I hate it when he gets new ideas. I truly do. That means new pain in new places, new words, new acts of violence. I like routine. I'm used to the same thing, being punished the same way. Knowing the rules and having a specific consequence for each. That's the way I was trained. But when he gets new ideas...that means adjustment, adaptation. Surprises.
I hate surprises.
He has a fascination with ranches. He and his wife owned at least half a dozen of them at one point in time or another. God knows he has enough money. He bought me a farm a little over six months ago, with a bonus check from a business deal. I have a couple of hired men and a cook and a housekeeper, who keep me company while he keeps his wife entertained with her thousands of pairs of shoes and long tiring hours at the spa. She is his attractive arm piece, the woman he married to look good, to keep the offers from rolling in. I, on the other hand...I am his business trips. She doesn't know him at all. Sometimes I wonder if she's ever even seen him with a five o'clock shadow on his face, or if she stares at him from his bed and watches that half-cocked boyish grin when he smiles. Does she straighten his jet black curls when he dozes, bed-rumpled and disheveled? Does she know he has a dimple on his taut left asscheek?
He showed me the farm when he bought it, and he told me, "I don't want you to ever worry about rent again, my love. I want you to leave your stripper friends and that damn pole behind. Come here, so I never have to worry about you."
I was speechless, leaning up against one of the poles outside the barn, and just stared at him. I didn't know what to do, or say, or think. He gave me a ranch. With horses and chickens and apple trees and a garden and a couple of cows just to say he had some. I smiled and nodded, finally, and he grinned back, almost looking relieved. I wanted to laugh. As if I'd say no. He pulled out a velvet box. I shivered involuntarily in anticipation. Today was the day I was getting my choker. The collar, the symbol that I belonged to him forever. He opened it, and I gasped. It was black silk ribbon, thicker silk than I've ever seen, studded with diamonds like studded dog collar. It had a silver buckle, but the pendant was such an odd shape. He picked it up off the velvet lining and I saw it clearly. It was a tiny silver key. He led me over to the barn and used the tiny key in the padlock, slid the heavy door open. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the light, but when I did, pleasure tingled through my entire body.
Spreader bars hung from the ceiling on huge hooks, a whipping wheel was mounted on the wall. A saddle sat on a saddle rack in the middle of the floor, a ten inch dildo sticking out of the middle of the seat. A ring was installed in the saddle horn and the back of the saddle, presumably there to keep someone in their place. I gaped, suddenly a little afraid. The poles in the middle of the barn had metal rings mounted at different heights, and the walls themselves were covered in his favorite implements of torture. I spotted a new one, though, and inquired after it. He explained: It was a bullwhip, and would leave many painfully sweet memories upon my body. I nodded, still taking everything in. Spiked rubber paddles, wooden and leather paddles, riding crops, ankle and wrist cuffs, ball gags. Nipple clamps. Sizes of dildos I didn't know existed. Butt plugs, clit clamps, you name it, he had it. I picked one of the dildos up and examined it.
"Oh, no, my pet, you musn't touch that We'll have fun with it soon enough." He smiled evilly at me, and my already wet pussy responded to his smile by getting a little wetter. I wanted him. He knew it. He could probably smell the hot juices from my pussy running down my leg. It was under his orders that I never wore panties, except for when we role-played. He liked to break me of my innocence, and he always wanted the same thing. Innocent-looking white panties under a pink dress and white socks with frills on the hem. I didn't understand why, sometimes he just wanted to make me bleed.
I didn't get to find out about that dildo that day, however. I had already been toyed with that trip, and he would go away for a few weeks to make sure I broke a few rules he could punish me for. I suppose that's why he kept all that help around the ranch, so they could keep an eye out for anything I wasn't supposed to be doing. He fastened the buckle under my red hair and made me promise I wouldn't unlock it until his return. I nodded solemnly and watched him drive away, jealous of his wife suddenly and the time she spent with a man she didn't deserve.
I marked the calendar, the day he said he was coming back. It could be anytime, however, sometimes he showed up a day or so ahead of time and caught me doing things I wasn't supposed to be doing. There was so much to do, moving my things in from the little storage shed out by the barn, setting up the bedroom how I knew he liked it, with all its satin and leather and rubber. I busied myself, doing anything I could not to think of the barn and its interesting toys. On my trips to the storage shed, I stared longingly at the barn and I could feel my pussy tingling with sudden wetness and warmth. One of the ranch hands was always around there, fixing a fence post, walking a horse, tending the garden or pitching hay. I glared at one of them, knowing it wasn't his fault he was around. My Master had probably ordered one of them to keep an eye on the barn at all times. My Master...that sounded so nice. How long I had waited for him to name me his pet, his slave. I touched the collar at my neck. The silk caressed my skin and I smiled slowly. Yes, I was happy.
