Deep Submission

Sarah was on her knees, sucking Master's cock in the way she knew he liked - slow and gentle, teasing, caressing with tongue and lips. Occasionally she would withdraw his stiff dick from her mouth and stroke it gently with her long, slender fingers; another thing he liked was having his frenulum tickled by Sarah's long, manicured nails. She massaged and sucked his balls frequently, too; she had earned enough slaps and sharp reprimands to know that he expected his balls not to be neglected when she serviced him orally.

They were in the sumptuous living room of one of his penthouse apartments, one of two Master owned, along with his two country estates and three beach houses. Sarah didn't like coming here. The floors were entirely hardwood, and when she slept, she usually slept poorly, waking up with an aching back and neck. Master required her to sleep on the floor whenever they spent the night together, always at the foot of his bed. Of course, he allowed her to have pillows and blankets, but the fact that she didn't like sleeping on the hard floor of this apartment was something Master simply expected her to deal with, silently, without complaint. And she did - now, at least. Earlier in their relationship, before she had fully learned submission, she had made the mistake of asking him if she could please sleep on his bed, or at least on a sofa, when they stayed in that particular penthouse suite. This request had resulted in three straight nights sleeping on the hard floor with no comforts whatsoever - just her, naked (as he expected her to be whenever they were in private), on the unyielding oak boards. Sarah was young, twenty-seven to be exact, and her body was capable of absorbing a lot of misuse, but nonetheless she had ached for days afterward. She never questioned the sleeping arrangements again.

"Mmmmmm..." she heard him moan softly. With his cock deep in her mouth, she risked a glance up at his face. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, but she knew he was savoring the blowjob - oral sex was something Master never tired of. She slid his shaft deeper into her mouth, until his pulsing cock head touched the back of her throat. Her lips were closed tightly around the base of his shaft, her nose almost touching his abdomen. As she deep-throated him, she gently caressed his balls in both hands.

"Ooohhhhh, fuck..." he whispered. He laid one hand on top of her head. He had large hands, and she took pleasure in having his strong hand on her head while she knelt before him and worshipped his cock and balls. It was a very dominant gesture on his part, and that was why he did it. He was not harsh with his hands, but neither was he especially gentle. Very firm, bordering on rough, was how Sarah thought of it. There was no question of trying to move her head away from his crotch, even if she'd wanted to. He held her close, and she knew what the consequences would be if she should try to stop the blowjob. A sharp pull on her hair at the very least, probably a slap across one cheek and a stern command as well. The thought of his discipline made her pussy damp, as it always did.

Her tongue bathed the length of his shaft, stroking it from the head all the way to the root, while it was still buried deep in her throat. She began to moan herself, partly from pure pleasure and partly to create the delicious vibrations in Master's cock that she knew he loved. Another furtive glance at his face confirmed it: a slight smile had creased his mouth, although his eyes were still closed.

His cock began to throb urgently in Sarah's mouth, and she took her cue to start sucking and jacking his dick with greater speed and friction. No more teasing now; Master expected her to bring him to orgasm, and she was very skilled at knowing when to stop being gentle and start pushing his body toward ecstasy quickly. She felt his balls tighten in her palm as her other hand stroked the root of his cock fast and hard, and her mouth worked the sensitive head.

"Ahhhh, fuck!!" he bellowed abruptly, throwing his head back and arching his hips into Sarah's face. His cock pushed deep into her throat, and she had no choice but to accept it, and clamp down on her gag reflex. When he throat-fucked her it was harder to restrain that reflex than when she was deep-throating his motionless cock. But she managed to open her throat to his bulging head, taking it passively, and in another moment his cock spasmed, and suddenly it seemed her entire mouth was filled with his cum, hot and slightly salty. She closed her eyes, receiving his sperm, her hands massaging his balls to make sure she got every drop.

When his orgasm had passed, he withdrew his softening cock from her mouth, and looked down at her expectantly. Sarah knew what he was waiting for. She savored his cum for a moment, then swallowed the load and opened her mouth wide to show him.

