Pecan Sandies: Zoë's First Collar

Part II
By: Doxy Wringer©

Author's Note: This story may not be duplicated or re-posted on another website or in any medium without the written consent of the author. 

On To Part I

"These last two instruments will be used only for your most grievous acts of disobedience," he whispered, leaning down close to me, and I felt a hard, cold length against my sore bottom. "This is a riding crop. I trust you know what they are?" 

I nodded numbly as he stroked my ass with the weapon, gliding the top down to prod my thighs. He rubbed it back and forth in a carnal, vulgar rhythm and then drummed it up against my panties. I moaned aloud, unable to hold it in as my clit pulsated from the teasing tap. 

"Yes, you will like your punishments," he chuckled, mocking me before setting the crop aside. "This last, is a cane. I hope you never make me use it at full force." I heard him brandish it in the air, and it made a terrible whistle. The sound of something very strong and flexible slicing through silence. As a little girl, my Granny had once threatened to spank me with a willow switch, and it was the same sound, only somehow bigger and more threatening. 

The pliant texture of bamboo, or possibly rattan stroked my already stinging bottom. Unable to help myself, I moved my hips away, although I knew I had been told not to move. With a flick of the wrist, he delivered a swift lashing to my thighs and I cried out, losing hold of my skirt when my knees failed and I had to grasp the table for support. It had not been blinding pain, for he certainly had only shown me the very smallest amount of force the cane could inflict, but the effectiveness of that thin rod shocked me. 

"Easy, pet," He whispered, and I heard him release the cane. It clattered on the floor as his hands grasped my hips, supporting me. "Now you see why you should thank me when I use my hands. You'll also thank me when I use my mouth." 

On his knees, I felt his mouth on my thighs, relaxing the stinging flesh. He kissed and caressed with his tongue, and I felt his breath hot on my tender skin. It was like dripping water over the chin of a woman dying of thirst. Forgetting the pain, my clit was begging wetly against the material of my panties. His mouth was so close…so close… 

"Thank you for using your mouth, Master, but, please. Oh, please, Master," I whimpered. "Please." I couldn't even form the words to beg for what I wanted. 

He kept his hands on my hips, and rose to his feet once more. I bucked in frustration. His lips had been so close to soothing the ever-mounting heat that had begun to rage within me. 

"Stand up, pet," he ordered. "Turn and undress your Master." 

I quickly obeyed, stumbling around in my high heels, while my hands greedily reached for him. I unbuttoned and removed his shirt, and then lifted his soft cotton undershirt over his head. The cologne he was wearing was faint and spicy. Masculine and potent, just like the lean muscles of his broad chest. I swallowed hard and then bent over to unbuckle his belt and dismantle the fly of his jeans, my fingers trembling in their haste. His erection was thick and straining forward while I worked, and each time my hands grazed it, he gave a small shudder. He stepped out of his pants and I reached my fingers to the elastic waistband of his jockeys. That was when he promptly put his hands over mine. 

"Enough, pet. Stand back on your feet." I complied slowly, my body at attention just inches from his - one complete tremble of want. "Take off your lovely dress for me. Then your panties. Leave your stockings and shoes on." 

Nodding, I nibbled my bottom lip again, but didn't hesitate. I was beyond all modesty for the moment. Reaching behind my neck, I untied the straps of my sundress, letting it fall forward to expose my firm hard-nippled tits to the cold air. Then, holding the fabric shakily, I pushed it over my hips and let it whisp down around my legs. Stepping out of the skimpy dress, I finally reached for my panties. 

"Just a moment," the smirk in his tone rang out like a burr. "Put your fingers on the crotch of those white panties, little one." I did, and felt the soaking wetness of the fabric. "I want you to remember this. You came into this house wet. Afraid, but wet. Because you are my little pet and despite what logic may tell you otherwise, your instincts are to be here, at the command of your Master. You want to be here. That wetness proves it. Say it." 

