Fetish by Faith Cummings

The Wayword Slut

 Layla cracked the whip in the air. She laughed as her slave cringed against the wall she had chained him to. Her long legs reached him in two strides. With a fierce grip, she yanked his head back.
 

“What’s the matter slut, are you afraid?”

 

His face was flushed a beat red. “Yes Mistress,” he admitted.

 

She flicked the whip through the air again. “You should be!” She released his head so abruptly that it fell to his chest. She watched his chest heave from fear. Changing tactics, she reached out and grabbed his balls, twisting them in her grip. “You disgust me slave. Do you know that?”

 

Keeping his head bowed he answered meekly, “Yes Mistress.”

 

Mistress Layla let go of his balls with a sharp slave. She was not at all moved with her slave’s sharp intake of breath. Let him suffer, she thought, he deserved it. She began to pace behind him, her heels clicking against the cement floor of her basement. He held his breath. He knew he was going to suffer. He also knew he deserved it. Paul knew if he dared turn to look at her, he would see a snarl on her face. Her footsteps stopped and he braced himself. Instead of the blow he expected to receive, she kicked a stool over to him.

 

She stepped onto it and yanked his head back again, pushing it against her breasts.

 

“Have you looked at me lately you pathetic slut? Have you?” She demanded.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”

 

“Yes Ma’am?” She pulled his head back so far he almost couldn’t breath. She slapped his face with her tit. “And what do you see, slut?”

 

“A true Goddess Ma’am. One who was born to be worshiped.”

 

“Really? Is that what you see?”

 

“Yes Mistress,” he answered quickly.

 

She grabbed his throat, her green eyes flashing angrily. Her voice was cold. He could hear her frustration with him. “Well then slut, that makes your transgression even worse than doesn’t it? ”

 

“Yes Ma’am, it does. I was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me.”

 

She spat down at him, “You don’t know what you were thinking? I’ll tell you how you were thinking. With your cock. That’s exactly how you were thinking. Do you think you have some kind of prize hanging between your legs, is that it?”

 

“No Mistress.”

 

“No? And yet I walk into a restaurant and I find you there, seated at a table with another woman and flirting with her? You don’t call that thinking with your cock?”

 

“Mistress, please! It was an old girlfriend! It was a stupid mistake to agree to dinner.” His voice implored her to forgive him. Instead she slapped his face. She stepped off the stool and kicked it across the room. Her hand surrounded his cock in a vice like grip and she shook it.

 

“And were you planning to use this?” She barked.

 

“No, that is your cock Mistress.”

 

“Yes, it is. But you seem to have forgotten that. Who knows where this thing has been.”

 

“Mistress, I swear…”

 

“Shut up, slave. I don’t want to hear any excuses out of you.” Mistress Layla began to pace again as she considered what to do with her slave. Her eyes bore into his back. She had obviously been too lenient with him, she decided, allowing him too much freedom. He was going to suffer for that, she thought, nodding to herself.  She was going to teach him to appreciate freedom in the future. If she decided to keep him after tomorrow. She stopped behind him and hit the wall hard with her whip. He cried out and his body instinctively tried to move away. She laughed and hit the wall hard again, just inches from him.

 

“Should I hit you that hard, slut?” She struck the wall again. He flinched.

 

“No Mistress, please!”

 

The whip bounced next to him again, followed by more laughter. The Mistress was feeling better now that she had decided on his punishment.”

 

She tossed the flogger down and pressed her body up against his. He felt the swell of her breasts and the coolness of the PVC corset she wore. Her legs molded to his. Her voice hissed into his ear.

 

“You are going to suffer slave. And if you suffer enough, I may still allow you to wear my collar.”

 

He knew better than to speak. He kept silent. He had made a grave error in judgment when he agreed to have dinner with an ex-girlfriend.

 

Her eyes narrowed behind him. She raised her flogger high over head. There would be no warm up for her slave tonight. The whip cracked against his ass and his body jerked from the force of it.  He pressed his hands against the wall to prepare for the next blow. She had him chained to the wall, arms and legs spread eagle. A spreader bar was fastened between his ankles. He had no wiggle room. His Mistress had been correct. He was going to suffer.

