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by Kath Asteria


Drawing the key from the lock, I stepped through the door to our apartment, the click-clack of my Louboutin stilettos dull against the hardwood boards of the hallway as I shimmied into the darkness. He followed, brutishly closing the door as a low growl brewed up from his belly into his throat.

We were returning home from an award ceremony - his award ceremony.

He had given explicit instructions before the day: how I was to wear my hair, the colour of my manicure, the lipstick, the perfume, he had picked the lingerie, the dress, the shoes and I was to be ready for seven p.m. sharp - prepared accordingly.

I mostly did as told, I was dressed and ready on time, but instead of wearing the dress he selected - an elegant black, satin, floor-length, pleated empire cut gown. I chose to wear one I knew he loved to see me in, although, perhaps not for an occasion such as this. Short-sleeved, princess cut, with a deep v neck, clinched at my waist, in a deep maroon red, the satin hugs my curves, perfectly lining my ample hips and the deep v frames my décolletage, drawing the eye. I knew it would make his temperature rise.

He caught up to me in the darkness, grabbing hold of my arm just above the elbow, fingers digging in hard and pulling my body against his. I could feel the damp heat of his breath against my cheek as he growled.

'Kitchen. Now.'
I swallowed, barely able to breath as I feigned my protest.
'Oh come on! I...'
'I said now. You know how I want you.'
He released his grip on my arm and flicked the light switch, momentarily blinding me and revealing the stern look in his eyes.
I lowered my head and turned towards the kitchen.

There is a corner in this room, beside the window, my corner, a corner especially for punishment and reflection.

I placed myself in that corner, dressed in all my finery, face to the walls, arms crossed behind my back, in the dark, with the chill from the window prickling at my skin.

And I stood, back straight, arms crossed, the balls of my feet aching in their stilettos for a seemingly never-ending period of time while my mind played out the events of the evening.

I was ready on time, I stood within the foyer of our apartment complex, waiting for the car he had sent to arrive. I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass doors, this dress was a little risqué - sure to draw not just his attention, but others too. A little pang of doubt and regret shot through me, but it was too late now. There was no time to change, I had chosen to go against his requests, flamboyantly so and I would have to suffer the consequences.

As the silver Mercedes S-Class pulled up outside I felt the muscles of my lower abdomen tighten in a cocktail of anticipation, nerves and arousal.

I stepped outside into the crisp autumn air and then through the open door of the car - sliding myself onto the backseat, the mixed scent of leather and bergamot filled my nostrils as the driver shut the door behind me.

Upon arrival my chaperone guided me inside, signing us in at the reception and ushered me into the main hall, relaying our table number to me as we stepped through the doors. Tables were spread out across the floor in front of a stage dressed in deep red velvet curtains, the room was dimly lit in red and gold. The chairs and tables decorated in black cotton cloth and gold organza tie-backs, in the centre of each table was placed an ornate golden candelabra, with black candles. The main source of the lighting was coming from above the stage, leaving most of the hall atmospherically lit in flickering candlelight.

Beethoven's Symphony no.7 played just loud enough to allow for conversation and many people were either seated at their tables or in small groups at the open bar.

I couldn't help but notice how muted everyone else's dress was, shades of black, teal, navy, and emerald green, all elegantly dressed of course, but no colours as bold as my maroon. I certainly stood out. I searched the room for familiar faces and found a number of people looking towards me, I felt exposed, a flush of embarrassment spreading up from my chest, undoubtedly causing me to blush, which I hoped the warm lighting would conceal.

I turned to ask my chaperone to grab me a drink but standing before me was my Sir, eyes fiercely fixed on mine, my stomach flipped and I pressed my thighs together and straightened my back. He held a flute of champagne in each hand and as I reached for one he pulled it to his chest, then leant down towards my ear.

'I see you chose to go against my choice of dress, and look, you're blushing. Do you feel a little out of place, kitten?' He smirked.

He discarded our drinks on a nearby table and grasped my wrist.


Pulling me close beside him, he released my wrist and pushed me forward with his hand on my hip. We headed towards the stage and for a moment the thought that maybe he would be making a show of me up there under the florescent lighting crossed my mind causing my lower abdomen to pulse in a mixture of nerves and arousal. But instead he guided me towards a door to the side, almost completely hidden in darkness.

As he pushed me through, in contrast we found ourselves in a brightly lit, magnolia coloured hallway, doors lined the walls. He gripped my biceps and spun me around, pinning me hard against the door as it closed. The continuation of Beethoven's Symphony and conversation behind it just faintly breaking the stark quiet surrounding us.

'You know that dress isn't appropriate and I can see it all over your face, Kitten. You should have done as I instructed.' He stepped back, his face stern.

