by Dan Moran
“There,” she said softly, running the finger across my lips for a moment. “Now, I want you to get up and go over to that chair.”
I walked across the room to our large lounge chair which faced the couch. When I got there, I turned around and looked at her, awaiting her command. She smiled at me, saying nothing for a few seconds; I could see her staring with pleasure at my dick as it swayed stiffly, pointing at her. Finally, she said, “Sit.”
When I did, she went on. “I see that you’re aroused. Do I turn you on?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m glad. And do you like wearing the collar?”
“Yes,” I said again, this time in a choking whisper.
“I thought so. You love me and adore me, and you love being mine. You want to be mine. You lust to be all mine.”
“Oh God yes.”
“Show me. Show me how much this turns you on. I want you to beat off. I want you to stroke that stiff cock of yours for my enjoyment.”
I slid my right hand down my belly and gripped the base of my erection, squeezing and smiling at Justine. I caressed my shaft with both hands, rubbing my knob with my left palm, my right beginning to slide up and down.
“Oh that’s it,” Justine whispered forcefully. “Oooo yes, stroke that fat cock. Show me how much you love to obey me. Show me how you love to be collared. Come on. Jerk off for me. Spread your legs wider so I can see. Let me watch you fondle your balls.”
I did as she commanded, panting with pleasure as she sat forward on the couch across the room, sipping wine and lustfully staring as she made me masturbate. The purplish head of my penis was slick now, and my circled thumb and fingers slid easily over it as I pumped faster and harder. I closed my eyes and starting moaning, feeling the first faint hints of the orgasm to come. Then I heard a loud, “Stop.”
I let go of my dick and opened my eyes, panting. “That’s enough of that,” she said. “Now you need to be spanked. And I want to show you some other things.” She looked at me sternly. “You do want to be spanked, don’t you?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Then show me,” she said, pointing to another corner of the room. I saw the paddle on the floor. “Bring it to me,” she said.
I started to get up out of the chair, but she pointed at me and said, “No, not like that. No standing. Hands and knees only.”
I slid out of the chair, crawling toward the spot where the paddle lay. I grabbed it with my right hand and started to crawl toward her, but she said, “Wrong again! Put that back! Did I say you could use your hands? Now pick it up properly and bring it to me. I’ll have to give you extra spanks for being so defiant!”
I caught on to her meaning, or so I hoped. I placed the paddle carefully in the exact spot it had occupied, then lowered my head and clamped my teeth around the handle. I crawled slowly toward the couch, carrying the paddle in my mouth. “That’s better,” Justine said. “Now be a good boy and come to me. Bring me that paddle so I can smack your ass with it. You know you deserve it.”
When I finally arrived at the couch, still on all fours and with my head between her knees, she said, “That’s far enough. Now turn to your right.”
I did this, and she leaned forward and began spanking me hard with her right hand. “There!” she said. “This is what you get! for disobeying and defying me! Touching me when I never told you to! Using your hands when I never said you could. Bad, bad! If you’re going to be so bad, this is what you’re going to get!” Smack smack spank splat...
“Rrrgghhh!” I grunted as her hard palm smacked my bare cheeks, the paddle still held between my teeth.
“Now,” she said, pausing, “I’m going to go get the wine bottle. Don’t move from that spot.” I watched her walk slowly and saucily out of the room and into the kitchen, looking back at me once and winking with a wicked smile on her face. She returned a moment later with the bottle of Barolo and sat down.
She inserted a finger into one of the rings on my collar, tugging my head toward her slightly as she leaned down and said, “Now I want you to remain very still. I’m going to refill our glasses, and I don’t want any spilled on our nice carpet.” She released the collar, and I felt the slight chill of a glass being placed on my lower back. She placed the second glass higher up on my spine. I still held the paddle in my mouth and tried not to drool around it as I heard and felt Justine begin to pour the wine slowly into the glasses. “Hmm,” she said, “maybe a little more...,” and she splashed more wine, a very little at a time, into each glass in alternation. “There,” she said finally. “That’s about right. Now, let me see the color of the wine.” I could tell that she was leaning forward, gazing at the glasses up close, but I dared not move my head to try to see better.
