Chapter Four
The drive home was a blur. Her nipples ached, her clit was on fire, and she knew that once the rubber bands and clothespin were removed it would only be worse. He had instructed her that the clothespin could come off just outside her door, but the rubber bands were to stay until she had her orgasm. God how that word sounded delicious rolling around inside her head.
Her tires squealed as she pulled into the driveway and sprinted to the door. A quick sweep of her neighborhood showed it mostly empty so she reached down between her legs and gingerly opened the clothespins. The return of blood flow to her sensitive nub sent a wave of pleasure through her that caused her knees to buckle momentarily. She caught herself on the door frame and smiled, reasonably certain that he wouldn’t have promised orgasm this easily if something too terrible were waiting.
The lock clicked before she double-timed it to the chair where she’d left her book. She flipped through the pages before landing on the inside of the back cover where there was a small note that read, “You can cum but only on the spine of this book.”
There was a moment where her brain processed the words, their meanings, the implications. Then the fire in her pussy took control, her need bulldozed through any reason, logic, or shame and she dove onto the couch, spread her legs, and began to grind frantically at the spine of the book. Using the top edge she applied steady, hard pressure right on her clit as her fingers grazed against her absolutely seeping pussy. The sensations were almost too much to bear, she was always ready for sex but the past few hours had her in a frenzy that she could barely describe.
Her hips bucked up into the book as she fucked herself into it, her hips crashing upwards as she ground it back and forth, smearing it with her wetness, staining the pages with her need. She held on with one hand while the other rose up to grasp hungrily at her breasts, pawing at them wildly the way he had the night before. Her nails left long red streaks down her cleavage as a shuddering moan built in her chest. Breathing rapidly, frantically, on the verge of hyperventilation she continued to grind the book against her clit while rocking her hips.
Almost as an after-thought, although actually the result of very careful training, she found herself asking him permission for her impending orgasm. She liked the way the words sounded so she let them slip passed her lips, “Please, sir. Please let me cum. Please let your dirty whore cum. Pleeeeeeeeeease….”
The words cut a trail through the horny haze clouding her thoughts. Here she was, skirt hiked up around her hips, furiously humping the back of a book in search of an orgasm granted to her by a man miles away. Her nipples taut and strained under the pinch of rubber bands, a collar locked in place that had one key (in his wallet), her ass marked with bruises from the beating he’d given her. Though her hips continued to rock, her eyes stayed closed, and she had a dreamy moment of clarity. There was no more shame or fear, instead there was peace. A brief moment where she knew everything was just as it should be. She let her body default to muscle memory, imagining that she was holding his head down on her clit as she felt her release approaching.
With an ear-splitting squeal her serenity was broken by the explosion of an orgasm deep within her. Her legs kicked straight out, then batted at the air in rapid-fire twitches while her back arched, her hand clutching tightly at her breasts, and her breath evaporating into one solid, shrieking moan. Her hips rocked side-to-side as the aftershocks reverberated deep within her, her moans turned to tears, joyful tears, but tears that cascaded down her cheeks as the pleasure continued to wash over her.The book dropped to her side as she thrashed, her body racked with sobs as the orgasm continued to quake within her.
When the tears subsided she reached for her phone to text him a dutiful thank you but found that she had an email waiting from him. She bit her lip nervously, unsure of whether or not to thank him first, but opted to open the message. It was long, most of his messages were, but it was also exactly what she needed to hear. He told her a story about when they first met, reaffirmed how much he loved her, and wrote in florid prose about the life they would build together. He needed her, he owned her, he loved her.
Closing her email she opened up her texting app and sent a simple reply, “Thank you, sir.”
Chapter 5
After her session with the book she called him and they spent a wonderful few hours catching up on the phone. He was several time zones ahead so when it came time for him to sleep (well after, actually) he encouraged her to go out with friends for the night. She did, though her thoughts often turned to the ways in which he’d pushed her beyond her boundaries and despite her best efforts, just dancing with her girlfriends led to her collapsing into bed with soaked panties. For a brief moment she considered accepting the less-than-veiled advances of one of her more inebriated friends but without his hands there guiding her she just wasn’t that interested in being with another woman.
So she headed home, collapsed in bed, and spent a few fitful minutes dreaming of sleep. But despite her best efforts sleep wouldn’t come. It had felt so wonderful to have that orgasm earlier, given his restrictions on her having anything in her pussy she had worried that would preclude any release while he was gone. With training she had begun to love her anal/oral only time, but there was still something about that special filled feeling that was impossible to replace. That was where her thoughts drifted, while her hands dreamily ran along her sides, under her breasts, between her legs…
Looking around the room she weighed the options available. Several cards on the dresser, one on the lamp, three in the closet, with more scattered randomly here and there. Her eyes settled on a dull grey card taped to his nightstand. Pulling the tape free from the drawer she read, “Feeling unfulfilled?” In this case, there was a hasty underline written below filled. He normally kept a dildo for her in the top drawer so she excitedly crumpled the card then pulled the drawer back.
