt so darkly and coldly enveloped, in a delicious way that she had craved her whole life.
She was free, paradoxically. “Yes, Master.”
Stone unclipped the metal leash. “Lay down, little girl.”
Sheil
a settled herself in the wood shavings. They got in her hair; they stuck to her fire-eaten ass; and they were even going between her legs, adding to her thrumming pussy torture.
She looked up at him. So tall and regal. Her boss, her lord.
“I am going to call you S from now on,” he informed her hands on his hips.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
Was it appropriate to beg to be fucked?
“You’re a pretty little animal, S,” he observed.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Why do you exist, S?”
“To please you, Master.” There was no hesitation in her voice.
“You’ve done well,” he told her, “for your first night. There is only one thing left you must do for me.”
“Yes, Master?”
“Make yourself come.”
Just when Sheila thought he couldn’t bring her down any further...
“Yes,” she whispered, “Master.”
To have to do this, now, in front of him, was the hardest thing of all. Pleasing him was so much simpler. He gave her meaning, told her what to live for, put her in her place of service. But what did she, locked in a cage, under his thumb and under his absolute power, know of pleasure anymore? She was a creature, an animal, a toy.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said sternly.
She moaned, helpless. Her hand strayed to her nipple. Hot and tender to the touch. Wood chips stung her hip as she shifted her position. Her smell was thick in the air; her thighs were slick.
“On your back, slut, let me see it.”
Sheila rolled over, sweat covered. She had her feet planted, her heels drawn up toward her ass. Her knees nearly brushed the roof of the cage, which was also made of bars. She opened her thighs wide for him. Her pussy throbbed in the open air.
A groan escaped her throat as her fingers reached home, grazing her clit. Tentatively, she stroked her swollen pussy lips.
“Do it faster, dirtier,” he chided. “You’re a caged slut, not a porn queen.”
Sheila pushed her fingers inside, raw and hungry. Her pussy clenched at them. She was ready. All it had taken was his command. She was an animal now, and she would behave like one.
Punish Me, Please Page 6