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/

"Stay." She patted him on the head as she walked by, and added a little extra wiggle as she left the room. He slumped a little, and tried to ignore the burning pain in the soles of his feet as he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. He could hear her rummaging around in drawers, and tried to block out everything but the memory of warm, fuzzy pain and submission. His eyes slid closed.

"Off the bed." He opened his eyes and slid forward. Her back was towards him, and she was fiddling with something on top of the dresser. When she turned, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the knee pads they had bought last year to redo the floors. She squatted down and set them carefully in front of him. His breath hissed through his teeth when he saw the grains of uncooked rice in each plastic cup.

"Lay down, face on the floor." He looked up at her with pleading eyes as he lowered his nude body to the floor. Her hands grabbed his legs one at a time, lifting them up and slipping the pads under his knees. The nylon straps wrapped around his legs, cinching down tight. She curled his leg up and pushed down, testing the tightness. He gasped as the hard grains but into his knees, and she smiled. "And to think not that long ago you thought people used cooked rice for this."

He grunted as she repeated the process with the other leg. "You have to admit it does help get rid of left overs."

She snorted and slapped his ass. "Not if you order extra fried rice with every meal, it doesn’t. Roll over and sit up."

He turned over and did and awkward situp while she retrieved more items from the dresser. "Put these on." She carelessly tossed him two heavy leather gloves stained with sweat and varnish, leftovers from the same project, and walked back over with the box of rice and a roll of tape.

He pulled the gloves on each hand and held them out. She pushed his hands down, pulled the wide mouth of the gloves open, and dumped a generous portion into the gloves. She grabbed the leather palms and pulled them out so the rice could settle between his skin and the leather, and then picked up the roll of tape. "I don’t need you wasting my good rice spilling it all over the floor, and I certainly don’t feel like running the vacuum later."

She started the tape and began wrapping it around the opening of the gloves, sealing them against his skin. The adhesive pulled the glove down tight against his skin. She stood up and grinned down at him. "Well, you said your hands and knees were for crawling. Crawl."

"Yes ma’am." He rolled over, wincing as his knees hit the floor and grains of rice dug into the thin skin and hit bone. He pushed down with one hand experimentally, and grimaced as the rice ground into the meatier flesh of his palms. It wasn’t as bad, but still an annoyance, a reminder that each movement would cause pain.

Her foot hit his ass and he rocked forward and back, hissing as his weight shifted and the rice found new spots to torment. "From one side of the room to the other, until I come. Then you can stop, but not before."

He nodded and started a slow, shuffling crawl, forcing himself to pick up one knee and move it forward, the extra weight on the other knee bringing a sharp twinge of pain. Then a hand as he balanced on his knees and other hand, then the other side of this body. She grinned down at him, then shimmied out of her panties. The green cloth slid down her thighs then her legs until it emerged from the bottom of her sun dress. She raised one ankle and pulled them the rest of the way off, and considered carefully.

"What the hell, you were good through the caning, I’ll give you a little reward." She caught up to him easily and pulled the wet cloth over his face, letting the crotch dangle over his face. One eye looked up at her from a leg hole, and he grinned. "Thank you ma’am."

She grinned back and put one foot down on his hand, slowly increasing her weight, driving the rice into his hand further. "You’re not crawling."

He turned his eyes back down and started a slow shuffle forward again. She hopped on the bed, lying on her side, and pulled her dress up around her hips. Her hand started to play with her clit, rubbing gently in a small circle. She watched him crawl across the room, his hesitant, jerking motions as the pain shifted across his body from one point to the other.

The rice bit into his knee when he moved his opposite leg forward, and she pushed down a little as she saw the pain in his eyes. She let up as he moved his hands forward carefully, testing carefully before he put them down. She rubbed faster as he turned around and she saw his semi-hard cock hanging below him as he tortured himself for her. Despite his protestations, he was getting off on this, and the thought made her smile and slide her fingers up and down her slit.