'Lift your dress. Show me.'

I bent gripping the hem of my skirt and rolled it up above my waist, revealing his choice of underwear - a delicate black lace thong with eyelash trim.

'Well, that's something at least. The hair too and the makeup. Your nails. Good.' His expression softened slightly as he reeled off this list. 'Now, take them off and give them to me.'

Suddenly becoming aware of how damp I was between my thighs I grimaced. Without them, I would surely make a mess of myself.

'No. I need those!' I protested.

'Do you now? I don't think you do. Take them off, or I will and we won't be so alone if I have to.'

I let out an audible sigh and hooked my thumbs inside the lace.

'Wait.' He reached inside his left trouser pocket and I caught a glimpse of something gold between his fingers.

He held it up in front of my face, my princess plug, gold and topped with a ruby red gem.

'Open' he tapped my lips with the tip of the dome.

My eyes fluttered up to his questioningly, but I already knew what he would have me do.

My mouth opened, tongue flat and he rolled the plug in and out over it before telling me to close.

My mouth now full, warming the cool metal, I continued to remove my knickers, moving slowly, my eyes fixed on his. The damp between my legs growing. My mind filled with images of him taking me here and now. I wanted that.

'You might want to move a little quicker, Kitten. Someone might find us.'

'Give it to me.'

He stretched out his hand. Snapping me out of my reverie.

I pushed the lace over my stilettos and to the floor, stepping out of them, dropping my hem and crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

'Tsk. Did you forget you have the plug in your mouth?' He stooped and grasped my knickers between forefinger and thumb at the gusset. Smiling he rubbed his thumb over the silky wet stain there. He raised them to his nose and took a quick breath in before stuffing them into the pocket where the plug had been.

My stomach tightened and I could feel the pressure of a deep, burning arousal growing inside me.

'Now, turn. Hands against the door.'

I turned, placed my hands flat against the cool wooden door and closed my eyes.

He pushed into the small of my back with his palm forcing me to bend further, lifted my skirt over my presented ass and held it there. With his other hand, his fingers ran up my neck, beneath my chin, then up to remove the plug from my mouth. My senses heightened with the chill of the air on my exposed flesh, I felt the drip of his saliva hit just above my puckered hole and trickle lower before he circled with the head of the plug, teasing and pushing slowly, steadily until my muscles took hold and the plug was secure.

I had no idea how long he planned for me to wear it. Only that it would be both a reminder to do as I was told and a constant distraction - only increasing my arousal as the night went on.

'Behave.' He dropped my skirt and stepped back.

'Yes.' I breathed, opening my eyes, straightening myself and turning to face him.

'Yes Sir' he corrected firmly, reaching for the door handle behind me.

'Yes Sir.'

As we returned to the main hall the room seemed much darker and the vast majority of people were now seated. It was clear the ceremony would be starting soon and having abandoned our drinks earlier, Sir slipped away to collect some more while I headed towards our table. Just above the surrounding noise, I heard someone calling my name.

'Isabella! Isabella Taylor?'

The voice moved closer and I turned to face its source.

'It is you!'

I grit my teeth - before me stood my high-school boyfriend. Grown. Handsome. I felt my nipples pressing hard against the lace of my bra.

'Wow. Look at you. You look incredible. Sorry... I mean, how are you?' He stuttered, flushed and lunged forwards to hug me. His hand briefly brushing along the side of my bust.

I smiled, placing my hands on his biceps in a brief embrace. Over his shoulder I could see Sir walking back towards us, two fresh flutes of champagne in hand and he was watching - until a colleague of his stopped him in his tracks, hand on shoulder, they conversed, laughing.

My attention slipped back to this face from the past as I stepped back.

'Connor, it's good to see you. I am well, thank you. Why are you here, are you up for an award?'

He nervously stroked the bristles of his blond beard and smiled.

'I'm presenting them, Izzy....' he continued to explain why, but his abbreviation of my name had me distracted with memories of our time together and I couldn't help but notice how he had grown into his masculine features, a strong angled jawline, trimmed beard, piercing blue eyes and well-styled hair. His shoulders were broad and the suit he wore flattered the muscle beneath. I barely noticed myself flirting, placing my hand on his arm again, feeling its firmness and giggling. We had stepped closer together.

'Ahem' the sound of Sir's voice beside me brought us both back into the room. His hand hung at my chest, the flute of champagne fizzing beneath my nose. As I took the glass from him his hand ran down my back, over my hip and beneath my buttocks, pressing enough to remind me of the plug between them. His voice echoed in my head 'Behave'.

Connor stepped back and shot me a quizzical glance.

