Master’s Command: A Day of Torment and Ecstasy
The city skyline stretched out like a jagged crown under the relentless afternoon sun, but Marcus barely noticed. His corner office in the gleaming high-rise tower felt more like a cage today, walls closing in with the weight of endless boardroom battles. He leaned back in his leather chair, the scent of polished wood and stale coffee hanging heavy in the air. At 42, with his broad shoulders straining against the crisp white shirt and dark hair cropped close, he commanded respect from the suits scurrying outside his door. But right now, his mind wasn’t on quarterly reports or hostile takeovers. No, it was on her—Elena, his fiery little pet, the one who turned his frustrations into fuel.
He’d woken her before dawn in their sleek downtown loft, not with gentle kisses, but with rough hands pinning her wrists above her head. Flashback to that moment: her blue eyes fluttering open, blonde waves tousled across the silk sheets, her full curves arching instinctively under his touch. She’d been his for two years now, ever since she wandered into his life as a freelance illustrator pitching designs for his company’s ad campaigns. What started as flirtatious banter evolved into this—total surrender. Today, he’d decided, would be her trial by fire. No warnings, just commands whispered hot against her ear as he buckled the remote-controlled plug into her tight ass, the one that hummed like a devil’s whisper.
Marcus glanced at his phone, thumb hovering over the app. Elena was en route, her flexible schedule as an artist allowing these spontaneous “visits.” He smirked, remembering last night’s frenzy: her bound spread-eagle on the king-sized bed, cries muffled by his belt as he pounded into her from behind, denying her release for the fourth night in a row. Her pleas had been music—desperate, broken. Orgasm denial was his favorite game, sharpening her edges until she begged like a wild thing.
The elevator dinged softly down the hall, pulling him back. He tapped the app, sending a low vibration pulsing through her. Imagining her squirming in the confined space, cheeks flushing as strangers milled about, made his cock twitch against his slacks. Time to begin.
Chapter 1: The Arrival Ritual 🔥
She knocked—three sharp raps, their secret code echoing like a heartbeat in the quiet corridor. Marcus’s voice rumbled low, “Come in, pet.” The door swung open, and there she was: Elena, 28 and radiating that mix of innocence and sin. Her blonde hair cascaded in loose curls down her back, framing a face that could launch a thousand sketches. She wore a fitted black dress that hugged her ample hips and D-cup breasts, the fabric whispering against her skin with every step. Black stilettos clicked on the marble floor, and he caught the faint scent of her vanilla perfume mingling with something muskier—arousal, already building.
“Kneel,” he ordered, not rising from his desk. She dropped gracefully, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind her back. The plug’s hum was subtle, but he amped it up via the app, watching her thighs clench. A soft whimper escaped her lips, but she bit it back. Good girl. Marcus circled her like a predator, the air thick with tension. He could hear the distant hum of the city below, taste the salt of anticipation on his tongue.
“Strip for me. Slowly.” His voice was gravel, laced with hunger. Elena’s fingers trembled as she unzipped the dress, letting it pool at her feet. Underneath, nothing but lace—black thong and bra, both sheer enough to tease. Her skin glowed pale against the dark fabric, nipples hardening into peaks under his gaze. He reached down, yanking the bra away with a snap, exposing her heavy tits. They bounced free, and he pinched one roughly, eliciting a gasp that tasted like sweet surrender.
“You drove here with this in your ass, didn’t you? Feeling every bump, every turn.” He tugged her hair, forcing her chin up. Her blue eyes met his, wide and pleading. “Yes, Sir. It… it made me so wet.”
Marcus chuckled, dark and low. “Show me.” She spread her knees wider on the cool floor, the carpet’s fibers rough against her skin. He hooked a finger into her thong, pulling it aside to reveal her slick folds, glistening. The scent hit him—earthy, intoxicating. He slid two fingers inside her pussy, feeling the heat clench around him, the plug pressing from behind. “Filthy slut. Already dripping for your Master.”
