Sir Punishes Disobedient Baby Girl

I find you dozing off in our bed, sprawled out like a starfish on the duvet. Yeah, sure, maybe your day's been long, but I need to get off. And Sir's needs should be attended to.

I prod you awake by pushing until your eyes are half-open and squinting an almost-glare at me. When you see I'm holding your collar, your eyes immediately drop from mine.

"Good girl," I mumble, moving into the bed to secure your pretty rose-adorned collar around your hung neck. I leave the leash on the side of the bed for now, hanging around a post. There'll be plenty of time to use that, if I want.

I move off the bed and keep my index finger hooked into your collar's O-ring, pulling you with me. You're dressed in a short silk nightie and grey panties, and, though not intended to be sexy, you look incredible. I look at your hair, frizzy from sleep, and snap a hand out to twist my fingers through it sharply. It snaps your head back and you suppress a surprised little gasp.

"Arms up," I order gruffly, in my voice that still feels unfamiliar to me due to my recent pitch drop from testosterone. Your hands immediately snap upwards, and I slip the nightie away to reveal your perfect breasts. They rise in half-moons from your body, perfect shapes. I can't help it - I need to get my mouth on them. I think you can sense that I've had a rough day, because you allow me to latch my teeth around your right nipple and suck and nibble 'til it's purple from my attentions. Your left one receives the same treatment, while you gasp and squirm at the sharpness abuse my teeth perform on your sensitive chest.

Since I'm already leaned down to press my face to your chest, I decide I might as well move further south. You're only wearing your collar and those comfortable grey panties, so I slide my fingers underneath the waistband so that I can pull them down. Your hands stop mine, for a moment, and you grab the collar of my shirt to pull me up into a kiss. I growl at the obvious - well, not quite disobedient - power play but allow your greedy lips to find mine. I end the kiss quickly by digging my teeth firmly into your bottom lip until you whine in discomfort. Then, I return to those panties.

I slide them down your legs and wait for you to step out of them before I admire the trimmed pussy I'm now eye-level with. After all these years, it's familiar to me, and I plant a gentle kiss on your pubic mound out of sentiment. You shiver, whether from cold or arousal, and I remember just how cold it is today.

"Get on the bed," I say, and you do without so much as an argument. "Sir needs that pretty pussy of yours."

Your cheeks turn bright pink from my candor, but you keep your eyes away from mine. I look for the box, our box of things we need for a scene. What you don't know is that I've bought some new things, because I'd like to see you writhe and gasp from things we've never experimented with before.

The spreader bar is an old friend of ours, and you allow me to secure your ankles to the cuffs without so much as a complaint. It's lovely to see you so compliant, your legs spread open for me so as to access everything I need more readily. Then, I turn you on the bed so your legs dangle over one side, and attach ropes to the headboard and baseboard to stretch your arms nearly to the point of hurting them. Before I open the box and introduce you to our new instruments of torture, I catch your gaze with mine and hold it.

"Your safeword is...?"

"Elephantiasis, Sir" you mumble.

"Good girl. And if your mouth is blocked, your cue for me to stop is...?"

"Humming the tune to Stayin' Alive."

"Perfect. Good girl."

You smile at that, happy to have pleased me. You aren't aware that you almost always do please me, usually good girl that you are.

I find the ball gag, because I like to watch you drool around the thing and gasp and moan through the blockage. You open your mouth and let me fasten it behind your ears. Then, the blindfold. I want you jumpy and unsure of what you'll feel, and when. Once you can no longer see me, I rifle through the box without so much as a glance at you. Some of our new toys include: nipple clamps, clothespins, and a particularly wicked-looking glass dildo. The thing is easily seven inches, and curved wickedly. I clip the clamps to your nipples (you moan deliciously when they press into your soft skin), and attach clothespins down the flesh of your sides so that they'll snap off sharply if you squirm too much.

"I have a confession to make," I say, once you're tied up and helpless to my whim.

"Mm?" you reply through the gag, sounding a little panicky.

"I know you've been pleasuring yourself without telling your Sir."

Your eyebrows rocket above your blindfold, and you start to mumble, which sounds garbled and unintelligible through your gag. I get the wand vibrator and a length of cord, securing the vibrator to your thigh so that the rumbly, forceful vibrations push directly against your clit. Then, I find a long-dormant vibrating dildo from the box and insert it inside you, turning it on. You gasp and a high-pitched squeal comes from your throat when the one vibrator is turned on, and the squeal and soft pleasured noises become slightly panicked ones when you feel the wand turned on, full-power on your clit. I can only imagine the discomfort of such strong vibrations against your sensitive clit, but you deserve the feeling. Once you're moaning and gasping on the bed, the humming of the vibrators a lovely symphony behind your own noises, I head into the kitchen with the glass dildo and disregard it all and leave you alone in the room to think about what you've done, and get started on the prep.

I get ice-cold water from a jug in our fridge and pour it into a tall clean vase, and then drop the dildo inside. I can hear your noises from the bedroom, already reaching your climax. Then, after the final gasp, you begin to groan from the overstimulation on your swollen, tortured pussy. I grin wickedly at the thought of the painful pleasure surging through your body in a neverending thrum, and wait a couple more minutes for the dildo to grow unbearably cold. When I pluck it from the water, it feels painful to even hold, so I waste no time in getting back to the bedroom.

You're panting, now, your chest heaving. A couple of the clothespins have fallen off in your struggle to get away from the ceaseless vibrations, leaving bright irritated patches down your sides. Ruthlessly, I yank the vibrating dildo from inside your pussy and immediately insert the ice-cold one.

The noise you make when the cold sensation fills you up is irreplaceable. You gasp and then start to squeal. Your hot pussy will warm it up soon enough.

"Baby girl," I say loudly, making sure to be heard over the noises of the vibrator still sending pleasure to your clit, "I think I need you to suck me off."

You mumble something, and I lean over the bed (tugging on your nipple clamps to elicit a lovely little gasp) to remove your gag. You work your jaw out a little once the ball gag is gone and freeing up your mouth, and I'm shedding my pants and boxers so that I can fuck your pretty little face.

"Sir," you gasp, "Sir, I came without permission."

"I know," I grumble, positioning my knees on either side of your face.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, sweet girl."

I press my swollen clit-cock against your barely-open mouth, and the minute the head touches your lips you purse them to receive me. The thrum of pleasure that it sends through me when you begin to suck is only intensified from the panicked noises you make around my dick while you begin to barrel towards your second forced orgasm. You suck harder, and I groan.

Fuck...

And you climax, your hips bucking wildly and almost uncontrollably while the vibrator accompanies your body. Then, you groan again, as you are forced into your third round of pleasure.

Meanwhile, your lips on my dick start to grow sloppy as you're distracted by your own senses, so I slap you sharply on the cheek.

"Do you need more punishments, or can you get your Sir off?"

Your lips immediately wrap around my cock again and you suck with an energy I didn't know you still had left in you, sending lightning bolts up and down my spine and into the small of my neck. It doesn't take long before I'm coming, throwing my head back and forcing my cock further into your mouth. I can feel myself dripping onto your face, and when I move away, you gasp.

"Sir, can you please turn the vibrator off?" you whine.

"You don't like the pleasure?"

"I do," you gasp, panting still, "I do! But it's - a-ah - it's too much!"

I raise an eyebrow at your spread-eagled form, and then pull again on the nipple clamps 'til you damn near scream.

"Give it another hour," I say, quietly, feeling the smirk curving my mouth, "and then we'll see whether or not you understand just how sorry you should be for touching yourself without Sir's permission."