Ruth Visits Her Master

Ruth stood at the screen door to the old clapboard house, composing herself before ringing the door bell. Behind that door was the answer to her deepest needs, the fulfillment of her darkest desires. Once she rang the door bell, her friend, her lover, her Master would open it, and she for the next hour she would again walk a path that left her sexually and emotionally fulfilled.

To most of the people who knew her, Ruth was a conventional, well brought up Jewish girl. She worked as a lawyer, had a husband and a kid, looked after her family and cooked them meals. And most nights, she quietly screamed in frustration.

Because, under that pretty, prim exterior, there was a hungry submissive slut who wanted to be dominated, to serve, to be fucked in every way imaginable, to be the focus of a man's sexual control.

It had been worse before she met him, her Master Boaz. In the early days when she had started to be aware of this wild side of herself, she had no knowledge of BDSM and the D/s scene. Her fantasies were disconnected images of sex, rough dirty sex, or she would see some image and freeze, falling into a space where time slowed down and her cunt tingled.

Once, she had been looking on the net for a present for her in-laws and she had seen a little brand for marking steaks with a monogram. And she had slipped into her special space, biting her knuckle, whimpering to herself as she imagined being marked by some faceless man who owned her completely and used her frequently for his sexual needs.

She would log into chat rooms and describe herself as a sexual innocent, and then encourage the lonely men she met to describe their fantasies and she would encourage and respond until they believed she really was their little cum whore who loved to dress up as a cheerleader and suck their frustrated cocks.

But, this was never enough; it never reached her where she was. Nobody really wanted to listen to her, to fulfill her fantasies.

And then she had met him, the man who turned he tables on her, who encouraged her to talk of her dirty little secrets. As he listened, as he encouraged her and affirmed her, she spoke of her imaginings and the intense finger fucking orgasms they brought her. She would describe the images other men had fed her that then fuelled her pocket rocket masturbation; the images that made her fuck her cunt with the vibrator until she exploded like a star shell, crying out in ecstasy as her body shuddered and writhed.

At first they had merely talked. He had described to her what a submissive was, and she saw herself. He described himself as a Dominant, and she saw in him her salvation. He described the ways of the Dominant with a submissive, and she melted inside and begged to be allowed to be that with him. And, to her joy and happiness, he said yes, and collared her as his own submissive.

Of course, talking and fantasizing was never enough, though it had helped her to gain control of a life which had been falling apart as she chased her secret sexual highs. As soon as she submitted to her Master Boaz, she had found a peace and centering that amazed her. He cherished her, he valued her, he advised and guided her. And in this way, they fell in love and became even closer, building up the trust that allowed them both to open up their secret hurts, fears and hopes.

But she wanted more, much more. So they met, finally, and over the space of several months, she had discovered how wonderful it was to be this man's pet, his slut, his obedient submissive.

Now, when her vanilla life became too much, when the demands others placed on her were overwhelming her, she had someone to turn to who knew her and accepted her like no one else.

And so, that morning, at 10:00am she had phoned her Master.

"Master Boaz. May I be allowed to visit you today?"

When the question was addressed like this, they both knew that she was in need of a session, of the release of a scene.

"Certainly my pet."

As always, His British accent made her knees go weak and long to kneel to him.

"What time will I expect your arrival?"

"If it pleases you Master, at midday."

"That will be perfect my dear. I will expect you then"

And with that, he rang off. Neither of them needed to say any more, and Ruth began to allow the prospect of being with her Master to thrill and tease her until her panties were wet and her nipples aching in their stiffness.

The two hour wait was such a sweet torture, such an agonizing increase in tension. But she relished this as much as his hand, the paddle or the crop which he used to mark her bottom.

Now, here she was, at his front door. In her mind she was already starting to be Ruth, his eager slut submissive, but there was still more of the path to walk before she was ready for both of them.