He withdrew, sucking his fingers clean, the tangy flavor exploding on his tongue. Then, from his desk drawer, he pulled the leather harness—studs gleaming like stars. “Arms up.” She obeyed, and he strapped it on, the leather biting into her soft flesh, a collar circling her throat with a heavy D-ring. He clipped a chain to her nipple rings—pierced last month in a private ceremony—and gave a sharp tug. Pain flashed across her face, but so did desire, her breath hitching like a sob.
“Crawl to the desk. Your place awaits.” On all fours, she moved, ass high, the plug’s tail visible, vibrating faintly. Marcus watched, cock straining now, the sound of her knees scuffing the floor a symphony of submission. This was just the start; the board meeting loomed, and she’d be his secret weapon beneath it all.
As she settled under the massive oak desk, knees on a cushioned mat he’d placed earlier, he sat, spreading his legs. “Mouth open.” She complied, tongue out, and he unzipped, freeing his thick cock—veined and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip. He guided it past her lips, the wet heat enveloping him like velvet fire. “Suck, pet. But no swallowing yet.”
The first call buzzed in—investors droning about projections. Marcus muted himself, gripping her hair to fuck her throat shallowly, the gluck-gluck sounds muffled by the desk. Her saliva dripped warm onto his balls, the vibration from the plug syncing with his thrusts. He could smell her—sweat and sex—taste victory as he held back, edging himself while the voices yapped on.
Chapter 2: Whispers of Control 💋
Half an hour in, and the meeting dragged like molasses. Marcus’s frustration boiled—some pencil-pusher questioning his strategy, voices tinny through the speaker. Under the desk, Elena’s mouth worked tirelessly, her tongue swirling around his shaft, lips stretched wide. He tapped the app, cranking the plug to a pulsing rhythm that made her body jolt. He felt it through her throat—a gag suppressed into a hum.
“Deeper, slut,” he murmured, unmuting briefly to bark an answer before diving back. His hand fisted her curls, shoving until his balls pressed against her chin. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the musky tang of his arousal, filling the confined space. He could hear her labored breaths, feel the quiver in her jaw.
Flashback intruded: their first office escapade, a year ago in a dingy conference room after hours. She’d been nervous, a newbie sub, but he’d coaxed her onto her knees with promises of pain and pleasure. Now, she was a pro—his masochistic muse, craving the burn.
The call ended; he pulled out, strings of spit connecting them. “Up. Bathroom break—but keep the plug in.” Elena rose on shaky legs, dress haphazardly thrown on, chain dangling between her breasts. He led her by it down the hall, the elevator ride a torture. In the mirrored box, he pinned her against the wall, hand slipping under her skirt to finger her clit roughly. “Don’t cum. Or you’ll regret it.”
Her walls fluttered, so close, but she nodded, biting her lip bloody. The doors opened on his private bath—marble and steam from the sink. “Pee, then bend over.” She did, skirt hiked, ass presented. Marcus watched the stream, crude and intimate, then lubed a larger attachment for the plug, swapping it with a twist that made her cry out. The new one was ridged, thicker, stretching her further. “Back to work, pet.”
Returning, he added cuffs—soft leather binding her wrists to the desk’s underside, forcing her posture arched. Blindfold next, black silk plunging her into darkness. “No peeking. Just feel.” Her world narrowed to sensations: the leather’s bite, the plug’s relentless buzz, his cock sliding back in.
A new email pinged—urgent revisions. Marcus ignored it, focusing on her. He yanked the chain, nipples elongating painfully, her muffled moans vibrating his length. “That’s it, take it for me. Your pain eases mine.” The office AC hummed coldly, contrasting the heat building between them. He tasted salt on his lips, from sweat beading on his brow.
