It's past three and I should be asleep. Hell, after what He put me through, I should be exhausted. But I’m not. I ache and I am tender but, even in lingering pain, my body basks in orgasmic afterglow. With such conflicting sensations coursing through me, I cannot hope to sleep.

It’s often like this for me.

So, I lay next to Him as He sleeps. Perhaps I ought to be angry or jealous of His repose, but I simply do not feel those things. Listening to Him breathe gives me comfort. I draw strength from knowing He is there. I also know He won't easily wake. I can touch Him without fear of disturbing His slumber. Sometimes, I put my hand on His chest simply to feel the strength of His heartbeat.

I smile into the dark. For all my trouble finding sleep, He has no problem at all. I sigh in contentment. He has earned His rest tonight and I’m used to a solitary vigil.

Friday is often the night He sets aside for my needs. He takes my son to my mother’s house so there’s no chance of my little boy hearing his mother scream. It would be bad enough for him to walk in and see me having sex. That’s a fear parents share — but to find me bound and naked on the bed with my man poised to strike me with the whip or crop? No, that would be unthinkable. Better he is safely gone before we delve into the darker side of my sexual desires.

By midday, I knew this night would be a trial. My man had a different look in his eye. The hint of something predatory in His usually passive gaze told me I was in for a long evening. I couldn’t fathom what rule I’d violated but that subtle threat was enough to set my body tingling and turn my pussy into a hot, sticky mess.

By the time He loaded my son into the car, I was certain He could smell my arousal. He kissed me and, using the car's door as a shield, squeezed my ass before whispering, "Be ready for me." Although softly spoken, those four words demonstrated the iron command of His authority. As the car pulled away, my knees became weak and shivers raced up my spine.

With ritualistic care, I bathed with jasmine-scented soap and shaved my legs so that my olive skin might glow in candlelight. I used a fresh razor to ensure I was free of even the slightest wisp of pubic fuzz. He would expect me to be completely smooth. Being in that state also ensured I was as sensitive as possible, but that was a purely selfish thought and one I would be foolish to reveal.

Bathing always gives me time to contemplate what is to come. I rarely know how He judged my behavior for the week. I do know — whether He chooses the pleasure of my toys or the discipline of the crop or strap — it will be... intense.

It shames me — well, almost — to admit my secret hope for the latter. I have a longing for pain and I clenched my thighs at the thought He might judge me deserving of punishment. Memories of the sting keep me wet and I sometimes disobey so He might make my ass red and angry. In those times, a good portion of my back and thighs often share the same rosy hue before He is done with my torment. Only then does He use me to sate His masculine needs. Sucking in a breath, I sponged my legs, thinking how it all feels.

It is going to hurt: I have no delusions. Pain is pain, and whether it is inflicted as corporal punishment or as part of a kinky sexual game, it hurts. The glory is how it calms me, removes stress, and arouses me like nothing else can. The pleasure is incredibly intense, creating a sense of euphoria I can barely explain.

Those thoughts made my belly flutter with need. My nipples hardened into dark buds and my pussy oozed with desire. I longed to rub my clit and steal an orgasm before He returned, but Master has a standing order forbidding me this pleasure as my time approaches.

Clean and dry, I applied makeup. Not much, only enough to make me feel sexy. Mascara highlights my expressive eyes and He loves it when tears run down my cheeks in thick, dark streaks.

My pampering complete, I wrapped my petite frame in a robe and awaited his return. During such times, my discipline falters. That night, I contemplated meeting Him at the door, perhaps on my knees, to welcome Him home. He, no doubt, would have seen such independent thinking as a challenge, but I might have done it anyway but for the text He sent:

'I'll be home in five, Cottontail. I want you naked and face-down on the bed, a gag in your mouth and a pillow under your hips'.

"Oh, my God.” My heart leapt into my throat as I sprinted to our room. Quickly, I hung my robe and retrieved the ball-gag from our toy drawer. Wetting my lips, I studied the purple ball and its leather straps. Wearing this meant He expected me to scream. Fingers trembling, I fastened the straps behind my head. With the ball firmly between my teeth, I placed a thick pillow on the bed and laid face down. Then, I waited for Him to find me…

As my allotted time expired, He entered our home and, through the open bedroom door, I heard Him moving about in the living areas. This went on for several minutes, but the sounds remained muffled. He was testing my patience, making me wait. As difficult as it was, I remained still. Going to Him or calling out would add disobedience to my list of transgressions.

Eventually, He entered the bedroom. Passively as I could, I watched Him standing in the doorway, gazing down upon me. I was sure the only movement He could detect was the rise and fall of my chest as I breathed deeply.