He could hear her gasps and the wet, fleshy sounds of self-pleasure as he forced himself to move across the room. When he wanted to fall over on his side and let the pain fade he listened to her breathing, getting faster and more out of control, and focused on that as he forced his limbs to keep moving. He tried to block out his pain and focus on the sounds of her pleasure, to catch glimpses of her from the corner of his eye, to memorize every detail of her half-closed eyes and her fingers working on her cunt as he reached a wall and turned around in an awkward semi-circle.

She grinned and shifted her hips, putting on a little show for him each time his eyes wandered over. "Faster, crawl faster, or I’ll go take a cold shower and order a pizza. You’ll be doing this for an hour before I come back." She made her hand slow down then stop, linger over her pussy without touching it.

He groaned but forced himself to move faster, move less carefully. The rice drove itself into his skin and bones as his hands and knees came down harder, and the pain came in hot spikes that wracked his entire body. The kneepads made lot cracking sounds as the hard plastic collided with the floor, and the leather gloves made meaty slaps as they hit the floor and drove the grains of rice into the palms of his hands.

She moaned and started jerking herself off faster and harder. He lurched across the room, and she saw the spasms of pain cross his face faster, each one distorting his features a little more. His movements got awkward as his body started to instinctively flee the pain, and it became harder for him force himself forward. He flailed and slapped his way across the room like a crippled animal, and she sighed and rubbed her clit a little harder.

"Ugggghhhhh…" She moaned and came, timing it as he was halfway across the room. He turned his head as far he could and rushed forward, nearly colliding with the far wall before he started turning in a slow circle, eager to see her come.

She carefully pulled her fingers away and let her dress fall. Her body slumped on the bed, and she listened to her heartbeat and gasping breaths, and the sounds of his crawling in the background. "Oh, take a break." She smiled magnanimously at him, and rolled over on her back. "Lay down on your side. You earned it."

He stopped and carefully lowered his body to the floor, laying on his side, his knees and hands still raw and burning from where the rice had gouged its way into his flesh. He looked across the room at her and smiled, until…

"Besides, next up is kneeling, and you’re going to need the breather."

She flopped over on the bed, tired and warm and satiated. Momentarily. She played back over the events in her head as her breath slowed, and thought about what was going to happen next. Her skin started to tingle, and she rolled over to look at him and smiled. "Okay, I’m ready now."

His head raised slightly and he grinned back at her. "Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to wear you out."

She hopped off the bed, her dress fluttering down around her legs, picked up the trash can by the bed and walked over to him. "Smart-ass. I appreciate the concern, but I think I’ll manage. Give me your hand." She took his hand and started working the tape loose. The sharp hiss of adhesive coming off skin matched his sudden inhalation. She pulled it off slowly, letting him feel every hair that was ripped off along with the tape, enjoying the looks playing over his face.

She slipped the glove off, dumping the rice into the wastebasket and setting it aside. Her fingers slid across the dimpled flesh on his palms, plucking out bits of rice and dropping them in the wastebasket. His fingers twitched and she imagined the pain from fresh blood bringing oxygen to the damaged cells, and felt the damp warmth of his skin. She ran her fingers along his palm, then let go of his hand. "Other hand, please."

The tape ripped off again, more hair and skin latched onto adhesive and deposited in the waste basket. The rustling sound of uncooked rice falling out and hitting the plastic trash bag. She picked out the few grains that remained in his palm, and felt herself getting hungrier. She paused for a second, considering. "Okay, down on your stomach. Let’s go those kneepads off. As much as I enjoy them, I’m going to need you on your knees for awhile, and uncooked rice is a little bit much."

He shifted over so he was laying on his stomach, and felt the velcro bands coming undone. She lifted one leg out of the plastic cup, and brusquely ran her palm along his knee, knocking off the hard grains. They fell into the kneepad, and when she was done they were dumped in the trash, the kneepad carelessly tossed aside.

Her hunger was growing, and she didn’t feel like waiting anymore. She picked his other leg up herself, ripped the fastener in two, and scoured his knee with her hand. The rice went in the trash can, the kneepad bounced across the floor. She stood up, letting his leg fall to the floor with a clunk. "On your knees now, that’s what they’re for, after all."

