WARNING: this story contains controversial Force Fantasy content
Read Lessons 4 & 5 here
Part 6 - Mitch
She was getting better at taking it; during the last ten that night she barely made a sound. My hand hurt pretty good by the time I was done, so I can imagine what her ass felt like. We went to bed after that, and for a long time I lay awake in the darkness, thinking about what had happened earlier.
After a while I heard something, just a small sound, and when I listened harder I realized it was Krissy. She was crying, trying hard not to make any noise, and Jesus, it hurt me to hear that. I had to clench my fists at my sides so I wouldn't turn over and take her in my arms. I reminded myself that I had to be strong, strong enough to show her who was boss.
Get a grip, man. She needs you to show her who her Master is. Get. A. Grip.
I made my breathing sound slow and regular so she wouldn't know I was awake, and after about half an hour the sounds faded and I knew she was asleep. I turned over and propped myself up on one elbow, looking down at her. Her hair was all tangled around her face and I brushed it away, touching her flushed cheek gently. She was so goddamn beautiful, my Krissy. I loved her more than I'd ever loved anyone, and it scared the hell out of me. That was why I needed this. I needed to know I was in control.
Besides, it really fucking turned me on. Jesus, it really did.
In the morning I woke nose to nose with her, and I gave her a gentle kiss to wake her up. Krissy opened her eyes and smiled at me sleepily, and I cupped her face in the palm of my hand.
"Morning, sweetheart," she said, as if everything was back to normal between us and this was any other day. I smiled back at her. She was so trusting.
"Morning, slave-girl," I said, and the smallest look of discomfort flitted across her face; she had probably just remembered how sore her ass was. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"
I knew she did; it was the first thing she did every morning. Krissy nodded.
"Ask me," I told her, and she did.
"Mitch, can I go to the bathroom?"
I shook my head. "No. Not until I'm done in the shower."
I could see that it was on the tip of her tongue to protest, and I gave her a warning look. Her gaze slid over my head, and she gave a little sigh.
"Okay," she whispered. "But can you hurry? I have to pee really badly."
I reached between us and pushed my hand against her lower belly, and she gave a frantic cry and tried to pull away.
"Don't ask me things like that," I told her. "I'll take as long as I want."
I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, starting the shower and making sure it was good and hot before I stepped inside. I took my time, letting the spray beat down on me, steam filling up the bathroom, and after about twenty minutes had gone by I could hear Krissy at the door.
"Can I go now?" she asked, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. "Mitch, please, I really need to go ..."
I took another five minutes, getting out of the shower and toweling off, and when I finally went over to the door and unlocked it, she was shifting from foot to foot like a first grader. It was pretty damn cute, actually. I looked her with a half smile.
"Something wrong, Krissy?"
She gave me a strained smile. "I have to pee, honey. Can I please go now?"
I stepped out of her way. "Be my guest."
She hurried over to the toilet and lifted the lid. Then she looked over at me and hesitated. I raised an eyebrow at her and she said, "Aren't you going to leave?"
I shook my head and leaned against the wall, watching her. I knew how much she hated having me in the bathroom when she was going; it was another test. She looked at me in embarrassment for another half second, and then need outweighed her pride. She sat down and I could hear it when she began to go. Krissy looked away from me the entire time, her face red, and for some reason it really turned me on.
When she finished she wiped herself and stood up again, flushing the toilet, and I came over to her.
"That's a good girl, Krissy,' I told her, and she looked at me.
"Everything?" she asked, and a rush of heat swept over me that made me grab her, not gently. I pulled her against me, taking her hand and putting it on my erection.
"Absolutely fucking everything."
Then I pushed her down onto the floor in front of the shower and fucked her as hard as I could. When we were back in the bedroom, getting dressed, I decided to lay out a few more ground rules.
"No more panties," I said to Krissy casually, and she looked over at me, startled. "And I hate those fucking pantyhose you wear. I want you to get garters and stockings. Today."
