by Morgan Wolfe
“December ninth.”
“Sir.”
“December ninth, Sir.”
“Well, you’re a very pretty girl, Emmie. Do you know that?”
Strangely, the compliment flustered her. She didn’t know how to respond, except that she should say something. It would be rude not to. “Uh, nobody’s called me a girl in a long time, Sir.”
“Well, that’s a shame. For right now, you’re going to be my little girl.”
“Yes, sir.” She was starting to feel strange, as if she was getting younger and smaller. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to fight the feeling. That’s all it was really. Just a feeling. She was still big. She was a big girl!
“And you’ll do everything I tell you.”
“Uh…”
“Won’t you, Emmie?”
“Uh, yes, Sir.” His voice seemed to keep getting… bigger. And she just kept getting smaller.
“Because you’re a good little girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeth, sir.”
He leaned over her and she felt him slip something around her neck. A moment later he tightened it. Then she heard a metallic snap.
He stepped back. “Do you know what that is, Emmie?”
She smelled fresh leather, felt a tightness around her throat. “Is it a cah, cowwah…” She was having trouble with some words. She couldn’t say them right. “A cah… “
“Yes, it’s a collar. It’s a dog collar. Do you know why I put it on you?”
“No, sir.”
“Because, Emmie, you’re my bitch now.”
“I am, Sir?”
“Yes. That collar is going to stay on you all the time, day and night, until I get my diploma. I locked it just now. The only way you can get it off is to cut the leather. And if you do that, I’ll know and I’ll be very angry. And we don’t want that, do we?”
“No, Sir! But, but…”
“But what?”
“People will see it!”
“Just wear something that covers it up. It’s cold. No one will think it’s odd to be wearing a turtleneck or a scarf.”
“But I don’t wanna wear a cowwah,” she whined. She sniffled. “Please, Sir. Don’t make me wear it.”
“Sorry.”
“Pleaasse, Sir? Pretty please with sugar on it?”
“No and don’t ask again. “
In that small part of her mind that was still functioning like an adult, Emma felt not only frightened but humiliated. Bent over the desk in her own office, ass exposed, collared like an animal, called an animal. And now she was talking like a four-year-old! Sir was regressing her. The observer in her adult mind realized that although she didn’t want to wear the collar, much less be beaten, she accepted his right to do to her what he chose. In psychology circles, they’d say she’d internalized Woody’s authority.
Fuck psychologists! She hated everybody! Well, everybody but Sir. She began to cry.
Woody patted her on the ass. “Now you’re going to need to be a brave girl. Do you think you can do that?”
“I… I don’t know, Sir.”
“Will you try? For me?”
“Yeth, sir. I’ll twy for you. I’ll twy weal hard!”
“That’s my girl!” he said with real affection.
Then he hit her.
Punishing Little Emmie
It stung! When little Emmie was six she’d been stung by a bee. The pain came out of nowhere, no buzz of warning. One moment she was playing in the backyard, the next she hurt and hurt.
This was the same. Sir was being so sweet to her and then, all of a sudden she hurt!
“Ohh!” she gasped.
“Wait a moment,” Sir said. “The pain will lessen. Count to ten.”
She counted. “One… two… thwee…” When she was done, she realized the worst of it had faded.
“How does it feel now?”
“Not like it did, Sir.”
“If I wait between blows, you’ll have time to get over the worst before I hit you again. That’s the humane way to beat someone.”
“Is that what you’re going to do, Sir?”
“Oh no, Emmie.”
Crack!
“Ahhhh!”
“I’m going to hit you fast and hard.”
Crack! Crack!
“Ohhhhh!”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”
Three blows landed in quick succession, one on the right buttock, the other on the left, then the right again. Her ass was on fire!
Crack! Crack! Crack!
A blow on the left butt, then right butt, then the left again! It burned like she was sitting on coals!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!” She screeched at the pain. “Oh, please stop, Sir. I’ll never be bad again. Never, never!”
He ignored her, swinging the paddle again and again.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Left, right, left! “Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!” This time all three blows landed on her left butt! Emmie was in a dazed, foggy state of mind but her body was on high alert, registering every blow, tracing the hurt as it radiated from the point of impact to join with the pain from previous blows. It was like heat, making her bottom feel overheated, as if sunburned. She began to sweat from the extreme warmth.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Three more blows on her right butt.
“Ohh! Ohhh!” She had to get away! Run! Hide!
Frantically, she raised her upper body from the desk and for once her body obeyed. She was on her feet, pushing away from the desk when she felt Woody’s hand against her back. He shoved her hard and she fell back on the desk.
She felt his hand in her hair. He gripped it and pulled her head back and up. He leaned over so she could see his face. “You caught me off guard, Emmie. That won’t happen again.” She felt his other hand grip her collar. He yanked it and the pressure cut off her air.
“Gukkkk!”
“You’re my bitch, Emmie. My. Bitch. Do you understand?”
The collar, too tight. She couldn’t speak. “Gukkk!”
He let go of the collar. “Do you?”
She gasped for air. “Yeth… yeth, sir.”
