“Good morning, princess.” How can I not wake with a smile when the first sight I see is my sweet submissive rolled onto her side, waiting for me to give her the first command of the day?
“Good morning, Master. Did you sleep well?”
“I sure did. What time is it? 9:25? No wonder I’m so hungry!”
She giggles, and I shoo her out of bed. Poor kid, must’ve been up for hours already staring at my lazy ass.
“I’d like apple pancakes with a side order of crisp bacon, a tall glass of milk, and a steaming mug of coffee.”
“I’ll come out to the dining room after I shower. Make enough for both of us; you can set a placemat for yourself on the floor by my chair. And put on your apron,” I add. May as well get started right away.
“Thank you, Master.”
I shower quickly, ignoring the thwack of my morning wood against my abdomen. I don’t have any to spare today. My princess is going to be busy, and the thought makes me impossibly harder. “Fine…here,” I acquiesce to my stubborn cock, giving him a couple of soapy tugs. “See? That didn’t help at all,” I growl at myself, turning the shower to lukewarm and then cool so I have a fighting chance of controlling myself over breakfast.
Fuck me, that was a waste, I realize, taking in the tantalizing rear view of my mostly bare breakfast servant working over a hot pan at the cook top. Two tails of white ribbon trail randomly from the bowtie at her waist and over the twin mounds of her flesh, making me thankful I chose to put on boxers under my black cargo pants today—any more friction with a zipper today and I’m sure it would be permanently imprinted on my dick.
Almost equally enticing is the apply goodness wafting through the apartment and hitting me like a sledge hammer. I cross the room as quickly as I’m able, short of skipping.
“That smells amazing, princess.”
“Oh, you’re ready. I’ll just be a second, Master,” she calls over her shoulder. I see that she has my place set already, and I pull down a second plate and mug from the cupboard and set them down next to the ones on the counter.
“Help yourself to coffee if you want. You can have your own plate today. I don’t think you like as much syrup as I do.”
She turns around and grins at me. “I don’t think anyone likes as much syrup as you do, Master.”
I smile to let her know I’m okay with her gentle teasing.
“This is all set,” she says, twisting with the pan in hand to scoop a pile of pancakes on my plate and one onto hers. She divvies up the bacon in similar proportions.
I pat my belly appreciatively and allow my eyes to linger on the skimpy eyelet doily partially covering her goods. “I honestly don’t know what to eat first, princess,” I confess.
“If I may, Master, the food is only going to be hot for a few minutes. I, on the other hand…”
“Good point,” I agree, sweeping the plates off the counter. “Grab the drinks.”
I set her plate in the center of her placemat and she kneels behind it. “Bon appétit! Feel free to use your hands.”
Predictably, I moan and hum and continue to cherish every last bite of food well after she’s stopped eating. I leave her to the dishes while I hurry back to my room to wash my hands and load my pockets for the day. I am fully dressed in anonymous-dom, photographically-neutral black right down to my super-intimidating Doc’s, and the last piece of equipment I take is my camera, unplugging it from the charger and clipping it securely to the thick blue nylon strap around my neck. I enter the kitchen and begin snapping photos without warning. She looks up from the sudsy collection in the sink, gasps, and turns a bright shade of pink.
Today will be more challenging, and she’s about to find that out right now. “Keep cleaning,” I direct her, moving around behind the counter so I can get some full body shots. I take the opportunity to capture her “at work”—the strenuous scrubbing of the pan allowing for a delicious jiggle of her breasts behind the thin straps of the halter top. She picks up her pace, apparently even more embarrassed to be captured this way on virtual film.
Truth be told, I’m lusting madly for the hot maid, and it takes enormous willpower to send her off to get our laundry and a pair of her highest heels instead of taking her from behind at the sink. It’s so worth it, though, when I’m able to order her around at the washing machine, having her bend and dip in those heels. I take a seat on the couch and “supervise” as she vacuums and dusts, shouting out helpful cleaning hints such as, “Keep your legs open,” and, “Stand on your tiptoes.” She goes cheerfully from one task to the next, ever eager to serve, and I record it all with my trusty Nikon.
“Oh, honey, you have me good and worked up. Come on over here and take care of Master’s aching cock.”
I scoot to the edge of the seat cushion, and she stands between my open legs. I order her to her knees and lift the camera to my eye. “Use your hands on me.”
I groan when she reaches into my pants and rubs me through my boxers. “Take it out, princess. I can’t wait.”
