Year in the Life of a Slut Ch. 04: Mar

(This is the fourth in a series of vignettes about a D/s couple's long-distance relationship and how it evolves over the course of a year. It would be helpful, but not necessary, to read them in order.)

"Paying attention to the little things is important, slut. Consider this a warning."

She was driving home from work, thinking about Sir's earlier text. She was of two minds about it. Part of her -- the part that still had her head in her everyday world, the job where she had a position of authority -- felt irritated. What the hell? He was the one who had told her that this was for fun, that she took things too seriously. And now -- this? She frowned and pushed her foot down on the gas pedal, accelerating a little faster than she should onto the freeway.

On the other hand, her apparently hardwired submissive brain was busy cataloging her missteps and oversights. He hadn't given her that many rules, although a few more had been added as their dynamic progressed. And she was usually very good about obeying them. A good girl to the core. But if pressed, she couldn't deny that recently there had been a little falling off.

They hadn't been together physically in over a month. In the time between, due to their schedules, communication during the week was often reduced to texts and emails. Not ideal, she thought wryly. She needed to see his face, hear his voice, to keep that connection strong, keep the leash firmly in his hand.

She pursed her lips. So, what were the little things she'd been lax about? Well... there was the day she had forgotten to take her pants off and keep her remote vibrator handy while she worked from home, one of Sir's rules. He occasionally liked to surprise her with some remote play. Mmm, those were fun days. But on that day, she'd forgotten the rule, had put on her jeans. And when he checked in with her later in the day, she'd told him. He was annoyed but she got off with a warning... and his refusal to play with her. Which she had regretted intensely.

Also, she had fallen behind on publishing the stories that she wrote for an erotic fiction website, loosely based on their encounters. Sir had nudged her several times about it. She excused herself, knowing it wasn't a strict rule she was violating. She really had been busy lately. But it was clearly his wish, and it niggled at her conscience that she hadn't done it.

Then there was the time she hadn't sent him the picture he required daily: posed submissively, wearing only her underwear. It had been a Sunday, and she'd felt like lazing about, which she had brazenly said in her email with her usual report and daily schedule. He'd given her a verbal check, and when she jokingly mentioned punishment, had asked whether she thought she deserved it.

The question had thrown her off stride. She was new to the world of Dom/sub relationships. Shouldn't it be up to him to decide if and when she was due a punishment? Several times when they'd been together, he'd punished her for small things. Nothing too significant... but he certainly hadn't asked her opinion about it.

And now, a cryptic text. This evening they were scheduled to talk and perhaps... she hoped... play on webcam. Something she'd been looking forward to. So then, why had she agreed to put in a quick appearance at a colleague's after-work birthday party before heading home? It's not like she hadn't let Sir know -- she'd texted him promptly to tell him she might be running late. She wasn't sure how long she'd stay, and traffic was, as always, unpredictable.

His reply, such as it was, had a somewhat ominous tone. Like the edge of a keenly sharpened axe, it split her neatly into two halves. One argued that it was just a reminder. The other was quaking in her boots.

She shook her head, feeling a little bewildered as her two sides clashed. Why had she said she'd drop by this party? The woman wasn't even part of the group she considered her work friends. And hadn't she just admitted how much she wanted -- needed -- to connect with Sir? She just didn't like turning anyone down.

No, that was a cop-out. She felt a tightening at the back of her neck, just where Sir would squeeze her to restrain her or guide her position. It wouldn't have given her a single qualm to say no. But she was here now -- already in the parking lot -- so she might as well go in and stay, just for a few minutes.

She didn't enjoy it. Her mind continued to needle her, piling on the guilt. She had asked him for more control a few months ago, but he had only recently begun to grant her request. She'd felt so pleased that he thought she was ready. She wanted that control, loved it, felt a kind of contentment that was almost addictive after doing something for him. And when he praised her, she felt like it was her birthday.

After only a few minutes, once "Happy Birthday" had been sung and she'd wished the honoree well, she tried to extricate herself. If she left promptly, she could still be on time. She nearly snapped at a friend who urged her to stay for a slice of cake.

But of course, she had tempted fate, waited too long. Rush hour traffic was in full spate. She'd never make it. She sighed and used her hands-free set-up to text Sir. She was basically at a standstill on the freeway, and no one was moving ahead of her. By now she felt a little shaky. Her feeling of apprehension escalated as minutes ticked by and she didn't receive any reply.

Feverishly she thought of all the things she had done. Tasks completed, photos sent, stories written. That counted for something, right?

Not in this world, her inner submissive voice answered. In this world, obedience was expected. Leniency might occasionally be given, but it couldn't be requested. It was Sir's prerogative.

She squirmed in her seat as guilt permeated her. She tried to think logically, but she was too anxious. There was something... some thought... if she could just catch hold of it. Instead, she veered from heaping blame on herself to wondering abjectly if Sir even cared or noticed, since he hadn't responded.

Finally, she heard the tone alerting her to his texts. The screen read only, "Text me once you are home." It didn't do a thing to relieve her anxiety.

