Friday, June 1, 2012


~Chapter 58~

All is right with the world. To wake up after a sound night’s sleep in my own bed and roll over to the delightful vision of my naked, tethered, needy submissive…oh it’s good to be the king!

My cock has the nerve to harden again in the shower, not ten minutes after one of the most drawn out blow jobs in the history of morning wood. I rub my slick palm along my shaft, giving my dick the penile equivalent of a high five for holding out so long. Of course, when your sub’s wrists are cuffed together behind her back and the only body part at one’s disposal is her mouth, it’s a lot easier to hold off, so my cock doesn’t get all the credit. Sure, I could’ve taken her head more forcefully in my hands, but I’m in no rush today. We’ve got a solid six hours to play, and I’m going to take my sweet, old time.

As I reach for the shampoo, I glance through the glass door at my girl. Her eyes are bleary from lack of sleep and dark, puffy circles mar her perfect face. There’s a ribbon of my cum running from her chin, down between her nipple clamps. With her arms bound behind her up past her elbows, the trail down her chest is CSI-blacklight clear. I let her swallow most of my cum, but the rest serves a greater purpose.

Today is dirty, dirty princess day. The less constrained she feels by day-to-day behavioral norms, the easier it will be for her to ward off the taboo she’s sure to be fighting later.  And nothing says dirty quite like a hardened stream of spunk. Her eyes are focused right where they should be, and she takes in my latest erection with stoic acceptance.

Poor baby. Last night wasn’t exactly the cuddle fest of her Montauk overnight in my collar, and maybe it’s my fault for spoiling her then that she’s feeling especially low right now. But I need to acclimate her to overnight servitude, if this is going to be our pattern. Every minute is certainly not a picnic…for the sub. But I have a strong sense that when our day is complete, Isabella will be eager for her next night in bondage.

Stepping out onto the soft mat, I twist the towel around my waist. It’s a drag I had to bind her this way because now she can’t crawl, but the posture thing is really starting to get out of hand. An ounce of prevention will save her ass, not to mention my crop-swinging arm, a pound of cure. I have bigger fish to fry than punishing her for lazy shoulders all day, and her ass won’t need any bonus challenges today.

I go about my morning grooming routine, pulling on my cargo pants for what I know is coming later. Normally I wouldn’t bother with socks and shoes, but the more I’m wearing, the more naked she’ll feel. So I take the time to pull on my Docs, and even pull a button down around my tee shirt. Oh the things I’ll do for my sub. Fully dressed, I return to where I’ve left her in the bathroom. I think she was too stunned to ask me to go to the bathroom before, but she has to be full to bursting after my shower.

Stepping to her side, I flip her hair up off her neck and fasten it with a clip. The better to see you with, my dear.

Tipping my head, I ask her, “Ready for breakfast?”

“May I please use the toilet first, Master?”

“Sure. Here, let me help you up.” Trust me, it’s not easy to stand up when your arms are bound behind you and there’s a two-foot spreader bar between your ankles.

“Thank you, Master,” she answers, shuffling awkwardly to the toilet.

I take my place in the doorway as she sits, but a troubled look comes over her. “Master, I…would it be okay…” She turns bright red. I wait. “Would it be possible for me to have some privacy this morning?”

Poor thing.  I understand right away that she’s not disrespecting me, but attempting to signal that this need is more than the previous ones. I’m confident she wouldn’t risk asking just to pee in private.

“Well, seeing as your arms are bound and I don’t think you can get into too much mischief, sure.” 

I lean across her back and release the wrist cuffs and unroll the lower half of her bindings, placing some toilet paper in her hands. That should be sufficient. We’re in perfect agreement on scat play, but I also don’t want to break the flow.

“Just call me when you’re done.”

“Thank you, Master,” she says most gratefully. I squeeze her shoulder on my way out.

“Here we go…Sean’s specialty,” Master says cheerfully, spooning cereal with banana chunks into my face. “Speaking of Sean, I wonder how his evening went,” he chuckles. “Probably about how your day is going to go. But hey, at least you signed on for this treatment.”

Hard to imagine, as I sit on the floor, naked, clamped and spread. And dirty. I hate being dirty. I have a constant reservoir of moisture between my legs and Master’s dried ejaculate running down my front and here he sits all squeaky clean and smelling fresh and well-rested and fully clothed and so goddamn cheerful.


“No, thank you, Master. I’ve had enough.”

“C’mon in the kitchen with me, princess,” Master says, helping me from the floor. “Let’s make you presentable, shall we?”