"Good girl," he said, satisfied. Then he waited while she rose and retrieved some wet wipes from the bathroom, and watched while she knelt again cleaned his cock and balls. Only after she had washed him to his satisfaction was she allowed to see to herself, wiping dribbles and streaks of his cum from her chin and lips.

She disposed of the used wipes in the bathroom, and when she returned to the living room Master had buttoned his jeans and refastened his belt, and was sitting on a small loveseat.

"Come," he said, gesturing to the floor at his feet. Sarah walked to him and knelt at the spot he had indicated, assuming the position he expected of her: head bowed, hands folded in front of her. She wouldn't have dared sit next to him, even thought there was plenty of room. It was a rare reward to be allowed to sit with him, and it was reserved for special occasions, such as the time she had cleaned and scrubbed the entire interior of one of his beach houses because he had told her he was having a client there for the weekend. That time, he had permitted Sarah to sit at the dinner table with him and the client, who had turned out to be a stunning blonde in her mid-forties, about the same age as Master. She had not been at all surprised when, later that evening, she had heard the two of them fucking in the next room while she lay in front of the fireplace reading a book.

Master often fucked other women, but this didn't bother Sarah. She knew she was the only one with whom he shared the special bond of dom and sub. The other women were a momentary pleasure for him; Sarah was a long-term commitment. Thinking about this always made her feel warm inside, somehow, and safe. She knew that Master would look after her, and protect her, and correct her when she needed it, and train her beautifully to be a well-groomed sub. He had always been so good at bringing out Sarah's submissive nature, even early in their relationship, when acknowledging her need to be controlled had made her quite uncomfortable, even angry, and when she had still fought against his inexorable drawing out of who she truly was. He had known her mind better than she herself had, and that was still true. The notion that Master, her firm, strong, confident Master, knew what she needed and when she needed it better than she did was central to their relationship, and was something that she had come to cherish.

Sarah knelt before him now, head down, looking at her folded hands with their flawlessly manicured nails (he was very strict in his expectations about her appearance), waiting for him to speak first. It seemed a long time before he did. When he finally addressed her, she kept her head bowed, knowing she was not permitted to meet his eyes until he told her she could. His voice, calm and resonant and measured, sent a shiver of pleasure through her, and she felt her pussy moisten and her clit become hard.

"You gave a...satisfactory blowjob, Sarah." This was the custom after each of their sexual encounters, and was part of her ongoing sub training - a critique of her performance.

She flushed with pleasure at his words. Coming from him, it was high praise. He did not give compliments often.

"Master, may I speak?" she said quietly, eyes still downcast.

"You may."

"Thank you, Master. I'm happy that you found my work acceptable."

"You should be." He crossed his legs, and clasped his hands across one knee. "There are several things that still need to be improved, though."

This neither surprised nor disappointed her. Master was very exacting and had high expectations, and Sarah had learned that, with the proper attitude, she could accept his criticisms as he intended them: opportunities for improvement. A sense of gratitude came over her as she listened to his wonderful voice describe in detail the ways in which he expected her to improve her oral sex skills.

When he had finished, and had made her recite everything back to him from memory, she gathered her courage and asked:

"Master, may I have permission to look at you?"

He was silent a moment, and Sarah was afraid she had asked for too much.

"Why do you want this?"

"Because...well, Master, because I want you to see my eyes, and see how thankful I am that you have given me the opportunity to please you and learn from you."

She blushed, realizing how silly it all sounded, when she said it out loud.

But he replied, "You may look at me, Sarah."

She raised her eyes to his. His eyes hypnotized her; they were a deep brown, and very steady, only blinking very occasionally. In them, she could see all of the traits that made submission to him so pleasurable for her: strength, intelligence, sternness, unwavering commitment, and confidence. Also there was a measure of warmth, but of a kind Sarah had never encountered in men before meeting Master. It was warmth that expressed itself indirectly, through discipline and punishment. She would have considered that a paradox before getting to know Master, but in him she discovered it didn't have to be. And that, she felt, was the essence of why she craved his dominance. He could deliver strict, even harsh, discipline and compassion in the same package. He could spank her or give her a breast flogging or apply cruel nipple clamps, and make her feel well cared-for while he did it.