His eyes locked on hers and she felt the force of his will inside her mind. He was right. She was helpless. He was stronger than her, much stronger. Much bigger. She was little and small. She was his little girl. She belonged to him. Sir could do as he wanted with this bitch. All night long.
Woody studied Emma’s face, head raised from the desk by his fist in her hair. She was staring back at him, pupils huge, tears streaking her cheeks. She looked scared and vulnerable, even childlike. And something else. Submissive. Yes, that was it. She still struggled, trying to escape the pain. But she wasn’t fighting him. He’d mastered her.
He liked the feel of her hair, soft and silky like her daughter’s. He pulled her head back further. She winced, shutting her eyes as if she could shut out the pain.
“Open your eyes, Emmie.”
She obeyed. “Look at me.” She turned her head as far as she could, big blue pupils filling the corners of her eyes, staring at him with an animal intensity. His bitch.
“Open your mouth, Emmie,”
She obeyed and he thrust his fingers in her mouth. She flinched at the intrusion.
“Suck my fingers.” Her lips closed on them and she began to suck, tentatively at first and then with real energy. He shoved his hand further in her mouth. She gasped but kept it up, teeth and lips tight around him.
Then she did something he didn’t expect. He was simply testing her, asserting his will to see if she resisted. Far from resisting, she closed her eyes and started making little sounds. “Hm, hmm, hmmm.”
She was mewing, just like a kitten.
He felt his cock stiffen. Nuh-uh! Time for that later maybe, but right now he needed to finish the job at hand. He took his hand out of her mouth and pushed her head back on t
he table. “Don’t try to get up again, Emmie. Do you understand?”
“Yeth, sir.… Sir?”
“What?”
“I like it when you do that, Sir.”
“Put my hand in your mouth?”
“Yeth, sir. I like it.”
“I see. Well, let’s see how you like this.” He picked up the paddle and swung hard.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”
She twisted and squirmed but stayed flat.
He was hitting her with real force now. Her ass had turned a bright, vivid red.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! OHHHH!”
Something different about that last cry. What? Her voice was higher, shriller. What was going on?
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! Oh my doodness!”
He glanced down. He could see the desk between her open legs. It shone. Why? He touched it and felt moisture. It shone because it was reflecting light. He put his hand to her pussy, which responded to his touch by pushing against his hand.
She was wet! The bitch was actually getting aroused!
He didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. Whichever, the discovery made his hard dick get harder. He swung the paddle.
Crack!
“Ohhh!”
“Emmie, you whore! You like this, don’t you?”
“Like what, Sir?”
“You’re wet! This is getting you hot!”
“Uh, is it, Sir?” She sounded genuinely surprised. She probably was. She wasn’t thinking like a mature woman right now. It was her body, which at the moment was in a sense older than her mind, that was responding to the pain. He swung again.
The blows hurt and then again they didn’t hurt. Just at the point where they’d become unbearable, Emmie felt a rush of endorphins that enveloped her in a feverish euphoria. It swept over her, flushing buried guilt from her subconscious just like the sweat carried toxins out of her body.
Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh!”
“You nasty little girl!”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh! My doodness!”
“Say it! Say, ‘I’m a nasty little girl!”
Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh. I’m a nasty little girl, Sir!”
She had been bad. It was bad, so bad, to put her own name on Paul’s work. The guilt had eaten at her for years. Sometimes she had nightmares where he came back to publically accuse her. It was right that she be punished. And who better to punish her than the inheritor of the mantle of Otto Popper, the distinguished scientist whom she’d harassed into an early grave.
Crack! Crack!
“Ohhh! Ohhh!”
“Bitch in heat! Say it!”
“I’m a bitch, Sir.”
“Bitch in heat!”
“A bitch in heat, Sir.”
With every blow her guilt diminished a little. The pain was cleansing her. She no longer dreaded it. She craved it.
Crack!
“Ohhhh!”
“Filthy slut!”
“I’m a filthy slut, Sir!”
Crack!
“Ohhhh!”
“Filthy, nasty, sick little bitch!”
“I’m a filthy, nasty, sick little bitch, Sir.”
She was bad, but no longer a bad woman who stole credentials and schemed for promotion. She was a bad, nasty slut of a little girl and she liked this new identity. It was not only more bearable, it was more fun.
Crack! Crack!
“Whaaa! Whaaaaa!”
She began to wail, childish sobs pouring out of her.
“Whaaaaa!
A wild, churning storm of heat and emotion spread throughout her, turning her mind to mush. Her ass was aflame. Her little pussy was aflame. All of her was aflame, heat filling her every orifice.
“WHAAAAAA!”
Heat of pleasure! Heat of lust! Heat of pain!
“WHAAAAAA!”
Woody put down the paddle. He was drenched in sweat. So was Emma. So was Emma’s ass, which was shiny and crimson. It was time to stop.
“Whaaaaaa!”
She was making too much noise. Someone in the hall might hear her. The bitch was too far gone for spoken commands. He mentally willed her to be quiet but it did no good. She’d passed into a state of excitement and childishness that couldn’t be reached, at least not right now. He’d have to gag her.
