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Penance

By: Syndie



I awake to the sound of the front door closing, my husband has gone to work, I am all alone in the house. I roll over, stretching out across the bed , my eyes barely focused. The sun streaks through the vertical blinds, making a prison like pattern on the wall across from me, which is quite fitting; as if the sun knows that today is the day I must pay from my crime. All things considered, I am quite lucky to have such a compassionate Master; He recognized my honesty in coming forth, admitting that I had pleasured myself without his permission. My punishment...well, it is poetic.

Reaching over the right side of the bed, opening the top drawer of the dresser within my reach, I pull out the items needed for my penance and place them on the black Egyptian cotton sheets. Returning my head to the pillow, my mind drifts, a feeling of warmth and relaxation fills my being and causes my hands to drift. My delicate fingers travel lightly across my naked flesh, causing a shiver that seemingly begins from within my soul. My large nipples begin to awaken as it washes over me, my fingers pulling them taunt, letting them snap back before moving on. The tips of my blood-red nails barely graze my skin as I purposely tease myself. The chills I'm sending throughout causing my nipples to ache, my sex to moisten.

Sighing deeply as my fingertips reach the shaved, tender flesh of my pussy. Without hesitation I part the folds of my being and rub my clit, finding it swollen and accepting of the torture I am about to put myself through. Soft moans escape my lips as I dip the middle finger of my right hand into the warmth and wetness of my core. Engulfing my finger instantly in a pool of heat, my minds eye sees Him, feels Him as he teasingly goes so very deep, only to withdraw fully. I mirror His playful actions, feeling my desire increase. His words come to me at once, I must follow through with His commands, I must seek solace for my crime.

Turning to the side I grasp them, feeling them roll in the palm of my hand. Grabbing the AstroGlide I lube them lightly, knowing my bodies own lubrication will help them along. I take a deep breath as I roll onto my stomach, the softness of the sheets caressing me as I place the first white bead to the opening of my most tender and special hole.

My mind falls back to Him, the vision of myself tied to the bed posts, legs spread, ass high. the touch of His hands on my shapely hips, moving across my cheeks spreading them, pressing the beads in painstakingly slow, following each with His finger, assuring that they are as deep as possible. I do the same. Groaning from the pressure as each bead passes through my ring until the 5th bead is in place.

I clench my ass, feeling my inner workings pull them together, the pull ring on the tip of the string hanging obscenely between the crack of my ass as I roll over onto my back. I lay momentarily, thinking of Him and His orders, praying I will be able to fulfill them. Its time. Grabbing my vibrator, turning it on with just a flick of a button, hearing the whirring of the motor as I lower it between my waiting lips, driving it deep in one quick motion. Oh the sensation, the pleasure instantaneous. I can feel the beads on the other side of the thin piece of tissue that divides pain and pleasure and yet combines them both.

Laying there , whorishly filled as I begin rubbing my clit, hard and ferociously. Moaning loudly, my left hand pumping the vibe in and out of my aching pussy. Breathing deeply, each inhalation drawing in the scent the room, the faint aroma of the candles I had burned last night, the strong smell of my urgency, my sex, my torture.

I can feel His eyes burning into me from afar, as if He can see me at this very moment, the intensity in them, the crude look of satisfaction He has from my self-inflicted agony. My pussy threatens to burst, the beginning waves of release slowly nearing as I turn onto my knees. My ass high, the string dangling , the vibe shoved so deep that the muscles inside of me are the only reason it stays put.

Reaching between my thighs I grab the ring around my left index finger, tugging, groaning from the pressure as I slowly let the first bead out. My cunt dangerously contracting, my moans loud as I rock, squeezing my walls quickly, feeling as if some spiritual entity is fucking me; I tug again, the second bead pushes its way out.

My knees threaten to give, visions of Him enfolding between my closed eyelids, His sneer as He sees me lose focus. I shake the feeling, regaining the courage to move on. My hand rubs across my clit now that the string is longer, each motion pulling the string tighter, my body rocks faster, the third bead is set free.

Oh God, you have no idea the wondrous sensations I feel throughout. I drop the ring, needing to attend to my throbbing clit, pinching and tugging; rubbing it harder and faster until I feel myself tense. My back arches high, as I pull the forth bead from the confines of my dark hole. My moans turning obscenely into animalistic growls of pleasure knowing I'm about to ....

There are His words, hitting me like a ton of bricks ' Bring yourself to that point, but do NOT release..You know your orders little one".

My hand drops, my body heaving with each breath, grinding my hips until the waves rush back as if the gravity of the Earth has withdrawn them. Taking a deep breath, my fingers begin their task again; working rhythmically over my sensitive clit.

Bucking wildly on my knees, my face contorted into a mask of deep ecstasy as my pinkie gets caught up in the ring of the beads. The vibrator whirling in my hole, moving deeper with each motion , I know its not long before I will give into its demands.

My mind is reeling, lost in the intensity; gasping for air as the release nears. My skin glistening with perspiration, never before have I experienced such a burning lust. My clit aches from the assault, my ass clenched tight, not wanting to release the remaining bead.

Its too much to handle, my trembling body gives in; my fingers move furiously. My cunt spasms around the vibe and just when I feel the gates open I pull hard, ripping the last bead from my tight puckered hole and scream as I fall into a state of overwhelming passion unlike anything that could be put into words.

My entire being emanates forth a surge of ecstasy, losing myself in my minds eye; seeing Him and all His beauty as I drown in the moment. The force pushes the vibrator out and it falls onto the sheets as I do, collapsed in a drenched pool of my desire.

I lay there spent, for what seems like an eternity before opening my eyes. Glancing at the wall I see the sunlight's bars of confinement have gone and my day has now begun. I am forgiven.

Penance



Your gift to your Master is obeisance
Most attractive is your complaisance
His gift to you, the knowledge, at your core
That you are a slave, ever more.
What begins as rape becomes a dance
In ecstasy, you shall beg for your chance
To be a woman, in his arms surrender
His wants, his needs, forefend never hinder.
What the free woman can never realize
The slave she only deigns to despise
Knows a freedom far greater when the fire burns
To please and be pleased without guilt, she learns.
I am a slave, anon and forever, without regret,
My Master awoke my slave belly, I shall never forget.

I entered the smoky tavern at my Master's side, the silver chain held loosely in his fist dangling between us, as clear a sign as my red silk shift that I was his property. I padded beside him on all fours, the cool metal of the silvery links brushing against my bare shoulder, tightening the grasp of the leather collar at my throat, then loosening, as we continued apace toward a table at the center of the room. The tinkling of the leash was lost amongst the greetings of the men already drinking and taking their pleasure of the serving girls, but I heard every sensual note.

My Master took a seat opposite another man, but I dared not look up to venture a glance at his companion, for I had not been given leave. His boots looked familiar, however, and his musky masculine scent was redolent upon the air, blending with the smells of ale and leather and sex to craft a cologne to set all the senses to whirling. I knew him, for my Master had sent me to him for discipline once, and only once; Javin had a heavy, cruel hand, and I had dreamed, in both dread and delight, of future encounters with him.

I sat up, balanced on my heels, at my Master's command, and greeted the burly slave master demurely, "Good evening, Lord Javin."

His answering smile was predatory. "Good evening, whore," he rumbled, extending a rough hand to brush against my cloth-covered breast. "I hear you have been a naughty slave, perhaps I shall own you at last."

I did not shy away, for his touch was a welcome caress after my Master's long denial. He had been punishing me, and it had been very effective; he had disdained to touch me, seeking the company of other red silks for the past seven days, while I was chained to the wall and forced to watch. His cruelty had made me burn with desire and envy and, most powerfully, remorse, even as the other girls had shrieked and writhed beneath him, and I knew now that such arrogance as I had permitted myself would never fall from my lips again. Yet I had thought, when my Master had collared and chained me this night that my discipline was at an end. Was I now to be lent to Javin, or worse yet, sold to him, to become a hearth and kettle slave for some unimaginative smith's son? I dared not speak, but in my heart, I pleaded silently for a reprieve from such a fate. Forgiveness could not be begged for, only earned; had my contrition been enough?

Wordlessly, my Master unfastened my leash, laying the shimmering length of chain upon the table. Lifting my head briefly for his permission, I saw his slight nod, and I began my way across the noisy pub. Men watched my progress, knowing that the red silk meant I was a passion slave, available for their pleasure, if only they could negotiate an adequate arrangement with my Master. One even stopped me, reaching out to grab my auburn braid, drawing me up sharply beside him. "What is your price, slut?" he inquired, and I shall confess it, lest my Master accuse me of being untruthful in this narrative, his drink-roughened voice sent a shiver through me, and my heart began to race. 

"Five hundred shefia for a night, my Lord," I answered promptly, in a dulcet tone I hoped he would find pleasing. If my Master would not have me, perhaps at least I could bring him fortune, and quell the need that raced through me, if only for a brief instant, for I knew that until I rode upon the wave of my Master's oft-brutal desire, I could never truly be sated. Nonetheless, I ventured a glance upward, wide-eyed innocence in my emerald gaze, and a saucy smile of promise upon my lips. As quickly, I lowered my head, but not before I'd caught a glimpse of the handsome young man who contemplated my flesh.

The stranger grunted, and released me with a gentle push; I wonder if the free women, how strange they called themselves thus when I saw how desperately they yearned for what I, a slave, possessed, knew just how much the passion slaves were respected, and well-treated. A man might bed his wife once, to bring forth a child, but it was with his "girls" that he took his pleasure most nights. A free Mistress could never truly know what it meant to be a woman.

I hurried on, fielding a few more questions before I reached the bar, a beautiful piece of art fashioned from the shell of some great sea creature. I rose, then, to accept the mug of rich, dark ale the bartender already had waiting for me. My Master would settle the account later, Varin didn't need to worry about that. Bowing to the bartender, I traversed the tavern once more, to kneel beside my Master still holding the mug. I pressed its cool surface to my breasts, and then, lifting my simple silk shift, brushed the rim of the mug between my legs. Finally, I raised the drink to my lips, and took a sip; though my Master said not a word, I knew he watched on.

Finally, he growled a question, and my breath quickened, "What do you desire most, slave?"

Lifting the mug, I answered, "That you would accept my gift, and allow me to dance for you, Master."

I heard Javin's chuckle, and I felt my cheeks redden. Though I had not been given permission to show it, both men knew that a fire raged within me, a tumultuous blaze that could only be damped by one thing.

The mug was taken from my hands, and my Master granted my other plea with one harsh command, "Dance!"

And dance I would. Rising in one fluid motion, I flounced away from the table, as though my Master and his companion were of no further consequence to me. Head high, expression haughty, eyes smoldering with contempt for all around me, I moved to the fire, swaying before it, my back to all of the men who had quieted to watch. I lifted a hand, freeing my auburn hair to spill over my shoulders with a negligent gesture. My hair cascaded to my waist, stirred gently by the crackling blaze before which I preened, an arrogant, and free, woman. I pirouetted slowly, as though considering my reflection in a nonexistent mirror, then turned back to the fire. I bowed to it, lifting my shift to let its welcome warmth brush against my naked thighs. As I turned to the crowd, I dropped the hem of my simple dress back into place, smoothing it primly, denying them, with that simple gesture, any pleasure of me.

Conversation had resumed; they ignored me, as I pretended to ignore them, heedless of their covert glances, or so I chose to appear. Now I began to move, a languid, faltering step, as a young woman who was uncertain of her desire might move, torn between the demands of her culture to be free and in control, and the yearning of her body to release its tethers to propriety. I slid my hands down my sides, pausing to run my fingers shyly over my breasts; a quick exclamation, as my own touch stirred something in me, something the prim and proper lady could never acknowledge. I turned away from the crowd, lowering my eyes so they could not see what I wanted, for they must never know, and I moved about the edge of the room, the silk tight across my breasts, clinging to my ass, its silken caress stirring the inferno that was raging inside me. 

It was my Need Dance, my last, desperate plea to my Master, to tell him just how much I loved him, how urgently I needed his touch. Whatever he asked of me to prove this truth, I would grant, and I could only hope that my seductive playfulness would earn his favor. Everyone in the room knew what I was about, and I could not know, until the dance concluded, if I had been effective in my display of passion.

