Again she crawled on hands and knees, naked in her own home, with a strange little man waiting to pat her head and toss the little rubber ball again and again. Jill's knees were getting rug burned, and she was tired of crawling, but still he tossed the horrible little ball, patting her head each time she returned it to him, wet with her saliva and bearing her teeth marks. She hated this game and she hated this man.
At last he said, “Time for your reward. Climb up here, doggy, and lay across my lap, with your ass in the air.” She climbed up, relieved at least to no longer play fetch, but wondering what he had planned now.
His thighs, encased in blue jeans, were hard against her. He smoothed her back and her ass cheeks for a moment, and then pressed her legs slightly apart. His fingers probed her pussy, easily finding her clit, which he circled and teased for a moment. Then he withdrew his hand and brought it back wet, rubbing and separating her labia with several fingers, and then plunging into her pussy. She was immediately wet, and angry at her body for responding when she had wanted to remain dry and indifferent to this horrible man.
He began as he had the night before, slowly and delicately teasing her until she was literally on fire with lust and need. “Do you want to come, slut?” She grunted her assent. “Ok, you can come, but I'm going to fuck you first, all right?” She nodded, knowing he would do what he wanted anyway. And she could use a cock right now in her pussy, even if it was a puny one like his.
"In the bed. I'm going to fuck you in Barry's bed.” A part of her bridled at this, but a part of her secretly thrilled to it. He led her to the bedroom, her pussy literally dripping with need. “Get on your hands and knees, doggy. I'm going to fuck your ass."
"My what?” She was nonplussed. She hadn't expected this.
"You heard me. But because I'm a nice guy,” he grinned, “I'm going to let you suck my cock first so it won't hurt your little asshole, which isn't stretched enough. If you were mine, I'd make you wear a dildo in it all the time, till I got it to where I could fuck you without you screaming. But since you're not mine, I'll just have to hear you scream."
He said this so matter of factly that it sent chills down Jill's spine. This man was truly a sadist. Luckily for her, she was used to Barry fucking her ass, and she even liked it. She could handle this guy's little dick, for sure. Then he came around to her, and put his cock in her face. He had opened his pants, and pulled them down part way. And poor Jill got a shock. This small wiry man didn't have a little cock at all. In fact, it was the largest, thickest cock she had ever seen, with a huge head to match.
He laughed at her expression. “What were you expecting, little girl? Didn't anyone ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover? Now open wide and let's see what you can do.” She opened her mouth and tried to take just the head in. She started to lick and suck it, and he seemed to like what she was doing, because he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into her. Then he took her head in his hands and pushed his cock further in, gagging her with its length. She tried to pull back but of course, he wouldn't let her.
Slowly he moved in and out, fucking her face. She let him do it, trying to relax, hoping he would come in her mouth and forget her ass. But no such luck. After several minutes he pulled away from her, his cock dripping with her kisses, and said, “Just a second; I have to get something.” He left the room and came back with a black candle and a box of matches. He set these on the bed and then came around behind her.
"Because you're not mine,” again her silent thanks, “I'm going to take pity on you and use some jelly. If you were mine, I'd fuck you raw, but I don't want to damage Barry's property.” So saying, he opened a tube of KY jelly and squirted some on his fingers. He smeared it onto her little asshole and then positioned himself behind her.
Jill screamed as his head entered her tight little ass, but he held her hips and wouldn't let her get away. She started to panic and buck, but this just made it worse, as he was very strong, and wouldn't let her get away. “Shh,” he whispered, “stop that silly struggling. You know it's much worse if you resist. Just relax and accept me. I'm going to fuck your ass and you can clench and bleed, or you can relax and maybe even enjoy it."
Bleed! She tried to control her fear and to relax her body. She knew he was right that it would hurt less if she could let go and open herself to him. And she knew she was being tested and given a chance to submit. Because this was when it was really submission; when you didn't want it, but you did it because the master wanted it. She could do this. She could get through one day with this man. She could handle this.
She felt herself relax, and felt his hands lighten their iron grip on her. Again he began to ease himself into her, saying soothingly, “That's it, whore. You can take it. You were made for this. That gorgeous ass was made for fucking."
