2 p.m.
My Master has just called; he will be here in one hour and I am to be ready.
Stockings, high heels, bra, knickers, short skirt and t-shirt, hair and makeup done, and of course my collar.
I know what he wants; I know how he wants me to look.
My heart started pounding the minute I saw his name on my phone, a very short call, just instructions really; I was excited, frightened and yes I have to admit wet. He knew me so well, it's like he could get inside me and read my innermost thoughts. With him I couldn't pretend, I was open and exposed, he opened me up and made me see myself for what I am.
One hour later I was ready, kneeling on the floor, I heard his key in the door and I felt like I would burst; he came into the bedroom and looked at me. I lowered my eyes as I'd been taught to do.
"Stand up," he said in that very familiar voice.
I stood head lowered hands on top of my head.
"Open your legs."
He walked towards me, put his hand inside my knickers and felt to see if I was wet. He pushed his fingers deep inside my pussy: I was very wet. He withdrew his fingers, now covered with my juice, and put them to my mouth.
"Lick," he commanded.
Which I did without hesitation until his fingers were clear of my juice.
"Wait there."
He left the room; I just stood there knowing better than to move. I heard his phone ring and his voice, he returned a few minutes later and said:
"I have to go out; sorry, this will have to wait." He kissed me on the forehead and left.
I didn't know what to do; I just stood there for a few moments, my hands still on top of my head. I was so horny, excited, my pussy was throbbing, I looked at the bed, I needed to get some relief, if I was quick he would never know, I just couldn't stop myself.
I laid down on the bed, still dressed as I'd been told to, I slid my hand inside my knickers and started to rub my clit, it was already really sensitive I knew it wouldn't take long, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander.
I didn't hear his key; I was so close to orgasm. I didn't hear him push the bedroom door open, I had no idea how long he had stood watching me; the first I knew was when I heard him say:
"You dirty little slut, you know better than that."
I stopped, my heart pounding, my mouth had gone dry and I just looked at him.
I tried to explain, to apologise, but he just looked at me.
"Get off the bed," he ordered.
He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to what he called the correction bench. This was somewhere I had been before, normally for minor things; it's where he corrected my behaviour when I got things wrong. But this time I knew it was different, this time I had really displeased him, he was angry and I was scared.
The correction bench was a just a 2 by 4 foot leather padded top on two A-frames; it had wrist and ankle cuffs attached.
"Take off your knickers and bend over," was all he said, I did as I was told, handed him my wet knickers, my heart was still pounding as I bent over the bench and spread my legs so my feet touched the feet of the bench. He knelt and fastened the ankle straps, then moved to the front and fastened my wrists. I tried to apologise, "I'm so sorry, I promise it will never happen again," I pleaded. He pushed my wet knickers into my mouth so I couldn't speak.
He said nothing, just carried on with what he was doing. Once I was securely tied down I heard him go to the cupboard; I knew I was in for a thrashing like I'd never had before: I'd never disobeyed him like this before. From day one my Master had told me I was not allowed to touch myself without his permission. All I could do now was wait.
I felt the cane rub against my bare arse.
"You will get 30 strokes, you will count each one, if you lose count I will start again," he said, his voice was now controlled.
He stood there for a while rubbing the cane over my bare flesh, he moved to my head and removed the knickers from my mouth.
"Please no," is all I could say, the most I'd ever had was ten and I knew what he meant by count each one; he meant each stroke of the cane and only the cane, I knew he would use other things to punish me with but they wouldn't count. How was I going to keep track of 30.
The first one came down so hard my back arched, I could feel the welt across my arse.
"One."
The second came almost immediately.
"Two."
Then the third, fourth and fifth in quick secession, it was difficult to breathe the pain was so intense.
"Three, four, five," I managed to say through my gasps for air.
Then the cane rubbing over the welts.
"Please, please, I'm so sorry; please, I'll do anything," but he didn't say a word.
He walked back to where my head was hanging over the bench and lifted me by my hair.
"I always knew you were a cumslut, a dirty cum whore," and he let my head fall.
The next thing I felt was the cold of the lubricant being rubbed over my arsehole. I'd had a butt plug inside me, we had just worked up to the medium size, my Master had told me my hole needed training and stretching to be able to take the large butt plug. I felt the tip of the plug against my ring, my arsehole instantly tightened to try and stop it.
"Relax; this will hurt less if you relax, you are going to take it, whether you resist or not this is going inside you, so just relax and take it and it will hurt less." His voice was now soft and quiet; I felt a shiver run down my back.
I tried to relax but he pushed hard and I realised this was not the small or medium plug: he was going to make me take the large one. I tried to tighten but he just pushed, slowly working in and out, with each push it was getting deeper and my hole was growing wider, I felt like I was being ripped, I started to sob.
"Please no, not that not yet, please I can't take it." I knew my words would be in vain but still I begged.
"You will take whatever I choose to push inside you, that's what sluts are for: to take."
With one last hard push it was in me, stretching me, it hurt. I was sure he had ripped me.
Before I had time to try and get my mind thinking straight I could feel cold of leather on my hot caned arse. My mind was racing. I'd had five, yes I'm sure it was five strokes of the cane, these next ones wouldn't count. Slap, the paddle came down hard on my arse, I mustn't count, then four more with the paddle at the tops of my legs.
I could feel my bare backside glowing, then the familiar feel of the cane. He was pushing the tip against the plug in my arse, it moved down and over my clit.
"Maybe I should give you a few strokes here," he said, "just to show you what happens to sluts who play with themselves."
Then six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, all in quick succession. I remembered to count, but tears were running down my face, I was struggling to get free, then the cane was at the tops of my legs.
"Please no, not there, please Master, I am so sorry, no more please, I promise I'll never touch myself again." By now I was sobbing uncontrollably.
"You keep telling me that you can't take it but, here you are taking it, and you will keep taking it until I decide to stop. Is that clear?"
"Yes Master"
"So whose slut are you?"
"Yours Master."
"And who are you here to please?"
"You Master"
Then the cane again. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. All at the tops of my legs; I collapsed, the pain was so intense, and I was just sobbing.
By now my arse and legs were on fire I could feel the cold of the lubricant, this time in my pussy, then my Master's fingers were inside me, working in and out. I tried not to react but my body took over and I began to move against his fingers, my clit was hard and throbbing and I was close, I could feel his breath on my ear.
