Verge

He waited a long moment before saying anything. She could not bring herself to look up at him.

"Well. What has my stupid, disobedient slave been thinking about while I've been gone?" His voice was somehow even colder than usual.

"She's been thinking about how bad she was just like you told her to," she answered, the guilt in her voice mixed with just a hint of excitement. "I'm so sorry, sir! You know I hate displeasing you more than anything, you were just turning me on so much that I wasn't thinking clearly."

"I see," he said, not sounding as if he was buying her excuse. Not that she expected him to--no matter how much she tried to explain away her transgressions, punishment was the only thing that ever led to his forgiveness.

Her heart was beating even faster. What was he going to do? Spank her like he'd suggested earlier? Make her suck him off to make her even more desperate to cum? The particularly cruel toys he used on her for punishments sometimes were at home, so she knew a session with the whip or the crop was not in store for her today, a fact which made her both relieved and disappointed.

She was so busy trying to figure out what he had in mind that the sudden feeling of him yanking hard on a fistful of her hair was quite startling. Knowing exactly what he meant by that silent order, she rose to her feet as quickly as she could. The combination of the pain and forcefulness made her even more turned on than she already was, and she couldn't stop mentally yelling at herself for being so stupid earlier. In addition to whatever he was going to do now, it was surely going to be quite some time before her poor neglected pussy got any more attention at all.

He held his hand towards a large chair against the opposite wall.

"Have a seat."

She walked towards the chair slowly, feeling even more confused now. So, not a spanking. Then, what?

He approached her after she'd sat down.

"Is my dirty little slut still desperate to cum?" he asked.

Another one of those goddamn questions he didn't need her to respond to to know the answer, a fact that was made even more obvious this time by the way he'd referred to her. How could a "dirty little slut" not be desperate to cum? Still, refusing to answer any question posed to her was another thing guaranteed to get her into trouble, so she went along with it.

"Yes sir. Of course."

"Nice and wet for me?"

"Yes sir," she replied, sure the very act of admitting it to him was just making her wetter.

"How would it make you feel if I rubbed your wet, desperate pussy?"

"So so so so good, sir." Was this going to be her punishment? Him just making her more and more aware of how badly her pussy was aching to be touched?

"Well then."

And then suddenly his fingers were on her. The combination of how good it felt and her surprise made her moan even louder than usual.

"Like that?" he asked, rubbing her clit in exactly the right way.

"Oh god yes sir, oh fuck." She had no idea how this qualified as a punishment, but she was too lost in the waves of pleasure to think about it very hard.

"Spread your legs wider. Put them over the legs of the chair. Your Master wants your cunt fully on display for him."

She did, feeling even more turned on as she did so. The idea that this was really for him, that she was nothing but an object that could be on display for him if that was what he wanted, felt even better than his fingers did.

But oh god those fingers, those long thin fingers. She couldn't believe how good he was at this, considering she could count the times he'd done it before on one hand. It had been surprising enough when he'd fingered her for just an instant earlier, but now he wasn't stopping. What the hell was going on?

"You're even wetter than I expected," he said. He said it in an entirely detached way, as if he were a scientist observing how arousal presented itself in the human female. Well, she was perfectly happy to be his experiment if it meant he was going to keep those long fingers on her.

"Yes sir. I've just been getting more and more turned on by everything that's happened all night," she answered, her words interrupted by increasingly loud moans.

"Is that so? Even when I was hurting you earlier?"

"That was one of the things that turned me on most of all! It made me feel so much like yours, that you kept fucking me so hard even after I asked you to stop just because it gave you pleasure."

"It's always nice to know that my slave is getting a reminder of her place," he said. His voice was still cold, but she could detect a bit of an indication that he really was pleased by this in there too.

She was so close to the edge already that it only took a few minutes of his fingers on her to get her to the brink.

"I'm about to cum, sir!" Oh god he had to be planning to let her, didn't he? It had been so long...but...

He immediately withdrew his fingers. Godfuckingdammit. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she couldn't deny that she was disappointed, hoping somehow he would have been merciful.

So that was her punishment, then--being brought just to the edge of her first orgasm in a year and then denied. Well, considering that she barely even remembered what an orgasm was after somehow surviving that length of time, it didn't really seem like the harshest punishment he could have devised. She sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that though. She was secretly hoping that he would be convinced it was a good punishment and use it again in the future.

