EXTRACT FOR
ULTIMATE DIRTY TABOO COLLECTION
(Kim Hardwick)

"Pig, you are never going to forget this night.  Remember that."  

Marcus removed from the drawer something metallic, shiny.  Placing it on the nightstand, next to the lamp, I realized that it was two pairs of nipple balls.  Magnetic, that is.

I've read about them, but have never had the privilege of having Marcus use them on my nipples.  Hopefully Marcus purchased the heavy duty magnets.  After two years of his loving attention, my nipples needed something a bit more sophisticated to replicate the pain he inflicted during our initial courtship.  After two years, my nipples have gotten jaded and now require elevated levels of pain to replicate the delights of the past.  I'm a big girl now and need big girl toys.  Damn it, I have to get used to calling him Master.  What is wrong with me?

Master next removed a double row pinwheel.  Probably for my labia.  Obviously there was no way to confirm it, but I imaged my eyes dilated at the sight of the pinwheel.  Master was certainly being imaginative.  He was really going to make me pay.  Good Master! I was getting so aroused.

Oh no!  Just thinking about what he would do to me triggered an involuntary orgasm.  Oh Lord, please help me!

"Master, I beg your indulgence."  Master had to be made aware of what had just occurred.  As his slave, there is no such thing as having an orgasm without Master's permission.  This is one of Master's important rules; a commandment, so to speak.

"Yes, pig, you have my permission to speak."  Master was always correct.  Firm, yet correct; a true Southern gentleman as he once confided in me.  This adherence to a value system based on an archaic code of honor is one of the reasons why I love Master so.  Aside from his physical beauty, as well as his knowledge of my body and how to maximize my pleasure, both reasons enough for my devotion, the main non-physical attraction for me is his iron willed devotion to living my his personal code.  The fact that he will never compromise on certain issues regarding how he lives his life, only strengthens my love and devotion to him.

 "Master, contrary to your instructions, I have just experienced an orgasm without having first received your express permission.  I humbly request that I be subjected to any unspeakable punishment you may determine to be proper, in addition to what you may yet mete out." 

 Part of me trembles with the knowledge that a proper punishment could entail any level of physical and or psychological debasement.  However, the trembling isn't from fear; far from it.  I tremble with unmitigated lust and anticipation.  No punishment meted out by Marcus can be too painful.  None, whatsoever.  My nerve endings call out for him.  And what is really, truly delightful, is that this punishment, as yet to be decided, would be in addition to what he was preparing only now to administer.  How lucky can a slave be?

Master looked at me for a few seconds.  His hands pulled out of the drawer.  Whatever toy he was going to take out, remained in the drawer.  His hands went to his side, and then he brought them to the front and folded them before his belt, as if he were cupping his balls.  Dressed in a burgundy colored long sleeve cashmere sweater, ($2,000 at Brioni) as well as his usual black Ferragamo jeans, he was exceptionally attractive today; but of course, I am biased.  

Indeed, the more I serve Marcus, the more he takes of my shaved pussy and waxed anus with his cock and his toys, the more beautiful he is.  Sometimes, I find myself, when having dinner with him in a cozy little Italian restaurant, just staring at him, wondering why he chose me and not Karen or the others to be his slave.  

My often blatant display of adoration in public has gotten me in trouble before.  Marcus feels it's a relic of my former position in society.  Marcus demands adherence to the proper protocols.  The protocols call for discretion and suppression of public displays of affection.  In other words, all typical behavior BM, Before Marcus, was forbidden.  

After hooking up with him that night two years earlier at the bar, I haven't looked back at my choice or in my love for Marcus, so as far as I am concerned, yeah, everything BM sucked.  Big time.  

 "Pig, we have had this talk before.  My recollection is that only just last week, you came and confessed to an identical infraction.  What you referred to as an 'oops orgasm' doesn't exist under the rules you have sworn to abide by.  Pig, you knew beforehand there was no such thing as an 'oops orgasm' yet you have repeatedly, almost ad nauseam, continued to experience them.  You know that if you experience an orgasm, it is only by my permission."  

He was right of course.  Not that I regretted any O, but he was right.  My will power, as far as denying my body the pleasure of Marcus is concerned, is so weak it's almost nonexistent, really.  I am so deserving of a flogging.  Just thinking about it brings me to the edge of another 'oops orgasm'.

