Subduing A Cunt

I am late, why doesn't matter, but when I pull up to what must be the trashiest motel in Beaumont, Texas I know that I am 30 minutes late-- and getting later, because I don't want to get out of the car. The shorts and tank are bad-- a woman my size shouldn't wear things like this ---AND not with three inch pumps; heavy make-up, chipped nail polish, two sets of heavy hoop earrings. Jesus, the whole outfit screams "slut". I waste five more minutes before wiggling my ass into the office and paying for a room. How did I end up being the one to pay for it? It must have amused you greatly to have me attend to that detail. I leave a note for you with the desk clerk- making sure not to fold it; your slut is in room 128. "In for a penny, in for a pound," I think, smirking a little to myself.

In the room, and boy there is not much to it, I quickly do what I would have had an hour to do if I had been on time. Stripping and setting aside the horrid outfit, lubing my cunt and ass for you, emptying my bladder and kneeling to wait. It is not a long wait. You, of course, are right on time. And you are not smiling. The door shuts and you grab my hair, tugging to a corner of the tiny room. "Hands and knees, now." I don't question you, but move to all fours as fast as I can. You are moving around the room now, setting things down, moving them. "What time did you get here?" ah, hell. Two loud smacks on my ass. "I don't know. I was late."

Several more hard blows push me forward onto my face, "I know. I called the desk and only a man had checked in by 10a." I turn to tell you what I think of that, but another two strokes paralyze me. Jesus, it wasn't your hand. I am not willing to look and see what it was. A sharp jerk to my hair and you are telling me to bend over the bed. Shoving my face hard into the fabric. I am already shaking and trembling. Your hand finds me wet and swollen. I am both excited and shamed that you know. The pain is exquisite, I can not count--- only breathe and still myself. Accepting the pain, welcoming it. Pain that I associate with Master, always pain and pleasure with Master. You are not angry. You would never strike me in anger, but this is meant to hurt and it does. You are very, very good at hurting me when it pleases you.

When your hands move to my hips, I try to raise my knee onto the bed. Your hand stops me, caressing my thigh, moving my leg to where it was. Ah! god, you slide a finger in my ass. I hate that. Oh how I hate that. I know what is coming now. You shift your weight, I can feel your heavy arousal against my thigh. Your fingers spread my ass wide. I cry out as your cock slides home. On the second thrust I feel your hips slam against me. My calves tighten as your cock forces me onto my toes. Moaning into the bed I whisper, "Master, Master" as you burn my asshole with your heat. You are reprimanding me for my tardiness, for my dishonesty. I am only nodding and grunting with each thrust. Little broken sounds and whimpers are all I can manage. My body sags with relief when your cock withdraws from me.

I want to crawl after you to the bathroom and beg your forgiveness. I hear water running and sounds that I cannot decipher at all. Now you are pressing against the back of my thighs, pushing me to my knees on the bed. Pressing hard against my cunt. It feels like your fist, Master. There is no gentleness about you at all, and I am truly afraid for a moment. When you have the object lodged in my cunt my feet are pulled down to the floor again. I still do not know what is in me. But my cunt feels stretched to the point of tiny tears along my vaginal wall. Sharp, panting breaths and I can just barely stay on top of the sensation. It is too close to pleasure to be pain, so clear and penetrating that I can feel it in every part of my body. When you grab my ass and spread it again, I have to fight the urge to crawl up the bed. Your heavy cock invades me, one slow inch at a time. You are stroking my back now, telling me how tight and sweet your slave's ass is. My make up is smeared across the sheets; sheets that are wet with my tears. You are fucking me harder now, faster, but not so deeply. Desire is snaking through my abdomen, my hands clutching as it pools deep in me. You have filled me so completely, Master. The thin wall between my cunt and ass is alive with sensation. Two heavy objects rubbing in tandem. It is mesmerizing and I discover that I can move now without searing pain.

Slowly I start to move my hips. When you do not stop me, I am bolder and try to meet your thrusts. I can feel your balls brushing my thighs and your hands still stroking the long column of my back. You stop then. Abruptly moving from me. I am trembling with need now. Plastic? Why the hell do I hear a plastic bag? I keep my head buried in the bed, willing to trust you. A blunt edge rubs across my bare cunt. Circles my asshole-- up the inside of each thigh. What the hell is this about? Then the object in my cunt jumps and jerks. Almost pulled out and roughly shoved in again. I am screaming as you fill my ass with your thick pole again. Incoherent sorts of babbling, broken phrases of Master and please. The contrast between your demanding cock and gentle hands nearly undoes me and I can feel an orgasm curling down my spine. So close, so close. But the object in my cunt is too big and painful for me to actually cum. Begging now. You steadily thrust in my ass. I am begging and pleading for you to make it better, to "fix it, sweet Master make me cum, please." You do not answer and you do not stop your relentless pounding. In and out, clean, smooth strokes. So deliberate, Master-- so controlled. I do not feel in control of my own response at all. My breathing is heavy and erratic. Pleading when I can gather the air to do so. I am insensible with the pain and the sharp pleasure, with the glory of your Mastery over me. Still the pounding, fucking. Your hands curl now into my neck and insistent fingers move between my teeth. Before long I am drooling and licking at the tips of two strong fingers. The other hand presses my neck forward as you continue fucking my ass.