He pushed himself up and shuffled around to face her, then rose up on his knees. The air felt cool, and the carpet was a pleasant sensation after the gouging sensation of the rice. Her fist wound itself into his hair and clenched, and he followed awkwardly as she dragged him along and positioned him facing the bed, several feet away. "Stay."

She growled the word, while she pulled her dress up over her head and off, then folded it and set it aside. She pulled a book off the shelf, something thick and bulky, and set it carefully on top of his head. "Don’t let that fall off. If I have to stop and put it back on, I’m going to be pissed."

He forced his back a little straighter, and tried to feel the weight of the book on his head, anticipate which way it might shift and fall. She hopped back on the bed, and grabbed a pillow. She shoved the pillow under her head so she could look at his eyes, and sighed. The vibrator hummed on and she started gently working it up and down her slit.

He started to lean forward and felt the book begin to shift. He swallowed hard and slowly moved back, keeping it in place on his head. She licked her lips and pushed the vibrator against her clit a little harder. "Ah, you remembered. If you can get over here without the book falling off before I come, I’ll let you finish me off with your tongue. If not, too bad."

She teased her clit with the vibrator, running it in tight circles over the flesh, pushing against the nerve endings. He swallowed hard, and began inching forward, his knees still aching. She teased herself as he tested how fast he could go, short, careful movements that placed his knees a little closer to her each time. She watched his progress and moaned, teasing him, driving him on, one eye on his face the other on the book perched on his head.

He shuffled forward, moving faster, desperate to get there before she came. He slid one knee forward, then the other, sliding them across the carpet, ignoring the irritation of the already tender and bruised skin, one knee, then the other–thud. The book hit the floor and her eyes narrowed. She stood up while he trembled, then grabbed him by the hair and dragged him backwards to his starting point.

The book slapped down on top of his head and he winced, then flinched as she slapped his face. One cheek, then the other, back and forth until the book tumbled off again. "I told you to keep the book on your head." She slapped him, hard. "What?" Slap! "Part?" Slap! "Of?" Slap! "That?" Slap! "Did you not?" Slap slap slap! "Understand?" A final slap left his ears ringing, and he pleaded with his eyes. "Sorry ma’am, I was trying."

She slapped him one more time, then turned and walked back towards the bed. "Get it right." She picked the vibrator back up, dragged herself onto the bed, and rubbed her palm on her cunt. The heat from his face melted into her body, and she ground her palm down into her labia, stimulating the sensitive flesh. He started shuffling forward again, and she shifted her hips and spread her legs a little further.

The vibrator pushed against her again, and he started his awkward, painful, shuffling march across the floor, his back locked straight, the book pushing down on his head. His eyes locked on the lewd display in front of him, he carefully moved one knee then the other, ignoring everything but the sight of her and the feel of the book on top of his head.

She ratcheted up the pressure and the pleasure, and he ground his teeth and forced himself to move at the careful pace that kept the book on top of his head. One knee moved in front of the other, inching across the carpet as she pushed herself closer to orgasm. She was panting and breathing hard, short gasps that made her chest heave, as he finally got to the bed, and kissed her thigh.

She shoved the vibrator in his mouth, letting him taste her, and threw the book aside with the other. "Oh god, I thought you’d never get here. Get your mouth on my cunt or I swear to God I’ll kill you." His lips eagerly locked onto her pussy, the short, stiff hairs brushing against his lips as his tongue worked its way over her clit, pushing against it, rolling back and forth across it, tracing circles around it over and over."

Her back arched and the blood pounded in her head as she wrapped her thighs around his head, smashing his face tight against her, holding him there. She could feel his tongue and his breath against her cunt, and her hips rolled, jerking his face along until she erupted, coming on his tongue, her thighs trembling and her legs jerking.

"Ugggggggggggggg." An animal sound came from somewhere deep inside her, and slowly, reluctantly, opened her legs and slid away from his tongue, suddenly sensitive but wanting to hold into the sensation as long as possible. "Come here." She motioned him up onto the bed, and he slid onto it until he was lying beside her. She pulled him hard against her and kissed him. "Good boy." She stroked his hair, and finally opened her eyes. "Good boy. I can’t wait to hobble you."

Next Chapter: Ankles are for Being Hobbled and Legs are for Being Beaten

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/