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Used. Abused. Taken with no regard for her own pleasure. Punished with sex and alternately called pet and slut. Her emotions were toyed with, her head was all over the place. Her ass throbbed and her pussy wept from neglect. And she wanted more.
Emily rolled onto her back, still half on and half off the bed, and cast her eyes downward, catching her first view of his magnificent cock. Not sure if it was allowed, she quickly looked away and thanked him for her punishment.
With a nod, he collapsed on the bed beside her and sighed. "Daddy is tired, my pet. And hungry. I should order us some dinner."
Too nervous to eat prior to her trip to the dungeon, her stomach growled at the mention of food. She was tired too, but she was also excited, and alit with all the raw need and desire that he’d built in her, only to refuse to appease. She wondered if she would be allowed to eat with him, and if he would choose her food or simply ask her what she wanted. Hunger wasn't her only pressing need.
"Daddy?" she asked weakly, testing out the word for the first time outside of the throes of passion and punishment.
"Yes, pet?"
"Permission to speak?"
"Go ahead."
"May I please use the facilities?"
He propped up on his side, perching himself on one elbow and raised a brow at her. "You may, but you must crawl, my pet. Walking is a privilege you have not earned."
Nodding with wide eyes, she slowly slid to the ground, remembering the collar she still wore. She set herself onto all fours, like a cat or a dog, and scampered to the bathroom to relieve herself. She could still feel his cum squishing around inside her, and she desperately wanted to clean herself. She craved a shower but knew that would not be allowed. Kicking the door closed with her foot, she paused to take a look around the massive bathroom.
The submissive rooms, of which there were only a dozen, two connected by a common area on each end of each level of guest rooms of the hotel, were nothing compared to this. Her bathroom had a small tub and shower combination, but this had both. The tub was a deep clawfoot regal looking thing that she longed to fill with bubbles and soak in with a good book. The floor was a cold white tile that hurt her knees, and she pulled herself to a standing position now that she was out of sight.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the massive mirror above the sink, she stared at her reflection. Her perfect ponytail was mussed and matted with sweat, and her makeup was nearly faded, with mascara stains down her face, not from tears but from being smashed into the bedcovers while he pounded into her from behind. Her eyeliner was smeared too, and her cheeks were puffy and red.
Most startling of all, however, was her nakedness. It had felt so natural she’d forgotten to be self-conscious about it. Turning, Emily stood on her tippy toes and looked over her shoulder. Her bottom was red and welted from the belt, with marks that striped down the tops of her legs, past what she could see in the mirror. Tentatively, she reached back to poke at a bruise that was just starting to form. It was hard and knotted underneath, and the skin around it was warm to the touch.
Her mouth rounded in an ’o’ of surprise. Even in her scenes with other doms on past visitor weekends, she had never been punished like this. She had never had marks like this. She craved more.
Turning back, she stared at her front. Milky-white and unmarked in contrast. She looked at her perky breasts, with her nipples pebbled at attention, and wondered if he would touch them. She closed her eyes and squeezed one of them in the palm of her hand, imagining his rough hands on her, squeezing and twisting. She imagined his lips closing over her nipples, teasing, licking, biting. She imagined him flogging her breasts, scolding her as the falls of the flogger whipped against her nipples, leaving their own tiny little marks.
Emily whimpered, and the hand that had been squeezing her breast made its way down her torso to her privates. Just as her finger rested on her engorged clit, a sharp knock at the door startled her and she pulled away as if she had been scalded. She knew without being told that touching herself without permission would not be allowed and would be severely punished.
"Five minutes, pet," Master Cole, Professor Rogers, Daddy snapped through the closed door. "If I have to come in there after you, you’ll not like the result."
She didn't have a watch or a phone, and she wasn't quite ready to see what punishment he would dream up next, so she hurried to relieve herself, letting his cum leak out of her as she sat on the toilet. When she was finished, she cleaned herself with a wet washcloth and patted herself dry. She looked once more at her reflection and wondered if there was enough time to wash her face.
Fuck it, she thought. The streaks and stains were battle scars, and she would wear them proudly. Lowering herself once again to all fours, she slowly creaked the door open, and crawled out. She stared at the floor and stopped at his feet, waiting for his command.
He chuckled, and she wondered what that meant. Had she not met her time limit?
"Just in the nick of time, pet," he growled. "I ordered dinner while you were taking care of your needs. It should be here shortly." He leaned over her, and the sound of metal scraping the floor behind her told her he was getting the leash. He spoke no words as he fastened her to the bedpost once again.
When she was secured, he stepped back and looked at her. She could feel his gaze on her, and she resisted the urge to hide herself from him.
"Such a pretty little pet," he murmured, his voice low with raw appreciation. "But something is missing."
His footsteps were heavy as he walked across the room. A door squeaked open, and she knew it must be his closet. Drawers creaked open and banged shut, paper rustled and plastic tore. And then again, heavy footsteps as he crossed the room, stopping when he was in front of her.
"Look up," he barked, and she quickly obeyed, forcing herself not to wince when she saw what he was holding. A metal butt plug in each hand, but these were not ordinary butt plugs, attached to the base of each was a thick, fluffy tail. One was gray, and poofy with a white tip, while the other had long, brown hairs that went straight down and curled up slightly at the end.
A pony and a cat? She wasn’t sure if she was being given a choice or if he was going to choose for her, and just wished to tease and torture her a bit first. It was definitely the latter, she realized as he grinned widely, mockingly looking back and forth between the two plugs.
"Let’s see, my pet, what kind of pet are you? A horse, a bit dirty and unkempt that I shall love to ride, or a pretty kitty, who I shall pet and feed milk from a crystal bowl? I know, you’re both," he declared with a grin. "But I shall choose the kitty for now because I think it suits you and because if you are a good girl before bedtime, maybe I will reward you with a pet to your own pretty kitty, hmmm? Shall I lap you up like you’ll lap up the milk I’ll serve with your supper?"
Her pussy or kitty, as he called it, throbbed anew with the promise of attention. Shamelessly, she wiggled her bottom in pleasure and rubbed against his legs once he was close enough to touch. She wanted to be his pretty kitty.
"I suppose that settles it." He tossed the ponytail plug aside and grabbed the bottle of lube he had used earlier when he had fucked her bottom. "Look away," he commanded. "Eyes on the floor. You no longer have permission to gaze upon your Daddy."