I came to the door that led from this place, and I bowed to it, as I had to the fire, brushing my lips to the brass knob, thanking it for the freedom it offered me. Somewhere a drum began to sound, or perhaps it was the racing of my heart, but no, the tempo was, for the moment, slow and soft. I turned to the crowd once more, and this time, as I swayed before them, I looked desperately into their eyes, hoping that one would favor me. But no, not even my Master would acknowledge his recalcitrant slave.

I spun from the door, then, toward the center of the room, and the drum's cadence increased, mocking the uncertain girl who was captive of her passions. I twirled and spun, lifting my shift to reveal my tight ass, and the proof of my desire rife between my thighs. I was bare of fur, for a Master should always be able to see his slave's need if he desired. I clenched my fists, then let my hands fall open, flinging both arms up and above my head, breasts jutting out, full and pendulous, the nipples taut against the red fabric. I let one hand drop to my side, flinging the other out toward the crowd, beckoning them. I flung my head back, gazing up toward the heavens, lips parted in sensual invitation. I stepped forward slightly, then flung my left leg out straight. As my foot returned to the stone floor, I plucked a flower from the hair of a barmaid who was scurrying from my path. I raised the pretty blue rose to my lips, closing my mouth around it for a moment, my movements rapturous now. I then released it, unharmed, and slid its silky petals across my throat, my fingers grazing the collar I wore so proudly.

Now, frantic for attention, as I portrayed the gradual transformation from freedom to slave, my hips began a slow gyration of their own accord. Back arched, I presented my need for all to see, swaying to the beat of the drum. I danced, thus, about the room, till I reached the bar, where I flung one leg over the cold shell of some long-dead monster, grinding against it in wanton abandon. When no one rose to claim me, I flung myself from it in disgust, once again smoothing my gown into place. The drum fell silent, and I walked toward an empty table, seeking to claim it. What did I need of such visceral pleasures, my stance and movements seemed to say. I am a free woman. I sat on the edge of the table, my arms crossed over my breasts, my legs together, and looked defiantly out at the crowd. A serving girl came by, offering me a glass of fine wine, and I accepted it, sipping delicately of the amber liquid. I held the pose for an instant, then two, before flinging the glass away from me, to shatter upon the floor. 

 Grabbing the hem of my shift, I leapt to stand upon the table, drawing the simple garment over my head in one fluid movement. I held the cloth between my hands, as I spun, all pretense of disinterest gone now. I was bare of all but my Master's collar, and the star-shaped brand upon my thigh, and I was free, free to serve. Once again I arched my back, running the silk between my breasts, cupping each upon a sea of crimson cloth, rolling each nipple between my fingers. Though my breasts were not large, my flesh was fair, and my nipples were long and dark, pointing upward in mute testimony to my desire, the need I had allowed to build inside me. I slid a hand between my legs, plucking at my clit, twisting it roughly, before dipping two fingers abruptly into my pussy, and beginning a slow, sensual grind, plunging deeper and deeper till my wrist was pressed tightly against my naked mound. My thumb teased that sensitive nub, and my juices flowed freely, glistening upon my thighs. I danced, cavorting upon the table, drawing all eyes toward me as I gave voice to my yearning. I allowed my moans, my soft cries, to fill the room as I tended the flames. When I was certain I had their attention, I drew the silk slowly downward, along my belly, over my ass, teasing them with the dress I had worn but moments before. Finally, I straddled it, rubbing shamelessly against the sensual material. When I bent one leg, falling motionless at last, and pulled the silk free, it was damp with my nectar. I lifted it to my lips, inhaling deeply of my scent, and allowed my tongue to dart out, savoring my taste upon the cloth. 

After a moment, I lifted the dress, bunched it up into a strip, and wound it about my head, till it bound my eyes tightly; deftly, I knotted the makeshift blindfold into place, and sprung up once more. 

With a heartfelt cry, I spun three times, and then leapt from the table, uncertain of my fate. When I felt strong arms around me, pressing me tightly against a muscular frame, I knew that I had succeeded. Roughly, I was shoved to my knees, and the musky scent of male flesh told me what was waiting. There was nothing of vanity or reluctance in me now, my transition was complete, a transformation I found myself grateful for every day of my life. With a kittenish cry of glee, I pounced on the offered prize, closing my lips about an unknown cock, till my cheeks were puckered with the intensity of my kiss. I lapped along the underside, taking in the scent and flavor of him, and knew it was not my Master. Yet the heat that churned within my slave belly seared so hotly that I could not, would not, allow that to halt me. Unfamiliar hands cupped my breasts, pinching wickedly upon my nipples, and I had been so ignored for the last week that I felt each new pain as though I were a virgin, this the very first rape. The man before me grabbed my head, lacing his fingers at the nape of my neck, and pushed my face down, burying himself in my tight throat. Willingly, I took him deep into me, suckling upon his shaft as though he were the very life I had craved. My cries of pain were muffled, merely sensual caresses running the length of his shaft as new indignities were inflicted upon me. Strange hands cupped my ass, and two fingers were thrust into my pussy, buried to the wrist in my moist, velvety depths. Rumbles of laughter, and the murmur of renewed conversation surrounded me, while my head bobbed up and down, my frantic suckling a sensual counterpoint to the clink of glasses and the flurry of insults hurled at me.

"She is not but a tavern whore," someone cried. "We shall all use her this night."

"Look at how she touches him," another marveled, as my hands cupped the stranger's balls, molding them beneath my fingers, squeezing gently, drawing him ever deeper. When I sensed his impatience, I increased the pace without being told, but still he took pleasure in forcing me down till my face was buried against his thighs, and I thought I should die for lack of breath. As questing fingers were withdrawn from my pussy, I felt another offering, the head of a cock brushed between my nether lips. I rose up a little, just in time to feel my captor's cock twitch, and his hot seed began pouring down my throat. I knew without being told that I would drink it all, for anything less would shame my Master and me alike.

With a lusty chuckle, he pulled from my mouth, and I licked the last bits of cream from his tip before he thrust me aside, into the arms of whoever was behind me. In one motion, he spun me around, and lifted me from my feet, pressing me back against the wall. I flung my legs around his waist, and gripped his shoulders tightly as he sheathed his cock inside me. I gave a cry of delight, for I was slick and ready, and turned my head slightly, resting my chin upon my shoulder for a moment, as I was lifted, flung upward upon his passionate thrust, and then falling toward oblivion as he began to withdraw. I could feel the sweat upon my forehead, and I knew I was flushed with need, but without my Master's permission, I would not be permitted to surrender.

The rough stone wall scraped against my back, and my hair swirled about me in a fiery cloud, as he took me with violent, unapologetic strokes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, along with my desperate cries. I was quivering, my whole body in tune with the music that played across my nerves, and the powerful fingers that gripped and twisted my nipple only added a new sweetness to the aching melody that sang through my flesh.

Through my blindfold, I could see nothing of my rapist, but his touch was firm as he guided me upon his cock, and I was the wanton whore I'd once feared to become, my hips grinding against him in a dance that had become intuitive. His breath against my cheek, his bruising grip upon my thigh, the hand that released my nipple, leaving it to the cold, each commanded me, and in turn, they were my undoing. I began to beg, for all the room to here, "Please, please, let me come. Oh, please, Master."

For a moment, there was nothing but the pounding of his shaft inside me, and then, from a long distance away, I heard my Master's voice, "Cum for me, slave."

I had hoped it was he who had me upon his cock, and now I was not certain that I could surrender to this stranger. Perhaps sensing my doubt, he leaned forward, biting at my shoulder as he thrust into me time and again. Convulsively, my legs tightened about him, till I was only a blur of writhing, twisting girl-slut, swaying upon his cock. With a cry, I began to tremble, my breasts heaving as I felt release overwhelm me. "Thank you, thank you," I kept saying to the stranger, and he only chuckled, as he withdrew from my quivering depths, his cum striking my belly in hot, ropey jets, spilling over my thighs as he dropped me in a boneless heap upon the floor.

I could only groan, still in the throes of a pleasure I had not thought I would be granted, but new hands were upon me before I could catch my breath. Two men caught me between them, and I was once again lifted free of the floor. They impaled me simultaneously, and my shriek was one of despair, not for their rough treatment, but because I knew I could not hold another orgasm in abeyance for long. Once I began to cry so openly, I couldn't stop, and my ecstatic pleas brought more laughter, and I could hear the jingling of coins. I rose and fell, bounced from one shaft to the other, my body desperate for more. When they both plunged into me, I thought they would tear me apart, with only a thin bit of flesh in my innermost places keeping them apart. I clung to them, oblivious and uncaring of their identities. My nipples were bruised, turning purple from their attentions, and I knew there were teeth marks in my shoulders, and fresh scratches across my belly, but each little torment only added to my need. I could not look for my Master, but I knew he was watching, and I freely gave of myself, tempting them to ever greater brutality.

They withdrew from me in unison, as abruptly as they had claimed me, and I begged them to fill me once more. They only laughed, forcing me to my knees, and each shot hot, sticky seed into my face, and over my breasts. My tongue darted out, catching every drop I could, and as they abandoned me, I rubbed their cream into my aching nipples, across my sensitive scratches, until I was spread with their provender. 

Not yet done was I; strange hands and strange cocks claimed me in quick succession, and I shall never remember all of that night. One man grabbed me and threw me across a table. I felt rough leather rubbed across my back, and I knew that his desire was to beat me. And true enough, the crop rose and fell, spreading a gradual heat from my shoulders to my ass. It was not for my pleasure that he struck each blow, however, and even when my cries filled the night, and I pleaded with him that I could take no more, his crop rose and fell, until I was quivering with my sobs. The men whistled and cheered, as though they thought I deserved this punishment. When the blows finally ceased, and a gentle hand brushed my ass, I surrendered yet again, adrift on a sea of ecstasy, for I knew it was my Master's touch.




Penance



What follows is a true story. Names have been omitted to protect the anonymity of those involved. 

----------------------------------------

The details of my experience with X have never come into full and sharp focus, so deep was the pool of alcohol and despair I had immersed myself in at the time. Moments of specific memories penetrate through that flat cloud here and there with obvious gaps in time. Who knows what happened in between or lead up to what? Maybe he does...

Those memories are like brief movies I can play over and over until I squirm in my seat, cringing and suffocating under the burdening and repeated question: Why?

There are no excuses someone like me can offer to counter the things I've done. Only explanations, and don't take them as apologies because they're not. I can't even say that I'm sorry for what I've done. I can't say that I regret any of it, no matter what it's done to someone else.

Now I'll tell you that above all else, I feel guilt. Is it possible to feel guilt but not regret? I feel guilt the way a pervert feels bad for reaching up a pretty girl's skirt. Sure it was wrong, but I enjoyed it so much. I stalked my prey and he was a sacrifice to the coming transition in my life. For five years I had felt more and more powerless in my life. I weeded him out as a weakling in the group of men at my cold disposal.

In the nights preceding my depravity I would lie in bed alone and feel the rising pressure inside. I had no desire to control that chaotic energy that would surely suck in any hapless person who came too close. Looking back I feel ashamed by how easily I found him, cornered him, and dangled the bait until he reached out to me, within reach to be snatched up and devoured.

It took very little effort and no time to draw him in. The first night we watched a movie all the way through and then his mouth found mine. Wriggling away, I stretched out on the floor in the dark. Soon his hands were all over me, spreading my legs and plunging his fingers into my dripping cunt. I screamed out over and over that night as his hand worked furiously inside me, pulling out to rub open palmed over my erect clitoris. I humped my hips back against his hand, gripping his shoulders tight and tossing my head from side to side. My mind exploded with need, I thought I would set the whole city on fire, but I did not cum. 

The night was such a blur. He wanted me to suck his cock but I refused, laughing. "Why should you get what YOU want?" I teased. He had refused to penetrate me with his cock. Deciding to remain sexually celibate, he hadn't been with a woman for over ten years. He wanted a romantic relationship before sex. Yet he wanted to fuck my mouth. The idea was laughable. I bared my teeth in a sadistic grin that was invisible to him in the darkness of his house.