 "Pig, it's no secret that I find you and your devotion to me and the discipline I provide, as well as the sharing of my life, pleasing.  Furthermore, I am not ignorant of the underlying motive for your continued transgressions; this need of yours to experience my discipline on a more frequent basis.  

However, I'm afraid that you have mistaken my affection for weakness.  For you today, it will be a most unfortunate misunderstanding."  He stepped away from the nightstand and took a few steps so he was now facing me.  Looking down, he reached out to grab the silver chain hanging from my nipple attachments.  

"Come Pig, come and accept your discipline.  Follow me to my Master Bedroom for your lesson."  Marcus always knew how my mind worked.  No matter how subtle my subterfuge, he always saw through it.  God, I love that devious mind of his.

His tug on my nipple chain was my signal to get up and follow him as he led me to his room.  The clicking noise of my black high heel pumps as I walked on his waxed wooden floor only increased my arousal.  The feel of the nipple rings being pulled by the silver chain and having the weight of my body being pulled by the thin titanium chain, produced a stab of pain that was both delicious and welcomed.  As far as I am concerned, there is no such thing as too much pain.

He stopped before the king sized bed I purchased for him last Christmas.  It was the most expensive model I could find.  A Savoy from London, custom made for him and costing over $75,000.  I still recall the look on his face the night that he broke it in by flogging me and ravaging my asshole.  It was one of my happiest Christmas' ever.

"Jill, in case you are wondering why I am not now referring to you as pig, it's because, frankly, at the present, you don't deserve to be my slave.  An occasional lapse is understandable; however, your frequent bouts of noncompliance suggest that perhaps you are no longer happy in your role; perhaps you desire another Master."  He stopped talking and looked at me with his usual penetrating look.  

At that moment, I froze; suddenly I realized that perhaps I had gotten a bit carried away.  My taking Marcus for granted by not following his directives may have jeopardized my relationship with him.  The realization of just how perilous my position was as his slave hit me like his bamboo cane.

"Master, please, it was a lapse that will never be repeated.  I humbly beg your forgiveness and for a final opportunity to demonstrate my devotion to you.  Please."  I was actually starting to cry.  The thought of Marcus cutting me loose was actually making me physically sick.

Marcus didn't say a word.  He dropped the chain and slowly walked around me.  Under the circumstances, it was imperative that I absolutely follow the protocols of being a good slave.  My eyes were fixed to the floor.  My head was bent down in the proper submissive pose.  I managed to relax my body, and push forward my breasts as well as tuck in my stomach; make myself as sexually alluring as possible.

I heard him stop behind me.  I instinctly leaned forward slightly and pushed my ass back, exposing my anus and pussy for his possible use.  At this crucial moment, when my status as his slave was hanging by the balance, it was essential that I adhere to His rules regarding His use of me.

My strawberry blond hair was tied up in a ponytail just the way he likes it.  Additionally, I was wearing his favorite black leather under bust corset, tiny black bikini panties and black lace stay up stockings from Neiman Marcus.  He loves how I look in black, and I like how I feel in black.  My black Jimmy Choo pumps rounded out the clothing.

 "Pig, I have decided on your punishment.  Even for me, by my standards, it is a vile and truly unsettling reprimand.  However, under the circumstances, you have left me with no alternative."  Marcus gently ran his hand over my toned and athletic ass, following the contour of my body and finished by pulling on my right nipples.  The sharp little sting took my breath away.

I felt him press his finger up my anus, as he pushed the hem of my bikini panty aside.  The pleasure is so sublime. The feel of his thick middle finger, combined with his copper ring with the raised Nordic rune, pushing past my sphincter elicits a truly delicious sensation 

"Pig, lean forward so I may further proceed with your punishment," always the gentle Master.  I do so worship him.

SMACK!  SMACK!

Yes, this is more like it.  The sound of his thin wooden cane, imported from Italy and purchased for him at Paul Stuart, was always shocking when he used it on my generous buttocks.  The pain was also quite invigorating.   Good, Master seems to finally realize that he cannot let his love for me cloud his judgment.  My recent spate of unacceptable behavior needs addressing.  The time has come when Master has to decide whether I am to be his slave or his girlfriend.