My master and I have a standing date every Friday night at 8 p.m. sharp. I’m to arrive on time and head straight to the bathroom, where thick towels and rose-scented soap are always waiting. After I’ve cleaned myself thoroughly, I proceed to the dressing room, where my master will lay out my outfit for the evening — assuming he wants me to wear clothing, that is. If no lingerie has been left for me, I’m to walk naked to the playroom, where I kneel in the corner and wait.

A camera is discreetly tucked into the corner of the ceiling directly above where I am expected to kneel. This is how my master knows I’m ready for him. Sometimes he joins me right away, feeling as eager as I am to begin. But occasionally, he makes me wait for long stretches of time, reminding me who is in control.

Last night, there were no clothes waiting for me. Master also made me wait. I’m not sure how much time had passed before he finally entered the room, but I do know my knees had taken on a cherry-red hue from kneeling on the wooden floor for so long.

As I was facing the corner, of course I couldn’t see him when he entered.

Not being able to watch him come into the playroom seems to enhance my other senses.

Leading up to a scene, I hear him pad barefoot down the hallway before he even opens the door. I feel the vibration of every step he takes as he approaches me. The anticipation is thrilling.

I never know when he’ll ask me to stand and face him. Sometimes he’ll call to me as soon as he crosses the threshold. Other times, he’ll wait until he’s standing directly behind me.

Last night was all about delayed gratification, which meant I had to be patient.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he came close. He didn’t touch me, but it didn’t matter. It was as if there was a palpable electricity crackling between us.

When he was close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, he issued his first instruction.

“Stand for me,” he said.

I did as he’d instructed and moved to turn on my heel to face him.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded. “I didn’t say you could look at me.”

He ran his hands over my shoulders and down my back, stopping just above the curve of my ass.

“Such pretty, creamy cheeks you have,” he said, his admiration clear in his voice. “I can’t wait to make them pink and red.”

He skimmed his palms gently up my sides and rested them on my waist.

“Now you may face me,” he said.

I spun slowly, keeping my eyes cast downward, so as not to appear too bold.

“That’s a good wench. I want to show you what I have in store for you tonight.”

From behind his back, he produced a brand-new blue flyswatter.

Though I always aim to maintain a passive demeanor with my master, I knew that my face revealed my confusion. It wasn’t an object he typically wielded in his playroom.

“Sometimes everyday objects are better than sex toys,” he said. “I think this will leave a pretty pink waffle print on your ass.”

He nodded toward the bondage horse that stood at the opposite end of the room and told me, “Now be a good little girl and get on the horse.”

I immediately hopped into action.

“Straddle the seat and get down on your belly.”

I hopped up and straddled the horse as directed, hanging my legs over either side of the furniture. Careful to keep my ass perched on the edge, I scooted forward, just a bit. My naked pussy pressed against the bench’s cold leather cushion as I moved.

Knowing my master was watching, I was careful not to let my clit brush against the horse while I leaned forward and positioned myself on my stomach. My clit wasn’t to be stimulated until he said so, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint him.

After I’d settled myself into the proper position, my master approached. His steps were steady and purposeful. He stepped in front of the horse and took hold of one of my wrists. His thumb brushed over my skin which felt ultrasensitive. He planted two fingers on my pulse point and paused for a moment to take measure of my heartbeat.

“You seem excited,” he said with wry amusement.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. I like an enthusiastic submissive.”

He turned and took a length of hemp rope off a hook on the wall, looped it through one of the rings mounted on the front of the horse and lifted the rope up so I could see it.

“Let’s get you tied up.”

One end of the rope was wrapped around my right wrist and the other on my left, making sure to leave next to no give.

Satisfied with the quality of my restraints, he rose and slapped the flyswatter against the leather. It landed inches from my face, producing a loud cracking sound that startled me.

“Are you ready to feel its sharp sting when it lands on your ass?”

“Yes, Master,” I replied, and truly, I meant it.

Up until that evening, we had only played with adult toys like riding crops and floggers. I was excited to experience something new. My pussy was already overflowing with honey. Leave it to my master to stir things up and give me a brand-new thrill.

He walked behind me, taking himself out of my view. My whole body went on high alert. As always, the anticipation made the experience a powerful and thrilling one. Not knowing when the swatter would land on my ass would only make its delicious sting even more satisfying.

