The Object of His Affection 2

by H Dean

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© Copyright 2010 - H Dean - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; D/s; bond; collar; conditioning; bodymod; hum; oral; anal; sex; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Part 2: Pavlov’s Dog

It was the eve of their anniversary. She had gotten "all gussied up" at his command and now awaited his arrival at her door. When, at last, he arrived, he was in suit and tie, bearing flowers and a large gift-wrapped box.

"Happy anniversary, pet", he said, smiling. "I have something special for you. I only hope you accept it."

She could not imagine what he might have that she would not accept. A quizzical look on her face, she leaned in to kiss him and retrieve her bouquet. Then, after placing the large bouquet in a vase on her coffee table, she sat on the couch beside him, reaching for the gift-wrapped box.

"Before you open your present, I want you to understand the significance of it”, he started. "If you accept the contents within, you will be expected to quit your apartment and move in with me. I want to have you day and night, for now and always."

Debbie burst into tears, falling into his arms in a strong embrace, covering his face with wet tears and emotion filled kisses.

"Of course, I'll move in", she nearly shouted.

After wiping her face she turned to the box and began unwrapping it. What she found were four black leather cuffs and a wide leather collar of the same color. There was also a pair of black stiletto heels with a locking ankle strap.

"If you accept these gifts there is significance behind them", he said, looking into her eyes. "It means that our relationship will intensify and that you can look forward to experiencing many of the things I have told you about over the years."

For a moment she didn't know quite what to say. She had longed for him to use his cuffs and collar. She had longed to be bound and used for his pleasure. However, even after being with him for the last year, she feared much of how she knew he would use her.

"Can I think about it… give you my answer later tonight?"

"Let's go", he said. "When we get back you I’ll expect that answer."

Debbie was quite relieved. This was not something she could rush into and, though she loved him and had enjoyed her submission to him, she was still fearful of it.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. They talked and laughed, remembering old times and not so old times. Often, he would mention a particularly memorable evening of recent past, bringing a blush to her skin.

“You recoil from certain of my comments,” he stated, stirring his drink. “But I know you like not being allowed to cum until I command it. I know you like when I embarrass you.”

“I do,” she acknowledge, still blushing. “I like everything, even what I don’t like. You… you make me want it. I don’t know how and it scares me. But I like it.”

By the time they returned to her apartment she was happy and excited, having already reached a decision regarding her gifts. As soon as they crossed the threshold and entered her living room she kissed him, embracing him tightly.

"Will you do something at my request, just this once?" she asked, smiling demurely.

"What is it?"

"Will you go to the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me?" she asked.

He starred at her for a brief moment longer, considering her request. "Sure. I'll be waiting in bed. Don't make me wait long."

Once he had slipped away, she removed her clothing and applied his gifts to her body. First, she slipped on his collar, enjoying the sudden claustrophobic tightness as she buckled it on. Then, after fastening the cuffs about her wrists she slipped her feet into the menacing looking shoes and buckled them on as well.

She discovered, as she looked through the box, that there was a small envelope. Curious, she opened it to discover that there were several small locks and a pair of keys. She tested them, discovering that, all the locks were identical and that one key was all that was necessary. In a moment, each of her adornments was locked on to her body, ensuring that only the bearer of the keys could release her from her trappings. Then, she headed to her bedroom and to the man who awaited her.

His weight pressed heavily on her doubled body. She had been bound with her arms stretched and spread over her head. Her ankles, much as she had imagined, had been bound to their corresponding wrist. He was pounding into her, whispering words of lust into her ears and heightening thrill of the moment.

He was generous that night, not torturing her by making her wait. When she asked permission to cum it was granted each time. Then, as was his practice, when he neared climax, he asked “Where would you like me to cum?”

Suddenly melancholy and knowing she was not yet worthy, she replied “On my face”.

Then, as if in a dream, he pulled out of her and straddled her bound body. She watched in disbelief as he stroked his cock, spewing his semen across her face. Her melancholy was replaced, in that instance, with pride and happiness.

