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No Compunction

By: SweetOblivion



"I have no compunction in telling you that whatever else you owe, silk, you are indebted to the tune of five hundred words," he determined, sitting down on the garden bench.

"I love the feel of the damp grass," she intimated, as she walked across the lawn and onto the patio, her arms full of freshly cut flowers. "You know that sensation -- the cool, moist blades springing up underneath bare soles. Can the five hundred words not wait?" 

"It isn't damp anymore," he commented. The sun had been shining for several hours that morning. As a result the ground had dried out and he could no longer see the squashed grass that marked out her footprints. "And the words can wait for now."

"Thank you, sir. And that's what makes the patio a delicious contrast," she smiled, reaching down to pick up a couple of the cut flowers that had spilled from her arms. The sandstone paving slabs seemed warmer to the touch of her hand and coarser than when she felt the heat on the ball of her foot. 

"You shouldn't wander around barefoot like that," he criticised, putting the paper down and staring at the assortment of multi-coloured buds that she deposited before him on the conservatory table. He picked up a yellow rose and twirled it in his hand.

"Why? Do you find it undignified?"

"You are hardly a child of nature and you never know what is lurking in the long grass."

"I'll take my chances, if you don't mind."

"I do mind." 

"You worry too much; even so, it's terribly sweet of you. Look: now that the mist has cleared today at last, can we go somewhere today? I've been so looking forward to some decent weather."

"As you say it's going to be a fine day. Let's profit from it."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

"I thought that we could ride out across the fields and down to the woods by the river."

"That sounds like a plan."

"At least it's a way of keeping you from cutting your soles to ribbons."

"Let me sort these flowers out first."

"Can't you leave that to your maid?"

"Karenita?"

"Yes."

"Will she not ride out with us then?"

"I had thought to have you to myself."

"You've had me more times than you could possibly know, sir."

"Have you been dreaming in the dew again?"

"I was thinking about last night actually."

"Ah yes...last night..."

Yes indeed, that last night had been a complete contrast to the relaxed banter of the morning, but the evenings were his to do what he willed with her. 

Silk recalled that she hadn't even had time to utter any greeting before he was upon her, pressing her head down. She knew the sensation well before he imposed it upon her: that familiar slight ache in her shoulders, as she resisted at first and then she was down before him, crouching, kneeling -- positioned. 

Moments later she was watching his hands tugging impatiently at his belt buckle and the buttons being pulled open before her face. She had had a reckless urge to click her tongue as he extracted his sex, but had thought better of it, choosing rather to run her finger down the inside of his thigh, pressing her nail against his leg, wanting him to feel her. 

Silk would never just be passive: it was not enough to let herself observe as he rubbed his sex with thumb and forefinger. She could be patient: waiting for him to press himself against her lips, rubbing backwards and forwards along her lips, but that was not the same as total abject surrender.

It was easy to recollect how that male flesh felt against her. It was easy to lean forward and tempt him. And it was equally easy to wait for him to satisfy his need: she had been enjoyed this way many times before. 

She was only too familiar with the way that ephemeral softness would soon be replaced by the hardening force and the pushing of his groin, as his member grew and slid between her lips, against her teeth into the warmth of her mouth, pressing against the fleshy centre of her tongue. 

His hand had rested on the top of her head as he slid forwards easily. She tasted his desire as his cock rode over her tongue and almost touched the back of her throat. Knowing that the gag reflex was but a few millimetres away, she drew back and then held still, waiting for him to draw back too. 

She looked up at him, her head slightly tilted to one side, doing her best to look quizzical. Opening her eyes wide, she blinked slowly and looked up at him, her mouth filled with his expanding member. As she sensed him lowering his other hand and felt his fingers pressing against her jaw, squeezing her cheeks, she knew he was ready to make her accommodate him in the way that would maximise his pleasure: the way he preferred. 

The room had not been well-lit, but it didn't matter. The flickering candle lamps had sufficed. 

She was certain that he needed no illumination to light up the thoughts that were crossing her mind as he began to pull away from her and then suddenly thrust his length into her now receptive mouth once more. She tightened her mouth around him and heard his appreciative groan.

I'm glad you enjoy me, she thought, looking up at him, wide-eyed again, just as he liked her to be when he took her this way. She opened her mouth a little as he pulled back once more, trying to ensure that her teeth did not scrape his sex, more than the bare minimum that he allowed to accentuate his delight.

Then he was thrusting forward again and all she could see was his groin pressed to her face. She waited for his hand to reach behind her head and to press her further onto him. She liked -- no -- she loved her powerlessness at this moment. 