Your voice in my ear, "I own you. Your cunt is mine. Your ass is mine. Your breath is mine." I expect you to squeeze my neck to make a point, but you do not. Through the fog in my head I know it is because you do not need to. I know I am yours. There is nothing I wouldn't give to you, Master. I am hardly aware when you remove both objects from me, and roll me to my back, tugging my hips to the edge of the bed. More swipes across my skin with the dull edge. I am too far gone to wonder what it is. The sweat standing on your skin is so erotic. I want to lick you dry. Ah god, and then you are in my cunt. I can feel my flesh closing around you. How can you fill me so well after stretching me, Master? I am afraid I will not be able to feel you, but it is the same glove-like fit as always. Only my fuck hole is so sensitive to every movement. I imagine that I can count your heartbeats as you pull my legs up and settle into against the back of my thighs. My ankles rest at your right shoulder and you begin to pound me with all of your weight. More babbling and then I cannot even think to make noises. The first orgasm steals through me without warning. I watch with glazed eyes as you smile and thrust a little more slowly: the only concession I get as I slip into that place where I am molded completely by your needs, your demands.

Your cock shifts smoothly to my ass. Oh Master, it is so good. So good. My head thrashes from side to side. You shift again and press a finger to my clit. All the while moving smoothly in and out of my ass. I tighten my abdomen, trying to draw myself father up, to give you greater access to my hole. You oblige me by spreading my legs farther, one on each shoulder. All your weight comes forward and you begin to fuck me in earnest. I love the set of your mouth, the direct gaze that draws me into you, Master. I do not move at all as your hand comes down over my mouth and nose. One, two, three strokes. When your hand moves away and your cock is withdrawn I cry out, "No!" Your insistent hands press my thighs farther apart. It is a cup, a stupid plastic cup and you are scraping my skin with it... the slit of my cunt and my exposed asshole. "Push" I am bewildered by the command. A hard jab with the cup rim, "Slave, push the precum out of your ass." I do, at least I think I do. You only grunt and set the cup aside. When you return and motion, I obediently open my mouth. I hate that ball with a passion. It is set a little crooked in my mouth and I cannot get it adjusted before you press the tape to my face. My jaw will ache like hell tomorrow. "Now," you admonish, "be quieter." I nod and drop my eyes.

You use my legs to drag my ass a little farther off the bed. Pressing my legs overhead you tell me to wrap my arms around my knees, and grasp my wrists. I cannot reach quite that far. It is uncomfortable, limiting my breathing capacity and straining my neck, and my ass and cunt are so vulnerable to you. You are wrapping tape around my hands while I consider what this position will allow you to do. There are two, no three fingers pressed into my cunt, stretching me, tearing my swollen skin before I realize that not only am I gagged, my fingers are not free to snap or signal in any way. You have left me without any means of communicating. My face, as always, shows everything I am thinking and you shrug and smile, before adding your second hand to the busy, stretching and tugging of my cunt lips.

I manage a guttural sort of cry. It is hard, spit collects around my tongue as I struggle to make noise and I realize that I cannot swallow with my jaw stretched so wide. My breathing shortens and the first fingers of panic shoot through me. Abruptly your hands leave me and hard slaps rain on my tender thighs. Not so fast that I cannot cope, but steady and loud in the room. Ah, the sting is incredible. I do not think I can tolerate this new torture for long. I can see it is a fly swatter handle when you raise it into my field of vision. Who the hell decided that was okay? It is too painful. I focus on outlasting Master, breathing even and deep, calming myself. Working through each slap, absorbing it, developing gratitude for it, surviving it. Each of the last three slaps is each punctuated with a quiet warning. Trust - Me - slave. Oh Master, I am burning. A fiery mess of stripes that you are caressing now. Yes, yes I nod-- under control once more. 'Yes, I trust you,' conveyed with the serenity of my expression, the laxness of my body, the evenness of my breathing.

