Master's wish is my command

This is an adult blog, with frank sexual discussion and BDSM themes.  There will also be squickiness, so be warned.


"I have a task for you," Master told me. "I want you to wear your anal plug for 90 minutes, and after that, I want you to cum 3 times, hard. Then take out the plug, using only your muscles to expel it, if you can."

Mentally, I sighed; I hate that thing, hate it, hate it. Outwardly, I merely closed my eyes and said, "Yes, Master."

I swear, I will never understand his penchant for the plug.

So after my shower this morning, after I had brushed my teeth and dried my hair and lotioned up my skin,  I retrieved my red anal plug, lube, and a large towel. I spread the towel on the bed and climbed up on the mattress, sitting on my knees on the towel. I flipped open the cap of the lube and squeezed out a decent amount onto the tip of the plug. Then I smeared the lube all down the sides, so it was well-coated. I leaned forward, bracing myself on my left hand, and brought up my left leg leg so I could plant my foot on the bed. Then I took a deep breath and, with my right hand, brought the plug to the entrance of my ass hole.

I slowly worked the tip of the plug inside my ass, pushing, then easing, then pushing more. I felt myself being slowly stretched, and at first it was just an odd sensation, a feeling of being breached more than anything. As the plug was worked deeper, the feeling went from breached to stretched to discomfort and burning, and as I pushed the flared base past the ring of muscles, actual pain. I moaned out loud, because it truly hurt. That's part of my loathing - it fucking hurts every single time, and I caught my breath on a sob and chanted "Ow, ow, ow," even as I finally forced the plug into place. I dropped my hand and knelt on the bed, panting, my ass throbbing and sore, and waited several minutes for my body to adjust.

Once I felt I could move, I pulled on my clothes, including a pad to catch the lube and other fluids that would surely be oozing from my entrance shortly.

The first 45 minutes were OK. I obviously felt full - overfull, really - but as long as I didn't move around too much, it wasn't too bad. As time wore on, though, I became more and more uncomfortable. I had been sitting on the tall wooden stool at the breakfast bar, but as I slid to the side to get off the stool, a stab of fierce pain hit me, stabbing me cruelly from the inside, and I gasped. I ended up just sitting on the couch and not moving, because even just shifting my position caused flares of pain to shoot through me.   

Finally, finally, the 90 minutes were up and I hobbled to my bedroom and carefully shucked off my slacks and panties. Master said I was to cum before removing the plug, and I was feeling torn about it. Cumming is good, of course, but the plug was so horribly uncomfortable by this point that I barely cared. I laid on the bed, on my back, with the towel under my hips, and curled up my left leg so that my foot was on the bed. My right leg was loosely bent and slightly open. The plug felt not quite so awful now, but I was still very aware of it. 

I started stroking my clit with one finger, gently rubbing and teasing it, but I was dry, so it wasn't doing much for me. I slid my hand lower, between my legs, and nudged the tip of my finger into my pussy. There - wait - a tiny bit of wetness. Not enough. I pumped my finger several times, working it deeper, and my body began to respond, creating the slick juices I needed to stroke myself. Yes, that was better. I pressed my finger in farther and wriggled it a bit, wetting it thoroughly, then pulled my finger free and started rubbing circles on my clit again. It was better this time, as it was slick and my finger glided over the nub easily. It didn't take long for my orgasm to take me - it had been a while since I'd been allowed to cum, so it crested fairly quickly,  breaking over me in a steady but gentle wave of pleasure. 

I sighed softly, feeling the way my body had loosened and relaxed. My ass was still sore, still feeling too full, but measured against the tingling pleasure of languid muscles, it wasn't too bad. But Master had specifically said to cum 3 times, so after a minute or two for my breathing to calm, I started rubbing myself again. I brought my left hand up, under my shirt, and pinched and teased and rolled my nipples in my fingers, as my right hand stroked and rubbed my clit. This time I felt the need building, the desire slowly working through my body, and I tossed my head and sighed. My fingers kept stroking and teasing, and my hips started rocking of their own accord. 

