When the alarm woke me up in the morning, I did what I always do.

I rolled over to smack the snooze button, craving the extra ten minutes of beauty sleep I require to get through the day.At least, that’s what I tried to do. I kept my eyes shut tight to block out the morning light, and I attempted to roll over and hit the snooze. Nothing happened. Well, that’s not entirely true. The alarm continued to sound its annoying melody of blaring bleeps, but my hand would not follow the mental command I was issuing.

Hand hit button.

How hard is that?

Hand hit button now.

Come on. I’d done this nearly every workday of my adult life. Why was my hand refusing to obey today?

Maybe I was still asleep. Maybe I was lost in one of those dreams where your body won’t follow even the most basic orders. Perhaps I’d turn into a parakeet next and fly out of the window or transform into a shiny lizard and wriggle out of my skin.

However, the alarm continued with its beeping song, and I couldn’t believe that I’d choose beeping as my background dream music, even subconsciously. Where were the forest noises? Or Enya?

Slowly, the dreamy state began to dissipate. I realized that my hand was not responding because my wrist was firmly cuffed in chrome and leather and attached to the headboard. I checked my other hand. Same deal. Oh, and look at this — my legs were spread into a wide V-shape, my aankles bound to the curlicues of metal making up my footboard.

What was going on?

I gazed down again to take in the fact that I was nearly naked. The sheets and covers were off the bed, and my pajama top was unbuttoned and open. My silky pj bottoms were completely off, tossed somewhere out of sight. I don’t sleep in panties, but how had I slept through this?

I couldn’t answer the question because the fucking alarm would not shut off. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I turned to my left, where I normally would have found my beautiful boyfriend Garth. No Garth. I looked around the room. Ah, so there he was, standing in the corner watching me with a calm expression on his face as if enjoying every second of my slow arousal. He padded over in his bare feet and hit the snooze button for me, silencing the annoying alarm. So that was that, but what about the rest of the situation? What had prompted Garth to place me in such a submissive state before six thirty?

“I’m guessing you have plans,” I said.

“Yes, I have plans.”

“Plans that involve me being late for work?” I asked coyly.

“Not if you do what I say,” he said. “You’ll only be late if you’re a brat, Eleanor. And then I can guarantee you two things. Not only will you be late, but by the time you get to work, you’ll have a hot, red bottom beneath whatever professional outfit you choose to wear for work.”

As he said the words, I realized that I was definitely going to be late. Because you know what? I wanted a hot, red bottom. When Garth gives me a spanking, he always makes sure that I come in the most delicious ways. He employs a variety of methods to spank me. Sometimes he puts me over his lap. Sometimes he bends me over the mattress. He uses his hand, or his belt, or his favorite paddle. Occasionally, he even wields a wooden spoon or my own hard-backed brush. But I was still sleepy. How was I going to get a spanking? Oh, yes. I had to be a brat. That was going to be easy enough. He’d robbed me of my snooze time, and he hadn’t even offered me a cup of coffee to chase the wisps of dreams from my brain.

“So you’ve been busy this morning,” I said, striving for lighthearted and chatty.

Garth didn’t respond. Instead, he climbed onto the bed with me and straddled my body high up on my chest. Then he pulled his blue-plaid pajama bottoms down, so that his gorgeous hard cock popped out, nearly smacking me in the mouth.

“Open,” he said.

“What? No French Roast first?”

“Today, we’re starting with cream,” he said, and I had to laugh at that. Clever boy. I looked up at him for a moment, taking in his handsome face, longish sandy hair falling over his forehead, gray-blue eyes smiling down at me. I took that second to reflect on what a lucky girl I am to have found a master like him, and then I went to work.

I love sucking cock, and it shows. I licked the head of his cock and then he slid the first inch between my lips. “Mmm,” I hummed around his dick. He rewarded me by sliding in a little deeper. I traced my tongue all around him, and I moved my head forward and back as much as I could. But since I was bound, Garth had to do the majority of the work. I couldn’t really play with him the way I generally like to. I couldn’t tickle his balls or tease his asshole since he had my hands captured. But Garth seemed perfectly satisfied with the motion of his own making. He rocked more and more of his cock inside my mouth and down my throat, and I did my best to keep up with the pace he set. Still, soon I was breathless, and Garth took pity on me, pulling back and starting to kiss his way down my bound, helpless body.

He didn’t rush. He took his time licking along the curve of my neck, nibbling over the rise of my breasts. He kissed my nipples and my ribs, and he started to gently tickle me with his lips and fingertips until I shook and begged. I couldn’t squirm away from him, since I was so well bound, but I could move my mouth to speak. “Please, Garth,” I whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, Eleanor?”

Oh, the bastard. He was going to make me ask for what I needed. “Please lick my pussy,” I said, sounding totally pathetic. “Please, honey. Please, Garth.”