She put on some calming music to quiet her noisy thoughts. It helped; her breathing slowed down and she could think again. Damn it, why was this happening now, when he was going to be visiting her this weekend? Tonight's chat was to finalize their plans. Was he going to be angry with her when they were together? Would he be so annoyed that he'd cancel altogether? She almost sobbed in frustration, feeling terrible about what she'd carelessly done.

Suddenly things clicked and she understood why Sir had asked her, on that previous occasion, if she thought she deserved a punishment. It was something she'd heard about from other submissives, but it was the first time she had experienced it. That feeling... that need for punishment, because punishment led to forgiveness. It cleaned the slate between dom and submissive. She got it, in a visceral way; got why a submissive would ask for a punishment, and why a dom would assess the need for one. Not just to instill obedience, but to... to.... She couldn't quite complete the thought.

Just then, traffic started to move. She reminded herself to stay cool and drive safely, even though she wanted to race home. What was done was done. And she had a request to formulate.

Once at her condo, she headed to her laptop. She'd had time enough to compose her email to Sir during the remainder of her drive. In it, she enumerated her offenses and requested his punishment. When she hit Send, her shoulders slumped in relief. She didn't even wonder why she immediately felt better.

His response was swift. "I'm pleased you recognize the need for punishment, little one," his email said. "You've been testing me. Testing our relationship. It's not unusual in a new dynamic and we'll deal with that when I arrive. Until then, you may touch yourself, but you do not have permission to come. Failure to obey me in this will make your punishment far worse."

The flood of relief she felt when he confirmed that he was still planning to visit was checked in rapid succession by his order. She read it again, felt her thigh muscles tighten. Those few words immediately made her feel like his possession, tugged back into her rightful place.

She sucked in a breath and calculated -- today was Wednesday, and Sir wasn't scheduled to arrive until Saturday morning. And if she knew Sir, he wouldn't be content to leave her to her own devices for the next few days. No, he would make those days difficult.

In bed that night she tossed and turned. Between wondering how he would punish her and thinking about what he'd commanded, she was a sleepless mess. She imagined herself at his feet, a desperate needy thing -- not needy for her own pleasure but to serve him, make him come. It was a primal urge, one that must be hardwired from some long-ago biological imperative. Maybe it stemmed from her sense of guilt, but she felt if she could service him, it would lessen her own need.

Not sure if it was a good idea but unable to resist, she retrieved the dildo from her nightstand drawer and rubbed it over her face, while imagining Sir watching. After licking it thoroughly, she moaned, begging, but in her mind there was no response from him. Because she already had his answer: "Do not come."

Feeling somewhat daring, she turned onto her stomach. Placing the dildo between her legs, she did a slow writhe back and forth on it, gliding it over her panties several times. But she didn't take it all the way to an edge. She was afraid that she wouldn't stop, the feeling too intense, the pleasure too close to deny.

First thing the next morning, when she sent Sir her daily photo, she included a heartfelt request -- asking him whether, when she edged that evening, he would allow her to imagine him using her mouth while she did, letting her service him until he came.

In truth, his upcoming visit, her denial, the idea of being punished -- it was all combining to make her feel wonderfully subservient. It was a feeling that returned at odd times during her busy day, making her eyes go slightly out of focus and her lips curve in a secret smile.

That feeling only increased at lunchtime, when she was finally able to check her phone for messages. There was one from Sir, granting her request but setting some conditions of his own:

Yes, you may beg me to fuck your mouth this evening. On webcam. When you get home, strip except for your panties. Eat dinner, do whatever you need to do, but be ready by 8:00 pm. Put your laptop on your coffee table and sit in that armless chair facing it. Spread your legs wide and place one hand inside your panties, one finger resting on your clit. Don't move it. Wait just like that.

Oh... god.... She felt a reflexive clench of her pussy as she read his words. And a moment later she realized that she'd need to retrieve the extra pair of panties she now kept in her desk -- hers were drenched.

The afternoon passed slowly. Her thoughts were preoccupied with her evening plans, making her forgetful and clumsy, so that she showed up ten minutes late for an important meeting, then knocked over her can of soda while she was trying to settle herself quietly at the table. She blushed, then spent most of the meeting wondering if her colleagues had noticed anything different about her.

She left work in plenty of time to drive home, even if there was a traffic snafu. Once there, she removed her clothes as he'd directed, amazed at how vulnerable it made her feel to move around her condo that way. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd been naked there. But knowing it was at Sir's behest was... well, it took her to that other place. The one where he ordered, and she obeyed. Where she begged and he decided. She gave a little shiver as she sat down to eat.

Everything was ready well before the allotted time. She'd put a selection of Sir's favorite toys within easy reach, just in case. She'd touched up her make-up and brushed her hair. Now she had nothing to do other than wait for him, her legs spread wide, her hand positioned under her panties as he'd ordered.

It was maddening to feel the light pressure of her fingers but not be able to move them, tease herself with them. As the minutes ticked by, her nipples contracted and every nerve in her body seemed linked to that small nub resting just under her middle finger. Her body sank into the back of the comfortable chair as her hips tipped up. She closed her eyes, imagining that finger tracing around and around in small circles, tapping gently....

Then Sir's face appeared on the screen. She sat up with a guilty start.

