Apr

It had been another good weekend, although it felt very short to her. But then, it always did. No matter how much they crammed into a few days, the adrenaline of it kept her going until she got home and crashed.

This time they met in a southeastern coastal city where Spring had already sprung, staying in a hotel converted from an antebellum townhouse. He had flown in; she had driven -- her trip enlivened by the instructions he'd given her to wear a short skirt and her anal plug, and to stop and edge for him once every hour while she was enroute. Preferably at a truck stop.

She'd managed to find two. Walking through the parking lot in her short, clingy skirt and heels had been...interesting. Wearing that plug made her walk differently, she knew. Somehow her hips rolled more, was more inviting. She could feel eyes on her. It didn't take her long at those stops to edge.

As always, having an orgasm was strictly forbidden without permission. And although she'd texted him pics and begged for that permission, she would have been surprised if he'd granted it.

She thought about their dynamic during the drive. She'd grown used to his control. She nestled into it like a kitten in a blanket. It felt like a safe base from which to make those explorations into the world of dominance and submission. A starting point. And look how far she'd already come, she thought with a kind of amazement.

There had been no hiccups this month, no punishments needed for straying from his rules. Which isn't to say that he didn't push her boundaries. Wearing her plug to work, edging herself in public places, doing her housework while wearing nipple clamps, going shopping with a cock gag in her mouth hidden by a mask...it had all been an exhilarating ride that was only enhanced when she had to tell him about it afterwards, answering his humiliating questions at length, affirming what a little slut she was. His slut. Something that aroused her with desperate ferocity.

Those tasks he'd given her had a basis in the list she'd prepared for him when they were last together. But so far, he had only played around the outline of the things she had included on it. She'd had a sense that was about to change.

And she was right. As soon as she'd arrived and undressed for his inspection, he'd put her in her cuffs and the heavy collar he kept for her. Those tokens that somehow quieted the random noise and questions in her mind. He told her that she'd be spending a lot of time on her knees, serving him, over the weekend. Pulling her against him, he growled in her ear. "How wet does that make you, my needy little whore?"

She gave him an impish look, something she never would have done a few months ago. Sliding her eyes down, she replied demurely, "You know I'm dripping, Sir. You already checked."

That earned her a rough pinch on each nipple. He held onto them, and the steadily increasing pressure of his fingers made her move forward involuntarily. She took advantage of her proximity by rubbing herself shamelessly against his cock until he swore lightly under his breath, released her nipples, then roughly kissed her, bruising her soft lips.

He made good on his promise almost immediately. She found herself on her knees, his hard cock thrust down her throat. She felt the thrill of his possession when he pulled out and came on her face, ordering her to leave it there. Marking her as his. She must have moaned her delight, because when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with that slight grin that didn't quite match the intensity in his eyes. "Someone's a little horny," he said. "Did you enjoy following your instructions? Edging for me in truck stops like the slut you are?"

She nodded, sinking into that feeling of submissiveness he was so good at teasing out of her. Especially when she was on her knees in front of him with his come dripping down her face and onto her chest. "Yes, Sir. Your slut enjoyed it."

"Good girl. And I enjoyed your begging and the photos of your desperate, dripping pussy." He paused for a moment, threading one hand through her hair and tugging on it. Then he said, "You're still wearing your plug, I see. Are you hoping I'll fuck you long and hard there, use you like the toy you are?"

She blushed; she couldn't help it. Waves of arousal shot through her with every word he said. "Please, Sir...," she said, knowing it was too soon to start begging but unable to stop herself. "Please. I'm so...desperate. I haven't come since...since Sunday, Sir."

He chuckled. "Tell me, little one. Tell me just how desperate you are. Tell me how you twist and turn in bed at night when you're edging yourself, dripping on your sheets, grinding your needy pussy on your pillow. How you have to stop, panting, before you take it too far. Because you're an obedient little slut. Aren't you?"

She whimpered slightly and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I'm your obedient little slut."

"If you're that close all the time, maybe I should deny you permission even to touch."