Master soaks a towel in some warm water at the sink and wipes off the milk moustache he created on my face, but leaves the stripe he painted earlier down my front. Standing in front of me, Master delivers a lecture on good posture as he releases the nipple clamps one at a time. I do my best to remain upright, but it’s a challenge. Master waits patiently while I ride out the rush of pain accompanying the blood flow returning to my nipples, then steps behind me.

Uncoiling the ropes, Master cautions me that without the bindings, it’s up to me to remember to hold my shoulders back and my head high; he’ll be watching carefully. Awesome.  “I don’t want to have to leave you in these bindings all day, princess. In fact, I’d like you to be able to work on your story this morning.”

“Thank you, Master.” I think. We both know the by-product of my writing. It’s more potent for me than hours in front of even the kinkiest fetish site.

Freeing my arms and massaging out the kinks, Master commands, “Okay, go get your laptop.”

He hasn’t actually touched me today except to apply and remove the nipple clamps and bind and unwrap the ropes from my arms, so even the minimal handling draws a response from my attention-starved body. I kind of walk-drag-shuffle the spreader bar between my feet and manage somehow to get to my room and retrieve my computer. Minutes later, I’m seated at the head of the dining table with orders to start my next chapter of HEA. Master sprawls lazily on the couch and clicks on the next playoff game. His team’s not even in the running, but somehow every game means something anyhow. I have a lot to learn about football.

In the meantime, I sit up tall, log in, and ignore my alerts and reviews. Master said to write, and that’s what I intend to do. I search back to my middle-of-the-night thrashing and allow the imagery to return in full color.

This time, I do take the time to fill in the details of the princess’s transgression. Hmmm, let’s see. Did she not bring him off quickly enough with just her mouth? Was her posture less than perfect? Was she caught touching herself in the night? Yes, that’ll be the one.

Vivid pictures string together before me and I tap out a rough plot line.

After her first endless day of initiation in the dungeon, the Dark Prince bolted the princess’s new collar to the floor but left her hands free. She didn’t mean to…she knew it was against the rules…she wasn’t even awake at the time. But he was, and he saw everything through the two-way mirror. Saw her thighs rub together, her thrashing and moaning, and finally, saw that finger enter her folds and press and slide. He burst into the room, startling her awake, demanded an explanation for her behavior, which of course, she could not reasonably produce. He carried her to the X-cross, attached her spread-eagled with her back to the wall, and brought out the wand vibrator.

The same one that kept Brandi on edge last night, and the same one that brought me such sweet relief soon afterwards.

I’m so engrossed in my writing, I don’t notice that Master has been watching me from across the table. I hasten to check my posture, but I’m still in good form. He pulls out a chair for himself at the foot of the table and slides into place, folding his arms on the table in front of him.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Good, Master.”

“How’s your princess doing today?”

I can’t resist a smirk. “She’s in big trouble right now, actually.”

“How did she end up in trouble already? She just got to the castle in the last chapter!”

“Right, well it wasn’t really entirely her fault. She was asleep at the time.”

“Oh no! She didn’t,” I gasp, shaking my head.

“Yep, she did, Master.” She’s quite proud of herself right now.

“What’s the Dark Prince going to do to her?” I am stiffening in my pants, and this one will definitely need to be relieved.

“He’s just fastened her to the X-cross and brought out his gigantic electric vibrator.”

“Hmmm. Somehow that just doesn’t sound like much of a punishment to me.”

Isabella’s eyes drop to her keyboard while she gathers herself. When she looks up at me again, her eyes are serious and her smile is gone. “At first, no. He’s going straight in and holding it there and she’s gonna shake and scream and come like gangbusters.”

“And then…?”

“And then he’s gonna keep it there and she’ll scream and beg for him to take it away. And he’s gonna tell her that this is what happens to dirty girls who can’t keep their fingers out of their pussies.”

“Hmmm, this is starting to sound like a pretty good punishment after all.” My cock certainly thinks so, and I’m guessing Isabella is nice and damp between her legs right now. “So how does it all end?”

“I’m not sure yet. He’d wanted to stretch her out along the rack the second day and tease her, but I’m not sure that would work after she was so spent.”

I stand and move around the table to her chair. “Save your file, Isabella.” The dark edge in my voice is unmistakable.

She does as I’ve commanded and watches me closely. I flip down the lid of her laptop and take her by the hand. “Come with me.”