He took control of her and used her like a possession: a simple utensil to augment his pleasure. She could lose herself in this place where a mist seemed to descend over her feelings and they were lost to sight. As they dwindled became irrelevant, the heat of their connection and the animal passion of his thrusting dominated the hour. 

Silk would have liked to turn and see herself absorbing him in the mirror; but she was held to tightly. In any case, she was nervous of looking lest she start giggling to see his trousers around his legs and the apparent weakness of his shuddering frame as he took what he felt and she knew to be rightfully (and wrongfully) his.

The slickness had begun to form between them as his demands wetted her lips and her saliva adhered to his cock. She hadn't looked, but she could still remember the feel of the damp chill of cooling saliva on his member and her chin, as he pulled away from her. 

Then he was back within her well-opened mouth, fucking her face, heating his cock on her breath, her saliva, her surrender. She looked up towards his face again, the questioning look gone as she took on the aspect of someone almost pleading for more. 

Her fingers began to touch his thighs and flicked against his balls, holding still between each caress, as if waiting for him to growl his approval. Then she reached behind to touch his perineum...gently at first...a light stroke, a soft tickle...a minor distraction and at the same time an enhancement. Yes, she knew his preferences after these several years together. 

Her hair, a dark mane devoid of colour in the shadowy room, had attracted his attention once more. He had pushed his fingers into it and lifted it up off her shoulder, the way he did when he wanted to kiss the nape of her neck. As his hand scrunched it up in his fist and tugged, she felt a tingling on the back of her neck, bared to the cool air. 

The tingling had became a tension as he pulled harder drawing her upper body forward and bringing her face back to his groin once more. Then he pulled her back, making her rock on her lower legs, like a hobby horse, being trotted round the toy room of his mind. 

Silk had splayed her legs to gain greater purchase and to take the pressure off her knees and her ankles. As she spread herself, she sucked him further into her mouth, letting him hear the slurp of her lips on his member. 

She'd twirled her tongue at the same time to maximise the feelings that his sensitive cock-head would enjoy as it scraped along the roof of her mouth until he jetted his pleasure against the back of her throat with a further groan and a hiss of expelled air... 

"Yes," he had gasped, ""I love the feel of pleasuring myself in your mouth, pet."

"And I," she had thought as she wallowed in his spending; "I will love the feel of damp grass in the morning..."

"...No pet, you will celebrate my masculinity in five hundred words on the gravel this morning," he smiled, tugged at the leash on her collar and stood up, before walking off the patio to another bench in the shade on one of the gravel paths.

"Back to that theme," Silk replied sulkily, obliged to follow given his relentless grip on her leash, feeling the gravel pressing against her bare feet.

"I warned you about bare feet."

"You're the one who should come with a health warning, sir," she pouted and crouched down besides him, disinclined to kneel in the gravel. 

"I do."

"I shall start now, then."

"Now or then?"

"Now; if you are going to trifle with my words, that's going to be irritating, but it will still serve my purpose, sir."

"No."

"Yet, if you remain that succinct, you're not going to be a great help."

"I know."

"Sometimes you can be quite horrid."

"I can."

"What? You aren't even going to remind me how much I love your propensity to horridness."

"No."

"When I said horrid, did you hear me say mean as well?"

"A sub-text?"

"Yes," she grinned. "You don't mind me re-inventing history?"

"Provided you don't think it will count towards the five hundred words."

"Hey! You can't change the rules half-way through!"

"Can't I?"

"Well, yes, you can, sir; but it's most unfair."

"And since when have I been fair?"

"Since the moon was made from green cheese."

"I'm hardly arbitrary."

"Five hundred wasn't arbitrary, then, sir?"

"It was an exercise in proportionality: a punishment to fit your misdemeanour. And it begins now."

"I don't remember any misdemeanour?"

"I do." 

"If you say 'I do' a third time, does that mean you have to marry me, sir?"

"No, it means you'll have trodden across all the thin ice at your disposal and are about to slide precipitously into very icy waters indeed."

"What can I do to stave off the chill, sir?"

"Get to your task, girl."

"Place the flat of my hand upon your thigh?"

"That's good."

"Rub the material longingly, feeling the heat of your body beneath my palm?"

"Well done."

"Outline your sex in my cupped hand and gasp appreciatively as if I have found a new treasure of the Sierra Madre?"

"Don't push it, you feisty witch."

"Actually I wasn't. I was thinking of squeezing, fondling and generally making much of your genitalia."

"Thank you."

"That's allowed then?"

"Yes!"

"Don't exclaim so, sir. I was just checking your parameters."

"I'll stripe your backside in a moment."

"Then my five hundred words will degenerate into nonsensical squeals and cries."

"And that will be so different from your current line in nonsense?"

"I thought I was charming you with my flirtatious ambiguity?"

"You know exactly what you were doing." 

