Sir and Little Girl… Aftercare

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Rising to his feet, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa.

Her eyes unfocused, limp as a rag doll in his arms, she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Blissful, in her dreamlike state of calm and peace, feeling herself floating still. Euphoric. Her mind gloriously quiet and empty.

Gently laying her down and covering her with a fleece throw, he smiled down at her, feelings of tenderness and love overwhelmed him. His Baby Girl never let him down. Pride swelled in his chest as he looked at her, taken aback by her delicate beauty and her strength. He had never known another woman as strong and as submissive as her.

She was His. She had offered herself to him completely and unreservedly and he never took that gift for granted. He respected her always, even when he was disrespecting her.

He brought over a basin of warm water and a soft flannel and began to wipe the mascara and tears from her face, whispering soothing words of comfort to her as he cleaned her. Delicately rubbing arnica lotion into her skin, where her bruises were starting to spread, and cradling her in his arms, he felt her begin to stir and come back into herself.

She opened her eyes, her vision started to clear, she became aware of his low, gentle voice and his touch, “Baby girl, Daddy loves you,” and saw him smiling down at her, peppering her face with butterfly kisses as she purred and moaned.

“Here, drink,” he offered her a glass of watered down juice and helped her bring it to her swollen, bitten lips. Wincing as the glass pressed against her torn lip, she sipped slowly at first, then greedily gulped down the sugary liquid as she realized how thirsty she was, juice running down her chin. He used the flannel to mop it up as she caught her breath.

Her throat felt raw and she was beginning to feel the sting of the welts from his belt across her ass cheeks, shifting her weight slightly to relieve the pressure on them.

“I’m so proud of you Baby, thank you for that. You are the best Good Girl. You gave me so much. I love you,” stroking the hair from her damp face, wanting to comfort her and let her know how much he adored her.

Her knees raw and throbbing, hips bruised from being thrust against the wooden counter, her pussy tender and burning from his relentless pounding, she felt every single ache, as her adrenaline levels dropped and reality kicked in. She welcomed the pain… a bittersweet reminder of his ownership, his claiming of her.

She knew she would bear the marks of his unique love for days to come and feel the power of his dominance every time she moved.

Her bloodshot eyes met his and she smiled up at him, happy to serve him.

Happy to please him.

Happy to be His.

 –

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Sir and Little Girl… A Bad Day At The Office

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FYI: if rough sex isn’t your bag you’d best move along now…

The door slammed. She heard his keys being thrown onto the console table in the hall and braced herself. Like a tornado, he tore into the kitchen, his face and mood dark as an overcast sky; eyes blazing, jaw tense, mouth twisted into a snarl. She watched his hands drop to his waist as he undid his leather belt, feeling an exquisite blend of arousal and trepidation; a hot, throbbing itch between her legs.

“Turn around. Hands on the counter,” he commanded.

She turned and placed her hands on the smooth oak counter top and bent over, sticking her ass out slightly and tensed herself in anticipation. His hands roughly shoved her skirt up over her hips and yanked down her underwear to her knees.

She heard the crack of the belt cutting through the air before the sting spread across her buttocks, red hot. Biting her lip as the next blow landed, the metallic taste coated her tongue, tears sprung to her eyes. The leather connected once more, this time on her thighs, wrapping around and clipping the front as well as the back, a low whimpering moan escaped from her bloody lips.

He watched the redness rise on her bare ass, felt himself grow stiff and rained down three more blows over her skin, relishing the heady sensations of total power and control that coursed through him.

She was perfect. Always ready to satisfy his needs. His little fucktoy.

Trembling, legs shaking, she clung on to the counter waiting for the next thrashing. Instead, she felt his hand grabbing a tight fistful of her chestnut hair and jerking her head back. She stilled; stayed in the position he wanted and swallowed as she felt the belt snake around her neck, the cool buckle tightening at the nape. Her breathing slowed and became shallower as she surrendered herself to the constriction he applied, eyelids half-closed, mouth open. Her nipples hardened, tingled, ached to be pinched or bitten. The wetness between her legs intensified as she pressed her naked thighs together and squirmed.

