Earning Her Collar

GRACE DUNN

 

There is a box on my dresser that my husband gave me, one made to hold jewelry or other precious keepsakes. He gave it to me for our anniversary, and I remember him watching closely as I ran my fingers over the carved wood embedded with bits of ivory. The handiwork was exquisite, and Neil explained its history as I flipped the latch and opened it. As the hinges creaked, I held my breath and closed my eyes, and when I looked again, I saw that it was lined with burgundy velvet. More importantly, however, was what was nestled within those folds: a wide black leather strap with a buckle at one end, holes at the other, and in between, my name stitched in crimson.

I tried hiding my excitement, but my diamond-sharp nipples, which practically poked holes through my camisole, gave me away. I reached for the collar, my hand quavering above it, because at the last moment, I’d realized that Neil hadn’t said I could inspect my gift. Noticing, he said, “I’d thought you were ready,” and took the box away. I kept my eyes cast downward in an attempt to mask my disappointment, though I still hoped to feel the leather around my neck. However, my heart sank when he placed the box on the bureau and told me that I’d have to earn its contents.

I knew better than to display my emotions openly, so instead of sobbing aloud, I let my pussy weep for me, soaking the crotch of my thong. Its scent wafted up to my husband’s nostrils, also revealing my arousal, but all I had to prove was that I could control myself. By then, I’d spent two years training to be his slave, starting the night he’d proposed, but with a caveat: I’d have to surrender my will if I wanted to be his spouse. Already in his thrall, I said yes, and my cunt seconded the decision with a surge of juice. When he put the engagement ring on my finger I felt like I really belonged, but I soon learned that was far from being true.

A whole new world opened to me as I spent the year leading up to our marriage learning what it meant to have a master. We moved in together, and it became my duty to cook, clean and see to my fiancé’s whims. I adopted this role more quickly than I had expected—as a teacher, I was used to being in charge—but it wasn’t always easy. There were many lessons, such as the one I learned when Neil was traveling for business, and I forgot to pack his dopp kit.

I realized my mistake as soon as the taxi pulled out of the driveway, but it was too late. After calling the hotel where he was staying and leaving an apologetic message, I hung up the phone, dejected, and started thinking about my inevitable punishment. At first I was nervous, but then I realized I was also looking forward to it. By then, I’d received enough spankings and other forms of corporal discipline to know how much it turned me on. I waited to hear from him, expecting a verbal reprimand, but he remained silent the entire weeklong trip, letting me contemplate the ramifications of my forgetfulness as my arousal steadily increased.

I got through the days by throwing myself into my work and cleaning the house from top to bottom, making sure that things were absolutely perfect for his return. It was the nights that were unbearable, however, as my mind raced, my nipples hardened, my clit pulsed and my fingers twitched with the desire to stroke my pussy until I got myself off. In a show of self-control, I refrained. I knew not to come without Neil’s permission, so I’d lie in bed, tossing and turning for hours until I drifted into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of sex and punishment, just to repeat the process the following day.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready for anything by the time he returned home. The house was spotless, his favorite dishes were ready to pop into the oven and I was dressed in a lacy white bra and thong, my feet bare and my pussy shaven clean, just as he likes. I was so excited that my juices were already flowing, but when he walked through the door, I didn’t let him know that as I rushed to apologize.

He silenced me with a stern look, and then he gave me and the house a quick inspection, as I’d known he would. Even though I knew he wouldn’t find anything to take umbrage with, I held my breath until his attention returned to me. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly as he regarded me coolly for a moment before making me promise that I’d be more careful in the future. I nodded, and he brought up the subject of punishment. “On a scale of one to ten,” he asked, “how would you rate your misdeed?” Again, he fixed his stare on me and waited for my response.

I thought about it carefully, knowing that my answer would dictate the severity of my discipline. Here was a chance to impress him, to show him that I understood what he expected of me and was up to the task, even willing to risk his displeasure should I fail. Seizing the opportunity, I said, “Eight,” which seemed to satisfy him because he told me to fetch his crop.

