Wicked Wednesday: Does it matter what you want?

Jennifer had just left, walking, it seemed, with her feet about six inches above the floor. Maddie looked at me, expecting orders. Expecting use. 

“All right, Maddie. Bend over, little one.” 

“Yes, Master!” Maddie was enthusiastic, and expecting pain. She liked discipline. She complied, legs apart, ass arched a little up so she was accessible, head down on the table, hands dropped, as if helplessly, over the desk’s further edge. It was too sweet an invitation to insist, so I smacked her hard, twice, getting a low murmur of appreciation, and anticipation.

But I opened the desk draw and took out her glass butt-plug. It belonged to me, and strictly speaking Maddie was property herself, and had no possessions, but that butt plug was reserved exclusively for her. It seemed I’d soon have to buy another, for Jennifer.

I spanked her again, then lubed the plug properly, slid two fingers into her anus and parted them a little, so I could pour some of the lube into that tight passage and let my fingers spread it inside her. Maddie, who wasn’t aware of the plug’s presence, said, “Oh, Master, I love it when you fuck my ass,”

But I smacked her twice more, hard. “Does what you want matter?”

 Her hair shook, frantically. That was a hot thought. “No, Master, not a bit.” 

“Then shut up. I’ll deal with that in a moment.”

I slid the plug into her, getting a little groan when her anal ring stretched around the plug’s thickest part , and a grunt, both relief from pain and another kind of satisfaction, when it it rested, the pink glass jewell pointing at me. She breathed hard for several puffs while she got used to her new occupant. 

“Now get up on the table. Heels on the edge of the desk. Now lean back. Don’t let your ass touch the bed till I say. Hands on the desk, holding yourself up.”

Maddie grunted, and complied. It was, in seemed, hard on the stomach muscles. But I said, “I don’t want to hear from you about what you want, girl.”

I smacked the under slope of her left breast, then the right. Then I smacked her face, left, then right. Maddie only looked at me, desperation in her eyes, wondering what I intended. I tried not to smile at her, but I couldn’t help it, though it reduced the tension. But she was such a good girl.

I took a handful of her hair. “When I’m giving you orders, do I need commentary from you?”

Then was a brief silence. I guessed that she wanted to beg to be punished, but she wasn’t sure if that would count as “commentary”.

She said, “No, Master. Sorry, Master.”

 “Right. Push your cunt forward, so it’s right between your ankles. Knees as far apart as they’ll go. If you your ass so much as touches the table without my permission, it’ll be a very sorry ass. Understood?”

“Master!” She meant she understood what I was telling her to do. Obeying that instruction was hard, but she managed. I tore my shirt off and dropped my pants. There were a few seconds for the condom, and then I touched her, the head of my cock touching the soft and sweetly wet folds on her cunt. Maddie made a sound that was like a sob, but wasn’t one. It was relief.

I said, “Push, little one,” and we moved together. The softness of cunt, it occurred to me, needs the hardness of cock, at least in certain moods, and her need for the harshness of my manner was something similar. It answered a need in her.

At last, because I knew she couldn’t manage much longer, I said, “You can let your ass touch the table now.”

“Oohh.” That was a relief. A few seconds later Maddie looked up, always amazed at something she found in me in these moments. Well, she amazed me. She said, “Ma- Master, please may I come?”


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