Her eyes flew open as she felt his rough, calloused fingers part her thighs and plunge deep inside her. He began finger fucking her; hard, slamming her hips against the edge of the kitchen cupboard. His other hand remained gripping the belt, preventing her from pulling away as he pounded his fingers into her, growing harder and stiffer with every thrust.

The need to possess her was overwhelming.

He needed to claim her.

Use her.

Every orifice.

Everything.

Dropping his hold on the belt, he opened his zip and released his throbbing erection. He grabbed her hip and rubbed it teasingly against her dripping slit.

She was always so ready for him. Such a good little slut!

Thrusting his hips, he entered her, smashing her against the cupboard, his hand in her hair, holding her face pressed down against the oak counter, so he could see one eye looking back up at him, smudged mascara staining her cheek. Pounding into her, releasing the frustration and anger he had pent up inside himself all day. Knowing she wanted nothing more than to please him, to be his little fucktoy, the need to make her totally his once again surged through him.

Pulling out of her abruptly, smirking at her disappointed groan, he spun her around and pushed her to her knees on the hard granite floor. She opened her mouth wide, ready for him and he rammed himself into her, forcing her to deepthroat him. Tears leaked from her eyes as she gagged on his length, looking up at him as he thrust repeatedly into her throat, gripping the back of her head, keeping her from pulling back. He looked down at her, feeling the tightness of her throat around him, loving the agony on her face.

Knowing that he couldn’t hold out much longer, he withdrew from her drooling mouth and pressed her down onto all fours, positioning himself behind her. She raised her ass in offering to him and he spread her cheeks wide. Holding his cock in one hand, he teased her opening with it before slowly pushing into her most private, most intimate place. A groan escaped her lips as she felt him filling her completely; hot and throbbing. Painful, burning, but so, so good.

She wanted to be owned.

Claimed.

Used by him.

It was a deep, primal need in her that only he could fulfil. Her brain fogged, her vision blurred, she was vaguely aware of the sound of her own cries and grunts. She felt outside of her own body; floating, free.  At this moment he could do anything to her and she would permit it.

This was the place she needed to be; no thoughts, no cares, no worries.

Drunk.

High.

Flying through the ecstasy of subspace.

Slamming into her, faster, harder, slapping her ass cheeks, knowing her knees would be raw from the cold hard floor, he felt it overtake him. He bucked and spasmed as he came, feeling the tightening and then the sweet release of his hot load erupting into her.

Sweating, breathless, he lifted up her limp body, his arm cradling her under her breasts, one hand cupping her throat, tenderly resting her head against his chest and whispered in her ear, “My little girl… I love you.”

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Sir and Little Girl… Correction

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Have a Wicked Wednesday! everyone!

“You’ve just crossed the line, little girl.”

His eyes glared across the table at her, burning into her, alighting a heat deep within her, a tightening in her thighs, a tingle between her legs, a flush spreading over her cheeks.

She knew how the night would end… with her naked, marked, bruised, and entirely used.

But not before he disciplined her fully.

They finished their meal without further conversation, the tension at the table palpable, making the pretty young waitress nervous.

He drove them home in silence, she knew better than to try to engage with him. Pulling into the driveway, he cut the engine and turned to her, “Out. Inside, now.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and went into the house, directly to the living room and knelt on the floor, her head bowed, waiting. She listened as he locked the front door, walked through the living room, ignoring her, and went into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, taking his time.

She heard him re-enter the room and kept her head lowered, watching his feet walk around her, circling slowly. Her head was suddenly, roughly jerked back. A handful of her hair painfully wrapped in his fist, her neck straining and stretched, he leaned down, his breath hot on her ear, “What did you do little one?” he growled.

“I disrespected you Sir,” she whispered, a tear spilling from her eye, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. She gasped as his other hand gripped her jaw, squeezing hard and then came the slaps, sharp, across one cheek, then the other.

“You will not repeat that slutty behaviour again, will you?”

“No. I am sorry Sir. I’m so sorry,” she wept, black mascara rivers running into her hairline.

His fingers brutally smudged her burgundy lipstick over her face, “Let’s make you look like the little slut you are!”

“Stand,” he released her hair and she rose unsteadily to her feet, “Strip.”

She immediately unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor, unclasped her bra, stepped out of her pants and stood before him in just her hold ups and black leather heels.