“Yes, Master,” she complies, releasing me from the layers of clothing and sliding my shirt out of the way. I take a few pictures of her hands moving over my shaft, and then I shift to the view from above of slutty maid on her knees, but eventually, I just want to enjoy the sensations and I tip my head back along the couch and drop my hands to my sides and give in to the overwhelming pleasure. Just as the tension has mounted to that tipping point and I can feel the beginnings of my orgasm rumbling through my balls, I feel her warm lips close around my tip. Surprised, but too far gone to ponder why she’s improvised, I explode into her mouth.
She pulls off me and sits back on her heels, regarding me warily. “I’m sorry, Master. I was afraid your camera would get ruined.”
I look down at my chest and notice the equipment dangling well within my striking range. I reach my hand to her head and rake my fingers down through her hair.
Tipping her chin up, I smile down at her. “That was risky behavior, princess.”
“I know, but I figured whatever punishment I might get would be less awful than your camera getting ruined.”
“My sweet, sweet subbie,” I praise her. “I certainly appreciate your sacrifice.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, her eyes widening noticeably as she takes in my final word.
While my morning of domestic service left me physically exhausted, Master puts me through an entirely different type of rigor right after serving him lunch.
“You won’t be needing this anymore,” Master says, flicking open the apron strings at my neck and waist. The fabric slides from my body, taking with it any possible last shreds of modesty. “Just so there’s no further confusion, you are hereby thoroughly relieved of any thought processes as well.”
Master gathers my hair in one hand and unclips my collar with the other, while continuing to transition me into the new scene. I hear his subtle chastisement, and I greedily drink in every word of guidance he bestows. “Animal instinct is not always your friend when you’re serving your Master, Isabella. That’s the purpose of the training—to rewire your brain to respond to me, my wishes, my demands, my instincts. That’s going to be relatively easy for you ninety percent of the time…hold this please.”
I take charge of the hair he’s bundled on top of my head while he reaches into a pocket and pulls out the red leather dog collar. Slipping it behind my neck and fastening the buckle snugly, he continues, “It’s that other ten percent that is going to get you into trouble.” Master’s eyes flick to mine and I feel the uncertain thrill of his promise. “Drop your hair, girl.”
He regards me thoughtfully. “Hmm, I’d like to see this a bit wilder…” Master works his hands through my hair, scrubbing and swirling and teasing out the long, loose strands from the roots. “Much better. Now you’re my shaggy dog. Down on all fours and no more talking, pet.”
Master crouches in front of me and hooks the leash into my collar, holding the metal clip thoughtfully in his hands. “I should really get you a tag for this, so everyone knows who your owner is.” Master works the metal links through his hands, and when he comes to the leather handle, he ties it through one of his belt loops. Adding the hand signal to the vocalization, he commands, “Stay.”
We both know he didn’t need to say that; I wasn’t going anywhere without being directed. The fact that he issued the command lends extra weight to it. He means, “Stay there, don’t move a muscle, and don’t even think about what comes next.” Master rises to his feet and backs away slowly, taking up the slack in the leash until it is taut between us. He lifts the camera to his face and starts snapping pictures, spending several long minutes capturing just my face and neck. “Beautiful…you look perfect, pet…you know what? You should see this. Come.” I move immediately to his side, and he rewards me with, “Good girl, now heel.”
Suddenly, he turns and begins walking us toward the spare room. As soon as I round the corner, he pulls us to a halt right in front of the mirror. Though I know intellectually I’m collared and leashed, the sight of my reflection is still quite startling; it’s one thing to know it and quite another to see it. Master steps over my back, straddling me between his legs and winding the leash around and around his hand until his hand is right next to my face, offering me no escape from the truth—I have become his mute, domesticated beast.
“Look at yourself, princess. Look at those wild, expressive eyes of yours. I hope you see what I see…Master’s best friend, a humble, devoted creature providing unwavering obedience and unconditional love. It’s…you’re…” Master’s voice catches, drawing my eyes up to his reflection. “Damn. You’re perfect.”
Stepping off my back, Master comes around and appears in front of me, the camera poised again. “Look at me, princess. Show me those puppy dog eyes. Just like that…” He travels around my body until I see his reflection behind me, pointing the camera between my legs. “Spread open for me, girl. Arch your back, oh fuck, yeah. Wag your tail for me, come on, show Master how excited you are to see me!” Click, click, click.
I’m swimming in desire, and if I know my Master, he has captured every dew drop between my legs with his telephoto lens.
