What She Deserves 2

Never before had she felt so loved. Never before had she felt so humiliated. The combination, it was intoxicating, invigorating, and she wanted more.

As she sat in the hotel room chair, he called her names, names that would cause most women to retaliate if they were called. Whore, bitch, slut, cunt, just to name a few. And the descriptions of how she was each and every one of those things. She sat there and absorbed them. Granted, she was bound, gagged and blindfolded. But even if she hadn't been, she would have sat there. She wanted to take every ounce of humiliation he could give her. She craved it. And she knew he loved her.

She felt the sting of the flogger. It smacked her left breast as she felt him walk behind her. She flinched, but not much. He didn't stop his verbal assault. It just kept coming, one after another. It was breaking her, though, she knew it was coming. It was what she needed. She knew, in order to be the submissive he wanted, the submissive that she truly was inside, she needed to have all sense of pride stripped away. This man, this man she had fallen in love with, this man who she asked to dominate her, he knew best. He knew what she needed and what was the best way to tear away every defense she had and expose her truly naked soul to him. Naked and raw. That is how he wanted her. Naked to him, completely his. And this was his method today, complete and utter humiliation.

When she had first arrived, he had made her stand in front of the window of the hotel where he was staying for the weekend. They were on the 4th floor with a view over the main entrance. All a person had to do was look up as they were entering the building to see her in her black and white polka dotted dress in the window. He stood behind her and kissed her neck and down her shoulders. As he pushed against her body, she supported herself with the window. He unzipped her dress to gain more access to her skin. She closed her eyes in ecstasy as he pinned her arms to her side and let the dress fall to the floor. She blocked out the world, knowing a glance upward would reveal her black lacy bra and the garter belt and stockings he insisted she wear. No panties. He had been very clear. He kissed down her back, releasing her arms so she could support herself again against the window. He unhooked her bra, and continued down her back. He knelt behind her and took her cheeks in hand, massaging and rubbing them as he peppered them with kisses. She moaned, reveling in the softness of the moment. She didn't know what was coming, that wasn't her place or her concern, she just tried to take in every moment as it came and embraced it.

His hands felt so good on her skin. Eyes closed, she moaned. He spread her ass cheeks. With his finger, he traced the line between them. He paused slightly at each of her holes, but did not invade either one. Then slowly he stood and turned her around. She opened her eyes to see him, his form towering over her. The look in his eyes took her breath away.

She immediately looked down, but he caught her chin with his finger and raised her face. With that look in his eyes, he could make her do anything. He looked at her intently for what seemed like an eternity, but was only a moment. Then he kissed her. No, devoured her is better. His mouth enveloped hers and as her tongue touched his, she was instantaneously reminded why she was his, why she had given herself to this man. He was a passionate kisser, capable of erasing the memory of everything in the world, but him.

She felt herself melt into him, and the tears began to flow from her eyes. Tears of frustrations and stresses, from responsibilities and obligations. All those things were melting away. It was magical.

He pulled away, and turned from her. She stood there, exposed. The feelings most women would have, embarrassment, self consciousness, uncertainty, she had none of that. She knew nothing of what was to come, but she trusted him implicitly. She let her mind go blank. 'Just be,' she told herself. She stopped crying. And there she stood.

He returned with a chair. He sat it in front of the window. With the most gentlemanly of gestures, he motioned for her to sit. She did, but in order to, she needed to spread her legs. Her naked pussy was now on full display for anyone to see. He stroked her hair and told her she was a good girl, then finished removing her bra. He knelt beside her and tied her ankle to the chair. Then he repeated it on the other side. As she watched his firm and gentle moves, her breathing increased, and she felt her pussy dampen.

When he was done with her legs, he tied her hands behind her. By the time he was done, she was panting. He stood to the side of her, looking down on her heaving breasts and smiled. Without a word, he held up the ball gag. She took a sharp breath inward as he stepped behind her and secured it.

Then again he was gone. She knew better than to look around. She looked out the window. The sky was blue, and there was a bird sitting on a wire. It appeared to see her there, exposed in the window. It cocked its head to the side, as if contemplating her situation. Then it flew away. She thought briefly of the freedom of a bird. The freedom to fly where they want, to float on the breeze and let it carry them, if that is their whim. No responsibilities, no deadlines, no worries. She felt that now, freedom. Here there was nothing to decide or do, aside from exactly what she was told. She was floating on the breeze, going wherever the whim of her Dom took her. Freedom.

He was back. He whispered in her ear, "My love, this is everything you deserve." And with that, the room went dark as something was placed over her eyes. A blindfold. Now, she couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't see. She was completely at his mercy.

Then it started. The insults and the names. The first ones stung, they hit the heart of every insecurity she had ever had about herself. The ones she had tried to hide from the world, he exposed. The ones she had tried to overcome, he used against her. The deepest, darkest moments of her life, he knew. For a few moments, she tried to stay strong, to let them roll off her. But the onslaught was too much, one after the other, it was a carefully prepared recitation of proportions she wasn't prepared for.

The first stroke of the flogger hit her pussy. In that moment, the pain of the strike, the verbal abuse, and the realization that she was on full display at the window came crashing upon her. She hung her head and the tears flowed.

He grabbed the back of her head and raised it. "Be proud slut, proud of the fucking whore you are. Proud to be mine and on display." He continued. The abuse rained down on her along with licks of the flogger. She couldn't decide what was more painful, but she didn't need to. The tears continued to flow as she embraced every word and every strike. After a time, she felt it inside her, she felt it break and then, although the assault continued, it was numb. There were no more tears, there was no more pain. She was nothing.

At this point she was as naked as she had ever been. Her pride was gone. Any sense of importance had disappeared. And if she had ever had any sense of self worth, it was completely gone. She was stripped of everything and exposed to him at the rawest, deepest level.

He must have sensed or knew she had reached the point he wanted her. He was gone again. It didn't matter. Time was an illusion. Did she sit there a minute? Two? Ten? It didn't matter. Her arms were released, her legs were next. Then he helped her from the chair and removed the blindfold. His eyes were kind, as he kissed her forehead and removed the ball gag. She was weak, and her face stained with tears.

Taking her hand he lead her to the bed and laid her down. Then, going to the bathroom, he returned with a warm washcloth and washed her face. He removed his clothes and climbed into the bed next to her wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair.

As her energy returned, he began to explore her body again with his hands. Her breasts, her ass, her face. She moaned. He slid his hand between her legs to find what he knew would be there. His little slut, his plaything, was wet. Not just wet, soaking wet. But he knew she would be, he had seen the puddle when she stood. She had been turned on by the humiliation she had just been through.

He rolled her on her back and she felt how hard he was against her thigh. In her neediness, she moaned and begged, "Please, please...fuck me..."

He smiled and gently kisses her lips, so soft, so tender, and then, with the force of a steam locomotive, plowed his hard cock in her wet, waiting pussy.