He struck her, a sudden, hard slap across her breast, followed by another, his fingers roughly squeezing and pulling her nipples, stretching them until she felt they would be ripped from her body. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, still red and stinging from his blows. The trail of watery mascara and smeared lipstick ruining her pretty face.

“Go stand in the corner. Face to the wall. Think about what you did.”

Wiping her tears with the heel of her hand, she did as she was told, hating it. She would rather endure a beating than be left, ignored and alone as he settled in his chair to read his Kindle.

He knew this, which is why it was the perfect punishment for her. He smiled to himself as he read his eBook…

Shivering, cold and truly fed up, her legs and feet aching from her high heels, she tried to figure out how long she had been in the corner. She wished he would release her, but she knew she had brought this on herself.

He had read for a while and then left the room, coming and going several times, never speaking to her or acknowledging her presence. She longed for his arms around her, to be held and caressed. To be pardoned for her misdemeanor.

“Well, little one? Have you had enough time to repent?” she startled at his voice and the heat of his body at her back. Nodding her head vigorously, she replied, “Yes Sir! I am truly sorry. Please may I be forgiven?”

Hands gripping her shoulders, he turned her around to face him, “Good girl. Now… I am going to use you, and I am going to hurt you. You will be my little fucktoy tonight,” he grinned wickedly, and she felt the wet heat flare between her thighs again.

  Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Sir and Little Girl… Knifeplay

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She felt the cold of the blade rest against her hip bone. She bit her lip and opened her eyes.

This time he had decided to allow her to watch rather than be blindfolded.

Her wrists were securely bound to the bedposts with metal cuffs. Her legs spread wide, ankles shackled.

Wearing a matching lace bra and thong and nothing else, she lay waiting. Watching him.

His dark eyes narrowed as they met her deep green ones.

The hint of a menacing twitch playing around his lips was all that indicated his pleasure at her anticipation, her uncertainty, her fear. He relished the hardening he felt in his trousers.

Watching her breathing increase; observing the flush that crept along her jawline and over her cheeks; seeing her pupils dilate; the dewy glistening of sweat resting on her upper lip; all combined to create the heady vision lying before him. Flooded with power and lust, his senses razor-sharp, everything around him refocused into slow motion. Hawk-like, no movement or reflex of hers escaped his scrutiny.

There was nothing quite like seeing her scared and unsure of what was about to happen. Except, of course, for the transformation that took place behind her eyes when she realised what was in store for her.

She watched him. A mixture of desire and fear in equal measure making her feel slightly lightheaded, even whilst lying bound and prone on the bed. She licked her lips, tasting the saltiness on her upper lip and felt the wetness between her legs seep through the thin fabric of her sheer underwear. His wrist flicked and the blade severed the thin strip of lace on her hip, then he quickly flashed over to cut the other side, leaving the diaphanous triangle of material resting on her public bone.

A low chuckle from his throat as he traced the tip of the knife over her skin, from one hip bone to the other, up along her stomach and circling her navel, dipping ever so slightly into it and back out to leisurely travel up towards her breasts. Her ribcage expanding and contracting, faster and faster, as her eyes followed the blade’s journey across her pale white skin, watching the faint pink roadmap of scratches it left in its wake. He hadn’t pierced the skin… yet.

He rested the knife-edge flat against her sternum, beneath her bra, between her breasts and he watched her. His vision keenly focused, ears tuned to the sound of her rapid breathing. He could smell the chemicals seeping from her pores, a mixture of fresh sweat, her own special scent of vanilla and toffee, and something else… fear.

A sense of complete concentration descended over him. He twisted the blade, careful not to knick her flesh, but only to snap the bra, releasing her breasts from it and they bounced free.

Using the tip of the knife he once again charted a course, this time around her erect nipples, toying with them, his eyes flicking between his hand and her face to gauge her state.

Her eyes were closed, breathing heavy, face flushed. He breathed her name and she opened her eyes. He raised his eyebrow in a silent question and felt pride when she imperceptibly nodded her consent to continue.

