A Very Warm Welcome

I swim up through layers of sleep to find your iron grip on my ankle.

"Wake up, little one. Your Master is here."

In a flash, I'm fully awake. I sit up joyfully and launch myself into your arms. "You made it!"

I hear your reproving chuckle. "Is that any way to greet me?" But you hold my sleepy, warm body for a minute anyway before setting me onto my knees on the mattress. "There. That's better. Hands behind you, my pet. I want to look at you."

I grin and comply, just happy that you're here. The last time we'd spoken, a few hours ago, you weren't sure if your flight would actually take off due to an early winter storm.

There's a short, sharp sting on my thigh. "Pay attention. No drifting off. Your legs should be further apart and your back arched more. Show me what a little slut you are for me."

I stretch and arch to my limit, loving this, loving your intent gaze roaming over the body you consider yours. Because I knew you were coming, I'd prepared myself for you. My skin was smooth and fragrant, fingers and toes painted, hair shiny if a bit mussed from sleep. Pussy shaved. Even though I wasn't sure if you'd arrive tonight, I'd gone to bed naked.

"Master...." I breathe, but this time you look at me with less patience.

"You do not have permission to speak unless I ask you a question," you say in that low, hard voice that does funny things to my breathing. Slowly you finish your inspection of my body. Satisfied, you take a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed. "Come and stand here," you point between your legs.

I stand and pose in the way you prefer. Your hands roam over me, knowing just what to do. You grip my ass and squeeze, hard enough that I whimper quietly. You let go and knead my breasts, which already feel tight and heavy. Your thumbs graze my nipples. My head begins to fall back, my eyes closing with pleasure.

"Stand straight. Look at me."

My head snaps upright, eyes opened and on you. You look fierce. I can tell you're in a demanding mood. A long day of travel never makes you happy even when things go smoothly.

"If I put my hand between your legs, will I find that my filthy slut is wet for me?"

I nod. I'm sure that it's true. I always am. I'm convinced that you emit some pheromone that enters my brain when you're near and readies me for you.

You test my response, your fingers rough and sure. Then you smile at me, just for a moment, when I'm proven right. Before I can smile back, though, your eyes narrow. "It seems to me that I owe you a punishment."

"Master?" I look at you blankly.

"I was gone for a week. I told you that you were not to touch yourself while I was gone. Have you forgotten what you told me two days ago?"

I look down, face reddening. "I'm sorry, Sir. I apologize for t-touching myself while you were gone and making myself come. I just felt so...needy. I-I couldn't stop myself."

Your fingers pinch my nipples cruelly, pulling upward until I'm almost on my toes. "Who do you belong to?" you growl.

I'm quick to respond, "To you, Sir. I belong to you. Only to you."

You grip one hand firmly over my pussy. "And this? Who owns this?"

"You do, Sir. My pussy belongs to you." The words fall from my lips in an erotic sigh. I feel myself getting wetter.

"Did you ask my permission to touch it? To pleasure yourself?"

I shake my head. I have no excuse other than how much I missed you, how the thought of your mouth and fingers and cock were driving me mad that night. I hadn't even tried asking you for permission; I knew you'd be at a dinner with clients, that you would deny me.

You let me go, then order me to fetch my wrist cuffs. I keep them in the drawer next to the bed. You buckle them onto me, connecting them in front. Then you stand and take off the jacket you always wear when traveling. You unbutton your cuffs and roll them up. I can feel my breath hitch as I look at your forearms. For some odd reason, I find them incredibly sexy; maybe because I know how capably you use them to restrain me, pleasure me, punish me.

You unbuckle your belt and thread it through the loops of your pants. "Bend over the end of the bed, pet. Hands above your head. Count for me."

I know I broke the rules, but I'm still trembling slightly. I feel you move close, closer, then you caress my ass gently. Before I'm ready, there's a crack as your belt strikes me. Although I'm startled, I don't move. The sharp pain is a beat behind, hot and just as surprising as it is every time.

You wait until I remember to count, then continue. At first I'm stoic, determined not to move or cry out. After a few strikes, the tears start. By the time you reach ten, my shoulders are heaving and I'm sobbing in earnest. I'm feeling sorry, very sorry that I disobeyed you. I tell you this between ragged breaths.

You stop, caressing the now-burning flesh again. "Good girl. You did well. I can see you're sorry. But we'll have to work on your obedience...you're far too greedy and spoiled when it comes to pleasuring yourself."

"I'm sorry, Master," I whisper, my eyes closed. "It's just...so hard."

You chuckle and the sound is a bit warmer. I feel relief as you lift me from the bed, remove the cuffs, then sit back down holding me in your lap. "It would be easier if you weren't such a horny little pet." Your fingers wipe the tears from my face, then you kiss me. Your lips still feel fierce, but it's need that's coming off you now, not displeasure. Despite my sore flesh, I shift on your lap, teasing your hardening cock.

"Little imp," you mutter, breaking our kiss. Your eyes are smiling. "I brought you a present."

