Your wish to have me and Pari to your disposition tonight is unfortunately not feasible, because I need Pari for my basement-whore and a few other things.
So the slave will fail and will be punished.
Unfortunately, this happens to every slave, and even more often at the beginning.
I will make the best of my experience as a slave and all its nuances.
Punishment is just as much a part of it as the excitement of being humiliated and used.
I just hope the choking games get boring to you in the long run so that I can really enjoy everything. Every time I brought tears to my slave's beautiful face, I was curious about the feeling that accompanied the tears.
Did she hate me, did she desire me, did she seek revenge, or was it just pure pleasure for her to submit completely to my will.
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
My fascination with exercising absolute power over another person is only surpassed by the need to have the strength to submit unconditionally to another person.
I have already achieved and mastered the first part of the equation several times.
Time for the second.
I take the car and drive quickly to the house. You won't leave the house, so you won't even notice.
Pari waits as usual and looks at me with her beautiful eyes. She flinches slightly when she notices the marks still visible on my face, but she is smart enough not to ask anything.
“Cut me some cucumber peels and put them on my face,” I say and lie down on the bed. When she returns and tends to my reddened face, I let her tell me about my basement slave.
The men have been rough on her, and Pari offers me the video, but I don't want to see it now. I have to take care of it, of course, but right now I have an idea that will fulfill both my master's wishes and my duties.
“Soak the light whip in blood ointment. I will need it. Then prepare the basement-cunt down there for a trip. Clean her. Anal too. I want her clean. Then I need a mask without eyes and a dog leash.”
“Yes, Mistress,” says Pari because she knows I can't see her through the cucumber slices on my eyes.
“But first, I want you here. Undress and bring the nipple clamps. The weak ones and the strong ones.”
Pari is unsettled because she has seen the marks on my face. I have to reassure her and make it clear that everything is as it should be.
She is the perfect slave, but sometimes it is hard to maintain the distance between us. Her astonished look on my face alone would justify a punishment. She has nothing to be surprised about. Her job is to serve and obey. Now she expects to be punished.
But I would not be a good mistress if my slaves knew what to expect and could prepare themselves for it.
The fact that they recognize their mistakes does not mean that they will not be punished for them.
What I enjoy is surprising them.
The way I punish my slaves is my decision alone. What is important to me is that they never know what to expect.
If I feel like whipping Pari until she cries and I'm tired and sweaty from swinging the whip, then I don't need a reason. I can do it on any given day because I just want to.
Today I want something different, and I'll take it.
She expects to be punished, I never do what my slaves expect of me.
That's why they love me so dearly.
I hear her come back and stand next to the bed. She waits until I decide to give her my attention.
Finally, I think she's waited enough and that I'm relaxed enough and sit down.
The cucumber slices fall onto the bed and onto the floor. I pay them no attention.
“Come here,” I say softly, and Pari stands between my spread legs with her hands clasped behind her head.
Her skin is shimmering brown and beautiful. A light shade from which her very dark nipples stand out clearly. I stroke her stomach and breasts.
Her nipples start to stand up.
I grab her around the waist and pull her close to me. Then I lick her breast because her skin is so soft. She moans softly. I didn't order her to be quiet, so she can let her feelings run free.
As long as she doesn't talk.
That requires my permission.
I lightly kiss her nipple and then suck it into my mouth. It tastes delicious, like a ripe strawberry. I love feeling her nipples getting hard in my mouth. I suck harder, and Paris' body trembles slightly in my hands. I trace the outline of her ribcage with my thumbs and then slide my hands over her hips to her round buttocks, which I gently knead.
When my sucking almost reaches the pain threshold that I know so well, Pari moans with pleasure and presses her breast against my sucking mouth.
I enjoy the taste a little more before switching to the other nipple. I want them hard, sensitive, and aroused so that the nipple clamps can take full effect.
She knows that too, she knows what's coming and that it will hurt.
I'm going to give her the choice today, at least partially.
I am curious to see what she will choose.
When both nipples are plump, hard, and red, I hold out my palm for her to hand me a nipple clamp.
One of the strong nipple clamps lands in my palm, and I wait in case Pari wants to change her mind. She looks lovingly into my eyes.
I open the clamp and place it around her left nipple.
She trembles, she can't help it.
You can't suppress your body's fear of pain. I look up at her and see her biting her lip.
Then she puts her hands behind her head again. I know she is clutching her braid tightly, like a lifeline, in anticipation of the pain she fears and yet so desires.