Three more times he made love to her bound body. Three more times she was found worthy to wear his cum.  Finally, spent, he lay down beside her and slipped into the darkness of sleep.

As he drifted into dreams, she lay beside him, proud to be wearing his cum. Her apparent worthiness filled her with happiness and pride. It was then that she realized that her worthiness was determined, not by the quality of her blowjobs or her obedience but by her willingness to give herself over. It was that release and it’s accompanying trust that had made her worthy to wear his seed. Happy, and with a smile on her damp and sticky face, she joined James in sleep.

Morning came too soon. With it, she discovered the pain that comes with being bound doubled over for so long. Looking over to James she could see that he was still sleeping. She thought, for a fleeting moment, that she might wake him and ask to be let loose of her bonds. Then she thought of how he had made her feel the previous night and decided to endure the discomfort she was feeling. Besides, she did not want to disappoint him in any way.

Eventually, the call of nature woke James. After a quick trip to the bathroom he returned and released her fatigued and sore body from her bonds.

“Suck my cock,” he commanded, lying back on the bed.

Her initial reaction was one of irritation. She was quick to catch herself before her irritation was made public. After a quick stretch, she slid down between his legs and took his cock in her mouth. Fortunately for her cramping muscles, he was not long in reaching climax. After delivering a fresh coating of semen to her face, he commanded she ready breakfast while he showered.

Breakfast was nearly complete when he sauntered into the kitchen. She turned and smiled, dried cum flaking along the corners of her mouth and the dimples in her cheeks.

"Cum for me", he commanded.

A brief moment passed as his words sank into her head. Suddenly the wave hit her and she was forced to grip the counter top to keep from falling to the ground. Moments later, she regained her strength and stared at him wide eyed.

"Bacon’s burning." He was casual, as if her cumming with only his command were an every day occurrence.

Perplexed and slightly unbelieving in what had just happened, she returned to her cooking. She was in a daze during the rest of her cooking duty. She was still thinking of the strange occurrence when she finally placed their food on the table and took her seat opposite him.

"How did you do that?" she inquired. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Pavlov's dogs,” he said, grinning. "I trained you. Now, you cum on command."

"No fucking way! That's not possible”, she exclaimed. "I'm not like some dog that you can train to do tricks."

"Yes you are. I own you. Now, cum for me."

This time, there was no hesitation. Instead, the wave hit hard and quick. She stared at him from under troubled brows, excited, dismayed and frightened at this new development. When her orgasm finally subsided she opened her mouth, as if to speak. Nothing was emitted, however, and she stared, a dumb animal, unable to form words.

He smiled at her, noting the odd mix of emotions that were apparent on her semen coated face.

"Eat up", he said.

Finally, after several long moments of silence, her thoughts returned to her. Several times she made to speak. Her thoughts, returned though they were, were a jumble and she was unable to form a coherent structure to them. She felt that she should say something: perhaps an edict of irritation or pleasure. Little came to her, however.

"Oh my God. You… I… this can't be real!" she finally gasped. “You…I….can’t…what the hell?”

He merely chuckled, noting to her how pleased he was that she could be trained so well. He was quick to note, much to her chagrin, how “wonderful” she looked when cumming for him at his command. She was not so thrilled as he.

It was nearly a week before she fully accepted and began to enjoy his control over her orgasms. She had worried, initially, that anyone could make her cum. He assured her that it was not likely. Few people, he offered, would likely make such a command.

“Besides”, he offered, “It’s not just the command: it’s who commands.”

A month later she quit her apartment and moved in with him. On this day she was informed that she would be expected to change her house wear. Her collar, cuffs and stiletto heels were to be her standard mode of dress, unless otherwise ordered. When they were out, he allowed, she could wear whatever she wanted adding, “unless I have other ideas for your evening wear.” To her surprise, she found this edict quite arousing.