As the tension in my body built, the need to cum and find release grew, and I began moaning in pleasure as my fingers rubbed furiously and my hips started bucking, seeking that burst of release. The plug in my ass caused quick sharp flares of discomfort, but I was more tuned to gaining orgasm and so could mostly ignore those twinges. My arm grew tired, and still I rubbed and stroked myself, and I hovered on the cusp between need and relief for a long, long minute. And then my orgasm broke over me, a swift and powerful consuming which forced a long, loud cry past my lips and caused all my muscles to lock up, squeezing and tensing as I rode out the waves of intense feeling. And my muscles all squeezed so tightly that the plug was forced out of my ass, and my cry changed from pure pleasure to pain as it pushed past the ring of muscle at my entrance. Damn it, that hurt!

I laid there, panting, my body a curious and none-too-pretty mix of tingling pleasure and throbbing pain. My ass felt stretched and sore and raw, but the rest of me felt tingly and loose. It was distinctly odd.   

I knew Master had said 3 times, so I picked up my tired arm and started rubbing myself yet again, reaching down with my left hand to insert my middle finger inside my pussy and pump it while I rubbed. I was so tired, and achy and sore and so not in the mood, but my need to obey was greater than my lack of desire, so I kept on. And it took forever, I swear, and my arm hurt so badly from the repetitive motion as I swirled my fingers over my clit, and my moans were more of protest than pleasure, but finally my body responded and I arched my back and tensed as I came for the third and final time. And honestly, it felt forced, and was more painful than pleasurable.

I curled into a ball on the bed and laid there for several minutes, until my heart rate slowed and I felt that I could move again. Then I sidled to the edge of the bed and all but fell off, staggering a bit as my shaky legs were forced to support me. I gingerly picked up the plug by the edge of the base and made my way into the bathroom, where I tossed the plug into the sink and went straight to the toilet. Clean-up after a plug is gross, no two ways about it, and lube acts a lot like an enema, so there I sat as my body expelled waste and lube and blood. Yes, there's always blood, as the plug irritates me inside and causes me to bleed. Wiping myself afterward was no picnic, either, as my ass was so very sore. I will be sore for a couple of days yet, and bowel movements will have pain for the next day, at least. It always happens that way.

At last everything was cleaned up and put away, and I wandered out to the kitchen for a glass of water. I sat gingerly on the couch - yes, my ass flared as I made contact, dammit. But I have the knowledge that I have completed the task set before me, and I will be able to report to my Master that I faithfully followed his directive today. 

 

 

Me, My Bed, and I

Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things I'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.

This blog contains frank discussion of sexual situations.

I am on my own this evening, and that's all right. I miss my Master, of course, but I am content with my own company. I've had a quiet night - a little TV, then a little reading while soaking in my bathtub. I love soaking in my bathtub.

But I am water-logged, so out I get, then towel off and wander to my bedroom. I sit on the bed and grab the lotion bottle from the nightstand. Warming the lotion in my hands, I smooth it over my calves, restoring the moisture to my skin where my long soak had leached it away. More lotion gets smoothed over my feet, then I take another dollop for my thighs. I turn my left leg to the side and see my latest tattoo - elegant script on my left inner thigh, proclaiming my status as "Master's whore."

The ink is fairly new, about a month or so old, and it still makes me smile each time I glimpse it. It represents my self-awareness, my commitment to submission, my commitment to my Master, and I am quite proud to wear it, thank you.

I turn down the comforter and slide between the sheets, settling on my back with my left leg bent and a bit out to the side. I scrunch the pillows beneath my head and squirm a little, resettling myself to feel more comfortable. The sheets feel cool on my bare skin, and whisper across my body in a subtly sensual way. If I shift my legs open a bit, the sheet dips between my thighs in a frankly delicious way. Mmmm. That's actually turning me on a bit. I play with that, pulling my legs closed, sweeping them open, feeling the way the sheet slides over my skin. My lips part on a soft gasp, and I shiver.