Sir grinned, as if knowing the reason for her blush. "Good evening, little slut. Nice to see my possession spread out and waiting for me. On time tonight, I see?"

She lowered her eyes at the implied rebuke, murmured, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry about last night -- "

He cut her off. "We'll deal with that this weekend. As for now, did you obey my orders? Were you able to keep that greedy hand still?"

She nodded, "Yes, Sir." Then a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she added, "Barely."

After a snort of laughter, he replied, "I expected no less." He paused a moment, and she looked at him hungrily. He saw it, and his face took on that focused, intense look that made her grow still, made her quake a little on the inside.

The silence grew, became heavy with anticipation. Then he said, "Do you have your dildo?"

She reached beside her, picked it up, showing it to him. "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl. Tease yourself with it over your panties, keeping those legs as wide as possible. Imagine it's my cock. Rub it over your body; on your face and over your tits. Show me how much you love to worship it. And how much my little cockslut likes being used for my enjoyment."

His words turned the sweet ache in her center into a blazing fire. With a little sound she couldn't repress, she did as she was told, letting that command reverberate through her. She kept her eyes on his as she took the realistic-looking dildo and stroked it along the slit that was visible through her almost transparent silky white panties. He could see her hand hesitate a little each time she rubbed it over her clit, as if she wanted to linger there.

The little slut had worn those panties on purpose; he was sure of it. She heard his growl, "Your body is more than just your needy pussy, slut. Use more of it."

With a reluctance she couldn't hide, she trailed the head of the dildo up her torso, circling her navel, guiding it between her tits. They were full and heavy enough that he could imagine himself fucking them, fucking that space in between while she used her hands to push them together firmly for his pleasure, her thumbs stroking over her nipples, her back arched in pleasure.

He shifted himself in his chair. Watching her closely, he could see her slightly open mouth, her lower lip wet where her tongue had touched it. Suddenly he wanted to know what she was thinking. He was just about to tell her that, when the words began to tumble from her mouth.

"Ohhh... god... Sir...," she had to take a deep, trembling breath. "I love being used... just an object for Sir's enjoyment. Am I... pleasing you, Sir?" Her eyes were pleading, desperate for his approval. She must have seen what she needed in his eyes, because she continued, "May I... may I use my mouth Sir? To worship your cock?"

While she waited for his answer, she rubbed the dildo over her face, her pleasure obvious. His own cock hardened to the point where his jeans were uncomfortable.

After a long moment, he said roughly, "You may. But first tell me what you are."

He heard her moan, a sound that was full of pent-up desire. She started to answer, but he interrupted her. "Give your pussy a spank first for being such a needy slut."

He watched her transfer the dildo to her other hand, then position her right hand to give a hard spank to her pussy. She knew instinctively that if she didn't do it hard enough, he'd make her repeat it.

He could almost feel the shudder that went through her. She panted hard for a moment. Then she answered, eyes down. "I'm your obedient fucktoy, Sir. Hot and wet; always ready for... for Sir's pleasure."

He gave a stern smile. "That's right. For my pleasure. And why is that?"

Her arousal made her mind slow, made her tongue feel thick in her mouth. "Because... because my pussy belongs to you, Sir. All of... all of me belongs to you."

"Very good girl. Now I'm going to watch you suck that dildo like it's my cock while I make myself come."

She whined as her body tensed and wriggled. She knew it was silly, but she wanted his cock, the real thing, in her mouth. She was his toy; she should be pleasuring him. Her pussy spasmed, and her arousal only grew at the humiliating thought that he'd be able to see how wet her panties were getting.

She closed her lips around the dildo, pushing it slowly into her mouth, getting it nice and wet. Her brain was doing that floating-sinking thing, but she was so attuned to his wishes that she snapped to attention when his voice rasped, "Show me how much of a filthy whore you are. Make it obscene."

Her eyes registered that Sir had opened his fly, was stroking his cock while watching her with those eyes that missed nothing. She exaggerated her every move for him. Tits thrust out, mouth wide, her moans as she used the dildo to fuck her own mouth were declarations of her need for more. She lifted her chin higher, hoping he could see the bulge of the dildo at the top of her narrow throat. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes when she gagged slightly.

At some point their eyes locked and held. Then he was coming, hard. The hunger in her eyes made his cum spray forcefully onto the floor. She felt a pale echo of his pleasure inside her, claimed it as her own reward. It wasn't an orgasm but... it felt good to have served him, pleased him.

Hardly knowing what she was saying, words poured from her. She begged him. "Please... Sir... please let your little slut come now. I can't wait until... oh god... I need it, Sir. Please...." Her voice was rapidly ascending a scale of need that caught his attention.

His brusque command brought her back to his control. "You are not allowed to come." He watched his words sink in, watched her actions slow. He took a gulp of air, still feeling spent, then said calmly, "That's enough now, little slut. Put the dildo down."

He waited until she obeyed him, swaying slightly in the effort to hold back her own need. It made him want to be there in the room with her. To tighten his hand over her neck, bend her over the chair and spank her. Then fuck her. He smiled ruefully. Soon enough.

Instead, he said firmly, "Good girl. Pull down those wet panties. All the way off. Spread your pussy lips for me."

