Hey, all!
Well, yesterday was certainly an interesting day. It began like any other day: I eagerly greeted the day with Gregory’s morning wood in my mouth, satisfying my craving for his thick, creamy goodness, before making breakfast and seeing him off to work.
He told me he’d be home early to receive a new poker table. The furniture company scheduled delivery and assembly around lunchtime.
I had a few boxes of Christmas decorations stacked in the den. Gregory needed the space for the new table, so he asked me to put them in the attic right after breakfast. I had been procrastinating about putting them away for weeks.
“Yes, sir. I’ll put them in the attic first thing this morning,” I said.
I kissed him and sent him off to work. Then, I cleaned the kitchen, straightened up the bathroom, and made the bed.
The grocery delivery would be there soon, so I changed out of my nightie into a white casual dress with a hemline just above the knee. The delivery guy was especially helpful when my dress was short. I put my long blonde hair in a ponytail, slipped into some heels, and went to the kitchen.
The grocery guy was running late, so I cleaned out the fridge and cabinets, throwing away out-of-date items and nearly empty cartons and boxes.
He finally arrived and brought everything in for me. I tipped him, and when the door opened, he turned to leave. Gregory walked in.
“Hello, dear,” I said and kissed him.
“Hello, Catherine. Did you put away the boxes?”
Uh-oh. It was the second time he had asked me to put the boxes away in as many weeks. I guess I got sidetracked because I had forgotten about them entirely.
I ran into the den and moved them off the floor, setting them on the old poker table to clear space.
I watched as Gregory and the furniture guy unpacked the table in pieces and assembled it. It was a large convertible eight-player poker table with a cover so we could use it as a regular table.
It was a big, heavy, round wooden table that matched Gregory’s desk. It had cup holders and chip wells; the center was upholstered in black leather. The top was secured with clips around the edge. It was a beautiful table.
While they worked, I brought in the chairs. When they finished, I wiped everything down with furniture polish.
Gregory tipped the furniture guy $100, and he left.
He turned around and glared at me, hands on his hips, “What do you have to say for yourself, Catherine?”
“That’s a nice table, sir.”
“What did you call me, Catherine?”
“That’s a nice table, Master.”
“That’s better. There’s no point in being more disrespectful than you already have.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now, what of the boxes?”
I cast my eyes to the floor, “I forgot, sir.”
“I asked you to perform a simple task – twice – and it remains undone.”
“Yes, Master,” I felt like a bad girl caught misbehaving. My eyes glanced up to read his expression. He was livid.
“Do you need my help to move the boxes to the attic, Catherine?”
“No, sir. It’s my job, I’ll do it,” I said.
“Well, you’ve had two weeks to move them, and I’ve told you twice, yet here they sit. Obviously, you are unable to do it yourself. How many boxes are there, Catherine?”
There were more than a few. I walked over and started counting.
“I don’t hear you counting, Catherine. Count the boxes out loud.”
“One, two, three, four, five…seventeen boxes, Master.”
“Are there any heavy ones?”
“No, sir.”
“When did I tell you to put them away?”
“Two weeks ago, sir.”
“How many times have I told you?”
“Twice, sir.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to help you with the boxes since you can’t do it yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re going to thank me with your ass. Fetch the leather wrist cuffs, the hook, and the hairbrush and bring them here, Catherine.”
I knew I was in for it. The hairbrush was just an innocent-looking old-school wooden hairbrush, but in Gregory’s hands, it was an instrument of torture. There was no doubt that my butt cheeks would be bright red, burning, and bee-stung in short order.
The anal hook looked like a giant fishhook with a length of saddle string tied to it and balls where the barb should be.
I knew better than to complain, as complaining would only result in a mouthful of soap. My best bet was to be quiet and cooperate.
Gregory kept his tools in the den closet. He had a rack for his favorite implements on the back of the door. Although he preferred paddles and canes over straps, his collection included both.
A variety of restraints were available for use in any situation. He could lock me up any way he wanted me, and I would be at his mercy. I fetched the items and a bottle of lube and brought them to Gregory, placing everything on the table.
“Very well, Catherine. Give me your hands.”
“Yes, sir.”
He placed a leather cuff on each wrist. He twisted my arm behind my back, marched me around to the opposite side of the table, and bent me over it, facing the table with the boxes on it.
“You’ll have a nice view of the boxes while I paddle your ass for leaving them out.”
He secured each wrist to a clip on the table so I was stretched across it, my feet barely touching the floor.