Weeks turned to months and then, before she knew it, another year was gone and they were fast approaching their second anniversary together. This anniversary, rather than present her with a gift, he requested one from her.

"It's a request and not a command,” he told her. "It requires your free consent and will not be considered disobedient should you choose against it.”

His request stunned her and she was glad he gave her time to mull it over. Even more relieving was that it was not a demand. With a bra size of thirty-four "DD" she was already a large breasted woman. Especially considering her breasts were housed on a five foot three inch frame. Having them enlarged, to whatever size he had planned, would make her look ridiculous.

Finally, on the day of their anniversary, she came to him and told him she could not grant his request and asked if she could give him anything else. With a smile, she was instructed not to worry on the matter.

His calm and happy willingness to forget his request only served to disappoint her. For, despite his reaction, she felt as if she had failed him.


She lay on her belly, each ankle bound to it's corresponding wrist. If she could have she would have been screaming. Instead, she could only attempt to scream, a large ball gag halting her voice from completely expressing her pain. James lay on top of her, thrusting his cock into her ass. As she had always feared, it was a terrible pain and it could not end soon enough. When he had begun his binding he promised she would experience pain. He was quick to admit that he could make this a more pleasurable experience. In the future, it would likely bring her great pleasure and minimal, if any, pain. However, there was only one first time and his sadistic side was in need.

His entry was excruciatingly painful and felt as if he were ripping her in twain. As he had prepared her, he dripped a small amount of saliva between the crack of her posterior. Then, after rubbing his cock over the saliva and his intended target, he forced his way in. One slow and steady thrust and he was buried deep in her ass. She screamed as best she could, hoping he would stop or withdraw or just give her a moment to recover. Her wish was not met. As soon as he had buried himself inside her ass, he began his long and painful strokes; each stroke nearly pulling from her tortured ass, only to be buried, once again, deep inside of her.

At first entry, James reveled in her obvious pain and futile struggles. When his further thrusting was met with even more pain and struggles he was near to ecstatic. Consequently, the more she screamed and struggled, the harder and faster he thrust. It was a vicious cycle. It was over too soon for James. After mere minutes he could contain himself no more. With a sudden jerking and arching of his back, he climaxed, sending a hot wave of fluid into her colon.

For a long while afterwards he lay on top of her, allowing his cock to grow soft inside her battered hole. With his softening he could feel the involuntary twitch of her sphincter. Pleasurable as that was, it hardly compared with her voluntary squeezing and pushing her felt. Few things were, to James, more intense or exciting than feeling a tightening asshole around his cock.Lifting his head, he decided it might be time to pull the gag from her mouth. She might, he thought, be unable to breathe after so much crying. On the other hand, he was likely to get an ear full of angry complaints. Judgment and care prevailed.

Upon removal of the gag there was little from her other than soft crying. To his surprise, after she had regained herself, she did not offer up any words of anger or harsh comments. Instead, her words were a quiet description of the pain she had suffered. Then she returned to her quiet sobbing.

For many minutes James pondered her reaction to his brutal act of buggery. She had not expressed anger or told him she would never allow it again, as he expected. Instead, she seemed to have accepted it. More importantly, it seemed that she had accepted the possibility that she might suffer similarly in future. Her nature, he noted, was gaining more ground, while the headstrong woman was losing ground.

The next morning found them in the shower together. As many couples in love are wont to do, they were enjoying the sensuous pleasures of washing their lover. As is often the case, the two followed the occasion by drying each other off under the cover of the hot misty room. Over breakfast they spoke of the previous nights activities. He admitted to her the intense pleasure it had provided him. Her struggles and tears, he told her, had caused him to find climax with considerable quickness. He also admitted to looking forward to enjoying such pleasures again.

Debbie was less enthusiastic. She admitted to wanting to experience anal sex but she had never wanted such pain. She concluded her comments on the matter with an expression of hope, that the next time wouldn’t be so painful.