I shift again and turn my hips a little, which allows the sheet to glide over my inner thighs. I used to have a set of satin sheets, and I loved the way they felt against my skin. These sheets are cotton, but the effect is nearly the same. I bring my hands up to my breasts and start  playing with my nipples, rolling them in my fingers, teasing and pulling until they stiffen into peaks. I bend my knees a little, digging my heels into the mattress, and rock my hips up, allowing the sheet to glide over my inner thighs again. Mmm, that's nice.

My right hand leaves my nipple and trails down my chest, over my stomach, and between my thighs. One finger dips down over the edge of my mound and grazes across my clit. My hips buck up involuntarily, and I let loose a quiet moan. My finger dips lower, seeking the entrance to my pussy, and I press it inside. God, I'm wet already. I crook my finger, gathering some of my juices, and spread them over my clit as I begin to rub myself. My breathing quickens and my heart rate increases as I play, and I can feel the need and the desire building within me.

I rub my clit harder, pressing more firmly, and then pinch my left nipple. I gasp and squeak at the quick sting, my body shuddering. My hips rock of their own volition as my fingers dance over my clit, my gasping breaths a quiet but steady accompaniment. I press two fingers of my left hand into my pussy, feeling how hot and wet and slick I am, then pump them in and out, in and out as my right hand moves almost frantically across my clit. My voice escapes me in a long moan and my eyes squeeze shut as the leading edge of impending orgasm rushes towards me. 

And then in my mind, I hear my Master's voice - "Cum, whore." I arch up off the bed as my climax breaks over me, my inner walls constricting as my juices flood my fingers, my muscles tensing as my body shudders and shakes. I hear myself moaning, loudly, but I can't stop it, any more than I can stop the tremors wracking my body. At last the tension eases, and I collapse to the mattress, panting harshly. My legs are still trembling as I lift my left hand to my lips and lick my fingers clean. Hmm, sweet with a hint of tang. 

I lie there, still panting lightly, as my muscles finally ease and I melt into the mattress. A sleepy heaviness fills me then, and I blink, slowly. I turn my head into the pillow and nestle into its softness, closing my eyes. I whisper my devotion into the stillness of my room, and drift into sleep with my Master at the forefront of my thoughts.  
    

Lists

Lists are deceptive. No, really. We ascribe such power to a few words scratched on a memo pad or an old envelope. And what do we use them for? 

-- Memory joggers. Here's where the grocery list comes into play, or the list of errands to run. We don't believe we can adequately remember what we want/need on our own, so we use these handy notes to remind us. 

-- Time schedules/prioritizing. What's on the agenda? What needs to be done? And in what order?

-- Must-dos. These are the chores/goals to get through today; anything left unchecked (or, if you're like me, not scribbled through) is a sign of failure. Even grocery lists can cause this. How many times have we felt guilty about picking up an item not on our list, or even worse, forgetting to put an item on the list to begin with, and still feeling like we failed when we didn't purchase it?

Since when did a simple list become a key point in self-flagellation? 

My Master says I must create a list for a different purpose - one which details the things I do now, at his behest, things I didn't do before he told me to.

Hmm. It's not really as easy as it sounds, since many of those directives have become so integrated into my routine. But I'll give it a shot.

-- Wardrobe changes. Master decided he'd rather I wore only white cotton panties, and white cotton camisoles. I have not worn a bra in a month or more, and that is definitely something I would not have done, and would not do, had he not insisted. 

--   Collar. I now wear a silver necklace gifted to me by my Master. It is the outward, visible sign of my submission and his mastery. I wear it constantly, even in the shower, while sleeping, underneath other jewelry if i'm so inclined. But I always wear it.

-- Positions. I have mentioned in several of my posts about the positions I assume at my Master's direction. I can think of no reason why I would assume these particular positions for any other reason except that it pleases my Master to do so.

-- Smart Balls. I bought these because Master told me to, and for several weeks I wore them for 4 hours daily, as training. More recently, Master has reduced this to once weekly, still for 4 hours each time. I am to send him a text telling him I am on task each week.

-- Devotion. Again, I have referenced how I repeat these 7 stanzas each night before sleeping in many of my posts. And again, there would be no reason for me to do so except that Master expects it of me. But more and more it has become that I say this for myself, as well, as a way to reaffirm my role and my value to myself.

