Natasha's Disobedience

Natasha looked out the window from her perch on the step ladder to see her Master’s car coming up the drive. She had been painting her Master’s office while he was away and was eager to show him her progress. She stood looking out at the car, waiting to catch a glimpse of him when he stepped out of the car. When he finally exited the large SUV, he wasn’t alone. She froze when she saw that a man accompanied her Master. She looked down at herself. She was wearing torn blue jeans, a dirty flannel shirt covered with taupe colored paint splotches, her hair was tied back in a blue bandana, and she was barefoot.

In a panic, she darted out the door of Master’s office toward her dressing room. On the way, she scoured her memory for her Master’s instructions about this evening. She could not remember anything about him bringing home company! She berated herself for being so inattentive and foolish. How could she have forgotten something like this? As she passed the den, she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. In a frenzy, she jammed her finger on the play button. She felt her insides turn to ice when she heard his voice on the machine, instructing her to be dressed and ready for a guest at 7:00 pm. She looked at the large brass clock in the foyer, it was 7:00 on the dot. Natasha began to run to her dressing room, but it was too late. Master, with his guest, was walking in the door.

The door opened and he entered the foyer. He looked at her, taking in her appearance. His cold and angry stare sent shivers down her spine. She cringed at his silence. The other man looked to her and she immediately lowered her eyes. He was another Master, and he was there to be served by her. She was on the verge of tears, reduced to a trembling heap by her Master’s anger and disappointment.

“Why are you not dressed, Natasha?” his voice was low and curt.
“I..I..didn’t..I didn’t know there was a message…. I didn’t check the machine…I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“As you can see, I brought a guest. What will my guest think of me as a Master if his girl cannot follow the simple instructions he has laid out for her?”

“I’m so sorry, Master,” she sobbed, falling to her knees.

“Stand up, girl!’ His anger and disappointment cut through her like a knife.

“Walk over here and greet my guest. His name is Sir Manyon and you are to serve him tonight. You will do whatever he instructs, do you understand?”

She stood and walked unsteadily to Sir Manyon, stopped in front of him, and tried to bow as gracefully as possible on her trembling legs. She faltered, falling onto her knees, and laid her hands, palms down, on her thighs. She lowered her head, awaiting instructions. Lord Manyon reached forward and petted her head, smoothing her rumpled hair. Finally, he spoke.

“If I know your Master, and I believe I do, you will be punished severely for this blunder. Perhaps he will allow me to issue your punishment, since my expectations have been terribly disappointed.” His voice was quiet, and not as stern as she had expected.

She looked up to her Master, who was still staring at her coldly. Her eyes lowered immediately to the floor. Her Master smiled slowly and looked at Sir Manyon.

“That is exactly what will happen. Poor little Natasha has no idea what you are capable of, Sir Manyon. No idea. She thinks I am stern, but she will learn stern tonight, will she not?” He lifted her chin with one finger, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Go ready yourself, girl. You have ten minutes,’ he commanded.

“Yes, Master. I will move quickly, I promise.”

She rose quickly and took two shaky steps on legs that had fallen asleep from kneeling. Sir Manyon stepped in front of her, blocking her. Yanking off her bandana and grabbing a fistful of hair, he pulled her head back roughly and forced her to look at him.

“You will shave yourself completely. I demand it. We can’t have unruly hair getting in the way of things, can we?” He held her hair for another moment allowing his words to sink in. She swallowed hard. “Go on, girl.”

She disappeared quickly around the corner, walking as fast as she could to her dressing room. She immediately turned on the hot water in the shower, allowing it to warm up. She flung open the door of a small cabinet and grabbed a razor, scented lotion, perfume, and powder. She looked at her feet. The polish was beginning to chip. She reached back into the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of deep red polish, cursing herself for be so negligent in the upkeep of her appearance. Tossing all the items onto a velvet-covered love seat and quickly undressing, she adjusted the water temperature and stepped in. She winced at the still too hot water, but did not change the temperature.

