Big Book of Smut (5 page)

"Thank you, Mistress. Thank you for the cock ring. Thank you for allowing me to touch myself." I was contrite. I truly was. Had I really forgotten or had I subconsciously just wanted the punishment?

"That’s better. However, it was a bit tardy, don’t you think?"

It was now clear why she hadn’t provided any reminder. She’d wanted me to make mistakes. She’d wanted an excuse for correction.

"Mistress, I’m truly sorry. I forgot myself."

"Why yes, you did. Whatever shall we do about this?" Her question was clearly rhetorical and she began to pace around the room with a thoughtful expression. "Well? What would serve as a reminder for you?" She paused, pinning me with a penetrating gaze.

I broke out in a cold sweat. I suspected she had something in mind, but I had no idea what. I was simultaneously afraid and yet compelled to continue.

"I asked you a question. What . . . would . . . help . . . you . . . remember!" She bit off each word with emphasis. She seemed truly angry now.

"Mistress, it’s not for me to say. I’m sorry I didn’t show proper respect. I’ll try harder."

"Yes, I know that you will. Especially with a reminder."

My ass clenched. What would she use?

She crossed to a cabinet and opened the door. Hanging on the inside of the door were a variety of whips and canes. I cringed. Was I ready for that? Last time she’d just used a small paddle, and the application had done more than just sting. She turned toward me.

"What do you think?"

I was silent. I didn’t know what to think. Was this too far for me?

She selected two items, a small cane about two feet long and a cat o’ nine tails with knotted cords. She held them out toward me.

"Well?"

"Mistress, I’ll accept whatever you say."

She drew a deep breath, gathering her patience. "Which . . . one?"

They both looked quite formidable. I’d never been caned. It wasn’t too thick, less than the diameter of my thumb. I’d heard a caning could be pretty brutal, though this one wasn’t wet.

I swallowed hard. "Mistress . . ."

"You . . . must . . . choose." Her intonation offered no compromise.

"Mistress, the cat o’ nine tails."

She nodded and put the cane back.

"I think you can do better, no?" Her voice had softened.

I knew what she wanted. "Please Mistress, use the cat o’ nine tails on my ass." My voice quivered a bit, but despite my fear I found that I craved it. I looked down at my cock. It was rock hard and I could see fluid oozing from the tip.

She smiled. "That was ever so much better." She walked behind me and I felt her rub the cat o’ nine tails against my ass, caressing each cheek.

I shivered and my cock pulsed. Expectation and dread flowed through me.

She pressed the tip of the handle against the cleft of my ass and I flinched.

She laughed. "Don’t worry. That’s not for today." She circled around to my face, her heels clicked on the floor, and she gazed into my eyes. I couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked down. She placed her finger under my chin and lifted my gaze. "Don’t look so nervous. Isn’t this what you want? What you
need
?"

She began to walk around me again. I swallowed and remained silent.

"Hmmm. I can see you need a great deal of instruction. Just when I think we're making progress you prove me wrong."

The knotted cords brushed against me as she circled.

She suddenly stopped with a slight stomp of her shoe. "I'm waiting." Her bright lips pursed and her eyes flashed.

I tried to stammer out a response. "Uh, please Mistress."

She raised an eyebrow.

I struggled to find the words. "Please Mistress. I need to be punished for my transgressions. Please use the cat o' nine tails on me."

"Better. But where? Here?" She dragged the cords over my cock and I flinched in response.

"My ass, Mistress. Please flog my ass." There was a quiver in my voice but no hesitation. I'd given myself over. I was going where she was taking me.

"Grab your ankles."

I leaned forward and wrapped my hands around my legs. I could feel the skin of my ass stretch tight, and I couldn't help but clench my muscles. Her heels clicked on the floor as she paced back and forth behind me. Occasionally she would brush the cords against my ass and I would quiver in response. The agony of waiting was becoming interminable. Why didn’t she just do it already?

Suddenly, I could wait no more. "Please Mistress. Please give me what I deserve. Make me sorry I didn't show you the proper respect. Please, I'm begging you."

As my words ended, I felt the first blow. I was stunned by the intensity. Pain streamed over my skin and I tried to hold back my cry. My skin continued to sting long after the blow. Then there was another. God, it hurt! Had I really asked for this? Yes, I had. And though I loathed it, I required it. My cock felt ready to burst. It was throbbing painfully, constricted at the base by the cock ring.

She gave me two more strokes and then I felt her hand on my ass, rubbing the flaming skin. Her touch sent me over the edge. The strong waves of my orgasm nearly knocked me off my feet. Never had I come so deeply, so intensely. My whole groin was infused with electric heat as my cock convulsed again and again while streams of come landed on the floor.

I felt her fingertip at my anus, and I had to lock my knees to keep from collapsing. I gasped for breath as my mind returned to reality.

"Did you enjoy that, my sweet?"

I nodded. "Yes Mistress. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"There is one tiny problem though." Her voice was not angry, but rather thoughtful.

"Uh, errr. I'm sorry Mistress?" I couldn't follow her.

"There seems to be a bit of a mess on the floor."