"Some people won't find this very erotic."

"Some people are cretins who can't spell or think straight." 

"Yes, sir."

"Now back to the task in hand, please."

"Three hundred and eighty eight."

"Sorry?"

"I was just keeping count."

"You've had enough practice of that," he grinned and glanced across at the desk, its mahogany surface gleaming in the sunshine.

"You've never made me count that high before, sir."

"There's always a first time."

"What if I lose count?"

"What happens when you lose count after five spanks?"

"I have to start again, sir."

"The same principle applies here then."

"I don't know if I'll be fit for anything, if you indulge my derriere that much."

"Your thighs, hips and breasts can share the count. It's only fair."

"I thought fairness wasn't a consideration?"

"Sometimes you think too much, pet."

"Yay!"

"Something to celebrate?"

"I love it that the five hundredth word was 'pet'."

"Me too."

"Aren't we clever?"

"No, pet, we just are."

"That's a good thing to be, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's a very good thing."

"Did you really mean that about me thinking too much?"

"Sometimes you over-egg the pudding."

"Would you have me play the brainless bimbette more, sir?"

"That part does not fit you."

"Your part fits me."

"Well apply yourself to the fitting then."

"Haven't I done my quota yet?" She grinned, unzipping him.

"No."

"Have you changed the boundaries again without telling me?"

"I told you. You were preoccupied with counting."

"How do you judge that?"

"Your lips moved."

"That was nasty."

"No. I want to see your lips moving again, pet."

"Do you? And my tongue?"

"Yes, but I'd like less of the vocal chords."

"I thought you wanted me to celebrate your masculinity?"

"Sometimes words are unnecessary."

"Even these ones written earlier, sir?" she giggled as she leant forward and considered obliging his need. 

"You were rather late with that revelation."

"It's as if I'd been dozing: I feel rather dull and stupid today." 

"Whatever else you are, you don't strike me as stupid," he said as he looked up from his papers to find her standing before him, her hands clenched together and her head bowed. 

So, I'm just dull then?"

"No, you're a tardy bitch in need of attention." 

Her hair had fallen over her face and so he couldn't tell whether she was frowning in put-on sorrow or smiling at her previous remark. He liked such conundrums. They opened up him new options as to how to respond. 

More importantly, they stopped any risk that the rapport between them growing stale as many tepid rituals between a Master and the mastered will fade over time. He was very conscious that, once a true rapport had been established, it is always relatively easy to build on that initial connection. 

He was equally aware that the fabric that weaves two people together can be torn by nuances and shredded by an excessive use of force or lack of common understanding. 

"Are you nervous?" He ventured.

"I'm as nervous as a cat right now and well you know it, sir."

"Concerned about the sort of attention that I might choose to give you now morning drifts into afternoon?"

"You shouldn't get up so late if you don't want to lose your mornings sir."

"And you shouldn't make comments like that if you don't want to revisit the St Andrew's cross and feel the whip across your shoulders."

"I'll try not to."

"Try harder."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm too lazy to tie you there anyhow."

"I know you too well to have too many anxieties on that front, even if I'm unclear where you are leading me right now."

"What do you want: something more incisive to give you less room for manoeuvre; and less space for conversational dead-ends to insert themselves?"

"That could be helpful."

"Sometimes I like to see you stew, though."

"You can be cruel."

"And yet you desire my association all the more despite that tendency."

Silk snorted, refusing to be drawn. The she pressed her chin down and appeared to close herself off from him. Silence reigned, save for the quiet ticking of the large floral clock laid out beautifully in all its summer splendour on the grassy hillock behind them. 

Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out everything other than this metronomic sound. She thought back on how it had provided a backdrop to the several whippings that she had begged or teased from him.

Then silk heard him get up from the garden bench and felt him stand in front of her. The sound of his soft breath seemed to wrap around her consciousness. It exiled the clock to a mere background sound that measured their time together. 

As she felt his fingers under her chin, forcing her head back up, she kept her eyes resolutely closed, wanting to show some defiance. 

In fact, she only finally opened them when her neck was so arched that she knew she would be staring directly into his pupils. He would feel the full impact of her unwavering gaze.

The calculation was born of experience. He stood several inches taller than her petite frame. It was a distance that pleased them both -- far enough to hold back and to assert himself should he wish to; near enough to lean down and kiss away her worries were he to choose so to do. 

He watched the ghost of a smile fading from her features as she stared almost defiantly up at him: "are you daring me to take the offensive, pet?"

"That's for you to say and me to obey."

"Then you might care to reveal more of the territory to be assaulted, instead of seeking to please me with incautious rhymes."

"Yes sir."

"It might be my way to beat about the bush..."

