I'd been trying not to look at Priya for the last thirty minutes. She had entered my office right at the time I said I'd be done with work, but I was on a conference call regarding a tricky problem and I couldn't get off. She'd knelt the entire time, and her knees had to be sore.
I rotated in the chair and took in the sight of her. She was naked, with only a thin black leather collar around her neck. A silver O-ring dangled toward her full breasts, and on one side of the ring was the word "His." The other side said "bitch," her favorite endearment. We weren't into pet play, but the brutality of it appealed to her, and as a result, it appealed to me too. She was a woman who I didn't have to hold back with.
She cradled a plastic cane, thirty inches long and made of flexible acrylic, in her hands. It was nastier than the rattan ones I had, because it didn't give as much when it struck. I was glad she'd chosen that one, partly because I wasn't sure how the rattan would hold up to the wetness. She'd held the cane in her teeth as long as she could, and it was still wet with drool.
She looked at me with her big brown eyes. "I peeked in before, and you looked like you were having a frustrating day, Master. I thought perhaps you'd like to take it out on me."
"There are other people I'd rather take it out on."
Priya smirked just slightly. "You know, Master, you are free to play with whoever you like. Should I call around for you?" I knew that she knew that I meant people at work, and not play partners. When I'd first started playing with Priya it was all business, and she rarely showed me her sense of humor. That had changed. A lot had changed. She wore my collar now. I took the cane.
She put her hands behind her head and arched her back, presenting her breasts as a target. I wouldn't even have to get up out of the chair.
"Go downstairs and wait, bitch," I told her.
She grinned. I'd never stop being amazed at the way she responded to that word. She hopped up and headed away, her ass swaying teasingly. She knew how to walk, and she knew how to push my buttons.
That was okay, I knew how to push hers, too.
I listened to her footsteps until I was sure she was down there, waiting. She'd already been patient, and I didn't want her to wait much longer. Besides, at some point I'd be hungry. If we were going to play, we needed to get on with it. First, though, I ordered delivery online. Chinese. I never ordered Indian anymore because I had home cooking for that. The food would take forty-five minutes. Plenty of time.
I walked downstairs. Priya was standing, leaning against the X-frame in the corner of the living room. It folded up and stored away in case we had guests, but we hadn't had non-kinky guests over since she'd moved in. If we ever did, I supposed I'd have to let Priya wear clothes.
"You crave pain, bitch?" I asked.
"I crave the feeling of being owned, Master. Whatever you want to do to me. Would you rather I sucked your cock? I'd gag on it for you. You could --"
I slapped her face to shut her up. Hard enough for her to feel, but carefully—just the tips of my fingers, on the soft part of the cheek. "I know my options." I'd been a kinkster for two decades, but I swear she was more perverted than me.
"Mmm," she said, as if I just whispered something sweet into her ear. She wriggled against the frame.
"BDSM 101," I said. "Start with a warmup."
"Only if you want to," she said.
"Oh, I didn't mean I was going to give you one. I just wanted to tell you what good practice I was going to ignore. Tits out."
She arched her back. I watched her face. Saucy one moment. Then bracing for what I was about to do. Then just breathing heavily as the anticipation lengthened. She couldn't brace forever.
I planted a sharp stinging line of pain across her chest. She gasped. A thin purple double line appeared on one breast, and then skipped her cleavage to continue on the other, ending in her nipple.
"Sure you can handle it, bitch?"
"Don't give me a choice, Master," she replied.
I tapped her breasts lightly with the cane several times. I wasn't being nice, not really. It was a little too late to claim that anything going on was nice. I just knew that anyone could take more if they were a little warmed up, and besides, each tap irritated the line I'd already placed on her tits. Priya had dark brown skin, and I needed to get a deep shade of purple to really mark her. The last marks I'd given her had faded. I was okay with that, but I'd watched how she looked in the mirror at them, eagerly searching to make sure they were still there, disappointed when she couldn't make them out anymore.
I loved Priya, and I wanted her to have the things she wanted. I'm a giver. Really, I am. I've just always had to find the right woman to appreciate my kind of gifts.
"Oh!" she yelled, at the first harder blow. She'd fallen for the rhythm of my tapping, and tranced out to it.
I worked her over good, focusing on the underside of her breasts, just below the nipples. Hitting the same damn spot made it hurt more, but I also wanted to leave the tops unmarked so they'd be presentable the next time we went out. I liked having them presented. She knew my preferences, and didn't have very many tops that fully covered anymore. By the time I finished with her tits, she was moaning, a tear running down her face, and the undersides were full of angry purple lines.
"Like it?" I asked.
"You know I do. You know it turns me on."
"Gonna cry about it?"
She bit her lip, wanting to deny it, but the tear kept sliding down and I knew she could feel it. It had to be a delicate sensation compared to what I'd done. A tickle.
"Turn around. It's not half what I'm going to do to your ass."
She obeyed. The midpoint on the frame came right about to her mid section. Her bosom fit perfectly in between the two planks of the cross as they spread out, when she was wearing heels. Without heels, the planks pinched her breasts. I didn't have boobs, and I didn't have the bruises she had, but I thought I could imagine what that felt like.
I sometimes tell people I'm a vicarious masochist. I enjoy feeling the imagined pain of my bottoms. Then again, maybe I'm just a sadist. "I was thinking I'd have you kneel at my feet when we eat tonight, but I think you're going to end up sitting in a chair, instead."
"Uh-oh."
"Hmm?"
"That means you're going to make sitting in a chair hurt, aren't you?"
"That's the lovely thing about our relationship. We know each other so well." I started gentle, warming her up. I figured the sensation in her breasts was probably more intense than anything I was doing. I ramped up until the cane had her attention again.
"Gonna cry?" I asked her again.