I waited to see what she would say. Krissy stood indecisively beside the dresser, a pair of panties in one hand and pantyhose in the other.
"But Mitch, I have to wear decent things to work -" she began, and in a few seconds I was beside her, a fistful of her hair wrapped around my hand.
"You have to wear what I tell you to, Krissy. Got it?" I pulled on her hair, just a little, and her eyes filled with tears.
"I don't like this anymore," she said, and I laughed; I really did. Did she think she still had a choice here?
I batted the undergarments out of her hands and pulled her over to the bed. I pushed her down onto it and got on top of her. I had my clothes on; she was still naked.
"I want you to explain that to me," I said to her, and the deceptive softness in my tone prompted a look of fear in her eyes.
"Explain w-what?" she stammered, and that fear was good: it was really fucking good. I put my hands on both side of her face, trapping her, and I could feel it coming off her in waves. I began to get hard again.
"What you meant by what you just said," I told her. "You don't like this anymore? What don't you like anymore, Krissy?"
My hands tightened just a little on her temples and she gave a gasp. Christ, I was iron now. I could see we were going to be spending most of our time fucking if it kept up like this.
"I'm not sure I like you being in charge of me," Krissy whispered, her eyes wide and pleading, and I let the challenge in the words take over.
Time to show her whose boss wouldn't you say, Mitch?
"Oh, Krissy baby," I whispered back. "It's too late for that, and you know it. Who do you belong to?" She only hesitated for a moment.
"You, Mitch," she told me, and kissed me. "I belong to you. But I'm scared. Do you want me to be scared of you now?" I shook my head.
"No, baby, I don't, but you have to know who's in charge here, and it's not you. Understand? Do what you're told and you never have to be afraid."
She looked up at me, those green eyes hesitant and a little resentful, and I had to reach down deep to overcome the impulse to beat it into her.
Take it easy! I told myself, feeling my control slip at the look in her eyes. This isn't about abuse. Just control, remember?
"Do you promise?" Krissy asked, and I nodded. "Do you still love me, Mitch?"
I kissed her hard at that. "Jesus, you know I do, baby," I told her, and she smiled in that way that drove me wild.
"All right," she said. "As long as you love me."
***********
Part 7 - Krissy
I DIDN'T WEAR PANTIES TO WORK THAT DAY. The fabric of my slacks rubbed against my sore ass all day, and I knew that it was exactly what Mitch wanted: for me to be aware of my punishment; to know what a bad girl I had been. I could hardly focus on anything. My mind was so full of thoughts of what had happened the night before that I found myself staring into space for long periods, wondering just when it was that my entire way of thinking had changed.
I don't really want to be a slave! Do I??
The thought kept running through my mind, teasing the edges of my thoughts, and every time it did a memory of his voice and the rough touch of his hands (or his belt) would get me hot and a little shock of lust would go through me.
What's wrong with you, K? Seriously, just what the fuck is wrong with you?
I didn't really want to think about that one too long. Did I have some masochistic tendencies that I hadn't been aware of until now?
Obviously, you twit. Why else would it turn you on to have such a sore ass?
It was impossible to deny. Even though it was painful and irritating, every time I sat down I remembered the determination with which Mitch had wielded the belt and the forceful way he had spoken to me, and every single time it ignited a firestorm of desire inside me. By the end of the day I was unbearably horny, and I wished that I didn't have to stop at the mall before going home.
Mitch had ordered me to buy stockings and garters, and I didn't want more punishment, even if it did get me hot; my ass was sore enough. When I got to the lingerie boutique I picked out the prettiest ones I could find, hoping he would be pleased with my choices. Then I got into my car and drove home, praying the entire way that he would be in the mood to fuck me. As I got out of the car and made my way to the front of the apartment building, I remembered I wasn't allowed to ask, and I felt a sense of desperation. What about my needs? My desires?
