We were colleagues and it always felt dangerous between us. She was in her early thirties and I had just turned fifty. At first we actively disliked each other, perhaps reacting to the arrogance that we are both prone to, but that slowly changed. We found that we worked well together and started to flirt, particularly after a drink or two on overnight business trips.

She was tall, blond, beautiful, posh, and very fond of wearing designer high heels that made her almost as tall as my 6’ 1”. It was her shoes and my fascination with them that led to drunken conversations that revealed her dominant and my subservient side. In time we discovered that we both had dominant and submissive tendencies, and actually, the first time we crossed a line I spanked her. It was tentative, not yet intended to inflict pain, her bottom in tight blue jeans across my lap, and her long legs and red stilettos stretched down to the floor. 

When we weren’t away on business, we tested each other’s subservience by text message. We demanded acts and photographic proof of submission, digging deep into a cruel imagination that we shared. During the working day, if she was the one in charge, I would be expected to respond immediately to a text. A typical task would involve going to a stall in the executive bathroom, removing all my clothes, masturbating until I was on the verge of orgasm, and then spanking my erect cock multiple times with a long plastic ruler. I was not allowed to cum. It wasn’t unusual for her to make me do this half a dozen times in a day. My cock and balls would be raw, red, and aching.

On a day like this, she enjoyed visiting my office at the end of the day to tease and gloat, enjoying my discomfort and frustration. I was actually senior to her at work, but it didn’t feel like that as she sat behind my desk and watched me stand in the corner of my own office with my hands on my head. Sometimes she chose to add to my humiliation and frustration by making me wear her lace panties and a butt plug in the office.

I would take the dominant role too, although I ultimately concluded that her dominant character was stronger than mine. On one memorable occasion, I summoned her to my office. I had her shut the door and sit across the desk from me. She knew what was coming because I had teased her about it by text. Her customary swagger was missing and she looked nervous, her face a little flushed. I had her lift up her skirt, slip a hand inside her panties, and bring herself to the edge of orgasm. With fingers still wet with her own juices, I told her to unbutton her blouse and bare her breasts. Her tits were nicely rounded with large areoles. I watched and smiled as she, at my instruction, clamped a wooden clothes peg (clothespin) on each nipple. I made her sit there for several minutes. I could see the pain in her eyes, but she determinedly said nothing. 

All this is to give you a sense of our relationship. It wasn’t straightforward and it wasn’t casual, we were deeply connected by our darker sexual instincts. Our relationship did ebb and flow over time, partly because that level of emotional and sexual energy isn’t sustainable. We had been going through one of our quieter periods when we realised we both had business trips to a city in Germany at the same time.

I had been fantasising and craving her dominance, and of course, she made me beg for it. A one-sided negotiation via text and a picture sent of me naked and on my knees on a hard, tiled bathroom floor.

“Please Mistress, please, I beg you.” Yes, I called her Mistress. When I felt this level of need it came easily. If you haven’t felt that need, it’s hard to explain. For me, I think it comes from the deep sexual thrill I get from being humiliated rather than any desire for pain. 

Ahead of the trip, we texted a lot and our excitement and my trepidation grew. In begging for her dominance, I had given her license to take me deeper into my submissiveness. She instructed me to buy a large butt plug and to bring it with me. I spent more time naked on my hands and knees, trying to get used to inserting the plug and to the feel of it filling and stretching me. The thought of doing this in front of her scared me. She also instructed me to bring six wooden clothes pegs with me, clearly intending to take her revenge for that time in my office. 

The night before we departed I made a stupid mistake. She sent me a text telling me which suit to wear for the trip and to wear mismatched socks. I take pride in my appearance at work and she knew I would struggle with this. I did struggle massively, unreasonably, and my response can only be described as a tantrum. Briefly, the dominant me asserted itself, I didn’t dress as I’d been told and I knew I would pay for it.

After a working day that I thought would never end, we arrived at our hotel. She gave me instructions to shower, dress again in my suit and tie, and to bring two large gin and tonics to her room at exactly 7.30. I dared not be late and was outside her room several minutes early, feeling like a waiter with the drinks balanced on a tray. I knocked nervously on her door at exactly 7.30 and she opened it with a stern look on her face but a mischievous glint in her eye.