In lieu of the usual contents (a towel, dildo, books, chargers, et cetera) there was a bottle of lube with, “All five, no O,” written on it in sharpie. Her eyes grew wide as she realized the implications of these words. She knew that he enjoyed fisting, though as of yet he’d only been able to stretch her enough to get a few of his fingers inside of her. Her hands were more slender though so he expected her to .. “NO O?!” Fuck this, she thought, if she was going to stretch herself out for him then he could at least let her orgasm.
Again she felt the hunger take control of her brain. One of the side effects of the training recently was that she focused more on her sexuality. Daily worries were pushed out to make room for daydreams of all the naughty things he’d done to her and fantasies of all that he’d yet to do. She was nervous, there was no doubt in her mind it would hurt, but those nerves were nothing to the neediness she felt. For a brief moment she wished he were here to mock her quivering hands as she lathered lube onto her right, rubbing it into her skin up to her wrist.
With an unpleasant-sounding squirt of the bottle she felt a jet of icy liquid spray against her aching pussy. Her whole body trembled as she began to massage herself with her right hand. No need to take things quickly, she thought, letting her fingers slide up and down her lips, enjoying the sensations of the lube as it warmed to her body’s heat. Her pussy ached from the book, her clit was quickly swollen and eager for attention. She allowed herself a few moments of stimulation but was careful not to give into the overwhelming desire to grab her clit and squeeze until she came on her fingers.
Instead she sliipped her index finger between her lips and felt the warmth envelop it. Slowly she eased it back and forth, wiggling it deep within herself, while the rest of her knuckles teased her labia. Pulling her hand back she added her middle finger and eased both back inside of her cunt. In the dark room it was easy to close her eyes and get lost in her own head, focusing on nothing but her breathing and the familiar fullness as her ring finger slipped into her pussy. Her pussy was quickly soaking as her own lubricants mingled with the artificial ones. With three fingers she began to familiar the familiar stretch so she slowed her pace and began to rock her pelvis back, arching her body to help open herself up.
With three fingers buried in her pussy she let her thumb drift to her engorged clit, tracing circles while wiggling her fingers against her folds. She groaned and shivered, lifting her hips from the bed to meet her thumb in a desperate bid for more friction but despite her eagerness she knew she couldn’t cum. Not without permission. Not anymore. She drew a breath between her teeth then added her pinky finger. Now she tried to spread her hand wide, stretching her pussy open for the eventual arrival of her thumb.
Her pelvic muscles ached, her mind was swimming, and in some distant corner of her brain she realized that she should have turned the lights on so she could take a picture. After a minute or two of testing the waters nervously she realized that she would be able to get her thumb, and the rest of her fist in. Gritting her teeth she slid her whole hand out, applied a dab more lube, then began to work her fist into her pussy. Twisting her hips slightly she opened her labia and impaled herself on her fist. The slight twinge of pain from being stretched open so far contrasted with the shocking amounts of pride she felt for managing to take all of her fist in. She rocked her hips and began to pump her arm very slowly, all the while groaning deep within her chest at the sensations emanating from her cunt.
It took some careful maneuvering but she was able to slowly increase the speed as she fist-fucked herself, slowly opening and closing her fist in her pussy. Time and time again the new sensations combined with the feeling of her forearm grazing her clit to bring on an orgasm and each time she barely was able to freeze her gyrations long enough for things to dull. She was so proud of her contortions that there was no way she would spoil it by disobeying his instructions.
Each time she thought she should stop, each time she considered withdrawing her fist from her aching, dripping pussy she heard a voice in her head urging her on. Deeper. Faster. She needed this. Needed release. No, she can’t. She had to stop but couldn’t. The air was thick with her groaning, her throaty grunts, the slick sound of her fist sliding in and out of her cunt. No, his cunt.
She knew she had to stop, knew that if she kept going the momentum building inside her would be uncontrollable, knew that if she came she would be punished, knew that she would feel ashamed for failing to last 24 hours without his control. Knowing all of this was nothing next to the incredible experience of having her entire hand buried deep in her cunt. Nothing next to watching her body react to the intrusion, the feeling of her wrist grinding against her cunt, the sense of fullness she felt. Biting her lips and squeezing her eyes tightly shut she gave in, her fist a blur, her body spasming uncontrollably as she felt the throes of an orgasm wash over her. Later there would be consequences, later there would be punishment, but right now all that existed was a wave of pleasure so intense she could think of nothing else. As her fingers slipped from her pussy she muttered, “Thank you sir,” then fell asleep.