Soon he was moving harder, faster, inside of her, until he was no longer thinking about making her submit, but was only feeling the intense pleasure of her little asshole clenching against his cock, creating the most lovely friction. He pumped her harder and harder until he came, thrusting into her so hard they both fell forward, his sweat dripping onto her back.
They lay there, both breathing heavily for several moments. At last he pulled up and out of her, which hurt for a second, and then he was gone, leaving her asshole gaping and full of gooey cum. She wanted to go the bathroom and push it out, as she always did when Barry used her this way. She started to rise but he said, “Where are you going? You're not going anywhere. I'm not done with you."
"Please, sir, I need to go the bathroom."
"No you don't. You aren't going to the bathroom for a while. I just gave you a gift. I don't give many people my sperm, but I gave it to you. And I want you to keep it in your nasty little ass for a while. So I'm going to plug it up. With this.” He held up the black candle and for a minute she thought he meant to insert the candle into her! But then she saw him lighting it and realized with a shock what he intended to do.
"Back on your knees, whore. Has anyone ever dropped hot wax on you? No? Well, get ready. Don't worry, it doesn't burn, at least, it doesn't blister. Now, don't move, or I'll tie you still and cover your body in melted wax. This will only take a minute."
She knelt back up on her hands and knees, asshole bared, and Paul held the candle over her, letting droplets of hot wax fall on her ass cheeks. She jumped each time a hot splash landed and then rapidly cooled. Once she adjusted to what was happening, he let a splash fall directly on her delicate asshole. This time she jerked and involuntarily moved away. “Stay still,” he commanded, and let several more hot drops land on her anus until the whole area was covered with a plug of dried wax. It felt very uncomfortable between her butt cheeks, but it didn't hurt.
"You may get dressed, just in your robe. Barry will be here in about an hour. Just time to cane you.” They both had forgotten his promise to let her come.
Hope rose in her on little wings. “He will? But I thought..."
Again he cut her off. “You really have no discipline. You aren't a slave. I don't even think you're slave material. You repeatedly speak without being invited to do so! I was going to work with you on that today, but Barry called this morning and he wants to come home.” She remembered suddenly the sound of a phone as she was waking up. “He misses you.” These last words were said with derision, and Jill felt her face flame with anger. This man was belittling her husband for wanting to come home to his wife! This man knew nothing of love! Whatever life he offered, whatever intensity, it wasn't worth the cost of love, surely. Then in her head she belatedly heard the second part of his sentence—"just time to cane you."
"Please, sir. I don't want to be caned. I don't think Barry would want..."
"Stop, or I'll gag you. At this point I don't give a fuck what Barry wants. Barry isn't here. I am. And I'm going to cane you. A farewell caning, because I won't be seeing you again. My time's too precious to waste on a wannabe slut and pretend master like you and Barry. So get your robe if you want, or don't; I don't care. And present yourself in the living room."
Jill got slowly off the bed. She watched Paul leave the room and then she shut the door quietly. She went to the phone and dialed Barry's cell, her heart in her mouth. It rang several times, and then a recorded message told her the cellular number she was trying to reach was not in range. Damn! She had hoped to reach him and tell him Paul was crazy and she wasn't going to submit anymore. She would just have to face him on her own.
She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, deliberately defying his mandate not to dress. She entered the living room and said, “Paul, I don't want to play anymore. I want you to leave now.” He turned toward her slowly, flexing the little rod he held in his hand.
"Oh, you don't, eh? You don't want to
play
anymore, is that it? Isn't that a shame, since I really don't give a fuck what you want.” He stood and started to walk toward her, and she began to edge back toward the bedroom. “You don't get it, do you, whore? This isn't about what
you
want. When are you going to figure that out? All you are is an object. An object to be used, debased and humiliated. You don't exist, except to serve. You have no rights. You signed them away. You did that willingly. You are a slave."
Jill's voice trembled, but she said, “That contract said you have to use me like my master would! It says you can't inflict harm or damage! You can't cane me; it would mark me! Barry wouldn't do that to me. You can't! Please!” Her voice was pleading. Still Paul continued to advance, his stance menacing, the cane held between both hands.