-- Ink. I have acquired 2 tattoos at Master's request. The first is a circular tattoo, where the phrases "your wish is my command" and "for your pleasure" encircle the word "submissive." Master came up with the basic design, with the wording, with the placement. Even 2 years later, I think of it as HIS tattoo. The second tattoo is more recent (like, a month ago!) and says, in pretty script, "Master's whore." Less than 6 months ago I would not have even considered scribing those words on my skin. That I now have, is proof of my progress in my journey toward submission, and my acceptance of my developing role. 

-- Anal plugs/beads. Using these for training or sexual play is strictly and 100% Master's choice. I  don't like them. At all. Enough said.

So yes, there's my list. There may be more, actually, things that don't immediately come to mind. But this is a pretty good list, anyway.    

Buffet

Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things I'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.

**NOTE - This is an adult blog, with adult content. There will be frank sexual discussion and BDSM themes.**


Recently, while in conversation with Master, he surprised me by offering an unexpected bonus, if you will - we had been joking about "What would you order for dinner if you knew you were going to fuck his brains out later." Lobster? Steak? My answer - which is the absolute truth - was that I'd order something light, small, because I don't do well with a full stomach. I have enough problems with gagging and with stomach things that packing it full, then doing gymnastics in bed is a bad idea.

So he laughed, but I'm sure he acknowledged the truth of what I had said. And then he said he would allow me to cum the next day, as long as I blogged about the "meal" I had chosen to indulge in. (As I said, I was surprised by this, so I asked him if he was giving me permission. I did not want to err due to any kind of misunderstanding on my part. Readers of this blog will see that my appetite has sometimes been quite voracious, indeed, so I wanted to be quite sure of my opportunity.)

And so I told him, I will choose a buffet, where you get to go back as often as you want. He laughed again, and commented that I was taking full advantage of the situation. And why not? 

So I began my buffet in my morning shower. Once I was all clean, with conditioner in my hair, I lifted one foot and propped it on the lip at the edge of the tub. The warm water beat down on my back as I stroked my fingers over my pussy, testing today's sensitivity and wetness. Hmm, a bit sensitive, yes, and I let out a breath on a quiet sigh. I leaned forward a little and bent my knees, assuming a shallow squat and opening my pussy further. My digits stroked over my clit again, then again, and settled into a routine of rubbing in circles, now pressing a bit harder, now easing off a little, and all the while the water rained down over me and my hair dripped in front of my face, and my legs began trembling a bit from the awkward way I was squatting.

I moaned, then, softly, but it sounded loud in my ears. My breaths came faster as the tension built up deep in my belly. My hips began rocking against my fingers, seeking more contact, more pressure, just more. I moaned again, and reached out to brace myself on the shower wall, leaning even farther forward as my fingers sped up, rubbing my clit furiously. I squeezed my eyes shut as I came, sparks bursting behind my eyelids, my legs locking, my voice a long, low moan. I crouched there, panting, for several minutes, as my muscles slowly relaxed and my heartbeat settled into a calmer beat. Then I stood up, my legs feeling a bit shaky, and tilted my head back to rinse out my hair. I felt all sluggish and loose. What a nice way to start the morning.

Later on, as it neared lunch time, I decided to go for my second helping. With Master in mind, this time I took it upon myself to do a little of the training he'd introduced me to. I took 2 clothespins from my drawer and stripped out of my clothes, then laid down on the bed. I attached one clothespin to each nipple, wincing in discomfort as they closed tightly around each peak. Damn, that smarts! I took great noisy breaths in through my nose and blew out through my mouth, again and again, until the pain eased a little and I was no longer solely focused on the sharp squeezing painful pressure on my nipples. 

I reached down between my legs, being careful to avoid jostling the clothespins, and began stroking my clit, soft, easy passes over the nub. Mmm, that's nice. Gentle, easy, slow, an unhurried caress which nevertheless began to build a need, a fire, a burn within me. My breaths quickened, and I shifted on the mattress, which had the unfortunate effect of causing my arm to bump the clothespin. Oh, Ow, ow ow! Dammit! So now I was caught between wanting to cum, and wanting to stop everything and undo those clothespins, because now, of course, I was hyper-aware of them, biting into my tender flesh, clamping unmercifully on my nipples. 