I stayed at his place that night but slept alone on the couch. I refused to share his bed. I wanted to be alone. I told him I didn't like sharing the space where I slept. 

I didn't see him until days later. I spent the night again and we woke up in bed together, naked under the sheets. Relatively chaste despite our nudity, he had only used his hands on me the night before. In the morning sun he stirred and gazed into my eyes for a while before slowly rolling over and positioning himself between my legs, mounting me without saying a word. Reaching down he grabbed his cock and placed the head of his erection against the entrance of my pussy.

I watched his eyes as he thrust his hips forward tentatively. I saw the reflection of his morals and the deep meaning he felt was present between us as his cock sank deeper into my cunt. His eyes widened as I gasped and spread my legs wider, giving way to his penetration. I couldn't bring myself to hold him as he started to thrust, his shaft dragging past the lips of my vagina. Abandoning his resolve and morals, he began to fuck me, needing the wetness of my cunt and the gasps that were forced from my lips with each thrust. I was fascinated feeling this unknown cock nestled inside my body, pushing deep with a sigh from his lips and pulling out slowly, as if he had forgotten sex. 

He stopped before he came. I knew he would expect more from me now. He would want love and romance.

I sucked his cock in the darkness of his office that night. Illuminated by dimmed computer screens he stood while I gripped his shaft in one hand and sucked, dragging my lips over his length and head. He groaned about how good it felt and I suppressed a laugh. He sounded so polite. "Suck my cock. That feels so very nice." Vulgar and dainty at the same time; I thought about raising a pinky while I fucked him with my mouth. 

I stared forward into the blurry darkness of his pubic hair, my tongue flattened to lick the length of his penis as I bobbed my head back and forth. It wouldn't be until later in the daylight that I would see the deep pores at the base of his curled hairs, or the odd crooked head of his cock. 

He kept tensing and nearly shuffling his feet as I sucked and pumped him harder. I knew he was afraid to cum. He was afraid to be rude even as he ached to grab a fistful of my hair and pump his hips into my face, choking me with his cock as he exploded hot cum down my throat. 

I pulled my mouth off of his swollen cock and stared up into the glittering of his eyes. I squirm now recalling my voice, tortured and low, the stereotype Venus begging like a whore. I told him I wanted his cum. His eyes widened at my words "Really?" he breathed. The quickest way to a man's jugular is through his cock.

Without another word, I seized his shaft in my hand and sucked his length into my mouth, pumping and licking. His moaned longer and louder, his breath coming in gasps as he tentatively reached out to put his hand on the back of my head. Carefully he gripped my hair. I moaned. He thrust his hips, emboldened by my demands for his cum. He jackhammered his cock into my mouth in short rapid thrusts. My lips felt numb. "I'm coming." He choked through whimpering gasps. I pulled my mouth away and pumped hard with my wet hand. His cock began to jerk and spasm as I arched my back. Arches of jism splattered against my tits as I pumped him, milking every last drop from him before he shuddered with overstimulation and pulled away.

The next night he sat underneath me as I gripped the back of the couch, shoving my breasts in his face as I fucked him. Over the top of his head, I looked around the room as his tongue licked at my hard nipples. I ground my pussy on him, jerking my breasts away from him to arch my back and spread my legs wider, sinking as far down on his shaft as I could. Harder and faster I whipped back and forth on his lap as he held on to my hips, staring down at my crotch under the thatch of hair where the base of his cock could be seen in glimpses, glistening with my juices. He seemed unable to look away, unable to stop watching a woman take his body for her own pleasure. As if I was putting our sex on display, I rose off of his shaft and plunged back down the whole length, letting him see his cock splitting open the entrance of my hot pussy. My skin flushed as my stretched pussy lips tugged the hood over my clitoris each time I pulled off of him and sank back down. 

His face was red and he glanced at me quickly before looking away. I knew it was too intense for this seemingly pious man. It was like fucking a priest. I laughed and groaned at the idea, sinking down hard and grinding against him again, feeling his penis rock back and forth against the walls of my cunt. My fingers were like talons as I gripped the fabric of the couch, gasping as my pussy began to spasm, my over stimulated clit rubbing hard against him. 

He watched me with wide eyes as I fucked myself to orgasm on his cock. As I came down, I couldn't relax; he had to nearly pry me off of the couch. Lifting me off his erection, he directed me to lie down on the floor. 

I lay back and let him spread my legs. Kneeling before me, his erection bobbed before he grabbed it and pushed deep into my cunt with one thrust. I raised my knees up against either side of him and felt the roughness of the carpet burn against my skin with each thrust from his hips. He began to pound harder and harder, the juices from my cum letting him slip rapidly in and out of the folds of my pussy. Through the haze of alcohol and breathless gasps for air as he rested his weight on me, I felt a sharp pain inside me. 



His hard thrusts began to slow but deepen and I cried out each time. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, he grabbed my face and thrust deep into me again "Look at me." He demanded. I did. Wincing, I watched his face contort as he pounded his orgasm into me, his cock swelling and spasming in release into my body. I gasped for air and blinked away a stinging in my eyes I later realized was his sweat. He pulled out and I had bled on his floor. I stumbled to the bathroom to clean myself up. 

He cleaned the spot on the floor and dressed me in a bathrobe. He seemed worried and I was embarrassed. 

The guilt increases when I recall those moments and his genuine concern for me. I felt so in control and yet without even the weakest grip on life, knowing how he felt and resenting him for abandoning his own morals in an attempt to change mine. He wanted to fuck me into loving him. I wanted to control something in life. 

I had to heal for a day or two, and he satisfied himself by rubbing my clit having me suck him off. One morning he held my legs open and made me cum again and again with his fingers. I squirmed against him or kneeled before him. 



One of our last nights together I was on my knees, my chest pressed into the cushions of his couch as he sank his cock into me from behind. It felt good. It hurt. He was so much longer than I was used to. 

I took each thrust like a deserved punishment for my wickedness. He plunged in, pressing hard against me as if he wanted to restrain me with his cock alone. I swear that night he knew that his tactic hadn't worked. He knew I wouldn't love him and I wouldn't stay. The grip on my hips felt cruel. My mouth gaped as I cried out each time it hurt. I stared blindly forward at the seat of the couch until he pulled me back towards him, up against his chest. Still thrusting in and out, he licked my shoulder and gripped my breasts hard in his hands. His stubble was like sand paper against my neck as he licked my skin and hissed against my ear "You like this?" He seemed to demand it more than ask. My head dropped forward as I tried to escape his hot breath, I weakly nodded as he thrust deep. He gripped me hard, almost shaking me as he pumped in and out. Reaching around he roughly pinched my clit "You like feeling my dick up in you, don't you baby?" Between my legs his cock slid easily in and out, drenched in my wetness. 

"Yes!" I cried as if it was a confession. Guilt. Admission. I was his whore. He should have paid me for this fuck, for how much it meant in my heart. He pounded against my ass so hard and fast my repeated cries became one near scream. Unable to escape his punishing thrusts, I took each one, vaguely wondering if he would make me bleed again. As my pussy tightly gripped his shaft, I could feel the detail of his penis as he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back into my dripping pussy. With his cock slamming into me, he dug his nails into my hips and roared an orgasm into me as I screamed in pain. The head of his penis pressed hard against my cervix, grinding against my tender flesh as he gasped and whimpered behind me. I stayed still, almost obedient, accepting every drop of his cum as its heat washed my sore insides. He continued to pump his hips slow and slower until he came to a stop, hinging his hips against my ass, his cock curved and twitching inside me as I trembled. 

 My jaws had snapped down, clamped down on him. It was barely a chase. Barely a challenge. This pious man who wore pants so tight it was suppression in itself fucked me like a whore on the floor of his house. This man who liked to be in control of a quietly lived life had knelt on the floor and buried his face between my legs, licking my pussy to orgasm and would do it again if I demanded. 

 I reached out to him. Held him close. Kissed him. Fucked him. Laughed as I snapped the neck of his resolve. Conquered and left. And again now I squirm in my seat. 



Penance



He drew me to my feet, tearing the blindfold away. "Whose slave are you, my whore?" he asked.

"Yours, my Master," I said through my tears, and his smile was reward enough for all I had endured.

He received several offers for me that night, each greater than the last, but always his answer was, "You have tasted of her charms, but she is mine forever."

His pride in me was evident in his voice, as he had a serving girl bring me wine and a bit of food, and I knew that there was no place I'd rather be.

This is a slave's tale. If you doubt me, and think that I am weak because I let others control me, know that the strongest women often know a lack in their lives. Tomorrow, I will walk in the marketplace, a renowned guildmistress, and no one will think to question me, because I hold much sway here. But tonight, I am a slave. All that I do is for my Master, whether it is upon my knees, a plaything he enjoys, or wielding the crop as I train his slaves, or bargaining for my craft amongst powerful nobles.



Penance



I.

Her heart thumped against her ribs and her body trembled as Master pulled into the driveway. She opened the door and greeted Him, emptying His arms of the bags of groceries He had picked up on His way home. She tried to keep her voice from shaking and the tears in check as she hurried to put things away. He changed out of His work clothes into something comfortable, then went to His chair.

She followed silently, kneeling to His left, praying He didn't notice her guilt. However, it was only moments before He asked her what was wrong, having taken stock in how timid she had been behaving. She cowered slightly and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to make herself smaller, invisible. Openly concerned now, He turned her face toward Him and asked again "precious, what is wrong?" 

His use of her pet name, precious, tore her in two as she sobbed and tried to tell Him what she had done, ever fearful of His anger, yet, too ashamed to keep it hidden from Him. Reaching inside the bodice of her dress, she withdrew the shreds of paper she had been hiding. It was a letter to Him from another. She had seen who it was from and torn it to shreds before she realized what she was doing. She wanted to burn it--to make it no longer exist, but somehow it would haunt her. She would be lying to not tell Him of what she had done, and that lie would grow and multiply into other lies, all in a vain effort to hide her disobedience. She never wanted to lie to Him--she never wanted to break their trust. But she already had by destroying the letter. Her heart ached and her throat felt crushed by the pain.

At first He was confused by her actions, then He realized what she was holding. His fury was instant. He knew what had driven her to do such a thing--the one thing He could not stand, jealousy. He maintained Himself and took the scraps from her, trying to piece together whom it was from. She managed to whisper the name; her eyes downcast, staring at her hands tightly clenched in her lap. She waited for Him to yell, to lash out, or worse . . . to send her away. She had been incapacitated by the fear that she had made her last mistake with Him. Not able to resume her daily chores, she sat with her head lying in His chair staring off into the Hell she had created for herself until He drove up. Now she waited for Hell to take her.

What was seconds seemed like hours to her as the silence stretched. Suddenly, He pulled her to His lap and held her against His chest. Any punishment He could think of, He realized, couldn't surpass what she had done to punish herself during the day. Not that He wouldn't, but He realized she needed some nurturing and reassurance first. Then she would get the punishment she deserved as a reminder that it wasn’t forgotten. He knew she would take her punishment without a whimper, and though she would be spending the night sleeping on her pad, hands and feet tied to the bedposts, He would spend the following day loving her back to the point where she faltered. She sobbed in relief as she felt His loving arms hold her tightly, finally realizing that they would be alright.

II.

She readied herself as she was told; naked except for the collar used during her punishments. It was three inches thick and made from heavy black leather. Rings were built in all around for a variety of bondage positions. It fit snugly, nearly preventing her from being able to look down. She knelt under the large, eyehooks in the middle of the room, hands resting in her lap, eyes downcast, and waited for Him to rig her punishment. 

He hung a single chain, 3/4 inch, doubled through the hook above her head. He then pulled her to her feet and bound her wrists together in thick leather cuffs; her ankles were strapped to a spreader bar. He ran the chain through the D-hook of the wrist cuffs and pulled her arms up until she was stretched nearly to tiptoeing. Then He placed a blind fold over her eyes and left the room.

