OBEDIENTLY EVER AFTER II Read online

  "Yes, Master." She drew strength, from the calmness of his voice, from his very presence, but she was fully aware that it was like the umbrella. On loan, by his whim, for his purposes.

  "Do you know why I am whipping you?"

  "I was an unfaithful wife, Master. I allowed another man's cock into my mouth."

  "Into my mouth," he corrected gently enough.

  "Your mouth. Sorry Master."

  "It's okay, honey." He put something to her lips. "Open."

  Miranda took the grape, eagerly breaking the skin with her teeth. The moisture was so good, and the sweet taste going down her throat. "Thank you, Master."

  He fed her several more. "Now let's get these legs apart a little more, shall we?"

  Miranda complied, anxious to show him she appreciated the snack. "Is this good, Master?"

  He stroked her head. "Perfect."

  She sighed, feeling the touch of his erect cock on her hip. He was naked.

  "We must use a word, Miranda. Grape. You will say that word if the pain is too much. I rely on you, because it is not my intention to harm you. Only punish. Can you do this for me?"

  "Yes, Master." Tears welled in her eyes, again. "I will."

  But not easily, she vowed. For his sake, and for their love, she would take as much as she could. Like a good slave, a good wife.

  Rob tested the whip in the air. She heard the whistle, sharp and keen. A second later she heard a thwack. Leather on skin. He was trying it on himself first.

  "Are you ready, Miranda?"

  "Yes, Master." As ready as she would ever be.

  He hit her lightly the first time, the experience being new for both of them. She stood on tiptoes, the pain going straight up her spine.

  She did not say grape.

  Rob massaged her ass. Was he admiring his work?

  A second later she heard the whip in the air then an explosion of pain, much stronger than the first. Now it was real. She was a slave, being punished.

  "Miranda..." Rob's voice was throaty. "I wish you could see how fucking incredible you look. "My god." His fingers clutched at her, greedy, possessive. "You're marked. You have my mark on you."

  Miranda humped the car hood. "Again, Master. Whip me again."

  He delivered a clean steady blow. "Fucking incredible," he said.

  She shivered with the heat, burning her inside out. Her cunt melting down, her ass, welted and whipped, like a slut, an animal, a dog.

  "Wh-whip me ... more..." She wasn't calling him Master; then again, she wasn't exactly coherent.

  Rob struck again, somewhere on her upper thighs. She was crying, from the whole thing, the desire, the anguish.

  She was trying to tell him to keep on whipping, but it came out as fuck instead.

  Rob put her out of her misery, finally, his rock hard erection slipping inside her desperate, waiting hole. She took him all at once, her muscles opening to receive him to the hilt. She was his. His.

  Rob's hands clamped her hips. He fucked her hard, slamming his pelvis against her welted ass. She came during his first thrust, an uncontrollable flood, a complete dissolution of her being. Miranda was beyond pain, beyond pleasure, too. This was soul bondage, the connection of her being to a superior one; to a man, who held the keys to the chains she must wear, and who held the leash that would attach to her collar.

  She would kneel always. She would crawl. Beg. And serve.

  Would he whip her more for coming without permission? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Certainly he seemed pleased with her at the moment as he rutted her, pistoning her pinioned body against his car hood. His car. In his garage. His woman. His cunt.

  Rob roared as he climaxed, like a lion, pronouncing its lordship over some distant veldt. Miranda had never heard a happier sound in her life. She would live for that sound, she would devote herself to it, bringing it to his lips as often as he would allow.

  Miranda's release was total and absolute. She was subjugated.

  Rob remained inside her, his cock still throbbing. He nuzzled her neck. "My beautiful girl."

  Miranda melted all over again. Sensing her intimate needs, Rob withdrew his manhood and scooped her up into his arms. It was just like her dream, back at Mark's house.

  Her weight was nothing to him. She snuggled against his shoulder, feeling small and safe and warm.

  "Lie here a minute," he whispered, settling her down on their bed.

  "I'm dirty," she murmured.

  "Don't worry about that, honey," he soothed. "Just close your eyes. I'll be right back."

