He had her kneel at his feet, between his spread legs. She licked her lips. She was already so fucking needy. He’d teased her all day, the dirty words he spoke to her, reminding her of her place, her wanton needs, all serving to slowly stoke her fires.


That and the little rubber bands wrapped around her nipples. It had been 2 hours, and though they hadn’t bothered her much at first, there had been a slow and steady rising of pain. it came on gradually. At first, her swollen nubbins rubbed against her shirt pleasantly, arousing her. Then less pleasurably, more painfully. The pain grew and then waned as she was able to rise to it, breathe with it, distract herself.

At long last she was on her knees and preparing to serve Him. She saw the arousal he had been growing, the large bulge in his jeans a dead give-away that he was getting off on her little moans and whimpers.


Not to mention all the tit-slaps he’d managed to land on her as she’d done her morning chores. Now, with naked body, and naked need shining out of her eyes, she looked up at her Master.

Her body begged, though her mouth stayed silent.

“Spread those slutty thighs, my little whore,”  He ordered her. Awkwardly she shifted her legs, until they were open as far as He wanted. He took a vibe from the table beside him, turning it on low and sliding it, ever so slowly, along the length of her self-lubricated slit. She could not hold back the long, low moan, anymore than she could hold off the moonrise, or sunset. He watched her like a hawk, soaking in her reactions, her quivers, every sign of her submission to his torments, his desires for using her.

He fed off of her.

“Close tightly now, slut, and don’t you dare let that vibe slip.”

He’d placed it most carefully along her slit so that the bulbous head lay tightly against her swollen clitoris. Keeping it on low kept her on simmer.


Keeping it in place meant no bucking of hips, no writhing, no moving. Devious fucker. She was already heated to full, wanton boil.

 “Suck my cock, slut. Suck it good, and drink the sweet gift of my sex juice.”

She loved his cock, but it was so intensely hard to concentrate on her sucking techniques, when the vibe was driving her nuts, tormenting her little sex bud, while her nipples had become centerpoints of pain. Her tits ached. Her cunt was dying for release. She was a fucking mess. Still, there was nothing like Master’s cock. She set to work.


It took him forever to cum. She drained him completely. She was quivering, shaking with need. He lay back in his chair, his cock limp and  breathing hard. He was smiling, but she knew  she had to leave him to recover before cleaning him. She placed her hands behind her back, titties forward, nipples banded painfully tight against her swollen nubbins, and waited as He had taught her.

Her shoulders pulled back, her back arched beautifully, her tits thrust proudly forward, showcasing her captive nipples. The overwhelming pain in her tits flashed so suddenly, so unexpectedly that tears welled, and spilled from her eyes. Still he watched her. She blinked them away, but more rose. She wanted to beg, but had been bidden hours ago to remain silent.


How fucking hard was it to remain silent when she wanted to scream? How fucking hard was it to remain still when she wanted to fuck her hips into orgasm? How fucking hard was it to sit here, being his good girl, when all she wanted was Him?

He listened to her breathe. In..and  out again, in short, terse expulsions. He knew she was close to breaking. He was pleased by how long she had held on. This was by far her longest time of silence. It was always anathema to her. His little magpie struggled with silence even more so than with pain.

“speak, slut”


It took a moment for His words to sink in.  She’d been so quiet for so long. Suddenly they erupted from her, like lava from a volcano.

“pleaseMasterplease. Iwantyoutofuck me, Surrrrr….” Her words ended on a  moan as she paused for breath, panting in her desperation to get it all out, get it all out before He shusshed her again.


” and take of my nipple bands, please Sir?

There it was,  one sentence filled with need. Then she looked up at Him. His eyes, contemplative, looked back at her, placid, calm. She hated how calm He was about hurting her.


“You make take off one band, my little slut.”


What a dilemma. One band??   One giant rush of pain, followed by gradual release to normalcy?  One continuing throb? How could she choose? She looked at him, hoping for a sign that he would intercede. He looked steadily at her.


No hope there. Left side? Right side? Left? Right? Her mental ping-pong game lasted just a few moments, and as he opened his mouth, she blurted her response.

 “Right one, Sir. Please?”

He pinched her left nipple hard, and she moaned with the onset of sudden, intense pain. She should be used to his surprises, but she never was.

“Sure?”     His words were just faintly mocking but she nodded anyway. His other hand came up and pinched her right nipple, then with a flick, he rolled the elastic from the swollen nipple. She moaned, trying to stay still and not flinch away. Yet, as his fingernail grazed her abused bud,  she did, indeed pull away, pulled back.


His eyebrow raised, and the pressure on both nipples increased.


“i am sorry Master, sorry Master.”   His brow remained elevated.

“so so so sooorrry…”   her voice rose up and up as he continued to look down at her, and squeeze. Tears tracked down her cheeks with the chastisement, and she was crooning in the back of her throat. Finally he relaxed his grip.

“Slut, don’t make me reprimand you again.”

“No Sir, i won’t, i swear it.”


The vibe buzzing softly between her cuntlips purred on.