Suddenly, a knock—his assistant, dropping files. Marcus froze, cock buried deep, Elena stock-still. “Leave them outside, thanks.” Voice steady, heart pounding. The door clicked shut; he laughed softly. “Close call, slut. Reward time.” He fucked her face harder, hips snapping, until he neared the edge—then stopped. Denial for both, sharpening the ache.
As the afternoon wore on, he multitasked: typing reports one-handed, the other stroking her hair reassuringly. Her submission was a drug, high better than any deal closed. But he sensed her fraying—small tremors, the way her body leaned into his touch. Time to push further.
Chapter 3: Breaking Point Inferno
The conference room awaited, glass walls overlooking the bustling streets below. Marcus had planned this—moving their “session” for the big pitch. “Follow me, on your knees if I say.” Elena, still bound and blindfolded, crawled behind as he led her through a side door, the carpet muffling her progress. The risk electrified him; anyone could glance in.
Inside, the long table gleamed under fluorescents, chairs empty save for his at the head. He uncuffed one hand, attaching it to a table leg instead. “Stay low, pet. Mouth ready.” The video link flickered on—partners from across the country, faces stern. Marcus presented, voice commanding, while below, Elena’s lips nursed his cock like a lifeline.
They grilled him on risks, numbers flashing on screens. Frustration spiked; he grabbed the chain, twisting until tears soaked her blindfold. “You incompetent fucks,” he muttered off-mic, yanking harder. Her pain mirrored his rage, a cathartic release. The plug thrummed at max, her pussy untouched but weeping juices onto the floor—he could smell it, sharp and needy.
Mid-sentence, he muted, gripped her head, and thrust deep—five brutal pumps, balls slapping her chin. She choked silently, throat convulsing, but held. Unmuting, he continued, cock twitching in her warmth. “Gentlemen, let’s cut the bullshit. This deal closes today.” Confidence surged, her service his armor.
A break in the call; he pulled out, spinning her around. “Ass up.” Blindfolded, she presented, and he drove into her pussy—raw, no prep. The stretch was exquisite, her walls gripping like a vice, plug amplifying every inch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, pounding hard, the table creaking. Skin slapped skin, wet and obscene, her cries bitten back into whimpers.
He didn’t let her cum—edging her with shallow thrusts, then deep, grinding against the plug. “Beg silently, slut. Show me with your body.” She bucked back, desperate, sweat slicking her curves. The room smelled of sex now, overpowering the sterile air freshener. He tasted her neck, salty, before pulling out, leaving her empty and aching.
Call resumed; he zipped up, resuming his seat. Under the table, she panted, body quaking. New scene: he slipped a vibrating clamp onto her clit, remote-synced to the plug. Dual torment—pulses alternating, driving her mad. He watched her via a discreet mirror, lips parted, body writhing subtly. Pride swelled; she was unbreakable, his perfect canvas.
Hours blurred—another client haggle, her mouth back on him, swallowing pre-cum as reward. Flashback: their hotel getaway last month, where he’d whipped her till welts bloomed, then fucked the marks. That resilience fueled him now. As the sun dipped, casting orange glows through the windows, he decided: tonight, release. But not yet.
Chapter 4: Descent into Madness
Back in the office, shadows lengthening, Marcus untied her partially. “Stand, pet. Time for inspection.” Elena wobbled up, blindfold off—eyes glassy, pupils blown wide with subspace haze. Her blonde hair stuck to damp skin, tits marked red from clamps, pussy swollen and slick. He traced a finger down her spine, feeling goosebumps rise, the touch electric.
“How do you feel?” Crude, but caring edged his tone.
“Achey, Sir. So full… please.” Her voice cracked, hoarse from use.
He smirked, pushing her against the window—city lights twinkling below like distant fires. “Look at them. They have no idea you’re my whore up here.” Cold glass kissed her breasts, nipples scraping painfully. He dropped to his knees, a rare vulnerability, burying his face in her cunt. Tongue lashing her clit, tasting her essence—tart, addictive. The plug buzzed against his chin as he sucked, fingers probing her ass around it.