Running the blade down her torso towards the shredded fabric at her groin, he used it to peel the remnants back, revealing her smooth, bare pubis. His breathing deepened with overwhelming desire as he observed her pale white, beautiful mound and her secret pink slit nestled between her velvet folds. She glistened with lust.

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she felt the, now warm, metal flattened against her pussy. Unable to control it, she felt herself starting to tremble. The heat, the throbbing, the wetness between her legs increasing to the point of being almost unbearable.

A small cry from her lips and he growled, “No. You will not come until I give you the command. For that little one, you will pay.”

Clenching the knife handle between his teeth, he roughly tore the sodden scraps from between her legs, rolled them up and prized open her jaws, stuffing her thong deep into her mouth, making her gag. Her eyes momentarily widened in panic and she buckled against her restraints. The metal of the cuffs ripped into her wrists, causing her to subdue her struggles and focus on breathing through her nose.

“Suck, little one. Drink in all your juices and remember, no noise. No orgasm until I say so.”

She nodded, her jaw distended around the gag in her mouth. She could taste the residual laundry detergent and softener mingled with her own flavour and felt the unpleasant dryness of fabric against teeth.

“I think you need some time to reflect on what an impertinent brat you’ve been.”

Her eyes followed him as he walked over to the table and puts the knife down. He turned and came back to the end of the bed, his hands gripping each bedpost and he simply watched her, contemplating her. Drinking in her exposed state.

Taking his phone from his back pocket, he angled the viewfinder between her legs and started taking photos.

Close-ups, long shots of her entire exposed body, close-ups of her face, her eyes filled with tears, mascara running down the sides of her face into her hairline.

“We need a reminder for you of exactly what happens to little girls that don’t listen.”

She nodded vigorously from the bed, her eyes pleading with him for forgiveness. He looked down between her legs again and saw hot wet she had become, her juices dripping down onto the sheet from her lips.

“You love being photographed you dirty little slut. Don’t you? You love showing off your juicy wet cunt, don’t you?”

Arching her back as much as her restraints allowed, she squirmed with desire and need and nodded again, trying everything she could to beg him for release.

Pulling the soggy rags from her mouth, he leaned in close to her, nose-to-nose and repeated, “Don’t you?”

“Yes Sir, yes I do.”

“Dirty little bitch.” His hand struck her across the cheek, leaving a red flush, which made him harder than ever.

Positioning himself at the head of the bed, he undid his flies and stroked his hard, throbbing erection. He slapped her forehead with it lightly and she obediently arched her neck to allow her tongue to run over his testicles and suck them gently. Placing his hands under her shoulders, he roughly hoisted her up further on the bed, leaving her head slightly dangling over the edge, the slight slack he had left at her ankle shackles now straining and stretching her legs uncomfortably.

Lowering himself on to her, he forced his entire sac into her mouth, stretching her lips wide. Her tongue worked on them as he twisted his fingers through her hair.

Pushing her head away and releasing himself, he bent forward slightly and she began to hungrily lick and suck on him, working up and down his shaft, along his ridge, applying firm pressure, before taking his velvety tip inside her lips and running her wet tongue around it, tasting the clear liquid beading there.

Grabbing her breasts, squeezing them and twisting her nipples painfully, he rammed his cock into her mouth, forcing her to deep-throat him. Gagging, tears streaming down her face, she sucked and squeezed him with her mouth and throat muscles, her eyes always locked on his, as he demanded.

Pinching and slapping her swollen nipples, he thrusted himself into her, fucking her mouth with unreserved brutality. Feeling the exquisite tightening in his balls, he growled the order, “Now! Come now!” and bucked violently as he erupted inside her throat, just as she spasmed involuntarily against her restraints, pulling against them and chafing her delicate skin.

Looking down at her as she licked and swallowed every last drop, he released her wrists from the cuffs before moving down to repeat the action at her ankles.

He ran a soft cloth under the hot water at the sink in the corner, he wrung it out and, climbing onto the bed, he tenderly cleaned up her scraped and bloody skin where the metal had dug into her.

Her eyes glazed, limbs ragdoll loose, she flopped her head against his chest as he cradled her in his arms and stroked her face.

“Good girl,” he soothed, his voice filled with love and pride.

a special shout out to my technical advisor! who wishes to remain nameless… you rock!

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Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.