"I want to be here, Master," I agreed as a terrible shaking overtook my body at the truth of his words. "I am wet for you, Master. I have been since I came to your home." 

"Good," he praised. "Now you may take off your panties. And your sweet little pet's twat had better look exactly as I ordered it to look." 

I untied the string panties and let their damp silkiness fall quickly. My pussy was shaved to his directions; bare and pink on the lips, with a soft muff of curls striping just the very center. 

"Such a good little pet," he sighed gently, and his hand slipped into my hair. "It's time to fuck you now, my little one." 

The bold, unapologetic statement made my knees week all over again, and I followed obediently as he led me by the hair across the room. He pushed me forward against a wall, my tits against cold, rough plaster. 

"Spread your arms and press flat against the wall. Then spread your legs. Like the criminal pet you are, submitting for my inspection of your most intimate places." 

I did as he commanded and shivered with delight when I heard him shuffle out of his jockeys. He was naked now, and I stood there in only my white high heels, stockings and garters. His hands soon found my ass and he leaned forward, his heat pressing aggressively to me. 

"You are going to be an obedient little pet when I am done with you. A sweet little fuck toy. Aren't you?" I began to blush once more over his fiery whispers. It had taken us weeks on the phone before I could speak the words he often commanded me to use. Words I had been taught a lady would never say. "Aren't you?" He growled into my ear. 

"Yes, Master," I panted, moaning when his hands slapped roughly on my ass. 

"I don't like it when I have to prod you for the answers I want. And what do you say when I use my hands on you?" 

"I'm sorry that I hesitated. Thank you for using your hands on me, Master." 

"You are my sweet little fuck pet. Say it," he grunted, slapping both his hands on the cheeks of my ass once more. 

"I am your sweet little fuck pet, Master. Thank you for using your hands on me." 

"You want my cock in your little pet pussy. Say it." Another hard spanking. 

"I want your Master's cock in my little pet pussy," I cried out. "Thank you for using your hands on me, Master." 

"Louder!" Another spanking, this one harder. The slap resounded through the room like a clap of thunder. 

"I want your Master's cock in my little pet pussy!" I screamed, the last word a yelp off my parted lips. "Thank you for using your hands on me, Master." 

Finally his thick erection replaced his hands, and he let his fingers slide up my sides, over my belly, to grope my hard tits while his length slapped lazily against my pussy lips and thighs, continuing to juice me up. He prolonged the suspense, grinding behind me for some time, his playful cock milling against my bottom, wagging along my moist thighs, teasing along my slit. His breath was labored, but his restraint had mine beat. I was dying to swallow him inside my body. 

"Please, Master," I whimpered, afraid to move. How I wanted to shove my ass back against his cock, but I had made that mistake before. I didn't want to distract him with the necessity of punishment. I wanted him to drive that thick meat inside me and claim his pet. 

"Please what, little one?" he rasped behind me. 

"Please fuck me, Master," I begged. "Please let me move against you, Sir? Please?" 

"Say all the dirty things you are so hesitant to say, my little one. Say them, and if you are good enough, I'll consider giving you the dicking you're so hot for," he hesitated a moment and then added with an arrogant grunt, "But you do not have permission to move against me." 

I cried out as the bulb of his cockhead grazed my throbbing clit, but somehow found the will not to thrust back. The last of my little-girl inhibitions deserted me. I wanted to be fucked, and I wanted to be fucked hard. But, most importantly I wanted to be fucked by my Master. I wanted to be his pet and to be claimed by him. 

"Please, Master," I moaned. "Please let me feel my Master's cock stretch my pet's pussy. Pound me. Slam me. Fuck me. Take me. Show this pet how much you control her body. Let yourself take pleasure from your pet. Fuck her. Pound her. Slam her. Take her. Mark her as yours." 