With shaky hands, she obeyed. He could see hope in her eyes. Surely now he'd allow her to come.

With a small smile that might have been considered cruel, he said, "Now sit there. Just like that. No touching what's mine. Just sit and display your needy pussy for me. Let me look at my pretty little fucktoy."

Later, when she crawled into bed, her body still thrummed with need. He'd made her sit like that for nearly half an hour, her pussy twitching occasionally as she thought about all the things she'd like him to do her, all the things she'd do to herself if he'd only allow her. This punishment -- or whatever it was -- was a vivid reminder of how aroused she felt when he controlled her like this, humiliated her, denied her for his pleasure.

The last few minutes of their time together had been spent finalizing logistics for the weekend. She'd had to pull herself together in order to concentrate on details. He didn't like it when she forgot things. But all she could think was that she had only one more day to go before he'd arrive, and she'd pick him up at the airport.

He had been careful and precise in his instructions to her.

"No touching yourself tomorrow," he said. "You'll sit down for an hour tomorrow night and make a detailed list of all the filthy things you'd like me to do to you. Real or imagined; this weekend or in the future. I want your hips writhing when you think about it, when you write it down for me. Do that before you go to bed. Then read it again in the morning before you leave to pick me up. And bring a copy with you."

It was all she could think about as she tried to get to sleep. It didn't occur to her until much later that he had successfully distracted her from thinking too much about her punishment.

She'd taken the day off on Friday. She kept herself busy cleaning up her condo. It would be the first time he'd stayed with her. But as she showered, vacuumed, changed the sheets and towels, shopped at the grocery store, all she could think about was that list. Why did he want it? How explicit should she be? And -- her heart started to race -- what would he do with it?

When she finally sat down to compose it, her mind was all over the map. She wanted to go with total honesty; surely, that was best. But... what if some of the deeper, darker things she'd imagined him doing to her put him off? Or... she chewed her lip nervously... what if he planned to do all of them to her this weekend, without understanding that some of them would be more of a fantasy or perhaps an aspiration?

She sighed unhappily, then set herself a timer. She'd just type until the hour was up and not look back. She'd try to resist the urge to edit it later. If necessary, she could explain things. It might be scary, but she could trust him.

An hour later, she had a long list and a throbbing pussy. Some of the things she'd pulled out of her mind surprised even her. After another moment of intense negotiation with herself, she crossed two things off, but she left everything else. She printed out the list, then went to bed.

At the airport the next morning, she picked him up as planned. There was that awkward, rushed moment of eyes meeting, her shy smile, his hard grasp on her arm before he enfolded her in a hug. Then they were in her car, headed north. She felt strange being at the wheel with him in the passenger seat, kept stealing glances at him nervously until he put his warm hand on her thigh and said in that calm, firm voice, "Focus on driving, pet. Everything else can wait."

She maneuvered on and then off the freeway. After a bit she said, "Are you hungry? There's a great breakfast place on the way...."

He nodded, giving her thigh a little squeeze. "That sounds just right. And it'll give me a chance to read that list. You have it?"

She swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, Sir. It's in my purse."

Once inside the restaurant, they ordered and handed the server their menus. His hand caught her wrist. One finger pressed the inside of it, where her pulse started to race. What was it about his touch that caused such a devastating physiological reaction in her body?

She looked down at his fingers, mesmerized. Eventually she realized he'd said her name and she looked up.

"The list, little slut."

She fumbled in her purse, handed him the folded paper. To her great surprise, he merely read through it, taking a couple of swallows of coffee while he did so. Then he nodded, folded it up again, and slipped it into a pocket in his jacket. Finally, his lips twitched just a bit and he said, "A very lovely list." He straightened and drew his mouth into a firm line. "But first, there's the matter of your punishment."

She froze, realizing she'd nearly forgotten that part. Well... not truly forgotten, but she'd shoved it to the back of her mind. However, he had just placed it front and center. He took her wrist again, then leaned forward on his other arm, holding her eyes.

His voice was low, only loud enough to reach her ears. "You know by now that I'm not going to spout psychology. But I've seen it happen that a submissive will want more rules and structure. Then at some point she will test those rules -- either because it's too much, maybe more than she bargained for, or because she wants to see if the rules will be enforced."

He leaned back, studied her face closely. She suspected he could read her about as well as she could read herself, but he waited for her to say something. It occurred to her that he was giving her the chance to gracefully back down, if that was what she wanted.

Instead, she moved her hand in his grip so that she could grasp his wrist as well. Keeping her eyes on his with an effort, she said with total honesty, "It's not too much, Sir."

He smiled openly, but his eyes darkened with that indefinable look. "Good girl. That's what I thought. Now let's enjoy this breakfast. It may be a while until we eat again." The implication made her shiver delicately.

An hour later they were in the parking deck of her condo. She'd worried that he might do something like put on her collar and leash, but he seemed to realize that she lived here, had neighbors who knew her and would ask awkward questions. He simply followed her up the elevator and down the short hall to her front door.

