tricia's mouth opened, soft and inviting, with full lips made for kissing it seemed. Instantly she tasted the pepper coating the thick slab of leather was thick enough that the soft roof of her mouth also burned. Even her cheeks, which she tried to puff out to spare them the spiky crisp pain, were torched. Master was gentle, though she deserved for Him to be coarse, but when He secured the gag, He tugged and yanked, forcing her to fight the urge to try and spit it out.
The gag filled her mouth with its stinging torment, and kept it open just enough so her jaw wouldn't cramp right away. she didn't want to swallow, for the tip of the gag's tongue touched the back of her palate, and if she did she felt the flutter in the back her throat, tugging at her stomach.
she had to swallow, her mouth watered, flooded in fact, but her saliva did nothing to quench the fire. she imagined the soft tissues of her mouth blistering and charring from the pepper's fluids. Finally, she swallowed, the juice flaming down her throat like little razors, and she choked, tears squirting from her eyes. she coughed, gagging through the leather. tricia tried to clear her throat, and chomped down on it, whimpering to her Master.
He ignored her, tugging her hair, freeing it from the gag's cords, and smoothing it out, combing her long, brown hair with a wide, flat brush, until He stepped back, looking her over.
tricia was forced to swallow again, and a fresh flood of tears ran down her face. Although she was being punished, Master wanted a pretty picture, and tricia did her very best to please His eye. she tried, but the venom in her mouth made her wince; the heat so great all she could think of was tearing the gag from her face, and spit and retch upon the floor to get the vile stuff from her mouth.
she shook, fighting the urge, though it would have been futile in any case. Master had bound her arms behind her back, tying her forearms together, and wound rope about her upper arms, circling her breasts in a figure-eight, hugging them together. she clawed her elbows, and an itch crawled over her nose as it started to run. tricia's shame grew; seeing herself in her mind's eye: her eyes puffy, red, and watering; cheeks flushed; nose running swiftly; drool glistening at the corners of her mouth. her Master didn't have a pretty slave to look at, and she was a naughty slave too, tricia thought, hanging her head. This was part of it, she realized, knowing that He was seeing her not at her best, but ragged and ugly.
she cried openly as Master chuckled. A heavy blush blazed over her face, hothot enough to match the fire in her mouth. she coughed behind the gag and shivered as the itch in her nose worsened. Master, Your slave is so sorry! she wanted to shout, to fall to her knees -- no, to her belly -- and kiss His feet, kiss every toe and bathe them, using her hair to do so, and beg for His forgiveness. she'd promise to do what He wanted; to do it with grace, poise, and all the love she had for Him. tricia wanted to be a good girl again; it tore at her heart when Master had called her a bad girl, and commanded His bad, ugly cunt to get the rope and the correction gag. she crawled for each item, taking them to Him in her teeth, knowing that she did deserve what was going to happen, and fearing it with each four-legged step.
Now, bound, the correction gag searing her mouth and throat, tricia squirmed. her bare bottom felt hot and her bowels felt loose from the pepper; it was an illusion, like the heat from wine, she told herself, not wanting to imagine the torment she'd receive if anything else went wrong.
"Over my knees, cunt," Master commanded. His voice wasn't the gentle one she was familiar with, it was hard, and cut her like a knife's edge. she started to walk to Him on her knees, rope binding them as well, and pressing painfully into her bones as she moved forward.
Master was up in a flash, and tricia shied from His terrible love. He stood over her and used His foot to push her face to the floor, pushing until she lay on her belly.
"Only slaves -- good slaves -- use their hands and knees, disobedient cunts have to crawl," He growled. "If I see one inch of your worthless hide off that floor, I'm going to oil your asshole and your fuckhole with that cayenne. Then I'm going to clog both your foul openings with the correction plugs, bitch." He went back to His seat. "Do you understand me, you disobedient cunt?"
tricia sobbed into the carpet, His words, His tone like a bladed whip against her soft skin. she nodded, knowing just what the plugs felt like with the hot pepper, and the shocks Master could send through her inner flesh. she nodded, shutting her eyes against the cruel stare of her disappointed Master.
"Are you going to mewl there on the rug, cunt?" He asked, tapping the hairbrush against His knee. "Or are you going to haul your selfish, sorry ass over here?"
tricia moaned, crawling, wriggling to her Master. Each angry word was also one of pain, for she had insulted His love for her, His very gift, and she told herself that this was what bad slaves deserved. The friction against her breasts built as she slithered, pushing herself along with her toes. she would not, absolutely would not have the correction plugs inside her again, and kept herself against the carpet, glued to it in fact. Heat kissed every part of her, and the gag was starting to numb her mouth, but it still boiled in her throat and belly. she stared through the blur and heat growing in her straining muscles, keeping her eyes on her Master's feet. tricia felt like a worm, undulating awkwardly toward Him, desperately hugging the floor. I am a slug beneath His feet, she told herself, unfit to belong to Him, and thus I must crawl like a worm. she didn't cry at this, she was too focused on crawling to cry. Here was her strength, in this humiliation and this torment.
Master glared at her, and ran the flat of the hairbrush over His thigh. He started to tap His fingers over the handle, and tricia bit the leather harder, pushing through the protests of her sore body, and wriggled to His feet. she pressed her forehead to each foot, and awaited a word or a yank of hair. she pushed herself against His legs when He ordered her over His knees. she slithered up, the warmth from His body a marked contrast to the prickling heat of the rugburns on her breasts and knees. Master made no move to help her position herself, and she nearly tumbled from His lap as she struggled. After what felt like an eternity under His withering gaze, tricia dug the tips of her toes into the carpet and presented her rear for Him.
"How many do you think you should get, cunt?"
tricia shook her head wildly, and whimpered. she flinched at the cool touch of the hairbrush on her buttocks.
"I think this is worth more then ten, or twenty, don't you think, cunt?"
tricia started to cry again, pushing her buttocks up against the slowly circling brush. If only He would get it over with. Please, Master, she thought, please.
"you disappointed me, cunt," He said, with soft, deliberate words, the tone making her weak with sorrow.