'Connor, this is my partner, Benjamin. Benjamin, this is Connor, a friend from school.'

Sir stepped forward, placing himself between us and extended the hand which was just moments before pressing the plug further inside me.

'A friend, hmm?' He smiled 'Nice to meet you, Connor.'

Connor gripped his hand in a firm handshake.

'I'm aware of who you are Benjamin and your achievements. It's an honour. Good luck with the awards this evening.' He released his grip and returned his attention to me, taking my hand in his with a slight squeeze. Electricity shot through me. 'Izzy it has been wonderful to see you again. Always a pleasure.' Then turning on his heel, 'I must get going now. You both have a nice evening.'

The rest of the evening is mostly a blur, perhaps due to a glass or two of champagne in excess. But I remember moments where Sir corrected my behaviour. Mostly subtle reminders, pressing on my buttocks, telling me to sit, using hand signals only I could read, a firm grip on my arm, a whisper in my ear. He had received three awards that evening. He was mostly in good spirits, until the continued celebrations after the ceremony when Connor returned to the hall. I had also drawn the attention of some of his colleagues. I recalled the earlier colleague Sir had been stopped by placing his hand around my waist while we conversed at the bar and how Sir had broken his social restraint by roughly pulling him aside, I was out of earshot but I could see the tension in their body language.

I remember the journey home, I began to sober up and the anticipation of what was to come lay thick over me.

The plug had remained in place all evening building the pressure, making my pussy throb with burning arousal and there were more than a few occasions where I had felt my juices trickle down my thigh.

I was desperate for release. To be filled with much more than just this golden plug.

My mind was wholly consumed by erotic images, and yet that plug was a reminder that I had disobeyed my Sir. That there would likely be pain as well as pleasure.

While I stood in my darkened corner I listened to the sound of his footsteps behind me. Moving in and out of other rooms, the opening and closing of a drawer in our bedroom, then as the ache in my calves began to bite - the steady, calculated footsteps as he approached. I straightened my back, the muscles in my jaw tense, I held my breath and listened intently.

I could feel his eyes on me as he stopped behind me, the warmth radiating from him noticeable on my skin.

Suddenly my dress was unzipped, from the nape of my neck down to where my arms were linked. This startled me, and the exposure of my skin to the cool air sent a chill through my body. I involuntarily shivered and breathed in sharply.

'Tsk. Flinching already, Kitten...'

He stepped back.

'Turn. Face me.'

Holding my position, arms in place, back straight, I turned on the spot to see his figure silhouetted before me, I fixed my eyes straight ahead and kept my posture.

'Remove the dress.' A simple command that made me clench around the plug.

I hooked my fingers under the sleeves and slipped the dress down over my shoulders, over my bust revealing hard nipples beneath the delicate, flimsy black lace of my bra. I reached behind and lowered the zip further, freeing the satin from my hips, the dress fell into a puddle on the floor around my ankles.

He extended a hand and I took it in mine, he pulled me gently forward and I stepped out of the puddle onto the stone tiles in front of him. Click-clack, my stilettos echoed. I stood before him, the chill of the air prickling at my skin, wearing nothing but those shoes on my feet, the thin lace over my swollen breasts and the plug in my ass.

The air was thick with anticipation and sexual tension, it was deadly quiet, the sound of my heartbeat and breathing filled my ears.

His right hand ran up from beneath my ass cheek, just catching a little of the damp between, up my back, nails scraping the skin before unhooking the clasp of my bra.

My breasts proudly presented themselves as the lace slipped away. Nipples pointing towards his chest, screaming to be touched, horripilation enhanced by the light upon them against the darkness of the room. They rose and dropped with the rhythm of my breathing.

'Hands on the counter-top Kitten. Bend over.'

I did as instructed. I no longer wanted to protest, but to receive what he was about to give me. I needed it. I wanted it.

The trickling sensation down my thighs was becoming a regular experience by this point, and there it was again.

Then before it could come to its natural end, there was his finger, collecting the juice, following its trail until his hand was cupping my mound. It pulsed beneath his firm warm touch and then it was gone. I stared straight ahead, at the wall and heard him lick his fingers.

'Is this what you wanted Kitten?

When you chose to disobey me and wear that dress. It was a little slutty, given the occasion.

Wasn't it, slut?'

I had to swallow before I could answer, my mouth all of a sudden dry. That word caused such a conflict in my mind. I disliked it, and yet with the way my pussy reacted, it also aroused me.

'Yes Sir.'

'Yes Sir, what?'

'Yes, Sir it was... slutty.'

'And since you were dressed like a slut, you also chose to act like one. Flaunting yourself before other men. Didn't you? Tell me what you are.'

