of punishments and pleasures......

Ms L presents herself (as instructed) in her normal office clothes. As an accounts manager she is expected to dress well, and in a manner that reflects her professional standing. She is wearing a tailored jacket, a plain and modest blouse, skirt, and smart shoes with not too much of a heel. As she enters the hallway she looks every inch the efficient accountant that she no doubt is: formal, neat, slightly prim, and possibly impenetrable.

“May I suck your cock… sir?” she says, unable to look me in the eye.

“May I lick your balls and paint my lips with your pre-cum? And will you fuck me in the mouth… sir? And fuck me in the cunt… sir. And fill my arse? Will you sir?”

Her voice is not quite steady. Mere weeks ago she would have been unable to form such words inside her head, much less say them out loud. It still does not come easy to her. But she knows what she wants now, and that I expect my pupils to express their desires clearly and succinctly. Ms L very much wants these things, and though the words falter a little as she forces herself to speak them, there is no doubting her sincerity.

“Have you been a good girl since our last meeting?” I inquire.

“No sir!” she confesses – confession is good for the soul after all.

“Twice I fucked myself with my fingers. Once I fucked myself with the dildo you gave me as I rubbed the hole of my arse against the leg of my kitchen table - like a dog almost, on all fours and rubbing myself as I filled my cunt with polished steel. Four times I played in the shower… splayed, and the force of the waters driving my clit to explode… over… and over. Twice I came just thinking about your cock in my mouth. I didn’t move, and I could barely breath and I just came, and it was almost… perfect. Six times I woke knowing that I had already cum, and was so wet, and my nipples so ripe that when I pinched them it made me cum again.”

“Is that all?”

“There were impure thoughts too… often.”

I shake my head to let her see how disappointed I am with her behaviour.

“Did I give you permission to play between visits?”

‘No… but…!”

“You will have to be punished you know,” I state as flatly as I can.

In the quiet room I strap her down onto her back, her legs stretched open and elevated. She is still wearing her office clothes – just about. Her blouse is open and her breasts uncupped from her bra. I have torn her tights open at the crutch, and ripped apart the gusset of her soaked knickers, so that her cunt is open to me, and raw in it’s swellings.
The thick creamy streams of her juices run between the cheeks of her arse, and baste her anus, which pulsed visibly. She looks ruined already and I have barely begun.

First her breasts are to be punished. I have an almost delicate looking whip that I designed specifically for this purpose. Twelve fine leather strands that look almost soft when relaxed, but quickly stiffen as they are flicked across her nipples. Her back arches to the sting, and she curses as her breasts pink and flush to the application of the whip.

“Fuck!” she says.

I spit on her nipples and I strike down on them again. The pale flesh of her brightens in little strips, and her nipples extend as they harden. I tug at them and pinch them because they are so tender, and because of the sounds she makes when I do so. And then I whip at them again, she almost screams in the confusion of pleasures. She is a frenzy now, unable to distinguish between the pleasure and the pain of it all. There is madness in her eyes as they roll back into head, and she is seized with orgasm.

I put my hand over her mouth and nose, to stop her breath, and the sound of her. And when she cannot breath I take my crop and I strike at the lips of her cunt. Because she has not yet stopped cumming, she cums all the more, and as she cums I tap (just that) the tip of the crop against her clit, and tap again. If I had not taken so much care to secure her, she would almost certainly have fallen to the floor, she undulates so violently.

When I release her restraints she finds that she cannot stand. He legs shake and will not hold her up. I put her down onto all fours and I fuck her with my fingers, almost my whole fist, as I sting the cheeks of her arse with the cunt-wet crop. Her anus is almost gaping now as she writhes and whimpers.

“Fuck me in the mouth,” she begs now. “Please fuck me in the mouth.”

Because she asks so nicely I bring my cock to her lips and almost force it into her. I press her head hard onto me, and hear her breath stop… again! But I am not ready to cum for her, so I pull her mouth off me, and apply the crop again to her breasts, and to her belly. Things move faster now, more urgently.

“You want me to cum in your mouth?” I demand.

“Yes! Yes please… sir!”

“Then I’ll cum in your arse… first! Only good girls get the things that they want in the order they want them in. You have to be taught!”

“Yes,” she says. “I do have to be taught.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, calm now.

She is still on all fours on the floor, and quivering. Her clothes are soaked and her skin is stained with sweat and streaked with her own cum, and the marks of the whip and crop are livid on those portions of pale flesh that are exposed. But she is far from broken and comes to me readily, if a little unsteadily, when I call her.

“Lube my cock,” I instruct, and she does.

“Now sit on it,” I almost growl, and she does.

Her anus is soft as it slips over the tip of me, and more easily down my shaft than it has ever done before.

“Fill me,” she whispers.

And I do.

When we are done, at last, and all spent, she promises to be good until the next time she visits. We both know that she is no longer capable of keeping such promises. She loves her punishments too much for that.

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