Days passed. The housekeeper walked in on me in the tub using a waterproof vibrator and she clucked her disapproval as I blushed and ducked my head under the bubbles, and then, two days later she had to help me when I accidentally handcuffed myself onto a dildo mounted on the wall. The other ranch hand "accidentally" stepped on the remote to my three-level vibrating butt plug and I gave a yelp of surprise, sitting bolt upright in my seat at the kitchen table. Apparently I had left it at the other end of the table and forgotten. My Master would hear of this, I was sure.
Soon the days were creeping by like a millennia, and I just sat around the house one day with an erotic novel, my fingers under the blanket in my pants, just fingering myself. That was hardly the pleasure I wanted. I wanted to be punished. I wanted pain and welts and bruises and I wanted to be hurt. I almost wished he had asked the ranch hands to spank me when they found me that way, just so I could have a little fun, but no. Look but not touch. So I had only my slender fingers for company until his return in three days.
That night my curiosity was too much to handle. I put on a t-shirt, pulling it over my full breasts, and the cloth rubbing my nipples was almost too much to handle from the lack of sexual entertainment I'd been having. I was only wearing a thong but I didn't want to bother too much with real panties. I don't even think I owned any. I put my feet in a pair of fuzzy slippers and padded out to the barn. That saddle had been too much on my mind, and I wasn't about to push away any of those thoughts. Praying that no one caught me, I unlocked the padlock, put my necklace back on, and slid the door closed after me. What I assumed was a motion-sensored light was on in the corner, and the whole room was barely lit up. I tiptoed over to the bullwhip and pulled it off its hook on the wall, running my finger down the black braided leather. It was firm and well-oiled and I bit my lip thinking about what fun I and my master would have with it. I snapped it against my leg and winced a little. If he did it hard enough I'd have scars for the rest of my life. I moaned at the thought if his hands on me and said softly, "I can't wait any longer....."
A hand went over my eyes, and one went over my mouth, picking me up and dragging me backwards. I fought back, kicking and pulling the hands away from my mouth, trying to bite, trying to scream. They didn't let me and I felt a syringe plunge into my neck. Instantly I sagged in the grip of my captor, stunned and woozy, and I knew. My Master had come home.
I succumbed to the darkness that swam towards me and the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was a blurry face bending over me.
A sharp pain sliced across my back and I struggled to open my eyes, much to the chagrin of my aching head. I was dazed and for a few moments couldn't figure out where I was. Another sharp pain, along with a cracking noise, and I bolted upright in my restraints. I couldn't see. I was masked and gagged, and I still couldn't figure out what was wrong.
"You're awake, my love." I heard his voice, like butter sliding over my body. I mumbled something against my gag and he chuckled. "I normally like to hear your cries of agony, darling...but this time, I don't want a noise to come out of you. Not one. Do you understand?"
I nodded emphatically. I had disobeyed and the deep cold tone to his voice told me he was angrier than he had ever been with me. He laughed low, sounding evil, almost crazy, and he continued, "I'm going to whip you now, and I don't want one sound to come from your throat. I don't know how many strokes to give you so we're just going to go until I say we're done."
The whip cracked in the air and then cracked again against the tender flesh of my back and across my asscheeks. It took everything I had not to yelp out in pain and I twisted in my bonds, trying to rip my wrist free of the silk rope. He clucked in disappointment. "No, don't move a muscle."
I grit my teeth and twisted back to my original position, my breasts pressed to the rough wall. I could feel my nipples hardening and wetness forming between my legs at the blossoms of pain on my skin, listening to my Master's breathing, picturing his muscular body moving to the rhythm of the whip.
Soon I lost track of the pain. It had all become a vast fire, burning through my entire body. I burned for him, so bad I was crying silently for him fingers to soothe my body and take me to a place of more exquisite pain. This crude punishment was so different than the things he had done to me before. All of this, the barn, his toys, all of it was more rough, not an elegant thing like we used to have.
It took a few seconds for me to realize that he had stopped. I felt a tiny trickle of blood go down the back of my knee and down my calf. He must have seen it. He untied me from the wall and I sagged to the floor, ready to pass out again. Once he had taken the blindfold and gag off, he left me there.
I pushed myself to my knees and he was walking towards me again, holding a belt with an iron ring in the front and in the back. I watched him through half-closed eyes as he tightened the belt around my naked waist and helped me up. He grabbed my arm and hauled me over to the saddle, just what I had been eyeing when I got here.
"Get up there." He swatted my ass, and new flames licked at my welted asscheek, bringing tears to my eyes. I climbed up into the saddle behind the dildo, not sitting on it yet, and he blindfolded me again, tying my wrist back up with the silk rope and yanking my arms up and apart, securing them on the poles on either side of the saddle. I hung there, my head lolling from the pain, but I knew that what was coming would be better, would be the reward I had waited for.