She shuffles awkwardly to the kitchen and I command her to her knees with one point of the finger.  I’ve already had her mouth today and it’s too early to take her below. My solution is messy, but so much the better.

Master opens the bottle of vegetable oil and pours some into his hand. He slicks his palm along his erection, which is practically the only skin he’s revealed to me. I don’t understand my role in this until he steps closer and rubs against my chest. “Hold your tits up here for me,” he instructs.

I cozy up my breasts around his slippery shaft as he leans forward and balances with his hands on my shoulders. Without a word, Master slides in and out of the fleshy tunnel, and I hold myself tight around him. This time is much quicker than the blowjob I gave him earlier. With the inspiration provided by my writing and our subsequent discussion of the dungeon scene, I was already painfully aroused before this began. Add to that the sloshing noise and Master’s soft grunts, and I’m right back riding that sharp edge again. Master picks up speed and intensity and I have to fight not to fall over backwards.

Just before he comes, Master reaches to my breasts and squeezes them hard against his shaft. He tightens and stills and with one loud, low groan, he releases in three steady streams that catch my chin, my cheek, my neck, my hair, and my chest.

Master pulls back and smiles. “Your writing never fails to inspire me, princess.” I feel a surge of pride that almost rivals my neediness. He grabs the towel from the counter, cleans himself off and tucks back inside his pants. Pulling me to my feet, Master unfastens the spreader bar from my ankle cuffs.

“I can’t very well have you crawling with that thing between your legs. Down you go.” He adds the hand signal, and I drop to all fours. Oh god, what’s next? I’m not comforted in the least when I hear him add, “Your turn.”

Master leads me to the coffee table, then starts emptying his pockets. The first thing he pulls out is the rimmer from last night. Next to that, he places a cone-shaped object that is slightly bigger. Okay, I’m not freaking out yet. With a watchful glance toward me, he pulls out another, and yet another. The last one makes my eyes widen in fear, and Master catches my expression before I can temper it.

He drops the tube of lube on the table and crouches down in front of me. “Okay, here’s the deal.” He points to the tiniest toy. “This is where we are.” His finger slides ominously down the line to number four. “And this…is me.”

I swallow over the boulders in my throat.

“I’m not showing you all this to scare you.  I just want you to know how this works. You okay?”

I take a deep breath, blow it out, and nod again. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. I’m not planning on all this happening today, by the way,” Master adds with a touch of a wry grin.

“We’re going to use the stoplight system so I can gauge how you’re feeling. Green is an enthusiastic  ‘go,’  yellow is ‘slow down,’ and red is your safe word. Everything comes to an immediate halt. Can you tell me where you are right now, Isabella?”

“Green, Master.”

“Thank you. I have one more thing I want to show you.”

Oh god, there’s more? My heart is in my throat as he reaches into those cargoes one more time and pulls out something that looks like an arthritic silicone finger. It’s thin but knobby and has some kind of attachment that has to be a vibrator control. I close my eyes to steady myself.

When I gather the courage to look again, I notice that this toy is graduated, starting out just a little broader than the rimmer he’s already used on me. But it gets wider and wider toward the bottom, and it’s at least eight inches long, and the further he pushes…

“Isabella.” Master’s firm voice snaps me right back to the present. “We’re going to work with this today, and see how you do.”

I resolve to do well. I want to see that pride in Master’s eyes again. I ready myself for his first command.

He snaps his finger for me to move to the center of the room. There’s a shift. His eyes look darker this time as he kneels in front of me. “You are a messy girl today, aren’t you, wearing your Master’s cum all over you?”

 “Yes, Master.”

“Mmm, I like you like this—raw and ripe. God, you smell like sex!”

I’m sinking.

 “I’m not nearly done with you yet. I am going to make you even messier. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Raw and ripe. So dirty for him. Sinking, sinking…“Yes, Master.” And without prompting, I add, “Make me messier… please.” My vulgar request brings a sudden rush of moisture between my legs.

A sinister grin settles over his features. “That’s my dirty girl. Are you wet for me, princess?” He runs his fingertip between my legs to check for himself.

I am sodden. It’s been hours he’s kept me on edge, used me and ignored me. “Yes, Master.”

“Would you like me to touch you again, princess?”

I think I’ll die if he doesn’t.

“Yes, Master,” she practically growls.

“Good. Put your cheek to the floor and rest on your elbows.” I help her get into position, pressing her shoulders to the floor and sliding my hand down her back until it rests at the base of her spine. I squeeze out a couple drops of lube and she startles at the clammy surprise. I tease at her pussy ever so lightly with one hand while preparing to enter her with the finger rimmer again.