  She drifted off to sleep at once, her mind filled with sweet and wonderful thoughts, about him, the man who was stepping forward to be the kind of husband she really needed.

  * * * *

  Rob dipped his fingers in the bath water one last time before declaring it ready for Miranda. He had sweated over the exact mix of hot and cold, adding a healthy amount of bubbles to boot. It had to be nothing short of perfect. His heart was so swollen with love right now. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his darling. His wife. She had given him everything, her heart and soul, her body, her freedom. She had agreed to become his in every way, subject to his pleasure and his pain.

  There was no greater gift a wife could give. In return, she was owed nothing less than his complete devotion. No harm must ever come to her. She trusted him to be the man, and that was what he would do.

  A bath would be just the right the thing for her. She had been through much today. A rough fucking and much in the way of degradation and slave humiliation. She deserved to know the tender side of his mastery, too.

  She would wear ribbons as his pet; and not just steel. She would know the caresses of her owner, and not only the sting of his whip. Praises and treats must fill her day, and not only the fear of punishment.

  Rob knew these things by instinct. How she must be handled and how she must be trained. The very notion of training his beautiful wife made him hard as a rock. He wanted her, ferociously. Rising from his kneeling position in front of the bath he wondered if he would be able to keep his hands off Miranda long enough to get her back here before the water got cold.

  He found her sleeping on her side. She had curled herself into a little ball, adorable, and sexy as hell. He wanted to do things to her. To put the collar on her and the chains. He wanted to whip her again. He wanted to take her, from behind. He wanted to come in her mouth, on her tongue and on her cheeks and in her hair. He wanted her mounted on top of his shaft, fucking him as hard as her little body would move; the whip in his hand for incentive.

  He wanted her on the floor crawling, cute as can be at his side. Out to the kitchen, to a little bowl on the floor with her name on it.

  "Miranda," he said softly. "It's time for your bath."

  She sighed softly, reaching for him.

  He took hold of her breast, molding it to the shape of his hand. "It's time to wake up, girl."

  Miranda's eyes opened slowly. It was her first time waking up as a slave.

  "Did you have a good sleep?" He asked.

  "Yes, Master."

  He kissed her deeply. "Good girl," he praised her for remembering to address him properly. "Are you ready for your bath?"

  She nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Is it night time, Master?"

  "No. It's still afternoon. You only slept a little while." He took her hand. "Come on, the water's waiting."

  Miranda let him lead her, her feet shuffling in that little half step she always had before she was fully awake. "A bubble bath," she exclaimed softly. "Thank you, Master."

  Rob helped her into the tub. "Settle back," he urged. "Get comfortable." His intention was to wash her, although he had some ulterior motives, too.

  To this end, he had tied a piece of rope to the towel bar.

  "Hands up," he said.

  Miranda obeyed, only to find herself bound, wrists cinched together. "Oo, Master," she teased. "A kinky bath."

  Rob grinned and slapped her lean belly. "Legs apart, girl."
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  She spread as wide as she could for him. What a sight she made, the bubbles half covering her exposed, erect nipples, her bare pussy enticingly available just a few inches under the water.

  "My intention is just to keep you from squirming around," he teased back. "While I try and scrub all these layers of dirt off you."

  "And whose fault is that, Master?"

  Rob tweaked her nipple playfully. "No one likes a mouthy slave girl."

  Miranda wriggled, tugging at her bound wrists. "You don't play fair, Master."

  "I'm not supposed to." Rob dunked the sponge, a large loofa. He intended for his slave to become rather intimate with it before the bath was over. "Head forward," he ordered. "Eyes closed."

  Saturating the sponge, he squeezed it over the top of her, soaking down her hair for a washing. "I might save money if I buy dog shampoo," he mused.

  "You wouldn't dare, Master!"

  "Sure I would. I'll buy it with your dog cage and your dishes and all the rest."

  He watched her lifting her pelvis, subtly. "Oh, fuck," she moaned. "That turns me on, Master. What a slut I am."