She washed her hair first, rushing through because she knew she still had to shave. She hated shaving in a hurry. Master would be even angrier if she nicked herself while shaving. Sitting on the granite-covered bench in the shower, she parted her legs. She rubbed the scented conditioner over her already throbbing pussy. She carefully shaved herself until her nether parts were completely bare and smooth. Caressing herself quickly once more in anticipation of what was to come, she sighed heavily and jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Still soaking wet, she sat on the loveseat and quickly touched up the polish on her toes. Oh God, how long has it been so far? What time did I start? she thought to herself in a panic.

Running out of time, she decided to forgo drying her hair and gathered it on the top of her head. Small, damp tendrils escaped in front of her ears and behind her neck. She opened the door to a large closet and pulled a black leather corset from a satin-covered hanger. Slipping it on, she pulled the laces tight and adjusted her ample breasts. Master liked it when just the tops of her nipples peeked over the leather. She lay back on the bed and rolled one black, silk stocking onto her leg, stopping to smooth it at the top of her trembling thigh. As she continued with the other leg, she caught sight of her naked bottom in the mirror. Her pussy was swollen and glistening, aching for the attention it was soon to receive.

Jumping up from the bed, she pulled her stiletto heels on, buckling the three straps that criss-crossed up the lower half of her calf. She pulled on a pair of black satin panties, took a deep breath, and walked out the door toward the library where the Masters were waiting.

Arriving at the arched door of the library, she stopped and stood quietly, eyes lowered. Master and Sir Manyon were sitting in over stuffed reading chairs at opposite ends of the couch. Sir Manyon, cigar in hand, looked up at her as she entered the room. Natasha’s face burned as she felt his gaze move up and down over her body. She looked quickly up at her Master, trying to determine if he approved of her appearance. He was staring at her, his face devoid of any emotion that she could see. She felt her stomach churn as she realized he had moved past anger, to something far worse.

“What are you waiting for, girl? Do you think we will be satisfied to sit here and simply look at your body? Are you that arrogant?” Sir Manyon asked coldly.

“N-n-n-no, sir, I..I wasn’t thinking that. I’m sorry, I was awaiting my instructions.” Natasha blanched at the coldness in his gaze.

“Take off your panties,” Master commanded her.

She reached down and slid her panties over her legs, stepping out of them when they reached her ankles. Standing again, she could feel the burning heat between her legs. She pressed her thighs together briefly, trying to hide the trickle of wetness that was starting to dribble down the inside of her legs. Her pussy responded to her thighs rubbing together by growing more swollen. She knew her desire was obvious, but she tried to hide it. Her desire, mixed with her fear, would drive the men into a frenzy. She knew it, and feared it, and the contrast of emotions was almost too much to bear.

Her Master rose from his chair and walked slowly toward her. She winced with every step he took. Finally standing in front of her, he put two fingers under her chin and raised her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. They were cold and cruel.

“Natasha, what have you done?” he asked in a low voice, drawing out the words.
“What is it that I want from you above all things? “

She tried to lower her eyes, but he snatched her chin up again, squeezing her cheeks roughly with his hand. She felt tears sting her eyes.

“Obedience…Master…,” she stammered, feeling as if her legs were giving out.

“And yet, you failed to follow my very simple instructions to you today. Have I not commanded you, in the past, to check for messages from me throughout the day?” His voice was softening as he breathed through his anger.

“You will be disciplined first by Sir Manyon tonight. Do you know why?” he asked. She shook her head weakly.