"You are always welcome to beat about my bush, sir," she interrupted him, rather less than coyly.

"Maybe you should lose that very fetching skirt shortly and then spread the legs that frame the wispy covering you glorify with the name of bush, but first open the blouse: your cleavage revealed is always pleasing."

She partly unbuttoned the blouse, looking up at him briefly as each button was loosed, as if to ask him permission for further revelation. He reached across to her and parted the blouse opening her intimacy up to his gaze and then sat back down to observe her. 

"Why is said blouse only almost unbuttoned, pet?"

"I was too busy being gauche."

"When I ask you to be gauche, then you may be as gauche as I wish. When I ask you to start getting naked I do not expect half measures."

"Forgive my temerity."

"I'll forgive your temerity after I have punished you for it."

"Thank you," she responded quietly, finally stripping off the blouse and her silken bra.

"Nice breasts. Offer them up to me."

"Like this, held up in my hands, the bra cups stretched?"

"Exactly like that -- you show off your chest admirably. I can hardly resist smacking your tits and pinching the nipples."

"Please don't hold back on my account, sir."

"I most certainly will not. I wouldn't want the lady dominates disappointed, pet: all your blushing would be in vain were your public exposure to be passed over."

"My face feels hot."

"And how do your tits feel?"

"Slightly achy"

"Only slightly achy?"

"It's a start, sir."

"I'll slap them a bit harder then."

"If it pleases you..."

"It does."

"Ouch. Ouch... Ouchie!"

"Did that hurt, pet?"

"Yes -- quite a lot, actually"

"You deserved it. In fact you needed it.Now put the bra back on." 

A few minutes passed in near silence, before he nodded his head. At that signal she reached down and tugged at the decorative belt that he had presented her with earlier that day. It was thick, leather and embroidered with intricate patterns. She was more than certain that he had chosen it for more than decorative purposes. 

There was bound to be a moment when he would be asking it of her with a view to patterning her with it, were she to be too feisty. Silk shrugged her shoulders and thought to herself 'so, be it' as she slipped the belt off, folded it over and lifted it up to offer it to him.

"Thank you for the offering."

"I was just rendering unto Caesar," she teased lightly. "I was also thinking that there's always a sort of logic in your presents, sir."

"I know, but would that be an inexorable logic?"

"No: it's a delicious, mad logic that is uniquely yours, sir," she giggled and was mildly relieved to see that he was chuckling with her. She was not quite familiar enough with all his nuances to tell when he could be pushed and how far he could be pushed yet. 

Even so, she was happy with the atmosphere of uncertainty this generated. It sometimes added a delicious angst to their exchanges and brought confrontations to a sudden end, when she found herself upended, draped over a conveniently located piece of furniture and brought back to where, these days, she was most happily located.


No Compunction



"Please leave your skirt folded on the bench," he instructed, "and bring me the afternoon post once you have done so. You'll find it on that white metal table."

"Left by a passing white rabbit, blessing his whiskers?"

"No. The butler may well bless his whiskers, but has yet to wear the rabbit costume you presented him with at Easter."

"He is so ungrateful."

"He was most insistent that I should add it to the growing list of misdemeanours attributable to you."

"Then he's mean as well as no fun."

"One gift deserves another, surely, pet?"

"The garden is nicely furnished for such gifts, sir."

"It always is when you are here."

"Are you expecting any important mail?"

"Your dressmaker's bill," he said evenly, watching her halt in her tracks as she made her way across the large room. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder towards him.

"What's mine is yours, sir."

"So it is. So it is."

"Do you need this bourgeois contrivance to justify the mistreatment of my bottom?"

"Rest assured: I need no justification."

"No sir," she said in muted tones, as she flipped through the various letters on the little table, trying to recollect sundry purchases over the past week and wondering vaguely how many of them were bills. Then she sauntered back to him, his correspondence in her hand. 

"It is, however, good to have some idea of the shape and essence of things, before one takes things in hand."

"I am a thing?"

"You are whatever I designate you, silk."

"Yes sir."

"If you have any doubt in any way, then you can recant your many sins and then withdraw out of my reach."

"You know full well that you will never have to come and fetch me sir," she responded emphatically, having walked back from the metal table to rejoin him. She deposited the letters on another small table next to his bench, crouched down and folded her legs under herself, convincing herself to kneel on the sharp gravel by his side, her arm resting on his lap. 

"Do you want something to keep the gravel off your knees?"

"A lap, perhaps?"

"You will have ample time to lap later today pet."

"I rather think that I shall look forward to that."

He shuffled through the correspondence idly, without venturing to open any of the letters and reached across to her to run the back of his hand against her cheek and ruffle her hair affectionately.

"I believe you look forward to being spanked across my lap," he added conversationally. "One might even say you lap it up."