“You’re enjoying the conversation, aren’t you?” asked James.

“No,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “It was painful and humiliating. Why would I enjoy talking about something that was so unpleasant?”

He pushed and prodded with invasive and embarrassing questions. Finally, in a burst of frustration, she admitted the conversation was arousing.

“Look,” she concluded, “I don’t know why it’s arousing and I don’t like that it is! And that arouses me too! Okay?”

"It's the humiliation", he told her. "You enjoy the humiliation."

She looked at him with furrowed brows. "You're nuts. Who, in their right mind, would get off on being humiliated?"

"You get off on it.” He was almost too matter of fact for her tastes; almost smug.

"No", she replied, looking into her coffee cup. "I don't like to be humiliated. I like that it pleased you, that's all."

After breakfast, he brought her to the living room and made her kneel in front of him.

"In a few minutes, I am going to fuck your ass again. This time", he said, "You are not going to be tied up. This time you are going to be on your knees. This time I am going to cum in your mouth. Go take care of the dishes and return to the front room."

She swallowed hard, hoping to find a way to escape his proclaimed plans. She was not ready to be taken that way again. Beyond the pain, she was also disgusted at the thought of his cock going from her ass to her mouth. Before she could make to speak, he was gone, retiring to their living room.

The dishes were done in a haze. Throughout her chore she sought the words, which would get her out of this terrible predicament. Unfortunately, she was unable to find those words and, upon her arrival to the living room, she found herself quite unable to resist his wants.

"Are you my whore?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm your whore.” Her voice was thin and shaky.

She hated the term "whore". She hated all such derogatory terms for women. More than speaking those words, she hated calling herself a whore. Worse yet, she hated the excitement she felt at telling him she was a whore – his whore.

"Get on your hands and knees and get ready to take my cock up your ass", he ordered.

Slow to obey, she received a stern look that made her feel insignificant and small. It was all it took to set her into motion.

"Get that ass up and your head down", he commanded. "I want to see that big ass of yours and nothing else, cunt!"

She bit her lip and slumped into position. Her internal battle became greater and she began to question why she let him treat her so.

 "Tell me what you feel like right now."

She took a deep breath, assessing his question. "I feel horrible. I feel like a piece of meat… I hate it. And those words you used for me… I hate those words. They're demeaning."

"Why did you obey then?" he asked.

"I don’t know! Because I have to…it’s how you want me”, she began, “I want to be what you want. I need to…to be what you want me to be.”

James knelt behind her and reached out to her sex. She was wet. Fingers probed at her wet entrance, finding their way inside of her to stroke her.

"You're plenty wet, aren't you?"

"Yes… yes, I'm wet.”  She was sobbing now.

"Would you still say that you dislike humiliation?"

"I can't like it", she cried. "If I did… if… there would be something wrong with me. What kind of person would I be?"

He continued stroking her; pointing out how wet she while using vile words to describe her and her reaction to his comments. Before long, she was panting, begging for release. He would not allow it.

"Not yet, my cum slut. Not until you admit how much you like this humiliation”, he whispered to her.

She cried out, frustrated and angry. She knew that she should storm out and tell him what she thought of his words but she could not bring herself to do so. Instead, she begged for release.

"Not until you admit it, cunt!" he said, his voice sounding contemptuous.

She hated him, suddenly. He already knew how she reacted to his humiliating words and treatment. He already knew how it aroused her. Wasn’t it enough that he knew? Why should she have to tell him? All these thoughts filled her mind. Suddenly, she heard her thoughts. It was at that exact moment when he withdrew his hand from her twitching sex, drawing a terrible groan of protest.

"Please, please, don't stop. I need it. Please, I'll do anything", she begged. " I like being called names and being treated like a whore. Please… let me come! Please! I like being humiliated. "

He did not appease her. Instead, he clipped her chin with his finger, lifting her to face him. “Good girl,” he told her, before leaving her with her thoughts.