"Really?" I know my pleasure shows in my face and voice. I wiggle on your lap again. "Is it this?"

You laugh and I love the sound of it. Little by little you're relaxing, and I feel happy knowing that I've helped that happen. "No not that -- although if you're a good girl and beg me enough you may get it as well. No, this is a real gift."

You reach for your jacket and retrieve a small box, handing it to me. "Open it."

I do. Nestled inside on a bed of cotton is something that looks like earrings. I lift them up and discover that they're actually nipple clamps, but they're the prettiest ones I've ever seen. They look like real jewelry. I gaze at you in wonder.

"They're beautiful, Sir. And so unusual. Wherever did you find them?"

You take them from my fingers, saying offhandedly, "I saw them in the window of a shop in Chicago. They started life as earrings, but I had them modified for you. I'll enjoy seeing you wear them this way much more." As you talk, you carefully pinch and tease my nipple until it's taut, then attach the clamp. I bite my lip and breathe in as the sharp teeth grip me.

You watch me intently. Leaning against your chest as I am, I can hear you breathing faster. You attach the other one, then say in a low voice, "Perfect. They're beautiful on you."

"Thank you, Sir," I whisper, arching my back so you can see them better. The sharp bite of the clamps recedes into an achy feeling that makes its way from my nipples to my pussy. My eyes dance. "Is there some way I could show you my thanks as well?"

You idly flick each clamp, setting the dangling jewels into motion and making me gasp. "What is it that you had in mind?"

I daringly put my hand on your thigh, close to the thick shape of your cock inside your pants. Looking up through my lashes, I reply, "You know, Sir. Please let me."

Your jaw tenses and you shift under me as you say, "You'll have to do better than that, pet. Tell me how needy you are. Tell me what you want. If you beg nicely enough, you can have it."

I slide down your lap and onto my knees, my hands trailing down your thighs. "Please, Sir. I want you in my mouth. It's what I thought about all week. What I thought about when I came." I stroke my hands up and down your calves, my voice softly pleading.

You open your legs a bit further and frown. "You can do better. You don't sound needy enough. I bet you were much needier two nights ago when you masturbated without my permission."

I lift myself higher, "No....I'm just as needy. More needy. Let your little cockslut put her mouth on you, Sir. Please. Let me lick you and run my tongue over you. Kissing and teasing you so slowly that you can't hold back. Until you have to grab my head and fuck my mouth."

You hesitate, amping me up. My fingers curl on your legs. "Please, Sir," I beg, my voice shaking, eyes hot and desperate as they stare into yours.

"All right, my filthy little slut. You can have my cock. But I want you to do just what you said. Tease me, using only your mouth, until I'm ready for more."

"Thank you, Sir." I'm breathless with anticipation. You undo your fly and take out your cock with a small sound of relief, and I can see why. It's so hard that it's practically throbbing. I move close enough to kiss and tease the tip with my tongue, then run it all around the head, inching closer all the while until I can reach the base. Everything mingles inside me until I'm in my happy place. I love kneeling in front of you like this; I love using my mouth on your cock, driving you up until that hard control of your cracks, just a little. I love that smell that's uniquely yours. Basically, I love pleasing you.

I can feel your hips straining as I gently suck each ball into my mouth, swirling my tongue around. Then I work my way back to the head and run my flattened tongue over it, like a kitten licking its fur.

You breathe out with a low, explosive sound, and your hands grasp my head firmly. I know to open my mouth wide, my tongue flattened and ready for you. You push inside me, your size pulling my lips wide. Stopping just short of my throat, you hold there, your thumbs gently stroking the tips of my ears, and you say, "That felt good, pet. Now I'm going to pull out, nice and slow, and when I do, I want you to tell me whose mouth this is that I'm about to fuck."

I feel your cock slide out despite the suction I've created. I take a quick breath and say, "It belongs to you, Sir. Please...fuck it. You know I love this. I love when you use me like your toy...."

You thrust into my mouth again, cutting me off. After that, you set a relentless rhythm. Your hands hold me, letting me know that there's nothing I need to do except let you possess my mouth. Your mouth.

Your voice is hoarse and urgent above me. "You may touch yourself, but you're not allowed to come this time. You need to make up for the one you stole." I obey, but only touch lightly; I'm already too aroused and don't want to risk your displeasure again. After a minute I stop. I want my full attention to be on pleasing you.

A quiver passes through me, and my hands tighten on your knees just as your cock swells in my mouth. At last, you push into me, to the very limits of what I can take. As I hold my breath, I feel you start to come. There's a primal pleasure in it, a fierce enjoyment in bringing you to your release.

Slowly you still. Instead of releasing my head, you hold me there. And I hold you in my mouth. We stay that way for a few moments, connected in a way that makes everything feel right in my world. And hopefully yours. Then you gently push me back onto my heels and stand.

"It's late, little one, and I'm tired. Stand up and let me remove your new jewelry, then let's go to bed. You can start thinking now about how you're going to beg me in the morning for your own orgasm. Right now I'm leaning towards being merciful, but who knows how I'll feel tomorrow...."