I'll devise thee brave punishments for her

"The holder of authority is like the rider of a lion - he is envied of his position but he well knows his position."

How odd that things transpire before your eyes-my previous blog was a reflection of my mood, not becoming to that of a slave I have a bit of an attitude and a mouth at times. It seemed my words were also that of my mood. I was very defiant and well I acted out for the most part of the day “..your rather demanding.” Comes to mind I hear it oft. Master was at home yesterday and I puttered around with my usual domestic chores. I was in a great mood and hummed while I went about. But every answer that came out was spent with 'attitude'. I had been warned several times that day to watch my mouth, demands are not tolerated. Hmmm. Trouble with authority comes quickly to mind. So t'would seem I mouthed him off with small snippets of sarcasm. My ass was repeatedly slapped for the transgressions; even by dinner time the wooden spoon had come out, me attired in a peacock flaming long flowing skirt, the sharp smacks by the spoon stung something fierce, but I alas wanted more. Craved more!
“..such a slut you are. Whose slut are you?” He growled with her pinned to the kitchen wall.
Her curt and tartly reply got her a slap across the right cheek for her vailent efforts. “..I belong to my Master, I am his slut...” A girlish giggle as she squirms.
“..not good enough.” He growled.
He bent her over as he turned her around pushing her head to the wall, her check pressed hard against it. He tugged up her skirt exposing her legs, a slight golden bronze now that summer was half past. He raked his fingernails over the backs of her thighs leaving an angry tainted welted trail. Her ass pushed up, his left hand pushing at her lower back her slit exposed to him, he took two fingers from his right hand and pushed them into the deep dark wet folds. His thumb ran over her clit poking freely out from the soft pink hood. He grunted as he lift and brought down his left hand over the fine white curve of her pert ass. The sharp crack sound reverberated through the large kitchen, once, twice-three times his hand came down. As her exclaimed shock and reap of pain echoed too in the kitchen.
“..you make too much noise.” He said in a low warning whisper.
Her growling defiant grunt came out before she could think about it. This agrivated him even more as he growled, leaned over and bit her on the neck with his teeth twisting her soft flesh between them. This brought a fight upon his hands as his head ducked down, and started on the sensitive side of her body and he showed no mercy, just raw heated lust. The more she fought, the more strength he pushed on her bending her to his will. His teeth nipped sharply there twice before he shoved her roughly against the wall, a picture fell off the wall shattering on the floor near them to the left. Grappling her wrists in his right hand, his left fumbled and dropped his pants, stroking his cock which already throbbed to life with her defiant actions.
“..No noise...”
He pushed forward with his hard cock, the tip finding its mark but not going in, struggle to gain entrance to the tight opening. He heard her whimper as she knew what was coming next. He released the grip on his cock and brought it down hard against the right cheek of her ass, he did not stop till it glowed an angry red hue. Her body writhed against the wall, squirming. He knew she was crying he could hear her murming mewing, and the sniffles of suffering. Good. He felt better.
“..open up you bitch...”
She cried harder now and he thrust forward, invading her, as her body contorted against the wall-he impaled her there. Pushing harder into her almost to the point of bouncing her body against the wall, her breasts mashed hard against the cool surface with each pounding embrace. One hand on her shoulder, fingers digging in like daggers, the other a vice like grip on her breast, nipple pinched tightly between his fingers.
But he was not going to give her the full satisfaction. That was his way as well. Restraint, calm and always in control, no matter the situation. He yanked his soaked member from her. And that was it, he would give her no more, that was her punishment-part of it. The rest would come at bed time later this evening, where he would release his pent up frustration. He bent over and pulled up his pants.
“..go make yourself useful. Make me some tea.”
He walked back to the table leaving her there, assunder, skirt hiked up, her hair dis-shelved and her body quivering, with a want so bad she would almost kill for him to take her again. Already the bruises on her sides from his bites appeared like badges of courage. Her ass it was a dark red but fading, she wanted more. The scratches tiny thin trails of his brutal anticipation. Was this wrong that she wanted more, loved him more after everytime?