Humiliated, confused and ashamed, Debbie curled into a ball on the floor and cried as she had never cried before. Such torture was repeated with more and more frequency in the coming months. Each night she would fight it, eventually giving in. Each night, she would be left to cry, alone with her painful knowledge.

Eventually, she gave up fighting what she knew was true without a fight. Immediately after, she broke down in tears. Unlike before, however, James was quick to take her in his arms and whisk her into their bed, to comfort her and wipe away her tears.

“One does not choose ones sexual orientation or skin color anymore than one chooses what excites them sexually,” he explained.

She accepted his comments - mostly. Somewhere deep down, however, she wondered if he was wrong and if she hadn't committed some crime that she was subconsciously punishing herself for.


They were laying on the couch on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The sun shone through the trees outside, casting shadows that moved with the light breeze. As usual, she was naked but for her cuffs, collar and stilettos. Half asleep, she wrested on his lap, her arms wrapped around him, secure and comfortable.

She looked up at him and smiled. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"You know what I want", he told her.

She furrowed her brows quizzically, nodding her head to the negative.

"Right now, I would enjoy seeing your wonderful breasts enhanced a bit", he told her. "Remember when I mentioned it before?"

She clamped her lips tightly, considering his comment. For a long time she stared at him, not making a sound. She had all but forgotten his request, having received no further comments on the matter since declining his initial request.

"How big do you want them?" she inquired.

"Doesn't matter. That is, it shouldn't matter to you."

"Of course, it matters. I have to work and live with them", she said. "And I would have to deal with the people at work. What would they think if I got my breasts - already a thirty-six "DD", I might add - enlarged? What kind of a narcissist would they think I am?"


"My job?"

He tilted his head to look at her. "Yeah. I have plenty of money. Or haven't you noticed?"

"How big?" she asked, her voice trailing into a higher octave.

"I don't know", he said. "I'll know when I talk to the doctor."

"But I can quit work and not have to worry about being ogled and ridiculed by anyone?"


In the past, she had considered having her breasts reduced somewhat, if anything. The notion of enlarging them further had never entered her mind until he had mentioned it. She looked up at him, thinking about his request; wondering what he had in mind. She loved him so much and longed to please him, always feeling as if she had committed a terrible crime if she failed him in any way. What was she to do, she wondered.

“You really want me bigger?” She was hopeful of a change.

“Yes,” he said. “I want you bigger.”

She thought of the possibilities. Maybe he only wanted her a little bigger, she thought – hoped. Then again, he might want her breasts to be as big as basketballs or bigger. How could she deal with something like that?

“I can’t,” she thought. “How can I? I’m already too big.”

She was suddenly sad, imagining the look in his eyes when she told him “No”. How could she disappoint him again? Especially after showing her who she really was? Especially after teaching her not to fight herself.

“I can’t disappoint him again,” she reasoned. “I can’t. I can’t… but I have to.”

She made to answer and then stopped, open-mouthed. She started again and then faltered. She gulped air, preparing for his disappointment. Then, she blurted out the words that surprised even her; “I’ll do it.”

The rest of the week was a blur for her. Often times she would stare at her bare breasts in the bathroom mirror, imagining how they would look after her impending surgery. One day, while she contemplated her future bra size, she heard his voice calling to her. It was time. The drive to the "Facility" was a long one. During the journey he explained that the doctor he was taking her to see was a friend of his.

"His name is Jerry and he specializes is this sort of thing", he told her. "Actually, he does far more extreme things for people than breast enlargements. Anyway, he is good. The best, in fact."

Upon arrival to the "Facility" she got an odd feel about it. It was clean and sterile, just like any other doctors office. However, the air about the place seemed rather cold and lifeless, as if something horrible lurked about. They were ushered into Jerry's office almost immediately. James and Jerry shook hands and engaged in a brief moment of small talk and catching up. Then they got down to the business at hand.

"So, you say you want to increase your bust size?"