At her desperate moan, he chuckled again, then he studied her for a moment. As if making a decision, he nodded and reached down to loop his finger through the ring on her collar, forcing her to hands and knees as she followed closely beside him. He guided her toward the small loveseat in the window alcove of the room. Drawing aside the sheer curtain that afforded the room some privacy, he sat down, tugging her in front of him then releasing his hold on her.

She trembled slightly; she had a good idea where this was headed. It was an item from the list she'd written out for him: to be made to play with herself at a window where others could see her while he watched and directed her. He noted her dawning understanding with pleasure. Her reactions, when doing something like this -- something she wanted but found too humiliating to admit it -- were one of the things he enjoyed most about her. He loved watching her slip from embarrassment into sheer mindless arousal.

Her eyes were on his, pleading silently, as he said, "You were just begging me to let you touch yourself, pet. I've decided to grant your request. Now crawl up close to the window and face it. Closer. I want you almost touching the glass. Then lift up on your knees, as tall as you can." He waited while she positioned herself.

"That's it," he said. "You may edge for me. Rub yourself. Open those pussy lips and tease your needy clit. If anyone should look up, make sure they can see what a little whore you are -- unable to keep your hands off yourself."

She made a little sound of acknowledgement, her eyes darting quickly out the window and down. Just one glance, then she closed her eyes, not wanting to see more. Hoping no one would notice the slut in the window. She put her hands between her legs and spread herself wide, feeling her pussy twitch and become wetter even before she started to play with herself.

It was only mid-afternoon and still light outside, so he knew the chances of anyone being able to see anything more than her outline were slim. But she didn't need to know that. She was already lost in it, in the idea of being his possession, being under his control, obeying his commands. His lips curved in pleasure at the slight sway and arch of her body. He could tell when she'd stopped thinking about being seen and was focused only on her own need, her fingers slick with it.

He remained silent, watching her. In another couple of minutes she whimpered and said in a breathy voice, "Sir, I'm at the edge. May I...may I have permission to come?"

As if I wasn't keenly aware of her every twitch and movement, he said, "Oh, you're there already? Poor fucktoy, you really must be hard up." He paused, deliberately ignoring her request until he could see her hips slowly start to move on her fingers again. Then he stood and crossed the small space to stand behind her. Gripping the window frame with one hand, he used his knee to push her forward so that her body was pressed against the glass.

"Rub your pussy against the glass, pet," he murmured. "Let everyone see your slutty arousal spread on the glass."

She made a helpless little moan at his words, but she still hesitated for a moment. He pressed harder with his knee and watched her sink into submission, following his command. Wanting to drive her further, he reached down and toyed with the plug she still wore, pushing it farther inside her.

Her body tensed and froze. Desperately she cried out, "Sir...I can't stand it. I'm going to...please, let me come!"

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her quickly to her feet. "No. You will not come. Not without permission. Hold it back, slut. Obey me."

She struggled mightily, fighting down the almost irresistible urge to tumble off the edge and come. Her eyes tightly closed, nails digging into her palms, she shuddered. After a long moment the overpowering feeling retreated, and she relaxed. But only slightly. Her breathing still rasped out of her. A single touch anywhere might still break her resolve.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there. At some point his hands on her shoulders changed from a commanding grasp to a light, reassuring kneading. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled at her and released her slowly, his hands sliding down her arms, his fingers uncurling her fists and running over the deep indentations her nails had left in her palms.

He pulled her closer. His voice growled low against her ear. "Tell me. How did it feel, grinding your pussy against the window? Tell me what you are."

Her whole body shook with need. "Sir...you know I love being your filthy whore. Your needy little slut. And the thought of someone seeing me made me frantic. Please...I need to come so badly."

His hands stroked down her back, kneaded her ass. Then he released her, once again ignoring her request. "Let's go take a shower. I have something planned for us this evening. Something you'll enjoy."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, not sure how to read him. Did he have a further humiliation in mind, or did he really have something enjoyable planned for them? It would be pointless to ask him for details. She'd find out in due course.