I often wondered how He felt when He saw me like this: my small and compact body, nude and vulnerable, waiting nervously for Him to do those things I've begged Him to do. Now, at this moment, was He truly trying to unnerve me? Or simply enjoying the erotic sight of my submission?

"Damn, Tori, you are such a beautiful little thing. How badly am I going to have to mark you tonight, eh? I have to tell you, Cottontail, I've come to enjoy making you writhe."

Being gagged, I couldn’t answer but the needy look in my eyes must have told Him all He wanted to know. Taking off His shirt, exposing heavily tattooed arms and chest, He tossed it aside. Master is a very large man and His skin rippled as He flexed muscular arms. God, I love watching Him do that. He is an incredibly sexy man.

Approaching my side of the bed, Master ran fingertips up my thigh, feathering them over my firm, clenched ass. Even under this gentle touch, I couldn't help but tremble.

Master smiled. "Are you afraid?" He asked, His fingers chasing a shiver up my spine.

I could only nod.

“Good. You really should be… this time."

His soft voice trailed off without further explanation. His gentle demeanor calmed me, but those two words, “this time” carried a threat. The raw anticipation had my body reacting to His loving caress as if it might instantly turn into white-hot pain. I cringed and squirmed at every gentle contact, but I should have known better than to expect such an obvious change. Master has become very deliberate with our ritual and rarely allows me to predict what He might do next.

I watched Him, anxiously gauging His movements for some sign He would begin. He lit candles as He circled me, leaving a trail of yellow flames in his wake. After a moment, He shook His head and pulled a length of black cloth from a pocket.

"This won't do. I can't have you watching me, can I? It might ruin the mood."

A moan escaped my gagged lips.

“Shush.”

He looped the blindfold over my head and secured it over my eyes. Usually, He used white gauze for this, leaving me to make out vague shapes and shadows dancing in the candlelight. It was something I found almost more frightening than being blind because I could see a burning candle poised to drip hot wax onto my sensitive breasts or thighs. This time I wouldn’t see anything.

I still heard Him moving about the room but had no way of knowing what He was doing. His touch was warm as it traveled over my body, rubbing me gently. Then, as a hand slid down my right leg, He lifted my ankle and kissed my heel with tender care. He was lulling me into a peaceful state but my heart pounded. That's when I felt a rope being looped around my ankle.

I tried to resist, but He held me in His iron grasp until I felt the knot bite into my flesh. God, I longed to watch, but I could see nothing. My hands were free — but, if I pulled off the blindfold, I would pay dearly for that disrespect. This may sound strange considering how much I needed His discipline, but part of the game is trying not to give him a reason to punish me. I wouldn't be whipped without cause. Unless He could find some way that I’ve failed or disobeyed, His hand would be stayed.

So far, in the two years we've been letting this drama play out, I've never avoided at least a mild spanking.

At this time, I wasn't sure what He was doing. He’d tightened the knot securely around my leg, but there was no tension at all on the rope. I could still draw my ankles together, denying Him access to my most tender places. That would be both a blessing and a curse.

If that was His plan, I would be receiving no pleasure in reward for my obedience. That thought forced me to whimper. When He walked around and lifted my left ankle, I tried not to resist. Quickly, He tied a similar knot. To my relief, I found rather than being held together, I could open wide. I assumed the rope had been threaded under the mattress and I was spread completely open and vulnerable to anything he might want to do to me.

I struggled, testing my freedom of movement, and I shivered when I realized my pussy and ass were invitingly open to Him. I gripped the sheets with white-knuckled force. When a hand slid up my inner thigh, inching toward my dripping cunt, I couldn't suppress the moan from my breast. Raising my hips, I pulled back to my knees, hoping to bring His touch to my wet and mewling kitty.

I heard Him chuckle at my frustration while His fingers spread and passed around my mound without touching it. I whimpered again, begging for the touch I so desperately craved. That's when His palm landed hard on my ass.

“Unnnh," I screamed through my gag as a second hard swat landed on my exposed pussy. I gasped and squirmed and might have rolled away had my ankles not been so tightly secured. I was shocked and didn’t know what I’d done to provoke Him. I began to curl up when His commanding voice broke through my confusion.

"Did I tell you to rise up on your knees, slut? You know the rules. Yet, with one single touch, I've got you forgetting yourself and squirming all over the bed."

Realizing my mistake, I quickly lay flat again with that damn pillow raising my ass. I feared He would spank me again, but He put my wrists together. I froze as they were tied to the headboard with several loops of cord. Pulled taut, I winced as He stretched me until I was unable to move. I couldn't even begin to roll over and my breasts were crushed into the sheets.