“Because you know I do not discipline you when I am angry. Sir Manyon is quite disappointed, and his discipline will reflect that. When he is done with you, it will be my turn. When we are both finished with you this evening, you will never disobey me again. I promise you that.” He grasped her chin roughly, forcing her mouth open with his, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

Sir Manyon stood, smiled cruelly at her, then walked to the table in the middle of the library. There was a black flannel cloth draped over several objects. Picking up the end of the flannel, he slowly lifted the cloth, revealing the objects underneath. She stared at what was laid out on the table: a riding crop, a leather paddle with ten small holes, a length of rope, four leather cuffs, what looked like a wide leather belt with a thick brass ring on the back, a candle, two lengths of chains, and… She gasped when she saw the three foot long 2x4. Master had never used this, nor the chains, and fear gripped her insides. What was this for??? She panicked again, her racing heart causing her to become light-headed.

She looked to her Master, eyes wide. He smiled ever so slightly and looked to the ceiling above the chair where Sir Manyon had been seated. Attached to one of the wooden ceiling beams was a large hook, resembling a meat hook, with a heavy chain link attached to it. She followed his gaze upwards, catching sight of it, her mouth falling open in despair. She tried to steady her ragged breathing, closing her eyes to the sight of the hook. Sir Manyon looked to her, catching her gaze. His eyes held a look of pure animalistic lust. She tried to stop a sob in her throat, but failed. His predatory stare reflected the fact that he had heard her fearful sob.
Sir Manyon reached forward and picked up two of the leather cuffs. He watched her eyes closely as he walked toward her with them. Reaching her, he grabbed her hands, pulling them together and fastening one leather cuff on each wrist.

“Is this too tight?” he asked. She shook her head no, fearful of giving the wrong answer.

In response, he pulled the cuff tighter, yanking both arms forward and hooking them together with a metal clasp. She winced at the roughness of his grasp, trying to hide her fear. After pushing her cuffed hands downward, he reached to the back of her head, yanking out the clip that held her hair up. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he turned her roughly and pushed her toward the chair, causing her to stumble and nearly fall in the 4” heels.

“Sit down, girl,” he barked, shoving her once more.

She sat clumsily onto the heavy chair, thankful to be off her feet. As she fell back, her right breast escaped its tight confinement. Sir Manyon grabbed the other two cuffs from the table and walked to her. He reached down with the leather cuff, tracing an O around the nipple of her exposed breast. Her back arched slightly and her nipple stiffened in response.

“Look at me.” He stood in front of her, breathing heavily, staring menacingly at her, forcing her to look at his face. “Lean back and raise your legs,” he growled through his teeth.

She leaned into the back of the chair, trying desperately to raise her leaden legs. They were trembling uncontrollably as she lifted them higher. She felt a trickle of wetness fall between her cheeks, causing her throbbing pink flesh to spasm involuntarily. She saw his eyes glaze and realized he had noticed.
Grabbing one leg, he clasped one leather cuff to her ankle. He continued with the second leg, then shoved her legs apart. She shuddered as she felt his stare on her gaping pussy. She felt her legs relax into his hands as more wetness trickled from her. Almost involuntarily, her back arched and she pressed her hips forward, as if offering him a better view. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, betraying the fear she felt.

“Your girl is a whore,” he uttered matter-of-factly to Master. “A naughty little whore who finds pleasure in strange men looking at her cunt.”

Master walked over in front of the chair, standing next to Sir Manyon. He reached forward and fingered the leather cuff around her ankle. Releasing the cuff, he trailed one finger down the inside of her thigh, stopping where the wetness started. She gasped, feeling her thighs spasm, the heat and wetness between her legs making her dizzy. Suddenly, Master plunged one finger roughly into her. She cried out, bucking her hips forward to meet his thrust. He removed his finger and walked away, leaving her whimpering and gasping.

Sir Manyon reached forward and pinched her freed nipple. Watching her twitch in response, he pinched it harder. She cried out, pulling against his grasp on her legs. He dropped her legs suddenly and grabbed her clasped wrists, pulling her to her feet. He turned her and pushed her forward.

“Get on your knees, little whore,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

She stumbled to her knees, nearly falling on her face because her hands were clasped together. She lay forward on her knees, trying to catch her breath, listening anxiously to the sound of his footsteps move toward the table. Heart pounding, she heard his footsteps returning, stopping immediately behind her. She tried to guess what he was doing, but she dared not look at him.