Later, she smiled in amazed delight as he led her into the small performance hall. They'd eaten a casual dinner on the terrace of a restaurant facing the ocean, catching up with each other. After, he'd reached for her arm and guided her along the narrow streets until they reached this place. He'd tendered their tickets, and they were directed to enter.

The space had been transformed into a room from an Eastern palace, with a low dais draped in oriental carpets and pillows. Sweet-smelling garlands of flowers decorated the corners. Folding chairs were set up on three sides. In front of the chairs was another scattering of pillows for seating. They were invited to remove their shoes and find a place to sit. He nudged her toward the front, and she knew what he had in mind. Trying not to look self-conscious, she followed him down the short aisle and then sat on a cushion, folding her legs under her, while he sat on a chair just behind.

He leaned over and explained that tonight's event was a concert of Hindustani music, including some renowned artists. Music was an interest they both shared, and she had only recently become interested in Indian music. Her eyes shone up at him in appreciation. "This is wonderful. Thank you, Sir," she breathed.

His hand casually circled her neck as he leaned closer. "I'm glad you like it, little one. I'll expect you to keep your composure and enjoy the music...no matter what else is happening."

She felt a little quiver pass through her at the unmistakable erotic threat. Her mind pictured how, after their shower earlier, he had leaned her over the bathroom counter and inserted a new toy in her ass. One with a remote-controlled vibrator. He hadn't used it during dinner, giving her a break and affording them a chance to talk. But she suspected that her temporary respite was over.

She squirmed slightly, feeling the rope she wore around her waist and between her legs. He'd told her to wear it as well, wanting to keep her teased and never too far from that edge. Wrapped in his control.

"Be still," he warned her as the lights were lowered and the players came onto the dais and settled themselves. The music started quietly in a way that was almost meditative. Before long, those in the audience were swaying under its spell, necks tilting and hands moving with the flow of it.

She felt the vibrator start. Low and hypnotic, like the music, it became just another part of the sensory overload. As the music gradually grew in intensity, so did the vibrations. She reached a hand back and clutched at the hem of his pants, a small plea for mercy that went unanswered.

The room had perfect acoustics. By the end of the first half of the program, the vocalists' voices were skittering up and down the scale, improvising wildly within the framework of the music. She felt the wild energy internally as well, shifting her body uneasily in response despite his warning to remain still and keep her composure.

There was a brief intermission. Just in time, she thought thankfully. He helped her stand, and they walked closer to the stage to look at the instruments. His hand went around her back and slipped under her waistband, locating the rope that encircled her. His casual tug on it made her muffle a gasp, as a wave of arousal and need rocketed through her. Bringing his mouth close to her ear again, he said, "Perhaps we should step onto the stage. I could pluck you like an instrument, let everyone listen to your needy little sounds while I torture your clit."

She shifted against him, breathed out a reply, "Please...no, Sir. Not here. I'll be...good." He nodded and released the rope, though his arm remained around her to counter her unsteady legs. Soon enough they sat again and enjoyed the second half of the performance, despite the vibrator inside her steadily escalating its rhythm. She remained still, slowly becoming convinced that not being able to move only made the aching inside worse.

When the performance ended after several curtain calls, he helped her to her feet and they exited the venue. If anything her walk was even less steady. The new plug not only continued to vibrate, it also felt larger -- especially when she had to walk more than a few steps.

Before they headed out for the walk back to the hotel, she cast a longing look at the ladies' room. He shook his head and steered her outside. She sighed and tried to keep up, even though he was setting a pace she wasn't comfortable with. The toy inside her moved and shifted as she walked, making her clench it involuntarily, then gasp at the effect.

She felt more than heard Sir's low chuckle. "Does that feel good, little slut?" She wanted to glare at him, but was afraid of what that might prompt him to do. Instead she just kept walking, clutching his arm and fighting hard to control the urges sweeping through her. God, if all these people weren't around, she'd...she'd grind herself against one of those antique gaslight poles until she came like a mindless whore.