I decided to just hurry up and get it over with, so I pressed my fingers in deep and rubbed so hard that my clit became sore and my arm became tired, but I forced that coil to snap, and my climax washed over me, short and abrupt and not really satisfying at all; but then I removed the clothespins, and oh my god, that hurt so bad! The blood rushed into those abused tissues and I instinctively crossed my arms over my breasts, holding them still as I rolled to my side and curled into a ball. Oooh, that smarted like the devil. I laid there for quite a while - about 10 minutes, I think - until the tenderness receded a little bit and I could move without wincing.

As I went about my afternoon, I could feel my nipples' tenderness if I shifted a certain way or happened to bump my breast on the table or against my arm. By early evening, though, the soreness was almost gone, which I was grateful for.

By late evening, as I was thinking about going to bed, I was ready for another round. Sticking with my buffet analogy, I'd had a really good breakfast, a quick but not-so-good lunch, and now I was ready for dinner and dessert. 

I retrieved Jack  - my favorite jackrabbit vibrator - from my dresser drawer, and made myself comfortable on my bed. I fully intended to enjoy this. I began teasing myself with Jack, lightly rubbing it back and forth over my clit, over my pussy, again and again, then gently probing at my entrance with Jack's tip, just testing to see if I was wet yet. I spent a nice little while doing this, playing, teasing, building up a slow need that wanted more. I shifted a little, and sighed, and everything felt good.

By now I could feel myself growing wet, so I worked Jack in a little further, using little shallow thrusts to coat it in my juices and allow it to slip in a bit deeper, and a bit deeper, until finally it was seated all the way in. Mmmm. Oh, yes, that's nice. I started pumping Jack then, in and out, not using any of the controls just yet, just Jack and me and my own hand. God, that felt good. I sighed again, a bit louder, and my hips rocked up to take Jack in deeper still.

I moaned, then, and lifted my other hand to play with my nipple. Yes, it was still a bit tender from earlier, but I discovered I didn't mind so much. I began fucking myself with Jack, then, working it faster, a bit more forcefully, and a spiral of need lanced through me and made me moan aloud, again. All too quickly I climaxed, a rush of liquid flooding my pussy as my muscles tensed. And it was good, yes, but I am by nature greedy, and I was sure I had another one in me. 

Once the waves of pleasure had passed, I pulled Jack free, wincing as it slipped out and away. I maneuvered up on my knees, sitting up tall with my knees parted, and leaned over to reinsert Jack into my pussy. Mmm, yes, that was a bit tricky, wasn't it? The tissues were sensitive, and I hissed a bit as I worked it inside me. I settled down on the mattress, so that Jack's handled grip was resting on the bed and his rabbit ears tickling my clit. Then I reached down and hit the vibrator's switch with my thumb. My body gave a jerk as the little ears began humming against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

I started rocking, then, moving my hips back and forth, and up and down, and those little ears just hummed away. I arched my back and let out a moan, riding Jack and letting the vibrator work its magic on my clit. God, yes, that's so very good, and I knew it wouldn't take long to make me cum. I tweaked my nipples in my fingers and rode Jack, and felt the pressure and the tension coiling and building and growing and burning. My breaths came in shallow pants as I twisted and writhed, and my hips rocked forward more sharply. 

And then I was at the edge, and just to prolong my sweet agony I bit my tongue and cried out and clenched my muscles and denied myself release, drawing out the painful pleasure spiraling within me. at last, though, I couldn't hold back any longer, and with a loud cry I came, hard, my body bending down to grab the comforter in my fists, digging my fingers into the cloth as my hips bucked and thrashed, and my inner muscles clamped down on Jack. I had to turn off the vibrator, then, as its continued stimulation was too much to bear. I lay there, slumped over on my knees, for several long minutes, as my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal. Then I groaned and toppled to my side, reaching between my legs to pull Jack free. I groaned again as it slipped out amid a gush of hot, sticky fluid. 