She waited in the dark, straining to hear any hint of what He was about to do. But she heard only silence. Her mind played different scenarios of what may come to pass, some more brutal than others, which make her blood pound in her ears. In her heart, she knew that He would be fair: but that didn't mean it would be painless. 

Time stretched until she had no idea how long she had been hanging there. Her body was beginning to rebel by cramping here and there, causing her to have to shift often for relief. The jangling of the chains must have been His cue to return. She heard the door behind her open and shut. Then she felt His presence. However, He was completely silent.

He carried a small, soft suede flogger that had been modified with wooden beads added to some of the tails. He rarely used it but reasoned that the thudding and bruising effect of the beads carried more punishment than the sharp smack and sting she had grown to love. He walked up behind her and removed the blindfold. She sucked in her breath as the coolness of the beads drug slowly up her back. 

Just Him being near was enough to start the throbbing between her legs, but her mind snapped back to why she was here as soon as she felt the flogger connect with her back. His swing wasn't hard but the thudding of the beads against her already sore muscles were like pelting hailstones. A whimper escaped her throat, but she choked it short determined to take her punishment as it was handed down to her without complaint. The flogger rained slow and methodical across her back and thighs until her body warmed with the dull pain. Soon, she could not remember ever having felt anything but the dull ache that was now her body--her mind drifted and her body sagged against the restraints.

The sound of His voice snapped her back, "are you alright, precious?" 

"Yes, Master," she answered hoarsely. He pulled her back against Him and undid her wrist restraints murmuring, "you are such a good girl, precious" against her neck. Making sure she was steady, He knelt to free her ankles, then stood again behind her, wrapping His arms around her for support as she found her legs again. He rubbed her arms to speed the circulation and felt her quiver as the needles of pain woke her sleeping hands. 

Occasionally she winced as her muscles cramped against the soreness, causing Him to rethink making her sleep alone on her mat. She had done well to tell Him of her betrayal in the first place and had taken her punishment without protest. Holding her close, He led her to their bed and removed the punishment collar, then laid her down gently. She looked at Him questioningly, having expected to be separated from Him all night. But He undressed and slipped in beside her, molding her to His hard body, her head on His shoulder and one leg wrapped across His thighs. In the morning, after His "wake-up" call and her maintenance, He decided, He will relieve her sore muscles with a massage. And she, He mused, will relieve Him, again and again. She sighed contentedly and drifted to sleep. 

© Copyright 2001 °jéwél°. All rights reserved. 



Penance



I open my eyes as I lean back in my chair. There she is. Mary naked and beautiful. She is smiling up at me. I sit up and say, “Now for your penance. You cannot expect to confess such sexy hot stuff and not have to do penance.” 

I help her off her knees, God she is beautiful on her knees. She stands before me. I turn her away from me, “Lean over on the desk.” She leans over immediately. Her perfect ass is right in front of me. I reach up and run my hands over her ass. Mary moans softly. I smack her ass playfully. She knows this is just a tease for what is coming next. As I smack her ass with my open hand, she wiggles and moans with pleasure. 

I stand up. I pull up my pants. I step over to the closet. I start by pulling out a soft silk cloth. Mary has not moved from the desk. “Hands behind your back.” Immediately, she puts her hands behind he back forcing her to lay her weight on the desk. I tie her hands behind her back. Then I get two more cloths. “Spread your legs.” She opens her legs to me. By the time I tie her feet to the legs of the desk, she will have no choice as to how I will use her. After tying her legs to the desk, I run my hands up her legs. My fingers feeling the soft flesh of her inner thigh. I pull one more cloth out of the closet. I wrap this one around her head, covering her eyes. There she is. Mary naked, bound, blind, and mine. 

I sit down. She can hear the chair squeak a little. “Sir? What do you require of me?” She speaks softly.

“Shhh, don’t you worry. Your penance will be more pleasure than pain. And I assure you no other pastor would treat you with such respect.”

“I love my Pastor and Master,” she smiles as she speaks. I can hear the smile in her voice.

I spank her ass with my hand again. It feels so good in my hand. I spank her and rub her ass. After each smack with my hand I rub her ass feeling the heat grow. I pull my belt from around my waist. I scoot back a little and use the belt on her ass one cheek at a time. The “whack” sound is so clear. I love the way it sounds when I spank her. Mary moans, “O Fuck.” I begin spanking her harder. Red whelps begin to appear on that perfect ass. I stand so I can spank her outright. I pull my hand back far and let the belt fly across both cheeks. She winces a little cause these are much more forceful than the little spankings when I was sitting down.

“These you must count. These are not for your pleasure, these are for your sins.”

“One” Whack “Two” Whack “Three”

“Good girl”

Whack, “Four.” Whack “Five” These are forcefull enough that she should be crying, but she doesn’t cry. Her face is a face of pleasure. I know that pussy is growing wet. Whack “Six.” Whack “Seven.”

“You are a slut aren’t you”

“Your slut, and Your slut alone.”

“Good slut”

Whack “Eight.” Whack “Nine.” Whack “Ten.”

Then I turn so I can spank her pussy. I know she loves the way it feels when my belt goes up between her legs and slaps against her pussy and clit. I spank up to hit her pussy. “OHHH FUCK.” I spank that pussy soft and only a few times, but she is already trembling. She wants to cum. 

“Are you about to cum?”

“YES, I am cumming.” She knows she can cum at will unless otherwise instructed. “OHHHHH FFFUUUUKCCKKK.” Her body tenses. Her head throws back. She finally relaxes back onto the desk.

I sit behind her again. I push two fingers into her shaved smooth pussy. I push first my middle finger, then my ring finger. I begin to finger fuck her dripping pussy. She is so wet. I pull my fingers from her pussy and offer them to her mouth. She sucks them into her mouth. Her tongue works around my fingers licking up all her juices. “Thank you, Sir.” 

I put my finger back into her pussy, this time though, I let my pinkie finger slide up into her hood and begin using it to flick her clit. She immediately begins to cum again. My hand gets soaked. She moans and pushes against my fingers. I encourage her, “Cum for Me. Cum hard. Be a good slut and cum on my hand.” 

She doesn’t disappoint. As she begins to come down, I push my now wet index finger into her ass. “Holy FUCK,” she screams. I begin to move all four fingers, slowly up and down. Two moving in her pussy, one on her clit, and one in her ass.

“Don’t cum, slut. I don’t want to you cum again until my cock is filling your pussy.” I tease her and continue stimulating that beautiful ass and pussy. When I think she is going to burst, I pull my hand out of her. I stand and let down my pants. I slap her ass again, and then guide my cock into her pussy. I begin to fuck her. I slam into her pussy, causing her body to slam into the desk. I pull on the back of her hair, arching her back. I pull her into me as I push into that hot wet pussy. It doesn’t take long for her to cum again.

“OHHHHAA GGGHHHHHHUUUUU SSHHHHHHIIIITTTTT”

I pull out of her pussy and pull her back into the chair, she is still tied to the desk, but she can sit in the chair. I straddle her and shove my cock into her mouth. My cock is covered in her juices. I push into the back of her throat. She almost gags. I CUM. Fuck she is perfect. She doesn’t miss a drop. She then licks and sucks my cock and balls until she cannot taste any of her or my cum on me any more.

“Good slut,” I praise her. I untie her. And she then helps me dress, puts away all the cloths, and finally dresses her self. 

I kiss her mouth softly and longingly. She is so good. We both know she has to leave, but both of us are looking forward to next time.



Penance



I thought I'd found the right one - a Master who would treasure me as well as discipline me. I'd always been turned on by the thought of being owned by a strong and demanding man who would punish me if I failed to please him, and I'd loved letting him control and use me. I had loved learning how to please him. Then I began with the smart mouth comebacks. This need to test my limits was one of those character flaws my mother and my teachers had always complained about. 

I'd quickly learned that however amused he might be by my cheekiness he would still discipline me. My butt had been reddened more than once for flippantly asking what his last slave had died of or suggesting he get his own drink. After the punishment I'd tearfully promise him I would not let my smart mouth get me into trouble anymore. They were wasted words, because eventually I just had to voice one too many smart comments, accompanied by real hints of defiance. 

Finally, his usual tolerant amusement was obliterated by real anger. I have not forgotten the bruises he left on my throat as his hand pinned me against the wall or the dark savagery in his eyes. He'd let me go and stepped away. This time, he'd told me, I would learn that I was born to be a slave and then he'd left me alone in my apartment. 

At first I had been a little fearful, wondering what punishment he planned, but the days passed with no contact from him and I'd grown puzzled, then resentful. I'd been good for a while, waiting for the telephone call and hoping he wouldn't stay away too long. Then I decided he wasn't the right one for me. He should have known that abandoning me was not what I wanted. So, I'd done the unthinkable. I'd found another apartment well away from my usual haunts, asked the company boss if I could shift offices to be closer to the new place, and hidden where he wouldn't find me. Between bouts of lonely tears and cursing him for failing me I'd soothed myself with visions of him looking for me frantically without success. Now the emptiness was easier to bear and I hoped, in time, that I'd find another one who would give me what I wanted.

Opening the door of the apartment was easy, despite having a huge bunch of red roses in one arm. I hadn't been able to resist the dark crimson or the strong perfume as I headed home after work. It was one of those little treats I'd found useful to take my mind off the memories. Now such treats were almost a habit and always made me feel special.

I nudged the door closed behind me with one leg and froze. A large figure was standing at the window, staring out at the road below. I knew that shape intimately and recalled the cold rage in his face the day I had pushed our relationship too far. Now he was here, in my room. I had actually managed to make him really angry months ago and running away would have consolidated his rage into something far more dangerous. I couldn't hold back the desperate little yelp as the door clicked solidly shut and he turned to look at me. The roses tumbled to the floor as I dropped to my knees, eyes down and hands resting on my open thighs.

"Well, well. At least you still have some manners left," he sneered as he moved a couple of steps further into the room. 

"Get on your belly."

Wordlessly, I slid forward and assumed the position he commanded, fingers locked behind my neck, forehead on the floor. I could feel my heart hammering against the wooden floor as I listened to him walk slowly towards me and then walk around my prone body until he stopped near my head. If I squinted to look sideways I could just see the toe of one boot. I wondered how on earth he had found me. As if he was reading my mind he remarked conversationally, "Did you really think you could just disappear? That I wouldn't know where you were all the time?"

"No......yes........." In trying to answer his question I floundered meaninglessly. 

"I don't know why I bother. Be quiet." 

With that dismissive remark, he walked away and I heard the drawers in the kitchen open and close. I dared not look, but he was soon back, one leg on either side of my body. He dropped to his knees and one strong hand gripped the back of my T-shirt at the neck, pulling it towards him. I couldn't stop the squeak of panic as I felt cold steel touch my skin. He laughed and rested the blade against my skin so that I knew he did indeed have a knife in his hand. 

The T-shirt, pulled tight between my body and his hand, gave easily as the knife cut along the full length of the back. The point drifted back along my spine, like the fingernail of a cold dead hand, and he shifted his grip on the T-shirt to cut along the shoulders on both sides. My skirt also parted easily, the knife cutting it from waist to hem on one long movement. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to not whimper. Not that it would have mattered to him if I had whimpered, except perhaps to confirm that I was finally truly frightened of him. 

He shifted above me, but only to roughly rip first the remnants of the T-shirt and then the skirt from under my body. Swift cuts and a few hard tugs left me without bra or panties, lying naked on the floor. I struggled to keep my hands clasped, wrapping them around my neck with nose pressed to the floor as he had commanded. What if he noticed the final treachery I was trying to hide? 

The flat of the blade pushed under my hands and lifted them. Gently, with my palms unresistingly resting against the blade, he pressed the point against the back of my neck. I flinched as his other hand caressed my neck. His hand was warm, but my shame made me think that it burned like a brand against my skin. 

"My, my, no collar." 

His voice was deceptively pleasant. I felt sure he had known all along that I had removed the delicate collar he had placed there almost 6 months ago. I tried to bury my ultimate nakedness against the uncaring wooden floor, unable to prevent a low moan of fear. His hand moved around to the softness of my throat and cupped the slenderness against the point of the knife. 

"Stay very still, Princess. Don't move even an inch. I am very disappointed with you." 