“Like this?” he asked when he arrived at my hungry pussy. He was still messing with me, simply planting a sweet, chaste kiss on my shaved-bare nether lips — lips he’d shaved himself the night before. Damn him for being such a clit tease.

“No,” I moaned. “Not like that. You know what I want.”

Of course, he did. Garth is an expert pussy-eater. When he decides to get me off orally, he makes me come like no man ever has. But he didn’t start, didn’t give me the contact I longed for. Instead, he said, “Oh, what’s this? I’ve found an ocean of wetness between your naughty thighs, Eleanor. What part of this morning has gotten you so wet? Sucking my cock? Or waking up bound to your bed? Or maybe — ”

“All of it,” I said, jerking on the bonds as he began finger-fucking my pussy with two fingers overlapped. He was right. There was an abundance of sex juices between my legs. I could feel exactly how slick and wet my thighs were, and how damp the mattress was beneath me.

“I want more specifics,” he said in that scholarly way of his, yet to my total glee, he dipped his head to lick and suck at my clit. Oh, sweet heaven! I was transported. But I should have known not to get too comfortable too soon. In between sucks, he said, “If you keep talking to me, I’ll keep licking.”

I shivered all over. He hadn’t shaved yet, and his morning beard scraped against my sensitive skin in the most erotic of ways. I was keening under my breath, raising my hips as high as I could with the little slack he’d given me. I wanted to come more than anything I’d ever wanted before, so much so that I forgot what he’d told me to do.

“Eleanor — ”

He licked again. I still didn’t say anything. He stopped licking.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked sharply. I was already teetering on the brink of climax. I could hardly speak.

“You tell me why you’re so wet, and I will keep licking your pretty split.”

Again, I marveled at how truly sadistic he could be, making me work for pleasure and my ultimate release. But I took a breath and tried to behave the way he desired. “I’m wet,” I started, “because of what you said.”

He stopped licking and gave me a look of pure disappointment. “You think that’s going to get you what you need? I’m asking for specifics. You’re being intentionally vague.” Before I could try to rectify the situation, he reached behind himself and brought out his favorite pair of nipple clamps. He had the mean things on my tits in no time, and I yelped at the fierce spark of pain. My cry was drowned out by the sound of the clock alarm, which had run its course of snooze and decided to try again to wake me. “Too late,” I wanted to tell it. Garth hit the button a second time.

“Now, continue,” he said, “and I will.”

I bit my lip and then tried again. “I’m wet,” I said, “because of the threat you made earlier.”

Garth shook his head, sadly, as if he couldn’t believe my willful disobedience, and then he unfastened the bindings on my ankles. “Bad girl,” he said. “If you’d done what I’d asked, I would have gotten you off with my mouth, licking you as if you were a piece of hard candy. But no such luck. Now, it looks like I’m going to have to give you a spanking first.”

I worked to keep the smile off my face. I wanted a spanking first. However, if Garth guessed that, he didn’t let on. Instead, he lifted my legs, bending them forward, so that he had a good shot at my ass. I’m a limber creature from years of yoga. But I’m sure my instructors have no idea that one of my favorite poses is like this, ankles up over my head, ass exposed.

“I’m only going to use my hand for the first round,” he said, “to get you primed. I’ll give you a taste of the belt after.” Oh, the belt. He really was going to send me to work with a bright red bottom, wasn’t he? I was going to have to sit on my hot ass at my desk and try to concentrate on my work. That’s always difficult. When Garth gives me a spanking in the morning, my productivity gets cut in half. I have to retreat to the restroom at least twice to jerk off to memories of his punishing spanks. And by the time I get back home again, I’m always more than ready for a replay.

But there was no time to think of the future. I had to focus on the here and now, because Garth was using his firm hand to spank my naked asscheeks, and I could do nothing to protect myself. My wrists were still cuffed, and he had me bent almost in half so that he could really get at my heart-shaped rear. If I’d wanted to cover my reddening cheeks, I couldn’t have. Garth knows my limits, though, and he didn’t press my boundaries — though he occasionally tests them in ways that thrill me.

He spanked one cheek, then the other, and then he used his fingertips to probe my pussy again, sighing as he found the wealth of wetness that awaited him. “Look how you get when I spank you,” he said. “You’re so primed for my cock.”

I nodded, panting. Was he going to let me come before he fucked me?

The answer, I should have known, was no. He spanked me firmly, until I knew his handprints were standing out brightly on both of my cheeks, and then he let my legs down once more, but he didn’t bind me again. He undid the clamps from my tits and sucked each nipple into his mouth in turn. Then he parted my legs wide and let the tip of his dick split my slippery lips.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Oh, yes, Garth.”