Once more, fingers enter me, stretch me-- two, three. I feel my cunt give into the demand, enlarge to accommodate your hand. One hand fucking my cunt, the other roaming across what must be raised welts left by your discipline. Trembling takes me by force. I cannot stop shaking. So helpless now. I am frightened and excited by it. My back tries to arch as Master adds his last finger. Thumb against my tender spot at the apex of my cunt, I know he must have filled me until only the back of his hand shows. I would scream if I could. Relentlessly pressing deeper and deeper into me. The hot liquid trickling in little drops down my crack is surely blood, as his hand stretches and tears me. Invades my exposed fuckhole. He does not pull back, or ease the pressure. But reaches around my thighs to pluck and tug softly at my nipples. I feel my cunt open to him and know the minute he has curled his fingers into a fist. I want to squeeze hard, to hold his hand in me as he starts to fuck me slowly. There is no muscle control at all. I cannot flex or relax anything. Master controls even that. I wish that I could see his wrist buried in me. The fine, dark hairs pressed to my bare cunt. When he pulls his fist out again and punches forward I feel wet fluid pouring from me. Sweet god I can't tell if I have cum or peed. I feel too good to be mortified at the puddle forming beneath my ass.

Your fist is pounding now, hard and sharp. Punching my womb and sending pain radiating through me. I am frantic to get my hands out of the tape, to shove the gag from my mouth and beg for mercy, to wiggle away from the assault. I cannot see through the red haze of pain. This time I know I have cum, as my cunt spasms in pitiful little movements that have no effect on Master at all. He is fucking me with his meaty fist and pinching now and again the sore stripes from the fly swatter. When the fist is abruptly pulled from me, I scream deep in my throat. My cunt feels like it must be gaping open, empty, bruised. I cannot even gather a mental objection as the cup scrapes again. Cleaning fluid from my cunt, my raised asscheeks, the sheet beneath me. I know that before the day is over I will drink from that cup, probably beg to drink from it and thank Master prettily when I am done.

The tape is removed from my arms, and you help from the bed. I am hopeful that you will remove the ball from my mouth, but you only direct me to assume my position. I do: kneeling, thighs wide, hands behind my head, face pressed to the floor, thrusting my ass out obscenely. I wish I knew what you were doing. When you call, "Come, slave," I scramble onto the bed. I wait patiently while you take the tape off and happily spit out the ball when you tell me to do so. My jaws ache, it is good when you tell me to lick you cock and balls. It seems unlikely that I could take you in my mouth right now. Lapping softly, humming to myself. You have a beautiful cock, Master. Burying my nose against you and inhaling deeply. It feels good to breathe easily and your smell is so erotic. My hands knead and stroke your hips, thighs. Scooting under your ass to cup and hold your cheeks. I can taste my cunt juice on you, too. Your breathing is so even and deep, I wonder if you are sleeping. You must not be, because when I leave off licking and kissing you to take your flaccid cock into my mouth, I am cuffed sharply on the head. Without protest I go back to stroking you with my tongue: bathing you like a mama cat. I want to snake my tongue across your asshole. Again when I move from your balls and cock, you hit the side of my head. Not hard, but I won't indulge myself any more. Singing a soft lullaby in my mind I lick until my mouth is dry and my neck aches. You murmur soft encouragements now and then. Telling me it feels good and patting the crown of my head. Your cock stays in that fascinating in-between place... not quite hard, but aroused. Nothing I do coaxes a full erection from you. I think that maybe you are sleeping again. Finally you send me to the restroom to take care of my needs and have a glass of water.

I move quickly, and do not try to shut the door, although I would have preferred it. When I return you toss four strips of leather to me. "Wrists and ankles." I sit and start at it. The leather is soft and feels good on my skin. I am slow at buckling because my hands are shaking. You squat and help me with the last one on my right wrist. I cannot seem to get it. And then draw me up to a standing position. Your cock is stirring again and I am reprimanded for staring at it. My gaze slides away reluctantly. I like your body and watching you tugs and pulls at my secret places, arousing me so, Master. You turn me and draw my arms behind me. My wrists are attached together and then you wrap a fifth strap around my throat. It is not too tight, but I will not forget it is in place, Master. Your finger slides beneath it and you pull me to the side of the bed. "Down, slave." I kneel quickly and you press me forward until my face rests in the pillow laid there. The same blunt object as before is pressed into my cunt. It goes easier now and I welcome the mild pain it brings. I try not to tense as you slide another object into my ass. It is a plug, and not a very large one. I am glad because the two items together are intense. I know I am blushing when I cannot keep the plug in. You pop my ass mildly and replace it once. The second time your hand holds it tightly to me and I hear tape torn from a roll. The cool tape is pressed to my ass and holds the toy securely. I am grateful, that I do not have to strain to keep the plug in now.

