The ball-gag fills my mouth. I am bent over Master C’s “workbench”, my ankles fastened to the legs, my hands tied behind my back, the hard surface of the bench forcing the clamps on my nipples to press into my breasts, intensifying their pain. My arse is flaming red from the stokes of His belt, six deliciously stinging lashes to each buttock. Hot tears coarse down my cheeks as Master C’s cock pounds my arsehole.
He said I needed teaching a lesson, and this is it. His body slams into mine, driving His cock deep into my back passage with every powerful, surging thrust. With my hair wrapped around one hand, Master C pulls my head sharply back as He fucks me.
A stream of insults, each punctuated by a thrust oh His cock or a slap of His free hand across my burning buttocks.
It hurts. It’s meant to hurt. I want it and need it to hurt and Master C does not deprive me.
“Your arse is mine, slut! I’m taking what is mine and fucking it hard.” Somehow He manages to pull my head back even further.
Thrust after deep, powerful thrust pounds into my arse. His cock and pain from my nipple clamps are combining, bringing me to the edge.
A sharp yank of my hair brings more tears to my eyes. The thumb of His free hand presses into my cunt; my clit rubbed by the space between His thumb and forefinger.
“Do not come!” He commands. I screw my eyes shut, trying to detach myself from the combination of pain and pleasure that Master C is subjecting me to.
My arse is raw from the pounding of His cock, my buttocks feel like they are on fire, the pain in my nipples is excruciating, my scalp burns and my clit throbs. I want to cry, but no sound escapes from around the ball in my mouth. Lights flash against the insides of my eyelids.
The wonderful torture is unrelenting, I can feel myself almost slipping away. Every nerve is screaming for the release that only orgasm will provide.
“Not yet, slut! You haven’t earned it yet!”
I want to nod, but His grip on my hair prevents my head from moving. I want to say “Yes, Sir” but no words can pass around the ball in my mouth. I want to acknowledge His command in some way, to show Him I accept, but all I can do is just accept more of the blissful agony and torment.
Time loses meaning; I am on the edge of the precipice and Master C holds me there for what seems like an eternity.
My reverie is broken by a sudden sense of emptiness. His cock is gone from my back passage and is now in front of my face. I know what comes next. Hot streaks cross my face, His cum dribbles down my cheeks adding its trail to those of my tears.
“Now it’s your turn,” He says as His cum begins to dry on my skin. I hear the buzz as Master C switches on the wand. A moment’s stillness and then He presses it firmly to my clit. I endure for brief moments as its powerful vibrations return me to the precipice then cast me over the lip. My orgasm claims me and carries me away, lifting me out of myself. The tension drains from my body in one huge cataclysmic eruption.
I sense, rather than feel my restraints being undone, the gag and clamps removed, Master C lifting me and carrying me to the couch. I smile as He tenderly cleans His cum from my face; His large, strong hands so gentle as He applies and removes the cleanser from my skin. Master C props my head up with a cushion, kisses my forehead before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. I know that when He returns He will have a mug of tea for me.
As I listen absently to the sounds in the kitchen, I lie there content at having been taken and used so thoroughly.