Mastery

It was a cold day but her heat would warm him. This he knew very well. As he stepped inside the aromas that assailed his nostrils were a combination of heat and wet need. He smiled.

He crossed the room with the confidence of one that knows he is in control. She was curled up on the floor before the fire, a book in her hand. She took a moment to mark her place then looked up, her green eyes wide with the knowledge she was owned.

"Welcome home, Master," she purred like a kitten, crawling to his feet, her back taut and straight. She wore next to nothing as he preferred, just a loose t-shirt, black and no panties. Her tongue moved over his shoes, greeting him. He reached down to pet her as one would a dog.

"Hello my pet, have you had a good day?" he asked her, his fingers casually combing her short locks.

"Oh yes, Master, yours has had an excellent day," she smiled up at him, her teeth so white, small and even behind her crimson lips.

"Good. Come," he ordered her, moving across the room and beyond, to the small room he had set up as their play room. Once inside, he took off his shirt to give himself more freedom of movement and he ordered her to strip. She lay upon the floor naked in a protective ball, her back scarred from the many times he had beaten her in this same room. She loved the pain he inflicted upon her. It was her aphrodisiac.

"I need to hurt you, my dear," he whispered as he pulled her onto the table. There were cuffs built into it to secure her upon it. Her wrists were secured first, arms stretched high over her head. The bottom half of her body hung over the edge of the table, her breasts were pressed flat against the surface. He secured her ankles and stretched widely apart her legs, her hairless sex exposed.

He got a paddle from the wall. It was long and thin but oh so deadly. With her legs spread and her sex exposed, he moved to stand behind her. His fingers touched her sex, feeling its arousal upon his fingertips. He smiled as he brought up the paddle and brought it down hard upon that exposed sensitive flesh.

She screamed. She could not help herself. Her body jerked in the restraints as she fought them. She could feel the soft burn of the slap, her skin welling up as blood flowed to the area. The fire inside burning out of control made tears fill her eyes. She barely had time to inhale, taking in a deep breath, filling her lungs with life giving oxygen before the paddle fell again.

Another scream split the air, her poor sex crying with the pain of it. The paddle was hard but thin and so the sharp pain of it was keen and wicked. As it kissed her skin, she could feel every nerve in her body singing, screaming as the impulses raced through her frame. It was almost too much but still it was her drug and she wanted it. She needed it.

The paddle fell again then another one, quick. He paused only a few seconds between the blows. But now he paused longer. Minutes seemed to pass, her breathing became less ragged as she tensed and not knowing when the blow would fall but knowing it would. Then he hit her again. Another scream split the air, like ice cutting between them. She was on fire, her sex burned as if hot coals had been placed upon it but still she would not ask him to stop. She could not ask him. This was who she was. This is what she lived for, what she needed. It made her whole.

Her exposed folds, her sweet and sensitive sex, were glowing red from the blows. The blood that slipped there like lightning caused the area to swell quickly. And yet he did not stop. The paddle fell again upon the swollen flesh and this time the tears did fall from her eyes, slipping down over her cheeks to land in a puddle upon the table. She pulled helplessly against her bonds. She felt completely exposed and lost in him. It was if she no longer existed except in him.

His harsh breathing filled the air as the blows continued. Finally the paddle was set aside as his fingers trailed over the damage. Her sex was red, crimson, and so hot. Her warm scarlet blood had filled the area and it puffed it up, making it appear larger. His thick long fingers slid inside her hole, finding her wet as usual. She was a pain slut after all and such treatment as he gave her only aroused her more acutely than she normally was. She had served him many years and still her need for him only increased over time. This is how it should be, the feelings of a slave for her master. She should always want him more. Every day that passed, every minute, she should want him, need him, more than food to eat and water to drink.

He was pleased with what he saw, what she felt. He would reward her later for her behavior. Perhaps he would choose to fill her with his cock, that piece of him she most worshipped, but for now he was hungry. He undid the cuffs that held her to the table and helped her to her feet, tears still wet upon her cheeks, her breathing ragged and rough. He brushed his lips across hers and slapped her ass playfully.

"Go get my supper now, girl," he smiled.

She returned his smile with one of her own, tugging the discarded oversized t-shirt back over her naked frame. "Yes, Master, thank you for using your girl," she whispered and then she was gone, her bare feet causing her to move silently from the room.