"Thank you so much, Master," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his. "Thank you for allowing me to suck you, and give you pleasure, and for your guidance on how I can become better at serving you orally."

He listened to her with a thoughtful expression. He let her finish, and didn't speak. Sarah was not permitted to drop her eyes away from his until he looked away first, so she remained looking up at his ruggedly handsome face from her kneeling position at his feet while he took his time considering her words, keeping her eyes locked on his. She could rarely guess at what he was thinking, and that was true now. His pondering expression betrayed nothing.

After what seemed like an eon, he spoke. "Sarah, would you enjoy getting fucked by me?"

Her eyes widened and she gasped involuntarily. Master had never fucked her, and she had long since decided he probably never would. The gorgeous women he brought home, she assumed, satisfied his need to fuck. She was occasionally allowed to masturbate, which she thoroughly enjoyed, especially since he always required that she do it in front of him (and sometimes in front of his female guests). But this...she could hardly believe what she had heard.

Sarah was so stunned that she didn't answer for several seconds, which earned her a slap across one cheek with one of his big hands. She cried out in pain and shame.

"Answer my question, whore," he said sternly, using one of the names for her that he always employed when he was administering discipline. "Would you enjoy getting fucked by me?"

Sarah nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Master, yes, I would love to get fucked by you."

He nodded, and looked away from her, out one of the living room's big windows at a purple and red sunset that was beginning to spread across the sky. Sarah, knowing this was her cue, immediately looked back down at her hands.

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you," he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. "Having my cock in your pussy and ass would be an experience you would never forget."

Sarah remained silent. The thought of Master's beautiful cock, with its large head and thick veins, entering her body made her head swim a little, and her pussy juices began to flow freely. It was all she could do to remain still, and not try to give her poor, aching, horny pussy a little relief by squirming her thighs together. The thought of using her hands was out of the question. She never masturbated without permission, and she was not allowed to ask. She had to wait until he decided to allow it on his own initiative. It was part of her training in self-denial. It could be sheer torture, for just hearing his voice made her wet, and things like sucking his cock or giving him a rimjob made her cunt burn with need.

But she managed, through sheer willpower, to stay still with hands folded properly, eyes down, until he spoke again.

"You may go to bed now, Sarah," he said, motioning to the bedroom.

Confused, she rose and walked toward the open bedroom door. Why had he asked her about fucking? She couldn't think straight; God, her pussy needed attention. It was driving her mad. Sucking his cock and balls, then thinking about that same gorgeous cock driving into her pussy and asshole, made her want to scream with frustration. Juices ran down the inside of her legs.

Without even being fully aware she was doing it, Sarah suddenly turned and faced him, and blurted out, "Are you really going to fuck me, Master?"

Immediately, she knew she was going to regret what she'd just done. She had spoken and looked him in the face without permission, and she had tried to prompt information from him.

His face darkened, and he stood up.

"Stand there, Sarah. Don't move."

Her breath caught in her throat and she became a statue, standing a few steps away from the bedroom door, nude, turned and facing the loveseat. She knew better than to speak again and apologize for her transgressions.

Master walked slowly toward a small cabinet made of polished maple standing in the corner of the living room. He opened it, and took out a black leather riding crop and a pair of nipple clamps. He brought them to Sarah.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, Master," she replied in a whisper, staring at her feet. Her breasts suddenly felt very vulnerable, and her nipples tightened at the sight of the clamps.

Lightning fast, he smacked her ass with the crop. She gasped with pain and surprise. "Louder," he said.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"What was it?"

"First, I spoke without your permission. Second, I looked you in the face, again without your permission. And third, I requested an explanation of something you said, without first asking if I deserved an explanation."

"Very good, whore." He stepped closer, and dropped the riding crop on the floor. "Hands behind your head. Tits out."

