His hand was moving up between her legs now, gradually smoothing the oil into her labia and then inside her pussy. She felt completely liquid, as if she could accommodate anything inside her at that moment. She felt two fingers slide into her, and at almost the same moment his thumb slid easily into her anus, squeezing the thin wall of flesh between his fingers and thumb.
His other oily hand went to her clitoris. She did not know whether she was allowed to come, but the question was rather academic because there was no way she was going to be able to stop herself. In moments she was there, pulling uselessly against her bonds and trying as best as she could to thrust against the intrusive fingers.
Half way through her orgasm his fingers were gone, leaving her to ride out her orgasm against thin air, until once more the paddle connected, intensifying her climax until she became dizzy.
It took some minutes for her to come round enough to realise she could hear a female voice in the room. She immediately wondered who it was who had witnessed her punishment, then other noises made her realise it was only the TV. Her Master was sitting watching television. What was the idea? Was she so uninteresting that television was more important? Except she knew, of course, that this was part of her punishment, to be left in this position, wet, tired and sticky, for as long as he desired to leave her there. This was her punishment and she loved it. The television was not there to watch, merely to tell her that he had no intention of releasing her yet.
As she waited she tried to imagine the sight she presented - her straight legs, tied at the ankles, and her bottom and pussy widely exposed. She could feel trickles of wetness on her thighs, whether from the lotion or from within her she neither knew nor cared. She experimented with trying to free her hands and feet, delighting in the knowledge that she could not. She was dribbling round the ball gag, but again there was nothing she could do about it. Apart, that is, from simply lay there and await whatever came next. Was he watching her? She hoped so.
So she waited. She heard him move every so often, sometimes laughing at the TV. He went to get a drink from the kitchen, offering her none, and returned to sit again. And every so often he would remind her of her position with a few words, a caress, a kiss on the cheek or a sudden strike of the paddle, all carefully spaced out so that she never knew what would be next or when.
Later - much later - after so many caresses, so many smacks, he appeared in front of her. She strained up to watch as he undressed and reached behind her to unstrap the gag. Once it was gone he grabbed a handful of the girl's hair and pulled her mouth roughly over his cock. He quite simply used her, thrusting towards her face and pulling her head exactly where he wanted it, with her tongue desperately trying to extend to somehow repay the pleasure of her submission.
Eventually his urgency got too much. One hand held her head, while the other used the paddle on her bottom to occasionally remind her to give him the oral climax he sought. As it arrived the paddling stopped, his thrusting stilled as he pumped his ejaculation into her mouth. Then they were both relaxed, the calm following the storm.
After a few minutes, he untied her. She rose from the table with a funny hissing sound as if the suction of the syrup was reluctant to release her, then stood and stretched her limbs, feeling like a gooey mess, her legs shaky. "Come here," he said, pulling her into a kiss which meant their naked bodies were pressed together, the syrup sticking them. He looked into her eyes and smiled. "I think we need a shower, don't you? But before we do, tell me... will you misbehave again?"
"I'll try to behave, Master, honest I will."
His hand moved to caress her breast. "Did you enjoy your punishment, my love?" he asked.
"Oh yes, Master."
"Then I repeat, will you misbehave again?"
She smiled. "Oh yes Master, as often as I can."