"I do believe you are right."

"In my experience I usually am."

"Your experience sometimes seems to me to be a regular bohemia," she grinned up at him.

"Sometimes you are a very clever girl."

"And you are always a very sardonic master."

"And yet, you love me all the more for it."

"That I do, sir."

"And you do very well. Now, will you finally divest yourself of that skirt, girl."

"No need to be snappish, sir," she smiled and leant to one side, fiddled with the buttons and then stood, ready at last to wriggle out of it. 

"And your dawdling isn't reason enough?"

"I don't think so," Silk smiled and left one button done up accentuating the wriggling needed to allow it to escape over her hips.

"You do that so lasciviously," he murmured approvingly.

"I am innocence personified," she lied glibly, "so this must be one of those rare occasions when you are quite mistaken."

"Remove the bra again and let me be the judge of that."

"It's barely quarter to three in the afternoon, sir," she said looking over to the clock. "You're not going to hurt my boobs again are you?"

"No further plans at this time but you will be quite bare when tea is served at three or plans may change."

"Will you tame me before tea?"

"You think fifteen minutes is all your sauce has earned?"

"Probably not, sir: but what do my thoughts count in this matter."

"That time is rapidly diminishing through our discourse. I fear you will have to sip tea in your underwear and save any nibbling of petit-fours until after I'm done with you."

"Let appetite wait on good digestion, sir."

"How are the nerves?"

"They are much calmer, thank you."

"Those are very pretty under-things: The colour and style suits you."

"Thank you."

"Reach into my pocket: I've got you something to go with them," he said. She giggled and looked up at him coyly, a desire to linger and taunt him competing with an eager childlike wish to see just what he had for her. 

"Oh my: what a lovely collar, sir. I love the blue stone."

"It's Topaz."

"Topaz from my top - how lovely!"

"Enjoy it."

"You have excellent taste, sir."

"It seemed to cry out to be acquired," he smiled and clipped it around her neck.

"As much as I cry out?" She mused, twisting the bauble on around so the blue jewel felt central against her wrist, captivated by the fine design and the stones interspersed on the gold filigree.

"Your cries are usually rewarding for both of us," he responded dryly.

"I'm glad they serve, sir."

"I'm glad you serve, pretty thing."

"You're very kind."

"You're very mine."

A small party making its way through the maze of paths heralded the arrival of tea. Two maidservants carried large tea trays down the winding gravel, past the maze and the rose gardens focussing solely on the white metal table on the veranda beyond the master and his half-dressed pet. 

They walked right by the couple and deposited their burdens outside, removing plates, teapots and other accoutrements from the silver trays before drawing back the heavy metal chairs and standing back to one side. 

"I've been thinking...," she began as they walked across her arm in his.

"Oh?"

"I'd like your opinion on something."

"And what would that be?"

"Would it be permissible to take tea bare-breasted?"

He laughed. She so loved to excite the imagination and then land so accurately right in the heart of his adoration. He didn't think he would ever tire of these flirtatious charades, he thought, resolving his face into a more serious aspect and responding: "Isn't that a risky business?"

"Not if you pour, sir."

"Are you trying to tempt me?"

"You've no business to say such a thing."

"Constraining a master's business is an odd sort of proposition from a pet."

"Should masters who differ to be daring, not expect the same of their pets?"

"Strip then. I doubt the maids will be offended. They've seen worse in their time."

The two servant girls blushed slightly, but said nothing, keeping their heads slightly bowed and their eyes focussed on the table.

"And no doubt they'll see worse before you're done with them....brrr -- these chairs are cold."

"Is that a touch of the green-eyed serpent, pet?" He grinned and buttered a scone, while she unclipped her bra and hung it indelicately over the back of her chair.

"No, so long as they leave your serpent to my tender cares, sir."

"Are you expecting something?" He glanced down at her fingers snaking their way across his thigh.

"Tea"

"And nothing else?"

"Would you turn me away if I wanted more?"

"Come here girl: I would turn your unencumbered tits to good use."

"Oh goodie! I thought you'd never indulge me, sir." Silk kicked her legs up and then stood briefly, before plumping herself down in his lap. She reached across and cut the buttered scone into quarters.

"Will you forgive me for letting the tension build up?" He looked over at her, wrapping an arm around her lower back and squeezing affectionately.

"You are a damnable tease," she frowned and popped a quarter scone in his mouth. 

"And you are disarming, sweetheart," he responded eventually, having consumed the sweetmeat, feeling her pressing down and rubbing her hindquarters against him. He half-turned to the maids. "Bring us the three cushions from the sofa and place them on the ground."