The rapidity with which this question was answered was more than a little unnerving, and the voice I was starting to call my inner slave spoke inexorably.
Easy. Your desire is to please him. Period.
I unlocked the apartment door with fingers that trembled, almost hoping that he wouldn't be home, but when I heard jazz on the stereo and smelled something spicy cooking, I knew he was. The instant he heard the apartment door close behind me Mitch came out of the kitchen and over to me, and when I saw the look in his eyes (fuck I want to fuck right now) all my feverish brain could think was: yes oh yes please -
Mitch grabbed me and I dropped my purse and the bags I was carrying; he took no notice. He slammed his hand against my ass, hard, and the shock of pain that shot through me was orgasmic.
"Goddamn you, Krissy," he growled, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling my face toward his. He kissed me hard, and the desire inside me overflowed. I flung my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him, kissing him back passionately. He allowed the embrace for a moment, and then reached up and took my shoulders in his hands, pushing me away with such force that I fell backwards and landed on my wounded behind.
I looked up at him, confused and a little frightened, and before I knew what was happening he was beside me on the floor, pushing me all the way down, his fingers tearing at the fastening on my pants.
"Mitch, what - " I started to say, and he stopped the words with another savage kiss.
"This is all I've been able to think about all fucking day," he told me, getting my pants undone and beginning to push them down. His hand caressed my bare hip briefly before resuming the task of getting me naked, and his touch sent a convulsive shudder through me. "Get these fucking pants off before I rip them off."
He got off me long enough to undo his own jeans and I pushed my pants the rest of the way down with trembling fingers. Mitch reached out and pulled them off and when he fell on top of me I could feel his cock against me, hard and ready. He took both my wrists in his hands and imprisoned them above my head, glaring into my eyes.
"You love it, don't you?" he ground out as he rammed himself into me, and the ecstasy that shot through me made a coherent reply impossible. My eyes closed and my head tilted back as he pounded in and out of me, and I came again and again, not even trying to stifle the cries that rose to my lips. I could feel it when Mitch expanded, and I opened my eyes and looked at him, loving the agonized expression that always accompanied his release.
"Jesus, Krissy - " he groaned, and drove my hips into the floor as he climaxed. He finally released my wrists and I slid my arms around him and held him tightly as he collapsed on top of me. His breathing was harsh in my ear and I smiled, loving the feel of him inside me. After a moment he raised himself up on his elbows and looked into my eyes, and I was dismayed to see not tenderness but that ominous determination.
"Go and get the chair," Mitch said as he pulled out of me, and panic infiltrated the delicious sense of satisfaction that had filled me, ruining the moment. He got to his feet, pulling his jeans up and leaving me to go into the kitchen.
What did I do? I thought as I stood up, fighting back tears. He practically raped me! I didn't ask for it!
That doesn't matter, K. Just go and get the goddamn chair because he told you to. And while you're at it, take off the rest of your clothes.
The inner slave spoke implacably, and I bent and retrieved my pants from the floor and turned to go into the bedroom. Once inside I quickly shed my blouse and bra, tossing them on the bed. Then I went over to the dresser and picked up the chair. At the touch of the wire back desire wound its way through me again, and shame filled me as I carried it out into the living room.
Mitch was standing in the middle of the room, and when he saw that I was naked a pleased smile curved his lips. In one hand he held his belt, the buckle penduluming back and forth in a sensuous arc, and without a word I came over to him, placed the chair in front of him, and bent obediently over its back. I could feel his hand caress one buttock lovingly, and he murmured, "You're such a good girl, Krissy, you're such a good, good, girl ..."
Then why are you punishing me? Why, Mitch?
Then he stepped back and brought the belt down on my ass so hard and so suddenly that I forgot to count; the pain that blazed through me was incredible. The belt snapped against me a second time, harder, and I uttered a wavering cry. Then Mitch's voice was in my ear, and I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.
"What are you forgetting, Krissy?"
