I am eager to be home, for I know what awaits me. My blood is pounding in my veins, my body is aching for action, my mind is racing with my Needs. Needs I must have met. Needs only my good girl can fulfill. I have spent the day masked among my colleagues. I yearn to snatch it off and truly be myself. I crave the satiation of my Hunger. I crave my girl. I crave her eagerness for the darkest expressions of my love. I know I will be harsh with her tonight, but I also know that she will love it, that she craves it. She is mine completely. My breath is hers; my pleasure, hers.
I enter our home. My teeth clench as I maintain restraint. I must have control. I set my purse down on the small table in the foyer. I cannot see her yet, and the anticipation has my blood boiling with need. Restraint, I order myself. Keep your composure. I know she can hear that I’m home. I know that she will be waiting for me. I know that the moment I see her, my Need for her will battle with my willpower. My Need to tear her apart and put her back together. My Need to let my sadism free. I need to see her cry tonight. I need to see her passion. But I will not be a brute about it. I will have finesse. I will prove to us both that I am her Master. Of her body and her mind. Especially her mind.
I inhale deeply. Gather my will and determination. I proceed to the living room. My breath stops. There she is. My world. My collared love. She sits on her shins on the white sheepskin rug to my left. Her back is to the wall, her body facing the living room. I am on her right side, in her peripheral vision. Her head is bowed. Her hair is in pigtails with adorable black bow hair ties. I can see the back of her burgundy leather collar. She is not allowed to look up at me or speak to me until I give her permission. I see her hands twitch on her naked thighs as she struggles to maintain protocol.
I grit my teeth harder as I gaze down at my struggling beauty. I want to grab her by her adorable pigtails and yank her mouth to my pussy. I want to grind it on her mouth and have her fuck me with her tongue. My fists clench. She flinches slightly. She is trembling slightly in anticipation. I usually speak to her by now. I usually touch her chin and look down into her eyes. I usually show her with a fierce gaze how much I need to devour her.
But not today. Today I stand and stare down at her. I know she is struggling to not look up at me. I know she is starting to grow worried. She does not understand the intent behind my silence. Her insecurities must be flaying her. I move to stand in front of her. She can see my black stillettos and the hem of my black slacks. Her breathing is growing harsher. She is going to start panicking.
I have pushed her far enough with my silence. “Keep your gaze down,” I order, voice lower from the restraint I’m exerting. My hands ache to touch her, to sooth her. Usually I do. But not tonight, not yet. Tonight I will test her. Tonight I will test myself.
Her shoulders relax a little. I know she is relieved that I am at least speaking to her. But I know she’s still worried. I want her on the edge. I want to see her fragility. I love her vulnerability. I love that she trusts me to not break her. I love that she is trying to manage her fears.
“Your form is perfect.” I purposefully do not call her by a pet name. I know she will notice this. I know it will eat at her, regardless of the compliment. I know it will tear at her. I know that this is necessary for the purpose of this night. She must be faced with her fears. I must be the one to affirm her strength. I must assert that I am part of her strength. I must prove to her that I still deserve her trust.
“I wonder, though,” I begin, tone cruel, “if all you have done today is sit around.” I see her tense. I feel her need to shake her head, to proclaim all her efforts. But I have not asked her a question yet, and she is not allowed to speak until I do. I feel her pain as she fears that she has failed me. I feel her fear that I will abandon her. It is an unfounded fear after we have proven our loyalty to each other for so long. But it is still a fear within her that I must vanquish. And I must also slay my own fear that she might abandon me if I push her too much or show her too much of myself.
“You are to stay as you are while I inspect your house work. I better find the dishes washed and stacked as I like.” I see her brow furrow with worry. I want to collapse and hug her and tell her she is perfect. I want to soothe her. But I will not. Not yet. I will not be weak. She needs this. I need this. I love her with all I am. I could not live without her. Which is all the more reason for this test. “I better not find a speck of dust. Our sheets better be immaculate. Any failure during this inspection will speak to me about how you truly feel for me. If there are is a single flaw, I will not see it as a mistake this time. No, I will see it as a lack of dedication and love. I hope I see that you love me.”
It is difficult for me to keep my voice strong. It is a challenge for me to be this cruel to the woman who eases the burden of my sadistic Hungers and who loves me with all she is. I can see she is on the verge of tears. Tears that I need to see.
I tell myself again that we both need this and that I am doing this out of love. But as much as I say this to myself, there is still that bottomless pit of sadism in me that is gloating in her emotional pain. Gods, her energy is writhing. Her struggle to not speak is breathtaking. She is so very strong, and yet so fragile. And she’s all mine. I inhale slowly. I will be in control of my sadism. I will make this constructive.
“Stay,” a order firmly. I then turn on heel and begin my ‘inspection’ of the house. I make sure to glance at her frequently to ensure that she is keeping her form and that her head is down. I am amazed that she has maintained her composure. My love for her swells in my chest.
I am strategically quiet. By the time I return to her, I see tears trailing down her cheeks. She is so very afraid that she has failed me. The house is spotless and everything is in its correct place, but I do not say this.