"Well, yes. That is… er… James wants me to get it done and I want to do it for him", Debbie replied.

"Have you decided on a size?"

"Yes, I have,” James interjected. “So, if you can get her prepped, I can tell you what I want."

Jerry looked to Debbie smiling. "I see. Well then, give me about an hour and we will get her prepped." He then excused himself and departed.

“You decided?” Debbie whispered to James.

He smiled, nodding his head.

“How big?” she demanded.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Debbie was flustered now. “No. I don’t think it does. But it does… and it doesn’t.

James smiled and pulled her to him, assuring her.

"What about if I scar?” she asked, hoping to find a way out.

“Don’t worry,” interjected Jerry, “I go in through the naval. It’s called a TUBA. You won’t have to worry about scarring.”

The moment when she was called away came all too soon for her.

After the surgery, Jerry had offered to administer a mild sedative for the ride home. There would be residual pain and swelling for the next few weeks but there was no reason she should suffer the long ride and its many road hazards. James agreed and accepted the offer.

Debbie slept through the night. When she awoke the next morning, it was to see the friendly confines of their bedroom. Initially, she thought it had been a dream, having no remembrances of the return trip. Upon rising, she realized that it had not been a dream.

A loud "Oh, my God!" brought James to his feet. She was awake and, obviously, a bit surprised at her enhancements.

"How fucking big are my tits?" she demanded as he entered the room. "I'm fucking huge! What the fuck did you do to me?"

James said nothing. Her reaction was not a surprise to him. Instead, he sat on the bed and listened to her as spoke. She was not angry. Instead there was an accepting sadness as she spoke.

“This makes you happy?” she asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, my love, it makes me happy. Part of what you see is swelling, though.” He reached forward and wiped a tear from her eye. “You need to keep this bra on for the next few weeks, by the way.”

For several hours after her awakening, they would lay together. Sometimes her speech would be fast and nervous and others slow and melancholy. As the hours passed she asked, repeatedly, if he “really and truly” liked her new “soccer ball tits”.

Of all the things she had experienced it was, in fact, the most difficult thing she had been forced to come to grips with. Daily, it seemed, she would decide to tell James she wanted her implants removed. However, each time she faced him she failed to tell him her wishes, imagining his disappointment. After a few months of inner turmoil, she came to accept her new breasts.

Wanting the Unwanted

It was a Friday night. James had placed a gift-wrapped box on the bed and suggested it find it's way onto her body. "We're going out", he shouted from the bathroom, readying himself for a shower.

Obedient and excited, she pulled the contents from the box, flinging wrapping paper about the bed and floor. Within the box was a long silk evening gown and matching high-heeled shoes. When she slipped into it, she could only stare at the reflection of the beauty clad in pearlescent silk. It was all she could do not to cry.

When next she saw him, he was dressed in a fine silk suit. It was black but for small flecks of burgundy which brought out the color in his tie. She gasped, thinking him the most handsome man in the world.

"Tonight, we dine with some of my friends. In fact, you know Jerry. He is in town for some event", he told her. "There will be others. They all know of our relationship and are, in fact, involved in similar relationships as us."

She was a bit put off by his announcement. This would be the first time her relationship would be known to others and it made her uncomfortable. She was made a bit easier by his revelation that the others were involved similarly. Still, it was a bit off-putting. Once the night was over, however, she was at ease and happy.

"James", she beamed at him. "That was a marvelous night. Who would have thought Jerry would be the dancer he is?"

James grinned at her, well aware of his friend’s abilities.

"And you... you are evil - a tease. You had me hot all night!" she giggled. "Why didn't you tell me you could dance like that? And, James... why haven't you taken me dancing before?"

James stared at her, eyes narrow. She shivered, startled by the evil look in his eyes.

"Fuck me. You're going to torture me tonight, aren't you?" Her voice was barely audible.

