Meeting Her Wants

"Here girl," he called across to her, patting his armchair.

"I want to read," she pouted and looked up at him sweetly, adding, with a smile: " that is, if you don't mind, sir."

"And your wants are my concern?"

"Don't be obnoxious, sir."

"Don't be vexatious, pet."

"Well, let me read then."

"And if I mind?"

"You have that puppy dog look that is irresistible, sir. You are so unfair."

"Put my diary down and come show me how unfair I am."

She blushed, turned on her side and reached across to slide the leather bound volume of secrets on to her bedside table. She thought that he had not noticed when she had surreptitiously swept it off his desk during an energetic bout of doggie position sex earlier that afternoon. Damn him.

She paused and then lifted her hindquarters off the bed. She turned her head, grinned and began to wriggle her recently abused pussy tempting him to smack her backside.

Eventually, finding that her gesture did not get the desired response, she rolled over to look over at him. She sometimes felt like a child with him - no a toy. There again, in many senses she was just a toy. Well she did love to be toyed with. He couldn't dney her that. She smiled at her silent joke and waited for him to say something clever that she could giggle happily at.

In the hallway the clock struck ten and chimed its way relentlessly into both their heads.

"I believe the topic was my unfairness," he said, breaking the silence between them with a warning frown.

"And...?" She queried, continuing to smile glibly back at him

"...And your theft of my diary," he added dryly.

"I...I was curious."

He shook his head, disregarding her excuses and stood there waiting for a while, before stripping off his jacket and sitting down next to her on the bed.

"I believe, pet," he said somewhat wearily, "the time has come to address both subjects once your delectable form is draped over my lap."

"Can't we talk about candlesticks and kings instead, sir?"

"No, you auctioned off all the silverware to pay for your last party frock."

"You can't hold parties and not let me buy new frocks. That would be unethical."

"And with your quick- witted come backs you aren't fit to fuck a baronet, let alone a king."

"That's not what you said earlier when you applied your jewels to my every which way but loose."

"I was exercising my rights."

"Oh. I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were giving me a long, overdue fuck."

He pulled her head up and looked at her without saying a word. The cold look he gave her felt so chill that it was as if he had slapped her hard across the face. She felt a hot prickling and the warmth of her face flushing, despite holding his gaze. Tears built in the corner of her eyes until she was left looking at him through a mist.

"I'm sorry," she apologised.

"So you should be."

"I get carried away sometimes, sir."

"Here!"

He patted his lap. She didn't move at first hearing only the suppressed anger. Then she bowed her head, murmured "yes sir" and moved across to lay herself over his lap, her feet touching the floor, her body lying diagonally across his lap and the bed.

"Time for my bitch to button her lip," he muttered and pulled her skirt up. The buttons tore from the skirt and popped off the ruined garment.

"You could have asked, sir," she said angrily, trying to rise.

"You could have anticipated, girl," he responded holding her down with his hand. She seethed and then went limp.

"Good girl."

"You wouldn't want me to be too clever sir."

"You wouldn't want me to be too relentless, pet."

"You can be as relentless as you choose, when my arse is at your disposition sir."

"It's very gratifying to hear you finally admit to that."

"Your pants give you away sir."

"One might say the same of the way your panties have miraculously draped themselves around your ankles."

"I was just anticipating, sir."

"Well, complete the process. Pull your skirt right up and we'll begin."

"Yes sir."

She was such a teasing pet, he thought, quite incorrigible. Actually, since he was about to enlighten her as to the error of her ways, he could cancel that thought. She reached behind her, pulled her skirt up so it was bunched around her waist and placed herself entirely at his disposal.

A pet in dire need of correction then, he advised his conscience, placing a possessive hand on her pale backside. Why that very afternoon she had had the gall to challenge him to find a way to enable her to suck him while she was being spanked. Well, he would demonstrate just such a way in due course, but, right now, his mind was on more immediate retribution.

He pushed her skirt up higher and enjoyed the sight of more of her exposed backside. Pressing the backs of her thighs into his hip, he made her raise her buttocks up into a more prominent position. She looked so vulnerable from this angle, though not quite as much as when he chose to apply a fine rattan to her elevated rump.