“Isabella!” Master’s sharp voice draws my full attention back to the mirror, just in time to see him lift his heavy boot right onto the middle of my back. The feel of it is heavy and cold and sharp, but more than all of that is the very idea of his overwhelming dominant gesture. “Down! Keep your tail in the air and put your nose to the floor.”
He presses with his boot, forcing me into the position he’s just commanded. Click, click.
“Now put your chin on your front paws and look at yourself in the mirror.”
I catch sight of the imagery—his heavy boot on my back holding me down, the leash wrapped tightly around his hand and offering no slack, my submission complete. Or so I think, until the next command.
“Roll over.” He steps off and grants me some room to roll onto my back.
“Hands and feet in the air, wide open!” He stands over me again and takes several pictures of me from every conceivable angle. Master is kneeling at my side, finally letting the camera slip from his face and catch on the strap around his neck. “If you want a belly rub, let me hear you whimper for it.”
I turn my glassy eyes to Master’s and catch his dark expression. He’s leaving it to me, not forcing me but rather offering the trade: he’ll reward me if I can dig deeper. Master hasn’t touched anything below my neck yet today and I crave his beautiful hands on me. I don’t know exactly what a ‘belly rub’ entails, but I know that getting one is infinitely better than not.
He waits patiently while I move to that place. Opening my mouth, I let my tongue slip out and imagine myself having just run for a Frisbee, the exertion and the exhilaration of catching it for my Master and running back to his hand for that proud ruffle of fur. I’m panting softly, and I see Master’s eyes light up. “That’s it, girl,” he whispers encouragingly. “Come on; you can do it.”
My breathing picks up, and I can almost feel myself in a dead run to Master’s side now, the wind ruffling my fur as I rush to his side. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes!”
The noise alarms me at first, for its very inhumanity. It’s a soft squeak, coming from a place inside me that I don’t recognize. A ball of raw need, so forceful in its sheer honesty it is completely overpowering to me. If not for Master’s hand sliding to my stomach and grounding me, I’m sure I would feel lost and swallowed up inside of it.
“Let me hear you,” Master cheers me on. “Beg for it!”
His palm slides to my sopping need and I hear my voice reach out to him. Words could never convey my desperation as clearly. Master covers me with his outstretched fingers and stimulates my jangled nerve endings and I cry out with my raw lust and need and desire. His other hand rolls over my chest and blankets my body in warmth and comfort. He rises to his knees and works over me like a musician pulling a complicated melody from his instrument. I’m begging now and whimpering and I’m so far gone I never noticed that he took one hand off me until I hear the click of the camera.
“Whimper for me, princess. Look into the lens and beg.”
I need, I need, I need…spins in my head, producing the feral, crazed panting ringing in my ears. And his fingers keep sliding and rubbing and giving…
“Gorgeous. You’re going to come for me right now, my sweet little pet. Right here in the middle of this grassy park, where all the other dogs and Masters can see you, you are going to come loud and strong and HARD! Now, pet!”
Master presses the heel of his hand to my clit and I see stars before my eyes. I am gasping for breath and convulsing wildly along the floor and he doesn’t stop stimulating me and I hear this ungodly noise issue from my chest as I spin wildly out of control.
“Shhh shhh, shhhhhh,” Master soothes softly, his hand smoothing gentle circles around my belly. “Good girl,” he says over and over in a soothing tone. “Master is so proud of you.” My ears pick up the subtle snap of the camera lens, and I realize he’s never stopped recording me.
What I love most about the Nikon is the timer repeat function. Similar to a pitching machine, you can set it to continue “firing shots” in whatever interval you choose. Perfect for the Master who needs hands-free photography to capture a spanking session.
“Just continue following my commands. As soon as I press start, the camera will take a sequence of eighty pictures over a span of twenty minutes. Ready?”
I press the button on the camera and slide onto the chair I’ve set up in the middle of the room. Isabella kneels at my feet, hands clasped loosely behind her back, wearing her regular collar again, plus her spiky silver heels and the see-through panties that create such a lovely visual when she’s wet, as she’s sure to be very shortly.
“Eyes on my face, princess.” I cup her chin and hold her in place. “Before we start, I want you to tell me why you’re about to be spanked.”
“Because I disregarded your instructions and thought for myself this morning in scene.”
“And you did so willfully, am I right, princess?”
“Yes, Master. I made a choice.”
“You’re about to find out how that’s going to work out for you, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Master,” she answers, blushing deeply. I wait until I hear the click of the shutter before moving on.
I stand, causing her to crane her neck upwards, and I let my hand slide into the same position as the picture she admired last night. “Are you eager for your spanking, princess?”
