Teaching you the meaning of ownership.

You wriggle your ass in shame and excitement, both fearing and desiring another lash from the crop. Your face is turned sideways on the floor, held there by his foot, your hands clenched beside your head. With one tearful eye you stare up at him, feeling the fullness of your submission, and the blazing thrill of lust that submission has awakened in you.

He looks down at your face with a cold smile, then lashes you again, and then again, the stinging pain like an electric shock. You gasp incoherently, your body arching to push your ass higher, offering yourself to him for whatever he desires. The few times you've been play spanked by boyfriends has driven you half-mad with lustful excitement, but this is as far beyond that as a racing motorcycle is beyond a child's scooter.

Each lash of the crop sends rippling spasms through your helpless body, and you feel your pussy starting to pulse with impending orgasm. Gasping in **** need, you watch his cruel face, know that he possesses you, then scream in bliss as he lashes you again, your orgasm like a tidal wave of incredible, impossible pleasure.

Your body is shuddering and quivering as you come, screaming your joy against the floor, your spasms intensifying with each lash of the crop against your unprotected ass, your swollen pussy dripping juices down your thighs.

Finally he stops using the crop on your ass, but continues to hold you down with his foot, controlling you until the last of your orgasmic shudders subside. When he's sure you're done he takes his foot off you, then tosses the crop onto the chair and walks away. You moan softly, but lay as he left you, your face pressed against the floor, your ass raised submissively in the air. Your nipples are stiff and hard, your breasts pushed against the floor, your cunt flowing with your intense arousal.

It seems like a year ago when you were picking out sexy clothes to wear for your visit here, convinced that your beauty would get you what you want. Now that confidence is gone, shattered beyond recovery, broken by the knowledge that this man now owns you, and that you revel in that knowledge, accept it willingly, even joyfully. You know that you will do anything he wants, that you are unable, no unwilling, to resist him, that the thought of denying him is repulsive to the Lisa you are now.

He turns back towards you, some metal device in his hands that you don't recognize. You remain where you are, not wanting to displease him by any show of independence, knowing that pleasing him is all that matters to you now.

Pleasing your master.