A Night Between Master and His Sex Slave
The room was dark and silent, save for the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows across the walls. I knelt, heart pounding, head bowed, waiting for him to enter. My skin tingled with anticipation, every inch of me alive, hyper-aware, aching for his presence.
When he finally stepped into the room, I didn’t dare to look up, but I could feel his gaze on me, powerful, commanding. Then I saw it—the sleek, dark riding crop in his hand.
He traced the crop along my jawline, lifting my chin just enough to meet his eyes. “Look at you, so obedient,” he murmured, his voice low, sending a shiver through my body. "Tell me, my little slut—are you ready to receive your mark tonight?"
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, my voice trembling, my whole body taut with need.
“Good. Then let’s begin.”
He let the crop trail down my neck, grazing over my collarbone, leaving a burning path in its wake. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged it down to my chest, tracing circles around my nipples, each touch light but electrifying. I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped my lips, my nipples hardening instantly under his control.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He laughed softly, watching me squirm. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already dripping for me.”
He brought the riding crop down on my thigh with a sharp snap. The sting was bright, immediate, sending a jolt straight to my core, making me cry out. He smirked, obviously pleased with my reaction. “You’ll take every stroke, won’t you?”
“Yes, Master,” I gasped, my body already pulsing, desperate for more.
“Good girl.” He delivered another quick flick to my other thigh, the sting mingling with pleasure, making the ache between my legs grow stronger. “Tell me how much you want this,” he commanded, his voice rough, almost possessive.
“Please, Master,” I moaned, breathless. “Please… I want to feel it everywhere. I want you to mark me, to make me yours.”
“Everywhere?” He chuckled darkly, running the crop down my stomach, letting it rest between my legs, pressing it against the heat radiating from me. I could feel the slickness already building, my whole body throbbing with need. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re soaking for me, aren’t you, my little slut? All for this riding crop.”
“Yes, Master,” I whimpered, feeling the desperation rise. I was ready to do anything for him, to let him take me as far as he wanted.
He pressed the crop harder against me, teasing, letting me feel the pressure but withholding the release I craved. “Not yet. I want to hear you beg for it.”
“Please, Master,” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “Please… use me. Make me feel it. I need it.”
With a satisfied smirk, he gave a strong, careful stroke to my sensitive spot. The mix of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, making me moan. He continued, each snap of the crop sending me closer to the edge, each sting a reminder of his power over me. My skin was alive, burning, every nerve focused on his control, his touch.
“You’re mine tonight,” he growled. He brought the crop back to my chest and flicked it over my nipples. Each strike brought a mix of pleasure and pain, making me gasp, arch, and surrender. “And by the time I finish with you, you’ll remember exactly who you belong to.”
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