He selected a long, whippy cane from the umbrella stand he kept just inside the front door for precisely this purpose. He stepped around in front of the bound girl and held the cane to her lips. “Kiss it,” he commanded.
She kissed it and then lifted her head as best as she was able. “Please, Sir. I’m sorry the dildo fell out. I tried my best, I promise. I—”
“Your best wasn’t good enough today. I know you’re sorry, but you still have to be punished. You do want the cane, don’t you?”
“I…” she sighed. “If it pleases you, Sir.”
“No, I’m asking if you want it. You know you displeased your Master by failing to obey my command. You know you deserve to be punished, but do you want it? Answer yes or no.”
He waited while she struggled for the correct response. Of course, there was only one response available to her. She was forbidden the luxury of refusal. She knew that, knew it only too well. But the cane was the one thing she had yet to fully accept. She had continued to resist him, still terrified by its wicked cut, even though he’d only drawn blood once, and that time by accident.
He prodded her side gently with his foot. In a kind voice that belied his sadistic intent, he said, “Answer me. Do you want to be caned by your Master? Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she finally whispered.
Thrilled, Mark replied, “Good girl. Yes, you want it. You want it because I want it. That’s all you have to know. Ever.” He bent down, drawing the stiff rod across her bare back. She flinched but, of course, could not get away.
“There, now, my love,” Mark crooned. “It’s not as if you didn’t earn this. You brought this entirely on yourself with your lack of control. Now take it bravely and it will be over before you know it.”
He brought the cane down on her offered ass, catching both cheeks at once, painting a white line that quickly darkened to red.
Alana screamed, her hands clenching into tight fists above her cuffs.
He whipped the cane against the backs of her thighs, and then added a few more welts on her ass. The last one he aimed vertically across her bared, spread cunt and asshole. The stroke was lighter, of course, but hard enough to produce a long, loud wail that didn’t stop for several seconds.
Satisfied, Mark left her bound to the stool while he went to put away the groceries. When he released her from the stool, he pushed her to her knees in front of him. Pulling out his rigid cock, he forced it between her lips. Taking her head in his hands, he thrust in and out of her open mouth with long, smooth strokes until he spurted down her throat. After tucking his cock back into his jeans, he wiped away her tears with his thumb. Patting her on the head, he said, “Go freshen up. I’ll make us some dinner.”
After dinner, they watched a football game on TV. Mark wasn’t really paying too much attention to the game, distracted as he was by his footrest. Alana was on her hands and knees in front of him, her back supporting his feet. Her breasts hung down like delicious fruit begging to be plucked and suckled. Her ass cheeks were pleasingly splayed, revealing the sweetly pouting pussy lips between her legs. Christ, she was perfect.
Mark finished his first beer and reached for another from the small cooler he’d brought from the kitchen. He popped it, took a long drink, and set it on her back. “Make sure you don’t spill it, slave,” he warned her.
She’d only been down there for maybe thirty minutes when she shifted her weight, almost upsetting the beer near his right foot. “Whoa,” Mark said sharply. “Watch yourself.”
“Please, Sir,” she whined. “I’m feeling very stiff. My knees hurt.”
Mark pursed his lips. “If I let you up, you’ll have to pay the price for failing to be my proper footrest. It’s your choice. Endure a little longer, or take your just punishment.” His cock hardened with anticipation as he waited for her to choose.
Alana fell silent, apparently weighing the unfair choice offered her. She managed to stay still for another twenty minutes or so, but eventually she began to tremble as her muscles strained to support her. His beer can wobbled.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
All at once, her arms gave out and Alana fell to the ground, the beer can falling with her, spilling into her hair and onto the nice carpet. Alana lay in a heap, too exhausted even to wipe the beer away.
“Get up,” Mark commanded sternly. He stood, nudging her side with his foot.
Alana made an effort to rise, but fell back down, clearly exhausted. He almost felt sorry for her.