Fly Free (A Post By Heron)

He stared up at the beautiful slave as he sat, one leg folded over the other in the arm chair in their bedroom.  She presented herself, hands clasped behind her head, legs spread slightly apart.  Eyes downcast.  A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as she stood before him.

He had loaned her out to another for the weekend.  The Mistress that he had given her to had pushed her hard.  Tested her.  Challenged her limits. Marked her.

Had he done the right thing? What if he had failed her?  What if he had not prepared her properly for what had happened? What was the look on her face?  Was she afraid that he wouldn’t love her after the things she had done? These thoughts ran through his head as he stopped, just short of touching her.

He knew there was only one way for him to find out.  He wanted to reach out, stroke her cheek, but he didn’t think that would ease the thoughts that were bouncing around in her mind.  He wanted to release her from worry, but he wasn’t sure how.  So he did the only thing he knew how to do….

When he rose and moved towards her she flinched slightly. 

He spoke to her cruelly asking if the marks belonged to the Mistress.  She could only nod.  He touched her tits.

“Did the Mistress whip these?”

“Yes sir”, she barely whispered.

Moving behind her, he touched the bruises on her butt.  “And did she leave these?”

Again she whispered, “Yes sir.”

Circling her again, he ran his fingers along her jaw and turned her head.  “What about the bruises on your neck? Did the Mistress have other men suck on your neck?”

The first tear appeared in the corner of her eye.  Again, she whispered, “Yes sir”.

“Did the Mistress allow men in your mouth?  Did you suck cock?  Did you swallow their come?”

Even as she nodded, the tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I know what you did and how many times.  You danced for other men.  You begged for their cocks.  And then you sucked them.  Didn’t you?”

More tears and a choked “Yes sir.”

He began to fire words at her. “Do you know what the Mistress was doing?  She was passing you around.  You were nothing more than a piece of meat. As a matter of fact, you had to beg like a whore.  Right?”

She sobbed slightly, tears streaming freely.  “Yes sir.”

“You. Are. A. Whore.”

He spat the words at her.  He thought that this might be her greatest fear.  The look behind her eyes, but he wouldn't know until he spoke the cruel phrase. 

She tried to hold her position, but as she heard his words she broke and began to sob uncontrollably. 

“No”, he said forcefully, raising his voice for the first time.

“You will not cry.  I will take all of those marks back.  You belong to me and it’s time I reclaim you.”

He held her for a moment, allowing her to regain her composure.  Holding her close.

Placing her back in position, he examined her breasts and asked her what the Mistress had used to whip her tits.  When she replied, he grabbed the implement from his bag.  “I’m going to whip them harder.  These are mine”, he said simply.

He used the leather on her tits as she sobbed.  He stopped using the leather only after the breasts were an angry bright red.

Then he bent her over.  Grabbing a cane, he walked back over to her.  “Your ass is mine.  I will not stop until I have covered all of her marks.”

He struck her over and over.  She sobbed freely, but didn’t move, even as he crisscrossed her ass with welts.  

When he was satisfied that he had covered the Mistresses bruises with marks of his own, he stopped.  He could only stare at her.  She was bent over, sobbing and shaking.

“Move to the bed”, he ordered.

Sobbing softly, she did as required.

He positioned her and traced the barely visible words on her stomach.  “What did this say,” he asked, even though he knew the answer.  For the Mistress had written two words on her midriff.  The words noted her for what she was. She had been required to parade around with it all day for everyone to see. 

She could barely bring herself to say the words, “Cum slut, sir.”

He grabbed a marker and moved next to her.  He wrote over the words to supply his own…Heron’s nyghtbird. She couldn’t help but smile, as he said, “There.  Now I own that as well.”

He traced the bite marks on her thighs.  She winced in pain as he did so.  “Did she bite you?  Did she mark you with her teeth?”

“Yes,” she replied softly.

He lowered his mouth to her bruised thigh.  He kissed the wound softly and she moaned.  He took her hand and placed it on the side of his face.  “This is going to hurt.  I’m taking that bite mark as my own and it may make you scream.  I want you to push me away when the pain is too much.”

He looked at her once and then his teeth covered the bruise.  He heard her cry out, not caring how much it hurt her.  Harder and harder he bit, waiting for her to push him away.  His teeth dug into her and he felt her hand on his face begin to move.

To his surprise, she cupped the back of his head and pulled him down harder on the wound.  He increased the intensity and heard her gasp in pain, but still she held him to her flesh.   Finally, afraid that he would draw blood, he pulled himself away from her and stared at her.

She was panting, but he understood the look in her eyes all too well.

He moved on top of her.  She moaned softly and greedily as he slowly slid himself into her. 

Then he grabbed her head and turned, exposing the marks on her neck. Whispering softly, he said, “Your neck is mine.”

He lowered his mouth to the bruises. She gasped as she felt his lips touch her neck.  First he kissed the marks softly, then biting and finally sucking hard on her neck.  Once he was satisfied that he had covered the bruises with his own, he turned her head the other way and lowered his mouth to her again.

Then he was sucking and biting again in an attempt to erase all traces of the men who had marked her.

Finally satisfied, he turned her head to face him.  “Look at me,” he ordered.

She faced him, barely able to look in his eyes.  

“All of the marks that were made have been covered with mine.  There is nothing that you did, that you weren’t supposed to do.  You were required to obey.  To submit.  My marks will erase any guilt, for there should be none.  My marks take away any self-doubt, for you were required to serve her.  My marks take away any thought that I would not love you. Do you understand?”

She nodded.  Tears began to fill her eyes once again.

“Do not cry my love,” he whispered as he kissed her softly.  He moved his hand underneath the small of her back and pulled her tightly to him. He began to kiss her again and again.  She responded hungrily.

Their bodies began to move together.  A harmonic dance they’ve practiced thousands of times before.  He knew her body well and could tell she was nearing her climax.  “When you orgasm,” he said to her, “You are my cumslut.  You are my whore. You were not marked by anyone but me.  You are mine!”

With his words, her orgasm neared, “Please sir may I come, “she cried out.

“Fly free my nyghtbird,” he whispered softly in her ear.

And she did.