Continuing the story from Monday.

By the time we’d got to her place I had my hand down the back of her skirt and inside her panties, feeling the muscles in her arse move while she walked. The muscles ball, then roll and stretch. It’s very rewarding, in a tactile sense. 

By the way, I used the word “panties” in that sentence, I guess you noticed. I used to not like the word “panties”, but now I do, precisely because of its unpopularity and lack of dignity. People who think they’re probably about to fuck aren’t always interested in their dignity. As a main concern, anyway.

She thought me putting my hand on her bare ass was a bit of a liberty, but on the other hand (oh, stop it), it showed my interest and intensions in very certain terms, and that gave her something to play off. Also, I knew by then that she wanted me to do something that she hadn’t consented to. She’d communicated that to me, which is a kind of consent anyway, but these things can get complicated. Often we deliberately complicate it so that we don’t have to admit how much of what happens to a submissive is at his or her will. Still, she hadn’t consented to that, specifically, so I did it. Anyway, that was how we were till we got to her front door. 

She turned to do the door. I grabbed her and kissed her. So we were ripping each other’s clothes off in the front doorway. Then she got the door open, and we fucked, for the first time, on her carpet. Later, in her bedroom, she showed me a broken riding crop. She said her last Master (he’d moved overseas) had broken that on her arse, and it had been a wonderful, beautifully sexual moment. 

I was mildly intimidated by that. I’ve never broken a riding crop on anyone. I’m pretty sure I never will. I thought about the force you’d need to use, and shook my head. Out of my range.

Still, I said I was going to whip her arse with my belt and then fuck her arse, so she’d have a hot, welted arse and my come in her ass to remind her of me when I left. 

She liked that plan and rolled over onto her front. I lashed her with my belt while she squirmed. Eventually it reached her, and she half turned and looked up at me, beseeching with big sad eyes, as if I was a monster to hurt a poor girl like that. So I put my hand on the small of her back, pushed her back down and continued.

I was demonstrating fitness to be her Dom. She’d told me she liked strict discipline, so I was enjoying myself but also making sure I got invited back to be naked with her again. Then I lubed her ass, and fucked her anally.  

Some time during that roaring, grunting fuck she stopped calling me Sir and switched to Master. I hadn’t asked for that but it seemed heart-felt. I accepted the gift, which is huge; the gift of herself, all of her, is the greatest gift one human can give another, and in a way only Doms get to experience that. So I was more moved than I pretended, but I called her slavegirl, and that was well.

Though she wasn’t really a slave; she was a stroppy lawyer, and even her Master didn’t really own her. But it meant we were in a relationship. The usual rules for a Master and a woman-who-has-a-Master applied. 

Which meant, for example, that she could wake me up at two in the morning, and demand to be fucked again.

To be continued on Monday 13!