Once inside, though, he turned to her with a look that made her go quiet. She'd placed a cushion on the tiles in the entryway earlier, as he'd specified. He said nothing, just watched her remove her clothes and then sink down on it. She felt extra subservient, so she kept her head bowed and murmured, "Thank you, Sir, for letting me be your little slut."

He made a noncommittal noise then told her to rise. Slowly and thoroughly he inspected her, then opened his suitcase to pull out her cuffs and heavy collar. She was delighted to have them on again. They marked her as his. She belonged to him. His valued possession, worth punishing. An odd thought, but she found it comforting.

She started to rethink that when she found herself bent over the large leather chair in the living room, her wrist cuffs clipped together behind her back. His knee nudged her legs farther apart until she could feel cool air on her pussy. Before she had a chance to wonder what would follow, she jerked at the stinging slap across her buttocks. A second one quickly followed, then a third.

She had to make an effort to remain quiet, her breath releasing in a strangled sob. He was using his hand, but the spanking was still painful, and her ass smarted.

He continued to wallop her, speaking calmly, "We'll start with a spanking, pet. Nothing quite like it to get across the idea that one is a bad little girl and deserves to be punished." He paused, as if expecting her to answer. When she just gave a slight whimper, he laughed and said, "You might try agreeing with me. It could lessen the amount of time I spend reddening your ass."

Voice unsteady, she said, "I'm a bad little girl and I deserve to be punished."

The next spank was extra hard. Her tears brimmed over. Another two spanks and then he stopped again. She felt his fingers between her legs, stroking through her pussy. She could tell from the easy way they slid into her that she was already very wet. His voice remained firm but there was a hint of a smile in it as he replied, "It seems you not only deserve it, you enjoy it. Little slut." Another spank. Then another, only this time his hand struck the inside of her thigh.

She jolted at the sensation, tried to close her legs, but he wasn't having it. He grasped her thigh hard, pulled it. "Tell me, I want to hear you. You enjoy this, don't you?"

She gave a half-hearted sob, even while she lifted her ass higher. "Y-yes, Sir."

"But this is a punishment."

She sobbed louder. "I'm s-sorry, Sir. Please...." her voice trailed away.

His hand stroked her again, "Please what?"

She shook her head helplessly, her hands curled tight as the words burst from her, "Please punish your slut. Please... let her come."

He laughed. "I don't think those two things go together. Or do they?" He spanked her again. "Maybe they do."

God... he was driving her crazy, winding her up to that place where it got hard to figure out what was pain and what was pleasure. She couldn't get the words out. Even if she could, she had no idea what she'd say. He kept alternating between spanking her and fingering her until she was writhing on the chair, trying to press her clit into it. Trying to do something, anything, to relieve the overpowering need.

Finally he hauled her up so that she was standing, her back to his front. He pulled her close. Her ass burned where it rubbed against the denim of his jeans, but she could feel his stiff cock and rubbed against him harder.

"Stop." He held her still; she was making an embarrassingly needy sound. His arms gripped her hard and his voice grew serious. "This is a punishment, and it's not over yet. No begging to come until I've finished." He waited a moment until she nodded, then said, "Go and stand in the corner, eyes to the wall. I have a few things to prepare."

She sniffled, brushed a hand over her face to wipe off the tears. Then she carefully walked to the corner. A deep breath and she spread her legs apart. Her wrists were still cuffed behind her back. He checked the cuffs, then left her there while he pulled things out of his bag, humming tunelessly while he worked. After a few minutes, he went into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of water, held it to her mouth until she'd had a few swallows.

Finally, he set the bottle down. Taking her shoulders he turned her to face him, lifted her chin so their eyes met.

"The rest of this punishment is less about pain and more about earning forgiveness." He saw her tense shoulders relax slightly and rubbed them gently. "Think of it as something difficult that you'll do for me to show that you're sorry and want me to forgive you. Understand?"

She nodded, then murmured, "Yes, Sir. I understand." Then she couldn't help adding earnestly, "I do want your forgiveness, Sir."

He smiled at her, stroking her hair back from her forehead. "I know you do. Now listen closely while I tell you what I expect." He watched her forehead crease, her eyes focused intently on his as she listened to him. He could see she was becoming bewildered. "Don't fret. Just follow my directions and you'll be fine."

He showed her the panties she'd taken off when they first entered. He'd attached her clit vibrator to them, the one he could control remotely. He helped her put them on, then he started the vibe at a low hum, just enough to tease her. Next, he sat down in the straight chair he'd positioned nearby and pulled her so that she was standing between his legs. He began playing with her nipples, pinching and twisting them roughly until they were stiff. Then he picked up a nipple clamp and lifted it to her breast.

When she realized what he was doing, she moaned with trepidation. She obviously hadn't forgotten how those clamps had felt when he'd used them the last time they were together. But to her credit she stood still while he cinched first one nipple, then the other, tightening both clamps until she hissed from the fiery pinch of them. Just to amuse himself, he let go of her and ran his hands over her ass, pinching it too, reawakening the fire there so she was practically dancing on her toes.

That fire stoked her arousal, made her focus go inward. He could see it happening and it made his breathing quicken. He stood up, pressed the vibrator to her clit until she gave a needy gasp, then walked her back to the wall where she'd waited before. In his hand was a thin, silver coin. A dime. He showed it to her, told her she would have to stand, nose pressed on it, against the wall, for ten minutes. If she let the coin fall, he would start the timer over again.

