Make Me 5

Zoë lay on her side of the double bed, next to George. He had his one arm wrapped underneath her, with her head nestled on his chest. She was only wearing a top and some panties and he was in his underwear. The television was on, they had taken out a movie and this was now somewhere in the middle. Zoë had lost track of it ages ago. She was staring at the screen unseeingly, thinking about George and her. Occasionally, George would absent-mindedly fondle her breasts. She wished he would stop, he was making her horny, and by the look of it he was in a tired lazy mood, he would not follow through on it. She sighed, thinking of her beautiful collar. He did not put it on her for a while. She wondered whether he was growing tired of being her Sir, and quickly pushed the thought out of her mind.

He looked at her quizzically when he heard her sigh. She smiled at him and pretended to continue watching the movie. He squeezed her nipples one after the other, making her rate of breathing increase. She silently cursed him, he knew how this turned her on. When she did not show any other sign of reaction he twisted them harder. Zoë gave an altogether different sigh as she slightly arched her back to let her chest meet his hands with more pressure. Pleased at her movement he again moved his attention back to the TV screen, but didn't stop to pinch and pull at her nipples, sometimes pinching at the flesh all over her breasts and stomach.

Zoë closed her eyes and let the little sensations excite her. Her pussy had been wet ten minutes into the film, and now it was getting wetter. Her breathing became louder as he idly toyed with her. Without noticing it, Zoë started to rhythmically move her hips, rubbing against George's leg. He looked at her again, smiling this time.

"Are you horny again?" he asked, amused. She didn't answer. He chuckled but continued to watch the film, leaving Zoë feeling very unimportant and very unsatisfied.

After another couple of minutes of this slow torture Zoë let her fingers creep to her pussy, glancing at George. He felt her looking at him rather than seeing her hand movement, and he chuckled again. He rolled half over her, so he could put his leg between Zoë's, pushing his hard against her pussy. She groaned, enjoying the pressure there. She started a slow hump against his leg, rubbing herself against him, and getting hornier by the second. He was still pinching her nipples and watching the film. Zoë could not help feeling disappointed. She knew she could come like this if she worked hard for it, but she could do that with a pillow at home. She tried pushing the thought away and tried reaching release. She couldn't get her mind in it, and just felt more frustrated after a while.

George sensed this and for the first time the evening gave her his full attention.

"Come on, you whore," he whispered in her ear. The words that usually spurred her on just scalded her this time. He did make her act like a whore. That is what they both liked. The dirty words were almost too real for her tonight. They angered her. They belonged to one world and lately he had them playing in another. He could not mix it any way he liked. He knew she needed more.

"Work your cunt, slut. Come! That is what it was made for!" he continued in a harsh whisper. Once more she tried getting away from the negative thoughts in her mind and put some extra energy into riding his leg.

"You were made to fuck, so fuck," he said. Zoë's eyes flew open, and could feel the anger bubbling to the surface. She stopped abruptly, and while breathing heavily said, "Make me, you fucking bastard!" She tried pushing him off her chest, swinging her legs out from under him. A smile flickered on George's lips again. He rolled on top of her, crushing her with his weight. Zoë dropped her arms next to her, she knew they were useless, and tried to push him off her with her legs, which were much stronger.

They started a vigorous wrestling match. A couple of times Zoë almost succeeded in dislodging George, but he always stayed on top of her. After a while she tried a new tactic. She tried crawling out underneath him by sliding off the edge of the bed. She succeeded in slumping to the floor in such a position that her legs were splayed obscenely in the air, the edge the bed just below her buttocks. She had to hold her weight with her arms, and George was sitting on one of her legs.

"Excellent position," he remarked. He pushed down her top over her tits and twisted both her nipples harder than he had all evening, and started rubbing her clit through the lacy material of her panties. For a second Zoë forgot herself and enjoyed the situation, but then she twisted like a snake and fell to the floor. She was on her hands and knees, and tried to get up as quick as she could, but George was faster. He had wrapped his hands in her hair and savagely pulled her back down to the floor, into a kneeling position. She cried out and her hands shot up, trying to untangle his painful grip on her to no avail. While she struggled, he removed his underpants with one hand so quickly that she barely had time to realize.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled her to him. His cock fully erect and he started stroking himself rapidly as he pulled her face towards him. She knew what he wanted, but refused and tried pulling away. He grunted and forced her mouth around his cock, gripping her head and fucked her fiercely. In that instance all Zoë's resistance crumbled and she started sucking him, trying to keep up with his pace. He moaned appreciatively and soon shot burst after burst of his pearly white semen into her mouth. She swallowed it and let her head fall into his lap. They were both sweaty and had racing breaths.

They sat like this in silence, him stroking her head softly for what seemed like a lifetime for Zoë. She could not explain why she now felt so fulfilled, kneeling at his feet, the taste of him in her mouth. She did not know why the little token of him stroking her hair was so special and so right at the moment. She was still very horny, but it no longer mattered to her that she had not come yet.

George stirred, and when she made to move he stopped her with a hand. He left her kneeling as he moved towards the cupboard. He took out a towel.

