Killing Me Softly

Usually I’m submissive but, standing in for a domme, my agenda was strict punishment

I looked down on the perfection of her body, marvelling at the glow of her skin and her hourglass shape as she prostrated herself in front of me — the whip presented on her hands like the royal orb on a velvet cushion.

Towering above her in tightly-laced boots with vertiginous heels I was glad her eyes were lowered, that way she wouldn’t detect my knees knocking. Talk about in at the deep end! I didn’t usually do domination but a double booking mishap meant I was covering for Vindictive Violet, poured into a scandalously tight leather corset and panties.

Slowly I circled the prone sub, delighting in her smooth undulating back and curvy buttocks. The supplication in her attitude was clearly defined, as was her arousal, betrayed by dewy glistening on her labia. I lifted the flogger from her hands to swipe it, slicing the air and narrowly missing her. Not a wince or a gasp, she was well trained.

“Name?” haughty and commanding, if I projected it, I would be it.

“Anita, Mistress.” That gave me a frisson of power, corrupting me from the off.

“Are you a good sub, Anita?” I trailed the tails of the whip in a silky, stealthy path from shoulder to buttock.

“Yes, Mistress,” she answered, but I heard a questioning note.

“You don’t sound so sure, Anita.” The whip came down hard, its crack in the silent room almost broke the spell.

“Yes, Mistress,” she corrected herself, to my satisfaction.

“Are you obedient?” I teased as I questioned, trailing and stroking. I drew goosebumps with the path of the leather traces.

“Yes, Mistress!” She’d found her voice now, clear and confident like a private to my drill sergeant.

“How many strikes should I give you?”

“Twenty, Mistress. Thank you.” She dared not lie, I could check with Violet.

So I laid the blows on her, mostly striping her buttocks but sometimes allowing the leather strands to wrap around her ribs or mark her back. I varied the direction the whip landed, but mostly focussed on the sweet spot on her buttocks. My subject maintained her position well, only beginning to squirm on the last few. By then I could see the swell and ooze of her pursed pussy lips, my reward for a job well done.

“Stand, eyes down and touch your toes.” Keeping her off balance sharpened the punishment, but I must let her circulation recover. Positioning myself behind the sub, I rested my leather-gloved hand on the small of her back.

“Well done, Anita, you took your beating well.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Her reply hid tears. I detected a wobble at my praise

Through my glove, the heat from her thrashing glowed. Featherlight pressure smoothed the stinging heat around until it abated. An invasive leather finger parted her lips. I pressed into hot depths and her gasp was rewarding, almost distressed as I removed it.

“What’s this, Anita?” My tone snippy, to shame her. “Did you enjoy your punishment?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Her head was already hanging, but her face flamed.

“I don’t think that’s the intention of a punishment. Clean my glove.” Unceremoniously the digit got shoved between her lips to lick and suck it clean.

I strode towards the carefully racked toys and bondage gear, made my selection and returned. Using a spreader bar I shackled Anita’s ankles, to hold her legs in a spread position. I unscrewed the lids off two water bottles and set them aside. Plugging in a powerful Doxy I switched it on, then held it against my pubis. Its distinctively rumbly buzz filled the room. l sighed with building rapture, feeling my own pussy lips part and swell.

“I am allowed to have pleasure.” I gripped Anita by the chin and pulled her head to look into my eyes. “You are not. You are here to please me!”

“You need to learn discipline — luckily I am here to teach you. Stretch out your arms.”

I pressed a water bottle into each hand then opened a third bottle to fill them up to the brim.

“You will not. Spill. A drop.” I paced in front of Anita, staring her down with my strictest look.

I took a long drink of the water from that third bottle.

Picking up the Doxy I let it run and buzz in my hand, before teasing it over my breasts in the leather corset. I bit my lip exaggeratedly at the ache I felt in each nipple when it was focused on their tips.

“You,” I said menacingly, taking a step towards my captive sub, “will not come. You are my silent, submissive plaything. You may not come without my permission.”

With that, I held the buzzing head of the Doxy against Anita’s right nipple and watched as the dark flesh peaked to a point almost instantly. Anita bit her lip, a chunk of her rosebud bottom lip clamped by her teeth in an effort not to moan or cry out. I moved the wand over to her other breast, the full flesh jiggled and her pierced nipple clattered against the head, while my pussy throbbed in sympathy.

Catlike I watched her, my canary in a cage, as she struggled to maintain her position, arms spread out horizontally while buffeted by this onslaught of sensations. She hadn’t slopped any water yet, but I soon changed that. I pressed the bulbous head of the doxy against her pouting pussy lips, where I could see her clitoris already standing proud and distended.

Without the spreader bar, I knew her knees would’ve buckled. She mewled, distraught as the insistent rumble awoke and assaulted her most sensitive nerve endings. Her breathing became ragged and her arms and legs began to shake.

“Fight it, Anita. Stand up straight.” I commanded, cheerleading her now.

She was enduring well, her babydoll face streaked with tears and her lip was dotted with blood where she’d bitten down too hard. Her nipples were engorged dark with blood and pinched into hard points which made me clench to look at them. I couldn’t drag my eyes from her anguished face, but I heard the splat of water hitting the floor. I pressed the Doxy harder to its target, she couldn’t escape, and her hips began lewdly thrusting as much as the spreader bar would allow.

“P-p-p-p-” it was on her lips to beg me, but she tried to stay strong.

My pussy throbbed in admiration at her tenacity and in recognition of her raw animal lust. I smelt her arousal while streaks of lubrication drooled down from swollen pussy lips. Mine echoed hers, but I wore leather-trimmed panties which hid that her display was unraveling me.

“P-p-pleeease, M-mistress.” She sobbed. “Neeeed to come!”

“Count to three, Anita” I commanded. She wanted this control as much as she yearned for release.

“One,” I admired her streaked make-up. “Two,” Her outstretched arms strained. “Three,” Her juices pooled on the floor between her feet.

“Come” I urged her.

And she came in a glorious burst of emotion, with thrusting hips, clenching pussy and breasts that jiggled. Ejaculate splashed down her legs and water sloshed from the bottles which wobbled precariously in her hands. I set them aside then held Anita round the waist as she throbbed and bucked, the aftershocks of her climax whiplashing through her grateful body.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she mumbled, her face buried in my hair as she leaned on me with legs weak like a foal.

“Well done, Anita,” I crooned, smoothing her hair and stroking her back.

I knew full well what it meant to be on the receiving end of so much sensation and deprivation, and the aftercare and space to come down were as important as the play.

If you enjoyed this and would like to read more stories on Medium, why not consider taking out a subscription using my link or subscribe to my e-mails to get notification whenever I publish something new.

More erotic fiction from Posy:

Submitted for #WickedWednesday — Prompt ‘Creative’