The Soprano

It was midnight and her Master was already in bed, checking the financial results of the day on the television on the wall in front of him. She thought she might get lucky tonight and she brought with her to bed her styling hairbrush, so that he could brush her hair while he listened and watched. She handed the brush to him, looking as sweet and demure as she could. She didn’t say anything. He took it from her.

“It is the wrong brush, girl. Bring me the wooden backed hairbrush from my wet pack.”

She looked at him carefully, to check that he meant it, and seeing that he did, she returned to the bathroom and fetched the evil item. She handed the brush of pain to him much in the same way as she had handed over the brush of pleasure.

“Thank you, girl. Now, bend over my knees.”

She did so. There was no choice in the matter. He brought back the smooth wooden side of the brush on her buttocks; first six on the left cheek and then six on the right. She lay there panting. The sting was like nothing else.

“All right. Tuck down close beside me and off to sleep immediately, please.”

She did as she was told and she slept well. She woke at 7.01 am. She took in where she was; that there was no need to wake herself up this morning to get her sons off to school, and she returned to slumber. She woke again at 8.25, and felt rested.

She looked about for her Master and a moment or two later he entered the bedroom from the living room.

“Good morning, girl.”

“Good morning, Master. I think I will go and check the temperature of the water in the spa.”

“No, you won’t. You will only do as you are told while we are here. I will tell you what you will do and when you will do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.”

“Well, I hope so, for your sake. Because, if you don’t, you will have a terribly sore bottom.”

“Yes, Master.”

“All right. It is time for your morning maintenance.”

“I need to go the bathroom, first.”

“What do you say?”

“Master, may I please go to the bathroom, first?”

“Good girl. Yes, you may.”

She smiled to herself as she returned to the bedroom. She liked this game.

“Climb over my knee, little girl.”

She did as she was told. She was such a gooood, little girl.

He brought his hand up rather high. She could sense that, and he brought it down hand, about eight swats to each buttock. She was panting. They were fast.

“Now, for a taste of the tawse. Stay still.”

He brought the blasted strips of leather down across her bottom more times than she could count. She remembered her friend’s advice and tried to transfer the pain to pleasure in her mind. She was trying to remember to breathe. Finally, he had had enough fun with his tawse for now. He asked her to rise and he folded the firm pillow over itself, and held it in place.

“Over you go. Be a good girl, now.”

She climbed over the pillow so that it rested below her hips.

“Pout out now.”

She pouted out.

“Pout out, girl!”

He was sterner now and she pouted out good and wide.”

“That’s better. That’s what I want.”

He got behind her and plundered her. She groaned instantly. Her orgasm was immediate. He maintained the pressure and fucked her for the longest time. She groaned and groaned and groaned. At one moment, she thought of a baritone singer she knew and his daily chortling, but the music she was making today was that of a soprano. The music was not necessarily in tune, but it was sweet to her ears and apparently, his.

“That’s right. You just keep singing for me. Let’s see how long you can sing!”

She was in orgasmic heaven. He had hit the play button and the CD would keep playing for as long as he wished.

Eventually, he turned her over and entered her again with her on her back and her knees up to his ears. The orgasms returned again but as much as she was still singing, she began to wonder how much more pleasure she could take. She did what she knew to do to encourage his pleasurable release, but he appeared disinterested. He continued to ensure that she chortle away. He squeezed her nipples between her fingers and off she went again.

When he was ready, he put her on her side, and he re-entered her in this position, clearly enjoying the sensations, for now his groans were deep and rhythmic. She lay there, completely still and accepted that he would use her body for as long as he cared.

Ultimately, he pulled his cock away and slapped her right buttock hard; three sound slaps. Still, she lay there quietly and absorbed the pain, coming immediately after the pleasure.

“Taste my sweat, little girl. Taste your juices on my cock. Use your tongue, now.”

As she moved to get on her knees, she glanced over at the clock. It was 9.45. She had been singing for quite some time.

She did as instructed and he was pleased.

“Good girl. Kneel at my feet, now. That’s a good slave. You are my little slave this week and your Master expects total obedience. I’ll be making generous use of all your holes. Do you understand?”

"Yes, Master.”

“Would you like to go and check the temperature in the spa now?”

“Yes please, Master.”

“Good girl. You’ve been in purgatory because that is where a girl who misbehaves goes. But, you are back where you belong, now, aren’t you? Back in harness; back in service.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I would continue to be a good girl because being in purgatory is not a comfortable place to be for you, is it?”

“No, Master; I don’t like purgatory at all.”

“All right. Well, I do like my girl being as well behaved as she has been this morning. There are many rewards for well behaved girls, aren’t there?”

She smiled. She tried not to, but she could not help it.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl. Off you go to check the water temperature.”

“Yes Master.

9.55 am: She slipped away. She was very, very happy.