“Yes, Master,” she answers.
“Are you ready for me to bunch up those panties and tug them through your crack?”
I stretch her neck just a little more, and she reaches higher, yearning. “Have you made your panties see-through with pussy juice for me?”
She’s slipping again; it’s getting easier each time to bring her to this place.
“Mmm. All wet and stuck to your pussy? How tempting…”
I shake my head with regret. “Pity I have a spanking to attend to for my naughty little subbie.”
“Yes, Master,” she answers wistfully.
I release her throat. “Kiss your Master’s boots, girl.”
Her eyes take a slight swoon back into her skull as she drops her face to my right foot. I need to keep her here for about ten more seconds. “Set your cheek down on my boot and close your eyes, princess.”
“Up onto your feet.”
She stands in front of my knees and I open my legs and gesture her to come forward. Her beautiful legs look a mile long in the shoes, and her belly is just at the perfect height to tease her with soft kisses. “Oh, princess, you were not lying about that wet pussy of yours,” I say, feeling the twitch inside my boxers that I know will soon be painful. “You must be thinking back to that belly rub you just had.”
I slip my fingertip just inside the elastic and pull up the material so it’s taut and her lips are beautifully displayed for the camera. “Face the camera, Isabella.” She makes the quarter-turn and I gather the fabric to highlight the spot. “I bet you’d like to stick your fingers inside there and fiddle with yourself, wouldn’t you, princess?”
I jiggle the fabric side to side, letting my knuckles brush her bare skin. “So much, Master.”
“That’s a shame, princess, because this is not that kind of spanking. This is the kind where your bottom gets nice and warm and pink and I get you all hot and bothered, but you don’t get…any…relief…at all.”
“Before we get to that, let’s have you turn around now and show the camera the area in question…”
I have her pose for several minutes, in various lewd positions—panties snaked between her cheeks, bent over holding her ankles, and finally, blessedly folded over my lap waiting to be struck.
And then it’s time. I start with my open hand over the thin material, alternating cheeks so she doesn’t get too weary. I remind her that she disobeyed me and make her ask for her discipline. Holding her firmly with one hand across her back, I catch her waistband with one finger and shimmy her panties halfway down her thighs. “Spread those legs now, princess. I don’t want the panties to slide out of the picture. They look way too pretty like this.”
She jumps a bit each time I catch her with my cupped palm, her wet center pressing against my thigh. I give her more of a sting than I would if this were an entirely sensual spanking, even though we both know her crime ranked very low on my list of offenses.
In between slaps, I tease her mercilessly, running my hands along the insides of her thighs and lightly brushing along the outer edges of her lips.
“Turn around now, show the camera your I-was-a-naughty-girl face. Let’s have your chin on top of your arms… that’s it.”
“I know you were a bad girl today,” spank, “but tell me…what exactly did you do that got you into trouble?” spank.
“I was supposed to be touching Master with my hand, but at the last minute I put my mouth on you.”
“You like having your Master’s cock in your mouth, don’t you, Isabella?” spank
“Very much, Master.”
“Well, I’m a big believer in making the punishment…(spank)…fit the crime.”
And my cock is a big believer in getting some goddamn relief!
The last fifteen clicks of the camera take place while Isabella is lying across my lap, giving me a much-needed blowjob. It’s tricky spanking her at the same time, and Master’s dick is none too pleased with either of us when she accidentally clamps down around me with her teeth. After that, I alternate her blows with mine and all is right again. I have to admit, the camera adds an intriguing dimension to the scene. Between that and the eager lips of my repentant submissive, it’s quite a happy climax that takes place on that chair. I finish the spank session with close-ups of both sets of Isabella’s rosy cheeks before moving us on to the next level.
“It’s time to look through book two.”
I feel what he’s doing—yesterday was the warm-up and today is the test. By now, the camera doesn’t bother me at all and I know exactly what I’m going to see when we watch this new slide show. Devotion, unflagging trust, and a whole mess of sexual tension.
Stripped of everything but my collar and tied to a dining room chair kinky kidnapper-style (knees opened wide, breasts lewdly compressed between repeated figure-eights of red rope, elbows bound together behind the chair), I am now being made to respond to each and every photo in the second book we bought yesterday.
To describe book two as raunchy would be generous. Every type of bondage, from suspension to hog-tying, is vividly depicted, along with numerous and creative violations of both organic and inorganic matter in every orifice imaginable. Some of it is too hard-core for me, and Master allows me to “pass” on those, but I’m first required to look into the eyes of each submissive and assure Master that I see that same pride of service reflected that I observed last night.