He bit my earlobe and I sobbed, "I'm sorry - uh, two."
Mitch chuckled gently. "No, no, baby. We have to start all over again, remember?"
It took all my self-control not to shriek out loud, and when the belt came down again I almost screamed the word.
"One!"
He made me count to ten, and by the time he was finished I was crying helplessly, certain I was bleeding again, wondering if he would ever let me heal.
"Thank me, Krissy."
I drew a shuddering breath and did as he said. "Thank you for punishing me, Mitch."
Mitch leaned over me, and his weight against my back was small comfort.
"I don't want to have to remind you to thank me again, Krissy. If I do, it'll mean ten more the next time. Understand?"
I nodded. "Y-yes, Mitch, I understand. May I please get up now?"
"Yes, you may." At his tone, magnanimous and complacent, anger shot through me, but I suppressed it immediately.
Bad girl. You deserved it, and you know it. He decides when to punish you. It's not up to you to ask why.
I stood up slowly, reaching around and touching my ass with hesitant fingers. When I brought them back up and looked, they were smeared with red, and I struggled with the tears for an endless moment, knowing he was watching me. It took all the control I had, but I managed to stop crying, and when Mitch put his fingers underneath my chin and lifted my head I stared at him through the prisms I refused to allow to fall from my eyes.
"Don't you want to cry, Krissy?" he asked in a curiously tender voice, and I shook my head.
Good girl. Be a good girl.
"You don't want me to cry. It upsets you."
For just a moment Mitch was unable to suppress the astonishment that spread across his face. He stared at me and then jerked me toward him, kissing me hard.
"Oh, Krissy ..."
He seemed unable to complete the thought, and I whispered, "I want to be a good girl, Mitch."
He crushed me to him, grabbing my ass in both hands and squeezing hard, and I stifled my cry of pain and held him, feeling proud.
That's a good girl, Krissy. That's a good, good, girl.
I was quiet during dinner, and Mitch didn't try to draw me out. He seemed preoccupied himself, and I ate mechanically, trying to become accustomed to the fact that I had accepted my new role as his slave. I shifted periodically, attempting to get comfortable, but it just wasn't possible. Any pressure on my ass made it hurt unbearably, and finally I looked over at Mitch and asked softly, "Can I please stand up?"
He looked over at me in surprise, a slow smile curving his lips.
"Why, Krissy?"
I could feel my face grow hot with shame. "Because it hurts to sit down."
I spoke in a low voice, looking down at my plate, and after a moment he slid his fingers under my chin and tipped my head up.
"What was that, Krissy? I didn't hear you."
I forced myself to look in his eyes. "It hurts to sit."
Mitch appeared to consider my request, and then he nodded.
"Go ahead. You can stand if you want."
I got to my feet and picked at the remainder of my meal from a standing position, feeling shame and excitement in equal measure. Even though it was humiliating to stand, knowing that I was forced to do so because he had punished me, the act of humbly requesting his permission had brought out desire in me, that desire I couldn't seem to control. I tried to finish my dinner but I had lost my appetite, and at last I put my fork down and just stood, feeling like an object as Mitch watched me while he continued to eat.
"What's the matter, Krissy?" he asked. "Why aren't you eating? I made this just for you."
It was red snapper, beautifully blackened, with a delicate rice pilaf, and normally it was one of my favorite meals. Now, however, my stomach seemed to have shrunk to the size of a pea, and I whispered, "I'm not hungry any more."
I struggled with a sudden urge to cry, feeling, for just a moment, as if I was teetering on the edge of control. Mitch caught my eye again and looked at me with that calm determination.
"You'll eat it if I tell you to, won't you, Krissy?"
I nodded silently, and to my horror a tear slipped down my cheek and off, dripping onto the floor. Mitch pushed his plate away and got to his feet, coming over to me and taking me in his arms, and I melted against him gratefully, so glad to be touched with what felt like love that I could have burst into a rage of tears.