And as I lay there, muscles feeling like jelly, I felt a smile quirk my lips. Quite a fine dessert, indeed.  



        

Another Training Day

Warning: this is an adult blog, with adult content. There will be graphic and explicit descriptions of sexual behavior, and contains BDSM themes.



I was fortunate to spend some time with my Master today; it has been a while, and I've been missing him, quite a lot. He's been hinting about expanding my training program, and to be honest, it worried me a bit. I didn't really think he would assign me anything impossible, or terribly painful,  but the worrier in me couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

I admit, I was also worried because I screwed up. I have been given a weekly task, which I am to perform every Wednesday morning, and I have been. Until last week, when it just slipped my mind. And so, I did not complete my task, and Master called me out about it. He mentioned assigning me a punishment for my transgression, but did not tell me what it was ... so yes, I was nervous. 

I donned my standard uniform of white cotton camisole and panties, though these were new, and edged with lace. Pretty, but not fussy, and well within Master's guidelines for my attire. And then I presented myself to Master, and waited with hammering heart and ragged breaths for him to pronounce judgment on me. 

Master took one look at me and sighed.  I had worked myself into such a state of near-panic that I was useless, really.  I stood there, twisting my hands together, unable to meet his gaze. 

"You're scared," he said bluntly. Well. There's no denying it.

"I'm frantic, actually," I admitted, and then fell quiet again. And then we talked, about what had happened, about why I messed up my assigned task, about how he was weighing the need to correct my lapse against the fact that it was an honest error, not done maliciously or in willful defiance.

Once he talked me down, so to speak, I was much more pliable. And I don't mean, I became a spineless lump of clay. I mean, I had my head focused, my attention trained on my Master, my mind clear. And with my head on straight, my training session was more productive.

Master began by having me recite my daily devotion for him. It consists of 7 sentences, each outlining a course of behavior and a mental attitude to which I am expected to conform. It is a general outline of the terms and conditions of my submission to him. I recite it every evening before I go to sleep, and whenever he requests it of me. Speaking it out loud, in front of Master, helped calm me further. Yes, these things are things I freely choose, and yes, these things are within my power to perform. 
 
When I finished my recitation, he had me repeat it. I'm sure it was to confirm that I was truly "in the moment" with him, and not fretting or worried or distracted. Then he ordered me to assume Position 3. I hurriedly stripped off my clothing  - all positions are properly performed while naked - and stood before him, my feet shoulder-width apart, my hands clasped behind my back, my eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.  He circled me, slowly, checking my stance. Then he leaned over my shoulder to whisper in my ear - "I want you to cum for me."

I licked suddenly dry lips and closed my eyes. "Yes, Master."

He stepped away from me, and I opened my eyes to see where he'd gone. When I looked at him in silent question - "How do you want me?" - he merely smiled.  "I want to watch," he said.

Oh.

He leaned his arms on the footboard of the bed while I lay back and situated myself, making sure he'd have an unobstructed view. And then I brought my hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit. It was only moments until I had a decent amount of moisture, and I dipped my middle finger into my pussy to gather up those sweet, slick juices. I spread them over my nub and began to rub again, and oh yes, that felt so, so good. I coated my finger a second time and then set to work, pressing and rubbing in circles. It was so, so good. 

My hips bucked up involuntarily, and I let out a soft groan. I heard Master catch his breath, and then he said, in a quiet but intense tone, "Open your pussy so I can see more." I used my left hand to spread open my pussy lips, opening it wide for his viewing pleasure, and the change in angle was incredible. I felt even more pleasure tingling through my body as I rubbed myself, and my breaths became shallow pants. I inserted my finger again, pumping it several times, and I was very wet, as evidenced by a definite squelching, sucking sound.

Master closed his eyes. "So sloppy wet," he murmured. 

"Your pussy knows its master is watching," I panted, "and it likes it."

My hips bucked up again and I moaned and tossed my head. Pleasure was spiraling through me, that shivery tension building in my lower belly. I wanted to cum, wanted that release, and so I asked, "Master, may I cum?"

"I think not," he said, and frustration washed over me like cold water. I growled, and he just chuckled.