 

She smiled as she saw him brace himself. She brought the whip down on him again with just as much force as the first time. “That should be on your balls, bitch,” she yelled as she raised it again. The whip struck his thigh next. She decided to toy with him. Each time she raised the whip she counted to five. Then, just for fun, she gave him a few lashes in rapid succession. She varied her blows so that he could not anticipate her pattern. She delivered twenty lashes in succession, striking him harder each time.  But her little slut bitch didn’t even whimper. This annoyed her. She flung the flogger down and grabbed him by the hair and the balls.

 

“Aren’t I hitting you hard enough bitch?”

 

“I deserve whatever you give me Ma’am.”

 

“I know you deserve it you stupid slut. But I don’t think I am whipping you hard enough.”  She released him abruptly, “I am just going to have to punish you harder.”

Her hand ran across his cheeks. They were warm and pink. “I am going to have to make sure that you would be too embarrassed to pull your pants down in front of another woman. And until you learn, I am going to have to keep you that way.”

 

“Whip my ass, Mistress, please.”

 

Mistress Layla was about to reach for her flogger, but something bothered her about her spread eagled slave.  She paused to look him over than reached under him and caressed h balls. “Do you know what slave? If I am going to have to waste my time punishing your ass, I want to at least enjoy the view. And I am not enjoying it.”

 

Paul mentally flogged himself for ever even thinking about trying to get into another woman’s pants. He rested his head against the wall. “How can I make the view more enjoyable for you Mistress?”

 

Her laugh was evil, but at least it was a laugh, he thought.  That meant Mistress was enjoying herself at his expense. He heard the sound of her heels and the opening of the mini refrigerator she kept in the basement. When she approached him again, she bent down and caressed the inside of his thighs. She held something cold against them. He tried not to flinch. When she pressed it against his balls, he groaned.

 

“Don’t like that slave? Too bad. You think you have such a hot cock, but I am going to cool it off for you.”

 

He snuck a peek downward and saw that she held a liter of soda to his balls. He gritted his teeth. He was determined to endure whatever punishment she meted out to him tonight. He knew he was a dirty slut. He knew he deserved to be punished harshly. He also knew he acted out at times just to get her attention. He did not want his Mistress to grow tired of him. He stifled a groan as she moved the bottle to his cock. He closed his eyes and shut out what she was doing to him. Instead, he visualized her. His Mistress was a beautiful woman and he was proud to serve her. In fact, he had been stunned and humbled when she chose him as her slave. She was tall, blonde with an hourglass figure. She had an ass even the most straight-laced of men would beg to worship. Her eyes were a brilliant green and her smile, when she chose to honor him with it, could make his knees grow weak. But she was not simply a beautiful woman. And she was not simply a dominant woman. She was also a witty intelligent woman who needed to be challenged. So he challenged her even when he would have been gladly on his knees, worshipping her and thanking her for the privilege of serving her. As long as he continued to challenge her, he would keep her attention. Though she owned him, they both knew she had not completely broken him. Paul planned on keeping it that way. Her voice broke into his thoughts.

 

“Is that cooling you off slave?”

 

“Yes Mistress.”

 

“Humph! Maybe I will send you home with an ice pack in your pants. But for now…” She snapped a parachute onto his balls. She put down the liter of soda and tied a string to it. Then she tied the string onto the parachute, stretching his balls hard. “For now, I am just going to enjoy the view.”

 

He looked down at the bottle dangling between his legs. This time he could not stop the whimper as his balls were fully stretched.  She stood up and lightly kicked the bottle. 

 

“I hope you enjoy that slave,” She reached down and retrieved her flogger. “Now where was I?” She cracked his ass hard. “Do I have your attention now, slave?”

 

He exhaled slowly, determined not to show her his pain. “Yes Mistress.”

 

“Good.”  She was n excellent choreographer. She made the whip dance across his ass like a performance of the Nutcracker. And then some.

 

His head, hands and knees rested again the wall when she was through with him. A thin film of sweat glistened on his body. But he had not cried out, even though his ass burned. He knew it did. She told him how hot it was when she touched it. He had not begged for mercy, though he had been close. Especially when she had traded in the flogger and used a fraternity paddle on him in its place.  She pressed up against him and ran her hands up and down his body. She loved hearing him pant, loved how slick his body was, loved the way his knees had buckled. She pressed her lips against his back.

