The List

She groaned and leaned back in her chair, slowly counting to five. He disabled another oxygen system and watched the tiny crew of the spaceship on the screen panic and begin frantically working to fix their air supply. Finally, she shook her head and looked over at him. “You are not allowed to give internet advice anymore. Ever. In a million million years.”

He pushed more power to the shields and looked over at her with a frown. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

She turned back to the computer and started to read. “NewSubHawksFan asked how he could best approach a dominatrix, and you suggested that he taunt her, in the hope that she will become so cross that she will make a mistake. Those are words, that you made in your head, and sent to someone else, who was looking for help.”

He tried not to laugh and failed, then forced his expression into a somber stare. “It’s a classic movie, she might go for it, you never know.”

She shook her head. “I really don’t thinks so.”

“Buy you a Coke if she murders him?” He tried not to grin, but not very hard.

She forced herself to count to five again, and then sighed. “I’ll tell you what, since you have time to dispense internet advice, and you’re an absolutely horrible person, you can make me a list.”

He glanced back at the screen and paused the game. “What kind of list?”

She fished a notepad and a pen out of the desk, and tossed them over to him. “I want a list describing what each of your body parts is for. You can get to work on it now.”

He saved and exited the game, then flipped open the notebook and found a blank page. He leaned back against the couch, and started to write.

Its eyes are for being blindfolded.
Its ears are for hearing orders.
Its mouth is for drinking piss.
Its neck is for wearing a collar with a leash attached.
Its back is for being beaten.
Its nipples are for being clamped.
Its chest is for being punched.
Its hands are for being restrained.
Its cock is for being tortured.
Its ass is for being beaten.
Its legs are for being beaten.
Its knees are for kneeling.
Its feet are for being caned.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up and held out her hand.

He walked over, and handed her the pad of paper. She plucked the pen from his shirt pocket, and chewed on the end while staring at the computer screen. He stood there for several minutes, waiting patiently, until she minimized the screen and slid the keyboard back. She dropped the notepad on the desk and pulled the lid off the pen.

“Hmm… let’s see.” She went down each line, crossing them off one by one. When she was done she handed it back. “That list isn’t specific enough. You can use it as a reference, but start over. I’m also surprised, are you sure your cock is only for torturing?”

He looked down the crossed off items and nodded, then met her eyes. “No ma’am, I mean yes ma’am, I mean…”

She nodded and handed him the pen. “Get back to work.”

He looked at the previous list carefully, considering each item, then started writing again.

Its hair is for being pulled.
Its head is for being stuffed in a bag.
Its eyes are for being blindfolded.
Its nose is for being clamped.
Its ears are for hearing orders.
Its mouth is for being gagged, silencing it and letting drool fall out.
Its tongue is for licking boots, cunt, and ass.
Its throat is for swallowing piss.
Its neck is for wearing a collar with a leash attached.
Its back is for being beaten.
Its nipples are for being clamped.
Its chest is for being punched.
Its stomach is for having degrading words written on.
Its hands are for being restrained.
Its fingers are for massaging your sore muscles.
Its balls are for being tortured.
Its cock is for fucking.
Its ass is for being beaten.
Its asshole is for being violated, with dildos, buttplugs, or hands.
Its legs are for being beaten.
Its ankles are for being hobbled.
Its knees are for kneeling.
Its hands and knees are for crawling.
Its feet are for being caned.

He looked over the list again, then a second time, and put the lid back on the pen. He stood up and walked back over to her. She took the pad of paper, tapped it against the desk, and started reading. “Interesting additions. I note that you didn’t mention your cock was for having orgasms or coming. That seems like an unfortunate omission.”

He leaned over, and scanned down the list. “Was that an option? Because I could add that.”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No, this list looks fine without any revisions. We’ll start going through it now, although I think I’ll start at the bottom of the list. A good caning across the soles of the feet always focuses your attention wonderfully.” She looked up at him. “And we will go through the entire list, or we’ll start over at the beginning until we do.”

She grabbed his belt and dragged him closer. “I bet your balls are going to be really full after you fuck my brains out and don’t come. It’s going to be so much fun torturing them with your cock all hard and frustrated, dripping pre-cum, and you fighting not to orgasm. Maybe I’ll milk you before and after just to see how much cum they make while fucking me. It ought to be nice and cold by the time we get to your tongue is for licking.”

He shuddered and closed his eyes, leaning back just far enough to keep pressure on the waistband of his pants, to feel her grip on his clothes. “Yes ma’am.”

She let go and watched him stumble backwards. “Take your clothes off and wait for me in the bedroom with the cane in your hands and your feet out. And what did we learn?”

He tried to keep his thoughts fuzzy while still processing the question. “Not to give bad internet advice?”

She nodded. “When we’re done, you’ll write something about the merits of taunting dominatrices and hoping they’ll become so cross they’ll make a mistake.” She stood up, and smashed her lips against his. “Because a mistake might be that I forget where I am on the list, and have to start over. Now go.”

He moaned and licked his lips as she pulled away, and then shuffled towards the bedroom. She saved her document and shut off the computer, grinning to herself. His horrible ideas really made it easier to do this, and she loved him for it. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

It would ruin all the fun.