He opened the door and smiled on her. Dressed in pale chinos and a blue open necked shirt, he was slim and alert, his eyes watching her intently and missing nothing. There were times when she could hardly stop herself from kneeling to him at this point; she was always so full of love and desire for him. But instead she dropped her eyes submissively, and walked through the door, heading straight for the dungeon he had built for them in his basement.

Down the stairs and at the doorway to the softly lit room, she stopped and looked in, her cunt leaking at the thought of the pain and pleasure waiting for her inside.

To one side there was a four poster double bed, draped with light muslin. However, a closer inspection would also reveal heavy rings set at the top of the posts from which she could be suspended. Other rings and chains were fixed at each corner, and there were further rings at the feett that allowed her to be held bent over the mattress, her feet on the floor, her upper body pulled flat onto the covers.

She smiled as she remembered one scene where he had fixed her spread eagled, standing on the floor at the foot of the bed, facing up to the pillows where he sat. She had been blindfolded, but she knew he was delighted to see her firm breasts pulled up, her wet cunt exposed, and her body available to him. He had spent ages flicking the tip of a schooling whip over her breasts, nipples and pussy until she had broken. At that point she had begged him with tears to fuck her tight arse hole. He had done just that, her still tied up, and as he had shed his seed into her rectum, he had triggered her own violent and pent up orgasm with his fingers on her clit.

She turned away from the bed and walked towards the far wall, feeling the slight give of the dojo matting covering the floor. Heaters kept the temperature comfortable, allowing them both to spend as much time as they wished naked in that room, whatever the temperature outside.

At the wall, she looked at the collection of toys he had displayed there, each on its own hook, available for instant use. There were his collection of floggers, some with turned wooden handles, others with handles of studs and leather strips. The softest flogger was a fur tail, and they went up in severity from suede and horse hair tails to long leather thongs with multiple small knots tied in each strand.

She stroked the implements, imagining the thud and sting of each on her flesh, imagining the pain and rush of wetness they brought. And inside, she slipped further and further into her submissive head space.

She looked at the paddles; some wooden, others of leather. One of them she took down and smelled. The scent of oiled leather never failed to make her catch her breath and twist her gut in expectation. With reverence, she placed the paddle back in its place. What she wanted, needed, was a toy with more bite that this.

She moved along to his canes and riding crops. The previous night she had felt a yearning for the fierce sting of their impact, the raised wheals and intense high they gave. She stroked each one lovingly, caressing them with the same care that she gave to her Master's cock, her bottom lip caught in her teeth in anticipation.

She chose a red and black braided crop with a large leather tongue at the end. As she took it down she felt a sense of rightness in her, a settling of her mood. This was to be her Master's implement.

Carefully, holding the crop across her palms like a priestess carrying an offering, she carried it to a table to one side of the door way and placed it there for Master Boaz to pick up when he so desired.

She returned to the center of the room, facing away from the door, and undressed. She removed the wrap sweater and the light silk camisole. She had not worn a bra that day, relishing the feel of her hardened nipples with their rings stroking the cool fabric of her top. She unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the ground, then slipped the lacy wisp of her thong over her hips and down her thighs until she was entirely naked, her shaven cunt glistening with her arousal. Only her high heels were still on, and she stepped out of these, touching the floor with her bare feet like a temple dancer.

As she turned round, she saw him standing there, his arms crossed, watching her. From his smile she could tell her was pleased with what he saw. She blushed at his frank stare and the obvious bulge in his pants, and she dropped to her hands and knees where she stood.

He picked up the crop, noting with approval her choice, and walked over to his slave where she knelt waiting for his attention. She swallowed in nervousness, hoping that he would be pleased at her preparations, wanting to please him in every way.

He leaned down and stroked her with his empty hand.

She felt his fingers move down her neck and down the bumps of her spine towards her bottom. Once there they traced the curves, sliding between the half moons down her crack, over the dry pucker of her anus and across the wet slickness of her sex.

His fingers now damp with her, she felt her flank being stroked and then a hanging tit cupped and squeezed. Her nipple nuzzled into his palm, sending tingles to her dripping honey pot.