She told me to put the drinks on a small table and waved me to one of two comfortable chairs next to the table. I sat and she passed me one of the drinks. Being treated as an equal, although I knew it wouldn’t last, was unnerving. My hand shook a little as I took the drink. She smiled, enjoying my discomfort, and we chatted almost casually about the situation in which I found myself, about the transition I was now making from colleague, friend, and equal to Slave. We really had become very intimate friends, sharing so much, particularly each other’s desires, fantasies, and fears. It went much deeper than a sexual liaison in a hotel room because she really knew what I was thinking and feeling at that moment. 

Then, still, very casually, she told me to stand up and remove my jacket. I did as instructed before she invited me to sit back down and we continued to sip our drinks and talk. Five minutes passed before she told me to remove another item of clothing of my choice. I took off my shoes and socks and realised as I did that we were enacting a fantasy I had once shared with her by text. I knew now that I was soon going to be sitting naked in front of her. My trousers went next and then my shirt, my fingers trembling as I undid the buttons. She told me to leave my tie on, so it hung loosely around my bare neck. 

I sat again, wearing only my underpants and the tie, which was red and matched my embarrassed face and sipped at my drink - now just melting ice. Eventually, she nodded and I stood to complete my slow striptease. I eased my underpants over my hips and down to my ankles. I knew from our previous encounters that I wasn’t allowed to cover myself, so I quickly stepped out of my pants and sat back down. Bizarrely, our conversation continued with me naked but for the tie and her fully clothed. I tried hard to hold my stomach in as I sat in this unflattering position.

I was also embarrassed that my cock was not hard. I had reached the stage where I needed physical attention or Viagra to stay hard. In a moment of submissive honesty, I had told her this and she had taken my Viagra away at the airport that morning. My erection and any satisfaction I may ultimately enjoy really did belong to her.

“What a pathetic little girly cock you have,” she taunted.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She had this way of sneering, lofty and patronising, that really irritated me in the office, but now seemed very appropriate. 

She informed me that my tantrum the previous evening meant there would be no gentle easing me in. She was going to start with a hard punishment for that disobedience.

“Yes Mistress,” I said as she told me to pass her the black leather belt from my discarded trousers. She then told me to get down on my knees, spread my legs wide, and lower my head to the floor with my arms out in front of me. I waited my nose against the hotel room carpet and my bottom up in the air. My buttocks were spread and I knew this position left nothing to her imagination. When it came to opportunities to humiliate me, she missed nothing.

I heard the belt swish through the air before cutting across my bottom. Multiple rapid strokes followed and I repeatedly felt the harsh sting of the belt across my buttocks and thighs. I gritted my teeth, knowing that I deserved this. Eventually, she stopped and told me that the last six strokes would be delivered vertically, between my stretched buttocks. To do this she stood over me, her black patent stilettos on either side of my head. Again I heard the swish of the belt before it landed between my buttocks, the tip flicking hard against my anus. The second and third strokes followed the same painful path, but she aimed the fourth lower so that the tip of the belt viciously caught my exposed balls. I cried out in shock and pain.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said, “you have two more like that coming.”

The pain was horrible as the belt flicked twice more hard against my balls, but I was also starting to revel in my submissiveness. 

She left me on my knees while she sat back in her chair, about a metre in front of me.

“Have you brought the butt plug and the clothes pegs?" she asked.

“Yes Mistress,” I said.

“Get them,” she said, “but stay on your knees.”

She watched as I crawled back to my jacket and retrieved the items. I started to crawl back but she stopped me.

“Put the plug in your mouth,” she ordered.

It was clean, but further evidence of her attention to detail when it came to humiliating me. I crawled back to her like a dog retrieving a ball, and she took the plug and pegs, putting them on the table next to her. 

I continued to kneel before her as she stretched out her leg and one black stiletto.

“Grovel, Slave,” she said, “beg to be allowed to kiss my shoes.” I bowed my head to the floor and begged repeatedly to be given this privilege, which I wanted and needed.

“Please Mistress, please, your Slave begs you.”

She let me grovel and watched. Finally, she said, “You may kiss my shoes but only if you beg first to wear the pegs on your nipples as you do it.”

I begged again and she gave me two of the pegs. Knowing I would at some point have to wear the pegs, I had practiced at home to see if there was a less painful way of doing it. I discovered there was, just about, but it was still very painful - particularly putting them on and taking them off. They were wooden, heavier than the plastic ones you can get, with a vicious steel spring that made them bite hard into sensitive flesh.