I shivered and my skin broke into goose bumps at hearing the word crop. Just like the ones jockeys use, it’s the implement Neil turns to when he really wants to ensure I’ve learned a lesson. Turning on my heel, I took it down from its shelf in the bedroom closet, feeling the leather handle grow warm within my grip. The rest of it is long and thin, perfect for leaving stripes on my creamy-white skin, ending with a square of leather that stings brightly upon landing. I resisted the temptation to test it out on my palm and returned to my fiancé, my nipples throbbing as I wondered if that was where I would receive the brunt of his displeasure. Or perhaps it would be my thighs and buttocks? Wherever he chose, I was longing for the sharply stinging blows that would enliven my skin.

When I returned, Neil wasn’t in the foyer where I’d left him; he’d moved to the living room with its plush carpet and overstuffed chairs, the perfect setting for what was about to happen. Wordlessly, I handed him the crop, and then stood in front of him trying to look brave, but failed when he tested the toy with a slice through the air. The whoosh made my knees buckle with excitement, so I grabbed an end table for support. “That’s too rickety,” he said mockingly, and told me to lean over the back of an armchair, which would keep me steady.

Obediently, I followed his command. My ass, rendered bare by my flimsy thong, was obviously his target, and he primed me by gently caressing my naked cheeks. Then I didn’t hear or feel anything for a few minutes, so I braced myself in preparation for the first blow. When it didn’t come I started feeling anxious, though I knew better than to turn and look. Another silent moment passed before I heard a whistling sound, followed by a sharp rap on my ass.

The blow caught me off guard, and when the crop landed, a surprised cry escaped unbidden. Annoyed, my fiancé dropped the crop on the table, pulled open the drawer in the end table and moved in close behind me. “I thought you might need this,” he said, holding a rubber ball to my lips. I opened my mouth wide and allowed him to slip the gag inside so that it pressed down my tongue. Once it was settled, he buckled its straps behind my head as a reminder that I mustn’t speak unless spoken to, as well as to muffle any other noises I might make.

I was ready the next time the crop sliced through the air. When that wicked piece of leather landed across my upper thighs, I dug my fingers into the chair’s upholstery and sucked at the rubber orb in my mouth. Although I was jostled forward with the impact, the ball gag reminded me—forced me—to remain silent. Now the only noise in the room came from Neil: the whistling lash as he striped my ass and the backs of my legs, and his grunting as the pace and impact increased.

As the blows landed sharply on my sensitive flesh, my pussy rhythmically contracted and released as though it were hugging an imaginary cock. My buttocks grew increasingly tender as my master painted them with lines and squares of red, and I wondered if his cock was hard, and if so, how much longer he could hold out. He was usually unflappable, but we’d been apart for a week, and I figured that he’d been thinking about this flogging ever since he’d discovered his toiletries were missing.

I began salivating for a taste of his member, so I swallowed, but received the flavor of rubber, not his musky flesh. Meanwhile, he continued crisscrossing my ass with the crop; I was grateful for the gag, otherwise I’d be moaning loudly with pleasure. When the endorphins finally kicked in, I felt a sensation bordering on delirium. My body started quaking, and I became nervous that I might come, so I squeezed my thighs together and concentrated hard on maintaining control. Soon the threat subsided, something that wouldn’t have happened a few months earlier; my master’s training was taking hold.

The whipping stopped soon after, and the room got very silent. My buttocks throbbed with erotic warmth, and I knew my face had to be as pink as my bottom cheeks. Turning me around to face him, Neil brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, and since I was still muffled by the ball gag, I merely nodded. “All right,” he said as he unbuckled the strap, and then placed his hand in front of my mouth so I could eject the rubber ball.