Chapter Six
She woke to an awkward fluttering in her stomach as the realization of what she’d done set in. If he was here she was reasonably certain she’d be spending some time in the heavy stocks he built for her. It’s not that she loved the pain but when he was hurting her she had his attention, she could see the focus on his face as he beat her. Being left in the stocks was torturous. She shivered at the memory of time spent waiting for his footsteps to return to her, the ache in her bladder as she waited for hours in the dark.
But he wasn’t here. She stalled for as long as she could, obsessively checking her phone, More than once during her shower she heard a phantom buzz in her phone that sent her vaulting across the bathroom to see if her punishment had arrived yet. Some part of her knew that the waiting was part of the punishment. Deep down she knew him well enough to know that he had already mapped out her punishment when he wrote these cards and would only reveal her torture after making her stew.All that logic flew out the window every time she heard a chime from her phone. Emails, texts, and push updates sent tingles through her pussy and a chill up her spine as she waited for word from him.
Knowing that her body was his even at work she did her best to dress accessibly. A modest blouse, lengthy skirt of heavy fabric, and a sweater draped over her shoulder. No panties or bra were allowed so she slipped on her shoes and double-checked the straps on her favorite purse. Zipped into a bottom compartment there was a small vibrator, butt plug, nipple clamps, some lube, and toy cleaner. Whenever she had to take this purse out she was always extra careful, maintaining a white-knuckle grip on the handle.
Getting into her car she checked her phone one last time and cursed quietly when she realized he still hadn’t replied. Her day started in fifteen minutes. He was waiting. As she pulled out of her driveway she knew in her heart that in sixteen minutes her punishment would arrive.
He was just a hair late, though her overall prediction had been correct. The first few messages were his standard, light humiliation. “You needy cunt, you couldn’t wait? Your poor, aching pussy took control of your brain again? This is why you need someone to own that cunt of yours.”
She knew this was just further torment designed to veil her actual punishment a bit longer, but still, she loved hearing that he owned her and her pussy was quickly soaked. Then, finally, it came. In her least favorite format.
“Tell me what punishment you deserve. If it’s too light, I’ll add on to it. If it’s too boring, I’ll override it. If it pleases me, you’ll get to cum again this month.”
Her eyes flitted nervously around her office to make sure nobody was watching. Every ounce of self-control she had was drummed up to keep her hands from diving between her thighs or cleavage. Her nipples were taut, her clit throbbing, and her whole body ached with desire. But goddammit she couldn’t think of a punishment. He knew that she didn’t feel comfortable articulating her thoughts, it was one of his favorite methods of tormenting her. He’d slap her tits while telling her to beg, or describe a fantasy, and she’d gamely struggle to put her thoughts into words while he pushed her further and further.
Afterward he was always quick to hold her, remind her she was loved, tell her how much he’d enjoyed the glimpse inside her thoughts and how proud he was of her for pushing passed fear and anxiety. But there was no question in her mind, a thousand times over, she’d rather be beaten than made to talk. Today more than many other days her mind was a mushy soup. Blank. One day of following the instructions on those damn cards and she found herself thinking nearly exclusively with her pussy making this current attempt to read his mind fruitless.
Finally she came up with something when she’d realized an hour had passed without her response. “I’m sorry sir. Your cunt shouldn’t be touched for one week. I should beat myself with the flogger or cane, on camera, so you can watch and …I should leave you a voicemail describing what it was like fisting myself.”
Nervously she hit send, hoping she hit the appropriate mix of pain and humiliation to ease his (recently developed) sadistic sensibilities. Again he made her wait. She fidgeted at her desk, idly cupping a breast through her blouse, enjoying the sensations of her nipples through the silky fabric. Then she remembered where she was, flushed red from head to toe, and scanned around to see if anyone had noticed.
If they had they were hiding it exceptionally well. The blush stayed on her for some time but slowly her color began to return. Naturally this was when his first instruction came through.
“Clearly I’ve been denying you too much lately. Your punishment is okay but I don’t think it fits the crime. Grab your bag and head to the supply closet at the back of your office.”
Again, her whole body flushed, her hands quaked as she tapped an anxious reply. “What am I going to do there? ;)”
She hoped the smiley face covered up the hint of insubordination he’d see from her not immediately obeying.
“Ask another question and you’ll be walking there on all fours.”
Evidently not.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/42rgmy/instructions_ch_46_fbd
Ch. 1-3 are [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/42c8dr/instructions_ch_13_fds/?ref=share&ref_source=link)