“A very deep red,” she said after some consideration. I was fighting down my excited trembling, incredibly horny at everything she was doing, but not daring to upset any of the wine. I worried that just the pulsing of my cock might be enough to spill some.
“Now, let me see it in the candlelight. That’s what one does, right? Hold the wine against a candle to get a different idea of its colors?” I heard a faint scrape of metal on wood and knew she must have picked up one of the candles. Then I grunted around the paddle as I once again felt hot wax splash onto my bare skin. This time she did not simply stop at a few drops but held the candle over the same area of my lower back, moving it only just enough so that fresh skin would feel the wax. I whimpered, but Justine ignored me. “Mmm, it’s just like you say. There are tones of lighter, almost brick red near the edges, where the wine’s surface meets the glass...” The wax dripped and spattered, small points of searing heat that turned strangely cold after a second, and I groaned in delicious pain as I strove to remain still. Her voice only grew softer as my pain grew more intense. “And at the very edge,” she almost whispered, “the wine has the thinnest line of clear...” Drip drip splat...
She sat up, picking up the glass from my upper back. “Now let me taste it, slowly and carefully, like you’re always saying I should do. After all, this is Barolo; I should spend some time savoring it, contemplating it. I can’t drink it too fast.” Then I felt something else on my back where her glass had been. It was the candlestick.
She leaned back on the couch, and I heard her sipping. The other glass was still on my lower back, so I still couldn’t move. Now, too, the candle was resting on my upper back, as if I were some kind of dinner table. “A bouquet with a strong suggestion of roses,” Justine said slowly as the first rivulets of wax ran down the candlestick and rolled down my back.
“NNNNNnnnnnhhhhh....” I panted, my saliva beginning to drip around the handle of the paddle.
“But I also get hints of tar,” she went on, oblivious to my pain. “And I think some leather is mixed in there, too.” A thin stream of the wax began to work its way down my left shoulder, descending on to my arm. I could see it now. I controlled my quivering and whimpering with increasing difficulty, as Justine sipped and said in a sensuous voice, “Oh, that’s lovely. Oh God, yes. Absolutely lovely...”
After what felt like a half hour, she finally finished off her glass, took the candle away, picked up the other glass, and said, “OK, that’s enough. Now some wine for you. Drop the paddle on the table. Kneel before me, tilt back your head, and open your mouth.”
I worked my way slowly into a kneeling position in front of her and between her legs, my limbs stiff from being in the same position for so long. I looked up at her and opened wide, watching her take a long swig of the wine. She looked down at me with pursed lips, cheeks slightly bulging, and with one hand she grabbed my jaw, tilting my head back even more. I let her put me where she wanted, my mouth waiting—my whole being waiting—for her to do what she would. She lowered her head until it was several inches above mine, then began spitting a steady stream of wine into my mouth. I gulped and lapped as much as I could, but some spilled onto my face and dribbled down my throat. Once she had given me all that she held in
her mouth, she licked from my skin all that had spilled. Then she gave me a long, hard kiss, yanking my face forward by pulling the collar closer to her.
“Now,” she said when she had finished. “Stand up and empty that bag onto the table.”
I rose to my feet, my erection truly aching now. I’d been fully hard for a long time, and the blood pounding in my swollen genitals was painful but wonderful at the same time. I grabbed the black plastic bag that had held the collar, and I slowly and carefully shook out its contents on to the coffee table. I heard clinking and rattling and saw small bits of chain and metal rings and leather. My dick leaped even higher.
“Now,” said my lover, “these are restraints. I’m going to restrain you. I’m going to bind your hands and bind your feet and bind anything else I see fit to bind. I’m going to tie you up in a thousand ways and enjoy the sight of your naked helplessness, and I’m going to have my way with you. Understood?”
“Yes,” I managed to whisper.