“Come and get it, princess,” I say, causing her to push back and open for me. “That’s a good girl. You know you want it, dirty girl. Ask me for it.”

“Please Master. Put that thing in my ass,” she hisses.

She rocks and twists. I continue with a stream of increasingly filthy words as I work her into a frenzy. I switch out the rimmer for the anal vibrator, making sure to ease in just the very tip.

“What color, princess?”

“Greeeeen,” she moans, reaching for contact with my hand. As the first bulge makes contact with her muscular ring, I stroke her wet folds below.

“Do you want this or not?”

“I do.”

“Let me hear you beg for more.”

“Please please pleeeease, Master.”

I add another finger on her pussy lips and rub a little faster at the same time I push past the resistance. She lets out a yelp. She’s clenched and locked up around the toy, and if she doesn’t ease up I’ll have to pull back. I switch the vibe to the lowest setting, and Isabella registers surprise, but the sensation doesn’t seem to be relaxing her. I set down the controller so I can coax her open with my hand around her entrance.

She’s still clenching too tightly.

“What color, Isabella?”

“Green!” she guts out, but it’s unconvincing.

Fuck. I can’t let this get away from me. I twist the slider and remind her to breathe, but it’s no use and I have to retract it.

With my free hands, I skim over her lower back and her bottom with one hand and play at her pussy with the other; keeping her keyed up is essential. I lube up the toy once more and squirt a new line into her crack.

“Ask for it, princess.”

Still with me?

“Please, Master. Put the toy back in.”

“Here it comes, naughty girl. Deep breath.”

She breathes and relaxes, but only until the tip meets her opening. I make another effort to press the first bulge inside, but her body rejects the plug. Though she’s clearly uncomfortable, she presses into my hand.

Through clenched teeth, she forces out, “Please, Master. I can do it. Please.” I twist the tip, trying to coax it inside, but it’s not happening, and poor Isabella is writhing and twisting and trying to get more contact. I quickly switch back to the finger rimmer, which slides in almost without notice. I reward her efforts by placing my entire hand along her slit.

“Come for me now, girl. Let me see those ‘gangbusters’ you wrote about.”

Finally receiving the exact attention she’s been craving for hours, Isabella pushes against my fingers and bounces and comes almost instantly with a low keening wail.

Panting and spent, her voice is muffled by the floor as she asks, “Master, how did I do?”

Her voice is so hopeful, I hate to break the news. “You did well. You did everything I asked you to do.”

She finds my eyes, and I can see she knows I haven’t been entirely truthful. “Master…please?”

“Sometimes the body can be a little stubborn. We’ll get there.”

Silence. Then, “May I try again, please?”

I breathe out a heavy sigh. It’s bad form to consider such a request, no matter the purity of motivation behind it. Sensing my hesitation, she continues.

“Master, I know it’s not my place to say,” comes her weary voice from the rug, “but I would so like to please you and I know I can do better this time.”

“I appreciate your eagerness, princess, and you’ve pleased me plenty. But no, it is not your place to write this scene and we’re done for now. Up you go.”

I help her up and send her off to make lunch. I hate the look of failure on her face.

It’s been a long afternoon and I’m dirty and Master has kept me on edge for a solid hour stretched over the coffee table medieval-rack style, the evil bastard. I must remember to start writing scenes I actually want to endure. Okay, I’m kidding no one. The feather is heaven, and that way he looks at me while he’s wielding it…I’d melt right here but then I’d escape my bonds and the fun would be over.

“I wonder if your princess fills the Dark Prince’s dungeon with such a pungent smell of musk,” he says as he draws nearer, crouching between my spread legs. He fluffs the feather over my pussy and reaches out his tongue to lick me. My needy grunt almost scares me it sounds so inhuman. Master closes in and places his whole mouth over my wet opening. The moist warmth nearly sends me right over the edge, but he’s careful. He’s not going to accidentally bring me off, not when he’s having so much fun keeping me like this.

“You have been a very good girl today, Isabella,” he says, lifting his face to talk to me.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Our time is almost up, and I’ve decided to give you one more chance.”

“Yes, Master, please.” I brighten. All is not lost. I can totally do this. He’s kicking off his boots, taking off his pants, getting rid of the boxers, the button-down, and the tee shirt. His cock is proud and ready, and Master palms himself while he watches me watching him. He bends to release my bindings, grabs what he needs from under the table, and folds me forward over the arm of the couch.

