Her Request Granted.

My Ella was indeed allowed to masturbate to orgasm. She was required to do so with a finger up her ass, and only after begging and offering up willing acceptance of various torments in order to receive permission. Already, for failure to send me a photograph on Saturday, she has earned ten cane strokes. Now she has purchased more severe session indeed.

This is not a punishment, of course. She did not climax without permission. But the result is the same. She begged me to use the sauce, in exchange for the right to masturbate. And I will. She is going to be bound, caned, and then I will apply hot sauce to her vulva. I warned her ahead of time, I only have very hot sauces at the moment. The habañero is the milder sauce.

And then, while her sweet little pussy burns, reminding her of the price of her satisfaction, she will suck me off, and swallow my ejaculate. To remind her that she is the vessel of my pleasure, and required to serve and suffer at my pleasure. Whether that is deprivation, or torment. I intend to make her tortures severe enough that she thinks carefully before requesting a rogue orgasm again.

Her pleasure, like her body, belongs to me. I own it. I own her. And I intend to make her swoon with agony and submission.

-The Refined Dominant

Hurry Up and Wait.

She rushes to make the bus. She is running late to meet her lover at the airport. She almost forgets an important stop on the way, completion of an errand assigned by her master. She stops in a store on the way and hurriedly makes the purchase before the mad dash to the airport. She is still in transit when she gets the text. On the ground, he writes. She replies, Almost there.

He responds – Hurry, darling. She knows that tardiness will be met with punishment. But there is nothing she can do to expedite her arrival. She can only hope. Fortunately, she arrives mere moments before he descends the stairs. He approaches her, hunger in his eyes, and pulls her in for a long, fierce kiss before leading her outside to the taxi stand.

Little conversation is exchanged in the cab. He unbuttons her thick winter coat so that he can reach underneath and twist her tender nipples. She bites her lip to keep  cry of delicious pain from escaping. But it’s not enough. So instead she turns it into laughter. Her master is bemused by the sound, then pleased by the whispered explanation.

Not fast enough, never fast enough, but at last, they are home. He wastes no time. In seconds, he has her stripped bare. Fingers dip ever so briefly into her hot, liquid core. He wipes them on the lacey lavender thong she’d been wearing, which he then stuffs into her mouth. He commands her to kneel on the bed. She obeys. She always obeys. “Don’t move,” he admonishes before disappearing from the room.

When he returns, he opens the bag she’d carried when meeting him. He finds the item that fulfills her assignment. The clothesline, which she’d bought barely more than an hour ago, soon expertly binds her hands behind her back. He cuts another long piece, which he folds double. Earlier in the week, he’d given her an option: Would her punishment this weekend be concentrated on her supple breasts or her delicate pussy? She selected the latter and now has a strong suspicion of what he’s about to do.

Indeed he loops the clothesline around her waist, then under her crotch and over her shoulders, pulling it tightly and securing the ends to the bonds around her wrists. He positions the rope so that the labia are held back, leaving her engorged clitoris perfectly exposed. He pulls and pinches ruthlessly. “I know, darling,” he responds to the look on her face. “But your suffering pleases me. And,” he slides his fingers between her legs, “it leaves you absolutely dripping.”

He undresses as he admires her form and his own handiwork. He removes the panties from her mouth and jerks on the crotch rope. She knows to keep quiet and suddenly wishes the gag were back in her mouth. He lies down. “I think you know what to do.”

She must move with care, the bonds inhibiting her ability to balance as she positions herself between his legs. As she bends over, the rope presses into her p­erineum, giving her pause. But she continues bending forward until she can take his cock into her mouth. “Start with the balls,” he reminds her.

She does as instructed, kissing and gently sucking them the way he likes. He sighs with pleasure. After some moments, she moves her lips along the shaft, which has grown ever harder. She positions her lips to push the foreskin back so that she can access the sensitive frenulum. She attends to him, as is her privilege and duty.

She is surprised when he stops her and gets up after only a few moments. Could it be possible that he is ready to take her completely? It’s been more than two weeks since her last orgasm. Could he be electing to be merciful and alleviate her deprivation?

No, that is not his intent at all. “Face down,” he orders. She complies, bending over with her face to the bed, back arched and ass in the air. He surveys his property. He pulls roughly on her tender labia. He tastes her. Then she feels the smooth back of her hairbrush rubbing against her ass. “Too bad we have to be quiet, because I’d really like to spank you with this right now.” But he finds another use for it, thrusting the smooth handle into her cervix.

He toys with her for a few moments. “Up.” She returns to a kneeling position, and he ensures that the handle remains planted inside her. He returns to his earlier place on the bed. “Now back to your duty, slave.” She bends over him again, taking his member in her mouth again. “I think we need make sure you spend plenty of time this weekend filled at both ends.”

She attends to her master, taking great satisfaction in his quiet moans of pleasure, his simple praises of “Good girl”. He sighs deeply, a sound of contentment. After some time, he caresses her face, cups her chin, lifts her off his cock. “Such a perfect slave,” he says. The words thrill her.

He swiftly turns her, flipping her onto the bed and removing the brush. And yet still he does not take her. He lies next to her, her legs held open and his hand in between. He torments and teases her clitoris, occasionally thrusting his fingers inside her. He moves between her legs and feasts upon her succulent flavor.

Finally… finally, he rises to his knees, and without further ceremony, he pierces her. So heightened is her arousal, that she feels the orgasm building almost immediately. He claims her with his actions and his words. He thrusts deeply. His hands cover her mouth and pinch her nose shut. She can’t breathe – and it is electrifying. Her hands still bound behind her, she claws at his thighs when it becomes too much. He issues relief… and then takes her breath away again. And she comes. Hard and long, as he releases her breath to her control again.

He rewards his tormented slave for her patient suffering. Then he completes his own pleasure, climaxing deep inside her. And she comes again.

So much waiting. So much torture. And worth every moment of it.

– The Elegant Submissive

Such Delectable Pleasures.

My Ella and I have been separated for more than two weeks now, by the vagaries of our various professions. Two weeks is a horrible time to go without my beloved slave. And it is, if anything, worse for her. She has not been allowed to orgasm this entire time. I’ve been toying with the notion, internally, of simply not allowing her to climax at all unless we’re together. So far, I’ve simply put conditions and rules around her self-provided orgasms: sometimes she must purchase them with strokes of the cane. Sometimes she must submit written requests.

I find it unbearably arousing that she must suffer deprivations while I satisfy my own according to my whim. Indeed, all of her suffering is arousing to me. And given how separated we’ve been, and how eagerly I find my hands grasping for her, I have decided that this weekend, when we are finally together again, she will suffer deplorably for me. And I want her torment to be special.

So, we’ve decided that this weekend’s torture will be concentrated on her poor, neglected pussy. She is to be shaved, and prepped for me. Earlier this week I had her write the word “SLAVE” across her mons pubis in black marker. If the word still lingers, all the better. She’s had a number of assignments this week, including selecting bondage positions and devices she’s hoping to try that she hasn’t yet been subjected to.

And so, when I arrive, she will be carefully and tightly bound. Rendered helpless and immobile. Subjected to humiliations for my pleasure. And I will torture her perfect, pink, delicious, smooth little pussy until she begs me for mercy. And then I will use her for my pleasure. As is my desire. And finally, I will grant her permission for that elusive climax. And if history is any indication, she will contort with illimitable ecstasy until her mind nearly breaks. And then she will thank me for it, breathless and spent and owned.

-The Refined Dominant