I chanted on, but it was enough. With a husky growl, he spun me about and lifted my hips roughly around him. I was no longer touching the floor, my back scraping the hard wall, my stocking-clad legs locked around his masculine hips while the white high-heels bobbed loosely on my feet. 

A feral, animal howl ground out of his throat, and he penetrated the lips of my pussy with one violent thrust. His cock was thick and stretched me wide in that aching moment, and I couldn't help a scream. I had told him of my single previous lover, how I'd lost my virginity rather abruptly on homecoming night, and how tight my cunnie still was. He showed no mercy, but pushed and forced his way in, stretching me, ripping me, molding my body to accept his intruding cock. 

I let out one fragile wail, unable to help the pitiful sound. He was balls-deep in my cunt, his girth shoved into a space that simply could not accommodate it, as I strained and clenched. My muscles contracted in effort to push him out, but that only served to clutch my pussy walls around his cock like a vise, making tight, wet, and hot - tighter, wetter, and hotter. 

The wicked, unnatural sound that escaped him sent cold fear through my blood, as he drew back and pumped forward. My body slammed backward, and I had to wrap my arms around him to keep my damp body from slipping off his sweaty, taut muscles. 

"Hold on tight," he barked angrily. "If you let go, I'll stop to punish you, pet. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Master," I nodded, locking my arms and legs around him with all my strength. I had the ridiculous feeling that if he stopped, I'd be struck dead. As much as there was pain in this rough possession, I had never known such violent rapture. 

He placed one arm behind my head, while the other grasped my ass for leverage. I didn't understand why he didn't brace my hips with both his arms until he began to pump me. Driving his cock forward, withdrawing, then slamming with more force, each thrust more bestial than the one before it. If he hadn't kept one arm behind my head, I'd have been knocked senseless by slamming into the wall. 

He drove into me hard and long, my moaning pleas lost in his deep, resonant grunting and growling. My body bucked and writhed as he tore into me, thrust after thrust. Fucking his little pet. Driving hard cock deep into a cavern of muscle, which now stretched to fit only him. 

I felt my orgasm trembling on the brink - the first real orgasm I'd ever had in my life, just as he gave a mighty roar and a flood of hot seed shot forward toward my womb. A single cry of disappointment escaped me, thinking I'd missed my chance to cum with him, but it was premature. His still hard cock continued to pump, only his thrusts strained ever upward, making the shaft drift fully against my swollen clit. And my blindfolded eyes erupted from a blanket of blackness to one of unbearable white. Brilliant, shaking, and I screamed. Moaned. Screamed again. He pushed forward one last time, savoring the clenching, clutching, choking tightness as my cunt muscles strangled his cock during my consuming orgasm, and my pussy milked the last of his cum into me. 

Wet. Dripping. Aching. Shaking. Spent. 

He held me around him and slowly walked us to a large chair. He folded his exhausted shape into it and cradled me tightly. My body had still not completely recovered as I bucked and moaned and trembled in his arms. He softened inside me and then withdrew. I was a bundle of tremulous, tired muscle. 

"Easy, my little one," he whispered soothingly while his hands stroked my hair. I felt his fingers gliding along my neck, and then they began to unfasten the blindfold. His thumbs caressed my face as I flinched against the light. 

Finally, he came into focus. A strong face - not particularly handsome, but full of character. Gray eyes that gazed at me with both precision and sincere affection. A hard, square, clean-shaven jaw emphasized a pair of full lips. There was a scar along his left cheek, running from his temple to his chin. I knew that story. A throwback to his reckless youth, and a knife fight, which had ensued and which he'd won. Framing that calm face was a lush crown with streaks of gray flecking his thick dark hair. I closed my eyes and smiled, a schoolgirl giggling overtaking me. 

"There you are," I purred. 

"Here I am," he agreed, curling me tightly against him. "I have something for you." 