I winced and tried to breathe deeply as I attached the pegs to my nipples.

She then said, “This isn’t an order but it would please me to see the other four pegged to your ball sack. Would you like to please me?”

“Yes Mistress,” I said and began to attach the remaining clothes pegs. This resulted in a dull, persistent ache to go with the sharper pain in my nipples. I knelt up in front of her so she could inspect the end result. The four pegs fanned out from my balls must have added to my ridiculous appearance. She leant forward and twisted the pegs on my nipples, making me cry out again. Then she tightened the tie I was still wearing hard against my neck. This level of pain and submission was new for us. She paused and looked hard into my eyes, I think to check I was still in my submissive place. I was.

“You may suck the heel of my shoe, Slut,” she said. “Take it deep into your mouth.”

I bowed my head and, supporting her outstretched foot with my hands, started to run my tongue along the length of the heel. Then I took it into my mouth, at which point she pushed the sole of her shoe hard against my face. The heel went all the way into my mouth and I gagged a little. She laughed and eased the pressure before instructing me to lick every inch of her shoe, including the sole. I did, my tongue soon aching and dry. I felt her shiver a little as my tongue slipped from her shoe onto the top of her stockinged foot. As I moved to her other shoe, I was distracted, but could not escape the hurt inflicted by the pegs.

“Does your pathetic little girly cock need its little blue pill,” she taunted as I knelt up in front of her.

“Yes please, Mistress.” That wasn’t enough, she wanted me to say it: “Please, Mistress, can I have the blue pill for my pathetic little girly cock?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, “now lie face down and spread eagle on the floor.”

“With the pegs on, Mistress?” I realised the pegs would be trapped between my body and the floor, adding yet more pain.

She slapped my face hard. “How dare you question me. Get on the floor now, you worthless little Slut.”

I lowered myself as gently as could to the floor but instantly felt the pegs tugging sharply at my nipples and balls. She got up and walked slowly around me before I felt the pointed toe of her shoe rest between my splayed legs and against my balls. She told me to lift my hips up. I did this and it gave her the room to lift her foot up harder against my pegged ball sack. I groaned as the pegs twisted into the tender skin there. 

She removed her foot and let me lower my hips. I heard her move again and felt the sharp point of a stiletto heel did into the flesh between my shoulder blades. She slowly increased the pressure, pushing my pegged nipples harder against the floor. The pegs twisted and I wailed in pain.

“This is the price you pay for your pathetic limp cock and your little blue pill,” she sneered.

She lifted her foot, easing the pain a little. She moved around again and her foot was on my head, pushing down so that the right side of my face was squashed against the carpet and the left side squashed under her shoe. She pressed down firmly and told me to stick my tongue out. I obeyed and she dropped the Viagra pill to the floor. It missed my tongue and ended up about twelve inches away. She lifted her foot and said: crawl Slave if you want it badly enough, but don’t lift your body away from the floor - and keep your tongue out. Tears filled my eyes as I slowly crawled to the pill, the pegs twisting my flesh, and licked it from the carpet. 

“Roll over onto your back,” she instructed. I did so as I swallowed the pill.

“Your cock still looks pathetic,” she said, prodding it with the toe of her shoe.

“Yes Mistress, I have a pathetic limp girly cock.”

Her foot hovered just above my cock and then she brought it down and squashed my cock beneath her shoe.

“Pathetic, so tiny and soft,” she said, “but you may remove the pegs and get me a drink from the minibar.”

With relief and more pain I did as I was told. 

While she sipped her drink, I stood in a corner, nose pressed against the wall and hands on my head. My body ached from holding the position, but it was good to be free of the pegs and no longer on my aching knees - although that feeling wasn’t to last for long. 

“Fetch the plug, Slave, I want to watch you insert it,” she said with a wicked smile. 

She knew I had been dreading this moment because I’d told her during our text conversations. I crawled across to the plug. “Please, Mistress, may I use some lube?” We had discussed this too and she had agreed because the plug was much larger than anything we had experimented with before. Thick, long, black, and very intimidating. 

I crawled to a spot on the floor in front of her, my head towards her, and the plug again in my mouth. It is really surprising to me, as someone who can be dominant, how quickly I get used to being naked, on my knees, and repeatedly abused and humiliated.

