She sits, still half dressed in her slip, skirt, and heels, with the flogger lying limp across her thighs. She is stunned at how it came to be lying on her lap in the first place. She knows she needs to get up and make dinner, but she can't stop the scene replaying in her head.
—
She walked into the bedroom, dying to take off her heels and take down her hair. She stewed on the day's last meeting as she pulled off her suit jacket and blouse before stepping in front of the mirror. That's when she saw the key in the lock of his nightstand reflected there. She froze in her lace slip, skirt, and heels, slim arms above her head, gripping the hair pins. She knew the drawers locked—her nightstand drawers did as well, though she'd lost the key and had nothing worth locking up anyway—but she never thought he would lock them.
Her curiosity got the best of her and she walked over to his side of the bed. The key clicked ominously in the barrel as she turned it. Curiosity turned to rage as she pilfered through the drawer: a heavy leather collar with intricate scrollwork, matching wrist cuffs, several objects for which she could not imagine a use, the scent of another woman's perfume, and a heavy leather flogger. She was irrationally drawn to the flogger and rage took her completely: she spent several hysterical minutes mercilessly flogging his pillow.
When her arm was exhausted, she crumpled to the floor in front of his nightstand and something else in the drawer caught her eye through her tears. A photograph of a naked woman was tied on top of a stack of hand-addressed envelopes. The meticulous, elegant writing on each envelope spelled out his name and work address, the postmark indicating that it was mailed recently and from the same zip code as his office building.
Another look at the photo further stirred her rage: a young woman with tousled hair, sumptuously large breasts, and long legs punctuated with red stilettos sat naked, legs slightly spread, on the floor leaning against a wall covered in the same damask wallpaper in the dining room downstairs. She was sure she didn't want to know how this woman came to be naked on her dining room floor but she began reading the letter just under the photograph anyway:
Good evening sir,
Thank you for allowing me to visit you yesterday. The pain of the beautiful marks you left on my ass, legs, and back reminds me of our time together as I write to you. It is my pleasure to perform the task of recording my service to you and the pain thrills me—and will for days—each time I sit down.
Yesterday I arrived at your home at the appointed time and entered through the front door to find you sitting in the dining room. I watched you read on your phone for a moment, devastatingly sexy with your glasses perched on your nose. When you noticed me, I struggled to keep my eyes cast respectfully downward, but just the sight of you there in the morning sunlight watching me made it difficult to keep my eyes off you. My desire was barely controllable, but knowing your expectations of me...the thought of disappointing you brought my thoughts and actions sharply into focus.
My collar lay on the table with, much to my excitement, a new paddle.
I removed my suit jacket and then my skirt and finally my blouse and placed them neatly on the table beside the collar and paddle. I dared to meet your gaze and you summoned me to your side. It had only been a few days, but my skin ached to feel your touch again.
Your fingers felt like fire as you caressed your most recent gift: an intricate silk and lace chemise. I was wet already from the morning's anticipation, but you sent me back to the other side of the table. I finished undressing—except for the stilettos—and knelt in the warmth of the beams of sunlight to present the collar to you.
"Thank you, pet," you said.
And I replied, "The pleasure is mine, sir."
I sighed with renewed pleasure as you buckled the collar around my neck and I moved towards you to remove your belt, but you pushed me away and said, "Go get the paddle."
I complied immediately, kneeling before you again and presenting the paddle, quivering with excitement. But you placed the paddle on the table and motioned for me to lie across your lap. I obeyed immediately. Your hand stung as it hit my right ass cheek.
"Yes, sir."
And then the left.
"Oh! Yes, sir!"
The stinging turned to burning and my words turned to cries as you continued to spank me.
"Get up," you said abruptly and I returned to the floor, kneeling before you. I could feel the heat radiate from my ass cheeks as I waited for you to remove your belt. But, again to my disappointment, you laid the belt on the table and walked into the kitchen. I heard the freezer door open and looked up in confusion.
"Ass up," you said. But I hesitated, still confused, and you forced my face down into the carpet so my ass was in the air. I closed my eyes.
The sensation of the cold glass anal plug against the burning skin on my ass was overwhelming, but the way it felt when you slid it inside my tight asshole made me sigh again with pleasure. You helped me to my feet and I presented myself to you, still consumed by the feeling of the cold plug in my ass.
I was so consumed that I was shocked when you slapped me hard across the face. You did not give me to time to recover before pinching my right nipple and attaching a nipple clamp—to the very tip so it would be more painful. You gave my left breast a firm slap before attaching the other clamp to the tip of my left nipple. I was able to withstand the first clamp, but the second made me gasp in pain. My outcry did not faze you and you slapped my breasts over and over again. I could feel the bruises forming even before you stopped and removed both the clamps at once. The torture of the blood rushing back into my nipples made me weak in the knees. You supported me and then took my nipple in your mouth, gently massaging away the pain. Your tongue teased my nipple and your fingers found my wet cunt and teased my clit. You moved to my other erect nipple, massaging away the pain from the clamps, but then using your teeth to solicit another gasp of, "yes, sir."
You bit my nipples and then my soft breasts before moving up to my collar bone and neck, leaving bright pink marks around my collar and shoulders that would doubtlessly bruise. The pain from the bite marks was exhilarating and when I gasped, "yes sir," yet again, you grabbed my collar and slapped my pussy. You used your grip on my collar to steady me as you struck my swollen pussy again and again.
"Yes, sir," I moaned, "yes, sir, please make me hurt."
"Of course I will, pet. Go to the kitchen and find the larger plug."
You shoved me towards the kitchen and I was barely able to keep my balance. I had a bit of trouble finding the larger plug. You had selected the steel plug, the largest one in our collection and it soaked in a bowl of warm water—not something I was expecting. I stared at it with a mixture of dread and excitement before reaching into the warm liquid.
I was not quick enough, however. You lost patience waiting on me and I found myself forced over the kitchen counter and held there by your strong grip.
"Whore, why are you so slow?" you demanded. But I had no answer and I could only lie pressed into the cold granite and mutter an apology. The frigid countertop sucked the heat from my skin, yet made it more sensitive all at once. From the corner of my eye, I could see that you were only wearing your boxers but your belt was in your other hand. I wanted to reach for you and feel the warmth of your skin next to mine. However, I felt a different warmth as your belt contacted the already burning skin on my ass.