The leather tongue of the crop traced the same route, down her back and sliding between her arse cheeks, rubbing her anal ring and swollen split peach. Ruth whimpered at his delightful torture, wanting so much more, yet obedient to his patience.

"Is there something wrong, my love? Something you need?" He asked, even though he knew exactly what she needed, why she was there.

"Please, Master," she whispered.

"Please...what?" he asked again, teasing her honey pot with the crop.

"Please, spank my bottom, Master." She asked louder this time, because she knew he wouldn't let her whisper her request.

"And why should I spank you, my little slut, though I admit you have prepared yourself for me very nicely. But I have work to do,"

He spoke sternly, straightening up suddenly.

"Why should I use this crop on your bottom over and over until your bottom is laced with red marks, and you are wet with lust?"

Her vagina was now aching and practically sopping wet with anticipation. He had drawn out each question, each touch, to make her weak with desire and need. She took a deep breath.

"Because I will open my arse for you, and let you fuck me there."

"Let me fuck you there? Why you little slut," He chuckled to himself. "your arse...your cunt...your mouth...they are all mine to fuck as I please. Do you understand?"

He sounded angry, but was pleased that despite how desperate she was to be soundly beaten on her exposed bottom, she was still his delightfully cheeky slut.

"Yes sir." She purred, and arched her back slightly, in the hopes that it would tempt him.

Suddenly without warning,

CRACK

The crop struck her bottom hard and she moaned with pleasure.

"Naughty, naughty slut," he said, amused by how wound up she was, "so very tense."

And again, suddenly,

CRACK,

and again, she became even wetter and moaned louder.

She bent forward further onto her forearms, her bottom thrust up into the air, her legs spread slightly so he could see the ripe fig of her sex between her legs.

"Oh my little slut, but we have only just begun." He ran the crop between her legs and she groaned in frustration.

"Please master," she begged.

"Please, what, my slut?" he asked gently.

"Please let me cum," She whimpered.

CRACK, another blow with the crop, closer but not touching her pussy.

CRACK, he struck the other cheek, again close to but not touching her pussy.

"My poor, poor slut. You should know it is not about what you want."

"Please...give me..." She began again.

CRACK. "Yes?"

"Please give me your cock, Master."

CRACK "Where shall I give it to you, my slut?" CRACK.

"In my...honeypot?" She had been driven so wild, that she was struggling for words.

CRACK. "Sorry?"

"In my..." she winced at having to say the word..."cunt."

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. "Try again, my little slut."

"In my...ass." She could barely breathe, she wanted to cum so badly.

CRACK. CRACK. "No, my poor, tense little slut. Try again."

"Please fuck me.." CRACK. CRACK. She struggled to think of the answer, and then she remembered, CRACK. "wherever..."CRACK..."you please, Master."

He stopped, put down the crop, and gently stroked her hair.

"Good girl," he said.

And then he gently rubbed her bottom, now laced with a network of red lines.

"My poor dear."

She whimpered at his gentle knowing touch. In one quick move, he scooped her into his arms and took her to the bed, setting her down at the edge before him.

She unzipped his pants as quickly as she could, wanting his cock, needing his cock.

Now that his cock was freed, and seeing her wet swollen little cunt so open for him, he knew he couldn't wait any longer to fuck her.

His cock slammed into her, hard and unrelenting, and she practically orgasmed at the first thrust, so desperate she was for this hard fucking.

"Yes...my slut..." he grunted, as he pounded his cock into her, feeling the depths of her hole, the quivering walls of her pussy.

"Fuck me, Master" She cried out, as her entire body shook as she came, waves of pleasure rocking her body.

"Fuck...Master...give me your cum." And with her orgasm, his cock could no longer hold back.

"Oh FUCK you hot little SLUT" he shouted and his pounding got harder and harder until with one final thrust, he shot his load into her with desperate spasms, and collapsed next to her.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of them catching their breaths, resting against each other.

And then he turned to her, kissed her nose and asked

"Shall I get us some lunch then?"