A couple of minutes passed. Since he hadn't told her she could close her legs, she still had them fully spread and over the arms of the chair. On display. On display for my owner, her inner voice kept repeating. He was just standing there silently surveying her. All she could think about in that moment was how completely she felt like his property and nothing more, and she knew that was exactly what he was thinking too. The fact sent more jolts of electricity to her pussy, even without his fingers on it anymore.

And then suddenly they were again. Oh fuck.

"I of course expect you to inform me when you're about to cum again this time, slave," he said. "But make sure it's only just before you do."

She realized now that this was actually her punishment--he was going to make her edge for who the hell knows how long. She felt so stupid now for not having figured it out earlier, but it was not exactly easy to think straight when he was fingering her. She could barely remember her own name when he was fingering her.

Back in those dark, lonely days before he'd claimed her as his own, when she actually could freely finger herself (such an alien concept now), she had experimented with edging just a bit because she'd heard it could make orgasms more intense. But she'd never been able to handle doing it more than two times in a row. She somehow had the feeling that he was planning to do it longer than that, and she had no doubt that she would not be getting to cum whenever he did decide to stop.

Even if she didn't know from her previous experiences that edging made the subsequent feelings of pleasure more intense, she would sure as hell know now. He'd only been fingering her again for a minute and already it was damn obvious.

"Still feeling good?" he asked.

"So, so good, sir," she said. Too good, she wanted to add.

He was alternating between using his middle finger to rub her clit and working three fingers in and out of her opening. It was slightly easier to bear when he wasn't touching her clit, but he never stayed away from it for long enough.

She closed her eyes, hoping not seeing his gorgeous form before her would reduce the overwhelming pleasure a bit. But it was only a moment after she did before he spoke.

"Keep looking at me," he said. "I want to make sure you remember exactly who's being kind enough to let you feel so good right now."

She had to work to restrain herself from giving a sarcastic reply to this. He was being kind? When every second he fingered her made her more and more desperate for the orgasm that she knew wasn't going to come? This was going to make her lose her goddamn mind in no time at all and he fucking knew it. That was the entire reason he was even doing it. Still, she knew it would not serve her well to get in even more trouble, so she held her tongue and opened her eyes.

Looking at him made it worse just as she'd feared, and she knew he was aware of that too. Having to focus on his thin frame, his oversized brown eyes framed by his glasses, having to be fully aware of the fact that, yes, he was the most gorgeous man ever to walk the face of the earth and he was her very own Master, made this whole thing even harder to take.

"You're still getting even wetter for me," he said, speaking again in that detached tone that suggested she was nothing more than a scientific experiment he was observing. The unemotional manner that was almost always how he dealt with her made her love him so much more. There was something exciting about those rare moments when he didn't act that way, like when he'd clearly been angry at her earlier, but she liked this so much better. Having him be so distant, so cold, made him feel elevated a million miles above her and made her all the more desperate to please him.

"You're just making me feel so good, sir," she said.

"I know." Of course he did.

It was not long before she was close to the edge again. She waited until she was just about to fall over it as he'd ordered her to, and she knew that, no matter how much she wanted that beautiful fall, she needed to be good and obey him.

"I'm about to cum, sir."

Once again he immediately removed his fingers, and once again she was left gasping for breath and aching with need. But this time was so much worse than the first time, because now she knew that, not only was he not planning to give her any relief, he also wasn't planning to stop making her crave it more and more.

When he could see that she'd recovered enough to not be in immediate danger of cumming anymore, his fingers were on her again. Every moment he touched her the pleasure got more and more intense, more and more unbearable.

"How does it feel now?" he asked.

"It keeps feeling better the longer you do it, sir."

"Well, this is what you wanted, isn't it? To have your pussy touched, to have as much pleasure as you could get?"

"Yes sir." She had to admit he was doing a good job making the punishment fit the crime, as they say.

"You're being very loud right now. There are people still here working, you know. What if they hear you and know what a dirty slut you are? What if someone comes in here and sees you like this, your legs spread so wide that anyone who wants to can see your soaking-wet pussy?"

"Oh god sir, that would make me feel so much better." He did sometimes like to humiliate her that way, and it always stirred up an intense, heady mixture of shame and arousal in her. She knew he was right about how much noise she was making--she was loud to begin with, and the ever-increasing intensity of the pleasure this time was making her even more so. She both hoped and feared that someone could hear her.