She nodded for me to proceed. I took the plug from my mouth and applied the lube. Then with my legs spread, head down and bottom in the air, I reached back with the plug. I felt the cool lube against my puckered arse and started to push. I knew I had to relax to do this, but I didn’t feel relaxed. It didn’t help that she taunted me, sneering:

“What a worthless Slave you are, I don’t think you’ll ever find that dominant side of yours after this!”

I pushed harder and gradually my anus began to open. The plug stretched me uncomfortably wide and I groaned as it gradually filled me until the base was hard against my skin. I relaxed a little, my head still against the floor. There was silence for a minute or two as I think we both reflected on what had happened, the extent to which I was giving myself completely to her.

Then she spoke, her voice for the first time with some warmth in it:

“Good, Slave, you have pleased me. You have more pain and humiliation to endure, but if you do that there will be pleasure too.”

“Yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress.”

“You may look up Slave,” she said.

I raised my head as she stood up. She was holding a riding crop. It was long, thin, and had a wider leather flap at the tip. She looped the end of the crop over her wrist and started to unbutton her blouse. She slipped it from her shoulders and it fell in a soft heap on the floor. Her bra was black with an opaque lace mesh that partly displayed her nipples. She unbuttoned her skirt, letting it to fall to the floor, revealing matching panties and a suspender belt holding up her black stockings. The panties too had a lace mesh that started to reveal a neatly trimmed triangle of blond hair above her pussy.

With the Viagra kicking in too, my cock responded, hardening quickly.

“Now that is unfortunate Slave,” she said, indicating my cock with the crop, “because I want you to push your cock and balls back between your legs and keep your thighs together to hold them in place.”

I did as instructed, which was painful for my erect cock. With my head back against the floor and my bottom still raised up in the air, my position meant my cock and balls were now exposed to her, between my thighs and below my plugged arse.

She stood over me again, one foot on either side of my head, and then I felt the crop whip down hard across my left buttock. Followed swiftly by a matching blow to the right. The crop continued to land on both buttocks with swift, painful regularity. I heard her breathing intensify and then, eventually, she paused, now breathing hard.

“You know what’s coming Slave, don’t you?"

“Yes Mistress, I do.” I had been waiting, dreading her turning her attention to my exposed balls and cock, now only semi-hard after my beating with the crop.

“Slave, your pathetic girly cock is a disappointment to me and I am going to punish it and your pointless little balls.”

“Yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress.”

I felt the leather flap at the tip of the crop gently caress my cock and it hardened further in response. Then she pulled the crop back and whipped it viciously across the exposed head of my erect cock. I cried out and instinctively reached one hand back to protect myself. This really made her angry.

“How dare you, Slave,” she snarled, reaching down to wrench my hand away and pin my arm hard across my back before raining down a long, frantic series of blows on my unprotected manhood. I screamed in pain at the onslaught, but she kept going, tears forming in my eyes.

She stopped suddenly, but still angry turned her attention to my plugged arse. I felt her fingernails scrape my skin as she reached under the base of the plug to pull it back, almost all the way out, before thrusting it hard inside me again. I grunted and braced myself as she continued to fuck me hard with the large plug.

“You worthless, disobedient Slave,” she said. “With your pathetic cock, you deserve only to be fucked like the little girly Slut you are. Next time, I will fuck you with my strap-on.”

She emphasised each word with a vicious thrust of the plug into my sore and stretched arse.

When she stopped I was left, like her blouse, in a heap on the floor. My cock stung, my balls ached and my arse - she had eventually removed the plug - felt raw. She sat back in the chair, her legs spread. She saw me looking and laughed, saying:

“You are a long way, Slave, from being worthy of my pussy. First,” she said, “I have to teach you that your cock is mine to whip whenever I choose to and that you have no say in the matter. Stand up and make it hard again.”

I stood in front of her and began to masturbate. My cock stiffened quickly.

She then stood and said: “Put your hands on your head Slave and ask me nicely to whip your pathetic cock.”

“Please Mistress,” I said putting my hands on my head, “please whip my pathetic little cock.”

She stepped forward and took a firm hold of my shaft, leaving the head of my cock exposed. I hardened further in her grasp and felt my cock twitch. She smiled a cruel smile at me and then once again flicked the sensitive head of my cock hard with the tip of the crop.

“Ask me again,” she said.

“Please Mistress, whip my pathetic little cock.”

Her hand kept my cock rigid as she repeated this six times. 