THWACK! The leather paddle landed on the back of her right thigh.

She cried out, her body jerked forward in response to the searing pain on her thigh. She bit her tongue trying to control her urge to cry out again. Gasping for breath, she felt the clasp between her wrists being yanked forward, and then her body dragged closer to the second chair. Finally released, she dropped onto her chest, trying to catch her breath and calm herself. She heard the footsteps again. When they came to be still behind her this time, she tensed in response, squeezing her eyes shut.

Something cold and smooth was being wrapped around her waist and hips. She slid her head down far enough to be able to peek at what was being wrapped around her. It was the wide, black belt. As she caught sight of the belt, she also saw that her Master was standing behind her, watching. She realized that it was Sir Manyon who was buckling the belt. He pulled it tight, shoving it low on her hips. He yanked on the metal loop on the back, pulling her to her knees. He then reached around her left thigh and yanked it to the side, spreading her knees apart. She grimaced at the sudden cramp she felt in her groin, caused by her hip being yanked roughly.

Suddenly she felt something rough and hard on the inside of her knee, then on the other. She realized that Sir Manyon had wedged the 2x4 between her knees, causing her legs to spread wide apart. He wrapped the rope around each of her knees, securing it to the end of the 2x4, so that she was bound to the wood. Her breath quickened at the sensation of her exposed pussy, feeling the stare of her Master. The belt was yanked upward, and she was pulled backward toward the chair, her bound hands dragging the floor in front of her. Dropped onto the floor roughly, she once again heard the sound of footsteps, this time followed by the clanging of a chain. Oh, God…, she thought, panicking. Oh no…what??... Oh God… She felt her anxiety build. She did not know Sir Manyon, did not know what he was capable of, did not know to what lengths her Master would allow him to go in his anger. Her heart pounded in her chest and she suddenly felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt before.

The belt was yanked upward once again, this time forcing her forward onto her face. She felt something being attached to the loop on the back of the belt, and realized it was the chain. She heard a scraping sound, as though a piece of furniture was being dragged across the floor. Daring to look toward the sound, she saw her Master pulling the stepladder that she had been using to paint earlier. He stopped just beside her head, breathing heavily. He pulled out the ladder, climbing to the top step. She heard more clanking of the chains, and then a snapping sound just above her. Her body trembled in response to the snap, and then she felt her knees come off the floor as the belt was being pulled ever upward.

She hung suspended, her ass in the air, legs spread by the board, and her elbows on the floor. She felt her arms jerked forward and pulled tight. Sir Manyon was using part of the rope to tie the leather cuffs on her wrist to the legs of the chair. He grunted. She didn’t know if it was from the effort of tying her, or from the sight of her exposed body suspended from the ceiling. All of her senses were on overdrive, and she felt as though her heart would pound a hole through her chest wall. Finally he was still, and she could detect no movement from either one of them.

Her hips were swinging slightly, back and forth and back and forth. She heard a creaking sound coming from the hook overhead. Her heart was racing, her pussy was throbbing, she felt the inside of her thighs grow cold where the air touched the wetness, and more than anything, she felt the men’s gaze on her body. She closed her eyes, willing something to happen, not being able to stand the waiting any longer.

Finally her Master walked forward and tied something around her eyes. It smelled like him, and she guessed it to be his hankerchief. He pulled it tight, blocking any possibility of sight for her. The smell of him was strangely comforting, and the feel of his hands on her head was like a narcotic. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I own you.”

In her fog, she had not paid attention to the sound of footsteps behind her.

THWACK! The searing sting forced a scream from her lips as she tried to scramble forward away from the pain.

“Ohhhh God!!! Ohhh God, ohhh please no…” she sobbed.

