My first collared submission: Part two …

“Sally.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Go and get the profiteroles.”
I brought them in and placed them on the table.
“Now stand in front of the fireplace.” I complied. “Place your hands on the mantelpiece either side of you.” I stretched them out. “Move your feet further away and stick that bum out.” I did. Silence. I knew he was enjoying the view; I pushed my bum further out and risked a gentle wiggle.
“Good girl,” he said, failing to suppress a laugh.
“Thank you, sir.”
After some time, he came up behind me. His hands touched my shoulders and slowly flowed down my sides, past my hips, and down my legs to my feet. I took a deep breath as he did so. He came all the way back up and undid the clasp on my bra. Pulling one arm through at a time, he stripped it off me. Still from behind, I felt his hands move from my back, under my arms, and slowly enclose my breasts. As his fingers sought my nipples, I was suddenly aware of how hard they were. He played with them gently and I whimpered at the touch.
Hands moving again, he reached my knickers. Putting a finger in each side, he slowly peeled them over my bum. As they came down, I felt them separate from my sex and realised how wet I was. I didn’t feel that horny, not filled with lust. But something was working. He slid them down my legs and lifted each foot to remove them. I heard him move away and sit down.
“Spread your legs, Sally”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wider.”
I was now vulnerable. If I let go with my hands, I’d fall forwards. He let me stand there for some time.
“These are good. Do you fancy one, Sally?”
“Yes please, sir.”
He brought the plate and put it on the mantelpiece. Picking one up, he put it to my mouth, but as I was about to take it, he pulled it away.
“There’s a price.”
I looked at him. He was enjoying this.
“One profiterole costs six strokes of my choice.” He ran his hand over my naked bum, making me shiver. “Not now; later. Still want one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Defiance, Sally?”
“No, sir. Just a price I’m willing to pay.”
He smiled and placed the profiterole in my mouth. It did taste good. His hand was still feeling my bum, occasionally slipping down to my thighs. I was beginning to swell now.
“Another one?”
“Yes please, sir.”
He fed me another one, and his fingers ran right across the top of my thighs, brushing past my sex. I quivered. Then gasped as his fingers gently separated my lips and moved backwards and forwards a few times. My hips rose to meet his pressure. He watched me as he withdrew them, and put one to his mouth, sucking it. He gave me the other finger, and I licked it greedily.
He leaned close.
“Dirty little devil, aren’t you?” he whispered.
“Yes, sir.”
He sat down, and I was alone again. My arms were beginning to ache, taking a lot of my weight. I willed myself to ignore it and was surprised when I realised I could. I concentrated on my position, on the feelings in my body, on my arousal. On the music playing. On how he was watching me. I pushed everything else out of my mind. Nothing else seemed to matter. I was his. At this moment, he was all that mattered, even time became meaningless. I smiled as another piece of the jigsaw slotted into place.

“Sally, you may stand.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now on all fours, bum to me, shoulders on the floor.”
That was harder than it looks; I’d been practising.
“Are you horny, Sally?”
“Yes, sir,” I admitted.
“Good. Play with yourself.”
I reached back between my legs and started to stroke myself. I knew he liked to watch me, so I enjoyed doing it. Right now, I needed to, though it wasn’t so easy in this position. But again, I gave in to my feelings, letting my need guide my fingers. I was soon building.
“Use the other hand on your ass.”
I wondered how I was going to do that, but shifted my weight onto one shoulder, and was able to reach. Taking my own juices, I rubbed them around my hole and started to stroke and probe. I could feel my breathing getting heavier.
“Push that finger in.”
I pushed gently, and my ass accepted my finger, stretching around it. But it added instantly to my level of pleasure. I was near now. Nearly there. My body started to stiffen.
“Right, Sally. Stop.”
I heard, but it took a second or two to sink in. I managed to stop, but only just. Just at the moment when the need was greatest but unsatisfied. A literal anti-climax. He let my breathing subside.
“Good girl.”
“Thank you, sir,” I managed to say through gritted teeth. He got up and left the room, but my head was facing the other way, so I only heard him return. My breathing was back to normal now, and I felt the sense of calm again. Then I felt coldness hit as he dropped lube on my bum and spread it around. He slowly inserted his thumb into my ass, and I felt his fingers enter my pussy. Firmly squeezing and sliding them, he proceeded to stimulate me, quickly building me up again. And again, stopping as I got perilously close. I let out a cry of frustration.
“Patience, Sally. Patience.”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped. “Sorry, sir.”
He withdrew his fingers, and I felt him ease a plug into my bum, one of the bigger ones.
“Sit up.”
I pushed myself up and sat on my heels.
“Would you like another profiterole?”
“Yes please, sir.”
“Help yourself.”
I went to get one.
“I think that’s eighteen so far …”
“Can I have another one, sir?”
“If you wish. But that will be twenty-four.”
“Yes, sir.”
I took another one and went back to him as he stood up.
“Take my shirt off.”