A Night To Remember 143

"Of course, I could always just spank your butt," I say, playfully.

She looks at me, mingled surprise and shocked delight on her face.

"You wish, mister," she says forcefully, poking her fingers into my breastbone.

I smile, lazily, at her, looking down at the fingers, then sliding my gaze insolently up to meet her eyes, and seeing her jerk her fingers back as I do.

I reach out, and gently caress her head, my touch slow, and soft, sensual, as I keep her eyes locked on mine.

"Would that be so bad," I ask, my tone even, as I continue to stroke her.

She looks at me, and I can see the need, the desire, in her eyes.

I keep up the slow gentle stroking, as I draw her towards me, feeling her start to lean into the movement, as she buries her head into my shoulder, hiding her face, her legs wrapping around me.

I wrap her in my arms, my finger coming down under her chin, lifting her head, so she's looking at me, her eyes like deep green pools, shining, scared, vulnerable, yet with a hidden reserve of strength. She meets my gaze firmly, yet acceptingly, ceding me control, but just for the moment.

My hand tightens in her hair, drawing her head back, and holding it steady, as I capture her lips in a kiss. She moans and arches into me, the slight pain from my grip on her hair only spurring her on.

I bring the kiss to a close, gently releasing her hair, as she stays pressed against me, her breathing heavy.

That's ok, as my own breathing is none too steady, at the moment, anyway.

I turn and walk across the room, sitting down in the armchair, taking the 'power position'.

As she straightens up and takes in my posture, I can see her recognising what I've done.

I beckon her over, and she.....slinks. It's as if all the tension has leached from her muscles, as she walks over to me, a sinuous, catlike grace to her movements, as she crosses the room, a small smile on her lips.

She keeps her eyes glued to mine, a silent battle of dominance. I smile, knowing that she's planning to make me work for this.

That's fine; I plan to make her work just as hard.

She reaches me, and stays, standing, eyes still locked on mine. I quirk one of my eyebrows at her, smile still on my face, as I extend my arm, and then point to the floor.

Holding her gaze, I maintain my pose, watching as she struggles, the challenge plain to see, but, eventually, she succumbs, sinking to her knees gracefully, with a whisper of cloth. After she's kneeling, eyes downcast, I lean forward and say, softly, "Good girl," accompanied by a head stroke.

Immediately, her gaze flashes up to mine, fire burning in her eyes.

I let a little of my fire show, my eyes burning into hers as I reach out and press my fingernail into her cheek, and slide it down, not breaking the skin, but hard enough that she feels the pressure.

I hear her gasp; still keeping her gaze locked to her mine, at the unexpected, almost-pain, as my finger slips under the curve of her jaw and draws a line across the soft, vulnerable skin underneath her chin. As I reach the other side, and drop my finger, she shudders again, and drops her gaze to my feet, once more.

I keep my voice even, as I ask her, "What do I own?"

She brings her gaze up to mine again, but soft this time, yielding.

"You own my breasts, you own my cunt, you own my ass, you own my body, you own my mind," she recites softly, keeping her liquid, green eyes on mine.

I reach out and cup her face, not roughly, but firmly.

"You give them to me?" I ask, my voice confident.

She takes a deep breath, and nods.

I slowly and gently slide the straps of her top down, pulling them down her arms, till they lay in her elbows.

Then, with a single, savage pull, I rip her top away, revealing her bra.

She gasps, sharply, as I rip the top away, her plump breasts heaving in the confines of her bra, as the adrenaline floods her system.

I smile wryly, to myself. That adrenaline will make her skin so much more sensitive.

I reach out, and gently urge her to her feet, rising with her.

I walk around behind her, sliding my hands over her back, plucking at her bra strap, feeling her flinch each time, until I finally flick the catch open with my finger, and slide the bra off her, freeing those succulent orbs.

I catch her arms as they come up automatically to shield her chest, and force them down.