He knew this punishment would make her reach deep. She didn't enjoy being given tasks that she considered humiliating in the wrong, non-sexy way. But he'd thought about this carefully and decided that it might be just what she needed on this occasion. He watched her carefully as she bent forward to where his fingers held the dime against the wall. Slowly her nose touched it, and he moved away.

"Ten minutes. I'm starting the timer now," he said gruffly. "Spread those legs wider, slut."

She took a shallow breath as she carefully moved her feet, conscious of the dime. The vibrator was a light tease on her clit. She fought to keep her legs apart when she really wanted to squeeze them together. Fought to keep her mind off the pain from the clamps on her nipples. She could feel him watching and instinctively arched her back, wanting to be well displayed for him.

Seconds ticked past. She rolled her hips to see if it made the vibrator feel better. He could tell when her mind began to sink into that reverie of submission. Unfortunately, it made her lose focus, and the dime dropped. Her frustration was obvious.

He reset the timer and she started again, her face a study in determination. The throb from the clamps became harder for her to ignore. She arched her back again, started to wonder how she must appear to Sir -- his owned slut. Enduring his punishment to earn his approval and forgiveness. She sighed, trying to give up control, trying to accept that it pleased him to punish her with this task, and it would please him more if she performed it to the best of her ability.

For some reason this thought aroused her. She played around with the idea in her mind, said aloud, "Please punish your fucktoy, Sir. Please remind your dirty little whore what she is." She said it again, arching even further, nose carefully on the dime. She was sinking again, but this time she reminded herself to be careful.

He watched her struggle and then sink, listened to her entreaty and felt surprise and approval rise in him. Something in the task was connecting with her at a deep level, just as he'd hoped.

The timer went off, and she startled. Still, she'd made it through the first part.

She turned to him, her face dazed. He removed the vibrator and stroked her pussy with the dildo he held, slowly working it into her wet pussy. Once inside her, he pulled the panties up again, admonishing her to squeeze it, keeping it inside her for the next part.

After studying her face for a moment, he again positioned the dime on the wall. Her position, with legs apart, made it difficult to squeeze the dildo. When she did, the feeling of it inside her made her desperate to move her hips. She didn't dare, knowing she'd drop the dime. She could feel herself growing wetter.

Her nipples throbbed. She was beginning to think of it as a good pain --the kind that went straight to her pussy. She wanted to see Sir, hear his voice. But he kept his distance, watching silently. She felt the loss keenly, felt he was withholding approval until she finished the task he'd set. She imagined that she was wearing her leash, that he was holding it, pulling on it so that she felt the tug. She almost lifted her face to seek him out. Just in time, she remembered the dime. Still, it slid a few millimeters. She carefully worked it back up.

What were those words again? She searched through her hazy brain and repeated them. "Please punish your fucktoy, Sir. Please remind your dirty little whore what she is." The words seemed to develop a life of their own. They entered her through her pores. She became his dirty little whore in fact, needing to be forgiven.

She whimpered. It sounded strangely loud in the silent room. She heard him say, "No more noise. Don't say anything else, just concentrate. This is all there is until you finish."

She drew in a careful but shaky breath. Then another, and another. Finally the timer went off.

She pushed away from the wall, trembling. This was the part she'd been dreading. She turned to face the chair where he sat, pulled her panties down and removed the dildo, slick with her juices. She closed her eyes and drew a breath, then rubbed the dildo on her face and lips before licking it clean. Self-consciously she met his eyes and said, "Thank you, Sir, for punishing your fucktoy. Thank you for your correction and reminder that I belong to you."

His eyes held hers for a long moment. He said one word. "Again."

He'd told her at the beginning that it would be up to him how many times she repeated this cycle, but she'd thought... well, she'd hoped... he would be merciful. She tried not to show her response; still, her face crumpled a little as she stood in front of him, shifting from one foot to the other. But she was resolved to do this. She had faith that he wouldn't push her past what she could take.

He held the dime for her, but it dropped on the floor while she got into position. He had to stop the timer and start it again. She felt uncoordinated and unfocused -- imagined Sir thinking she was clumsy -- but somehow, it made her even more aroused and subservient.

The needy ache between her legs was stronger, even though the vibrator remained an elusive tease. Like a restless animal or a dog in heat, she shifted her hips back and forth, trying to get more friction, more pressure on her needy clit. He watched her lick her lips, knew she could taste herself there from the dildo, and it made his cock harder.

He could tell that she hardly realized she was talking aloud when she said again, "Please punish your fucktoy, Sir. Please remind your dirty little whore what she is." Clearly it resonated with her. He had to remind her to stand still, not wanting her to fail again.

She heard his voice recalling her from that mindspace. She tried to focus on exterior things, like the warm air currents from the heat register on her naked skin. Anything but her desperate need to come. And not just to come, but to come at Sir's command. With his approval, after finishing this task. A few tears trailed down her cheeks. She had always hated the thought of these sorts of punishments in the past, not seeing the point of them. Now she knew better.