They made it back to the hotel, albeit at a significantly slower speed. She could tell that he was enjoying her reactions. How her eyes slowly glazed, how she bit her lip in concentration and leaned on him more and more, trying not to come. At one point she actually had to stop in her tracks, her fingers tightening convulsively on his forearm as she whispered, "Please...I can't..."

He watched her efforts to keep it together, half hoping she would fail so he could punish her. He considered increasing the vibrator speed but decided it would be unfair.

At the hotel, instead of heading back to their room, he pushed the elevator button for the rooftop terrace, telling her he wanted to have a drink and to enjoy the lovely view. The space wasn't crowded; there were only a handful of others scattered about. He steered her to a low-slung outdoor couch facing the water, settling her so close beside him that he could feel her jolt and indrawn breath when she sat down on the plug. He stifled his grin and asked her solicitously what she'd like to drink.

After they'd been served, he put an arm around her, keeping the cool evening breeze at bay. His fingers toyed with the buttons on her blouse, undoing a couple of them and teasing one finger around the edges of her lacy bra cups as she relaxed against him. She felt the vibrations ramp up again and sighed -- not unhappily. She'd slipped with barely a ripple into that mindset where nothing existed except her need and his control.

"Take off your bra," his voice insinuated itself into her thoughts. The words woke her from her haze. She became aware of where they were, and she looked around anxiously. She didn't

think

anyone could see them, but...

He pinched the tender skin of her breast at her hesitation. "Go on. Take it off. Another hesitation will earn you a punishment later."

Slowly and cautiously she inched her arms behind her, unhooking the bra. Then she slid the straps down her arms, finally pulling the scrap of material out through her sleeve and shoving it under her hip to hide it. Her shyness was intoxicating -- up to a point. But he wanted more from her tonight. He reached for the bra and folded it, then set it on the table beside their drinks. The color in her cheeks grew.

Angling her toward him, he undid another button, reaching inside her gauzy blouse to grasp her breast firmly. She gave a tiny squeak of surprise as he kneaded it, then ran a fingernail over her stiffening nipple.

"Such an eager little slut for my touch, aren't you, pet? Put your hands under those tits. Hold them up for me."

Soundlessly she complied. When he saw her eyes darting around nervously, he ordered her to keep them lowered, to watch his hands as he continued playing with her breasts. When she arched toward him, he pinched her and commented, "Your nipples are so hard. My little slut likes this." Her eyes closed, but she nodded her agreement.

"Tell me. Tell me how much you enjoy being on display, like a dirty whore, for your master." His voice was low but insistent.

Without looking up, she murmured, "I-I love being displayed like this, Sir. I'm just your possession, your property. Yours to use..." her voice trailed off with a little sigh.

After a bit he picked up his drink and took a long sip, watching her with satisfaction. Her body trembled finely, including her breasts. As if he was merely giving her a casual caress, he reached out a hand and parted her blouse to frame her naked breasts, pale in the dim moonlight.

She lifted her eyes to his, startled. She stared at him in agonized humiliation and arousal as he continued to watch her without talking, sipping his drink from time to time. She didn't know how long they sat there, but the breeze off the water became chilly. She hardly noticed it, she was simply a ball of need, her muscles and nerves and swollen tissues all begging silently for release.

Finally he led her back to their room, after allowing her to tuck her breasts back inside her blouse -- but not to button it or put her bra back on. She was relieved that they didn't encounter anyone else using the elevator.

Once in the hotel room, he gagged her and bent her over the bed, making her wait like that while he checked his emails and then slowly undressed. She couldn't stop herself from writhing against the sheets, grinding her pussy on the mattress while he showered, seeking relief from her torment. She was almost desperate enough to touch herself and risk his punishment, but she couldn't quite bring herself to disobey.

When he came to her, warm and clean and slightly damp from the shower, he lifted her hips up with his hands and slid his cock into her slick pussy with a low groan, fucking her hard while she still wore her plug. She felt stretched to the limit. Screaming into her gag, she came so many times that they both lost count, the last time after he'd come forcefully inside her, then pulled out and finished, jetting his cum on her spread thighs.