His voice was calm as he removed his hand, along with the sharp tip of the knife. I heard him walk steadily away and the slight scrape of a chair before he dropped into it. The silence stretched as I lay there waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do next. The sweet smell of the roses scattered around me filled my nostrils and I wanted to explain that I shouldn't have been left alone without hearing his voice or feeling his touch. I wanted to tell him that I hadn't wanted to run away, but he had ignored me and I'd thought he didn't care enough to punish me. Yet the memory of the few months he had spent training me and my newfound fear kept me silent. He sighed and clicked his fingers. 

"Come here."

I started to crawl to him, but he stopped me with a sharp command to stay on my belly. The short distance across the floor seemed a long way as I dragged myself to him. Moving in this position I could not even show the swing of my breasts or the long line of my spine until it disappeared into the curve of my buttocks. It was clumsy and demeaning, highlighting his absolute displeasure with me. Finally, I lay with my cheek next to his boot, too ashamed to even risk a quick lick of the leather.

"Well, what am I to do with you?" 

The question was rhetorical. He continued with a quiet request for me to list my transgressions since he had seen me last. Stumbling over the words I began to whisper. 

"Start again and louder. I can't hear you."

Swallowing and trying to keep my voice clear, I began again, from the day he had told me I was a dilettante and he was not sure I was worth his efforts. My voice grew more wobbly as I recited first all of my anger at him because I thought he had abandoned me, and then my decision to pleasure myself because I had not heard from him, all leading to my plans to run away and the final act of taking off the collar I had invited him to place around my neck. 

The enormity of my actions filled me as I spoke and by the time I reached the end I was sobbing. He ignored me and let me cry until the cries became sniffling sobs and I pressed my cheek against his boot in an act of contrition. He moved his foot away and I struggled to not start crying again or ask him what I desperately needed to know - what he intended to do. There was soft thud and a slight metallic rattle next to my face and I tried to turn my head to see what had made the noise without him noticing.

"It's OK, Princess, you can look because you have a choice to make. I am fed up with ignorant little bitches who think they want the lifestyle, but are not prepared to make the final commitment."

His voice was distant and hard and I started to cry again, protesting between the sobs. 

"I did not ask you to do anything other than tell me your transgressions and now you whine like a dog. It's just another example of your refusal to accept discipline," he harshly continued. "Now - your choices. Look at what is on the floor next to you." 

That dried my sobs to gulps and I turned my head to focus through the tears at the object he'd dropped. It was a plain leather dog collar with a lead attached. My instincts were right - he had known I'd removed his collar. I realised he could read me as easily as I could read the daily newspaper.

"I thought you had committed yourself when you offered me your neck to collar but you think this is a game. This time, once that collar is around your neck you will surrender your will to me or I will break you completely."

His words were like blows, each one delivered in a measured tone. 

"Or you can say no and I will leave. However, everyone will know that I regarded you a waste of time."

I knew that would mean that it would be a long time, perhaps never, until I found someone else. I also knew he was right; I had not fully given myself to his will, thinking I could have everything I wanted without consequences or responsibility. His demand that I place the collar around my own neck was the perfect way to brand in my mind that I had chosen to submit completely instead of thinking it was all just a game I could enjoy. 

Timidly I reached for the collar and undid it. It wasn't that easy, lying on my belly and struggling to get the buckle undone. Mentally, it was even harder to put it round my neck and do it up. Once I had done that I knew there would be no going back. He didn't move throughout the whole process, nor did he speak, but I knew he watched as I finally got the buckle done up and returned my forehead to the floor. 

I didn't have long to wait to learn what he intended. Without speaking he reached down and took a firm grip on the collar. I couldn't stop the whimper of fear as I was half dragged, half carried, like a dog about to be tossed out the back door for peeing on the floor, to the kitchen. He pushed me across the kitchen counter that separated the tiny living area from the even smaller kitchen and stepped back. I hung across it, unable to touch the floor. I couldn't hear what he was doing behind me but it didn't take long to find out. The first smack of his belt against my bare buttocks let me know what was in store and I wailed in surprise and shock.

"Be silent. I do not want to hear your voice until you begin to understand that my voice is the only one that matters."

The belt whistled again. With expert skill, it landed immediately below the first mark. As did the next and the next, as he worked down my buttocks and thighs. At other times his hand would drive me mad with delight as it traced the reddening marks or even caressed my pussy between the blows, but this time there was no respite. I struggled to stay silent, but couldn't prevent the tiny moans each blow drew. He changed sides to rest his arm and began again, this time working from the thighs, up towards the reddening cheeks. Despite the pain I realised his blows where carefully controlled. He could have raised welts or even drawn blood, but these were designed for prolonged punishment and, finally, I couldn't hold back the sobs, both of fear and of pain.

I tried counting in my mind to provide some measure of pride, but in the end I lost count. I wanted desperately to say the safeword, to see if he would care enough to stop, but he'd told me he didn't want to hear my voice and I knew how badly I'd behaved. It was his right to do whatever he wanted because I'd given that right to him when I had placed the collar around my own neck. In the end, that was what kept me from screaming for him to have mercy. I had finally given him my trust and I couldn't plead for him to stop. It was for him to decide when I had learned my lesson.

At last he stopped. He was breathing a little heavily as he walked around the counter. I whimpered and looked at him through my tears. He held the belt up to my lips and I kissed it.

"Hold it," he commanded as he pushed it between my teeth.

Willingly I closed my mouth on the leather and he slid his hands along my arms to guide my hands to the edge of the bench top, closing my unresisting fingers on it. He took the belt from my mouth and told me to hold tight because this was going to be bad. His tone made my body start to shake as he turned to walk away. Then he paused, looked back at me and reached over to grab the tea towel hanging next to the sink. He pushed it into my mouth with a terse command to bite down on it if I had to. My body started to shake harder as he moved away to stand behind me again. 

The cheeks of my ass were already hot and red when the blow landed. The already sensitized skin came alive in a strip of fire and I bit down on the tea towel. As the next one landed I clung to the bench top like a rock climber clinging to bare rock after the safety line had failed. The belt only swung twice, but it was enough. For the first time since I had met him I realised he'd never used his full strength to punish me. From that day forward I would remember what he was capable of.

The touch of his hand as he ran it over my hot buttocks was soft, but the sudden thrust of two fingers into my pussy was not. My yelp was muffled in the tea towel as he stretched and pushed against the tunnel walls. 

"Princess, you are amazing."

He sounded pleased. Despite the pain caused by his expert use of the belt, particularly the last two strokes, I was swollen and wet. His fingers were abruptly withdrawn and he walked around and gently tilted my head up to look at him again. His thumbs brushed the tears away and he eased the tea towel out of my mouth. He turned the tap on, letting some water run into the palm of his hand and carrying it to my mouth. Gratefully, I lapped the liquid to ease the dryness from having the tea towel stuffed in my mouth. He hooked his fingers under the collar again and dragged me sideways off the counter and let me drop to the floor as he walked back around it and into the little sitting room.

"Suck me," he ordered as he undid his jeans and dropped into an easy chair.

I had collapsed to my knees when dropped off the edge of the counter. At his words I crawled to him, the lead dangling from my collar. Desperate to tell him I was grateful for his chastising I pressed my body against his legs as I lifted my mouth to lick his thighs, working toward his cock. His fingers twisted in my hair and he pulled me up a little and pushed my face against his groin. His cock was huge and hard as I opened my mouth obediently and sucked in as much as I could. 

"Good girl."

I wanted him to forgive me, and let my tongue swirl around the head and flutter against the shaft as I sucked him into my mouth. For a little while he was still and let me worship his cock, but then he sighed and told me that I still had much to learn and I needed to accept that nothing was for my pleasure, only his. I whimpered around his cock and pressed against him, letting him feel my hard nipples and soft body. My mouth clung to his shaft, using my lips and tongue to plead with him to let me continue sucking his glorious cock. 

Instead he sat forward, his hands tightened in my hair and he pulled my face against him, his cock thrusting deep into my throat, and I gagged. He ignored me and continued to fuck my face, holding me still with his hands as his hips pumped his shaft deep into my mouth.

"Your mouth is sweet, Princess, and it is mine, isn't it?"

I couldn't answer with his cock thrusting in and out of my mouth, but I tried to by accepting the head deep in my throat, keeping my mouth open so he could fuck me any way he wanted. Saliva was running down my chin and my lips were swollen and bruised when he pulled out, patting me on the head and telling me again that I was a good girl. I couldn't hold the whimper back and my hands clung to his legs, to pull him back to me. 

"Enough, turn around."

As quickly as my body would let me I turned, head and shoulders on the floor, thighs apart and lifted my ass as high as I could for him. He moved forward on the chair and let his hands run over the welts formed from the final two blows. They ran across both cheeks, which throbbed under his hands. I could feel my pussy aching for his touch and moaned softly, pushing towards him.

"Open yourself for me," he commanded.

Reaching back I stretched my pussy open for him, showing the soft gleam of fluid on the swollen lips. 

"No, your ass, as wide as you can."

I bit my lip to stop the little sound of protest. I liked it in the ass, but I had to be primed and hot. I had loved it when he had prepared me with his fingers or a vibrator, but I wasn't ready. The bruised cheeks hurt under my hands, but I didn't hesitate and moved my hands to open the sphincter as much as I could. His finger traced the puckered, stretched hole and he moved closer to the edge of the chair, tossing a couple of cushions from the chair to thud softly on the floor behind me. 

He knelt behind me on the cushions and I felt the swollen head of his cock push against my tight asshole. One hand steadied the shaft and the other gripped the collar. The whimper from my lips was involuntary, quickly stifled.

"Relax, Princess. Push into it." 

His voice still commanded, but it also encouraged. It gave me enough strength to remain silent as his cock pushed deeper and deeper, easing in a little more with each thrust. Finally the entire length was buried in my hot, tight little asshole. 

"Brace, little one," he murmured as his grip on the collar tightened. 

As vigorously as he had fucked my mouth he fucked my ass. I struggled to breathe as the collar was pulled tight, but it made it easier for him to pleasure himself as he slammed against my red and swollen buttocks. The pain of the unprepared entry was gone and I could feel his balls against my skin as his long, hard shaft pushed all the way in. I wanted to feel his fingers in my pussy or against my clitoris, but I sensed this fucking was not only for his pleasure but also to reinforce that I was his. He would not allow me the orgasm that my body desperately sought.

With one final groan he let go of the collar and used both his hands to pull me hard against him. It seemed his cock had grown even larger and longer as his pulsing orgasm filled me with warm come. For long moment he remained deep inside me as the last of his orgasm spent itself, then he withdrew. I could feel a little of the warm come ooze out and moaned in frustration. I knew my pussy gaped for attention and I wanted desperately to reach back and play with myself, fingers working into the wetness and rubbing over the clitoris until I too lost myself in an orgasm. 

Instead I heard his voice tell me to clean him as he sat down again. I closed my eyes to stop the pricking tears and bit my lip to stop the urge to whiningly plead for him to let me come. I was glad I had been empty and clean because this was one thing I hated. I turned to offer myself in the ultimate act of cleaning him with my tongue, tasting his come mixed with my own bitter taste, licking him until he was totally clean. I hoped the throbbing between my legs would soon subside because I knew I would not get any pleasure until he was ready to allow it. I finished and he dismissed my ministrations by pushing me away and tidying up his clothes. 




Penance



Finally, he took the lead that lay slackly between my breasts and rested the length of it under his foot. I looked up at him, trying to convey without words that I understood his punishment and that I was grateful for his teaching me, but he pulled the lead upwards with his hand, letting it slide under his boot. The length between his foot and my neck shortened as he did so and I was again pulled down until my face rested next to his foot.

"Princess, are you mine?"

"Yes, oh yes. You are my lord and master," I whispered, still a little afraid he would reject me.

He lifted his foot and used the lead to pull me upwards before tilting my face to his with his other hand. I dared not meet his eyes but watched his mouth intently, looking for some sign of softness and forgiveness. He wasn't smiling, but the tightness of his anger seemed gone and I dared to hope again. 