She remembered again to arch her back. Her motion accidentally caused one nipple to brush the wall, and she nearly jumped backwards at the sensation, recovering just in time to keep the dime from dropping. The nerves in that pathway from her nipples to her pussy sizzled with heat. Carefully, she arched enough to keep her nose on the dime while pressing her punished nipples against the wall. Anything that could drive her higher. She closed her eyes and imagined that it was Sir's fingers scraping across the tips, pressing on them. She started to wonder if she could come like this. Only Sir's earlier injunction to stay quiet kept her from begging.

With a sense of relief, she heard the timer go off. Trembling she pushed herself from the wall. Her nipples had become a dull red, her breasts heavy and swollen. She was deep in a very submissive headspace. Her thoughts circled aimlessly while he offered her water. She drank it, but she wanted more. She wanted to come. No, that wasn't it. She wanted to earn... something. Forgiveness? Approval? She couldn't tell anymore what she wanted, but she was sure that Sir knew. She needed him to tell her.

He turned her slightly, removed the vibrator, noting how slick and wet it had become. Delicately he brushed a finger over her exposed, reddened clit. Even at that slight touch she whined like an eager dog. She imagined what it would be like to be allowed to be his pet right now, allowed to mindlessly rub herself on his leg without humiliation.

Once he'd pushed the dildo into her, she squeezed it with as much force as she could, with a desperation she couldn't have imagined an hour ago. Her pussy spasmed again and she could feel moisture trickling out.

Another couple of tears leaked from her eyes as she repeated the words that had become her mantra, even though Sir hadn't given them to her. They came out in an odd phrasing because she had to stop in the middle to pant. "Please... punish me. Punish your... fucktoy, Sir. Please remind your dirty little... whore what she is. Please...." Her voice trailed away.

She whimpered, wanting his cock with a visceral longing. She imagined it in her mouth, gliding along her pussy, filling it. Even in her ass. Until now, she'd never thought of herself as just a set of holes, but at this moment she would have been happy to be that for Sir, if he would just take her, use her. Just the feel of his cum spurting onto her back while she remained like this, nose to wall, might push her over.

He watched her struggle to control the flood of arousal. To obey him and finish her task. She'd been teased within an inch of sanity. He held his breath, wanting her to succeed.

Only the thought of Sir's displeasure kept her from giving in. She quivered, and breathed, and squeezed that dildo. Minutes passed while she hovered, so close, in a tortuous ecstasy of need.

The wave slowly receded. But she was exhausted from the struggle and lost her focus momentarily. The dime dropped. She almost sobbed with disappointment; knew she'd been close to the finish. Her head was buzzing, making it hard to concentrate. She couldn't... just couldn't do it again. It was too much. She was going to fail.

In her head, over all the noise, she heard his voice, kind yet firm, anchoring her. "It's okay, little slut. You were close enough. Consider yourself done. Just complete the final part."

She wanted so badly to drop to her knees in front of Sir, but she knew she had to stand and finish, rubbing her face with the dildo and cleaning it with her tongue. Her eyes remained on him while she breathed raggedly.

Her thanks, when they came, were entirely heartfelt. "Th-thank you, Sir. For... for my punishment. For letting me be your little slut...." No... that was the morning mantra. She was rambling; she couldn't think straight.

"Come here, little one," she heard him say. She took a few steps, weaving gracelessly toward him. "That's my good obedient girl. You did very well."

She dropped to her knees. "You f-forgive me?"

There was a slight smile on his face. "Yes, little slut. All your small failings are forgiven. And I hope you learned that I am paying attention, and I will punish you when it's needed."

She nodded slowly, whispered, "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

He picked her up, carried her the short distance to the chair he'd bent her over earlier and positioned her the same way. The spanking seemed so long ago to her, though it had been less than an hour. She fervently hoped he didn't intend to repeat it.

Instead, he released the clip holding her wrists together, massaging them firmly for a moment before saying, "Use your hands to tug on those clamps." She whimpered, but the desire to obey was too strong to be overridden. She gently pulled on first one, then the other, whimpering louder.

As she followed his command, his hands gripped her hips, lifting them slightly. She felt him push roughly inside her swollen pussy. Felt the full length of him fill her. The pleasure was so intense she cried out. It was what she'd longed for. He thrust his cock into her hard, held it there until she began to beg mindlessly for him to move. At last he did. Slow, long thrusts that made them both grunt.

She realized hazily that she was timing her tugs on the nipple clamps to his thrusts, and that they were gradually picking up speed and intensity. She tensed, arching, arching, as she said frantically, "Sir, I'm... I'm coming. I can't hold it back."

"Pull off those clamps and come for me," he replied. "Come now."

She may have screamed as the clamps pulled away. The feeling as she came was almost too intense to be pleasant. She was afraid she'd get a cramp in an arm or leg, her muscles contracted so strongly. And kept on convulsing as he kept thrusting, triggering additional contractions and aftershocks.

Finally she felt him let go, coming inside her. Piece by piece, limb by limb, their bodies stopped moving, jerking, pulsing. There was only their mingled breath going in and out as he bent over her, his body keeping her warm.