THWACK! THWACK! Two strikes in rapid succession…

Her body convulsed forward from the force of the blow. She sucked in her breath, gasping out a hoarse scream. Her body went rigid as she sobbed, her hips again swinging back and forth from the chain. Once again, she felt a finger plunge into her roughly. The feeling of a finger being thrust into her tight pussy, combined with the burning pain on her thighs and ass was too much. She felt weak and lightheaded and would have fallen had she not been suspended. The finger withdrew from her pussy, leaving her aching. She tried to push herself backward toward the withdrawn finger, but was unable to move herself. She was seeing stars inside her blindfold.

After a moment, she could hear nothing but the sound of the creaking hook above her, and her own labored breathing, The skin on her thighs and ass was hot and numb. She wondered how much longer she could take the ache between her legs. Suddenly, she felt something caress her wet slit lightly. It wasn’t a finger, but it caused her to spasm involuntarily, nearly coming instantaneously. It stopped and she began to cry from frustration.

“Please, I can’t take it anymore…God please, I’ll do anything…” she whispered hoarsely.

She heard heavy breathing from one of the men standing next to her, then felt him step over her, straddling her hips. She felt her legs trying to spread wider in response, felt her swollen labia open. Again, she felt something tickle her pussy, and she moaned out loud, begging him to touch her.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” It was Sir Manyon’s voice above her.

“Yes…oh, God yes…, she whimpered.

THWACK! This time it wasn’t the paddle, but the riding crop. And it landed not on her thighs or ass, but down the crevice of her swollen lips.

She writhed forward violently, screaming over and over again, trying desperately to escape the new searing fire between her legs. The edge of the crop end caught her right on top of her clit, and she felt herself losing consciousness. She felt hands gripping her ass and suddenly, a tongue on her burning clit. She exploded immediately, coming in rolling waves, one after another after another. She continued to cry out, losing all sense of where she was or who she was. She felt as though she rose out of her body and was watching herself writhe under Sir Manyon’s tongue. Gulping in large breaths of air, she was suffocating.

The next sensation she felt was a large cock being rammed into her ass. She sucked in her breath again, feeling another orgasm shake her body. She hadn’t opened yet and her ass was on fire, but the sensation was causing her body to explode over and over again.

She lost track of all time until she felt the searing drops of liquid on her back – hot wax. Her back tensed, making the thrusting of the cock in her ass even more intense. Several more drops of wax fell, and then a slap with the riding crop across the side of her thigh. By this time, she barely felt the pain anymore, only the increasing pressure on her ass as her whole lower body continued to contract.
She felt barely conscious, and was only vaguely aware of the cock being thrust into her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, taking it deep into her throat. It was Master’s cock, she tried to smile with it in her mouth.

A blissful sense of calm came over her as her body began to relax. She sucked at his cock greedily. He grabbed the sides of her head and thrust himself into her mouth, shooting hot jism into her throat. She swallowed every drop, still sucking to seek out more. Sir Manyon grabbed her shoulders violently and shot his seed into her ass. She felt the warm liquid spill out instantly and run down her thighs. It was silent except for the heavy breathing of all three of them.

Sir Manyon pulled out and got to his feet shakily, removing the wooden plank from between her knees. He unbuckled the belt from her waist and untied her hands and feet. Master was still kneeling in front of her with his softening cock in her mouth. He looked down at her face as Sir Manyon stroked her back. She managed a smile this time. He took her face in his hands, removed his cock from her mouth, and kissed her deeply.

Both men stood and helped her to her feet, walking her over to the couch. They sat her down in between them and rubbed her reddened thighs. Her Master leaned to her ear, laughing softly and telling her what a good girl she was. Sir Manyon adjusted her corset, placing her breasts back inside it and cupping them softly. He stood and walked to the chair to retrieve his things.

“Your Master brought me here tonight to show off his favorite possession,” he spoke quietly. “I must say that after a most unfortunate first impression, you have redeemed yourself without question.”

Sir Manyon walked to the door, opened it, and was gone. Natasha looked at her Master’s kind eyes and knew she had been forgiven. But tomorrow, she might just forget to check the machine again…