He was waiting for her in the bedroom, naked, sitting on the bed with his feet outstretched. She nodded in approval at the towel under his ass, and the cane in his hands.

“You don’t like the cane much do you?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

She shrugged. “No point in warmup then. I think I’ll do one foot, then the other. That way it can last a little longer.”

He grimaced and she slammed the cane into the sole of his left foot, watching the meat and skin distort with the force of the blow. His leg jerked, the force traveling up his body in a spasm. He exhaled sharply, forcing the air out of his lungs, trying to breathe through the searing flash of pain that erupted in his foot.

She felt a sudden warmth travel through her, and her eyes slid half closed as she watched the pain travel through him. “Do you want to count them, or should I?” She pitched her voice several octaves higher, and tilted her head to the side. “Because I’m such a silly billy sadist, I might make a mistake.”

“One!” He breathed in and clenched his fists. “One ma’am.”

She nodded. “Smart boy.” Then she hit him again.

His body jerked and his breath rushed out of him, more pain erupting in his foot and traveling along every nerve ending in his body to his brain. Somewhere in his choking pain he croaked out, “Two, ma’am.”

She pushed him as hard as she could, her own excitement building, barely letting him recover before hitting him again. The cane whipped through the air, the sound a charming prelude to his sounds of torture. The meaty slap as it hit his flesh, the shock that coursed back through the cane and down her arm to some place deep inside her, the sound of him counting out the strokes.

“Three, ma’am.”

The cane slashed through the air, and his body jerked again. “Four ma’am!” The pain started to pile up faster than he could deal with it. “Five ma’am!” He wasn’t trying to breathe through the pain anymore, just to breathe. “Six ma’am!” His body jerked further and harder with each stroke, and her breaths got faster. “Seven, ma’am!” His hands were balled into fists, holding tight to the towel, and she could feel her fingers itching to play with her cunt. “Eight, ma’am!” His eyes were clamped shut, trying to block out the pain, and she licked her lips at the sight of his contorted face. “Nine, ma’am.” He was holding his leg down with his hands now, forcing it to stay flat on the bed, and her thighs were trembling at the sight of how hard it was for him to submit to this torture for her. “Ten, ma’am, fuck!” The last blow bounced off his foot, ten angry red lines across the bottom of his left foot. She loved the contrast, the sight of the horizontal streaks on his skin. She wanted to run her tongue across them, to taste and feel the broken skin and popped blood vessels.

She exhaled sharply, and smiled at him. “Good boy. I’m very proud of you.” She watched him rock back and forth slightly, looked at his still clamped shut eyes and his posture. He needed a break. For that matter, she needed to get herself a little more under control as well. “Go get the black marker from the dresser.”

He nodded and slid off the end of the bed. She watched him hobble over to the dresser, favoring one foot, hopping slightly each time it hit the floor. She slid the cane through her hands, itching to make his other foot match, to restore symmetry to him. He hobbled back, wincing with each step, and held out the marker. She shook her head. “Oh no, that’s for you. I want you to write what your foot is for on your foot, the top I think, and then we’ll start on the right.”

He nodded then sat back on the bed and pulled his foot up to himself, sitting half cross-legged. He pulled the lid off the marker, and awkwardly scrawled “For caning” on the top of his foot in blocky, jagged letters. His hands still trembled slightly in pain, and her fingers twitched in pleasure. He put the lid back on the marker, and set it down on the bed, then looked up at her expectantly.

She grinned back, and stepped to the side, lining up her body to start working over his right foot. The cane smacked into him, and he started counting again. It happened faster this time, both of them were closer to the edge, more eager to get there. The initial doubts and hesitations, the uncertainties about whether they were in the mood for this sort of thing, if they’d be able to connect, if there were too many other things going on had disappeared.

She inflicted pain on him, and it reflected back onto her as pleasure. He saw her pleasure, and it made him want more pain. His hands still held his leg down, his body jerked and spasmed and complained regardless of what his mind wanted. Nerve endings frayed and fired, and he began to sweat. She swallowed hard, almost drooling at the sight of him suffering, and forced herself to set a deliberate pace and not just hit him as hard and quick as she could. To let the pleasure build rather then gorge herself on it all at once and swallow it as fast she could, let it run down her chin and splash on her tits.

“Ten, ma’am!” He counted out the last stroke, and her breathing was as hard and fast as his. She waited for his eyes to flutter open, and pointed at the marker. “Write it down.” She tried to think of a way to make it funny, to add a joke or a comment, but all she could think of was the wonderful feelings bouncing around her body and mind.

His hand shook as he scrawled out the big, block letters on his other foot. She nodded when he was done, and thought about the list. “Next is crawling, I believe.” She chuckled then, and smiled. “Maybe you’re smarter than I thought.” One eyebrow bounced up. “Or maybe not.”

Next Chapter: Hands and Knees Are for Crawling and Knees are for Kneeling

Copyright Jerry Jones.

Thank you for reading, around 200 more stories involving loving female domination, and subsequent chapters of this story, are available on my blog at http://littlesubmissions.wordpress.com/