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Taking What's His-Hour Two

The second of a series of shorts spanning over a 24 hour period. Hour Two-Punishment and Possession
Love you, Master. Glad I could help craft Your dream...


He had given her a few minutes of respite, long enough for Him to draw a bath for her. She was curled up on the bed, her eyes following Him hungrily. He hadn’t released her from her space, from that warm, white place where she was utterly and completely His. She wanted His touch, His hands all over her skin, pinching and stroking everywhere. She shifted, arching against the crumpled, still-warm sheets, aching for release. She stretches, her back arching as she pushed herself up on her fingertips—had He been with her on the bed, it would have been an invitation, a plea to be taken.

He walked back into clear view of the bed, and smirked down at His writhing girl. “Anxious, are we, girl?” His fingernails left red marks along her spine as He pet her, chuckling as her back arched impossibly to accommodate His touch. “Such a needy girl,” He spoke with mock sternness, “Such a greedy pet…” The fondness in His voice made her tremble. She needed more. “Up you get, girl. Into the tub,” He gave her wrist a gentle tug, His fingertip curling into the D-ring of her cuff. She whined, a low moan in the back of her throat and started to speak. His calloused fingers pressed against her lips, effectively silencing any complaints, any questions.

“Don’t question, greedy girl. You’ll get more. You’ll scream for Me when I’m done with you…”

She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as her eyes glazed at the thought of screaming for Him, of aching for her Master. She didn’t offer another word or hesitation—she followed Him into the bathroom, silently begging to be touched, taken.

He was deliberately gentle with her, taking His time to run a washcloth over her body. He took pleasure in her gasps as He trailed hot water up onto her shoulders, delighting in the droplets of water that ran down her chest, teasing her sensitive flesh and causing her nipples to harden. “Please, Master…touch…?” her voice was barely a whisper, and she shook with the effort it took not to touch herself, not to push and stroke deep.

He leaned close, hot breath on her ear as He spoke, “When I’m good and ready, pet. And not a moment before,” His voice was a growl, threatening.

She wriggled in the hot bath, whining in frustration at the lack of friction. When she made to speak again, her mouth barely open, He bit down on her shoulder, drawing out a yelp. When he pulled away, leaving her shaking and wanting, his fingertips traced along her throat, the hint of pressure making her moan and press into his hand, nuzzling.

Suddenly brazen, caring little if she were punished, she ducked her head down, capturing His fingertips in her mouth. She sucked and licked, taking her time to enjoy the moan that came from her Master—He had been caught unprepared for her movements, for her tongue to tease at his fingertips. His eyes closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her tongue on His calloused fingers—rough from years of playing music—and His free hand trailed along her cheek, a gentle caress.

Another moment and His eyes opened, glaring hard at His girl. Pulling His fingers from her soft, wet mouth, He grabbed the back of her neck—a silent command for her to fall for Him, to bring herself down into her space. She stilled instantly, her head dropping to her chest, waiting for His command. He walked His fingertips down her chest, pinching hard at her nipples, twisting until they hardened for Him.

“Get out of the tub. Now. Bratty girls don’t get gentle touches,” His voice was hard, demanding her immediate attention.

When she didn’t move fast enough for His liking, He gripped her hair and gave a sharp tug. She scrambled to please Him, crawling over the edge of the tub and dropping to her knees in front of Him. His eyes narrowed dangerously and He released His hold on her hair.

“Come to me, girl,” the disappointment in His voice was tinged with hints of lust—He wanted His girl to scream for Him, to quake and writhe with Him deep inside of her.

He left the bathroom, moving quickly towards the over-sized bed. He watched with satisfaction as she crawled to Him, her back arched and her head down—she was deep into her space, wet with need for Him, for her punishment, for His pleasure. She crawled all the way to Him, shivering and biting back whimpers as the lush carpet rubbed against her over-sensitive skin.

When she arrived at His feet, He growled out His approval. He walked around her slowly, fingers digging into flesh as He inspected her. His fingertips walked over her hips and onto her cheeks, pinching as they went. “Don’t you dare move, girl. And don’t make a sound.” His hand rubbed gentle circles at first, teasing and preparing her for punishment.

Without warning, His hand came down hard and she winced, biting her lip to keep from arching back into His touch. Again and again, His hand rained blows down on her raised backside, coloring the flesh to a deep red. He was proud of His girl—she’d not made a sound as she took her punishment, not moved to or from His hand. When He hit on the twentieth time, He resumed His slow circles, soothing the tender flesh, “Much better, My girl. Needed a reminder, did we? A lesson on how to behave…”

She nodded, keeping her head still down, “Yes Master, thank You for taking the time to teach me to behave,” she whimpered and thrust her backside higher, an invitation and a plea to be used, to be taken by Him. “Please Master, claim me,” Her voice was full of tremors, each word needier than the last.

He chuckled softly as he watched shivers travel across her shoulders, down her spine, watched as her eyes glazed with need. The soothing circles stopped and His fingers dipped lower, teasing at her wetness. Her punishment had taught her, and prepared her, to take Him, to please Him. He groaned and knelt down, pushing her shoulders to the floor and grasping her hips tight enough to bruise.

With a low growl, He thrust into her hard and fast, claiming her in that first thrust. He pushed her shoulders down lower, flattening her upper body against the lush carpet as He moved inside her. Keeping one hand on her hip, leaving more of crescent marks, He wound His free hand through her hair. He gave it a sharp pull, urging her to arch her back into the delicious curve that drove Him closer to the edge.

He moved faster, thrusting harder into her warmth, pushing her closer to the edge. His voice was a throaty growl, a possessive edge flooding His words, “You wait for my permission, girl.”

She moaned and whimpered, pushing back against each thrust. Her words tumbled out incoherent—pleas and admiration and need and want lacing each jumbled word. He thrust harder, His voice meeting and mingling with His girl’s pleas. He let go of His hold on her hair, His rough, nimble fingers snaking under her, flicking at her most sensitive parts, driving her closer with His ministrations. “Are you close, My girl? Do you need your Master?”

She was shaking, her hips bucking back at each of His thrusts, and when she found her voice she spoke with a low keen, “Please Master, need You, need release…Please. Need so much. Want.”

He thrust deep, again and again, and growled out His command, “Come for me, My Girl,” another thrust, impossibly deeper, harder, and this time He held Himself in place, tumbling over the edge with His girl.

They both crumpled, curling up on the carpeting with twin looks of exhaustion. He drew His arms tight around her, pulling her to His chest. He nuzzled into her neck, trailing soft kisses down onto her shoulders. His voice, laced with contentment, murmured into her ear, “Mine. All Mine. My good girl…”

She wriggled against him, writhing with contentment at His words, her eyes closing as sleep started to take her. “Always Yours, Master…” She felt His lips curl into a smile as sleep claimed her.

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Copyright © This text is copyrighted by Subtiggy. Do not reproduce, copy, steal, or borrow from my own writing. Thanks so much.

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