Seconds later, he’s buried inside me and we’re rocking together. His firm hands guide my hips, there’s a satisfying thwack each time his pelvis smashes into my ass. It feels so good. He hasn’t touched me for so long with anything but the damn wisps of that feather. The familiar, dreaded gel meets my crack, and my muscles clench involuntarily when his finger presses at my opening.

“Concentrate…on my cock,” Master advises, in rhythm with his pounding. “Just let this happen.”

I feel the sting. My body resists, but I push through it and force myself open. “What color, Isabella?”

“Green,” I bite out.

There’s a shifting, then a new pressure. Resistance. Relaxation. Clenching. Release. Tension. Pain. Pressure. Pleasure? Pounding, pounding, pounding, emptiness.

Another transition, more gel, something inside me…there. Still pounding. Pain. Resistance. Vibrations. Pain. Resistance.

Try harder, Bella.

Pressure, sensation, pounding, pain. Try, try, try.

“Where are we, Isabella?” Master’s voice sounds tight, worried.

I can do this.


Pounding. Pain. Vibrations. Release. Pain. Pulling out. Pressure. Twisting. Cold. Pain.


Master’s not inside me anymore. There’s nothing to hold onto. Just the sting and the pain. My eyes tear up but I won’t stop now. I’m doing this thing. I’m doing it for him so I can be everything he wants.

“RED! Fuck, RED!” Master growls out our safe word.

And suddenly, just emptiness. Failure. Strong arms close around my midsection and pull me up, back into his warm chest. He rocks me, side to side, murmuring into my neck. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

I know my legs couldn’t hold me right now; I’m a rag doll. A snotty, grubby, used rag doll.

I unclasp her collar and though the scene effectively ended with my safe word, I say it anyway, just to be sure she understands. “I love you, Isabella.”

“I love you too, Edward,” comes her rote response. Shit.

I slide one arm behind her knees and the other cradles her neck as I lift her into my arms. Isabella goes completely limp and tucks her head against my chest.

“I’ve got you, baby.” I make a beeline for the bathroom with the singular thought of getting Isabella under a stream of hot water.

For the first time, I regret not having a tub. Fuck it, if she can’t stand up in the shower, I’ll hold her in my lap on the floor and so be it.

I somehow manage the door and the spigot and take the water on my back until it warms. I turn her slowly into the flow and she sputters a bit at the intrusion. I can’t do more than just hold her as the warm water works its way around and between us.

“This always looks easier in the movies. I’m gonna need to put you down so I can take care of you.”

She smiles wanly and obliges by setting her feet on the floor and not falling over. I grab the soap and work up two handfuls of hasty suds. Starting with her feet and working my way up, I rub gentle circles along her skin, lather up again, and continue that way until my hands are at her shoulders. She rocks into my motion and I step forward to support her with my body. Isabella hums and drops her head forward while she melts against my body.

“Bend over, sweetheart. I need to get you clean.” She folds obediently at the waist and I gingerly clean away the residual fluids and hopefully some of the pain. I marvel that she’s still standing while I work the shampoo along her scalp and massage her with my fingertips. After finishing Isabella, I quickly soap up my own body.

I wrap the soft towel around her shoulders and use a second one to dry off her body while she stands passively on the bath mat.

“Feel better?” I ask her.

“Mmm, feels so good to be clean.” She’s dead on her feet, eyes drooping closed.

“Come on, sweetheart, there’s a pillow with your name on it.” She lets me drag her by the hand over to the bed. I relieve her of the towels and pull back the covers. She climbs inside with a low hum of relief.

Banner by Cara No

I lean over to tuck her in, watching with amusement as she burrows into the mattress. Nuzzling my lips into the warm fresh skin of her neck, I repeat, “I love you, Isabella.” This time, she hears me. Really hears me.

Her eyes blink open and she smiles for me. “I know. I love you, too.”

My fingers play at the edge of her hair line. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”

“Don’t let me sleep past five please?”

“Sure.” I leave her with a soft kiss on her lips.


  1. Wait... WHAT? I'm confused. Why did HE safe word?? What was he doing? What... ?? ummm... *goes back up to read*

    1. She was taking on more than she was comfortable taking. Not good!

  2. I think he safe-worded because he saw that she was pushing past her pain to try very hard to do what he wanted her to. I think the intent here was for her to trust him to not go beyond her limits even if she WAS going past her limits to please him. I think him calling RED was taking the care of her that she wasn't taking of herself in her desire to do what he wanted....that make sense?