After resting like this for several long, delightful moments, his body a delicious pressure keeping her grounded, he slowly stood up and straightened her, folding her into him while his hands ran over her, checking her. Checking his property. She smiled and sighed, a relaxed, fulfilled sound.

Slowly, he nudged her toward the shower. She let him lead her there, start the water, join her inside. It was barely large enough for both of them. He washed her, demanded she wash him as well, even though her arms still felt uncoordinated.

Even more slowly, he moved his hands over her, teasing her sore nipples gently, stroking down her abdomen. He reached between her legs and parted her swollen pussy lips with his fingers, pressing her clit relentlessly. By the time he was done, she was moaning with need again, impossible as it seemed. Her body moved against his unthinkingly. He lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes. He wanted to see all that arousal he was creating in her.

She blushed as she realized she was rubbing herself against his hard thigh. She stopped, but he told her to keep doing it while he continued teasing her. His hands grew more demanding, less gentle. She looked at him helplessly, made little begging noises that brought a possessive grin to his face. "Little slut," he murmured, giving her a firm slap on her greedy pussy.

She gasped and arched against him, her back against the cold tile. The stall was so small that there was little danger of losing their footing, but she felt she was losing her mind as he brought her back to the edge. She had her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging into him unconsciously.

He was hard, unmerciful. Keeping her right there, right where he wanted her.

"Did you behave yesterday? Did you touch yourself after I told you not to?" he growled against her ear.

She shook her head. "N-no, Sir." Her voice was breathy, and she bucked suddenly as he pinched her clit.

He searched her eyes. "But you wanted to," he said.

"I... god... yes." She couldn't think, couldn't have lied at that point, even if she'd wanted to.

"What stopped you, my little slut?" His voice was harsh, grating. He tightened his grip, felt a surprising need to hear her answer. "Answer me."

She managed to frame a few words, "Because my pussy... my body... is yours. And... and I didn't have your permission, Sir." Her voice and eyes were desperate. Reluctantly he let her go.

"Good girl. My very good girl. Let's dry off and rest for a while." She held back a whine, realizing he planned to keep her this way.

For the rest of the weekend, he kept her in that bubble of submission. They stayed in for the most part; the weather was unexpectedly cool and rainy. But even if it hadn't been, they both seemed to want limited interactions with the outside world.

She made dinner for him, enjoyed serving him, watching him eat appreciatively as she kneeled beside him. He put her through her paces on her leash afterwards, then had her kneel again, keeping his cock warm in her mouth while he surfed the net, until he was ready to face-fuck her and explode down her throat.

On Sunday they lazed in bed, ate a large breakfast, then he spent some time installing an underbed restraint system he'd brought with him for her bed. Afterwards he tested it out with cruel delight, keeping her wet and aching while he teased her for hours, leaving her there with her vibe on low and orders not to come while he did some work on his laptop.

By evening, she felt herself sinking into gloom. He had a red-eye flight, but he'd insisted on using Uber rather than having her drive him to the airport, knowing she needed the rest before she had to return to work the next day.

He wasn't having her unhappy glances. He pulled her into his lap, stopping for a moment to enjoy the feel of her. She was a soft, pliant weight after he'd finally fucked her again while keeping her wand firmly applied to her clit. They'd both lost count of how many times she'd come. He hoped it would be enough to let her sleep.

He made his voice stern. "None of this. We've had a good weekend. I think we've settled some things, yes? You won't be going to any parties when you and I have made plans to connect?"

She gave him a tiny smile as she shook her head. "No, Sir. That won't happen again. But... it's hard to stay in the mindset when you're not here."

He stroked her hair, "I don't believe that, little slut. With your creative mind, I think you can figure out a way to imagine me here. Especially now that you can picture me here, in your place."

"And if I break a rule?" Her eyes danced up at him. "Will you come right away and punish me again?"

He grinned. "Minx. Maybe I should just punish you again right now, pre-emptively. Save myself a trip."

He watched her eyes darken at the idea. He wished he had more time; it really might help her if he.... He thought quickly. He'd already packed her cuffs and collar -- those stayed with him, he would be the only one to put them on her.

"Go into the bedroom and bend over the mattress, ass up." He set her on her feet, gave her a little swat. She gave him a look -- half-teasing, half-fearful -- and he felt his cock stir. Damn it, there just wasn't enough time.

He wouldn't restrain her, that could be dangerous. But he knew she'd stay as he told her. He pulled out the cock gag and put it on her, then he worked some lube into her ass and inserted the anal plug with the puppy-dog tail. That would keep her thinking. And he had one more card up his sleeve. He set her phone down next to her face on the bed.

Giving her a kiss between her shoulder blades and a firm pinch on her quivering ass, he said, "I want you to stay just like this until I text you from the airport giving you permission to get up. Think about how much you like being my pet, my needy little whore." Her hips squirmed delightfully at that.

Then he said, "And think of the things you put on that list, little slut. Think of how I might intend to use them in future."

She moaned, fingers bunching the comforter. She'd forgotten about the list. He hadn't mentioned it all weekend. What could he possibly have in mind?

He took a final, possessive glance at her, his little slut. Then he picked up his bag and walked out the door.