Slave Erotica Volume 2

by Charlie Buxton

  "I'm sorry Sir," I say as clearly as I can, my head lowered. I hope my immediate apology will be accepted. Glancing through my eyelashes and I see you've sat back in the chair and are just looking at me again. This is not a good sign.

  Five minutes pass. The silence is loud. My breathing regulates, but my nerves remain. My heart is pounding in my chest. Your fingers finally reach out to me, hooking into the waistband of my skirt and pulling it down in one sudden movement. I gasp in shock, but do nothing to hinder you. It lies in a puddle at my feet, and you pick it up and hand it to me.

  "Fold it and put it on top of your bag."

  "Yes Sir," I fold the material as best as I can, my hands shaking, nervous at how calm you appear. Turning to walk away you grab my wrist and turn me back to you.

  "Crawl. Skirt in your mouth and crawl. Then come back here," you say, your eyes challenging.

  "Yes Sir," I hang my head in shame. Kneeling down in front of you I start to place the skirt in my mouth, but you clear your throat as I do. Already in a state of embarrassment I look up and see you motioning to the floor. I swallow hard and place the folded material in front of me. On all fours now I lean down and grasp the material in my mouth. Once I have it between my teeth I look up at you for your approval. My eyes are wet, I'm so embarrassed. I can't imagine what you're thinking when you're looking at me. You shoo me away with a flick of your hand and I turn to my case. As I crawl away from you I hear you stand up. Are you following me I wonder? But I don't check.

  "Take your shoes off while your there," you call out.

  Reaching my case I gratefully drop the skirt from my mouth on top. Reaching behind me I take the right then the left shoe off and sit them next to my bag and turn again. You didn't follow me. You were over in the corner where the pillow is, I see you placing something behind it, but I'm not sure what. Your back is to me. You didn't even watch me. My cheeks flame deeper. I crawl back to the chair, staying on all fours in front of it until you come back and sit down again. Your fingers hook under my chin and you pull up until I'm sat back up on my knees, resting on my heels. I can't meet your gaze.

  "Do you know why I make you do things like that?"

  I'm surprised by the question and look up at you. You see the question in my eyes, I don't even have to ask.

  "No, normally I don't explain myself to you. But I want to know if you know why I make you embarrass yourself? Why I make you crawl. Why I make you display yourself to me. Why do you think I degrade you like that?" You explain, pausing for me to start answering you. But I'm bewildered. "Answer me. Now."

  Your command runs through me like a shock.

  "I, I haven't thought about it Sir. Because you want to humiliate me?" I question.

  "No. Try again. Think how it makes you feel."

  I frown gently as I think.

  "It makes me feel controlled. Because I do whatever you ask. I feel controlled and submissive. It makes me focus on pleasing you and trying not to think about what I'm actually doing. Just pleasing you," realisation sets in.

  "You do it to put my head in the right place Sir," I say confidently. You look proud of my answer.

  "Exactly little sub. I do everything I possibly can to get your head where I need it to be. And you know where that is don't you?"

  "Yes Sir. Free of thought and letting myself just react and anticipate and be excited and give myself over to you Sir," this all tumbles out in a rush as your fingers disappear from my chin and grip either side of my blouse.

  "Oh Sir, please, I need to wear this tomorrow Sir!" I exclaim in a panic, your hands suggesting that you were going to rip it open.

  "Please Sir! The buttons might pop off..." I trail off as I look at you. You look back at me with an indecipherable glint in your eye, your hands still poised as if to rip my blouse off me. I'm holding my breath. You know I won't stop you if that's what you choose to do. The anticipation is exciting and unnerving. Finally, just as I'm accepting that I might have to wear my dress from this evening tomorrow, however out of place it may look, your grip loosens and you begin to undo the buttons one by one.

  "Thank you Sir," I say as I finally take a deep breath in. You take your time, looking at me instead of the buttons, feeling your way down my body, your hands brushing my skin as more is exposed. My breathing gets shallower as you continue, the lightest of touches making me gasp. I want your hands on me. You're driving me crazy and you know it. But you don't rush. You never rush. Finally, there's a clear line of skin visible, broken only by my bra. My skin is prickled with goosebumps and I push my breasts out towards you, my blouse sliding further apart.

  Slowly, so slowly, you press your finger against my clit before drawing a path directing over my tummy, to my cleavage.

  "Please!" I gasp.

  You still don't hurry. Running the back of your fingers over my breasts just makes me want to collapse forward into you, I manage to keep myself upright. Then you push the material softly until it falls back off my shoulders, one by one. It falls on the floor covering the back of my calves. I'm now on my knees in front of you dressed only in hold ups and my bra.

  "Don't think, just accept. Switch off your brain and give in to me. Let me do everything I want to you. Do you understand what I want from you?"

  "Yes Sir, I understand," I nod slowly.

