They looked at the sign on the Dungeon. He smiled. She frowned.
“Why would they close the dungeon on Saturday? We still have the rest of today before we have to break camp and go ” her voice hesitated, and she drew a deep breath before she continued softly, “…home.”
He could tell she was racing ahead of herself, worrying about leaving tomorrow, leaving him. Although he relished her pain, absorbed it, breathed it, he was loath to delve into that just yet.
“You’ll see, cunt,” he replied, a shade too nonchalantly.
She stared up at him, trying to read his expression. It was impossible. When he wanted to, he could blank his face completely. She could tell that whatever it was, it amused him, because the lines around his eyes were crinkled, and the brilliant blue light was just flashing from them in that way that she called “devilish” . Hmmm. Somehow she knew she was not going to be quite as amused as he was. They moved on, heading to one of His friends campsites.
She glanced up at him. “Do you pick up a new slave every year when you come here?” she asked.
He looked down at her, smiled. That drove her wild, that smile. He was so incredibly sexy, and yet he was tormenting her, too. “And not a paddle in sight” she thought with some amusement.
“So, you’re not going to tell me? Or are you going to tell me you’ve been coming here for 10 years and I’m going to be part of a collection of old slaves you’ve gotten over the years?” She was treading on dangerous ground here, she knew, but thought she might just tweak an answer from him somehow.
“Don’t borrow trouble, cunt,” he replied, his long gait never faltering, even as they passed a slave tied to a tree next to the path, a long pony tail streaming from the plug in her ass. She was on all fours, a gag that resembled a bit in her mouth, tied by that gag to the tree. Clamps squeezed her nipples, the chain between them swinging gently with her breathing. Her wrists were cobbled together with hemp rope, her knees braced apart by a spreader bar, raising her ass several inches above her head. Cori stopped a moment, but Master pulled her onward.
“Thinkin’ about takin’ a ride on the pony, cunt?” he inquired, drolly.
“no, no, it’s just that I’ve never seen that in real life before. Only on my computer. It’s very…..” she cleared her throat…
“do go on, cunt,” he prompted her.
“…very ….erotic, isn’t it? I mean, I thought it was rather demeaning when I saw it online, but…it’s …” her voice dropped to a near whisper…”it’s really kind of hot!”
“Hot as in you want to be the pony? Because I can arrange that….”
“No!” she interjected quickly…”I mean, geeze Master. Can’t I just admire something and not have you take it as a way to embarrass me or sexually stimulate you?” Then she flushed, realizing that she had criticized the man who, in all essence, owned her.
He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in silent condemnation. She flushed, embarrassed. Dropping her gaze to his feet, she decided to try to undo her mistake, and fell to her knees, laying her head against his leg. Her voice, muffled against his pants rose to him.
“I, your slave, am very sorry, Master. I didn’t mean that how it came out. Forgive me? Please?”
A long silence. She held her position. She felt his hand, after a very long while, come to the back of her head. She thought he was going to stroke her hair in forgiveness, but instead, felt her head pushed to the ground. When her forehead was planted on the earth between his feet, he gruffly said “hold” and released her. She saw his booted feet move, felt him come behind her. She felt him removing her rubber soled sandals, then *SWAT!* he smacked her upraised ass with one. Over and over again, hitting the spot that had been beaten by Master Michael at the dungeon yesterday, setting that bruise deep. She broke into moans after 10 hard strokes, then tears began after 25. At 50, she was sobbing openly, but held her position. There was a pause.
“I sincerely hope you will think before you speak so rashly to me in the future, cunt,” she heard him say. She nodded. She did a lot of nodding around him, she thought, trying not to think of her blistered ass. If it was dark, she mused, her butt would be glowing. She started to lift her head, but he counseled her to hold position.
His fingers found her cunt and it was wet. “Hot, wet and juicy,” he told her, “just like a good little cunt should be after a good beating”. Pulling her to her feet, he steered her to a nearby picnic table, bending her over it. His cock slid easily inside her, and he fucked her steadily until his cum spurted inside of her. He withdrew before she reached her orgasm, and she knew that was the final part of her punishment. She had never thought that orgasm denial was interesting. Not.At.All. And yet, his punishments never seemed to stop her from getting hot. Really, seriously hot.
Horny, with a sore ass to boot, she followed behind him to his friends campsite.