I woke slowly with a sense of displacement and no shortage of confusion. I sat up slowly, the room was dark except for a sliver of light from the slightly ajar bedroom door. I rubbed my eyes, thinking hard. Had I dreamt it? It felt real. But why had I fallen off to sleep if it had been real? Somebody had removed my left over clothing, my stockings, garter belt and shoes.
I stood and moved to the light switch. The overhead glared to life, and I blinked a few times to readjust my eyes. No, my clothing was there, on the floor where I’d left it. Why had I basically passed out then? Was she real? Had I drunk at the club? But I couldn’t have. It was a hard rule. We never played with even a little liquor in either of our systems.
I frowned then the frown deepened as I heard their voices, laughter streaming softly in from the living room down the hall. If it was real then why wasn’t he here with me? He always stayed beside me if any extreme reaction occurred and even if it didn’t. I was suddenly angry. No, not angry. I felt like a child who had been denied her way, what she was accustomed to.
I padded down the hallway, following the voices, and stepped into the living room, my hands on my hips. I heard my voice as I stared at them both, a hint of whine crept in. “What are you two talking about?” What I really meant, and I think it was apparent, was, “Why aren’t you here, with me, Master?” I was pouting, actually pouting.
They were sitting at the dining table, sharing a bite to eat. I felt jealousy. She seemed to be sitting so close to him, to attentive, leaning to far in to hear his words. I felt angry tears pierce my eyes, and I must have looked the part of the spoiled, petulant brat because not even seconds passed before he’d crossed the floor and slid a finger under the choker I wore, the ONLY thing I wore. He pulled me close, my lips inches from his, and he spoke roughly, breath hot on my face. “I suggest that you modify your behaviour and your tone.”
I wriggled in his hold, tugging my head back and freeing myself. I opened my mouth to argue with him, to protest and ask what he was doing with this woman we’d only just met. Complete hypocrisy of course. But I never got the words out. His hands on my shoulders forced me to my knees roughly. My knees thudded to the floor painfully, and I bit back a small whimper. He cupped my chin tightly and forced me to raise my face, and I stared at him, tears in my eyes. They weren’t from pain but from growing anger. He glared at me in return and reached to tug loose my choker, his collar. He tossed it on the table in front of the woman and stalked off. I shook there, out of anger, avoiding looking at her.
Master returned moments later, a strip of heavier leather in his hands. He buckled it around my throat and gripped one of the metal loops, tugging my head forward toward his groin. “Do you remember better now how to behave?”
I blinked back tears, feeling like a fool, and whispered softly, “Yes, Master. But you…” I didn’t even have the chance to finish my sentence before he dragged me to my feet and propelled me to the couch. I found myself bent at the waist over an armrest, gripping the cushions for balance. “No, don’t.. I just.” My words were cut off as I sucked in a breath, the pain of the first slap shook me a little. He rarely spanked me that hard. It was reserved for moments when I really crossed the line.
He spanked me several more times before letting me rest there, my face buried in a throw pillow. The heat had spread across my ass. It must have been as red as the haze that crossed my vision. I shivered slightly, overwhelmed and still feeling some degree of protest. I bit back any words I might have said and resented him a little.
I felt humiliated. The woman sitting at the table has seen all of that. I didn’t know I was about to feel even worse. He grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to straighten and spun me around, sitting me on the armrest. He examined my face and nodded silently. I opened my mouth to speak before snapping it shut with a glance from him.
He half led, half dragged me to the table, lifting me to sit on it’s top, their dinner shoved aside. The woman watched silently from her side of the table, and he leaned to speak. “Kneel for me, now.” I did as I was told, scrambling to keep balance and kneel atop the table. I found myself a little above his eye level. I situated myself, kneeling back on my heels with my thighs together. His hands forced them apart. I flushed brightly. I knew that I was wet, even in all this humiliation I was sopping. He saw it too and touched my knees gently with his hands. I felt my pussy clench at his closeness. So many confusing emotions. Anger. Want. Need. Lust. Outright and simple, needful lust.