I look at her beautiful face, which is about to contort in agony, and let the clamp snap shut.
Then I hold Pari by the waist so that she doesn't buckle.
Her big, dark eyes fill with tears that slowly roll down. A gasp and a whimper escape her beautiful mouth, and the sight could hardly be more beautiful.
“Maybe the easy one after all?” I ask, but she can't answer yet. I hold out my open palm to her again.
Pari takes the strong clamp.
As it closes around her nipple, she lets out a long, heart-rending howl of pain.
I get wet.
I hold her until she can catch herself again and until her breathing stops in little frantic bursts, and then I turn her towards the bed.
I slowly sit her on the bed and spread her legs. Then I press my hand on her upper abdomen and lay her flat.
Her pussy glistens wetly in front of my face. Delicious and seductive.
I look at her for a while, fascinated, and then pull Paris' pelvis a little closer to the edge of the bed so that I have full access.
She's mine, and she wants it.
When my thumbs touch her outer labia to open them fully for me, Paris' body twitches uncontrollably for the first time.
She's afraid of coming without my permission and disappointing me. That's exactly how it has to be. She'll try to think of something else, to distract herself, to think only of the pain.
But she won't succeed under my tongue.
Her pussy glistens even more, and I dip my tongue into the nectar. Pari whimpers and moans as the tip of my tongue licks her labia and slowly begins to approach her clit.
Her thighs twitch as if they want to close and hold me forever.
Yes, that's exactly what gets me so hot. Her attempts to keep her self-control.
Futile attempts, as we both know.
I now lick her with relish and feel between her vagina and her anus with my index finger.
She moans as she tries to get my finger inside her, even though she knows full well that she will come and be punished hard.
She doesn't care.
The pleasure is greater than the fear of punishment, the fear of pain, and the fear of disappointing me. But she won't disappoint me today.
I don't need a reason to punish her. Just my own desire to do so.
“Take off the clamps,” I command her seeing how difficult it is for her to understand the command. Her brain is only focused on the sensations in her already-twitching body and only translates other commands with a delay. Nevertheless, she obeys and removes the clamps. A new wave of pain pours over her like hot lava and mixes with the pleasure, which is now increasing exponentially with the pain.
“Come for your Mistress, slave,” I say loudly and immediately insert two fingers into her more than ready, wet pussy while I suck on her clit.
Pari gasps, whimpers, screams, and moans all at once as the orgasm shakes her tender body, and I greedily drink her now fully flowing juice.
The orgasm must be extremely strong because she tries to wriggle out of my grip.
I hold her tightly and plunge my face into her middle, and my fucking fingers move quickly. She cries and twitches, and I can tell by the contractions of her pussy that she's going to come again.
I suck and lick and would love to thrust my whole hand into her.
She opens her legs even wider, and I slowly push my third finger inside her. She moans so lustfully that I push in, and my little finger stretches her further, which must be painful.
Pari screams, and it is pure pleasure that I hear coming from her mouth. I carefully move my hand in and out, and the sounds coming from her mouth tell me that we are in for a new experience.
Just the thought of stretching her little pussy so far that my hand could fit inside makes me moan loudly too.
Before I do anything that could hurt her at the moment, I pull my four fingers out of Pari and look at the opening I've never seen so big.
Then I playfully lick her clit again, just to feel her hypersensitive body twitch.
She tries to whisper “Thank you” but is too weak.
I get up and look down at her from above. Even if she wanted to close her legs now, her body still doesn't obey her.
I leave the room.
According to Paris' report, the whore almost gave up after the treatment by my two employees. They did really bad things to her and told her that her boyfriend never wanted to see her again.
Her boyfriend, according to an email from my coworker, gave up half an hour ago after seeing the video of her and being told the same thing. He actually buckled when he was raped by two men. Well, it wasn't really rape at all. He agreed to it.
It only seemed to bother him when he was told that his girlfriend was now convinced that he was not only a dog fucker but also gay and would be disgusted by him for the rest of her life.
People were so gullible.
I could assume that the basement whore wouldn't make it through the day and give up, but I still had to help her decide.
My husband and what I would prepare for the two of them were the perfect decision-making tools.
When I notice Pari at the threshold of the open door to the room, I turn around.
“Thank you, Mistress,” she says in a firm voice, looking at me with love.
I nod graciously.
“I will go now. You have about two hours, maybe longer. When I come back, you'll clean me up, including anally, and then I'll need a massage. It's going to be a long evening for me.”