The serving girls nodded, bowed and obeyed, walking back to the house. He was sure they would be returning fifteen or so minutes later, plumping up the cushions dutifully as they walked back with it. In them meantime let the girl have her fun: 

"Do sex and conversation go well together, sir?"

"That depends on the conversation and the nature of the sex."

"So my squeezing my breasts around your member during tea wouldn't inhibit you or distract you from your correspondence?"

"No. It would be a shame not to avail myself of the opportunity they present."

"It would be a waste."

"And I, generally, can't stand waste; more tea?"

"No. A squeeze before tea would be appreciated."

She slid off his lap and knelt before him again, winced on feeling the sharp gravel once more and relaxing as she slipped onto the cushions; then she unbuttoned him: "oh my, sir: someone's rather pleased to see me."

"Squeeze me in your hand and then between your breasts -- I want to get the full effect, girl."

"I'm so glad it does you the power of good, sir."

"Me too."

"Shall we dine in the garden this evening sir?" She enquired pushing her breasts together around his member and sliding her body slowly up and then down. "Do you realise how much I've been looking forward to dining and delighting you, sir?"

"I have an idea. Your breasts certainly give you away."

"Your serpent is hardly the most discrete repository of secrets," she retorted and squeezed her plump breasts together even harder than before.

"All its secrets will be divulged rather quickly if you continue in that vein, pet."

"The view of my come-spattered breasts would displease you?"

"The view of your welted backside would enhance it."

"Shall I fetch your cane, sir?"

"My hand will serve in due course."

"Only a hand?"

"That will do you, I'm sure."

"And why only in due course if there is nothing to fetch?"

"Don't hasten my pleasures."

"How many this time, sir?"

"A baker's dozen at least, I think and more if you rush me."

"Shall I count?"

"Please - You always count with such élan."

"I wish somebody would come," she smiled holding her breasts tightly round his sex

"And would that be anyone in particular?"

"You, sir, if I may be so bold."

"You may be bold, you may be decorated and then you may be corrected."

"Patience is not one of my virtues."

"I dare say we can explore your various virtues before supper."

"Tea, dinner, supper and all the pleasures I offer you: is your life just bread and circuses, sir?"

"You offer so much more than any circus, pet."

"If I offer you my mouth, will you excuse me from further responses, sir?"

"I'm sure you can express as much as I need with those wide-open eyes of yours."

"And a well-filled mouth, sir?"

"That contrast is always a pleasing one."

"You like your contrasts, sir."

"You on your knees: my pleasure at your disposal?"

"That's a case in point."

"You have permission to case my point, girl."

"Your needs are there to be satisfied."

"I would not have your conscience guilty through neglect."

"There are always ways to expiate guilt."

"Your inventive mind is truly a blessing, girl."

"Is it as much a blessing as my overwhelming wish to surrender to your passion?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I should quieten down and service you like a good pet."

"That suggestion certainly has much merit."

"Do I talk too much?"

"You are as obedient to my whims as I would wish you to be."

"I love that you appreciate me for all I am."

"I want to make the most of you. You are too fine a jewel not to be fully exploited."

"It's nice to be enjoyed to the full, sir."

"It would be stupid of me to neglect any aspect."

"Is it stupid of me to offer up such aspects, master?"

"I will have no compunction about using all your aspects in public you know, pet," he taunted her, tugging at the leash around her neck to bring her to heel as it were, "or, others using you on my behalf for that matter. After all, they will know where to find me later and will bring you to me."

"I know, sir," she gasped lightly, slightly winded, crouching there before him, as he sat back on the bench and admired his possession. 

Her new collar was tight enough to chafe her throat when he tugged it like that, but she loved the sensation it gave her: evidence in the marks left by the rubbing on her throat that she belonged, that she was owned. 

"Take this garden for instance..."

"This garden...?"

"Yes. It seems perfectly suitable to me for a garden-party later this evening," he said as he tugged again and crouched down to pet silk, squeezing her breasts one at a time through her silk blouse. "At night even when the rose bushes are lit up, it's dark, shadowy, slightly claustrophobic and, best of all, well-populated by like-minded people by invitation only."

"Should I look forward to your night then sir?"

"And you are already here, ready to perform any service I ask of you."

"I might get embarrassed."

"You look glorious when you blush."

"Shall I stay crouched in front of you, when I'm done blushing?"

"You may, provided you are so kind as to remove your blouse first."

"I shall have to put it on first."

"Don't bother, pet."

"You will want to show me off to them?"

"Property is there to be admired. And the muted tones of this gathered company show that it is rather short of delights to admire."

"Did you have any particular property in mind?" Silk half-smiled up at him; but she knew full-well exactly what he meant.