  "You're my slut," he patted down her hair with the sponge. "Now keep your eyes closed."

  "Yes, Master," she smiled, trusting him to pour the shampoo. He did so a little liberally, enjoying the sight of the white creamy, liquid running down her cheeks and onto her breasts.

  "Master," she winced. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing," he began to lather her, his fingers needling her scalp.

  "Liar," she said.

  He twisted a nipple until she cried out. "Master, master, I meant to say Master."

  "An honest mistake." Rob had a cup on the side of the tub. Grasping her hair in his hands, he filled it with water and poured the contents over her hair. Two more repetitions and she was back to her old self, shiny and glowing.

  "Excellent start," he rubbed her fresh hair. "One squeaky clean slave girl on the way."

  He used the soap next, working a froth of it onto the loofa. "Hold still," he chided.

  "I can't help it," she arched her back. "This bondage makes me horny, Master."

  "Is this what you want?" He thrust the creamy sponge between her legs.

  Her eyes lit up, she clamped her thighs. "Oh, god."

  Rob pushed it in and out a few times, filling the aching vacuum. "Would you like to come?"

  "Master, yes, please..."

  "Too bad. You can't. Not yet." He bent down and licked her nipples one by one. He might as well have struck her with a whip.

  "Arggh..." she cried, contorting her body. He could see her slipping into some space of her own. Subspace, he'd read in the magazine. That zone where slaves and submissives find their deep, otherworldly peace in submission.

  He clamped down for a second on her nipple, regaining her attention. "Listen, closely, Miranda, so you know what to do."

  "Yesss...Master."

  "First, you'll open your mouth wide. For the sponge. Next you'll come on my hand. Hard. Like an animal. Got it?"

  "I do, Master, I do." She gaped her jaws to show him just how ready she was.

  Rob rinsed out the sponge thoroughly before squeezing it dry. He wanted no soap to make her sick. The sponge fit only part way. "Bite down," he ordered.

  She was watching him, with infinite expectation. He was her master and she was letting him know it. Now was the time to make her body give up its secrets for him.

  "Come," he ordered, settling his fingers in her pussy, the second knuckle of his pointing finger touching her swollen clitoris.

  Miranda humped herself against his hand. She was splashing his nude body with water. She was wetting the floor, too, but this was not the time to be concerned about messes. Miranda would be cleaning them all soon enough.

  Rob steadied her body with his free hand as the convulsions set in. He made sure she didn't hit her head or injure herself. "That's it," he coached. "Come for Master. Come like his little slave girl."

  She shook her head, moaning into the loofa. She was biting right through it. He kept her steady as she rocked into her climax, a multiple, one after the other, until neither of them could keep count.

  At last when she could take no more, he took his fingers away and pulled the sponge from her mouth. "Master," she lifted her head longingly.

  He seized her for a kiss, thorough and soul deep, his tongue plummeting. She yielded softly and perfectly, the ideal counterpoint to his predatory urges. He held her until she needed breath, then released her.

  His conquest of her poured forth from her swollen lips. "Master," she begged. "Take me..."

  Rob undid the rope from the towel rack, leaving her wrists secured. "You'll be had on the tile, like the slave you are," he declared.

  "Yes," she sighed. "On the floor, Master, where I belong."

  He laid her at his feet. She put her bound hands immediately over her head and arched her back, offering her breasts. Sliding one foot toward her chest, ankle to the back of her thigh, she touched her knee to the floor, gaping her pussy lips. "Do I please you, Master?"

  Rob stroked his aching cock. "Does this give you any idea?"

  "Please, Master," she licked her lips. "Put it in me. Use your little slave slut."

  "You will be a good lay," Rob ordered. "Or you will spend the night in the garage."

  "Yes, Master ... I'll be a good slut."

  "Ankles wide," he barked, towering over her.

  Miranda snapped open her legs, fully extended.

  Rob growled, falling on her. He shoved himself to the hilt in one thrust. The fit was easy. "That's it, yes," he sighed.

  "Am I good?" she asked as he began to pump her sex. "Am I good lay?"

