You were a good slave all day, obeying me, serving my guests and myself at a dinner party I had for friends. You served us all excellently, wearing nothing at all and staying hard the whole time, impressing my friends with not only your attentiveness to my wishes but with your wonderful physical attributes too. The women couldn't help but stare at you as you stood by my chair during the meal. I could see you beaming with pride when I allowed them to touch you and compliment you on your humble attitude and your good manners.
But somewhere along the way, your attitude changed. I believe it was when you brought me some clean towels in my bedroom and you found me naked in bed with a buxom young woman and I was playfully spanking her bare, soft bottom. Was that a little pout of jealousy that I saw on your handsome face, my slave? That is not becoming to you, nor is it your place as my servant to feel anything about who I take to my bed, do you understand? But the damage has been done and I am angry. And you will be punished.
I allow the girl to stay and watch, provided that she keeps quiet and does not interfere. She fades into the shadows, silent as a mouse. She is someone else's slave, also obeying my orders.
We are in my bedroom - a large and lofty chamber with its own fireplace, where a small fire you made for me earlier crackles and warms the room. The paneling is dark and heavy curtains block the windows, putting us in our own little universe. The walls are thick and very nearly soundproof. That means if you scream no one will hear you. Across from the fireplace is my bed - a huge antique thing with four large corner posts and a sheer canopy. Many nights I have spent training you there. Training you not to act like you did tonight with that hateful, possessive jealousy!
There are two hooks in the ceiling between my bed and the fireplace and two corresponding hooks in the floor. Reaching for the hard leather riding crop I keep beside my bed, I approach you. With your eyes cast down - only much too late now - you apologize to me and ask for my forgiveness. On your own initiative, you drop to your knees and put your lips against my small bare feet in attrition. But I'm not ready to forgive you yet. I want to hear you beg me.
"Stand up!" I shout, smacking your tight butt cheeks with the crop. The loud slap echoes in the corners of the room as you leap to your feet. Already there is a red streak across your ass and the sting of it makes you hiss through clenched teeth.
Using the crop against your skin, I direct you to stand beneath the hooks and quickly - through much experience - I use thick leather cuffs and straps to tie you there securely, spread-eagle, naked and unable to move.
"Do not hang your head like that," I tell you, lifting your chin with the end of the crop. "You weren't regretful a few moments ago when you angered me. You hold your chin up and look straight ahead. I want to see your eyes as I punish you and I will judge when you are truly sorry."
"Yes, Mistress," you reply, shame evident in your voice.
"Do not speak," I tell you. "Do not cry out unless you cannot bear anymore, is that understood?"
"Yes, Mistress," you answer again but when you feel the sting of the crop across your ass again, you realize that a nod was all I wanted. And now you are silent.
For a few moments I am quiet. Without looking directly at me, you see me slowly circling you, moving naked and graceful as a cat toying with a mouse before devouring it.
"Jealousy is something I could never keep you from feeling," I explain in a soft voice and now you feel the crop tracing a line between your nipples. "It is flattering to me to know that you feel that way." The tip traces down your tight belly to your pubic hair and continues down one leg.
Now my voice rises suddenly in anger and I shout, "But I don't ever want to look at your face and see that kind of bitter smirk!" You feel a stinging, biting blow across the front of your upper thighs. It makes you want to cry out but you remember my instructions. I see your hands clench and unclench though. I continue to use the crop on you, whipping you on your legs - the fronts and backs of your thighs - and then I move around to your ass. You can feel welts beginning to rise on your skin and it is becoming one continual burn of pain. Just when you think you can't stand another blow, you feel a soft, warm hand curl around the shaft of your cock and squeeze it lovingly. As you feel me begin to stroke it slowly, your mind moves from the pain to the pleasure
"Jealousy is an emotion that insecure bitches have," I state quietly, my breath hot against your shoulder. "Does that make you a bitch?" I don't expect an answer. "But then I guess you are, aren't you, my pet? You are my bitch. You are my jealous little whore who will do anything to please me." I pick up the rhythm of stroking your cock. You feel my breasts against your side as I stand in a position where I can touch you front and back.
As you are getting very hard from my attention, you feel the riding crop again, but not spanking you as before. This time it is the other end, a hard leather, phallic-shaped handle. You can feel it ease its way between your tight ass cheeks. At first you tense up and of course I notice. I let go your cock and reach up to roughly take one of your hard little nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Painfully, I pinch it hard and command you to relax your muscles. "This is my property back here," I tell you, pushing the crop again. "You have absolutely no say in what I do with it, so stop trying to resist me."
You notice the crop move away for a moment and can feel me spread my legs and moan slightly, and as I do, my hand slides down your chest back to your cock, my fingernails leaving bright red scratches as they travel. When you feel the handle of the crop again, you can tell that it is very wet now with a warm, slippery lubricant and you smell the scent of your Mistress when she is excited.
"You can answer me now, my little slut. You are my bitch, aren't you?" I ask sweetly, stroking your cock again, putting more pressure on the crop. It is resting against your asshole now, as if I am deciding whether to penetrate you or not.
"Oh, yes I am, Mistress," you answer me, your tone full of emotion and lust.
"And I can do whatever I want to you?"