"Aren't these mine, girl," I whisper into her ear, as she struggles slightly in my grip.

She stops struggling and says, "Yes", as I slide my hands up, and cup them.

"Arch your back, my girl," I whisper, and she does, pressing them firmly into my cupped hands.

"Good girl", I whisper, as I fondle her briefly, before sliding my hands down to the waistband of her skirt.

"Put your hands on your breasts," I whisper, as I play with her waistband.

She brings her hands up and grasps her breasts, as I find the zip for her skirt and slide it down.

"Play with them," I say, before I bury my face in her neck.

She moans, partly from what I'm doing, and partly from the humiliation of what I have her doing.

To drive it home, I turn her slightly so she's looking at herself in the mirror.

"That's it, nasty girl" I say, "play with yourself for me."

She moans again, her head going back and her body arching.

I wait till she subsides; panting, and then I rip off her skirt, leaving her in only her pretty, black lace panties, and her heels.

She gasps, surprised by the sudden, violent movement, and her legs suddenly buckle inward, her moans increasing in pitch as her hands continue to fondle her breasts.

I catch her, supporting her as I whisper in her ear, "Stop."

She groans, but her legs straighten, her hands fall from her breasts and she stands under her own power, her eyes finding mine in the mirror, shining with lust and pleasure.

Her face is red, and her breathing heavy, doing very interesting things to her chest as she stands in her skimpy black lace panties, my arms around her waist, my head looming above hers, the low light in the room making me seem to congeal out of the shadows, while her pale skin almost glows.

I begin to play with the waistband on her panties, and she puts her hands over mine.

"No, wait, please," she says, her tone begging, not demanding, but her hands clasp mine strongly, stopping their movement.

I flick my eyes down to her hands, and meet her gaze again, a simple question burning in my gaze.

Do you really want to do that?

Her hands leap off mine as if burned, but the words don't stop tumbling from her mouth.

"Please, please, can I keep my panties on? I.... I'm just not comfortable losing them yet, I'll do anything you want, anything at all, just please, please let me keep them."

She pauses, panting harder now, and opens her mouth to keep going.

"I ....." My finger across her lips and she quiets immediately, still keeping that unwavering gaze on me, but the challenge is of a different type now.

Where before she was challenging to take the power from her, to make her submit, now she's testing my limits, seeing how much control I'll allow her, seeing if she can feign submission, and by doing so, take control.

I keep my face impassive, and I move my hands along her waist.

I speak, suddenly, my voice even and controlled.

"This is mine, is it not?" I ask, referring to her body.

"Y...yes," she stammers, "but.." My finger silences her again.

"Just answer yes or no, girl. I don't want to hear your thoughts at the moment."

She nods, her eyes wide and staring.

This was not even remotely what she expected to happen, and she can't re-direct it.

"You gave it to me, didn't you?" my voice gains a slight edge now, a burr of anger coating it.

"Yes," she answers, her voice stronger, but her body all but melting into me.

"I can do what I please with it, can I not?"

I ask, the edge in my voice heating now, the blade of my fire slicing painlessly into her illusion of control.

"Yes....sir", she breathes, "Sir..."

My finger comes up again, and again, instant silence.

"So, girl," I continue, "If I want you to remove the panties, you will, won't you?"

And in that sentence the fire building in my voice chills instantly to ice, and I see her 'oh shit' reaction flash into her eyes.

"Yes, sir, I will," she casts her eyes down, and moves her hands up to the waistband of her panties, preparing to pull them down.

I freeze her with my voice alone.

"Did I give you an instruction, girl?"

"I... I'm sorry sir, I thought you wanted... I'm sorry!!"

Her gaze flashes up to mine, but only for an instant.

I see the confusion and fear there, for just a second, before her gaze dives down again.

I lean in to her ear, and whisper, "Don't move," before walking across the room, and picking up two things.

One is a pair of scissors, and the other is my beginner's flogger.

It looks impressive and it makes noise, but the pain factor is fairly limited.