At your next words, I stretch my legs out from under me. Moving slow and awkwardly, very conscious of my full ass and cunt. I wish my arms were secured a little more loosely now, they hurt around the rotator cuff already. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Before long my ankles are somehow connected and drawn up towards my arms. What was a mild sensation in my cunt and ass; intensifies in this new position. This is not comfortable at all. Two hands set my chin on the pillow, face straight ahead. Soft fabric covers my eyes. You are careful not to get my hair caught in the knot you tie. When you ask, I tell you that I cannot see anything. Pressing something into my mouth again. I fight a bit, my jaws ache and I am so helpless now. You are persistent and in the end, I grudgingly accept the object in my mouth. I take a few deep breaths through my nose and experiment with swallowing, as you tighten something behind me and raise my legs a little higher. The pillow is more of a hindrance than a help. If I relax too much my chin slides deep into it, and fabric obstructs my nose. I wonder if you know this. I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek. You reposition me wordlessly, patiently; with my chin in the pillow, face straight ahead. I feel like a small child, frightened a bit and forced to trust my Master to keep me safe. "Now, slut it is time for a nap." I hold very still and listen. Your body is settling on the bed, I can hear you shifting around and then unbelievably it is quiet. You really expect me to stay in this position. I can hardly believe it.

I can hear your breathing, the sound of traffic outside, the squeaky wheel of a housekeeping cart and some off-key lyrics sung, no doubt, by a cleaning woman. Each time I relax my neck the pillow fills my nose. I wonder if you are watching, if you can see me struggle. I am so frustrated that I have no way to move the pillow from under me. And I wonder how the hell I will let you know when I am too tired to hold my head above the fabric any more. Did you intend this when you put it there... I thought you were being thoughtful. I am sure that very little time has passed, it has already been too long for me. My arms are the worst. I can shift a little to one side or another and ease the burning, but it never really goes away. I count slowly in my mind to ten, and then backwards to one again. Each time I reach one, I allow myself to shift something, to swallow, to take a few deeper breaths... and then I settle in to count again. I know you can last much longer at this game than I can, Master.

I hope you are not really asleep. I can't have been on the floor very long, when my head lolls forward again. I carefully turn it to one side and experiment with breathing. Ah, yes, that hurts my arm more, but I can breathe just fine and it eases my neck a bit. Breathing has become very important now. I focus on control, not too deep or I start to feel panicky. No longer sure that you would respond if I tried to communicate my distress somehow. Maybe that pillow was purposeful; Master is not the type to miss a detail like that. Maybe you like watching me struggle. I wonder if you would let me pass out before helping me. I wonder if I could stand that without going mad. A tug on my scalp sets my head back where you wanted it. Well, I think, if not watching constantly... certainly checking off and on.

The waiting is unbearable. Except that implies I have a choice. I don't, at least about the waiting. I shift a few times more and start counting again. Comforting myself with the rhythm in my head. A few times soft noises escape. Usually when I get to 'one' again. "Slave, you are too noisy." Funny, I can sense that you are not looking at me when you talk. "Are you comfortable?" ha! Is that a trick question? I shake my head no sharply. I feel your toes against my waist when you make adjustments that allow me to lower my legs. I want to yell at you, arms, asshole! arms. I work a few squeaky sounds out, hoping you will attend to my pillow. Your answer is several strong blows from your open palm on my ass. Holy Moses that hurts. A broad strap is settled in my hands. I am holding my own legs up now. Well, damn that is diabolical. But you do nothing that eases my breathing. I hear you settling again into the bed. "I want you to think about your place, slut. And quit trying to get my attention. It is nap time." I nod yes even though you may not see. My arms are in agony now and my ass cheeks sting. I think a minute about the sensation of your open palm so hard on me. With my cunt and ass stuffed I thought I might cum by the third or fourth blow. I wonder if I will tell you that later, or keep it as my own secret. Damn, damn, damn we never discussed this and I wish you would amuse yourself some other way. When the only sound from above me is steady breathing and my neck is cramping from holding my chin up, I start to cry. Not big gasps. I can't afford to breathe that way. Just silent tears, absorbed by the soft covering wrapped over my eyes. I sing in my head the longest song I know. Each time I reach the chorus and the highwayman comes riding-- I remind myself that I am yours. Master's. Your slave, your slut, your dog, your silly bitch trussed up and lying on the floor. And if that is where you put me, then it is where I belong. When the English look to the priming and Bess can see hell through one dark window I am no longer crying or angry. My breathing is unhurried. By the time the highwayman shrieks curses to the skies I am ashamed of my impatience, and resolved to wait with a good attitude, however long that is. I no longer mind the burn in my shoulders, because Master put it there. My head has fallen into the pillow a few times and I hover at the edge of sleep.