"I like your strong will, but I will shape it, not you. When I return I expect respect and obedience, because I will not be lenient with you again. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Now he smiled and it lit his face. I felt a rush of joy knowing I was his again, safe and secure. He had forgiven me. He stood up and ordered me to my belly, telling me that until I had earned the right to kneel in his presence this would be how I would greet him. It would be a reminder to me that everything was his to decide. Then he left, closing the door firmly behind him. I stayed still for several minutes, half expecting him to open the door and return, but instead I heard nothing. 

Despite the tightness in my legs from the belting he had given me I stood and ran to the window, wanting to see his shape one more time tonight. Pressing my forehead against the glass, all I saw was the red taillights of his car as he drove away. Sniffling because I had missed him, but holding the end of the lead he had left on me as a comfort I turned to cross the room and pick up the roses still lying on the floor. This time I would wait as long as it took for him to decide when I was ready to continue in my training. I was ready and I was his.



Penance



Chapter 1

As you walk back to your apartment, you can still feel your heart pounding in your chest. The workout was tough, but you no longer are quite as winded as you used to be. Progress! You open the door and walk in, idly swinging it shut behind you. Dropping your gym bag, you stretch towards the ceiling, feeling your muscles begin to relax. The door latches behind you, but unexpectedly you hear the deadbolt slide home.

"Stretching like that does fabulous things for your tits."

Your muscles suddenly tense, you drop your arms and snap around. I am standing between you and the door, my hand still on the lock.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come again," I say with a smirk, "Is there a problem with that?"

"It's over. You know that. We agreed that everything was even and you wouldn't—"

"It's not over until _I_ say it's over!" I growl, walking up to you. My broad shoulders block your view of the door. I grab you near the elbows, pinning your arms to your sides.

"And after what happened, I want it over. And over. And over again."

With that I lean down and kiss you hard and full on the lips. My tongue shoots out, lashing yours. Your surprise prevented you from closing your mouth, and now it's too late. My kiss is hot, hungry, and raw. Despite your shock, you feel yourself reacting to it. Part of your mind flashes back to hot, wild nights of passion. Frenzied fucking, toys, saran wrap, handcuffs... your knees begin to weaken.

The rest of your mind rebels, however. You break the kiss.

"No. No! I told you it's over. You said you were done, we're even. I've made it up to you already."

Pulling you tightly against me, I growl, "We're not even and you know it. But you've certainly made it up."

You can feel my crotch grinding against your thigh, my cock already hard and swelling.

"Now it's time to relieve my discomfort. I can tell you want it; you're heart's racing and you're already breathing heavy."

You look up at the none-too-pleasant smile on my face. "I, I was working out..." you weakly offer.

"Heh. Working out? Well now it's time for a real workout. But first let's see if the gym's done you any good. Lose the shirt." I release your arms and push you back a step.

"No, please... Just go..." you whimper, eyes downcast, placing a hand on my chest.

"Now." I twist your wrist just to the point of pain. "Unless you really want to see me upset."

A gasp of pain escapes you as you shake your head. I let go of your wrist and give you a moment to rub it.

"The shirt."

You nod and strip it off, tossing it aside, your eyes still on the floor.

"And the sports bra. C'mon, I wanna see if the gym is doing you any good."

You glance up as you reach to pull off your bra. My eyes are greedily focused on your cleavage, already burning.

It is a sensual relief to peel off the hot, constricting Lycra of the sports bra and you can't help but give a sigh of relief as your breasts fall free into the cool air.

"See? Doesn't it feel good to do what you're told? Now, how about that stretch again. It really does do wonderful things for you."

You reach your arms upwards without much enthusiasm, hoping this humiliation will end soon, hoping I don't want what you know I do.

"C'mon, Rach, you can do better than that!" I taunt, grabbing your wrists and pulling them higher. "That's better. Now stretch, enjoy this."

You hold the stretch and feel my hands slide down your arms, feeling the muscles in them. You hope that the hours in the gym have done enough. My hands glide down across your chest and cup your breasts, lifting and rolling them.

"Mmm... awesome as always. I could do this all day..."

The feeling of my strong hands squeezing your boobs causes more flashbacks. Both of us squeezing them, playing with them, teasing your nipples, sucking juice off them, titty fucking you, and hot ropes of cum splashing across them. A shudder runs through you at the memory.

You begin to lower your arms just as I give your nipples a sharp pinch and grasp your shoulders again. Another hard kiss, my cock even bigger than before rubbing against you.

"But that's not really why I stopped by. Now put those secretary skills to work and give me some dick-tation!" I smirk.

My hands are pushing down on your shoulders, but you look up at me, pleading, "No, please, don't-"

My hands twist your shoulders, knocking you off balance, and making you fall to both knees. 

"That wasn't a request. Now get to work. And remember, I'll know it you're not doing as well as you can."

The huge bulge in my pants is right in front of your face, but you make one more attempt to avoid it. Looking up, tears starting to fall from your eyes, you say, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to happen! Please! Just let me go; I'll transfer, I'll leave town. Anything!"

I grab your hair tightly, pulling your head back farther; "Damn right you'll do anything, bitch! And you'll start by servicing my cock. Now put that mouth to work; we both know what you're capable of doing."

I let go of your hair and take off my belt, doubling it over in my hands. 

*SNAP*

"Now what's it going to be?"

Whimpering more freely now, you lean forward and run your hands softly up my thighs. As you reach my crotch, your hands spread out to the sides, letting just your thumbs lightly graze my cock. Your hands reach around to grab and knead my butt, pulling me forward so you can press your face against my crotch. You nuzzle my cock, rubbing it through my pants with your nose, your lips and teeth teasing at it.

I moan slightly, "Yeah, you still know how to get a guy going..."

Haltingly, you open my pants and see the tip of my cockhead already pushing up above the waistband of my boxers. Leaning forward, you give it a quick lick, then catch the waistband in your teeth and slowly pull it down. My velvety cock leans out towards you, gliding down your forehead and cheek as it's released from my drawers. Your nose is filled with the strong, clean, musky scent of my crotch. 

"Yeah, baby; that's nice," I say softly as your hands lift my balls free and begin rolling them gently between your fingers. Your tongue now slowly snakes its way back up the length of my shaft, and you pause to lap and swirl at the sensitive underside of my cockhead. My fingers slowly twist into your silky hair, expressing my pleasure. That exquisite pinch of pulled hair, combined with the scent and taste of cock, overwhelms you and reminds you of your love for the pleasures of sucking cock, of the ecstasy of exchanging oral sex. You feel your pussy getting wet at the thought of a tongue between your legs...

With a little grunt, you reach around to grab my ass and pull my hips tight against you while your mouth suddenly swallows nearly my entire cock. We moan simultaneously at the amazing feeling of your wet, talented mouth engulfing my hard cock, of my rigid tool filling your mouth. You begin sucking and licking my cock in earnest, attacking it like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Your hands continue caressing my balls, sometimes pulling on them, your other hand stroking my cock hard and fast. I feel your tongue swirling and lashing the head of my cock and we both feel it getting longer and harder from your expert fellatio. In a spasm I thrust forward hard, pulling your head into me, and you nearly choke from suddenly deep-throating my raging cock. Brief snorts of musky air are all you can draw through your nose as the muscles of your throat squeeze and massage my dick. Feeling my balls tighten up, you pull them down and back, expertly delaying my climax while also partly withdrawing my cock so you can suck harder on the head and breathe at the same time. 

"Oh god, baby, you're too damn good... Unh! Unh! Yeaaaaah!" I pull my cock all the way out of your mouth just as I start cumming. A hot jet of cum shoots out and splatters on your upper lip. Shot after shot fires out, forcing you to close your eyes as my cum arcs across your face and into your hair. I can see you smile broadly as my cum coats you, and as I begin to fade, I rub my cock along your soft cheek and lips, coaxing you to suck it clean. I lean back against the wall as you slowly lick the thick ropes of cum from your lips, smiling at its warm, stickiness.

"Damn... you are one hell of a hot cum-slut...You look just perfect like that!"

At the sound of my voice, you come back to yourself and realize where you are—kneeling before my cock, topless, your face and hair covered in my cum... just like the cum-slut I said you are. Your smile disappears as you collapse, your head hanging down in shame.

"Now, now," I say almost gently, "It's only a temporary mess. I don't expect even you to have to meet anyone like that. C'mon, get up."

I grasp your shoulders and pull you to your feet. I turn you away from me, kissing the back of your neck as I knead your breasts in my hands.

"Go on. Take a shower and get cleaned up. You just got back from the gym, after all."

I release you and push you towards the bathroom 

with a firm squeeze of your ass.

"And be sure to clean EVERY where, including that fine, tight ass of yours. I'm gonna give you a REAL workout when you get back!"

Your head whips around with a shocked, frightened, pleading look, but what you see on my face is nothing but a raw, lustful smirk of promise...

**************************

[Rating and feedback appreciated. That's what will determine if I continue the story, as this isn't my usual genre.]



Penance



This is my first short story for Literotica so I hope you all enjoy. Especially you Sammy! Hope everyone likes it and look forward to feedback. All characters in this story are 18 or older! Have fun!!

Rhosyn

xoxoxo

"Sit down Robert..." the boy's young inexperienced mother pleaded with her toddler, as a little bead of sweat dripped from her well maintained hairline. "Behave like a good boy...you don't want a spanking do you?" Spanking? She was serious! My siblings and I had rarely been wrong and therefore never chastised. We did what was expected of us and the rest all sort of came with the territory. 

Turning my nose up at the young woman, I rolled my Saturn blue eyes and puffed out my chest some. Such a waste of skin to have a beautiful young woman, tied down to things like children. She should have been learning the art of men, and that the closest thing to their heart is not a loving family or friends...It is the semblance of ones ego being boosted and built. You give them what they want and they give back. I had learned this early on, it being true with most everyone I knew. The church most definitely no exception. We were older now...my father had left in an attempt to find whatever he was looking for...but my mother kept to the same patterns. So every Saturday, my sister (a few years younger than me), mother and I would we would take that long hot drive to Sao Paulo, to have mass at the Cathedral. I couldn't remember a Saturday when we didn't do this. I had never met the Priest when my Father was around, and now that he wasn't we seemed to see this Father around more often than not. It started understandably enough, with him bringing over donations from the church when my Mothers father passed away (as though we needed donations ....seriously). I was old enough to take care of the things my mother normally took care of by this time. 

He would come late though, or almost always mid afternoon when the sun was high, and my sister and I were tanning. It was almost if he timed it. It was hot in some sort of weird way. I noticed how he looked even through his holy eyes, how he looked at my family. It was only us three women, and my mother those days was always looking a little less than alert. This was my most alert time in my entire life however, and I watched him like a hawk when he was here, enough to make my mother ask "what the fuck was I looking at" when I stared at him in the parlor, sitting dripping wet still from the pool. I wasn't a little girl anymore, and that went without saying as the chocolate waves of curls that graced my perfect head, turning into ringlets every second the longer I waited. I could see the way the beads of crystal clear water glistened off my thighs, as my leg was crossed heavy at the hip, but slim and tight to the ankles. This summer had given me a new level of definition. I would be turning 19 this summer, and my body was celebrating every step of the way. My Brazilian blood was showing most definitely, making me a creamy mocha hue. I would rip my fingers through my hair and toss my head, letting him see the perfect swells of my breasts and tan lines, which weren't much only covering barely my brownish pink nipples. I didn't like much being in the pool, it was lying next to it, and catching a mist from the wind, that did it for me. Anyone who was anyone knew that, including Father James. 

"Care for a dip in our pool Father James?" my voice had taken on a form of deep sensuality over the years. I was told I could make anything sound sexy when I spoke, and I found it to be rather true and useful as well. He held up his hand with a smile, quickly refusing the offer, which only made me laugh some, loosing interest rather quickly. I would gather my towel, sling it over my neck, stand in the stilettos I had acquired by the Cabana to answer his beckon call at the door earlier. And now he sat here like a sick virgin at his first make out party, just staring at me. I always waited with him until my mother came to his company. And it was times like these I can remember...I remember his eyes nearly raping my ass as I took off walking down the hall, the shoes tapping in tune with the swing of my full hips and pretty peach shaped ass. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and it felt so good. 