 

“You are not suffering enough yet slave, “She warned, her voice deceptively sweet.

 

He was careful to make sure his voice remained steady when he replied, “No Mistress.”

 

She taunted him by rubbing her body against his, “I want you to suffer. I want you to know exactly what happens to bad little sluts who run around on their Mistress.”

 

Those words hurt him more than any pain she could inflict on him because he knew he was guilty. He was her slave. He would walk on coals if she demanded it. But he was also a man. She allowed him release. In fact she demanded his cum. In many exquisite ways. In all ways but one. So far she had never allowed her slave to fuck her. And his cock ached for her pussy so bad. So badly he had toyed with the idea of being with another woman just to relieve that ache.

 

She unchained one of his hands from the wall. But she did not grant him freedom. Her hands guided him so that his back was now to the wall. Then she lifted his free arm and reattached it to another O-ring. His Mistress was resourceful. She had made sure she had three rings drilled into the wall so that she could easily reverse her slaves position. She looked him over. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted, his cock hard. Layla ran her finger across his lips.

 

“My poor slave. You could have spent the night worshipping me. But instead you have to be punished. I hope your ‘date’ was worth it.”

 

He looked at her, and hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It wasn’t Mistress. It wasn’t.”

 

She ignored him. Her hands removed the bottle that dangled between his legs. She unsnapped the parachute. She stroked his cock. He watched as she dipped her hand into a jar of lube. She took hold of him again, rubbing her hand up and down his erection.

 

“Such a whore you are. Look at that hard cock. I bet it was hard for your date last night too wasn’t it?”

 

Paul looked down. His cock had been hard last night. But not for his date. It had been hard for his Mistress. “No, Ma’am.”

 

Mistress Layla arched her brow as she looked at her slave. “Now that I find hard to believe. I know what a whore you are. One of your finer qualities is that you always have a stiff dick. You are going to tell me this cock didn’t ache to be inside her pussy?”

 

This time he groaned. He had wanted to slip inside her pussy. He had been celibate for far too long. He loved the way his Mistress played with his cock. He loved how she encouraged him to masturbate regularly.  But that was no substitution for actually sliding his cock into a hot wet pussy. His Mistress was right. He was a whore. He was a slut. His eyes traveled downward to the opening of Her spread legs. His cock twitched under her hand. He unconsciously licked his lips as he lusted for his Mistress. He wondered if she knew how much torment she caused him. As many times as he had served her, she had never worn the same thing. She seemed to have an endless supply of corsets and cat suits designed just to torture him. Her beautiful shaved pussy was always exposed. She made sure it was accessible so that he could worship it with his mouth. His mind had wandered so far that he didn’t realize he hadn’t answered her until she slapped his cock hard.

 

“I guess I have my answer slut.” She turned her back to him, opening a drawer in a chest she had nearby.

 

“No Mistress…” he stopped himself. He was not going to lie to his Mistress. There had been a very real chance he might have slept with his ex girlfriend if his cock had not turned to stone the moment he had looked up and noticed his Mistress and her friend being seated at a table across the room. Paul’s mind raced. The only alternative to lying was the truth.  And the truth was he would have only slept with his ex to appease the hunger he had for his Mistress. The truth wasn’t an option. He hung his head. It didn’t matter which way he answered. He was a slut either way.

 

Mistress Layla was beyond annoyed. No slave of hers had ever dared to be unfaithful. She was very tempted to unchain him and dismiss him from her service and her life. Her hand closed upon an object as she considered her options. She could remove his collar and send him off into the night. She would gain temporary satisfaction by hearing him beg and plead for forgiveness as she cast him aside. She would enjoy the sight of him whimpering as she closed the door on him a final time. In fact, it would give her great pleasure. But that would be too easy. She removed the object from the door and slammed it shut. Up until last night she had been very pleased with him. There was no reason in the world she should be without her chosen slave. When a slave acted out it was up to her correct his behavior. And correct it she would. No slut of hers was going to whore around on her. She would make sure of that. She turned back to him with a sadistic gleam in her eye.

 

He hung submissively against the wall as she approached him. No matter what she did to him tonight it could not make up for the way he had behaved. His body was hers. He wanted her to use it. He did not even look up when she took him in her hand. He simply said, “Use me Mistress. Punish me.”