After putting it and the crop on the end table, he ran his fingers along my jawline. Then he tipped my chin upward and pressed his lips to mine, forcing his tongue between my teeth. I returned his kisses as his hands moved to my breasts, which he squeezed while grinding his erection against my panty-clad mound. We writhed together for a while, fully clothed, before he pulled away just long enough to tear off my lingerie. As I stood before him with my eyes cast downward, like I’d been taught, he quickly shucked off his suit. The next thing I felt was one hand roughly cupping my pussy while the other took hold of my wrist.

He pulled my hand to his cock, and I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft. I felt his dick throbbing in my grasp as I gave it a few hard pumps in my tightened fist while enjoying the sensation of him stroking my outer labia. Then he slipped between them to explore my moist center and received a flow of juices in return. I shivered slightly at his gentle touch but quaked hard when he found my hole and thrust in his stiffened finger. Once again I had to hold back an orgasm, which he noticed, murmuring, “Good girl.” He tested me again by pulling out his digit to press down on my clit, and although it was even harder, I was still able to keep my cool. Concentrating on Neil’s pleasure helped; I never broke contact with his hardened rod.

My pussy twitched as I was all but overwhelmed with the desire to feel him inside me, but until I was told otherwise, I simply pleasured him with my fist. He continued kissing me as he played at my slippery folds, but he eventually pulled himself from my grasp and removed his finger from my cunt to replace it with his prick. I sucked hard at his tongue as he slipped inside me, and I had to struggle to choke back a grateful sob as my inner muscles were stretched by his girth. Then, when his balls were flush with my pussy, he reached down for my right leg, hoisted it upward and wrapped it around his waist.

Raising my leg had given Neil the greatest access to my hole, and he began plunging his cock into me so hard that he had to hold on to my ass to keep me from slipping off. I gripped his shoulders to steady myself as he thrust into me, and the pressure of his fingers digging into my blushing cheeks was a constant reminder of the punishment I’d so recently received. The heat of my flesh was a reminder to him, too, and probably why he was fucking me so forcefully.

His balls bounced against me as he repeatedly buried his cock in my cunt. One hand returned to my breast, and he pinched my hardened nipple while rewarding me with another kiss, and once again, warmth pooled in my belly as my climax again seemed imminent. In a renewed effort to stave it off, I tightened my pussy around his shaft, and, feeling that, he tore his mouth from mine and brought it to my ear. With his hot breath at my neck, he whispered, “Come for me, baby. It’s okay,” and then the dam burst open.

A loud sob ripped from my lips as the waves roiled right through me. My body shook so violently that I almost slipped off my fiancé’s dick, but he caught me at the very last minute. Holding me more tightly, he kept me in place as he continued ramming into my cunt, which was so constricted that it made penetration almost impossible. Of course, increased difficulty also meant increased pleasure, and he began grunting with the added exertion as he climbed toward his own peak. He continued ramming into me until he reached the point of desperation and barked, “Just do it!” I understood; there was no question what he wanted—no, needed—me to do.

How to get Neil off was a lesson I’d been taught early, so I sucked on my index finger before wrapping an arm around him and reaching down. Snaking my hand between his rear cheeks, I quickly located his anus and teased it with the moistened digit. He gasped loudly as his dick stabbed my still-fluttering cunt one more time, and then I felt a blast of hot semen paint my insides. Another short blast followed as his asshole quivered around my finger, buried to the bottom knuckle. His hips moved back and forth slightly as he eked out one more little squirt and then, when his balls were empty, he yanked out his softening member and pulled away before taking a step backward.

Quickly, I clasped my hands behind my back, dropped my head and stared at the carpet, adopting my submissive pose. “You did good,” he said gruffly, filling me with pride, and then told me to finish preparing dinner while he took a shower. I knew then that I’d been forgiven and had learned a lesson in the process, one that I would never forget.

