So, having spent almost the whole of yesterday getting myself well and truly fucked senseless by “The Other Guy”, it was only right that last night I faced a reckoning for my actions.
Bent, bare arsed over Master C’s knee, I proceeded to tell Him all about my activities of the previous hours. Every now and then, my narration would be punctuated with a resounding slap of His hand against my arse as I recounted some particularly naughty transgression. My arse was already stinging by the time I finished my account, telling Master C how I had packed “The Other Guy” off to work on the late shift with a smile on his face after a final farewell blow-job.
As is always the case, I was required to assess my performance. How slutty had I been? How much pleasure had I given “The Other Guy”? How well had I attended to his needs and wants? What punishment did my wanton sluttiness deserve?
It was agreed that I deserved Master C’s belt. That was pretty much a given in these circumstances. It was also agreed that my blatant hedonism was deserving of 10 lashes.
However, as I have mentioned before, Master C is a fair Master and He decided that the level of pleasure I had given “The Other Guy” over the best part of a whole day, especially the selflessness of the final blow-job deserved leniency. My punishment then was to be 8 lashes; 4 to each cheek.
My arse was already hot from where His hand had slapped it as I took position. I waited for the first kiss of His belt.
SLAP! “Count them!”
And so it continued, with me sobbing out each number as the leather bit into my skin; my eyes hot with tears.
The final lash landed. I was sobbing through the pain as I stammered out “ei…eight.”
Master C gripped my hips; His fingers pressed into my tortured skin as He pushed His wonderful cock inside me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head roughly back as He fucked me, hard, powerfully, without mercy.
In and out, again and again, over and over; Master C‘s cock drove deep into my cunt. He tugged on my hair, slapped my arse, called me His “filthy little slut” as his cock abused me.
And then He was gone. I felt a sudden emptiness where He had been as He spun me around. I watched, transfixed, frozen to the spot as Master C stroked His lovely cock in front of me.
One stroke, two, then a third, and then He erupted; showering His cum over my neck and boobs before forcing His cock between my lips to suck away the final traces.
“Play with yourself, slut, I permit you to come now,” He ordered.
I closed my eyes, rubbed His cum into my skin with one hand while I fingered my cunt with the other.
“Come for me, little one,” He said softly, encouragingly, “come for your Master.”
I didn’t take me long; Master C‘s soft words of encouragement helped me along as my clit throbbed beneath my fingers.
“I’m coming, Sir!” I sobbed. “Your little slut is coming for you.”
As the sensations claimed me, Master C kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Good girl,” He said, “You are my very good little girl.”
I think I pleased Him…