“Rise,” I command. She trembles as she obeys. I see her head twitch as she struggles to not look up at me. If I see her eyes I will be undone. If she touches me, I will lose my composure, grab her by her pierced nipples, and fuck her before the timing is right. But this test is not over.
I do not address her tears. I do not allay her worries. Instead, I hook my forefinger through the ring in the front of her collar, turn, and pull her towards the bedroom. I made the collar myself for her. There is no lock. The ring is the lock, and I welded it shut when I formally collared her. It is a symbol that she cannot escape me. Of course, there is always the chance that my moments of harsh love will make her no longer want to be mine, but the chance is small. I would not have collared her if she did not accept me for who I am, or if my love did not liberate her soul.
I release the ring once we are beside our bed. “Bend over the bed and clasp your hands behind your back. Keep your head turned to the wall and close your eyes.” She rushes to obey. She still does not know how she fared during the inspection. She is desperate to be my good girl. I love this about her. I love that she still has not broken protocol and spoken. I have tempered her into my perfect submissive. I will temper her more tonight.
She knows to be up on tip-toe, offering her ass and pussy to me. Offering all of herself to me. I hesitate, then spank her right ass cheek as hard as I can. She yelps. I soak in the pleasure of her energy. There is a red welt in the shape of my hand on her ass. My restraint wavers. I grab her ass and dig my fingers into it and jiggle it hard. I love the little noises she is making. Her ass has me enthralled.
I inhale slowly, remove my hands, and step back. I must maintain control of myself. “Stay,” I order. I take a few moments to undress. To slip on the harness and strap-on. To fetch the lube and the black silk blindfold. I return to her side, making sure she does not feel what I’m wearing. I speak as I blindfold her. “You must be wondering what I found during my inspection.” I tie the knot tight. “You must be worried about me seeing if you’ve grown lazy.” I trail the backs of my fingers gently down her spine. I play my fingertips along the beautiful welt on her ass. “Do you think I found dust? Answer me yes or no.”
She swallows hard. “N-no, Master,” she whispers, timid and afraid. My heart clenches in my chest. That word. That title. Even though I am being cruel, even though I have made her cry already, still, she loves me. Still, she wants to belong to me.
I raise my hand and smack her left ass cheek just as viciously as I did the right. She cries out in pain. I love her.
“Do you think I found the carpets dirty?” I ask, hand raised.
I bring my hand down on her right ass cheek.
“Do you think I found the dishes in dissarray?”
She sniffles. “No, Master.” Her tone is begging me to tell her if I did. Begging me to give her peace of mind. She is not sure if I am spanking her as punishment or because I want to and she is mine to use. I know she is aching to know.
I crack my hand down on her left ass cheek, hard enough to bruise my hand and make her scream. I almost sway on my feet by how moved I am. She is letting me do this to her. She is trusting me so very much.
I step behind her. “Do you think you are my good girl?” I whisper.
She hesitates. I watch her emotions pass over her face. I watch the fear win. She begins sobbing. She needs so very much to be my good girl and I have yet to affirm that she still is. “I am your good girl, Master,” she weeps. She finally breaks protocol and gives more than a yes or no answer. I wanted this. “I washed the dishes, thinking only of you. I vaccumed the carpet, thinking only of you. I made our bed, with you in my heart. I am your Good Girl, I swear it, my Master, my Love.”
This is what I Needed. This baring of her soul to me. I have broken her down. Now I will put her back together and strengthen our bond. I will show her how much she owns my soul, how much I love her, how she fills the voids in my heart.
I wrench the blindfold off her. Wrap her pigtails around my hand and grip hard as I lean in. My other hand is feeling at her entrance. She is not wet enough. “You are my Good Girl,” I tell her, gazing into her blotchy red eyes. I then pull her head back enough to seize her mouth with my own. When my tongue plunges into her mouth, so too do my fingers plunge into the core of her. The lube on my fingers spreads with each thrust. She is just as hungry for my kiss as I am for hers. We devour each other through the passion of our kiss. It is good, but it is not enough. I have to fuck her. I will go mad if I do not.
I stand upright. Her wrists are still clasped at the small of her back. I grab them tightly with one hand. “You are Mine,” I growl, then push my cock into her. She groans. I soak it in. “Keep your eyes on mine,” I order, then proceed to fuck her within an inch of her life.
She is eager, she is giving, she is desperate to have me own her this way.
“You are mine, body and soul, my Beloved,” I affirm, panting from exertion. “Now come for me. Be my good girl and come for your Master.”
Her orgasm seizes her. She screams and writhes as the pleasure ravages her. Her little death is incredible.
I wait until it passes before I pull out. I shuck off the harness. I crawl into bed. I am near to tears myself. She loves me so much. I feel liberated myself. I am a sadist, but I am not a monster. I cradle her to me. She clings to me and I cling to her as I pet her. “The house was impeccable, my love,” I whisper. “There is no better girl than you.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you.” I can feel her drying tears against my shoulder and I love them.
“I love you, too, my Master.”