And now we sat on this Saturday, he up on his podium of glory, casting looks into the front isle where my mother, sister and I sat, pretend eager little faces to hear what he had to say. It wasn't him speaking right now though, he was simply glaring, and enough that made me widen my eyes to let him know if he didn't stop glaring soon, he would have to give answers. I let him have his eye candy though for the most part. I dressed particularly mature for these days. A black dress, that dipped low in the back, and came up about mid thigh. It hugged my curves perfectly, and even with the sweat the tortured my face, I still seemed to attract an audience every time. Finally when he was up to speaking, his words seemed rushed, and his cheeks were flushed horribly. A drink of water was offered him, so that his voice could clear up while delivering. Licking my heart shaped lips; I couldn't hide a smirk that played over my face. It was like a cat and mouse game. Except for this cat never seemed to catch his mouse, not until today anyway.

Finally we walked down the aisle, a little weight off my shoulders, my mind thanking whatever God there might have been, that we could retire back to our house and hit the air conditioning and poolside. I walked with no conviction that my clothes were less than appropriate for church eyes, it didn't matter. Every husband's eyes were on me, every bitch wanted to be me, every son wanted to fuck me, and every wife was envious. This was the normal way of life. Living coveted. Father James had already made his way to the front of the cathedral to bid everyone a good day and god blessings. I couldn't wait for this time of the mass. It was my favorite. I would puff my chest so hard, you could see the buds of my nipples right through the lace bra that barely held them together. It was time for confession now. This had to be the highlight of the week; I'm sure his as well. I would wait like a good girl, sandwiched between my sister and mother. My mother's would be quick; she was never one for long drawn out confessions. She was doing too many dirty things to atone for much any of them. Then my sister I would push ahead, just to prolong the inevitable. My sister was quiet by nature, but always told him things like how she felt in school, and how she felt about our father leaving. Too much if you asked me, and had nothing to do with confessing shit. But who was I to judge? 

Our confession area, was not a booth or small hut, but rather a small room, that donned two doors and oak wood partition built in between, with just enough window so he could hear all our dirty little sins. The room had a chair and desk that he would bless you at, before you departed. Everything was done like this for the wealthy, sadly to say. I had heard those of non-stature did their confessions before mass and never had rooms like this. I stepped in this early afternoon, wiping the sweat from my brow, before taking a seat in the plush oversized chair. I could hear his breathing shallow for a moment before he cleared his throat and tried to pretend he was a professional. "Father James?" I prodded him with a gentle tongue. "Is all well Father James?" pressing my red lips almost to the screen, I heard him clear his throat for one final time with a grunt before answering. 

He opened with an awkward rehearsed typical prayer and then" Now let us bring into the light anything you want to give into Gods mercy" he didn't really want to ask that. He knew he didn't. Father James knew my confessions were always a little less than normal. And so I started.

"Father James...it is" I bit down on my bottom lip so that he could see the fatness in them, making his pants grow bigger by the bulge. "Is it bad if I lost my virginity in the backyard pool? It happened just last week..." I could hear the gasp in his voice as he tried everything not to break down and rip me right out by the hair, having his savage way with me. "I mean I begged at first...not to, but then once ..." I started in a whispered tone again, but he cut me off.

"It is wrong to have sex outside of marriage," was the best thing he could say. And for a moment it left me speechless. "Go on," just as I thought he wanted to hear more. I was the one to fill his ear with wicked ideas, enough to serve him for the week and make it until here...our next Saturday mass. 

"It was with my best friend's brother....Devion," he knew how old we all were. That was how long the families in this church had been coming. There wasn't a birthday that went by that Father James didn't recognize. Our priest was one of the most handsome, desirable men I had ever seen. He was no stranger to being flirted with by so many of the lonely housewives in our elite circle, but what he wasn't used to was someone like me teasing and tempting him so mercilessly for the past year.. Though I swear he did ask for it sometime. "We did it in the pool, the pool house, my parent's room, my room." I lowered my head to the screen to get a glimpse of him and let out an exasperated breath. He was drowning in sweat, tugging at his collar to try and catch a breath. "Father James am I going to hell?" the question was innocent, and I was astonished when he didn't even bother to answer. 

"For two weeks you are to come to see me....for counseling of course. I think you may not understand the word of God and his love and compassion he has for all us sinners." his voice was shaky, and he coughed hard now to clear his throat. "Is that all?" he only wished it was all. 

"I have one more confession Father James, and your probably not going to like it one bit, but I must get it off my chest. It has plagued me since I was very young," he could only imagine how young, considering I was barely legal even now. He paused for a moment before telling me to go on. I imagined him plugging his ears in order to avoid what I had to say.

"I have often thought of you, whilst sitting in the church pews, watching you watch me, even though I know you shouldn't be and you know damned well you shouldn't be. You still watch me with wicked eyes and intentions. I know it! I often think about you bending me over your desk in that dark, dank office you call your office. You rip my panties off in haste, and I rip your shirt open. At first begging you to stop, but then realizing I have teased you for entirely too long, and you really only live once after all. So with that knowledge you spread my ass that you so often daydream about, take one look and without another word, you plunge into my tight near virgin lady lips." I barely took a breath, as I closed my eyes, my fingers tugging at the screen, wanting to see what he was doing. "Do I need to do penance for these things too Father James?" 

I heard his door open, and for once my heart actually skipped a beat. How many times had I teased him mercilessly by either my way of dressing or the outlandish confessions I made up just to work him into frenzy? His door opened and closed with barely any noise. I waited now sitting with my back pressed against the wall, my legs crossed one over the other, the shoe at my heel just dangling now impatiently. I could hear myself breathe, and it was exciting. This was dangerous. I loved seeing how far I could push anything. I loved challenges and probably would for the rest of my life because of moments like these.

My door finally opened slowly, and my pretty orbs peered up at him. I must have looked the poster child for wicked young vixens, as I sat there just staring up into his eyes. He was a big man, and his gaze back told me that I would likely now learn a lesson in fake confessions. His eyes raked the inside of the confession booth, sizing up things quickly, then with no warning reached down to rip me from my seat, slamming my back against a bare wall. His hands rough around my throat to hold me in place. "Gentle," I pleaded sweetly, hands immediately gripping to his cloak and collar. He was a big man indeed, the way he lifted me up, forcing my legs to wrap around his middle. 

"I'm your priest you jezebel," he hissed out, obviously feeling guilt for what he was about to do, which made me quite uneasy. I had never seen this side of him. His hands shook and his eyes turned from a royal blue to a midnight color. He was frustrated. I told him, not to be so impatient and take his time, that I was only teasing him as usual, but he had, had enough. " You're a temptress, you will never go to heaven," in a way it hurt, but more than anything it was path of freedom, that I could be as bad as I wanted because either way I was going to hell, and that was fine by me. 

The way he held me in place, nearly by my throat against the wall made my panties wet, and I was pretty sure it should have scared the ever living daylights out of me, but it only made them soak more. Finally with shivering hands, he found my ass cheeks, groaning at the fact I didn't bother to wear panties on this hot day. Panties only added discomfort when the weather was well above 100. He slapped them rather hard, making an echo throughout the little part of our booth. Gasping in shock, he had the nerve to cover my mouth with a quick free hand, shaking his head. "Don't you make a sound," he whispered in my ear. I wasn't sure to nod or cry. This had all gone too far, still my body ached for more play, it ached to feel his hands and fingers all over my skin, and so I didn't put up much of a fight. Father James, slid his cold long fingers, across my bare ass crack, and then slowly and carefully inserted two into my dripping little cunt. He was smart to keep that hand over my mouth. I squealed and whined, and he moaned and grunted. "So wet...are you ready for your punishment?" my eyes caught his this time, wondering what he meant.

It only took him seconds to spin me around and put me in position of the chair, so that my ass went up and my face forced down. He had ripped his collar off of his neck and wedged it into my pretty little mouth to keep me quiet. Grabbing my petite arms he stretched them behind my back, placing them just at the bottom of my spine, and pinning them there with his own. My neck hurt with no support, it was all I had to do was lay it flat on the chair, turned to the side a bit so I could hopefully breathe. It seemed like forever, that it took him to take off his cloak and undo the sharp black business pants he wore. Without that cloak he looked like a business man. He didn't even bother to unzip and unbutton; he just unzipped and pulled his entirely way too big cock out from the unzipped hole. Devion hadn't been that big even, and he was only my first. Wiggling to the best of my ability to get out of this not so smart plan, he only seemed to become more anxious. Holding my hands securely with one hand, the other shot to the back of my neck, pinning me against my wiggles. 

Soon I could hear him, jerking his cock, every few seconds the head would bounce against my juicy pussy lips, spreading it wider and wider. I thanked God he was gentle enough not to just ram it in all at once. Still even at this rate, it hurt the more he pushed, and I whimpered low in the back of my throat, trying to catch a breath through my nose. Then.....he did it. Slam!! His whole cock, balls, deep inside me. I felt like it was lights out for a moment, as pain raced through my body and stomach. He didn't care that the chair was drenched with my sweat or tears now. He could care less, and deep down inside I could care less as well. Pulling out slowly, he delved back in again, giving me the same effect, and starting to wonder when this would be over. Again and again, until he picked up a pace of hardcore thrusts and grinds, each time his balls slapping against my sweet lips, making a nasty wet noise. My entire body shook, but I could feel my walls suck him each and every time. My hips bounced back against his, and he rubbed and worshipped my bare ass, giving it tiny slaps and then squeezes. It didn't take him long however to reach his moment. I knew it the moment he rammed so hard into me I felt as though I may puke if he didn't stop. 

"Sit up!" suddenly his voice was demanding and rough, scary almost; so much that I did as was told without a second thought. Sitting up I looked up at him, tear streaked cheeks of black eyeliner and mascara. All I could do was nod, not knowing what I had done wrong, or what he wanted next. He was quick to remind me of what I had done wrong, and grabbed the back of my head, hair and all, and forcing his cock deep into my mouth, the collar still in there, making me choke. " Don't scream," he had just remembered and whipped my head back to remove the material and quickly shoved himself back in with a deep moan. My inexperienced tongue wiggled over him, my mouth felt stretched and my throat violated with each gag. "Drink," was all he said before he angled his pulsating cock straight down my throat and released his seed. I didn't have a choice other than to drink. It seemed like so much, and after he was done he slapped his cock against my cheek, and then slapped with his hand the other. I must have looked like an abuse victim, sitting there with tears and cum all over my face, now lost for words. 

" Get cleaned up child, and let that be a lesson to never tease me again, or next time you will get it over my desk and it wont be anywhere as pleasant as this was," his words were sharp and twisted. There was a knock at the door that startled us. "Just finishing Sister Isabella," he said just as sweet as ever. He looked at me, took his time in fixing himself first to a proper fashion, and then opened the door slowly before going back into his side. I could see his eyes watch me through the screen, as I fumbled to look right. But there was no helping the makeup stains that drenched my face. I would have to think of a lie for that one. I could easily say I cried because of my father leaving. It would have to work. 

Stepping out from the door, I looked around for tissues, but only found him assisting me to the door to leave, reaching into his holy water dish and attempting to bless me, which I jumped in reaction to. "God Bless you Child," he smiled and nodded.



Penance - A Fantasy



~I've been looking forward to this all evening. The wait has been excruciating, but now I finally have some privacy. I know this is meant to be a punishment, penance to you for my transgressions and certainly not intended for my pleasure. Nevertheless, I can't deny the rush of excitement that fills me as I undress and start the bath, making sure the water is the right temperature before climbing into the tub. I stop the drain and lay back, sliding down the tub until the warm stream falls directly onto my sensitive clitoris. My hands massage my breasts as I start to think of you.~

I kneel in front of you, my head down, eyes averted, mouth open. Out of the corner of my gaze I glimpse my clothes, still laying in a pile beside the door. Just as you had instructed, removing them was the first thing I had done. The second had been to drop to my knees and beg your forgiveness.

Both tasks complete, I now kneel, silently submitting myself to you.

