“Really? What about Spencer? How’s that going?”

“The divorce is coming along. I’m fine, really. Over it.” Even as I spoke I wondered if that was true or if I was just hiding from my feelings with my internet sexcapades.

“So are you dating yet?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you should really get out there. Get back on the horse, you know. Or at least have some fun.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I will,” I said, though I was thinking, “If she only knew.”

A couple of weeks later I set down an armload of bags on the floor in my living room, located the bottle of wine I’d opened the night before, and poured myself a glass. Taking a sip, I sank into my comfy couch and put my feet on the coffee table. After an afternoon of shopping with my mother, I was ready for some relaxation.

I considered turning on the television, but MC and I had a “date” planned for that evening, so instead I fired up my laptop to see if he messaged me. It had been several days since our last session, and I was really looking forward to another one. Sure enough, there was an email from him. Subject line: FOR THE THIRSTY SLUT. That made me smile, in an “aw, isn’t he cute” kinda way. Shaking my head, I wondered if my mind was now permanently warped since I thought it was cute for him to call me a thirsty slut.

You will be all set up by midnight. I want you in your fuck chair, riding that cock, and watching these videos while you wait for me… Understood?

And no coming!

Then he gave me a list of video links and signed his note:

Be a good fuck-whore.

Nice. I giggled to myself, trying to picture any man I knew in the real world saying something like that to me. It seemed totally over the top and insane, but the man knew how to use profanity and capital letters to his advantage, I’d grant him that much. For the session he asked me to get out my rubber band belt, individual elastic rubber bands, and my “fuck chair.”

I imagined the pain the elastics would cause and winced in anticipation. Our tryst via Skype wasn’t for several hours so I relaxed, made myself a sandwich for dinner, and took a long bath. Even though he wouldn’t “see” me, I spent a lot of time primping for our date. I couldn’t help myself. I was excited, and it made me feel more attractive, getting ready for him. The scent of perfumed lotion filled the air and I blew my hair dry, even though he would have never known it if I’d left it wet and dripping onto my shoulders. When I was satisfied with how I looked and it was about ten minutes until the appointed time, I assembled all the toys he’d requested on the bed, and clicked a link to the first video he told me to watch.

I wasn’t sure when he planned on getting online, but since there were several videos, I positioned myself over the dildo on the fuck chair, mounted it, and hit play. The first video was of a girl fingering herself. I tried to mimic her movements, reminding myself the whole time that I wasn’t allowed to come. I’d learned enough from MC by now to know that he loved me to come close, and then make myself hold off because he said so. It was part of the control I found so intoxicating.

The second video was interesting. It involved a naked woman stimulating a man’s erect penis with the bottoms of her feet. There she was, lying back on what looked like a doctor’s examination table, her legs bent like a frog’s, but the bottom of her feet cupped and stroked an erect penis. The man wasn’t visible, only his penis, and it freaked me out a little how much his voice sounded like MC. He wouldn’t have me watch a video of a woman jacking him off with her feet without telling me it was him, would he? But then why have me watch a foot stimulation video anyway? It was bizarre, and not really a turn on.

The third video was labeled “amateur deep throat.” It was mildly hot, but mostly there was a lot of spit and eye makeup running down the girl’s cheeks. As I watched it, I halfheartedly raised and lowered my pussy on the dildo in my chair, wishing MC would make his appearance. Without him, I was getting bored. The video was just finishing when I heard the whale call of Skype. I answered breathily, “Hello?”

“Sophie.” His tone was matter of fact, as if he knew I would be there. There had never been any question in his mind. And why would there be? He owned me. At least in our mutual fantasy world he did.

It didn’t take long for me to sense MC was in a bad mood. From the moment he arrived at the party, I felt like he was searching for a reason to punish me.

“Are you ill-prepared for our session tonight?” he growled when I fumbled as I clamped my nipples and slid on the attached wristbands.

“No, sir. I’m prepared. I only dropped one, that’s all.”

“Take that elastic band and pull it down over your hips so that it pulls against your ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now I want you to flick it against your ass. Hard! And I want you counting to twenty as you do it.”

“Yes, sir. One,” I said, as I plucked the band away from my skin and let it go.

Snap! Dang, that hurt more than I was expecting. I’d only done it around my waist before, but doing it this way it stung more because it was already pulled more taunt from the beginning.

“Two,” I cried, doing it again. And the stinging pain took over. This wasn’t about arousal now, this was about punishment and taking the pain of it to please him.

“Three…” I whined my way up to nineteen, occasionally moving the belt to a different part of my bottom so as not to injure myself. I wanted to be able to sit down the next morning.

“Twenty,” I whimpered.

“I’ll bet that ass is nice and striped, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now straddle that cock, take it inside you. Unclamp those nipples and I want you to pull on them, twist them. Pull on them.”

“Yes, sir.” I removed the clothespins, letting them dangle from my wrists and I pinched and pulled at my nipples. The agony was exquisite, then I twisted them and I almost came right then. But we’d come far along enough in my training that I wasn’t supposed to come without MC’s permission. My orgasms belonged to him and he now wanted me to come on command. My concern was that I wouldn’t be able to.

“Now, I want you to smack that ass with your hand. Spank yourself hard, and I want to hear it.”

My butt was already screaming from the rubber bands, but I did as he asked.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Freak, it hurt. But I loved having him in control, telling me what to do. It was like a drug.

“Is the little bitch ready to come?”

“I-I don’t know…” I stammered. I had been a minute ago, but now I was focused on the pain that wracked my bottom cheeks.

“Tell me you’re a greedy girl and you need your cunt to come.”

“I’m a greedy girl and I need my cunt to come,” I repeated robotically.

“Now fuck that pussy. Fuck it hard. Stroke that clit!” His tone came across extra sharp tonight, and suddenly I wanted to cry. But I fought back my tears and did as he asked. I also yanked on one nipple because that had worked earlier.

“Yes, sir,” I managed, and I stimulated myself as best I could. But I felt pressured at the same time, and it robbed some of the fun from our session.

“Do it. I want you to come, you greedy little fucktoy. Go ahead, make that cunt come for me.”

I was almost there. Fucking, tugging, stroking myself into a frenzy. I wanted so badly to come for him, and I didn’t dare fake it. Not that he’d know, but I wouldn’t be able to withstand the dishonesty of that.

Eventually, I climaxed and I thought I heard him come as well, but our session ended awkwardly that night. I wasn’t sure if I was hormonal or getting my period, or if we were simply out of sync. That happened to all couples, right?