"You know that you are the principal object, pet," he said, slapping her lightly across the cheek with the leash, "though you are rather overly-accessorised by any clothes you wear on such occasions."

"Am I?"

"Yes; now lose the panties and kiss the floor, while I obtain tequila from one of the serving girls."

"Karenita is on the patio, sir."

"Your maid - excellent; but I can see that, girl. You should be following the direct order."

"Yes sir" she smiled and wriggled out of her knickers. "At least she had the cushions now."

"Karenita," he called out: "bring me three glasses and bring yourself too and ask one of the maid servants to remove these damned scatter cushions - they make the place so untidy."

Silk frowned.

"Yes sir" the distant reply came from the little Italian maid servant. He smiled to see her curtsey.

"There is no floor, sir," Silk complained. "Only gravel now."

"That will do, girl. Make do and kiss it as you were told."

"Why tequila?" Silk enquired as she crouched down on hands and knees and kissed the depression left by his footprint. "And why three glasses?"

"One tequila, two tequila, three tequila...floor."

"Ah...Ah, sir you know all the best jokes."

"Continue then."

"Yes sir."

She knelt forward to kiss the gravel between his two feet, as he lifted the three glasses of tequila from the proffered tray. He smiled down at her as he put his hand on the bench, patting it, indicating Karenita should sit down. 

He handed her a glass, making sure she clenched it properly, despite her fascination at the surrender of the young woman before her. Then he scrabbled under the seat with his foot until a little pink plastic bowl came into view and passed her a second glass.

"Serve the young mistress, Karenita."

"Yes sir."

"No, not with the glass: pour it into the pet's bowl."

Karenita giggled and transferred the powerful spirit to the bowl, bending forward and lifting herself off the bench a little to reach, receiving a hearty slap for her efforts and rewarding the master with another giggle. 

"Here, Karenita. On my lap, while we watch the pet's laps. And stop the green eyes silk. Now." 

Silk said nothing but began to lap at the contents of the bowl, her head down as she listened to the excited squeals and ineffective protests of the maid, knowing how his insinuating hands had probably found a way to excite that silky Italian cunt further. 

Having finished the fiery contents of the bowl, she raised her head and watched as he took the third glass of tequila and fed it to the inexperienced servant-girl, already tipsy on the draft she'd drained while silk was lapping. 

Karenita matched the flow at first as he angled it more and more, without stopping the flow. Gradually the pace of the burning liquid overtook her consumption and it started to spill from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin and over her recently denuded chest. 

Silk observed that the girl's nipples were quite brown, almost as dark as her tanned face and smiled silently at her observation. 

Once the glass was empty, he put it back on the table and brushed the sticky residue from Karenita's mouth, squeezing her lips to force them into a pout and then pressing his fingers into her mouth one at a time, ensuring that she licked them clean, like the good servant that she aspired to be.

"Flip the skirt up round your waist, Karenita."

"You want to see my body, sir?"

"I want to see that which I own. As will some of the company later I believe," he raised his arm in greeting as the first of his guests arrived and made their way across the patio, drawing them in to focus on her even more than before." I hope the garden isn't too draughty for a naughty Italian servant girl or for my silk?"

"No, the heat from my skin is more than enough to keep me warm," silk said feeling able to speak now she was included even as an apparent afterthought.

"I'm sure the first of my lady guests would be pleased to drizzle some of their champagne down your back to cool you off a little."

"No more tequila, sir?"

"No, but there is a belt to warm you and your clever little mind, silk."

"I seem to be even warmer now, sir."

"And you are wetter too?" He enquired reaching over her to slap her bottom hard and letting his fingers play in the gusset of Karenita's knickers for a little while, enjoying the feel of her excitement seep into the material.

"Evidently sir" 

"Lose her panties then."

"She'll be practically naked then."

"Good - her discomfort needs to be taken into account quite as thoroughly as yours. Turn around, girl."

"Yes sir."

"I want Karenita to spank you. And you want to stay still while she obliges you." 

"As you wish"

"Kindly lose your panties down, Karenita, since silk was so disobliging as to hesitate", he instructed the dark servant girl. "You may spank her hard and then lick the pet's pussy once you have done so. Don't worry: I know exactly where she's been."

Karenita smiled timidly and then leant forward, tugging her little knickers down over her firm thighs. As ever obliging, the pet emulated the undressing, lifting each of her legs in turn and then arching her back sinuously, presenting her sex to the world.

Having plucked the miniscule garment from the floor, Karenita held it in her hand, as he continued his diatribe: "Pet, I want no speech other than your gratified moans when I decide to penetrate you with my fingers or when one of our guests is permitted to see how you are doing at the centre of attention. Do the necessary, Karenita."

"The necessary sir?" Karenita looked up at him puzzled, her hand resting casually on the pet's bottom.