Gregory is a genuinely sadistic Master. He takes his time rigging me up and admonishing me. He positions my body the way he wants me, scooting me this way or that, lifting me, and adjusting restraints so I am in the optimum position to receive maximum pain.
Hearing his rude comments and feeling his incidental contact as he manhandles me arouses apprehension and desire despite the promise of punishment and pain. I feel like such a bad girl for enjoying it so much.
“You seem to be lacking motivation concerning this simple task. It is my duty as your husband to provide the motivation you require.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He went into the closet and emerged with a spreader bar. He walked behind me and fitted the bar to my ankles to keep my feet apart.
“After all, you are just a woman, and I know how easily you are distracted.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gregory lifted my skirt and bunched it around my waist. He pulled my panties down to expose my cheeks and let them fall around my ankles.
“You won’t be needing those anymore.”
My breath caught, and I whimpered, struggling to remain silent as the air hit my drenched slit.
“Geez, Catherine. You’re soaked. No wonder you’re whimpering like a little bitch.”
He slid a long finger into my drenched hole and pulled it back out.
“Ooooo,” I moaned.
He added two more digits and fingered me for a few tantalizing strokes before pulling out his wet fingers and smearing my juices all over my back door.
“Oh, God, sir. Mmm.”
“I have something for your asshole, Catherine.”
He shoved the tip of the lube bottle into my musky hole and squeezed, filling my ass with warm tingly lube.
He picked up the hook and pushed the ball inside my pussy to fuck me there for a few strokes.
“Ohh, yes, fuck me, Master.”
He pulled the hook out of my cunt and unceremoniously shoved it up my ass. The balls at the tip of the hook forced my anus to open wide and accept the long steel invader. Gregory jammed the hook inside me, plowing my back forty deep and hard.
“Oh God, that’s so good, sir.”
“I knew a filthy tramp like you would love it.”
He pushed it all the way in tight. He tied the saddle string to my hair, holding my head up to see the boxes and holding the hook deep in my ass.
When I tilted my head forward, my ponytail pulled the hook further into my rectum. I gave it a few small tugs, and the trickle of juice between my legs became a waterfall.
“God, Catherine, you are an obscene little whore. You’re already distracted from our task, aren’t you?”
I was pulling my hair against the hook, humping the hook, working towards orgasm, when I felt a sharp whack on my left cheek.
“Ahh!” I blurted out before I knew what was happening.
“Are you paying attention bitch, or did you get distracted?”
He landed another whack on my right cheek, then a flurry of blows, alternating from cheek to cheek. My heels kept my rear end at the perfect height for spanking, my feet barely touching the floor.
My butt was on fire, and my eyes were filled with tears, blurring the sight of the seventeen boxes I forgot to put away.
“What do you think we’re doing here, you horny cunt?”
“Punish me, Master, I deserve it,” I sniveled through my tears.
“Why, bitch? Why are you getting punished?”
“I didn’t put the boxes away, sir.”
“God dammit, Catherine, you still aren’t paying attention, are you?”
He let loose with another flurry of whacks.
“Why are you getting punished, Catherine?”
“You asked me twice, and I disobeyed, Master.”
“NOW we’re communicating, Catherine. Do you deserve to be punished for not obeying your husband?”
“Yes, sir. You are my husband. I promised to obey you until death do us part, sir.”
“Well, you’re still alive, Catherine. I don’t ask you for anything beyond our vows, yet here we are.”
“I’m sorry, Master. It will never happen again.”
“Very well, Catherine. Are you ready for your punishment?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had seventeen boxes to put away. It took you fourteen days, and I had to tell you twice. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many whacks is that, Catherine?”
“Seventeen, sir.”
“Thirty-three whacks, Catherine. You will count them out. If you miscount, we will begin again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
Thirty-three whacks! Holy shit. The best way through it was to focus on the count. There was no way I wanted to begin again. My rear end was already on fire; tears were running down my face.
Gregory landed the first whack hard.
“One, sir. May I have another?”
Gregory left just enough time for me to count between whacks. Each whack seemed to double the pain of the previous whack.
The tears flowed, and sobs wracked my body as I cried like Daddy’s bad little girl. I tried to remain silent, but it was no use.
He landed whack after whack, and I counted each one through my tears and sobs. He made the last one the hardest.
“Thirty-three, sir.” I cried out loud. My butt cheeks felt as if I had sat on hot coals, burning hot and stinging as if a swarm of angry hornets had attacked.
Gregory left me rigged up on the poker table while we caught our breath. Predictably, the stinging in my red cheeks slowly dissipated into my core as heat. It permeated my womb, belly, and bowels, leaving me very hot and profoundly aroused.