He walked around the desk and picked up the pantyhose, bunching it in his hand. Too small. It would do to hold a gag in place but he needed something to stuff in her mouth. He looked around. Nothing. He opened the door to the anteroom, where Becky sat quietly in the darkness. “Hi, Becky. How’s it going?”
“Just fine, Mr. Goodman. What’s up with Dr. Starke? She upset?”
“She’s fine. I had to give her a beating is all.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Are you wearing panties or pantyhose?”
“Panties.”
“Take them off and give them to me, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll just pop to the ladies room and be right back.”
“I can’t wait. I need them to gag Dr. Starke. Just take them off here.”
“Uh, okay. Would you mind, uh… looking the other way?”
Woody turned his back to her. “Sorry. How’s this?”
“Fine.”
A moment later Becky chirped. “You can look.” She held out a pair of pink cotton panties.
“Perfect. Thanks, Becky.”
“No problem!”
Woody went back in the office.
“Whaaaa! Whaaaa! Whaaaaaa!”
She was still lying on the desk, wailing loudly, even though he’d stopped hitting her. He balled the panties and pushed them into her mouth, shutting her up in mid-wail. Then he looped the pantyhose around her head, slipped it between her teeth and jerked hard so that it pulled her lips back, forcing the panties deep against her throat. He knotted the hose behind her neck. That did the trick.
“mmmmph… mmmmph… mmmmph.”
He doubted her muffled sobs could be heard even in the anteroom and certainly not in the hallway. “Look at me, Emmie,” he told her. Somewhat to his surprise, she heard and complied, lifting her head to stare at him through teary eyes, mouth cruelly cleaved by the pantyhose.
His cock stiffened. He smiled; having the power to rudely silence the woman he used to fear and loathe was a real turn-on. He’d never done bondage, hadn’t even given it much thought. His fantasies were more mainstream, the most daring of them nothing racier than maybe a pair of girls. This though, this was sort of exciting.
The two legs of the pantyhose hung loose behind Emma’s neck where he’d knotted them in place. He took her arms, lying limp on the desk beside her body, and crossed them behind her back. Then he used the legs to bind her wrists tightly together, which held them at the small of her back and pulled back her head so it was raised off the desk.
He stepped back to admire his work. “Emmie, look at me.” She obeyed, blinking at tears, still sobbing under the gag. Her eyes were red and there were lines in her forehead. It was probably uncomfortable, maybe even a little painful, having her head pulled back like that. Too bad! The idea of causing his onetime nemesis pain and discomfort made his cock harder.
She was drooling. He guessed that the gag made it hard to swallow. He dug out his phone and took a photo. Nice shot! He held the phone so she could see it. “Don’t worry,” he laughed. “I won’t tell anyone you’re kinky! This will be our little secret.”
“Nuhh… yuhhh… guhhhh – guhhhh!”
She was trying to tell him something between sobs but he couldn’t make it out. He strolled back behind her. Her ass positively glowed. He stuck his finger in her slit. Still wet. Good. He unzipped and his eager cock shoved its way through his pants. Her bound arms made a convenient handle. He gripped them and pulled her backward, pressing his own body forward.
His cock was getting ha
rder by the second! “Smell fresh pussy, don’t you, boy?” He chuckled. “This is prime MILF.” He put his hands around Emma’s thighs and pulled them apart. “Go get her!”
He plunged his cock through Emma’s hair and past her folds and into her slit. The muffled wailing abruptly stopped and she screeched in surprise. “NUHHHH!”
He shoved again, pulling her against him. Another screech. What a noisy bitch.
Little Emmie felt Sir put his thing inside her and she shrieked because no one had done that in ever so long. He was so big! It hurt at first but then it started to feel nice and she liked it. His thing grew and grew until he filled her up everywhere. Then he started to pull his thing out and she squeezed tight around him because she didn’t want him to leave, but then he put it back in real fast, so fast his cock punched her insides hard and made her yell – or try to.
Her bottom was so sore that it throbbed painfully whenever he slammed into her. Then again, once he was all the way in, her pussy felt so good. Everything he did made her feel both good and bad at the same time and she made noise both from pleasure and pain. She yelled and cried and shrieked and screamed and squealed and sobbed and begged and beseeched and complained and because he’d put something in her mouth, all her noises sounded the same:
“Nuhhh!”
“Mmmmph!”
“Guffff!”
“Mumphhhh!”
“Thuhhhhh!”
She didn’t like the gag, which was uncomfortable and smelly. Besides hurting her mouth, it was tied on the other end to her wrists, which pulled her entire head back and made her neck hurt. She had no choice but to endure it though. It was for her own good. Sir knew best. He was her Master and she was nothing but his bitch.
Woody hammered the bitch until her juices made a puddle on the desk. My God, she was one wet cunt! He finally pulled out just as she began to tremble violently, which probably meant she was about to climax. He didn’t want that, at least not yet. She had one more hole he wanted to fill.
He’d attempted anal sex only one time before and the girl was so nervous she’d insisted that both of them be “lubed up” with KY jelly. They wound up so slick that his cock kept sliding off her rectum. He didn’t think KY was necessary this time. He was already wet with Emma’s vaginal juice. It might be a little painful but nothing she couldn’t handle.