Mistress Had A Bad Day

The door burst open. She was fuming. I didn’t dare say a word.

“Cross. Now!”

I scurried to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner, attaching the ankle cuffs and the first wrist restraint so I was facing the wall, my back exposed. She attached the second restraint without another word and went to the rack of whips hanging on the wall.

“I had a bad day at work,” she muttered, grasping the handle of a large, black leather whip. “A really bad day.”

This wouldn’t be the first time she took out her anger on me. Last week, she burst through the door and hate-fucked my ass until I could hardly move.

“Why are men the way they are?” She asked rhetorically.

“I don’t know, mistress,” I said quietly.

“My fucking boss…he just gave the promotion to someone else. We had an understanding, and he just completely fucked me over.”

“Fuck him,” I said. “I hate him.”

She looked back and rolled her eyes. “I need to fine-tune the mind control spell a bit. You’re barely a real person.”

“You’re right,” I said with a laugh. She was always right.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Well…” she sighed. “I play the hand I’m dealt, okay?”

I listened attentively.

“So I’ve been sucking my boss’s dick at least once a week for…God, I don’t even know. Years. I was doing it almost the entire time we were together.”

I nodded.

“He always threw scraps my way. Bonuses here, fun stuff there, a ‘business trip’ we’d take together and expense to the company.”

Oh. I guess that’s what all those business trips were about.

"But the understanding was that he’d promote me when that old bat retired.” She threw up her hands. “Well, she retired, and he gave it someone else!”

I was filled with rage. How dare he! My wife had been sucking and fucking him for years, and he screws her over like this?

“Let me take care of him, mistress. I’ll kill him for you.”

Taken aback, she looked at me warily out of the corner of her eye. I’d been under her total control for several weeks now, but things had been elevated recently. Ever since she used the witch’s theretofore untested voodoo potion and zombie spell, I’d been freaking her out a bit with my devotion and intense loyalty to her as her ****. I could tell, but I couldn’t help myself. My will had been subsumed by hers.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with a sigh. “God, I’m just so fucking angry!” She cracked the whip against my back and I cried out.

She hit me again. And again. And again, raining down lashes on me until she drew blood. She screamed with rage and punched me in the ribs. I went momentarily limp against my restraints, my skin stinging from all the lashes. She jammed two of her fingers into my ass with no lube and no prep. I tensed up but obediently spread my legs, my stiffening cock pressing against the wooden beams.

“You like that?” She asked, spreading her fingers.

“Yes, mistress,” I moaned.

“I bet you do, you fucking retard,” she shoved her fingers up my asshole and I moaned.

“Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you, mistress.”

She fucked my ass with her fingers. Finally, she stopped, only to open the bottle of lube she kept by the cross. She paused and looked down at my ass, glancing up to meet my eyes for a moment. She spurted out more lube, covering her entire hand. She reached down, bringing her fingers together to form a sort of cone. She shoved it all inside me and a moan escaped my throat. She kept pressing and pressing. I blinked in shock as the feelings overwhelmed me, lightning shooting through my limbs. My mouth gaped open wordlessly as her knuckles spread my asshole, gliding slowly, pushing farther and farther inside of me. My arms and legs were bound to the St. Andrew’s cross, and I wriggled helplessly as her frail hand penetrated me. Deeper and deeper she went until finally, her knuckles made it past the rim. I was sweating, my ass feeling like it had been violated by a baseball bat. I exhaled and tried to relax, but it was hopeless. Her fist was inside of me. Her wrist was stretching out my hole. Helplessly, I thrashed against my bonds, trying to fight the painful fisting I was beginning to receive. My mistress could be so cruel sometimes.

Without a word, she balled up her fingers inside me and began pumping it in and out of my ass. Her wrist was bigger than any cock I’d ever taken, real or fake. (Did I forget to mention that she’d shared me with her bulls? A story for another time.) She fisted my hole as I screamed in agony, her forearm disappearing inside me. My ass had never been so fucking full.

“Are you a slut?” She demanded.

“I’m a slut!” I cried. “I’m a dirty fucking slut!”

“That’s right, bitch,” she said to me. “You’re just a pathetic hole.”

Finally, she had mercy on me.

Sweat dripped from my forehead. I hung from my cuffs, my hole gaping. Was I nothing more than a fucktoy?

“Alright, let’s shower you and get you on the bed. I need to ride some cock tonight.” She began to untie me.

I tried to catch my breath as she loosened my restraints. I couldn’t help but smile — I was going to fuck her! I could barely contain my excitement, but I did my best. She didn’t like when I showed my emotions too openly. I must have smiled too much, because she gave me a sharp slap across the face.

“Get in the shower,” she commanded disdainfully. She looked down at my dick.

“God, you’re so fucking small.”

“You’d rather have BBC?” I asked.

“Obviously,” she said. She slapped my ballsack and I whimpered. She smiled and gave it another hard slap. I cried out again, but I didn’t resist. I spread my legs wider for her.

She grabbed me by the balls. “You deserve this,” she said. “You deserve all this punishment and more.”

“Yes, mistress,” I whispered.