“Good. Now, hand me that larger set of leather cuffs with the short chain between them. Yes, those. Give them to me and tell me you want me to use them. Say, ‘Please put these on me and restrain my legs.’ ”
I shakily handed her the restraints, echoing her words, “Please, put these on me and restrain my legs.”
“Very well,” she said, and she wrapped each one above my ankles, buckling them into place, then tugging on the chain to make sure everything held tight. The cuffs were wide, the leather reaching halfway up my calves.
“There,” she said. “All snug. Now, hand me the other ones, and beg me to restrain you.”
I handed them over, trembling with anticipation, and said, “Please, please cuff me. Please restrain my arms. I’m begging you. I’m begging you to bind me, my love.”
“Well, since you ask so nicely,” she said with a smile, “turn around.” I shuffled with shackled legs into a standing position facing away from her and felt a powerful smack on my ass. “Hands behind your back!” she ordered, and I complied with full enthusiasm. I felt her buckle the wide leather cuffs around my wrists, picking away at some of the wax as she did so. Then she clipped some things into place and smacked me on the ass again. I tested the cuffs and found I could not move my hands or arms.
“Now turn around again,” she told me, and I did. “Mmm, look at that. All bound and naked for my pleasure. I can do whatever I want to you now. I can play with your naked body to my heart’s content, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I nodded, licking my lips with enjoyment. She reached up with her right hand to brush my left nipple lightly. Suddenly, she pinched it hard, saying, “I can do this!”
“Ow!” I shouted.
“Ooo, so that hurt? Good. You love it, I know. You love being my collared plaything.” She grabbed my dick then and began jerking rapidly with a strong grip. I gritted my teeth as she squeezed and pulled, jacking me off roughly with a smile on her face. “And this is mine, too,” she said. “This is my toy. You’re my toy. Your cock and your balls and your whole body belong to me.”
“Yes...” I said, wincing a little.
“I’m glad you agree. Now come here.” She took hold of my waist and pulled me over her lap. “Now,” she said, picking up the paddle, “this is the way to spank. Now your ass is all mine, and I can do whatever I want as long as I want, and I don’t even have to work to hold you still. You’re just helpless, lying there all tied up with your naked ass upturned on my lap for my spanking pleasure.”
Tap! She began softly. Swat! Smack! “Oh!” I cried.
“You can’t move, can you?” she went on. “You can’t do anything to get out of my grip. I can just smack and whack and spank you to my heart’s content...” And that was exactly what she did, swatting my buttocks steadily with the paddle for a very long time. The sting was intense, and eventually I did squirm as much as I could, not being able to help myself, but she was right: I could do nothing. She could spank me all night if she wanted to. Despite the increasing pain, I almost hoped that she would.
“Now,” she said during a brief pause, “I think I remember using a hairbrush on you as well. Here it is. Let’s see how you like this!”
“Aaaaoooow!” I yelped at the first hard smack.
“Oooo, I love that sound...” she said. “My plaything has a sore ass, and it’s going to get even more sore. I just love it.” Smack spank swat spank splat smack...
“Ah! Agh! Oooo! Oh! Ow!” I kept crying out involuntarily, my buns definitely burning, my legs straining to wriggle but held tight by the bonds.
“Well, you seem to be protesting quite a bit! As if you didn’t want this! As if you didn’t need it! Well, I don’t care! You’re mine now, and you’re going to get it! You hear me? Your whole body is mine, and that includes this cute little ass!!!” She picked up the pace, really spanking with enthusiasm now, and it really did hurt. Still, I did not utter the word that would make it all stop. I loved every bit of this and enjoyed being her plaything. I still yelped with pain, though.
“Hmm!” she said, stopping. “That’s a lot of yelling from you. I think we need to change things up a bit. Come on, off my lap and stand up.” She helped me to my feet, then stood up herself. “Follow me,” she said, then reached behind her to grab my dick and pull me along.
“Aaahhhh....” I winced.
“That’s enough from you!” she said. “Just come to the bedroom.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and undid the short chain that connected the two cuffs on my legs, but she left the cuffs themselves on. I made my way up the stairs, following her and admiring her ass as she ascended the steps ahead of me. God, she looked great in that skirt!