She moaned, hands fisting his hair, the city a blur. “Sir… gonna… ” He stopped, standing to slap her ass—hard, echoing cracks. “No. Hold it.” New torment: he added weights to the nipple chain, heavy bells that jingled with every breath, tugging relentlessly.
They moved to the couch—a leather beast in the corner. He sat, pulling her onto his lap reverse cowgirl. “Ride me, but slow.” She sank down, his cock splitting her, plug making it impossibly full. Up and down, torturously measured, her moans filling the room like smoke. He gripped her hips, bruising, guiding the pace. The leather stuck to their sweat-slick skin, creaking rhythmically.
Dialogue flowed raw: “You love being stuffed, don’t you? My dirty girl.”
“Yes, Master! Fuck, it hurts so good.”
He amped everything—plug, clamps vibrating now too. Her body seized, on the brink, but he pinched her clit, halting the wave. Tears streamed; she collapsed against him, sobbing softly. Comfort came in strokes—his hands gentle now, whispering praises. “Almost there, pet. Endure.”
Flashback to their beginning: a rainy night in his car, her sketching him nude, leading to first kiss, first command. That spark had grown into this inferno. As night fell, he carried her to the desk, laying her out like a feast. Fingers, tongue, cock—teasing every inch, building her higher without crest. The office clock ticked mercilessly, scents of cum and leather thick.
Finally, a new scene: he blindfolded her again, leading her to the balcony—private, but exposed to the wind. Chilly air pebbled her skin as he bent her over the railing, fucking her ass around the plug’s removal—lube-slick, burning stretch. Stars wheeled above, city noise a roar below. “Scream if you must,” he urged, but she bit her fist, taking it all.
Chapter 5: Release and Ruin
The drive home was agony for her, ecstasy for him. Marcus had reclined her seat in the sleek black SUV, skirt hiked, clamps still on, a fresh dildo strapped in place—vibrating low. Traffic crawled through neon-lit streets, horns blaring like accusations. He glanced over, hand on her thigh, feeling tremors. “Talk to me, Elena. How’s my pet holding up?”
“Sir… I can’t… it’s too much.” Her voice was wrecked, body arching. The car’s leather seats smelled of polish and her arousal, windows fogging slightly.
He turned it up, watching her writhe. “You will. For me.” Home loomed—a modern villa on the outskirts, gates whispering shut behind them. Inside, dim lights and the faint echo of their footsteps on hardwood. He stripped her fully in the foyer, body marked like a roadmap of desire—red welts, glistening skin.
Upstairs to the playroom: walls lined with toys, St. Andrew’s cross gleaming. But tonight, the bed—massive, four-poster. He bound her spread-eagle, silk ropes soft yet unyielding. “You’ve been perfect. Time to shatter.”
Starting slow: ice cubes trailed over her nipples, melting into rivulets that he lapped up, tongue hot contrast. Then heat—wax dripped from a candle, blooming red on her belly, her screams raw and real. “Fuck, Sir! More!” Crude pleas spilled as he mounted her, cock slamming home, no barriers.
Pounding relentlessly, he freed the denial. “Cum now, pet. Flood me.” She did—convulsing, squirting around him, the wet gush soaking sheets. Senses overwhelmed: her cries piercing, pussy clenching like a fist, taste of her tears as he kissed her. He followed, roaring release, filling her deep, hot spurts painting her insides.
Aftershocks rippled; he untied her, cradling close. Gentle now, massaging sore muscles, the room smelling of sex and spent passion. “You owned today, Elena. My fierce sub.”
She nuzzled his chest, voice sleepy. “All for you, Master. Always.”
As they drifted, bodies entwined, the city lights faded outside. Torment had forged deeper bonds, pleasure sealing them. Tomorrow? Another game. But tonight, peace in surrender.