  "I won't have to beat you for being frigid, if that's what you mean. Although a little more moaning wouldn't hurt. Feel free to lock your ankles behind my back, as well."

  "Yes, Master..." She obliged at once, pulling him deeper inside with her digging heels. "Oh ... oh, yes, oh, god, yes."

  He was lifting her with the friction of his fucking. Her ass was slapping the tile. Her wet hair was arrayed on the checkerboard tile. She was taking it on the floor, he kept telling himself, in utter degradation.

  And this was only day one. What would he accomplish with her in a week? A year?

  She was coming again. He gave up regulating her for the moment. He had his own orgasm to contend with. It had been building for far too long to hold back any longer. He swore a ton of come was shooting out of him, spurt after spurt.

  She was pushing her body up against him, crying, sobbing, begging and screaming for more. He called out her name and she called out his.

  Rob. Master. Lover. Baby. Everything she could think of until they had both soared to the very heavens themselves, clear, pale blue sky, intoxicating to breathe and kissed by the bright rays of the newborn sun.

  "I think I will let you call me Rob sometimes," he decided afterward, lying side by side with her, the rope undone from her wrists. "I like the sound of it on your lips."

  "Yes, Master," she kissed his chest adoringly. "I love you..."

  "I love you, too," he pulled her close, rolling onto his back so she could lay her head on his stomach. "More than anything."

  "Master?" She purred. "Will you collar me now?"

  "What's the rush?" He tousled her hair. "Still think I'm going to trade you in."

  "I just need the feel of it on me, Master. I need to feel owned."

  "Very well, you may fetch it. On your hands and knees."

  Miranda offered a reasonable question, but no argument. "How shall I carry it, Master?"

  "Hold the chain in your teeth. The leather mustn't touch the floor."

  "Yes, Master." Miranda lifted herself off him, her limbs a bit shaky. She managed the crawling just fine, though. Rob sat up, Indian style, so he could watch her wiggling naked ass. Sex fluids were dripping from her cunt lips, hers and his both.

  He made a mental note to add a few more welts to her behind, to fi
ll out the small number she was sporting so far.

  Rob heard her rummaging in the suitcase. Trying to grab the collar with her teeth. At last she appeared in the doorway, shuffling on knees and palms, the chain obediently in her mouth, the collar hanging midway to the floor.

  She hesitated, looking for direction.

  Rob snapped his fingers, addressing her as the lovely pet she was. "Here, girl."

  Miranda approached; the smell of her fresh arousal thick in the air. There was no questioning her sexual need for submission.

  He took it from between her teeth. "Good girl," he patted her head.

  She made a small whimpering sound, as if afraid to spoil the moment with human speech.

  "Chin up."

  She thrust her nose into the air. Rob took the opportunity to play with her hanging breasts. Miranda tried to keep her composure, as best a woman could, naked on all fours before her lascivious owner.

  The orbs felt good in his hands, solid. He would enjoy whipping them one day, as he would the rest of her fair body.

  Miranda held herself very still as he circled her throat in the leather. The sound of the clasping was deafening, an unmistakable and powerful symbol of Miranda's new status.

  "We'll get some steel collars for you," he said. "And some more fashionable ones like chokers that you can wear outside."

  Miranda looked at him, trance-like. Her passivity only encouraged his domination, whether she knew it or not. Wrapping the loose end of the leash around his fist a few times, he yanked on the collar, landing her face down in his lap.

  She made a small gurgling sound as he pushed his resurrected erection into her mouth. Giving no quarter, he pushed her head down all the way. She managed to accommodate, just in time to be lifted up by the scruff of her neck.

  He used her just as he saw fit, directing her speed and suction with the leash. When she went too slow or failed to please him sufficiently, he gave her a slight choke pull or else jerked her upright and slapped her breasts.

  She winced each time, though he could see how much her nipples were craving the attention. She had him all worked up and ready to come in her greedy, slurping mouth and this time, he decided to oblige.

  Miranda drank his come like it was the antidote to a poison she'd taken. Her little mouth suctioned him like a vacuum until every drop was drained dry.