I was woken by the sound of D
showering next door and for a while I lay in bed happily listening.
There’s something about the sound of someone showering that holds the
promise of all sorts of good things. And since working on ICU, D tends
to come home tired, but a bit wired as well; definitely in need of
something to burn off a little excess energy.
Eventually, I called out to him, “Are you oiling yourself up in preparation for being my abject sex slave?”
There’s a pause. The water goes off. “I don’t know what makes you think you’re going to be in charge, lady. Get on your hands and knees with your arse in the air.”
Obediently,
I kneel up on the bed, wiggling my bum in his direction as he walks
into the bedroom. He snaps at it with a damp towel and I flinch and
giggle as he kneels up behind me, his semi-hard cock pressing into the
crack of my buttocks, his hands cupping my tits as he lies along my
back, kissing my neck.
“As your doctor, I can confirm my
examination shows you in urgent need of a dose of at least twelve
strokes of the cane, to be administered almost immediately.”
My
tummy does a little somersault and my clit tingles. It’s a long time
since we’ve played this game and I’m very excited. The bed bounces and
I bounce with it as D climbs off to fetch the cane. I curl my
fingertips into the bedclothes, settling my knees slightly further
apart and licking my lips. Suddenly a stripe of burning pain cuts
across the sole of my foot and I half gasp, half squeal, turning my
head to look back over my shoulder at him, my arms and legs trembling.
He’s
frowning down at me, swishing the cane loudly through the air, his cock
rigid and menacing now. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. He gently lays the cane
flat against the sole of my other foot and I grit my teeth and screw my
eyes tight shut, waiting for the flash of pain. He makes me wait,
murmurs, “Nice and hard…” and then I yelp as it slices across my instep.
I’m
still twisting my foot, rotating it at the ankle, wriggling my toes as
it throbs when he places the cane carefully against the top of my
thighs, just under the curve of my arse. He lifts it and places it
back, lifts it and places it back. I can hear his breathing and I bury
my face in the bedclothes, breathing along with him, tensed.
The
first swipe is hard, I flinch before it lands, squealing and writhing
as my flesh reddens and my blood pounds through my veins. He grabs hold
of my thigh and hauls me back into position, slicing the cane again
across exactly the same spot. My lips tremble as I gasp and my eyes
prickle hot with tears.
He snatches a handful of my hair,
pulls me up onto my knees and barks, “Hands on head!” Shaking, I obey
and, still tugging at my hair, he lands four strokes in quick
succession, two on the swell of each buttock. My back arches as I pull
away and he swipes at the hollow of my back as I grit my teeth and hiss
air through them, gasping it out again as I feel the stripe glow hotly.
He
lets me go and I slump forwards onto the bed. He kneels beside me,
cupping my cheek and lifting my face from the pillow to feed the head
of his cock into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around its head,
fluttering its tip into the slit, hollowing my cheeks as I suck hard on
it, letting it pop from between my lips. D watches me, tapping the tip
of the cane against the bed. I try to count, my head a bit fucked up,
seven strokes, seven, five more to go.
He rolls me onto my back,
my head propped up on the pillows, straddles my face, his cock bouncing
off my cheek. I lap and suck on his balls, tight in my mouth as he
strokes his cock. The stripes on my flesh are pulsing gently now and I
spread my legs wide, feeling my sticky, swollen pussy lips slowly peel
apart.
Shit, I don’t want to play this game anymore, I want to
fuck. I let his balls slide from my mouth, stretching my neck to lick
along the shaft of his cock, kissing and nibbling at it, gazing up at
him hopefully and mouthing, “Fuck me…”
He rolls off me onto his
back and I scramble on top, sinking down with a single thrust onto his
cock, shuddering and arching my back as I impale myself. Then I lean
forwards again, fingers busy between the folds of my cunt as I start to
ride him with fast, smooth strokes, lifting high up on his cock,
watching it slip out wetly almost to its tip before I slam back down on
it, my thighs slapping against his. D lets me do all the work, only
reaching up to cup my tits, letting them bounce against his hands, then
squeezing them, kneading and pinching, stretching my nipples out
between finger and thumb then letting go and watching my tits jiggle.
I
cum, panting and shivering, the muscles deep inside my cunt clenching
and spasming uncontrollably against his cock. His face is flushed; he’s
close. I slither down his body, both fists wrapped around the base of
his cock, jerking it into my open mouth as I tease its tip with my
tongue. He stiffens, grunts, his spunk arcs into my face, drips onto my
tongue, I smear it across his cock as I slurp hungrily at it, squeezing
the last drops of spunk onto my bottom lip.
He’s propped up on
his elbows now, watching me, breathing hard. “You see? This is what
happens when I don’t punish you regularly; you turn into a cock-sucking
little slut.” And he grips my arm, dragging me off and around the bed
until I’m bent over its foot. He snatches up the cane that’s tumbled to
the floor and, with no teasing, no ceremony, gives me six hard strokes,
so fast I can’t catch my breath between them. I’m left red-faced and
gasping, dancing from one foot to the other as I try to ease the
burning, blinded by the tears in my eyes.
D wraps his arm around
my waist and propels me into the bathroom. We stand before the mirror
and he wipes away the rivulets of water from the steam of his shower. I
blink the tears from my eyes, my lashes wet and sparkling with them and
look at my pink face, streaked with dried spunk. I feel ashamed at my
lack of self-control, my desperate need for humiliation. I rest my hot
forehead against the glass as D strokes my red stripes. “I’m going to
bed. Wash your face.”