"There, that should keep you where I want you. You won't be running away on me now, will you, Cottontail?"

The ropes cut into my skin and the more I pulled on them, the deeper they bit. I shook my head in acceptance that I was completely at His mercy.

Moments later, I heard Him slide open our toy drawer. Some were meant to provide me with great pleasures, others used to inflict a frightening amount of pain. This was the moment of truth. I hoped He would bring out one of our vibrators — but I whined at the sharp sound of something cutting through the air.

A surge of panic rushed over me as fear of that sound pulsed through my body. I whined again, uselessly squirming as He ran the leather end of the riding crop up my inner thigh. It's cold, rough texture felt stark and unforgiving against my tender flesh. My chest tightened and my breath refused to come as I became torn between fear of the coming pain and my deep-seated need to feel it mark my skin.

I was trembling and the words, Oh, fuck, no. Please don't hit me there, screamed in my mind when he tapped the crop on my cunt. I wanted the scream to become real, but my heaving chest refused to expel my breath, and only a garbled groan escaped my gagged mouth.

For several long moments, He teased my pussy until I was panting with lust. I became confused — how should my body show my torment? — but soon I was rolling my hips toward those rapid taps despite the sting burning into my cunt. I was becoming crazed with a need to come and I ground my clit into the pillow beneath me.

I became obsessed with achieving orgasm as Master allowed me to debase myself for a few wonderful moments. But, before it could rise in my belly, He lashed me hard across my thighs. Gasping, I froze, feeling an angry red line searing into my supple skin.

Master pressed the length of the crop on my ass. "Enough grinding, you little slut. I don't want you coming yet."

My thighs burned from the crop and I whined in despair as much from being commanded to stop as from the sting. Master scraped the coarse leather up my spine to my neck. There, he tapped again.

"So, have you been a good little slut this week?”

The question was couched in softness, belying the harsh reality of my position. For a brief moment, I couldn't process it. But the severity of my correction told me He’d already decided I hadn't. His false tenderness could only mean He wanted to push me to my limits. I wriggled as my fear asserted itself, and I nodded my head, claiming as best I could that I had been a good slut.

I couldn't think of any rule I'd broken or any other way I'd failed Him. I had no idea where He was going with this. I waited nervously while He studied me. Then I flinched and cried out as He slapped the crop against my dripping slit.

"Did you make yourself cum this week? You claimed to be having your period. Did that keep you from dipping your fingers into your wet, little slit?"

Oh my god, I had! Fearfully, I nodded yes, admitting my shame to Him, even though He’d never given me a command to restrain myself or deny my needs during that time. I searched my mind, but couldn't fathom how He could use this against me.

Master must have been expecting this response. Chuckling, He fingered the crease of my ass before continuing. "You made yourself come, didn't you? Yet all week, I had to keep my hands off you. Do you think that was fair? Was that something a 'good girl' would do to her Master?"

With each word, he struck my pussy with the crop, making me squeal as the painful sting burned into my tender and puffy flesh.

"You've been reading dirty stories and playing with my pussy all week, but what of me? I am your man and your Master, and you made me jerk off like a lonely teenager."

Shit! What could I do? I couldn't even speak.

He'd found His reason and I knew what I'd feel next. The crop tapped harder along my thighs until He raised it — and swatted my ass! The stiff shaft bit mercilessly into my skin and I jerked at its burning touch. He'd let me have it hard and my heart pounded as I realized what I’d brought upon myself.

"You do have a sexy ass, Cottontail," he said in a deceptively calm tone. "I was entranced by it the first time I saw you. I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until I’d fucked that tight little hole. I must say, I never get tired of making you squeal."

A cold fluid poured into my crease as Master spoke, and I felt the smooth end of a butt plug push between my cheeks. “I'm going to fuck this ass tonight, but I want you nice and loose when I do."

It was so humiliating to lay there while He worked that bulbous plug into my hole. I felt it stretching me as the increasing thickness squeezed up me. I wanted to kick my legs, but the ropes held them tight. "Ugh, fuck," I groaned as the widest part passed through my ring.

Master twisted it several times until it was wedged firmly in my butt. Despite my humiliation, I felt my cunt flood.

"Mmm, yes, you do have an amazing ass. What do you think, Cottontail, should I make it hot for you?"

Master paused, giving me the opportunity to use my safe word. Part of me wanted to utter that word and escape my torment. I was terrified at what He planned and my ass was already on fire. But, despite my...