  "Do not try to stop me again. I will do whatever I want. If you try to stop me again I'll tie your hands behind your back for the duration of our stay. Do you understand?" As you speak, your hands are busy behind my back unclasping my bra. You pull the straps from my shoulders and watch as my breasts are freed. My nipples harden instantly when the lace brushes against them as you pull my bra off slowly before throwing it in the general direction of my case. Your voice is even and steady. I don't doubt your words for a second.

  "Yes, I understand Sir," I reply, "I won't try to stop you again Sir."

  I feel chastised by your words, understanding the warning in your tone. You're giving me a chance to correct my behaviour and you don't often give those. Your hand presses on my shoulders and you tell me to sit on the floor, my legs out in front of me.

  You lean down and pick up the rope from the floor. I feel my skin tingle in excitement. I love it when you tie me up. The entire process, the way you touch me as you wrap the rope against my skin. The gentle caress, the rough rope, the dragging of the rope changing depending how fast you pull it through the passes. Your fingers looping beneath it, checking it, correcting, making it perfect. I always feel so safe in your hands, knowing how much you put into your ties being perfect.

  "Give me your arms," you demand.

  I sit up straighter and offer you my arms, your fingers wrapping round my wrists and turning them to face the other. Wrapping the rope around each wrist, securely, but able to slide two fingers between the rope and my skin.

  "Remember, my scissors are right there. If you need out, tell me," you speak as I watch you. Fascinated by how you handle the rope making it look intricate while making me feel trapped yet safe.

  "Yes Sir," I nod, distracted. I'm too focused on the rope, my head only just able to acknowledge you.

  "Good girl," you say as you kiss my lips briefly. I don't even get a change to return the kiss before you've stood and pulled me up with you by the rope encircling my wrists. You've wrapped it around and tied it on both wrists leaving a short length between the two. I have a feeling I know what's coming. You move me back a few steps and stop beneath the hook lined beam.

  "Arms up, legs apart. Wider. Perfect."

  You turn away to get more rope as I stand with my legs approximately two feet apart and my arms up in the air. I feel so exposed and I want to cover up, but I try to push away that thought.

  I can't look up, I keep my eyes downcast.

  "What's wrong?" You ask immediately.

  "I just feel a little self conscious like this Sir," I reply softly.

  "You have no need to be self conscious. You look incredible like this. Very inviting," you press
yourself against me, "nu-uh, keep your arms up. Very open. Ready for me. This is how I want you little sub."

  Your words reassure me but make me blush.

  "Thank you Sir. I'll try to relax," I reply.

  Your hand grabs my left breast, hard, your fingers digging in as you drag backwards, your grip tightening as you reach my nipple, making me scream out.

  "I didn't say I wanted you to relax," you say playfully, twisting my nipple hard before finally letting go.

  I'm panting as your attention turns back to the pile of rope you've dropped at my feet. Somehow my arms have stayed above my head and you busy yourself looping rope through a hook in the beam and then through the connecting piece on my wrists. You experiment with how tight you can pull it before I'm having to stand on tip toes while keeping my legs apart. You leave me with some slack and I'm surprised, a length of rope still hangs down. Disappearing off behind me I'm confused now. You're back in front of me and you're holding a spreader bar in your hands. The unasked questions go unanswered. I push them out of my head, just accepting whatever will happen.

  You start to wind the rope around my ankles as carefully as you did my wrists but then stop and undo it. Your hands glide up my leg until you reach the top of my hold up and start peeling it off slowly. My legs are smooth and pale underneath. Once they're off you trace invisible lines on my inner thighs.

  "Imagine cane welts and whip marks just here...oh how good they will look," you glance up at me wickedly, knowing how I struggle to hold it together when you make little promises like that. And I know it's always a promise and never a threat with you.

  You go back to trying my legs to the spreader bar. I'm trying not to giggle, but can't help it. Your fingers and the rope are tickling around my ankle. I think you start to do it more, but maybe I'm just being paranoid.

  Once both ankles are firmly tied you return to my wrists. Pulling the rope tight, giving me the tiniest bit of slack to let me rock back and forth, but no more. You tie it off and stand back, appraising your work. However safe I feel, I feel exactly the same level of vulnerability. I'm totally at your mercy now. Helpless. Available in every way. Naked and exposed. Your hand automatically strokes your cock through your trousers, and I see the bulge there, even a hint of wetness, precum taunting me.

  You step towards me and bend down as if to adjust something around my foot, but then I realise I wasn't imagining the tickling. It was deliberate. You explore my entire body, moving up, tickling my ankles, the back of my knees, my sides, under my arms, my back. Everywhere you get a reaction, you return to. I'm giggling at first but eventually it's torturous. It doesn't hurt but I'm too sensitive, every nerve hit is standing on end. I'm trying to wriggle away but I can't get anywhere like this. I resort to begging.

  "Please, oh god no, please please Sir, please I can't, I can't, no no no more, please stop please please!!" I'm trying desperately to get away. But all I can do is rock forwards and then back again. I'm exhausted.

  "Please," I can barely speak, "please Sir. I'll do anything Sir. Just please stop," through the squeals and panting I managed to keep begging. Finally you stop. My head hangs down, my wrists pulling a bit on my bonds. You reach up and check my wrists, adjusting the rope to give more slack and placing it in my hands for something to hold onto.

