Wicked Wednesday: You may not come!

I’d told Jennifer, bent naked over my desk, to brace herself. This is always credible advice when it comes from a man with a slipper in his hand. Jennifer shivered a little, thinking I’d meant I was about to start her slippering. 

But I put my palm and finger under her pussy, and ran my thumb down between her soft, inviting folds. She jerked in surprise, and then relaxed. I put my thumb into her, feeling the spongy skin as I pressed down, moving my thumb slowly into and a little way out of her, while pressing my palm against her clitoris.

Jennifer sighed with pleasure, and then her body started to echo the movements of my thumb and palm. Her breath quickened. I admired the rise and fall of her bottom, which blushed a bright crimson from the six slipper smacks I’d already given her. But at almost the last second, when she was on the edge of orgasm, I pulled out, smacked that bottom, and said, “But don’t you dare come, girl!”

“Ahhh, sir!” She made a howl of protest, and in another mood I’d have given her extra strokes for that. 

But I ignored her. I drew her knee a little further towards me, and applied the first stroke to her inner thigh, about eight inches from her pussy. Jennifer shrieked, “Owwwwww!”

Since she could no longer kick, her body rocked from side to side on the table. I brought the slipper down again, a little harder and three inches closer to her pussy. Jennifer howled and writhed, though it was less dramatic than her response to her first six. She was getting tired, and she was transmuting at least part of the pain into pleasure. I delivered the third stroke on the plumpest part of her thigh. She yowled and then sobbed, crying like a baby.

As I crossed to her right side, Maddie said, “We have tears, Master.” I couldn’t see her face but I knew that was true, from the quality of her sobbing. I took Jennifer’s right knee, and held it firmly while I delivered the same sequence of three strokes to her right inner thigh.

Maddie still sobbed and wailed, but her body movements were calmer. Her bottom rose and fell as if her pussy was riding the air, riding something that should have been there but wasn’t. Despite her pain I knew that if I touched her she would come within about thirty seconds.

More importantly, I was now certain that she’d be able to come instantly, without my touching her, if I commanded her to.

I rested the slipper on the small of her back. “If you beg for permission to come, Jennifer, I’ll give you two dozen extra strokes. Is that understood?”

Her voice was very quiet. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re learning discipline and obedience. From now on, you come only when I give you permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That includes at home, in your own bed.”

“Sir! I mean, yes, sir.” 

I smiled, not that she could see me. “I know you’re a good girl, Jennifer. This is part of showing me how good you can be.”

She sighed, resigned. I’m not sure if she understood, yet, quite how much power she had just ceded.

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