She was right. There was come on my thighs, but a few small pools were on the floor.

"I'm so sorry Mistress. I'll clean it up immediately."

"Mmmm. Do wipe yourself off. As for that," she pointed to the floor," perhaps we can come to an agreement."

I grabbed some tissue and wiped myself off wondering what she might mean.

"You did say you wanted to touch me didn't you?"

"Oh yes, Mistress. More than anything."

"Well perhaps if you tidy up your mess. I'll let you." She smiled seductively, her eyes indicating a plan that I wasn't quite aware of yet.

I took another tissue.

"Oh no. That isn't quite what I meant."

"I don't understand Mistress."

"If you clean up your mess,
yourself
, I'll let you kiss my pussy."

The thought of touching her so intimately sent my mind racing. To touch her pussy, smell her, taste her wet juices, the thought overwhelmed me.

"Mistress, please. Tell me what you want me to do."

She moved to an armchair and sat down. She hooked a leg over each arm and spread her legs wide. I hadn't been able to see her pussy clearly before. It had been covered by the fabric of her outfit. It glistened, so beautiful. I wanted to see it more closely and moved toward her.

"Uh uh." She waved her finger at me. "You have something you need to do first." She pointed toward the floor. "You're lucky it was washed just this morning."

Then I understood. She wanted me to lick up my own come. I'd always had a bit of an aversion to it for no particular reason. I hesitated.

"Mmmmm. Disappointing." She put one leg down and I couldn't see the sweet slit between her legs any more.

I wanted it though. Did I want it bad enough? Barely a second passed before my mind screamed yes, and I was on my knees licking up my own come. I did it quickly, not really thinking about it. It was slick on my tongue and I swallowed without tasting. When I got back up I saw a pleased, satisfied look on her face. Her legs were spread again, and she fingered her clit. I shook; I wanted to touch her badly.

"Get a drink of water and then you may come here."

I scrambled for it quickly, downing half a glass. I kneeled before her, trembling in anticipation. I moved to touch her.

"Goodness, one would think you hadn't learned anything at all." She pointedly looked away.

"I'm sorry Mistress, so sorry. I'm . . . your pussy is so beautiful. I can't help myself."

"Put your cock ring on the table. Don't forget to wear it next time you come."

I carefully eased the ring off and placed it on the table.

She nodded toward me. "You know what you need to do."

"Please Mistress, may I touch you? Please, Mistress, let me kiss and lick your pussy. Please!"

"Since you ask so nicely, you may, but hands behind your back. Just use your mouth."

I kneeled between her legs and put my arms behind me. Tentatively, I leaned forward and touched the tip of my tongue to her clit. She sighed and relaxed. I boldly took her clit between my lips and began to suck. I felt a little quiver pass through her and felt honored that I was giving my Mistress pleasure.

I lifted my head. "Please Mistress, may I lick your sweet pussy?"

She smiled. "Yes, fuck me with your tongue."

I slid my mouth down to her wet hole and pressed inside. Her hand grabbed my hair, holding my head in place as she pressed against my mouth. I flicked my tongue around her opening and then thrust in and out. Without warning, I felt the cat o' nine tails come down on my lower back, the knots hitting my ass, and I jumped but didn't stop fucking her with my tongue. This was the trade-off, and it was worth it.

About the Author

Malia Mallory is the author of
The ABCs of Erotica
(A-C available now) and
Santa’s Backdoor Baby
, a holiday novella. Her newest story is
Mia’s Cop Craving
. All are available at major online retailers such as
Amazon
,
Barnes & Noble
and
AllRomance Books
. To receive a free copy of “B is for Beach,” sign up for her newsletter at her
website
.

Connect with Malia Mallory
:

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http://www.twitter.com/@MaliaMallory

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My Blog -
http://abcsoferotica.wordpress.com/

Web site -
http://www.maliamallory.com

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fluttering of my own heart. They were staring at me. All of their beady little eyes watching, waiting for me to confess all my dirty sins in one exhale so I could take the first step toward healing and recovery.

I felt ridiculous up there. Healing and recovery... what a crock of shit! Why was it so wrong to love love something that felt so right? Society was seriously messed up if they thought they could stop people from having sex with a twelve-step program and a heavy layer of guilt. God, I wanted nothing more in the world than to find the strength to walk out the door and never look back, but I couldn't do that.

My husband Kenny was counting on me to see this through, and after everything I'd done to him in the last five years, I couldn't let him down again.

I swallowed my pride and allowed the air that filled my lungs to deflate in one long sigh that fluttered the loose pieces of hair that dangled over my brow.

"Hi," I began, my voice cracking under the pressure of that one word. "My name is Lila and…"

And what? I was a slut? A whore? And I had a problem with sex? The absurdity of those words alone was almost enough to make me laugh.

"And I… I am… I guess I am a sex addict."

A chorus of greetings circulated the room, a combination of male and female voices, young and old, fat and thin, stunning and hideous. My inner-cynic wondered how in the hell someone as fat and dirty as the greasy guy taking up half of the second row could possibly be a sex addict, the power of his hungry gaze as he stared me down told me far more than I'd ever want to know about him.