Now, on our anniversary, came another challenge, one that could potentially earn me the final marker of my role as his most devoted slave. So, with my hands still at my sides, I remained silent as I waited for his next move. There was nothing I wanted more than to pass this test, so when he touched a finger to one nipple and circled my crinkled areola, I didn’t flinch. Nor did I move when he repeated the motion on my other tit.

Although I was aroused, I succeeded in hiding the physical manifestations of my lust. He pushed me further by taking off my panties and placing his hand on my cunt. After stroking my nether lips, he dipped a finger inside only to pull it right back out, and I bit down on my lower lip as my emotions became more difficult to hide. I held my breath as he inspected his finger, and I could tell he was pleased when the only evidence of my excitement was the wet streak on his skin.

The ultimate test came next: he unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock, letting it bob enticingly before me. I was told to drop to my knees and suck it, which I gladly did, loving his weight on my tongue and the salty sweetness of his precome. I moved back and forth over his length, tugging at his rod with my tightened lips to bring him close to climax, practically reaching that zenith myself. Fortunately, he pulled me off him before that could happen and had me turn around. Bent at the waist, I rested my arms on my vanity as he spread my asscheeks with rough fingers, positioned his spit-slickened cockhead at my tightened bud and slid right in.

He knew how vulnerable I was to anal penetration and raised the stakes by shoving two fingers into my cunt. I tightened my grip on the vanity, uncertain that I could endure the double stimulation as he began ramming into me so wildly that the antique shook. Furtively, I stole a glance in the mirror and saw my husband’s strained expression, then quickly dropped my eyes before he noticed. My pussy gushed onto his thrusting digits as I prayed he’d give me permission to come because with the way he was fucking me, I didn’t think I could hold on much longer. But he remained silent as he showed no sign of stopping, and I wondered how much longer he would be able to hold out.

A few more minutes passed as Neil kept shoving his cock into my ass so hard that his balls bounced against my cheeks. He huffed and puffed above me, and I also started to pant, though I tried to keep quiet, to seem as calm as possible. A year earlier, I couldn’t have done that, but the knowledge that I was striving for the collar helped me keep my cool. To earn that symbol of my submission, I’d have to prove I deserved it, and when another few moments passed, I started feeling like I might not make it. Then his shaft swelled inside me, an indication that his orgasm wasn’t far off. Now, all I had to do was hold out for a little longer, and when he came, I would hopefully be given leave to follow suit.

Finally, it happened. His arms tightened around my waist as he pulled me onto his cock one last time and emptied the contents of his balls into my rear. I’d felt stuffed to the brim with his shaft pulsing inside my ass and his fingers buried in my cunt, and now I felt even more so as his cream spilled into my core. He remained still inside me as his shaft continued to throb, although his fingers continued to massage my vaginal canal. I began trembling violently as it grew almost impossible to hold on, but a glance at that wooden box kept me in check, which was how badly I wanted to earn the collar. Then, just when I thought I might lose it, I heard the magic word: “Come.”

In a split second, my world exploded into a million little pieces. I barely managed to choke back a wail as my insides melted and stars appeared behind my tightly shut eyelids as I came. “Look at me,” Neil demanded, and when I opened my eyes to meet his in the mirror, I saw how pleased he was by my performance. My pride almost overwhelmed me as the orgasmic waves flowed into my limbs, and when he reached toward the dresser, it was hard to keep the excitement from showing on my face. “It’s okay, you can smile,” he said as he wrapped the leather strap around my neck and buckled it. Then, proud to have finally earned the title slave, I let down my guard and let my happiness express itself.

Though his dick softened and slipped from my ass, my master remained behind me, studying our reflections in the mirror. Tentatively, I raised my hand a little, and when he nodded, I touched my fingertips to the stiff collar and ran them along the stitching that spelled out my name. He let me admire myself for a moment before unbuckling it and placing it back in the box, where it remains until there’s a special occasion, which is the only time he lets me wear it. However, just knowing that it’s there is enough to make me feel secure and loved, and like I really belong to my master.