His cock jerked and she giggled at the movement beneath her, only to be rewarded by the sharp report of the first slap on her delightful derriere.

She drew a long breath, but didn't say anything as the warmth of the contact spread across her flesh. She wanted to reach back and feel the abused flesh, but knew that he wanted unhindered access to her taught backside.

And then it began.

The hand raised...the spread of the palm...the descent...and the explosive contact... followed by her sigh. It was a process that he'd repeated over and over, but this time it was different.

He seemed to be focussing on the same spot, just below the crown of her right buttock, where the fleshy pink surface seemed so responsive to his hands and where the change of colour from flesh to pink to red would be most marked. Again and again the hand descended. Again and again her heart pounded.

She wondered how long she would be able to endure this relentless assault on her anatomy without giving voice. She wondered how many times he would spank her before his mind turned to other games. And each time he slapped her, her train of thought was broken.

Slowly she began to discern a pattern to his strictures: six spanks and then a pause to observe and a slow stroking motion to caress the other cheek and to reward it with the same determination as he punished her right flank. Six more swats and she was ready to yelp out and to plead with him to stop. Six strokes before she was sweetness and light and desirous of more intimate touches.

He paused and reached for her hand, pulling it back from where it hung, helping her to keep her balance. He pushed her thighs forward and forced her body off his lap, giving him the space that he needed to pull her hand underneath her body, and to spread the hand so that it could cup her sex.

"Do it, girl. I want to see how unfair it is to allow you to pleasure yourself while you are punished."

"Yes sir," she wriggled happily into position and began to stroke herself with the expert precision of one well accomplished in the art of masturbation. Her finger pressed against the parting of her sex and slid into the opening, knowing the way like a traveller coming across a familiar spot once more.

A second finger joined the happy digit in sliding up and down the moistening crease. and then, so as not to be left out her palm pressed against her receptive sex as she began to throw herself into dreamy thoughts of the fucking that would follow her punishment.

He sat back, amused by her self-abuse, contenting himself with the occasional light slap to remind her that he was still there and emphasise the fact that she was only allowed to touch herself because he had permitted it.

She was thinking along the same lines and the thought drove her hand to accelerate its motions, twisting a little at the wrist as she let two fingers penetrate her sex and thought of them as ambassadors for his cock in the hot, velvet court of her vagina.

"Stop, girl," came the inevitable command, just as her slickness was turning to wetness, just as the pain of the spanking that he had inflicted was melting into the warmth of pleasure that she had sought by secretly reading his diaries and learning about all his intrigues.

It was so unfair that he had found her nose deep in his diary and caught her in the act. It was so unfair that the punishment had been a mere spanking followed by a little self-pleasuring that would never compensate for her unfinished reading.

Surely she deserved more than this? Why should he ration her satisfaction in this way? Why should she have to tolerate the harshness of his control with only the most tokenistic of protests? She turned her head and pouted at him.

"What is it, girl?"

"An unsatisfied need, sir," she teased, "since you don't care for my wants."

"You have only to ask, girl."

"You have only to anticipate, sir."

"I think we've been here before girl."

"Why, I do believe we have, sir."

"It's becoming quite a mantra."

"There is a way forward, sir."

"Oh? Would you care to demonstrate?"

"I would love to," she giggled softly and slid off his lap, kicking her panties completely off and letting her skirt fall back down around her thighs to cover her immodesty. She knelt on the thick carpet. Her hands pressed into the Moroccan weave as looked up at him, watching the hint of a frown cross his face.

Then she turned around and with some deliberation unclipped her belt and unzipped the skirt, moving forward and away from him so that the skirt slid over her bottom and down her thighs, gradually revealing the voluptuous and recently spanked surface to his gaze.

"Would you care to make productive use my belt, sir?"

"What's yours is mine. And who am I to put productivity on hold, when there is such presentable territory to cover?"

"Would you like to abuse my arse, sir?"

"Sometimes, you have the most excellent ideas, girl."

"I have been well-trained."

"Your attribution skills are second to none."

"Your ability to vacillate and pontificate are second to none too sir."

"Long words do not suit your soft mouth girl. Kindly stop plagiarising from my foolish diary and find something more appropriate to give you that which you desire."

