Insolence 1

He kneeled beside my computer chair, dressed only in a wrap around black satin skirt purchased for the occasion. I knew that he would be naked underneath as we had arranged. He was required to kneel beside me dressed only in the skirt, with his hands clasped behind his neck, waiting for me to acknowledge him. These moods were becoming more frequent. He had showered earlier and let his long purple tinged hair dry long before I touched him.

“You insolent creature,” I snarled at him, lifting his chin with a finger. He was never to look at me unless I allowed it. “You know I have not bathed today. I like to be clean as well. For that you can wait while I shower. I’d better return to find you here.”

He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to. He only spoke when given permission. I showered quickly, humming lightly to myself, pondering what I would do to him today. I decided that he needed to learn patience. I exited to the bedroom and donned a long flowing skirt and a tight blouse. When I reentered he was still in place. “I think you need to learn patience. You mock me every time you kneel waiting for me. You preen. I demand grace not impertinence. Follow me.”

I walked sharply into the bedroom and he followed as commanded, crawling on all fours behind me. I could feel the electric tension in him though I ignored his presence. I selected a pair of pretty nipple clamps from the large box in the closet. They were the variety shaped as tweezers, more pretty than painful. I attached them to each nipple as he continued to keep his eyes down cast. I placed the chain connecting the tweezers between his lips.

“Pose three,” I said curtly. He rose slowly to his feet, holding his arms straight behind his back grabbing his wrists. He tilted his head back looking toward the ceiling. I could see his erection growing under the loose satin. I almost smiled but held back, keeping a stern demeanor. I looked over his taut body, his slender feline qualities and naturally tanned skin. I adored these features. He was stunning in this pose. The only word I could think of to describe him was beautiful.

I grabbed a metal nail file and started to file down my nails in an act of boredom. He tensed wondering what would happen next. I yawned and leaned down to turn on some music. Something classical had been left in the cd player. It matched my mood, being dramatic and dark. Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ filled the room. I returned to my filing. After a few moments I crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of him, file still in hand. I ran it across his bare stomach, watching him react to the slightest touch.

“Now, what to do with you, you insolent brat. You have been patient for a few minutes. We can work on that more later.”

I removed the tweezers carefully after taking the chain from his mouth. He had remained silent to this moment. The clamps had caused his tiny buds to become tender, and he elicited a whimper. This caused me to smirk. I flicked his left nipple, watching him jump at the tiny pain. He was capable of withstanding much greater amounts of pain, even though his appearance suggested that he would break easily.

“Pose one,” I snapped. He hurried back to his original stance. “I grow weary of your attitude. You will either submit to me totally or not at all. I won’t abide this any longer.” I sat on the bed with my feet on the floor. “Come here.”

He dropped to his hands and knees and sat in front of me. I grabbed a handful of his silken hair and led him over my lap. “Pull up your skirt,” I said evenly. He shivered slightly but maintained his composure, pulling the black satin up, exposing his small ass. He clutched his hands behind the small of his back automatically. “I will break you,” I threatened.

I loved to spank him with my bare hand, to feel the heat rising from his reddened flesh. However, I also liked to draw out his anticipation. He knew by now what to expect. He lost some of his grace at this point. I raked my newly filed nails across him, tracing circles in his yielding skin. He moaned slightly, chill bumps rising under my touch. I raised my hand and delivered the first blow. A bright red handprint rose immediately.

This did not discourage me in the least. Unlike others I have seen I never rub or sooth the punished skin. I rained down blow after blow, causing him to struggle in spite of his resolve. Determination flowed through my veins. Not to long after I had begun he lost his resolve and covered his ass with one hand. “You dare,” I hissed.

I smacked him a few more times and shoved him off my lap. “Lean over the bed,” I demanded, too angered to remember what number pose was designated for this position. I stormed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a plastic spatula. The spatula is great for causing the skin to become raw and red. The damage it did was superficial, generally gone the next day. The water was for causing extra sting. I placed the items on the bedside table and grabbed a large dildo from the closet.

“Spread you ass for me. NOW!” I demanded. He parted his maroon cheeks with his hands. I rubbed a small amount of lube on his puckered anus, and put a few drops on the tip of the dildo. I thrust the entire length of the rubber toy into his tight hole. He whimpered and moaned in response. “I suggest you don’t let it slip out, lest you anger me further. Answer me respectfully.”

“Yes Miss,” he whispered.

I picked up the spatula and smacked him once, lifting his punished flesh with the hit. “Louder,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Yes Miss,” he nearly screamed.

I dipped the tool into the water, dripping a few drops on the carpet. I hit him several more times, extracting cries of pain from him. I worked on his thighs, inner and outer in the process, angered and unyielding in my resolve to break him. It took no time for him to beg me to stop. Eventually I did, noting that his organ had remained rigid the entire time. He sobbed into the comforter, relief washing over him.

I left him there, fetching a pair of neon purple thongs from my collection. I knelt beside him and twisted the cruel dildo, shoving it in and out a few times. He bucked his hips to meet my thrusts, unable to control his urge. “Not yet pet. Back to patience. Put these on. You may stand up to do so.”

He stood and slipped the thongs on. I pointed to the corner, meaning he was to stand there, skirt lifted, for fifteen or so minutes. I returned to the living room and my computer chair to have a cigarette and cool off a bit. I was more than ready for the enflamed sex that would follow, but I was going to prove my point first. I was in control. I would own him.