She is over my knee, naked save her collar. I am still in my work clothes, shoes, tie and all. I haven't had time to shower yet. My pattern was disrupted when I came home and found my sub breaking the rules.M, my pet, gets off work thirty minutes before I do. We have established that she has plenty of time to come home, shower, start dinner, and be waiting for me, naked but for her collar, on her knees inside the front door. Sometimes I need to be sucked off when I first walk in the door, other times I just pat her on the head and send her into the kitchen. Once in a while I'll have her bathe me, or strip me and give me a tongue bath (only in those instances when I'm feeling particularly demanding and evil).But when I came home she was on the phone with her friend. When I entered she looked at me, her eyes wide. She was sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. Her legs were smooth and pale white, very nice. Her body was supple and freshly scrubbed her pubic area cleanly shaven. She had her shoulder length hair back in a loose ponytail on the back of her head. As per my household rules, she wore no makeup. I allowed her to paint her nails every other day, a new color on her fingers and toes (they always had to match), but she only wore makeup when I instructed her to do so."I've got to go, Cindy," M said quietly. "Ok, I'll call you later. Bye."None of M's friends knew how she liked her sex life. She kept it a secret that she needed to be used, to be owned and treated like property. On some level it embarrassed her, but on another level she needed it, couldn't be satisfied without it. She hung up and sunk to the floor, sunk to her knees, and her eyes sunk to my feet. Her shoulders trembled a little, as she slid her hands behind her back and locked her fingers."I'm sorry, sir," she whispered. "I was waiting for you, and the phone just rang. I must have lost track of"I grabbed her by the ponytail and pushed her face to my shoes. She kissed them and pleaded for mercy.It was bullshit. But the begging was part of the fun. Well, most of the fun if I'm being perfectly candid. "Over here, bitch. NOW!" I barked, and walked away. She crawled after me, dogging my heels, still whining. "And shut your slutty mouth.""Yes, sir," she murmured. I have always instructed her to call me 'sir' instead of 'master'. I used to rely on 'master' for my pets until I acquired a black subby. Call my politically correct, but it made me a little uncomfortable to have her call me 'master', especially when I was whipping her, so from then I switched to 'sir' and never looked back. I find there is a stigma of distance and respect that is instilled in our usage of the word.I pulled my belt out of the loops and sat on the loveseat. I patted my lap, as if summoning my dog. Looking sheepish, M crawled up onto my lap and thrust her ass up into the air.I whipped her ass until it was glowing and red. She made whimpering noises deep in her throat; my favorite. I set the belt down and used my hand, pausing to admire my red handprint in between strokes. Finally, after a dozen sharp slaps, I felt her chest start to heave. She was reaching her limit.I pulled her thighs apart and stuck my finger into her twat. She was gooey, oozing enough juice to drown the little man in the boat. I pinched her thigh, twisted it, and pulled her legs farther apart. She had to rest on her hand to keep her balance, as I pulled one leg off the floor to leave her sopping pussy wide open and exposed. Then I smacked it. She yelped. I smacked it again."Who do you belong to?" I asked quietly."You, sir. I belong to you.""You are my property.""I" her breath hitched, "I am your property. Body and soul, yours."I grabbed the knot of her hair and jerked her head back."Say it again.""I am your property, sir."I let her head go, and traced her red ass. I wrote