"Show me what you bought today," he murmured in my ear, and squeezed me briefly. After he released me I led him into the bedroom and showed him the garters and stockings I had purchased that afternoon, and he nodded as he looked at the lacy underthings, smiling.
"Nice, babe, really nice."
Mitch came over to me and kissed me on the temple. Then he pointed to one of the garters; it had white lace around the top and brass clips to hold the stockings. "I want you to wear this one tonight. No panties."
Tonight? Why tonight?
I looked at him in dismay as he went over to the closet, opening it on my side and searching through my clothes until he found what he was looking for. He came back toward me carrying the shortest skirt I owned, a denim scrap that barely covered my behind, and a terrible suspicion began to dawn in my mind.
It's his poker night! He can't be serious, he's not going to make me -
Mitch handed me the skirt. "And put this on. With the white scoop neck blouse."
I spoke before I thought about what I was saying.
"But isn't it your poker night tonight? Here?"
My voice rose slightly on the last word, and he smiled, a predatory smile that made me back up a step.
"You catch on fast, Krissy. Yeah, it's poker night, and Rob, Gareth, and Sean are coming over. I want to show you off."
I could feel the color drain from my face and I stared at him in disbelief. When all this had been in the privacy of our home it was one thing, but parading around in front of his friends, with my ass looking the way it did? That was something else!
"Oh Mitch, I can't - "
Before I could complete the sentence Mitch's hand was heavy on my shoulder, and he looked at me warningly.
"You can't, Krissy?"
His voice was deceptively soft, and I had to resist the urge to pull away. "There's no can't, baby girl. You do what I tell you. Why do I have to keep reminding you?" He jerked me around and slapped me on the ass, and I suppressed a scream.
"But in front of your friends?" I whispered, beginning to cry. I knew he wouldn't like it, but I couldn't help myself. "I'll look like such a whore - "
Mitch pulled me to him and kissed me hard.
"Don't you fucking say that."
He looked into my eyes, and his were serious and loving; my heart contracted, and something deep inside me wailed in agony. "You couldn't look like a whore if you tried. You're going to look sexy and gorgeous. Now go and get dressed."
Mitch released me and pushed me away from him gently, and I went over to the bed, where he had tossed the skirt. He left the room to clean up the remains of dinner, and I slipped on the garter and a pair of sheer stockings, going over to the mirror to look at myself.
Whore, my mind whispered. Tail for sale. And all his friends are going to know it.
I twisted around and looked at my ass, attractively framed by the garter. It was red and streaked with welts that stood out clearly; they looked very painful. I reached for the skirt and pulled it on, pulling it down to try to make it cover as much as possible, but I knew if I bent over in the slightest I would be on display. The thought was both humiliating and curiously arousing, and I pushed it away and went over to the dresser to get my prettiest pushup bra and the blouse he had demanded I wear.
When I was dressed I went back out into the living room. Mitch was sitting on the couch, watching the end of a baseball game. I came over and stood in front of him, and he just looked at me, his eyes growing heavy with desire at the sight of the stockings and the length of leg that protruded from underneath the short skirt. My breasts were pushed up, looking two sizes bigger than usual, and the low neck of the blouse showed them off to full advantage.
"Turn around." Mitch's voice was slightly breathless, and I smiled to myself as I turned for him, sticking my ass out just the slightest bit.
"Christ."
I could hear Mitch getting to his feet and when his hands landed on my waist they were hard and possessive. "I can't believe how fucking sexy you look." He jerked me against him, and I could feel his hardness against my ass. "God, I want to fuck you right now."
His hands slid up my waist to my breasts, and he buried his face in my neck
"Fuck me, Mitch," I whispered, and his hands tightened convulsively. When he let me go and I heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt, I smiled again.
You might be the slave, K, but his chains are just as tight, and you know it.
Read Lessons 8 & 9 here
Originally Published June 2006: Sexy, Strange & Strangely Sexy