Page 39 of Dozer

He slowed and squeezed my right shoulder. “Good girl. Breathe through it. Let your arousal settle a little.”

After a half-dozen times of slowing so I could regain control and then working me up so I was close again, Master ordered me to come, but then it took nearly ten seconds for me to manage to let go of it and find release.

But when all that energy finallyexplodedinside me, I think I moved more than I ever have before, trying to deal with the spasms and contractions rippling through me, undulating inside me over and over until I wasn’t sure the orgasm was ever going to subside. Fire shot through my veins and was soothed by the bliss of release, and I screamed until my voice echoed back to me.

And then it was over, and I locked my legs so I wouldn’t collapse on the floor. The table held most of my weight, but my legs still threatened to collapse.

“Good girl. Turn around and clean my cock, little slave.”

I rotated off the table so I was on my knees facing him, and he spread his legs so he was low enough I could reach his cock when I was kneeled up. I licked his cock and balls, getting all my juices off him, and he stepped back and zipped himself back into his pants.

“Good girl. Stand and grab your elbows.”

Thankfully, he grasped my upper arm and helped me stand, because I was still shaky. He stroked my nipples, pinched them a little, and just like that, my clit was throbbing again.

Master smirked and then placed my hands so I held his hips while he put the hood back on me. He only gave me orders I could handle. Master knew what his slave needed.

When the hood was back on, he rested a hand on my shoulder and told me, “Grasp your elbows again. Stick your tits out.”

The second I was in position, Master effortlessly lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, but I held back the whine my body wanted to give. I don’t like being carried this way, but I figured he wouldn’t care how I felt about it, so I didn’t tell him — and refrained from being all whiny about it, because sometimes he’s amused when I use vocalizations to show him I don’t like something, but most of the time he’s just annoyed. I was also careful to continue holding my elbows behind my back. If he gives me a position order and I fail to hold it, he ties me into that position for hours, sometimes until the next day.

I’m pretty sure he went into and out of every room in the basement more than once, and there was once again enough spinning, I was completely disoriented by the time he walked meupstairs. He sat me in a chair and backed away from me slowly, making sure I was okay in the chair before he let go of me.

“You get extra points for holding onto your elbows even after I picked you up. You can let go now, and it’s fine to take the hood off. Feel free to wash your face and use the restroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I heard his footsteps going downstairs, and I felt the back of the mask, where he’d manipulated something to tighten it onto my face. It took me a few seconds to figure out the mechanism, and I lifted it off my head and placed it carefully on a table before I made my way to the bathroom.

He was on the sofa when I returned to the living room, and Master motioned for me to come to him. “There are all kinds of ways to lean over someone’s lap. Today, we’re going for comfort, so you’ll be stretched out on the sofa with your ass over my legs. Do whatever you want with your hands — beside you, under you, or maybe even under your head.”

It turns out, the act of lying over someone’s lap is awkward as fuck, and once I thought I was there, he repositioned me, so my butt was higher in the air.

“This is a reward spanking, which means it’s supposed to be a good hurt. If it turns into a bad hurt, you’re allowed to say the words, ‘bad hurt’ to let me know. When you’re being punished, that’s the whole point, so if you ever tell me when you know damned well I’m already aware, the pain levels will increase dramatically. Now, explain what I’ve just said in your own words.”

“You’re giving me a way to let you know if it’s a bad hurt today because this is supposed to be something I like, but you don’t want to hear my opinions when I’m being punished for real, Master.”

He patted my ass. “Excellent grasp of the facts, little flower.”

The heat of Master’s humongous hand rested on my lower back, and the warmth soaked into me. His other hand smoothed over my bottom, and I suddenlywantedto feel him strike my bottom again. But then his hand lifted into the air and I braced for the strike.

“Stay relaxed for me. No tensing.”

I wiggled my toes and forced my butt muscles to relax, and then his hand slammed onto one cheek and then the other, the sound reverberating to the walls and back. The muscles tensed again, but I relaxed them as quickly as I could, and I marveled at the entire concept of agood hurt. I’d have never believed it, but damn if his terminology wasn’t exactly right. It hurt, but I wanted more of it. I mean, not alotmore, but still, more.

Master found a rhythm I could fall into, not terribly fast, but there was no more pausing. Right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek. Over and over, impact after impact, until the warmth of his hands became the heat of my ass.

And my hips took on a life of their own, moving and squirming, lifting my naked butt up in offering, begging for more, and more, andmore.

Master began hitting a little harder, but no faster, and my groans and moans turned into yelps, but no way did I want him to stop.

His hands are huge, and meaty, and eventually I felt the impact more than the sting. It was a different kind of pain, but still a good pain — though right on the edge of bad.

But I didn’t want it to stop. My skin depressing with the impact, the muscles underneath absorbing the force, over and over.

It was almost too much, almost more than I could handle, and then his hands were around my sides, and he lifted me, sat me on his cock, and pressed me down. It hurt and I yelped, but I didn’t tell him it was a bad hurt.

“Give me a second, little flower. This is still your reward. Hang on.”

He lifted me, pressed me down, and then lifted himself off the sofa a few inches, moved his hips forward, and told me, “Feet flat on the sofa, knees pointed towards the ceiling.”

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