When she was satisfied, she sent me to stand in the corner again. I stood and catalogued how I felt. My shoulders and neck ached from keeping my hands on my head, my knees and back ached from the time I’d spent on the floor, my buttocks burned from the crisscrossing marks of the belt and crop, and my cock, balls, and arse were all hot and aching. I was very thirsty too. I also felt very intensely alive!

“Come here slave,” she said after a while.

I got down on all fours and crawled to her. On the floor at her feet, she had placed a bowl of water.

“Drink,” she said.

I lapped like a thirsty dog from the bowl. It felt good. I emptied the bowl as best I could. She then poured two miniature bottles of gin into the bowl. Drink, she ordered again. The neat gin burned my lips and throat, but I felt it almost instantly creep warmly into my bloodstream and start to soften the edges of my mind.

“Kneel up Slave,” she instructed. I did and saw that her legs were now more primly together and that a large, old-fashioned, flat-back wooden hairbrush rested on her lap. I knew something like this would happen too. I often fantasised about being spanked erotically, but it was the submission and humiliation that excited me and the prospect of a hard, painful punishment with a hairbrush terrified me. She knew this and saw my gaze fall on the hairbrush. She smiled and said:

“Yes, Slave, it is going to hurt, but it will be worth it. Now stand up.”

I stood and she grasped my semi-hard cock, pulling me across the room by it to a tall, heavy-looking chest of drawers.

“Put your arms up on top of the chest of drawers Slave,” she said, “and hold onto the back with both hands. Spread your legs.”

This all had the effect of forcing me to stand up a little on my toes.

“Push your bottom back,” Slave, she said. I did as instructed, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

The pain from the hairbrush was horrible. She hit me hard, the flat wooden back covered so much of my backside at once and delivered both a sharp, shocking, intense pain and a dull, sickening, bruising ache at the same time. All building on the heat from the belt and crop. I wasn’t sure I could take it, but I knew this was the final real test and I hung grimly to the chest of drawers as she alternated blows between my buttocks. It was agonising, not erotic at all, and soon I was crying freely, tears running down my face. I had never been punished like this and it humbled me further. 

When she finally stopped, she helped me across to the bed and let me lie down to recover a little. As I continued to sob, she even loosened and then removed the tie I had been wearing throughout as part of my humiliation.

After about ten minutes, with my bottom still throbbing with pain but some of my composure regained, she said:

“We can stop there Slave if you like, but I’d like to show you how pain and pleasure can merge perfectly together.”

“Please don’t stop, Mistress,” I said almost before she had finished speaking. 

She took my hands, helped pull me to my feet, and gave me a tissue with which to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. The room felt warm and I could still feel the softening warmth of the gin inside me.

She said, “I’m going to blindfold you now, Slave, but I’ve decided not to tie your hands. I think you’ve learnt now not to let your hands get in my way! You will, however, keep your hands behind your back.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I reached my hands behind me as she slipped an eye mask over my head and everything went dark. I stood, waiting, and could sense her moving, close, and in front of me. Then I felt her hot breath on my cock and it began to harden again. Her fingers encased my aching balls and she dug her nails gently into the soft skin. I was still only semi-erect when she took my cock into her mouth and let it harden fully inside. I groaned, new sensations already starting to dim the pain. 

She slid her lips slowly back along my shaft, freeing my cock which sprung to attention. I thrust my hips forward in the hope of finding her mouth again, but instead, I felt a sharp, stinging flick from the crop - and then another, and another. I moaned. The blows weren’t as hard as before, but hard enough to soften my cock again. The blindfold also meant the blows came completely without warning.

There was silence again and once more she took my semi-hard cock into her mouth. It hardened predictably and I thought perhaps she was demonstrating now how completely she owned and controlled me. This time, when I was fully erect, she really started sucking me off, taking my cock deep into her throat. It felt incredible and she brought me close to orgasm, but again she stopped and whipped my cock into limp submission with the crop. I was physically and mentally exhausted, my body was a mess of aches and pains and my balls felt ready to explode.

“Stay with me, Slave,” she said almost kindly, “you will be allowed to beg for release soon.”

Then my aching balls were in her hot mouth and she sucked hard on them, making me whimper. Still, I could see only darkness and that intensified every sensation. She released my balls and again took my stiffening cock into her mouth. This time she told me to fuck her mouth hard and I did, thrusting my hips and feeling my cock repeatedly slide into her throat.

She paused briefly, gripping my cock firmly in her hand.