"Don't kneel there regarding me quizzically, girl," he sighed. "Your panties, her mouth, Capisce?"

"Yes sir."

"Subito, subito," he clapped his hands impatiently, eager to observe silk before him, face filled with mediteranean girl's lightly perfumed undergarment. "Now spank her hard, Karenita. Think of all the improprieties your mistress has visited upon you as you pinken her posterior."

And Karenita duly obliged laying into silk's elevated arse with such gusto that you could see the hand prints after each strike to the young woman's rear. And Karenita was as inventive as a man could want, her hand pressing silk's back down, forcing her arse up to present itself to the flat of the young serving girl's palm.




No Compunction



She didn't limit herself to the buttocks either, but let her hands play up and down silk's thighs leaving an indecorous trail of hand prints from lower thigh to arse. Then she pressed her mistress's arse down forcing her to splay her legs and show off her sex, for that was not to be spared either.

No, Karenita intended to slap that pretty pudendum as hard as it deserved, making silk twist away despite her training, particularly when karenita's rings caught the fragile labial lips and grazed the excitable clitoral bud, just as Karenita's clever tongue would do once she had tired of this game.

And silk knew just how clever that tongue was: she had felt it in her pussy and her derriere on numerous occasions, when the master was away. It lingered there in her thoughts as her arse was pounded and made her spread even more eagerly when her cunt was assaulted by the enthusiastic Italian girl.

"That's enough Karenita. And you, silk, keep looking down. Later I will want you to recall the patterns in the gravel made by your impatient shiftings. Then you can tell me exactly how you felt when you looked down and saw your movements reflected back at you, knowing that movement during discipline can only mean repetition of that discipline later."

"Mpphh."

"Remember, this is only the start of the entertainment. I have transactions to settle and you have guests to please in your inimitable way."

"You can listen to the conversation flowing around you as you attract the attention of ladies and gentlemen. You may please both the gentlemen and the ladies. No, don't blush -- I know you know how you love it."

"Give me her evening bag, Karenita. Ah -- here it is -- that little brush you keep for these occasions of ours. Head down, girl. Arse up. That's it -- lean the side of your face against the floor. Feel the contrast of cool sharp gravel and smooth warm cheek; the difference between soft backside and hard curling brush. I love the way your rosebud yields as Karenita screws it into you: such a clever servant and such a lovely fitting..."

"Hmmm...mmm"

"But it's a shame you couldn't fit your paddle brush in this little bag, isn't it, silk? No -- don't try to speak or move your head. Just enjoy the feeling in your gut, as I press the rounded handle right into your arse: quite dry and very tight -- why, you are a girl of such interesting opportunities tonight..."

"I don't want anyone availing themselves of your special place for the present and there are some rather ambitious lady dominates here -- judging by the sizes of the various toys they would present to your exquisite form..."

"Still they can have that pussy of yours. You do so like the thought of some nasty, cruel lady using you here, don't you? You can almost feel her nails raking your back as she thrusts into you over and over again. And don't think that your soft teats will be protected from her ravages."

"Perhaps she may have a submissive of her own to lick you wet again when she is done and apply a balm to your scratched breasts, before the next gentleman or less than gentle lady is upon you. After all you haven't been used in a good while have you, young lady? No, there is no need to respond..."

"Let us show your man just how you need to be used -- hard and often is a phrase that comes to mind. Oh -- didn't you know I'd invited him. Here let me help you observe him -- he's over at the bar now -- let me just tug that dirty brunette mane of hair up -- there -- do you see him?" 

"How long do you think he has been watching you prepare for this and jut what is he thinking about now, seeing you like this, your clothing scattered, two of your precious holes filled and a third about to be plundered by a most disobliging lesbian?"

"Don't shake your head, pet. And that tear forming in your eye -- is it remorse, anxiety, trepidation or just the humiliation you sought? You thought that they would occasionally dip their fingers into you, didn't you? 

Did you imagine yourself to be some kind of party dip? You should have remembered that some guests will always be greedy and take virtually all the garnish." 

"They scoop it up on their spoons without so much as a by-your-leave and rarely think of saving anything for anyone else. I have to tell you -- the scoop that she intends to use -- no -- don't turn your head to look -- staring is rude -- will garnish your sex with some difficulty."

"Well enough tarrying here. I ought to be about my business: people to meet; deals to do. Stay in position and remember to arch your back obligingly each time they thrust home won't you." 

"And pet, I really do not want to hear ill-reports of your non-compliance later. Do you understand, silk? Yes, you may nod. I will leave the leash next to the couch." 

"Karenita will know just where to find me later and will bring you to me, knowing that whatever else you owe me I will have no compunction in taking it..."