I walk back over to her, noting that her eyes have stayed down the entire time.

She's almost in sub space now, almost down in the depths.

"Eyes up, girl," I bark, and her head flies up, fear and anticipation flashing across her face as she takes in the flogger.

"Oh,..." she moans

"Elbows at your sides, girl, and hands out," I say, my tone still even, but confident now, as if I know the resistance has been crushed for now, and she'll be eager to obey.

She swiftly, takes the position, and I lay the flogger across her hands.

She looks at me, a clear question in her gaze, before a slight quirk of my brow sends her gaze floor ward again.

I move in close behind her, running my hands over her back, sliding my nails down, and hearing her gasp, feeling her writhe as I do.

I lean forward and whisper "I've decided that your panties will stay on for now, girl..."

Before I finish my sentence, I can feel the triumph radiating from her, even her stance changes slightly.

"....but, if they come off, they are staying off, do you understand?" I finish, my tone stern.

She nods, silently, still keeping her gaze lowered, but her entire body reflects her belief that she's taken some measure of control.

"Don't drop the whip," I whisper, as I suddenly grab and handful of her hair, and force march her over to the chair I was occupying recently.

She gasps, and some of the tension goes out of her stance, as I bend her over the chair, in a 45 degree angle.

She still holds the whip, holding that position by muscle power alone, but already, she's beginning to tremble.

Slowly, I draw the scissors out of my pocket, and show them to her. Her gaze loses its arrogance, as she considers what I might be about to do.

I slide the scissors open, and taking one blade, I run it down her spine, to the accompaniment of her gasps and moans, til it slide under the elastic waistband of her panties.

Then I bring the scissors together with a snip and slice the elastic through.

I repeat the process lower down, sliding the blade up each of her thighs, collecting no little amount of her juices, as I do, before slicing the elastic that holds them to her legs as well.

Now it's only her position that keeps her panties on and I move the scissors in front of her, bringing them to her lips.

"You got your nasty juices all over my scissors, girl," I say, sternly. "Clean them off"

She doesn't even attempt to argue, the elation of thinking she'd been in charge, and the plunge of realising she wasn't, combining to slide her into the edges of subspace.

Her wet, pink tongue comes out, and laps at the scissors, carefully but thoughly, cleaning the metal of her secretions.

I throw the scissors on the floor behind me, and I take the whip from her now trembling arms, bringing it, in turn, to her lips.

"Kiss it."

She feverishly rains kisses on it, still keeping arms in the correct position, and I hold the whip to her mouth.

After about 20 seconds, I move the whip, and step back behind her.

"Take hold of the chair," I say, and raise the whip.

She squeaks, and bends forward, taking hold of the chair arms, her breathing quickening, and I swish the whip through the air, making noise, but not even touching her skin.

Then, I bring the whip forward, lightly, spinning my arm, the strokes light, almost gentle, barely reddening the skin, yet drawing gasps and moans from her as I swing.

After a few minutes of this, I take a step back, and give her a harder stroke. It lands with a crack and draws an accompanying whimper from her. I wait a ten count, and give her another.

Crack

Crack

Crack

Finally, I take another step back, and unleash a full armed swing, hitting squarely, but cocking my wrist at the end to mitigate some of the power of the blow.

CRACK

At this, she howls, her whole body convulsing and her neatly sliced panties fall to the floor, leaving her delicious, apple shaped ass, bare.

I moved up beside her, her shoulders heaving as she tried to process the surfeit of emotions and sensations that assaulted her.

The smell of her arousal was strong, and her breath came in gulped little gasps, as she shook.

I gently helped her to stand, and took her across to my bedroom, putting her in my bed, and then climbing in after her.

She snuggled herself into me, curling up like a limpet, her head resting on my shoulder as her breathing evened out and she stopped shaking.

Exhausted, we both slipped into sleep, but, as that darkness claimed me, I heard her whisper,

"Thank you.....Master"