He touched my face gently, tracing away from the corner of my eye to the corner of my mouth. I closed my eyes as his hand felt my lips, and then rested on my cheek. "You are pretty," he said.
"Thankyou."
"Excuse me?" He sounded upset, and looked at me sternly.
I corrected myself: "Thankyou, master."
He jerked his head up in a brief nod. "Better." He looked at me critically, his eyes fumbling down over my skin. "I want you to stand." I did so, and he looked at me fully. He wasn't ashamed of watching my breasts as I breathed; he had no reason to be. He stood and slowly circled the bed, so he was beside me. I didn't move. He walked around me, examining every part, stopping directly behind me.
His fingertips trickled down my bare sides and I shivered. His hands stopped and remained on my waist. "Remove your bra." I did so, with his hands still on me, touching me. He then it in one hand and put it aside.
For a moment we stood, him directly behind me with his hands on my hips now. Gently, he pushed me toward the bed. "Lie across the bed." I lay down silently. There was a small mound in the sheets, pre-placed pillows stomach to raise me from the bed slightly.
The clamps felt cold as he locked them around my ankles. When he came around to the front of me I could see his bare legs; he had taken his trousers off. He knelt slowly, giving me a glimpse of his cock; I couldn't look without asking. He cuffed my hands, also, to the bed, and then blindfolded me. "No peaking. I know you do, and you're a very naughty girl."
"I am sorry."
"We'll see what happens to bad girls."
I gasped slightly, more in excitement than fear. I lay spread-eagle, my flimsy lace panties becoming damper; I felt so exposed, and at once complete and secure with him.
For a moment, there were vague noises of movement as he unpacked what he needed and prepared. He never liked to get his equipment too ready until I was ready, so there was no way I could see what he had in store for me. I felt the bed move under his wait, and knew he was beside me.
His hands flickered along me once more, down my back. I shuddered, and I knew I was getting wetter. My breathing was becoming loud and, in part, gasps. He touched the insides of my legs, tracing my calves. Then he stopped.
There was a pause, so long, it seemed, that I wondered where he was. I heard nothing but my own breaths, and felt no change. Then there was a cold rip as he tore one side of my panties. "You do wear such silly little things."
"Yes, master," I barely managed to say.
"Pardon?"
"Yes, Master!" I cried as he tore the other side. "I would change them if they displease you, master!"
"I know you would," he said as one finger slid over the crotch of the terrible, broken panties. "You're wet." I nodded sharply. "Very wet."
"Is it wicked of me?"
I felt his finger move down between my butt cheeks and lift away the ruined cloth. "No." I felt his tongue flick between my legs, tasting the wetness. "Not at all," he said, with a tone of approval.
He sat up slightly; I could feel his weight shift on the bed. "Do you know what I like, my rose?" I tried to tell him no, I didn't know, but as I went to speak the words were torn from me by a sharp, pleasant pain as he spanked me, once on each cheek. "I like..." he hit again. "...nice..." Smack! "...round..." Smack! "...reddened..." Smack! "...bottoms." Smack! "And this is for being bad." Smack! Smack! Smack!
I gasped. Waves of pain, surprise and pleasure washed over me. "You have a most delicious bottom, when it's lovely and red. And it feels so warm." He reached forward, underneath me, grabbed my already erect nipple and twisted it between his fingers. "Do you like pain?"