"They wouldn't just know you're a slut," he continued. "They'd know that you're my slut. I'd be sure to explain to everyone that you are my property and that you are only permitted to receive pleasure when I decide you deserve it. I'd be sure to explain to them that absolutely everything about you is completely under my control."

"Yes sir! I want everyone to know! Oh god sir I'm about to cum!" How much what he was saying excited her was enough to get her immediately back to that point.

His fingers were gone again. Even though she expected it now, it still brought an almost physical pain. The pleasure without release was torture, and still somehow her brain held on to a false hope that he would let her cum after all and was overwhelmed with disappointment when he didn't.

She was still breathing hard, too close to the edge for him to safely start fingering her again, when he spoke.

"Play with your tits."

She started stroking them as gently as she could, knowing any more intense form of stimulation would just make her even more desperate to cum. But she should've known better than to expect that he was actually going to let her get away with that, and in a moment he spoke again.

"You'll have to do better than that. Dig your nails into them. Hard."

Goddammit. Of course he was going to make her do that. That particular variety of pain felt very good to her, and under normal circumstances she would have welcomed it, but right now anything that pushed her further into her urgent state was the last thing she wanted.

Still, what choice did she have but to obey him? So she dug her nails into the tender flesh as deeply as she could without drawing blood, crying out at the mixture of pain and pleasure. Her pussy throbbed, somehow wanting his fingers again even though that was just going to make everything worse.

He hadn't given her permission to stop so she did it again. And again. The pleasure wasn't intense enough to bring her back to the edge of orgasm, but it was certainly enough to cause her to lose her mind even more than she already had been.

"That's enough."

She stopped, relieved. She wasn't used to having that much pain on her tits all at once and it was getting overwhelming, especially with the state she was in.

He examined her tits. He looked pleased.

"Those nice deep red marks look very good on you, slave."

"Thank you sir." And then she knew that the pain and the maddening pleasure had been worth enduring just because she'd pleased him.

Still, feeling so good about pleasing him didn't mean it wasn't extremely difficult to bear when his fingers were on her pussy again just a moment later. She kept thinking that the intensity of the pleasure had to top off somewhere, but every time he made her edge it was even worse when he started again.

"You're making me lose my mind, sir," she told him. She hoped he wouldn't consider this questioning him, which was of course the whole reason she'd gotten in trouble in the first place. She just wanted him to know, and she supposed there was some tiny, foolish part of her that hoped if he knew how hard this was for her he would show some mercy and stop (or even, god forbid, actually let her cum).

"Good."

Fuck, just that single word felt so much better than getting either of the things she'd hoped for. It had felt so good to hear him say the marks on her tits had pleased him, but this felt even better. She knew now that no matter how long he decided to torture her this way she'd be able to take it just because it was what he wanted.

"Thank you sir! I'm so happy to be having the chance to be good for you!"

"Is that so? Would you let me do anything I wanted to you just because it pleased me?"

"Yes sir! Of course!" Telling him this, telling him how complete her submission to him was, was making the pleasure even more intense, but it was easier to handle now. She still wanted desperately to cum, but she knew that getting the chance to please him felt so much better than it possibly would have.

"What if I decided to let you cum right now? How would you like that?"

"It would make me feel so incredibly good sir, I've been so close all this time and my pussy is just aching for it. But I would rather not cum if that was what pleased you more. I know that pleasing you is much more important than any pleasure I could possibly get."

And then suddenly his hand was gone.

"I see that you've learned your lesson, then," he said. He held his fingers up to her mouth and she licked them clean. She loved it when he made her do that--it felt so good to taste the proof of her own sluttiness.

"If you're a very good slave then I may decide to let you cum soon," he said. "But I expect total obedience. You are not going to have that level of pleasure without earning it."

"I'll do my absolute best to be obedient for you, sir." She hoped that he knew that would be true whether being rewarded with an orgasm was a possibility or not.

"Good." That consuming pleasure again, so much better than cumming could be, just from hearing him say that word.

She got up and got dressed. They left the room and started walking down the hallway. She could have left her eyes downcast, trying to avoid the looks of people who could very well have heard her, but instead she held her head high. His slave was exactly what she was, and in that moment she couldn't have been prouder of that fact.