“God damn, Catherine, that was one of our hottest sessions ever. You are one hot piece of ass.”
“My butt is on fire, Master. That hairbrush is wicked. Fuck me with it, fuck me.”
I was trembling on the edge of orgasm, but not quite there. My hips were jerking around, trying to hump the table. It was no use, my restraints kept me from grinding myself into the table, but my hips had a mind of their own, jerking sporadically and humping air.
I started nodding my head, tugging on the hook again, trying for an anal orgasm to bring me some relief. Gregory’s hand was on my rear end, rubbing my cheeks, touching me where the hook entered my ass.
“Oh yeah, slut. Tug that fucking hook. God, you’re such a nympho.”
He reached down between my legs to find me soaking wet. He reached under to rub my clit, and I instantly orgasmed, squirting a blast of juice on his hand and the new table. My juices ran like a river down my legs.
Gregory ravaged me with the handle of the hairbrush. It was just a tease. Only his long, thick cock could satisfy me now. I was desperate for it.
“Master, I’m so fucking horny, I’m going to explode. Please, please fuck me. I’m begging for your cock, Master. Please. Please.”
I felt Gregory untie my hair and pull the hook out of me. The dirty fucker brought it around to my face.
“Open, Catherine,” Oh, God, he was going shove the hook in my mouth to suck it clean, and I was going to do it.
I opened wide and sucked the anal balls as if my life depended on it. Thank God I was clean, but just the thought of sucking the cunt flavored lube off the hook had me at the edge of orgasm.
I loved feeling like Master’s dirty girl as I sucked my juices off the ball simply because he wanted to see it.
It only encouraged him.
“You’re a filthy little whore aren’t you, Catherine?”
“Yes, Master. I’m your filthy little whore. I live to please you, Master Gregory. Please fuck me.”
He went around behind me, and I felt his hands on my hips and moaned, “Oh, yes! Fuck me!”
I felt him pull my cheeks apart with his thumbs. I whimpered and moaned as his thumbs tickled my pucker. Finally, he thrust his thick cock deep into my ass.
He fucked me hard and rough, his meaty balls slapping against my snatch with every thrust. As badly as I needed him in my cunt, I welcomed the thorough fucking of my rear passage.
“Give it to me, Master. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Mmmmm, yes. Fuck me,”
I was delirious as he held my hips tight and slammed his cock into my ass, emptying his big balls deep inside me.
“Ooooo, fuck yeah, fuck yeah, oh fuck.”
I moaned through my orgasm, his manhood still throbbing inside me. He pulled out slowly and ran the tip of his beautiful cock down over my perineum to my cock-starved vagina.
His cum dribbled out of my ass and followed his cock. He teased my opening with the tip of his tool, stirring my honeypot and mixing in the cum from my ass before shoving his cock inside me.
Oh, my God, it had been so long, too long, since I felt myself yield to his manhood. No other man could ever do me like he does because no other man is Gregory.
“Oh, God, yes! Yes, Master! Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Master. Ooooo, fuck me. Oh, yes, Master, yes.”
Gregory let out a long groan and fucked me thoroughly until he brought me to a sublime full-body orgasm and unloaded all he had left inside me. He collapsed on top of me, still inside, as we came down from our wild afternoon orgasm together.
I was a sore but sated woman, blazing red butt cheeks notwithstanding. Gregory removed the spreader bar and cuffs. I stepped out of my panties and ran in to go pee.
It hurt to sit, and it probably would tomorrow, too.
I laughed to myself, giggly and euphoric, energized and rejuvenated. I felt like sunlight shone from every cell in my body, and happiness oozed from every pore.
Never mind that I was a sweat-soaked, cum filled mess with a painful, bee-stung ass; I could barely walk after the pounding he gave me; I was one happy wife.
I returned to the den, where Hubby was sitting at his desk. I sat on his lap and gave him a big kiss.
“Why don’t you shower, dear, and I’ll fix dinner early, OK? Go ahead, off with you now!”
I kissed him again, and he headed to the master bathroom.
I pulled the attic ladder down and put up the seventeen boxes in less than ten minutes.
The lube and the leather cuffs went back into the closet. I cleaned the table and stuffed my panties in my pocket.
I put the spreader and the hook in the dishwasher and set it on the autoclave setting.
I removed a lasagna I had prepared from the fridge and put it on the counter. It was best to bake it once it was at room temperature.
I walked towards the bathroom, pulling off my dress and bra and kicking off my heels before joining Gregory for a long, steamy shower.
Oh, how I love that man.
END