'Yes Sir. I am a slut.'

Another trickle ran down my thigh, my ass clenched tight, my palms pressed hard against the cool marble counter.

'Whose slut are you?' He placed his hand on my ass, digging his fingers into the flesh.

'I am your slut, Sir. Yours.'

'Good girl. You are my slut and I am going to use you as such, but first, you need to pay for your bad behaviour.'

Suddenly his hand was in my hair and his hips against mine, I could feel his growth hard through the fabric of his trousers. He pulled my head back against his forehead.

'You. Are. Mine.'

As my head was pulled back my mouth hung open and he placed something firm between my teeth, it took me seconds to decipher what it was, the leather plaited handle of a flogger.

His hand returned to my dripping pussy, and I felt lace amongst his fingers as he stuffed the thong I had worn earlier inside.

I involuntarily moaned and shuddered at the touch, craving more but it was overall too soon.

He circled his palm over my cheeks, brought his hand up and slapped hard, causing my flesh to ripple.

I braced myself against the counter, clenching hard around the plug and bit my lip. Just as the sting began to subside another slap hit me, then another, followed by another and another. He hit hard and fast, barely leaving a gap between them. I could feel the heat as my cheeks grew redder with each throw.

'Bite down if you must. Don't flinch.' He said laughing softly.

And I did, my teeth sinking into the leather the smell and taste intoxicating me. It felt better biting down. His relentless slaps on each of my cheeks burned, hot and I could feel the heat between my legs growing too, the damp soaking through my lace and soaking my inner thighs. I began to beg, a stifled whine.

'Please' although it was incoherent, over and over, I bit harder into the handle, my legs beginning to tremble.

'Have you had enough Kitten? We haven't even begun to use the flogger in the way it's intended...' he reached over my shoulder and removed it from my mouth, only then was I aware of the drool pooling and spilling from my mouth.

'Such a messy Kitten, leaking from both ends now. So very wet. It's almost as if you're enjoying this... you may speak if you need to. But only that one word to set you free.'

My pussy throbbed. My ass stung, but I needed more. I would take more, and I closed my mouth swallowing the saliva and shook my head softly, glancing back at his face. I could see the fire and adoration in his eyes.

He ran the leather flogger slowly down my back and over the sensitive flesh of my ass cheeks, then between them, gently slapping the tails against the swollen, needy lips of my pussy.

Then he swung, over and over, the tips of the leather tails stinging the flesh and creating a more intense burn. Over and over. I closed my eyes, with nothing to bite down on, I grit my teeth and growled. Tears filled my eyes as I edged closer to my limit, closer to my release, I was now on my toes, lifting my ass higher, legs shaking.

'Please. Enough!' I cried.

He paused. I hadn't used the safe word, but my voice broke as tears flowed, a dam had been broken.

'Please what?'

'Please, Sir.'

'Please Sir, what?'

'Please Sir, I am sorry I disobeyed you. I have had enough.'

He stood directly behind me, the fabric of his trousers brushing against my burning flesh, leaned over my shoulder and placed the flogger on the counter in front of me, kissing my neck softly before leaning back.

His hands softly caressed the bruised skin and then, with my hearing heightened and the heartbeat in my ears subsiding, I focused on the sound of his breath, then the sound of him removing his cummerbund, and the unzipping of his fly. Then the cummerbund was around my neck and he pulled me into position, placing one hand into the small of my back, forcing an arch and then down, between my thighs, pulling the lace fabric from inside me.

Each little tug sent waves of ecstasy through me and I realised how close I was. I moaned as he pressed the head of his rock hard cock against my lips then thrust deep inside, pressing against the plug in my ass, stretching and filling me fully. As he thrust harder, deeper, faster his flesh slapped against mine, he levered himself with the cummerbund, pulling me back, restricting my breathing, my ass stung and my muscles tightened around him as my orgasm built closer and stronger.

'Ask for it, kitten. I can feel you're close.' He released the cummerbund leaving it to fall to the floor beside us and gripped my hips, digging his fingers in deep.

I gasped and bit my lip, pushing back onto him, matching his thrusts.

'Beg.' He growled.

I cried out breathlessly 'Please Sir. Please may I cum. I want to cum over you. Please.'

'Cum for me Kitten' he roared, thrusting, pulling me back and removing the plug from my ass. My release was immense, it bubbled over and gushed from me, over his shaft, down our thighs and onto the floor. Then he erupts inside me, his fluids mixing with mine. He buckled, falling against me, pushing us both down onto the countertop, my breasts flat against the marble under our combined weight. He kissed my neck, sending further shivers through my weak body, and whispered.

'My good girl.'

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