Obediently, Sarah laced her hands behind her head and pushed her breasts forward as far as she could. They were not large, but were firm and round, and her nipples were exceptionally long and very sensitive.

Master proceeded to apply the clamps, first to Sarah's left nipple then her right. Although he did not tighten them a great deal, they still made her moan with pain, and her eyes began to water. In spite of this, she knew what she needed to do.

"Master, may I speak?" she said, as clearly as she could.

"You may."

"Master, thank you for using the clamps on my nipples. The pain reminds me that you are my Master, and that I must obey you."

"Hmmm." He reached out and tugged at one of the clamps. Sarah gritted her teeth and suppressed a shriek of pain. She knew he was testing her. He tugged the other clamp, then the first again. Tears began to stream down her face, but she managed to stay silent. Master smiled.

"Very good, slut."

He bent down and retrieved the riding crop. Sarah groaned inwardly - she had already forgotten about it!

Master stroked the end of the crop gently across her forehead, down one cheek, and patted her lips with it.

"You didn't forget about this part of your punishment, did you, Sarah?" he asked. As always, she found it comforting that he seemed to know what she was thinking.

"May I speak, Master?"

"You may."

"I did forget about the crop, Master. The pain from my nipple clamps distracted me."

He nodded. "I thought so. Open your mouth."

She parted her lips, and he slipped the end of the crop into her mouth.

"Get it wet."

Sarah sucked and licked at the wide leather loop on the end of the crop, as enthusiastically as if it had been Master's cock.

"Good." He withdrew the crop from her mouth, leaving her with the taste of leather on her tongue.

He stroked the ends of her clamped nipples for a moment with the wet crop, making her gasp with mingled pain and pleasure. Then, he abruptly smacked her left breast, hard. He followed this almost immediately with a harder smack to her right breast.

This time Sarah couldn't help but cry out in pain. The burning nipple clamps combined with the shock of the stiff leather against her sensitive breasts was overwhelming. Her cry earned her a third quick, hard swat with the crop, this time across her face.

"Quiet, whore. Take the discipline silently."

Sarah braced herself mentally for the ordeal. Smack, smack, smack, smack...over and over the crop struck her poor, stinging breasts, always alternating between left and right, with an occasionally glancing blow across the nipple clamps. It seemed to last forever, but somehow Sarah was able to keep silent throughout the session.

By the time Master finally relented, and dropped the riding crop to the floor, her face was red with tears and her jaws were clenched as tightly as a vise. Her breasts were covered with red welts, and the flesh felt hot. Her nipples had gone numb at some point, which reminded her that the worst part of the punishment was yet to come.

"Are you ready to have your clamps taken off, slave?" he asked.

"May I speak, Master?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't matter whether or not I'm ready, Master. I have learned that you will do as you please, when you please."

"Good answer."

With that, he unclamped her nipples with two swift motions.

The pain was nearly unbearable. The flow of blood returning to the crushed flesh made the nerve endings there scream as if red-hot needles had pierced them.

Master saw her tortured expression. "Yes, it hurts. You know this is part of your punishment. Take it like you've been taught."

Sarah managed to nod, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, hands knotted together in a sweaty tangle behind her head. She didn't utter a sound. After an eternity, the pain subsided into a dull ache that she knew from prior experience would last several hours.

"You may go to sleep now." His voice, stern as always, was tinged with compassion. "You accepted your discipline reasonably well."

Sarah unclasped her hands and stepped into the bedroom, and lay down gratefully on the floor, her pillow under her head. She drew a blanket over her naked body. The floor didn't bother her, not now, not after the experience of being disciplined with the crop and clamps. After a few minutes, even her aching nipples couldn't prevent sleep from coming over her.

--

The next morning, she awoke before dawn, her body having learned to do so automatically, since Master expected her to be up, showered, and have breakfast prepared before he emerged from the bedroom. She accomplished these tasks efficiently, the breakfast taking the longest, as it always did. It was a sumptuous four-course meal with fruit, meats, cheeses, coffee, and freshly squeezed orange juice.