A Slave Girl's Torment by Leasha

This confession is the second part to one dated 22/2/14.  It follows along on the same theme.  A third part by Leasha is still to follow.
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By now it is mid-day.   All this evening's guests have arrived and have been correctly checked through the systems. Check-in has been handled by the house's slaves, and each room has been specifically adjusted to match the individual needs of each of the guests. The guests pay rather a lot of money to spend time in the castle, and Mistress is always cautious in the choice of each room to ensure that it is tailored to the whims and desires of its occupant.

The house is spread over six levels: four above-ground levels and two below-ground levels. Three of the four upper levels have been set apart for the guests, but the top level is a private one -- for Mistress and hers. Each one of the guest levels follows a theme, and each of the bedrooms and suites have been exquisitely decorated to match the theme.

I sit up in bed, uncurling from a tangle of silken sheets, and I shudder against the coolness of the room, my shoulders quivering.  I shake loose the silken sheets, and the light material slips downwards across my breasts exposing my pert pink nipples, flushed with excitement.  The lower parts of my body are still enshrouded in the silken sheets. After a cat yawn and stretch, I gaze at tiny droplets of sweat  that glisten against the pale porcelain of my skin. The afternoon sun is streaming through a gap in the curtains, casting dancing shadows upon this four poster bed .

The tinkle of a bell in the distance signals the beginning of lunch.  Leaping from the four poster, scrambling to all fours, struggling to disentangle the silken sheets, I panic.  I realize that i have 'slept in'.  The erotic sweet scent of my pussy, still wet, hangs in the air.  A mixture of sweat and cum coats every inch of my skin, betraying my arousal; its glistening wetness is evident on my thighs and outer lips.  It evidences the telltale signs of a naughty masturbating slut: me. The thoughts of my encounters with Mistress earlier in the morning hang in the air.  All signs point to an unmissable tell that I have been a naughty slut.

Assuming 'the position', my legs spread wide, my back slightly arched, my breasts pressed out for Mistress's inspection, my eyes down cast to the floor, I wait, with bated breath -- knowing and anticipating the wrath to come.

Against the polished wooden floor, I hear the clip-clop of stiletto heels ,

I wait, my breath caught in my throat, mouth drying, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

I hear the sound stop, not daring to look up.  I know she has not taken enough steps.  My mind races.  Can she tell? Is my scent so strong that she can smell me down the corridor?  My breathing hastens; I hear pounding in my ears.  I know she is close now,

Even knowing that trouble awaits, I still can feel my body flushing,  teased,  aroused.   Her hand is on the door handle. She is there! I know she is teasing me, holding me in suspense. I want her, need her, and desire her with every fiber of my body.  I am craving her like an addict.  A small simple whiff of her perfume is enough to provoke a dampness between my thighs.

Goosebumps coat my already flushed skin.  I hear the click of the handle turning in its brass lock.  I shudder in anticipation, then I follow with a gasp and a sigh of relief.  There she stands: my Mistress.

Keeping in 'the position', I await her inspection,


She gives a touch to my chin and I feel her breath on my cheek.  Trembling with excitement and fear I raise my head, my eyes still locked to the ground.  There is barely an inch between our lips.  Taunting me with her exquisite beauty, I sense the wondrous fullness of her flush pink lips, so close. I can smell her.  I reach forwards, a wanton girl, seeking out the touch of my Mistress. She of course knows I would do this. Her hand locks upon my chin, squeezing my jaw, and with a flick of her wrist my head is jerked downwards.

Down I go, my face touching the floor, my ass spread in the air -- on display. The wetness of my pussy is evident to her eyes.  Shameless and brazen, despite my whimpering sobs, I plead and I beg her to use me as her slut,

Mistress laughs a cold, powerful, teasing laugh. Reaching into the cabinet she removes a gag.  I can hear her movements and sense her whereabouts in the room.   Spreading my lips apart, she forcefully inserts the gag.  Saying in a alluring whisper "Stay, my slut!" she leaves the room. I stay motionless, gagged, with my pussy bared for all to see, my face to the floor.  A soft sob of need leaves my lips -- as I wait.................