“I take it you see my point, Isabella?” he asks, closing the book and setting it aside at last.
“Yes, Master. The humiliation factor shouldn’t detract from the sub’s pride in serving her master.”
“In your case, it should actually add to it. We’ve been going there all day, Isabella. Do you trust me to take you deeper into that place, and find honor in that?”
I recognize what he’s been building up to now. He’s asking if I’m ready to live out my vow in deed, not just pay lip service to my promise. And he’s going to test me fiercely.
I want this. “Yes, Master. I do.”
He bends over my chair, placing his eyes level with mine. “Isabella, do you understand the supreme importance of using your safe word?”
He closes his eyes and kisses me hard. Before he pushes back, he pierces me with those eyes once again and says, “I know you can do this, Isabella. I need you to see that you can do this.”
I take a deep breath and nod.
Master pulls the camera strap back over his head. “Look into the camera,” he says sharply when my eyes drop to his feet. I lift my head into the eye of the lens. “You like being tied that way, don’t you, princess?”
He moves closer to my face. “Helpless…” click “vulnerable…” click “my prisoner…”
I feel the blood rush to my face, and he smiles darkly. “Your body tells the whole story. Your cheeks are bright with arousal. Your nipples…” the camera moves to my chest and the shutter opens and closes again and again. “That’s it, baby. I have another treat for you—something you love.”
The f’in’ gag. He dangles it before my eyes like someone teasing a cat with a fresh ball of yarn. “Tell me you want it.”
“Yes, please, Master.”
“I knew it.” He steps behind me and presses the squeak toy into my hand without a word. He tips my head back against his stomach and slips the ball behind my teeth. “Sink,” he coaxes me, hypnotizing me with those eyes as he fastens the strap behind my head. I remind myself to breathe slowly, and I descend deep into myself, to that place where being muzzled for my Master is not simply acceptable, it’s desirable. After a couple minutes, I’m comfortably uncomfortable.
“Say cheese,” Master taunts, taking a picture before tipping my head back to level. “Come on, princess, show me what I need to see.”
I’m doing this for my Master.
I’m doing this for myself.
Because this is what I need…this is who I am.
“Fucking perfect,” he says.
I can judge by the diminishing daylight that our time is drawing to a close. It’s been a very demanding day for me, but I feel I’ve made significant progress and Master seems very pleased, so I’m glowing and content. The ropes binding me to the chair had been taut and uncomfortable, but they served their purpose well and Master has lovingly massaged out every last sore muscle and red mark on my body. This, after he fucked me ‘good and proper’ from behind just after untying me.
“We’ll review the pictures next time,” Master promises, rubbing balm into the skin near my right wrist. “Though I’m not entirely sure I can wait until Wednesday,” he adds wistfully.
“Well Tuesday is our painting class and Monday would make it too long until the following weekend.”
Master pulls me into his lap and encircles me with his arms. “Such a smart subbie I have myself. Wednesday it will have to be, then.”
“Or…” I smile at Master’s lifted eyebrow.
“Or?” he repeats.
“Perhaps we can just enjoy them not in scene?”
“Hmmm,” he hums, dropping several kisses along my neck while he considers my suggestion, “Master will have to give that some thought. Crossovers are tricky.”
“But Master, you’re the best there is. If anyone can manage it, you can.”
Master laughs warmly at my blatant attempt to sweet talk him. “Let’s try to remember who’s boss here, shall we?”
“Oh, Master. I really don’t think that will be a problem.”
His lips close over mine and when he pulls back, his gleaming eyes dance with happiness. “No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t imagine so.”
Suddenly, Master maneuvers us so that I’m stretched along the couch and his body covers mine from head to toe. He kisses me again, long and slow and deep. “Before I take off your collar, I need to say again how brilliantly you did both last night and today. I’m so proud of you and I so appreciate your profound trust in me.”
I whisper over the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Master.”
He voodoos me with another kiss, probably so I don’t notice that he’s unclipped my collar. His nose brushes softly along the length of mine, and his eyes are earnest and adoring. “I love you, Isabella.”
“I love you too, Edward.”
A/N: Many thanks to Soapy Mayhem for the brand new banner! Look closely behind the "After"...it's quite delicious!
Thank you for the comments and private messages. I love hearing from you all, whether you're looking for more scenes, fewer scenes... more Marcus, less Marcus...end the story, neverending story...it's all good.