“Slave,” she said, “you may remove the blindfold and look at me.”

I took the blindfold off and looked down. Her face was flushed, her lips wet and flecked with my pre-cum. She had removed the bra and her breasts hung free, her nipples rock hard. My cock twitched in her hand at the sight of her.

“You are not to cum without my permission,” she said, “do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress, but please I beg you to let me cum.”

“I will allow you your release, Slave,” she said, “but it will involve a final act of pain and humiliation. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Mistress, please Mistress,” I said.

“Fetch two of the clothes pegs and the butt plug and get yourself ready, Slave,” she ordered.

I did as instructed, attaching the pegs to my already sore nipples and again forcing the plug into my tender arse. She stood and slowly removed her panties, naked now except for her stockings and stilettos. She told me to open my mouth and slowly stuffed the panties past my lips. They were already damp and her taste and smell filled my senses, just as her panties filled my mouth. 

She knelt again and took my cock back into her mouth. It was already hard and once more she let me fuck her throat. I was desperate now to cum.

“Please Mistress, I beg you,” I tried to say through a mouthful of her panties, “please let me come.”

She let my rigid cock slip from her mouth and sat back in the chair, her legs together. Kneel, Slave, she said, and beg. I begged, and begged, mumbling through her panties, grovelling, needing that release desperately. “Please, Mistress, I beg you.”

“Alright, Slave, you will bring yourself to orgasm and you will cum on my shoes. I want you to know as you orgasm that you will then have to lick my shoes clean.”

She stretched both feet out towards me, her toes pointed and together. I knelt, feeling the pain in my nipples, my beaten and stretched arse, the panties in my mouth, and the hardness of my cock. I gently brought my tender cock back to the brink of orgasm and then cried out as I shot wads of thick cum onto both shoes. I had never experienced such intensity of release or seen so much cum.

She gave me virtually no time to bask in the moment before she said:

“You may remove the panties and start licking, Slave.”

I took the panties from my mouth, bowed my head, and started to clean my own cum from her shoes, forcing myself to lick and swallow the cloying, salty mess until I felt sick. With my orgasm over, I had nothing to distract me from the pain and tiredness that now seemed to engulf my body. Eventually, her shoes were clean, although she pointedly reached down, took a last large glob of cum that had dripped on the carpet, and smeared it across my face. 

I still knelt before her and now she spread her legs and beckoned me towards her. The lips of her pussy were already wantonly spread and very wet. As I got closer, she grabbed me by both ears and pulled my face roughly down between her thighs. I breathed in the pungent scent of her sex as she jammed my face against her cunt.

“Open your mouth, Slave,” she said, “stick your tongue firmly out, and keep your mouth open until I say you can close it.”

I wasn’t given the chance to pleasure her, she just lifted her hips and ground her pussy and clit hard again my face, using me merely as a fuck-toy. She continued to grab at my ears and my hair too, holding my face in place while her body bucked against me. Her juices quickly spread across my face and into my mouth, nose, and even eyes, blurring my vision. I kept my tongue firmly out and my mouth open.

I realised quickly one of the reasons she wanted me to keep my mouth open was that she squirted during her orgasm. I hadn’t seen this before, but she had told me during one of our text conversations. That had led me to check out videos of this online and I knew that some women squirted long and hard. I could also see that she was building to something extremely intense as her body writhed and bucked, her legs now wrapped behind my neck, and she moaned repeatedly. 

And then she came, screaming, still holding my face in place, and she really did squirt. A pulsing stream of clear fluid that filled my eyes and nose and, then, my mouth.

“Swallow, you little girly Slave Slut,” she almost screeched. “Swallow my cum.”

Her juices filled my mouth and my throat, it seemed endless, and I drank until finally, I felt her body start to relax, she loosened her grip on my ears and the flow of her juices ceased.

I thought perhaps she was finished with me, but she wasn’t quite. She stood slowly up and helped me to my feet too, before leading me back to the bed. I took small, tense steps to ensure the plug stayed in place and winced as the pegs pulled harshly down on my nipples.

“Lie down on your back, Slave,” she said, and I did.

She then climbed onto the bed and straddled me, her feet again on either side of my head and her shapely arse just above my face, which was still sticky and wet with her juices.

“As a final act of humiliation, at least for tonight,” she said, “you’re going to lick my arse. And I want to feel your tongue deep inside me.”

With that, she lowered her bottom to my face and humbled me once more...