Beside the chair was a small table and I watched as he leaned over and opened a drawer. He withdrew a delicate chain, bearing a number of glittering pale stones. The white gold links were in a strange shape - like that of a yin-yang symbol, only in three sections instead of two. 

"This is your first collar," he informed me softly. "The sapphires are my birthstones, the blue topaz are yours. Blue is a common color for a Collar of Consideration, so fate demanded I have this made for us. The links were specially crafted out of white gold; they are the BDSM emblem I told you of. It marks you as mine and off limits to others." 

I shivered as he slid his hands down my right leg to fasten the lovely object around my ankle. I knew that to be "collared" by my Master didn't mean I needed to wear an object around my throat. His instruction had educated me at least that much, and I had done a little research on my own as well. This was what I would wear to brand me as his while we considered each other for a more permanent relationship. It was his first action of taking me as his pet. By accepting it, I was taking him as my Master. The anklet did not belong to me. It was his. And, should we ever part, I would return it to him as his property. Until that time, his property would weigh on my ankle, reminding me of to whom I belonged. 

"And, did I earn this collar, Master? Being the naughty girl I turned out to be? Breaking silence and moving without permission. Seems my strict disciplinarian has turned out to be quite the old softie…" 

He chuckled at that and I pressed my face into his neck. We had been making each other laugh with our sly game for years. I was glad we could maintain our humor in the flesh - even after our acts of passionate abandon. 

"There will always be tenderness between us, pet," he cooed into my ear. "Don't confuse discipline and cruelty, Zoë. I would never be cruel to you. But I will discipline you to be my pet." He followed these words with kisses on my brow. "But like any good Master, I intend to spoil you a bit as well. Providing you earn it. And you were a good little pet, by preparing yourself as I instructed and finding the courage to come here at all. You've earned your first collar. In time you'll earn another. And then another, until you accept that you belong to me completely." 

I shuddered and pressed my nakedness to his. Thrilled at the idea of continuing our game in the flesh - overjoyed with the realization that I could trust him and all those growls and orders did not diminish his affection in anyway. It was not some sick twisted world he'd drawn me into, as I'd always worried. How foolish all those badly lit films and hard-core websites seemed now as I lay exhausted and gleeful in my Master's arms. 

Alice had fallen down the rabbit hole after all, and Wonderland didn't seem nearly as intimidating as before. 

"Come on," he nudged, starting me out of my reverie. "Let's get to the kitchen. I've got something there for you." 

I hopped off his lap but couldn't help a glance toward my dress where it lay discarded on the floor. I was still in nothing but stockings and high heels, and I wasn't as comfortable with my nudity as he was. The all-over body blush consumed me once more. 

"You don't need the dress, pet," he ordered gently, but firmly as he draped an arm over my shoulders. "I like the way you look just fine. You won't need any clothes for what I have waiting in the kitchen for you." 

I hesitated, gazing up into his mischievous gray eyes. He was trying to spook me, the deviant! I arched an eyebrow with as much arrogance as I could muster and twisted my lips into a pucker. "And just what exactly do you have waiting for me? Chains and whips? A metal examination table? The bodies of the rest of your victims? Or do you just plan to chop me up and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti?" 

Rolling his eyes, he laughed heartily and tucked me tightly against him. "You and your imagination, Zoë. You've got to stop watching those Forensics Detectives. All I've got waiting for you there is a nice glass of milk and some pecan sandies." 

I laughed and darted out ahead of him, the playfulness returning to our banter, and the concern about propriety deserting me. "Nummy. Cookies and milk. Such a thoughtful Master." 

He swatted my bottom and I laughed, spinning about to place my around about his neck. "Thank you for using your hands on me, Master," I grinned. 

He growled, captured my mouth in a kiss, and then lifted me off my feet. Stomping toward the kitchen, he let my limbs dangle around his loosely as he clutched my waist and pretended to be vexed. 

"There's also a nice, hard table in the kitchen. I may make you earn those pecan sandies yet, pet."

On To Part I

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