 

She looked up at her dejected slave. “Oh I am going to use you slave. In more ways than you could ever imagine.”

 

Not daring to look at her or ask what she was about to inflict on him he said, ‘Thank you.”

 

Her hands locked the metal ball stretcher on to him. She tossed the key across the room. Her slave did not respond. She picked up the small plastic bag and scattered the rest of the contents on the floor beside her. Then she started to attach the rest of the pieces. Once she had it in place, she looked up at him. “Get ready slave. Your balls are about to be crushed.” She twisted the screws until she heard him squeal and saw him dance against his bondage. Patting his tortured balls she stood up. His chest heaved as he tried to swallow his moans. Her fingers twisted his nipples.

 

“Like that bitch?”

 

“Yes Mistress,” his voice said otherwise.

 

“Good. That makes me happy.” She twisted his nipples again and he moaned loudly. She smiled. “Now you are finally suffering.”

 

He wanted to tell her his ass was still feeling the effects of her handiwork, but he forced himself to stay quiet. She reached over to the chest and picked up another object, dangling it in front of him. “We both know how much you love these.”

 

He couldn’t help it. He whimpered as he saw the nipple clamps. They were hard for him to take. He twisted as she applied them and he whined as she showed him what she held in the palm of her hand. “This time we are going to make it more interesting.” She attached the weights to the nipple clamps. He tried not to sob. She stood back and surveyed him. His lips were clamped shut, but his body moved against the punishment she inflicted on it. For the first time that night her slave was pleasing her. Her breasts threatened to spill from her corset as her breathing quickened. Her pussy dampened at her arousal. Her slave chose that moment to look at her and their eyes locked. They both knew what was going to happen. She smiled and his cock twitched. Tonight, he was going to be broken. She turned her back on him and retrieved one more item from the chest of drawers. He panted as he watched her fasten the penis bands on his cock. She attached the wires then plugged them into the Folsom unit. Then she strolled to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of wine. She casually pulled up a chair and picked up the unit. She took a sip of wine. Then she turned on the juice. He moaned.

 

“Tell me slave.”

 

He groaned.

 

“Tell me.” She took another sip of wine and crossed her legs. He strained against his bondage.

 

“Beg me.” She turned up the power and he danced against the wall.

 

He moaned and looked down at his body. She smiled.  She turned the juice a little higher.

 

“I said beg, you slut.”

Panting and moaning, he raised his eyes to hers.

 

Her hand hovered over the unit. He looked down at himself again. She swung her crossed leg back and forth. She enjoyed another sip of her wine. She inched the power higher. There was a knowing smile on her face.

 

He raised his eyes to meet hers. His mouth moved, but no words came out. She picked up another set of wires and approached him. Her hand clenched his throat pushing his head against the wall. ” You can beg me, or I can attaché these to the ball spreader. Your choice slave.” Her eyes bored into his.

 

“Please…”he moaned.

 

The grip on his throat tightened. “Please what slave?”

 

“Please…”

 

She released his throat and bent to attach the wires.

 

“No…”

 

She straightened and pulled on the chain between the nipple clamps.

 

“No what?” she demanded.

 

“Use me.”

 

She laughed. “I am using you.”

 

“No…use me for..”

 

“For what, slut?” She slapped his face. “Tell me or these are going on.” She held the wires in front of him.

 

“Use me as…”

 

“What?” She demanded. “Use you as what?”

 

He gasped, “Your fucktoy.”

 

She looked at him, disgust written on her face. “You already are my fucktoy. I use your ass whenever I please.”

 

He squirmed. He moaned. He watched as she bent to attach the wires to the ball spreader.

 

“No…as your….”

She looked up at him, her brow arched. “My what slave?”

 

“Your toy. Your human dildo. Use my cock for your pleasure. Please.”

 

She paused in her task. Mistress Layla straightened up and looked at her slave. She reached over to him and ran her fingers over lips. He tried to kiss them.  She moved them out of reach.

 

“Is that what you want slave? You want to be my dildo?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Is that why you have been such a bad slut?”

 

He nodded again. More miserably this time.

 

She ran her fingers against his lips again. “Oh slave. All you had to do was beg.”

 

He looked at her then, his eyes hopeful.

 

She smiled. “Now beg me again, slave. Nicely this time…”

 

He begged.