For a millisecond, he hesitated. He let my pussy lips cradle the head of his cock, introducing me to his prick in a molasses-slow fashion. I gripped him as tight as I possibly could with my inner muscles, trying to top from below. No such luck. He didn’t push forward until he wanted to, but when he did, he was like a machine. He fucked me hard and fast, but he also played with my clit while he worked me. I was transported, my ass boldly blazing from the hand-spanking he’d given me, my pussy swollen and ripe with ever-flowing honey. Garth rotated his hips so that he could touch all the secret places deep inside me. Then, right when I was on the verge of climax, he said, “Don’t.”

I froze. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Oh fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck! “Don’t I dare what?” I was whispering, practically babbling. What did he not want me to do? He couldn’t not want me to climax, because that would be like asking me not to breathe or blink or —

“Don’t you come until I give you permission. If you do — ” and then magically he had a clothespin in one of his hands. I stared at him my eyes wide open with desperation. I couldn’t not come. He’d brought me past the point of return. To my dismay and pleasure combined, I shook and trembled and climaxed in a rush of heat and wetness. The power of the orgasm rendered me momentarily useless. It was as if I’d fallen over a waterfall into a cascading pool of pleasure. But even as the lapping waves of the sublime sensations ebbed around me, Garth put the clip on my clit.

Oh, cruel master! The pain was an immediate dull echo of the bliss that the pin created at its initial contact.

“See?” he sneered down at me. “You shouldn’t disobey me.”

Disobey? How could I not disobey? This was all his fault! The words were yammering in my head, but I held my tongue. He was the one to make me climax! But I knew better. I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep myself from responding, and I focused instead on the way the clothespin felt on my clit. There was the pain, obviously, but the pull of lust and yearning and even an impending climax was rolled up with it.

“Now, we’re going to try this again,” he said. And he removed the clip with a flick of his fingers and then got back between my legs to kiss and lick my throbbing clit. “You’re not going to come until I say so. Do you think you can do that for me?” He asked the words against my pussy, practically talking into the split between my legs, but I made out the command.

“Yes, Sir,” I said. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, and then he was clit-licking again, and I realized I’d made a promise that might be impossible to keep. He brought me to the gates once more, and then he surprised me. He pushed my legs forward as he had when he’d spanked me, but this time, he had a new idea. He spread my asscheeks wide open and began to rim my asshole.

I thrashed my head back and forth on the pillow. I clenched my fists. I bucked on the bed. Garth held me as still as possible with one hand on the back of each of my thighs. He was able to get his tongue deep inside me in this position, and I thought I was going to come without him touching my clit again. I was going to have an anal orgasm. I hadn’t even known something like that was possible! Embarrassment at the awkward position flooded through me, but I couldn’t help myself. I was going to come. Now. But then I remembered.

“Garth!”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Garth!”

“Baby, if you come again,” he said, pulling up to look at me straight on, “I’m going to get my belt.”

Back he went to rimming me, and I came on his tongue. There simply was no way around it. The climax broke as neatly as an eggshell on the side of a bowl. The pleasure flowed through me, and I relaxed entirely onto the bed. Garth left the room for a moment, and I could hear the sound of water running. When he returned, he had minty breath and his favorite belt. He quickly undid the cuffs and repositioned me so that I was on my stomach before cuffing me back in place. He even slid a pillow under my hips to raise me exactly how he wanted.

“Ten with the belt,” he said, “and then I’m going to fuck you. And you can come as many times as you want.”

I steeled myself, but I turned my head away. Garth gripped my hair and forced my head back to face him. I knew what he wanted now, and I silently vowed to behave for him. He doubled his belt and then made the leather snap. I jumped at the sound, but recovered quickly. There is nothing that can prepare me for the first blow of a belt on my skin. But the pleasure I’d already received this morning had primed me in a new and different way. When Garth let the belt strike, I felt the pain of it, but I immediately felt something else.

Oh, yes, my pussy was getting wet again.

Garth seemed a bit rushed at this point, as if his own cock was calling the shots, because he landed the blows in quick succession, one after the other, not allowing me time to process them. I counted in my mind, and when I reached ten, I was relieved to see Garth drop the belt and climb back on the bed. He pulled out his cock again, and this time, he rode me without any warnings. No instructions not to come. No warnings to be good. He slammed into me, and as he did, I gained the perfect pressure of my pussy to the mattress. I started coming right away, experiencing multiple orgasms that seemed to pop one after the other.

I didn’t even realize that I was crying out until the sound of the snooze alarm drowned out my noise. Garth hit the clock so hard the thing fell to the floor. Bye-bye snooze alarm! Then he finished up inside me, fucking me to his own release, filling me up until his sticky white cream spilled out of me. The clock tried to make a whimpering sound on the floor. Garth kicked it, and the thing shut down entirely.

“I cannot believe how many times you made me come,” I sighed as he undid the cuffs and took me in his arms.

“Well, you know what they say.” Garth grinned at me.

“No, what?”

“You snooze, you lose,” he said, and I realized I was going to be even later to work than I’d thought.