Objectification

Continued from: Sarah's First Post

A post from Sarah

Almost 24-hours had passed, since I found myself bare naked in the palour of Mistress Andrea's Facility. I was being told to kneel, being told to keep my eyes down and how to position my arms. 

These were not requests, these were orders. I absolutely loved the simplicity of being told what to do. To not think, just obey.  

My clit jumped with each click of her high heels off the hardwood. Like a metronome of steady and commanding footsteps, when she approached and left me.

Since the first time I met her and she conducted her little "experiment", I cannot deny the fact that she tore a hole in the fabric of my identity. Despite her sexuality and her obvious gorgeousness, I'm just not attracted to women in that way. That is, until she started ordering me around, humiliating and degrading me...threatening to punish me. It has awoken something inside of me that I didn't know existed. 

My throbbing cunt is betraying me even now, as I sit here to type on Mistress' blog.

Carved from a corner of my bedroom, is my little WFH office. Between zoom calls, I've been trying to recount the events of yesterday afternoon, the first moment I had the privilege of calling Russell, 'Sir'.

It began with a different set of footsteps behind me. I knew it wasn't Mistress in her heels. I could also hear the distinct jingle of ice cubes in glass. 

Oh gawd! Oh I was so embarrassed and my god was he ever fucking hot! He sat and didn't acknowledge me, but glared toward my knelt state.

I was under instructions to keep my eyes lowered, which I did, but once Russell sat, I could see most of him. I didn't think it was possible to feel more naked, than fully naked, but I did. Being naked in a room with someone who is fully clothed is deathly vulnerable. My pussy betrayed me yet again, and started to slick my inner thighs. 

He smiled at me once, maybe to reassure me, before picking up his drink and taking a sip. He cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. 

"This is what you want?" He said, all raspy and sexy-like. His words were chosen carefully. It was almost a question, but had the tone of a statement. It was a masterful choice of words. It limited my control and decision making, although I did answer him. 

"Yes please, Sir," I squeaked out, without hesitating. 

I trembled when he came to help me up, using a firm grip on my wrist. I was taken to the corner of the room, to the padded apparatus affixed to the wall. He cinched-down the binds on my wrists until I was forced onto my toes, then he cuffed my ankles in place. 

Kneeling in a room, anticipating what's to come, provides a great deal of time to scan and interpret visual stimulus. It was not lost on me that Mistress positioned my body facing the coffee table. It was not lost on me that the blinds to this room were left open and a-top the coffee table, were two clothespins and a flogger. 

And now, I was at my most vulnerable of the session, bound, exposed and naked, in the presence of this intimidatingly, gorgeous man. 

He knelt down as he approached me, running a finger along the tops of my feet and toes, finally onto my toenails. 

"Keep these painted for me, baby pink," was all he said. 

I replied with a, "yes Sir." I was dreadfully embarrassed that my toenails were not done for him.

He ran a muscular hand up my leg and thigh and onto my pussy which he grabbed in a fist motion. I gasped out loud as he did. 

"Keep this shaved bald for me, slut." He hissed. "Your asshole too, hairless."

I groaned out loud in pure, desperate arousal. It was involuntary. I was such a whore to have groaned like that. But fuck me! He was inspecting me! Claiming me! Like my Master had just purchased me at some seedy auction. 

He continued his horrible and beautiful objectification, cupping my tits in his palms for a light bounce. Then his fingertips reached for both of my nipples. It was more of a swirl than a pinch. 

"These need to be a little more responsive." He said out loud. 

Not knowing what to do, or if this was a moment I should speak, I blurted out a, "I'm sorry Sir, I'll do better for you." 

He returned to the couch to sit, sipping from his drink once more. 

He cradled the cold, wet glass in his hands long enough to achieve his objective. He walked back to me and held my nipples with his freezing cold fingertips. They hardened instantly, and goosebumps fluttered across my body. 

"That's better." He commented, in a cavalier tone, before retrieving both clothespins and affixing them to my erect nipples. There was the sharp pain I was wanting, or at least my cunt was wanting. Now we were getting somewhere. 

Master picked up the flogger next, and proceeded to whip my stomach, ribs and tits with the vicious strands of leather. He whipped my tits and nipples until the clothespins came flying off from the impact, causing me to shriek in pain.

"You may scream. There is no shame in it." He calmly counselled, as I struggled to catch my breath through my whimpers. 

Master undid my bondage next, catching me as I was about to collapse down onto the floor. I guess being on my toes for so long had my legs shaky and spent. But on my knees in a puddle of my own degradation, was exactly where he wanted me.  

He controlled my wrists, and he was no longer in his pants, as he dragged me to the middle of the room. 

Nothing was said. He just mashed his erect penis against my lips, until I opened and took him into my mouth. Master has a lovely sized cock. I wasn't sucking it...he was fucking my face and throat with it. 

 

There was lots of beautiful gagging and gucking sounds, which only degraded me further. 

I tried to use my hands at one point, on his cock. I was quickly and sharply slapped in the face. Not at all violently, it was corrective. I need correction in this role, I have dreamed of being corrected in this way. 

He simply said, "No!" After the slap. Like he was scolding a dog. I carried on with only my mouth, like the filthy slut that I am, until Master came down my throat and onto my face. 

After this, I was told I was getting another whipping. 100 lashes to be exact, on my bare bum, back and thighs. Master was very specific this time, with what he intended to do. Likely because I was once again bound into a stress pose, to be left and to anticipate this flogging. Only this time, I was wearing his cum on my face, proudly!

slut sarah

xoxo

Continued in: All Three Holes