"Tell me slave.", he said, scraping the edge of his belt up and down the backs of my legs. I was streched over his kitchen table, my wrists were tied together with the silk sash of his bathrobe, the ends of which were tied around a table leg. His hand was pressing down on the middle of my back. My pants were around my ankles and my cock was already stiff and pressing a bit painfully into the hard cold wood of the table.

'Tell you what?', I wondered. I could not answer. His t-shirt was spun into a hard thick rope and the thickest part of it was jammed in my mouth, and it's ends tied behind my head. I bit onto the cloth, and pressed it away with my tongue so that I could breathe. It was already harder, I sucked air thru my nose, but my excitement was increased my need for oxygen and the restriction in air flow was maked me flushed and dizzy.

He seemed to sense what I was thinking. Suddenly he tugged at the gagging tshirt, then put his big hand over my face and stopped the air flow even more for a moment.

"When you can talk. slave, you are ordered to tell me stories of the first times you got turned on by this.".

Pressing his hand even harder over my face, he gve me the belt I had been thinking about and craving and waiting for, in exactly the pattern I wanted, slower and softer at first, but not stopping, getting harder and harder, the sound of it getting louder, the leather hittinng me and each stroke hurting and I didn't like it then immediately followed by a glowing feeling and a rush of pleasure, again and again, like waves in apond, like some kind of music or drums or a heavy base line throbbing in me. Throbbing in me. Throbbing in me.

Oh GOD now he's doing it harder, he;s not going to stop, not going to give me the break I was expecting, he's going to let himself go and take his price right away, ow ow ow OW OWWW OWWWWWWWWW.

It burns. I can feel my ass and upper thighs swelling. This was going to leave marks.

I love marks. I love going to work the next day with secret marks. Even as I start to yell "STOP STOP STOP" into the gag, I love my marks, and I'm glad he isn't going to be nice tonight.

The endorphins are carrying me up. I can't do much, I'm tied over his kitchen table, my mouth is stuffed, it's like being a monk in a cell, I am free to let these brain chemicals flow thru me for the next few hours. I realize I am shaking and moving my legs, that my ass and legs are burning, that I have worked my cock out from the tabletop and it is stiff between my legs.

I hear the sound of the lube bottle spurting into his hand, and I can't help it, I push my face into the table to hide my smile. His left hand is on my cock, slipping over it to spread the lube. He is right handed so his left is more jerky and imprecise in it;s movements. He starts to jerk me, his hand moving at a medium speed, slippery with lube.

"Your a good littke slave, aren't you. You like your masters belt, and thats what a good little slave does, he likes the belt, and likes that his master uses the belt."

God I love it when he talks like that. I moan and my dick dances a bit as I involuntarily try to fuck his hand.

"You have a task, little slave, and if you don't perform that task to my satisfaction, you wont get the belt, you'll get the closet. Remember that slave. Write me good stories of how you became a slave, and you get the belt. No stories, it's the closet for you.". He lets go of my dick. I feel him standing.

I think about the closet. Let me tell you about the closet. In the closet I am tied, usually on my side, sometimes on hands and knees, less often kneeling and arched back. There is not enough room to stretch out. My eyes are covered, and sometimes my ears are covered, and sometimes I am lightly gagged, with just a rope in my mouth.

Always, I have been fitted with a buttplug. Sometimes, my master makes me lie with a bigger silicone cock pushed deep in me. Sometimes, he makes me put in a vibrating buttplug. He keeps the control. Sometimes he is really mean, and never turns it on.

I am covered with a blanket. The closet door is closed. My ass is full. It is dark and quiet.

And he is not here. I think of him. That is the closet.

It's better than you think. You should try it before you knock it.

I can feel him standing. I can feel him in my mind. He's going to use the belt again.

I resolve to write him good stories.

submitted by a slave of Master X

To be continued