"Jill...” He used her name for the first time, but she didn't notice. She felt her heart pounding in her throat as she tried to back into the bedroom so she could lock the door. He moved quickly and suddenly he was beside her, and then behind her, preventing her from getting away. “Jill, you've learned nothing. You are fit for nothing. You are not a slave. You are a just a whore."
"And you're just a bully,” she screamed, her voice shrill with fear. “You can't demand trust, you have to earn it. And you can't get it by force! If you cane me now, it's assault, plain and simple, and I'll have you arrested! Get away from me!"
Paul didn't seem to be listening, and didn't seem fazed by her threats and protests. Taking her wrists in one hand, he held them up and away from her body, easily keeping her at bay while he unzipped her jeans with his other hand and pulled them down. He jerked her arms up behind her body and forced her to the ground. He whipped the cane through the air, causing a whistling sound that elicited a whimper of terror from Jill, whose face was pressed into the carpet.
He let one blow land, just one searing lash of the cane. And then he let her go and stood up. Jill lay crying on the carpet, as Paul calmly packed his things and left. “Tell Barry not to call me; I don't have time for game players.” And he was gone.
Barry found Jill palefaced but composed, sitting on the couch, again dressed in jeans and sweatshirt. With her hair brushed back from her face, and no makeup, she looked like a teenager. Barry rushed toward her, his arms out. He had felt conflicted about returning early, but after a sleepless night, knew he had to get home to her, no matter how humiliated he felt in front of Paul.
They embraced and Barry asked, “So, where's Paul?” Jill didn't answer, and her face was buried in his shoulder. She was shaking and he realized with a terrible shock that she was crying! “Jill! Honey, what is it? Shh, stop, it's ok. What happened?"
She couldn't speak, so he just held her, waiting for her to cry it out and calm down. At last she raised her head and said, “Oh, Barry. Thank God you're home."
"Jill, you have to tell me. What happened? Did that bastard hurt you? I'll kill him. What happened!” He stood up, looking as if he were ready to do battle. Jill reached out her arms.
"No, he's gone. Don't worry, he's gone.” And she told him everything. Tears spilled over Barry's cheeks when Jill told him about the caning, and Jill started to cry again at his tears. They embraced. He stood and carried her into the bedroom.
They held each other and finally drifted to sleep, still wrapped in each others arms. Barry was the first to awaken, and he lifted himself on one elbow to gaze at his wife in the half light of twilight. They had slept the day away, it seemed. She slowly opened her eyes, as if aware he was looking at her. She looked so fragile and beautiful that his heart actually hurt in his chest as he looked at her.
"I'm not submissive, Barry, not slave material,” she whispered, and turned her face away, waiting for his disappointment.
Instead she heard, “And I'm not a ‘master’ Jill, whatever that is. I just know I love you. And I love what we do, and how we play. And I know it's just play and I don't want anything else from you at all. The contract was stupid. Let's burn it. Let's just be husband and wife. You are my wife, Jill. Be my wife. I don't want a slut, or a whore. I just want you. You, you, you."
Relief poured over Jill, and she clung to Barry, loving him so much she thought her heart would burst. He kissed her, slipping his arms around her, holding her and covering her face with kisses, kissing away the tears. His mouth found hers and they kissed, this time with passion, and mounting heat. His hands strayed down and found her perfect breasts, bare beneath the sweatshirt.
"But, Barry, I love being your slave girl. I don't want to give it up, and all the delicious terrible things you do to me.” She sounded petulant. Barry laughed.
"You sweet nut! How could we
ever
go back to vanilla after what we've had? I still own you, slave girl. I guess the thing of it is, you own me too."
He pinched her nipples and she moaned, pressing into him. Unbuttoning her jeans, he slid a hand down to her bare pussy. He felt it, touching her nakedness, and then finding her opening, which was already wet with desire for him. For him! He had been consumed with insecurity when he left her with Paul. She would fall in love with Paul, a ‘real’ dom, and leave him. But this passion was for him; he knew it now. He relaxed fully for the first time since their marriage, fully giving himself over to his consuming love for this girl.