When we got to the top of the stairs, she pushed open the bedroom door and stepped in, again giving me a tug by the cock to pull me along. I stood there amazed while she walked around behind me and undid the short chain that held my wrist restraints clipped together.
She had really gone all out with this. I could see hand and wrist restraints at the corners of our bed, but not tied to the bedposts: They appeared to be connected underneath the mattress itself. On the bed were a blindfold of black suede, an assortment of feathers of many different colors and sizes, some more leather cuffs, some metal cuffs, and various chains and clips and gadgets I couldn’t quite make out in the low light. “I’m impressed,” I said.
She smiled at me. “I thought you would be.” She stood before me again, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and kissed me deeply. I naturally put my arms around her, but then she pulled away.
“What did I tell you?” she demanded.
“Um... that I can’t touch you unless you tell me to?”
“That’s correct. At least while you wear that collar; that’s the rule. So you admit that you remember the rule, but simply ignored it?”
“Well...” I began.
“No excuses,” she cut me off. “You definitely need more punishment. I’ll show you how much I love having you collared. You’ll see what it is to be mine. Now, I want you to step back just a bit.”
I shuffled backwards a little, then noticed some shiny objects on the floor. Looking more closely, I saw that they were metal rings attached to small square metal plates that were screwed into the floorboards. She had really done a lot to this room. No wonder she’d wanted me out of the house for so long.
“Yes, that’s right, my dear,” she said, seeing me looking down. “Those are there to hold you in place. To hold you with your legs spread. Now look up.”
I did and saw more rings affixed to the ceiling: Two on either side of me, just above the ones in the floor, and one directly above me.
I looked back at her, and she was grinning evilly. “Oh yes, my pet,” she said. “You’re going to be chained up for real. Now, spread those legs. Get those cuffs next to the rings.”
I did so, trembling with fearful excitement. She bent down over each ankle and clipped me into place. “Now get your hands up,” she ordered, and she clipped my wrist cuffs into
the ceiling rings with short chains. When she took a step back to admire her work, I was completely bound and immobile, my stretched naked body forming a large X. I panted with anticipation as she sat on the bed, which I faced.
“God, I love your body,” she declared. “Look at those lean muscles. Look at those balls. Look at that thick, throbbing cock, just eager for my warm, wet flesh, wanting so badly to thrust into me. Look at your totally helpless nakedness. And it’s mine. All mine.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s yours, my love. I’m all yours. Please have your pleasure with me.”
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry,” she said, rising and approaching me with the crop in her hand. She flicked it against my chest, walking around and tapping my torso from a variety of angles. The flicks were fairly light, but I gasped at each one. She worked her away around me, whipping my back lightly, going up and down, but staying above my buttocks. Continuing her circle, she flicked my calves, then my thighs, then stopped in front of me to stick the crop’s leather tip just under my balls, lifting them lightly and making me squirm to the limited extent possible in my position. I nearly came right then and there, but did not quite make it.
“Such lovely balls,” she said, staring at them and bouncing them slightly up and down with the crop. She gave them a couple of light taps from underneath, but with balls, even a light tap is a lot.
“Aaaahhh!” I cried, my whole body tensing.
“Oh, did I hurt them?” she said, looking at me. She spoke normally.
“A little,” I said, gasping.
“Then let me make them better,” she said, dropping to her knees and giving my scrotum soft, warm licks.
“Ohhhh...” I moaned as she lapped my aching balls. “Oh yes... ooo that’s good...”
She stood up suddenly. “Okay, time for some punishment.” She walked behind me and, without any further talk, began whipping my ass hard with the crop. I winced and grunted, lurching forward a little with each vicious slash, unconsciously trying to get away from the crop even though I loved it. Swish! Crack! went the crop, ten times, then twenty, and she showed no sign of letting up. My eyes began tearing up a little from the stinging pain, and I could not help crying out more loudly. I started to wonder how much my ass could take.