Leather Belt

“Too bad. Now I will have to punish you.”

I struggled to please him. My moan of protest meant nothing to him. After all, the idea was to set me up to be punished by orchestrating a task that was difficult, if not impossible to do in my current situation.

My arms were tied behind my back. My ankles had been successfully lashed back to my thighs. I was open, kneeling low to the floor with a blindfold covering my eyes, and all I knew was I was unable to somehow keep my Masters cock in my mouth, or keep my balance as I struggled to stay on my knees, my legs spread.

I felt his hand hold my head in place as he pushed his hard dick into my mouth. The sudden movement of his hips pushed me off balance again, but he grabbed my shoulder, stopping my fall.

“Poor little slave.”

He eased his hardness in and out a few more times before pulling out entirely. He removed the blindfold and took my chin in his hand, lifting my eyes to his face.

“Let’s see how you are at taking punishment, since you seem unable to accommodate my cock adequately with your mouth.”

He loosened the bonds around my thighs and ankles and lifted me to my feet, leading me to the bar in the doorway. Standing behind me he loosened the ropes on my arms, and the leather wrist cuffs were slipped smoothly over my hands. I hear the jingle of the metal rings as he fastens my wrists securely. Pulling my arms over my head he smiles at my position.

Leaning down, he breathes close to my ear, each word emphasized by the exhale tickling ever so slightly; sending shivers down my spine.

“Now this is how a slave should be. Ready and open to serve her Master.”

His eyes dart up and down my body as he pulls his thick leather belt from the loops in his pants and I feel my heart racing as I watch him wrap the leather around his fisted hand.

Reaching over, my left breast is lifted in his palm. He plumps it with his fingers, feeling its weight. I watch him release about 3 inches of the belt from the rolled leather wad around his hand. He begins a soft stroke across my breast, focusing on the nipple area and I groan as the slaps increase in intensity.

My white skin immediately turns red and I feel myself break out in a sweat as I struggle with sense overload, the edge of the belt catching my nipple again and again as it contracts in reaction.

Quickly dropping my left breast he gathers the right breast in the same way, only leans down to suck and wet the nipple before concentrating on a focused whipping of it.

I moan, my bare feet dancing up and down as I try to endure the sensations. He comes close to me and with his foot kicks my legs apart.

“Stay like that slave.”

He pauses for effect, his eyes scanning my body up and down.

“Keep your legs open and don’t move.”

There is no lee way for me now to do anything but stand and endure this delicious torture that I never believed I would find erotic.

My Master stands back and loosens the belt around his fist a bit more. He makes the length longer and swings it back and forth then begins to softly stroke my inner thighs with the belt. Left. Right. Left. Right. The leather strap meets my skin with more intensity each time marking me. He begins to find a rhythm, the sound of the leather slapping my skin punctuated by my involuntary cries, gasps and moans.

Instinctively I twist my ankles, my knees drawing my legs closer together and he moves in front of me. I am offered the belt to my lips, while his free hand seeks my slit, slipping in easily to the hot wetness.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t excited little slave. Your cunt is wet and juicy and I see your hips begging me to finger you some more even though you are supposed to be taking punishment right now.”

His finger slides up my clit, the pad of it caressing the folds of skin back, exposing me. His foot kicks my legs apart again and he glares down at me, his fingers withdrawing. He rubs my wetness across my lips, pushing his fingers into my mouth.

I moan, always hungry for his touch

“Consistently ready to suck, aren’t you my whore?”

I glance up with a momentary glower and he backs off, lightly slapping my cheek with the belt, then quickly leaning in and kissing the hot heat on my cheek.

My eyes close as my mind tries to understand my excited reaction, so many feelings flowing through me at once.

How is it that everywhere he touches me I feel burned, stung, branded; yet his lips, his mouth are cool like a soothing balm?

“Now count for me.”

And I count the strokes of belt upon my skin, the quick flick of his wrist causing the belt to hit high on my inner thighs, the soft tender skin unused to such assaults, the red marks feeling hot and itchy.

I enumerate the strokes, my exhaled words whispered or shouted. He watches my winces, letting the sensation settle deep into the tissue of my tender skin.

Watching my eyes, he notes the glance to his hand wrapped in the belt leather. His index finger caresses the leather then he softly traces the outline of my face with the edge of the belt. He uses the leather to caress my face, the same leather that slapped my ass and thighs causing stinging pain, now feels smooth and silky to my cheek.

I want to put my cheek against his knuckles and nuzzle him, my mouth and lips craving to worship the fingers he touches me with. Fingers that probe and take, tease and fill me, open me, invade and own me. I want to ride them deep inside, my Master claiming me with his hand, his fingers sliding deeply inside my craving cunt.