Later that night, she found herself on her back, doubled over as she had been so many times before. James stood over her, his eyes ablaze and piercing through the darkness in the dim light of the room. He was slow in the removal of his suit. When he was finally naked, his cock stood out from him, a spit in search of a victim. Slowly he slid on the bed to rest his cock between her legs.

She shivered and tried, vainly, to push against him. Slight gasps and vocalized chirps escaped her lips as she shivered in anticipation. He was rubbing his cock between the cheeks of her ass now, running the tip of his cock over the small hole.

"Please don't", she begged. “Not tonight.”

He had only taken her ass only once. She had hated it and hoped he would never again make her suffer through such pain.

"You will ask for this tonight", he told her in a low voice.

She nodded her head negatively, knowing she would never do such a thing.

He nodded back at her. “You will”, he told her.

James stroked his fingers across the hole in her posterior, threatening entry but never entering. He bent down and flicked his tongue against her hole, surprising her. She moaned with the cool tickle, wondering if what he did felt good. It couldn't feel good, she knew. But had it?

He repeated his action again and again, tickling her hole with his tongue. Her concentration faltered and she found herself enjoying it, only to turn it away. He was merciless. Before long, she was helpless to deny her pleasure. Soon, she was begging to cum - begging for him to fuck her.

"No, no, my slut. Beg to be fucked up the ass", he whispered. "Then you will be fucked."

"I can't", she cried. "I can't."

"I won't fuck you until you beg me to fuck your ass."

She groaned, her will weakening. The sensations were intense and terrible. The humiliation of the moment was greater than she could over come and brought a sense of terrible and torturous need.

"Please fuck my ass!" she burst out, suddenly.

"Ask again, slut", he spat.

“Please don’t make me beg for it again… I can’t,” she cried.

“Beg me to fuck your ass”, he demanded.

He leaned down over her, staring through the darkness, rubbing his cock across her tightened sphincter. He pressed against it, again threatening entry: never entering.

“Beg for it”, he demanded again, continuing his non-advancing assault on her bottom. “I won’t enter you until you beg, whore”.

His words sent her over the edge. Able to take no more of his torture, she began to beg as he had commanded. First it was a breathless whisper.  Her pleas were unanswered so her begging became louder. Then, just as her words turned to another scream begging him to fuck her ass, he obliged her. He was slow this time. After lubricating himself with her heavily flowing juices he slipped his cock into her waiting hole. Upon his second stroke she found herself in the throes of a powerful orgasm, followed by another and then another.

His motions were slow and steady and then halting and hard. He stared into her eyes, meeting her in a steady gaze. He whispered words of love, filling her with warmth. Then his words changed to degrading and crass attacks, only to return to more loving words. It was a difficult night for her. Once they had finished making love, she had cried herself to sleep, taken with the strange turn she had taken. Her most powerful orgasms had come, not after words of love and care but after his most vulgar accusations. She had previously accepted a need for humiliation. On this night, however, she had faced it, truly understanding her need for humiliation.

The next day, as she showered, she reflected on the night past. It was beyond her to imagine that something that had been so terrible could be so incredibly satisfying. She had experienced powerful orgasms before but never any that had been quite so powerful as those she experienced last night. Too, she reflected on her self-discovery and wondered how it could be. After drying herself and applying her cuffs and collar, she came downstairs to the breakfast table. James was just setting their breakfast on the table when she entered the room. His first gaze brought a blush to her skin, embarrassed by her actions the previous night.

"You forgot to ask if you could cum, you know?"

She looked at him with a sheepish look. "I didn't think... I was... you…", she stammered.

"I know", he chuckled. "It's okay. Sit."

"You know", he began "Jerry was telling me that he could make your waist a little smaller. It's a minor bit of surgery. A small incision, the removal of a rib and a couple adjustments and you would have an even smaller waist."

"What are you looking for: Barbie?" she laughed. "Think I'll pass on it."

"I didn't think you would go for the idea. Not right now, anyway", he said. "Think on it. I think it would look pretty damned hot."


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