"I am going to take a quick shower," he stated. "When I get back I want you completely naked, and I want you to present your collar to me." He left the room.

Zoë complied quickly, leaving her with a lot of time think over what just happened. She flushed when she remembered what she had called him and the anger that she felt, but could also not help thinking about how much the wrestle had turned both of them on. How would she explain it to George if he should ask her? Did he even notice that she had been angry, or did he just see it as a game, a little play?

Lost in her reverie she almost did not hear him come back in, but as the door clicked shut, she corrected her posture. George found her kneeling where he had left her, facing the bed, back straight, head lowered. Her hands rested palm up on each of her thighs. In front of her, on the bed, lay her collar.

He fiddled about for a while and then approached her. He briefly caressed her cheek.

"Stand up," he said softly. When she was standing her lightly turned her and pressed in the small of her back, indicating that he wanted her to walk. He continued this light pressure until she was against the wall.

"In position," he demanded. She spread her legs slightly, raised her arms and rested her lower arms against the wall, palms flat. He leaned into her; she could feel his breath in her neck. He reached around her and cupped her breasts.

"Whose tits are these?" he asked softly in her ear. She shivered a bit, cringing away from his mouth.

"Yours, Sir," she answered. He noticed her movement, but left it for the time being. His hand slipped to her pussy, and this he also cupped.

"Whose cunt is this?"

"Yours, Sir." He slid a finger into her. He brought his slick digit to her nose and then to her mouth, chuckling. She sucked his finger clean, blushing. He stepped back and run his hand over the curve of her backside.

"Whose ass is this?"

"Yours, Sir." For a second she could feel no contact, then a sharp slap to her ass. She gasped. He continued to caress her buttocks for a while, and then he spread them apart and pressed a finger against her tight hole.

"Whose asshole is this?" She tensed, not answering. He pressed harder against it.

"Yours, Sir!" she said quickly. He continued the pressure against it for a little bit longer and then let his hands continue roaming. Again he leaned into her. He kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder. She tensed her shoulders and dropped her head, trying to subtly push him away from her neck. George loved how she was so sensitive in the area around her neck and ears. He grabbed her hair and forced her head upright. He licked all the way up from the bottom of her neck to her ear, then inside her ear. She squirmed, trying not to pull away.

"Whose neck is this," he demanded. She did not answer, focusing on staying in position as he continued to lick inside her ear. She had goose bumps all over her lower body. He bit down on her neck. He pulled her hair tighter until she cried out.

"Whose is it, slut?"

"Yours... It's yours, Sir," she gasped out. He did not relent. He nibbled on her ear.

"Whose ears are these?" She groaned, rolling her head until he forced it upright again. He bit her ear harder.

"Yours Sir," she moaned.

"Fetch the collar," he growled, and threw her to the floor.

She crawled back to the bed, picked it up and hobbled awkwardly back to him. He laughed at how comic she looked, using only one arm crawling. He had once punished her for putting something in her mouth. He did not want her slobber all over his things.

She kneeled in front of him and presented the collar to him in both her hands. He took it from her, waiting for her to lift her hair out of the way. After he fastened it around her neck tightly he lifted her chin.

"Who am I?" he asked. She considered this. Somehow he had never really asked this from her. She could not and did not want to say Master. Not yet.

"Sir," she said tentatively, and then added, "my Sir." He seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Who are you?" She thought about this too, and saw where he was going. He did notice her anger then. She blushed.

"I am your whore, Sir."

"Fetch the crop."

She crawled to the cupboard and repeated the funny hobble back to him.

"Get your ass on the bed, now." She held out the crop to him. He did not take it from her, he just raised a brow. Somewhat confused, she crawled back to the bed. Only when she was in the right position with her face in the pillows and her backside raised did he take it from her.

"I do not appreciate being called a bastard," he remarked. "Also, what is mine I will have whenever and however I want. I don't like my orders being challenged." It was a mere statement. It was like he was talking to himself. He chuckled. "And I missed half my movie, tsk!" Zoë felt that she was not required to comment. She simply waited for the first strike to fall with closed eyed. She craved the kiss of the crop as much as she respected and almost feared it.

"Count for me, girl," he said, followed by the first swing. Zoë listened to the swish, the thwack and grunted from the burst of pain.

"One, Sir," she said as soon as she could.

"That's not how I taught you to count. Let's restart." Zoë searched her mind for the right wording, not preparing at all for the next strike. When it landed she was so surprised that she cried out.

"One. I'm a dirty little whore, Sir."

"Good girl!"

The next two strikes were harder, but she only grunted at each again. The third strike fell on her upper thigh and she stiffened her whole body to accommodate the sting.

"Four. I'm a dirty little whore, Sir." The last two were even harder. The scream died in her throat, coming out as a slight exclamation.

"Six. I'm a dirty little whore, Sir."

"Now, come for me, my little whore." He kissed her forehead and continued watching the film.

"Yes, you are," he agreed, tossing the crop aside. He slipped into bed with her, and she repositioned herself, lying as she had done earlier with her head on his chest. He rewinded the movie to where she had last paid some sort of attention. He reached into the bedside table's drawer and took out a vibe, giving it to her.