"I'll be right back," he said, closing the door behind him. It wasn't a particularly foreboding statement. Lying on the bed, I twirled a lock of hair between my fingers and began singing a song to myself. My legs were spread in my usual strange (but comfortable) fashion, one leg pointed toward the wall and the other bent at the knee. I was wearing a pair of tight jeans, a fitted black t-shirt and my customary collar. The shirt outlined my large breasts, the fabric protesting against it by distorting the graphic on its front; my stomach was somewhat exposed and my hips were full and feminine in the denim of my jeans. Stray locks of auburn hair lied out in tendrils on the crimson-colored pillow behind my head.
As three or four minutes passed, I began to fantasize and daydream as often was the case when I was left alone on a bed. Thoughts left the innocent territories about what I had due for school in the next week to the darker realms of rough sex and power exchange. I dreamt of powerful hands striking soft and vulnerable flesh and lips forming humiliating words that reached my ear through whispers of hot breath. Shifting against the comforter, my right hand strayed from my hair to between my legs. I rubbed slowly, softly, so that I could barely perceive the touch. A shiver ran up my spine and a mischievous smile affected my face. Exhaling slowly, I curved my middle finger from the bottom of my crotch to the top in a "come here" motion.
A small sigh of contentment escaped my lips when I heard the door open. I moved my hand to the side, gripping the comforter. I felt somehow guilty, but in a naughty way. The smile on my face as I looked at him revealed everything and he immediately knew. He crossed his arms, not moving from the doorframe. "And what were you doing, little girl?"
"Nothing, Sir," I replied innocently, lowering my eyes. I shifted in place.
"Nothing, hmm? I think you're lying to me," he remarked quietly, eyes ablaze. Moving toward the bed, he cracked his knuckles and neck. A pang of fear pierced my stomach, the kind of fear that soaks my panties and makes my heart race. "Shouldn't you ask me before you do such things? But I suppose horny little sluts like you just can't help themselves." His voice was cool, quiet with a hint of cruelty that gave me gooseflesh; words spoken right into my ear caused my back to arch. "You need some discipline. Stand up, remove your pants and panties, and bend over the bed. Now."
Scrambling from my spot of repose, I quickly unzipped my pants and slid down my panties, letting them drop to the floor. I bent over the bed and spread my legs apart, closing my eyes tightly in anticipation. "I'm sorry, Sir... I was just fantasizing, that's all. I didn't mean to disobey," I said quietly, a submissive docility entering my voice.
"I'm disappointed in your lack of foresight, my little slave girl. At least have the courtesy to tell me what you were fantasizing about while I was away," he scolded, tracing a hand down my right ass cheek and thigh. He pinched the sensitive flesh there and I started. I could almost feel the smug smile cross his face.