You say nothing - you don't have to. I may not be able to see your face, but I can feel your displeasure in the intensity of your gaze... I shiver, but not from the cold. 

Without warning, your hand finds my hair and you yank me roughly towards the bed. I barely manage to get my feet underneath me when you shove me forward, gripping my neck and pressing me into the mattress. I am bent over the bed, my ass in the air and completely exposed to you. I feel your free hand roughly grab my ass and I whimper, fearing (and wondering) what might come next.

For a moment you simply fondle me. You are far from tender - one hand pins me to the mattress by my neck while the other brutally massages my ass - and I wince at the assault. Suddenly your hand leaves my ass and -

SMACK!

I cry out in pain. Another blow falls and I squirm, but your hand tightening around the back of my neck reminds me to keep still. 

~The tub is getting full now, so I move up until I can rest against backrest while it finishes filling up. One hand slides down to my clit while the other continues fondling my breast, getting increasingly rougher as my fantasy progresses.~

Several more times your hand falls, and I gasp as I feel the sting of each blow. Then you release me and I lay perfectly still, wondering what is about to happen. 

Several long moments pass, and nothing happens. I can feel goosebumps rising on my shoulders and back as the anticipation and fear sets in. Still you do nothing.

Finally I turn my head, wanting to see where you are and what you might be doing. No sooner do I move than I feel the sharp bite of your belt on my ass. I cry out in pain and my hands close in fists around the bed sheets.

"Did I tell you to move?" you ask coldly. 

I remain silent, unsure of whether or not you want me to answer. The belt comes down again, this time just below my ass, and I bury my face in the mattress to muffle my cries. 

"I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry, Sir! No, Sir," I say quickly. 

You don't say anything, but the sting of the belt as it comes crashing down once more is enough to tell me my apology hasn't been accepted. 

~At this point the tub is full, so I shut off the water before settling back into my fantasy. The warm water feels good against my skin, so I sit up a little higher so that more of me is exposed to the cool air.~

My eyes squeeze shut and my clenched fists tremble as you swing the belt again, this time at my lower back. Then my shoulders. Then my ass again. Blow after blow rains down on me, each more intense than the last. I moan and cry at the pain, but I can feel my pussy start to throb. I'm dripping wet right now, and I know it. 

I hear the belt fall to the floor and you grab me by the arm, yanking me suddenly to my feet. As soon as I'm standing you reach out and grab my breasts, twisting harshly at my sensitive nipples and pulling me closer to you.

Your hands assault my breasts, kneading, pinching, twisting making me cry out and moan at the torment. I set my eyes tightly but otherwise remain still, accepting your treatment. 

~I mimic the actions of fantasy-you, whimpering as I abuse my own breasts. I'm not gentle - you wouldn't be.~

With one hand you continue the assault on my breasts, while the other entangles itself in my hair. You yank my head back roughly, so much so that I have to arch my back to relieve some of the pressure on my neck. 

Suddenly your lips are inches from mine, and I freeze. You never stop abusing my breasts, but the pain fades from my mind when I steal a glance at your eyes and see the anger and lust written there. A wave of mixed terror and pleasure passes through me, so intense I could almost cum from that alone.

Then your lips are on mine, claiming my mouth with a ferocity I've only ever experienced at your hands. You are rough, invading my mouth with your tongue and biting my bottom lip hard enough to make me gasp aloud. And I love every second of it.

Even as I reach for you, I know I shouldn't; you haven't given me permission. Yet even that knowledge is not enough to make me resist touching you.

As soon as I do you break away and shove me hard against the wall. Your hand wraps around my neck and you bring your face in toward mine, so close that I can feel your breath on my cheek. My heart races and falls all at once.

"I didn't say you could touch me," you say into my ear. I tremble at the unspoken implications in your voice and my hands fall to my sides. 

You don't kiss me again. I don't expect you to, not after that, and I silently berate myself for touching you. 

Instead, I feel your teeth sink into my shoulder, and I moan. Your mouth moves up and down my neck and shoulders, sucking and biting at my tender skin, and I inhale sharply at the assault. 

Your hand leaves my neck and travels down to my waist, where you grip me so tightly I can feel your fingernails digging into in my skin. Your free hand moves to my wrists, gathering them together and lifting them above my head, effectively pinning me to the wall as you gaze down at me. I glance at your face, but quickly avert my eyes before I incite more displeasure. 

I can feel you staring at me, and I shrink under the scrutiny of your gaze. "Keep your hands where they are," you tell me, then release my wrists. Your hands run down my arms, to my breasts, then further down my waist, kneading, pinching, pressing me harder against the wall. You reach down and roughly grab my thighs, forcing my legs apart. I almost lose my balance but manage to stay upright, being sure to keep my hands above my head. I shiver, feeling exposed and nervous at this examination.

Without warning, you shove two fingers into my pussy. I'm still soaking wet, but that does little to ease the discomfort as you roughly finger me. But then, I know it's not supposed to feel good... This, as with everything else tonight, is a punishment, most likely earned by touching him. Or perhaps he just wants to hurt me right now... Either possibility makes my heart race. 

~With my right hand I finger myself, as hard and as fast as I imagine you doing. With the other I massage and pull at my clit. My hips thrust in the water and I moan in mixed pain and pleasure.~

Despite the pain, though (or, perhaps, because of it), I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, and it doesn't take long before I find myself unconsciously thrusting against the palm of your hand. I don't dare to cum, though, I know I could. I'm not stupid enough to face those consequences unless I absolutely have to. 

Your hand wraps around my hair again. You pull me and toss me back onto the bed, this time on my back. Within moments you are on top of me, pushing my legs up over your shoulders and slamming your cock into my throbbing pussy. 

~I cum as I imagine this, and I have to bite my lip to remind myself to stay quiet; the bathroom echoes and people are sleeping. I don't stop there, though. Still fingering myself, my fantasy continues...~

It hurts - it always does with you. The girth of you alone is enough to make me wince in discomfort, but the way your cock is slamming against my cervix with each thrust makes me cry out at the torment. My hands grasp at the sheet and I shift, trying to alleviate the pain. 

Suddenly your hands are around my neck and I freeze as I feel my air supply being cut off. It still hurts, but I can no longer yell out. Instead I look up at you, and almost cum again as I see the look in your eyes. You are enjoying this, and seeing that makes me almost forget how much it hurts. 

You fuck me this way for several minutes, your hands never leaving my throat. Several times I see the edges of my vision blur from lack of oxygen, but you always give me just enough air to keep me present. 

You pull out without warning and stand up, grabbing me by the ankle and dumping me unceremoniously off the side of the bed. "Stand up," you command, and I hurry to obey. 

"Put your hands behind your head. Legs apart." I hurry to comply, and fear sets in as I watch you bend down and pick the belt up off the floor. 

You straighten, belt in hand, and look me in the eye. Your eyes are void of emotion... The only word I can come up with is "cold". Then you smile - if you could call it that - and the fear in the pit of my stomach intensifies. 

"Count." A simple command, but it makes my blood run cold.

You swing the belt then, and I almost stagger backward as it bites into the sensitive flesh of my breasts. "Ah, one!" I cry out, shutting my eyes against the pain. 

"Keep your eyes shut," I hear you say, and I gladly obey; I would rather not see it coming. 

Several seconds pass and nothing happens. When it does I hear it before I feel it, but that doesn't make the sudden stinging along my side and abdomen any more pleasant. 

The location of the blow shocks me, and I almost forget to count. Almost. "Two," I say breathlessly.

I hear you circling me, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I wonder where you will strike next. The burst of pain across the middle of my back answers that question, and I yell out, "three!" only to gasp again as I feel it on the inside of my right thigh. "Four!" I cry, and I have to focus on forcing my legs to stay open. 

My stomach, my legs, my breasts... None of it is safe from your mistreatment, and I breathlessly count each lash. Yet I still don't realize just how exposed I am until I feel the sharp bite of the belt against my clit. 

~I'm close again, and I sharply pinch my clit as I imagine the belt striking. It's enough to send me over the edge again, and I moan as my orgasm shakes me. Rather than stop, though, I continue the assault to my now too-sensitive clitoris.~

Tears spring to my eyes and I have to bite my lip not to scream. My knees bend inward protectively, and try as I might I can't seem to will them apart. My eyes are still closed and I cower in front of you, not daring to open them but not yet able to regain my composure. I fear that every moment I waste just makes things worse for me. 

Finally my breathing evens and I stand upright once more. Sure enough, no sooner do I relax than I feel the strike of the belt on the back of my legs, then my ass, then my lower back, all in quick succession. I yelp with each strike but don't attempt to shy away. 

"You stopped counting," you say cooly, then swing the belt again, this time just above my pussy. 

"I'm sorry, Sir," I cry through the pain. "14! 14, Sir, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I know I'm babbling so I fall silent.

"Oh no, those last 4 didn't count. Try again."

"Ten - Ah! Eleven!" My shoulders sting from the latest blow, and I wonder what number you're planning on stopping at. 

My breasts are suddenly on fire. "Twelve! Ah, thirteen! F-fourteen!" I can feel tears of pain welling behind my lashes, even as an aching consumes me. 

I cry out as the belt bites into my pussy again. This time I remember to count. "Fifteen," I manage, although it still takes a moment to stand up straight again. Fortunately you're patient, and wait to strike again, this time my ass. 

By the time we reach 19 I am trembling, and my skin is now damp with perspiration from this treatment. I remain tense, waiting for the 20th lash... But it never comes.

Instead I feel you grab my hair once more and force me to my knees. Keeping my hands behind my head and my eyes tightly shut, I open my mouth at once, knowing my place. Still, that doesn't stop me from gagging when you force your cock deep into my throat. 

You fuck my throat with abandon, and I cough and sputter around it as you do. I do my best to suck you off and use my tongue the way I know you like, but the constant struggle for air makes it difficult. 

"Watch your teeth." It's the only warning I get before you bring the belt down across my back, still fucking my throat. I groan around your cock, ever-mindful of my teeth. 

Again and again I feel the lash of the belt, lighter than before but enough to make me moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your other hand grips my hair tightly as you choke me on your cock, and the combination of sensations makes my pussy ache. I desperately want to cum - and I could, I know I could - but I know that would not be wise. 

Suddenly you drop the belt and grab my face with both hands, thrusting ruthlessly into the back of my throat. I choke and sputter, tears streaming down my face, but that doesn't deter you. 

Finally you thrust hard and deep one last time, forcing your cock down my throat and holding it there. I start to panic instinctively, and without thinking I move my hands from behind my head and try to push you away. It doesn't do any good, of course - you easily hold me in place as you cum down my spasming throat. The only thing I can do to stop from choking any more is to swallow, which, with some difficulty, I manage to do. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you release me, and I cough and gasp for air at your feet. My breathing finally calms and I steal a glance up at you. My breath catches as my eyes meet yours, and I quickly avert my gaze. 

"Look at me," you say, and I do so quickly, staring up at you from my place on the floor, a myriad of emotions written across my face. You just stare at me, saying nothing, and my already throbbing pussy starts to ache with desire. Finally you smirk at me, then say, "Get dressed."

The disappointment is almost unbearable, but I obey. "You didn't think you were going to cum tonight, did you slut?" you say as I move to retrieve my clothing.

"No, Sir," I say truthfully. I leave out the part where I'd been hoping anyway. 

Once I am dressed I meet you at the door. You reach out and grab my face, pulling me close enough to feel your breath. When you speak, I can barely feel your lips brush against mine. "You won't cum until the next time I call you. Understand?"

"Y-yes, Sir," I stammer. You stare at me for a long moment, and my heart starts racing. Finally you kiss me deeply, only for a moment, before pulling away and opening the door for me to leave. 

As I walk to my car I wonder when I will see you again. Trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs, I hope it won't be long... 

~I'm close again... So close. One hand brutalizes my breasts, the other my clit. I vaguely wonder if I should stop, force myself to suffer the way fantasy-me had to. Selfishly, though, I choose not to wait, and a final orgasm consumes me. As my body calms, I wonder how you'd react if I came without permission. I can't help but smile at the thought...~