Master skated the edge of the swatter along my backside. It tickled a bit, making tiny goose bumps rise in its wake. The thin piece of plastic glided down my crack and skimmed over my asshole, triggering a little spark of excitement.

He flipped the swatter so the plastic mesh rested against my exposed pussy lips. A little tap against the sensitive flesh made me yelp, but I immediately found myself wanting more.

“I love your pretty pink pussy,” he drawled. “So plump and perfect.”

He pulled the swatter back so fast it whistled through the air, but just as quickly he brought it right down on my ass with a loud thwack.

“Thank you, Master,” I squeaked in response upon feeling the first sting.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “Let’s even things out.”

He whipped the swatter down, striking my other cheek. Crack!

“And now I think those pussy lips could use some attention.”

I took a deep breath, attempting to prepare myself. But nothing could have prepared me for the sensation of the plastic swatter snapping against my naked cunt.

“Thank you, Master!” I said on a gasp.

“You got my swatter all wet, bad girl,” he teased.

I heard him inhale long and deep.

“But you smell so sweet…and taste good, too.”

He laid a few quick slaps on my ass, alternating from cheek to cheek. The sensation left me temporarily speechless, something that didn’t go unnoticed by my master.

“Count for me,” he ordered.

I did, calling out the number after each smack, until the swatter clattered to the floor after “five.”

Master laid both of his hands on my ass and spread his fingers wide as he murmured, “Such a gorgeous rosy color.”

His thumbs caressed my punished cheeks as he nudged his nose into my asscrack and slid downward.

“I’m going to taste you now,” he whispered.

His tongue slithered between my butt cheeks to circle my asshole, swirling around and around to get it nice and wet.

“Can your little puckered hole take a plug?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m not so sure,” he mused whimsically. “Better check with my fingers first.”

A suckling sound told me he’d wet his digit in his mouth before bringing it to my pucker and smearing his saliva over my hole. Then he bent and blew a puff of air over my wet flesh, and I shivered from the unexpected chill.

He pressed his fingertip against my tight rosebud and slipped inside my backdoor. Due to my prone position, I didn’t only feel him in my ass; the pressure resonated in my pussy, too.

“How does that feel?”

“Wonderful, Master,” I sighed.

“Good.”

He withdrew from my hole slowly.

“I’ll be back with the perfect butt plug,” he said, smacking his palm against my ass before departing.

Minutes later, he returned and showed me a ribbed purple butt plug. Bringing it to my lips, he said, “Suck it. Get it wet for me.”

It seemed such a dirty act, to suck the plug that he’d soon be shoving into my ass. Feeling another rush of arousal wrack my pussy, I sucked the plug into my mouth and swirled by tongue all around it, and he praised me for my lascivious efforts.

My lips smacked when he removed the plug from my mouth.

“Now I’m going to fill both of your holes.”

He wandered behind me and wiggled the plug into my asshole. The toy was much thicker than his finger, making for a more intense experience as it stretched and filled me. He teased the entrance of my pussy by swirling the tip of his dick around my hole. He coated his cockhead with my overflowing juices before sinking himself deep inside me, then he took hold of my hips and began fucking me.

As if that weren’t maddening enough, one of his hands found its way to the butt plug and gave it a twist.

“Don’t hold back,” he said. “I want to hear you moan.”

With my master’s permission, I really let loose. I’d been biting back my exclamations of lust all night. Releasing them was freeing.

“That’s it, you dirty little slut,” he groaned. “Make your master proud.”

He nudged and tapped the butt plug. Coupled with his dick pistoning into my pussy, I felt ready to explode.

“You’re so fucking tight. Give me that good juice.”

This time he flicked the butt plug’s base, making it seem to vibrate in my ass. I grunted and rocked back against his dick as I surrendered to my pleasure.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Give it to me.”

He pulled his dick out of my pussy and pumped it in his fist until semen jetted out. It landed all over my ass and back, icing me like a cake.

Afterward, Master removed the butt plug and released me from my bonds.

“I’ll meet you in the shower,” he said.

He firmly smacked my ass one last time before leaving me all alone in the room, blissfully covered in his come.