  "Thank you Sir," my voice is rough and you bring me a glass of water, helping me sip it slowly. So gentle yet so sadistic. The contrast is confusing yet I know deliberate.

  "Anything?"

  I hear the challenge and begin to regret my desperate promise. But I know you'll hold me to it.

  "Yes Sir, anything," I repeat before I even realise my mouth has opened. My masochistic side is fighting it's way out.

  "Hmm, absolutely anything," you say, circling me twice, stopping to stand behind me. "Anything?" Your question is asked directly in my ear this time, making me jump at your proximity.

  "Yes Sir," I confirm.

  "You might regret that promise little sub. I'll keep it in mind though," you whisper, threading your fingers into my hair and pulling back hard, kissing my exposed throat. I moan, forgetting the promise of anything for now. Distracted by you in the here and now.

  Letting go of my hair you step away again. Once in front of me you've collected a small bundle of items. Slowly, you start to show them to me. A ball gag. Nipple clamps. Some clips you use as weights. The pin wheel. Body tape you use as a blindfold. The clit clamp. I'm nervous now. You're using everything possible on me.

  "I'm going to push you over the edge this time little sub. I want everything from you. And I want you to take everything I give you. Can you do that? For me?" You hands go to my breasts and start playing with my nipples. I nod as you pinch my nipple. You twist and I scream.

  "Say it."

  "Yes Sir. I can do that for you," I get out before I cry out in pain again, your hand cruelly twisting the same nipple again.

  "Good girl," you say as your lips enclose around my abused nipple. Soothing yet hurting at the same time. I'm beyond any intelligible response and simply let myself give in to you, to the pleasure and satisfaction I know you'll bring.

  You take your time adorning my body with the pocket of tricks, talking softly to yourself the whole time, unnerving me and making me wary.

  "Ball gag last I think, hmm, yes, definitely last," I hear you mutter as I yelp and gasp as your fingers harshly continue playing with my nipples.

  You're enjoying hearing my reactions as much as seeing them I realise. It dawns on me then that you're going to make this difficult for me. I'm gripping onto the ropes above my head, in some sort of desperate attempt to channel everything into them instead of absorbing it into myself. It's useless, but I do it anyway. The rope is rough against my skin, but not tight, I'm in no worry that it'll do damage. I'm safe. I keep telling myself that. I'm safe with you.

  "Let's see what we can really do with this," you're muttering again, bringing me out of the haze of my mind. You've got the clit clamp in your hand and you're staring directly at my pussy. Using the fingers of one hand you pull back my lips and the hood, exposing my most sensitive spot. Placing the clamp either side, you start to tighten it, leaving me partially exposed as you do. The pressure builds until it's a gentle tight feeling. The clamp and the little charm hangs from it, pulling lightly. I moan in pleasure, but I know it'll build and build until it's taken off when it'll make me dizzy as the bloody rushes back. You flick it for a few moments, watching as that send little jolts of pleasure through my body. Unexpectedly you thrust a finger deep inside me, curving it forward, hitting my gspot and making me squirm against you.

  "Oh Sir, that feels good," I exclaim.

  You move slowly, maddeningly so, making me try to hump against your hand for more despite my limited movement. Your hand disappears as quickly as it came, filling me with disappointment.

  I'm mid sigh when I feel your finger rubbing across my lips, "taste yourself." I hear your command just as my tongue comes out to lick your finger. My juices are spread on my lips like a slutty lip balm, my cheeks blush as I taste myself on your finger.

  "You're absolutely dripping wet little sub," you tell me, "you just love this. You love getting treated like this, like a fuck toy. A fuck toy for my amusement. I wonder just how wet you'll get. We both know pain just adds to your arousal don't we?"

  I meet your gaze, trying to decide whether you want an answer or not. You look expectant. I start to nod slowly, "yes it does Sir."

  "What does what?" You want a detailed answer.

  "Pain adds to my arousal Sir. Pain turns me on," I reply, mild embarrassment creeping in. However much we've done together, I still find this the hardest part to come to terms with.

  "Like this?" You ask, confusing me for a second before your hand makes contact with my left breast, slapping hard, making it tingle and burn.

  I cry out, but it's quickly followed by a moan of desire.

  "Answer me," you demand, your hand coming down on the exact same spot.


  "Yes, yes, just like that Sir. And every other way possible Sir."

  I'm torn between wanting more and that being enough for now. My breasts are sensitive and the burning slaps are only making them more so. I'm worried about the clamps, whether I'll be able to take them.

  "Just how much pain do you like? You stopped me once when I made you cry," your hand caresses me cheek now, "yet now you seem to crave that level. That's pretty depraved isn't it? I mean, what would your friends think if they knew? If they knew that you let a man tie you up and slap you and a spank you and fuck you until you're a sobbing mess? That you cum over and over again for that man because he does exactly those things to you. What would they think?"