"I think you have the very thing sir," she smiled as she crawled towards him and reached up to unzip him.

"Give me the belt, girl."

"Do I have to, sir," she sighed, but picked it up and passed it to him before crouching down. Then she pouted and took his cock in her mouth, happy to find its taste so familiar and its girth so acceptably filling. She sucked and tasted, turning his member over in her mouth, savouring the organ that she so loved to pamper in any hole that he chose to plunge. Well, there was that unfortunate incident with the mousetrap – but, he shouldn't let his hands wander over the domestic servants!

She smiled to herself and continued to exercise her mouth on her master's cock, laving and caressing as only she knew how, feeling him harden and tense up as her tongue lovingly flicked the underside of his sex. It was such a pleasure to have him so contained and so focussed on her every movement.

"Let me feel your flesh girl," he determined, cupping her breasts and squeezing them thoroughly. "Let me feel the softness of your mouth – the warmest of lips and the softest of tongues."

No teeth then, she thought and suppressed a wry grin. Without wondering why, she obediently bit her lip and pulled it up, pressing her upper molars under it while pushing her tongue over the lower row of pearly white teeth. He sighed to feel her flesh against his, and pressed himself forward so that he was largely accommodated in her welcoming mouth. Then he looked down at her wide open eyes, seeing the sudden realisation within them as he flexed the belt in his hands.

"I always wondered why it was called a blow job," he chuckled and then addressed himself to her derriere.

The belt was duly applied and she suddenly realised that her dare was being implemented. And with considerable skill. No more sweetmeats for her while he spanked her and no more ringing up her friends to tell them how she was about to be spanked yet again. She would just have to focus on his desires from now on and, on reflection, she decided, with a muted squeak, as the belt caught the back of her thigh, with a stinging cut, that was probably for the best.

Despite the hinted sadism in his exacted retaliation for her clever remark, he took special care that the belt buckle did not find its sharp and shiny mark on her soft flesh immediately. No, that could wait until after he had come and withdrawn, languid with selfish pleasure, from her mouth.

Once she had swallowed, she would squeal loudly as the belt fulfilled his purposes most effectively, almost cutting her flesh with the vigorous use it was put to. She began to feel that she had been rather reckless to offer him the instrument until he told her to turn and then reach behind her and part her buttocks.

She nodded and turned. No surprise there. In this mood she was always immediately obedient to his wishes. There was no backchat as she pulled herself wide open to his gaze. He sat back and admired the slightly engorged labial lips and the tightness of her rear hole, a hole that had served him admirably since he had allowed her to be his.

His legs were splayed to keep his balance when he knelt down behind her. He pressed his booted foot next to her face on the rug and watched as she turned her head to kiss his leather boot. Then he spreading her buttocks further and let the leather belt trail up and down her most sensitive parts. He watched the trembling of her spine and reached across to grab her hair, pressing her face down to make love to his boot, while his cock once more erect sought sanctuary in the warmth of her puffy and excited cunt.

He fucked her hard on that rug, pushing her shoulders down and pressing her lips to his footwear. Her near-naked body responded pleasingly to his demands as he sank into her and then buffeted her with his aroused member. His balls were pressed against her sex as he ravaged her body and yet he pulled her back from coming by his repeated movement.

The nadir came when he slid out from her sticky cunt and listened to her moan in unfulfilled lust for five whole torturous minutes. She closed her lips tightly and muttered "pig, pig, pig" between closed lips while she waited for the final act.

Then, freshly moistened by a quick dive into her well-juiced sex, he addressed her rather indelicately displayed arsehole. He filled her in an easy and completing stroke. He pressed in hard and stole the breath from her body in a long drawn out squeal. Oh boy! She couldn't wait to tell her friends, even if he caned her hard for the indiscretion.

No, that was wrong. She would be good. She would be modest - ooooooh - deeper sir - and discrete - mmm - harder master - and she would devote herself to - oh fuck me fuck me fuck me - to being his.

How could she be otherwise when his brutal - oh god sir! - penetration was accompanied by her head being tugged back and the pinch of his fingers on her impudent and still-to-be-whipped tits. It was all too much. She came with a shout of delight, eyes closed, derrier raised, sperm drenched, as he took her to where his concerns met her wants in their entirety.