He walked in as she was sucking her fingers clean.
Fingers that had only moments ago given her an awesome orgasm. An orgasm that He had specifically forbidden her when she had texted Him.
He stopped and stared, His bag slung over one shoulder. He let it fall with a thunk to the floor, His mouth half-open in shock and disbelief.
“Sucking off the evidence, slut?”
She stared back at Him. That was not at all what she had expected Him to say. He looked like a thundercloud, His eyes stormy with outrage.
She had not expected Him back until this evening. He’d said so.
“i…i’m sorry Sir, i was so horny, and ….” She stopped abruptly when His brows shot up to His hairline.
He snapped His fingers, pointing to the floor between His feet. She slid from the bed in haste, and crawled to Him.
“Face on the floor, raise your ass.”
His tone was curt, brutally so. Oh fuck she was in for it now. She heard the slither of his belt leaving His pants.
“How long did you masturbate before you came, slut?”
“Twenty minutes or so, Sir.” she made her voice as meek as possible. He stroked across her ass, lightly. For a moment, she had hope, but it was quickly dashed, when the next several blows hit hard and fast.
Then a pause, and another soft stroke. She counted silently as He gave her 20 lashes. She was crying, but trying to remain as silent as possible. When He was pissed at her, it was best to remain quiet, meek.
And she really had fucked up.
She rose, resisting the urge to rub her sore ass. Really, 20 strokes wasn’t all that bad, she mused.
“Downstairs, outside in the backyard.”
She moved to the bed to grab her tee-shirt.
“Did I say anything about clothing, slut?”
“no Sir,” she shivered, her voice a whisper of sound. Turning, she pattered down the stairs, barefoot, bare bodied. She peered out the backdoor but no one was around. It was, after all, not even 11:00 on a beautiful Friday morning.
She slipped out the door, uncertain exactly where He wanted her to go. He did say backyard, so she moved to stand on the cool grass. The sun was warm on her nakedness, smoothing across her breasts, her shoulders, her thrashed ass. The breeze teased delicately through her hair, and made her nipples rise at the caress of hair and air against her shoulders, her back.
“Over to the flagpole.”
Why there was a flagpole in the middle of the backyard was a mystery, but obviously He’d had plans in mind when He bought the house for them last fall.
“On your knees, then scoot back. Put a leg on each side of the pole. Good,” He spoke, His tone firm, but less outraged. She felt the cold metal cuffs go around one ankle, then the other.
He took her left wrist, cuffing it, then her right, making sure the pole was between her arms, as it was between her legs. The grass tickled her calves, thighs. A lazy fly buzzed by her head, cruised ’round for a second look, and landed on her forehead.
She shook her head, unable to use her hands to swat it away.
He laughed. Then, He withdrew a blindfold, and slid it over her face. She heard His zipper come down, and felt the probing of His cockhead against her lips.
She wondered if that was a double-entendre insult, or an order. Nonetheless, she sucked. He fed her His cock hard, deep, fast. She barely enjoyed it, hating when the speed of the fucking didn’t let her taste Him, and made her choke and gag. Worst of all, He pulled out and came on her face, her body, not letting her even drink His essence.
Oh, He was wickedly pissed.
She heard His footsteps crossing the lawn, the slap of the backdoor. A few houses away, she heard a lawnmower kick on, and from the house, the sound of Him grinding coffee beans.
She almost moaned out loud. She’d kill for coffee.
The sun beat down on her and she began to feel uncomfortable. She heard the radio go on next door, the sound of young male voices. She remembered that Tom and Vivienne were away for the weekend, and that their college-age son was coming to house sit their dog, who would be having puppies any day now.
She heard a splash, and a friendly argument and knew that Michael must have brought some friends over.
She wondered if they could see into her yard, over the fence, over the bounteous hedge of lilac’s, if they stood on the pool deck.
She heard a wolf whistle. The excited calls of males who spot something exciting. She wondered if it was her.
The creaking of the old gate between the hedges was the first clue, then the hushed whisper of male voices. She couldn’t quite make it all out, but she did hear ‘tits’ and ‘cunt’ and ‘lets try…’
Her heart raced as she wondered how close they would come. She heard footsteps coming closer.
She called out to her husband, her Master, in a loud, panicky voice.
The back door opened, and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee came to her.
“Hi boys. See something you like? Go ahead, give her a try.”
“She loves to suck.”
She heard the slap of the backdoor as He went back inside.