"Who are you?" he asked. It is totally unfair of him to expect me to be able to think when I'm on edge like this, but he expects it anyway.

"I am your whore," I said.

"Why?" he wanted to know.

"Because I need it, and I want to be," I forced out. My voice was breathy, and broke in the middle of my reply.

"And are you proud of it?"

"Yessss--" I gasped. "I am your whore, and I am proud to be."

"Again," he commanded, "and louder."

A spear of raw need lanced through me just then, and I moaned before I could stop myself. I panted hard, and swallowed before I could form the words. "I am your whore, Master, and I am proud to be!"

"Very good, pet," he murmured. "Cum."

My fingers were a frenzy of motion, bearing down on my swollen clit, and his voice snapped that coil. My hips reared high off the bed as my orgasm rushed through me, and my voice was a long, loud, wordless cry. Master watched with bright eyes as I writhed and panted and finally collapsed back on the bed, wrung out and sweaty and curling into a ball.

"That was a strong one," he observed, and I laughed weakly in between pants. "Yes, yes, it was," I said. He came and sat on the bed beside me, his hand smoothing over my back and brushing my bangs off my forehead as I lay there, waiting for my legs to stop trembling. Several minutes later, I felt like I might be able to move again, so I rolled over and stretched.

"How are you feeling, pet?" Master asked.

"I am well, Master, and thank you," I said, "for allowing your whore to cum for you."

"Mmm, yes, you ARE my whore, aren't you?" he mused, "and we still have to address the issue of your missed task."

Oh, shit. My heart fell. I knew he hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping.

"So here is your task for today," he began. "While I am gone, you will wear 5 anal beads for an hour and a half. After that, you will fill my pussy with 5 beads, for two hours."

I did not like the idea of the anal beads, at all. They are not my friends, I do not enjoy them, and I always experience some pain and bleeding when I use them. Damn, damn, damn! But all I said was, "Yes, Master."

"And you will begin now, because I want to be here when you insert them."

 I rolled off the bed and retrieved the beads, some lube, and a small towel. Just before I returned to the bed, I took a deep breath in acceptance, and walked back to my fate.

OK, yes, that was a bit dramatic, but it felt like that. I really hate these anal beads.

I popped the top of the lube and drizzled a good amount all over the beads. Then I knelt on the bed and propped my left foot on the mattress, bracing myself on my left hand. With the slicked beads in my right hand, I reached between my legs and began the process of inserting the beads. Master remained sitting on the bed, watching my progress, and I was careful to take my time and not rush. I get into trouble when I rush. As it was, I hissed and moaned, and whined as each bead slowly breached that tight ring of muscle and worked its way inside my ass. Finally, finally, they were all seated, and I wiped my hand on the towel and panted softly and waited for my body to adjust to the beads. I felt over-full, but not in pain, and that was OK.

Master left, then, with a good-bye kiss that nearly seared my brain. I was grateful - despite the dynamics of our relationship, I'm still a woman, and I like feeling that I'm more than a pussy and an ass and two breasts. I laid in bed until I heard the front door slam, then got up and dressed. And the real training period began. The first  hour went all right. I was very aware of the beads in my ass, of course. The full feeling never went away, and I was careful to use a pad in my panties to catch any leaks. It's gross, yes, and downright embarrassing, but it happens every time.

Once I got past the hour mark, however, things went pear-shaped rather quickly. My body now began to rebel against these foreign objects, and starting trying to expel them. I was OK, not great, for the next 15 minutes; I squeezed my ass muscles to stop the urge to defecate. After that, however, I lost the battle. Squeezing no longer worked, and the urge to go to the bathroom became stronger. I held off as long as I could, but then it became too much, and I got up from the kitchen chair to head for the bathroom. 

** Warning: This part gets squicky. Skip down to the marked area if the mention of feces disturbs you.  **

It was too late. You know how the body works, right? Those inner muscles contract, pushing waste (and anything else) down and out of the body. Oh, and air, too; that's why you often fart when you have to poop. So there I was, when a gust of air was forcefully expelled, shall we say, and I instantly knew I was in trouble. 

"No, no, no," I muttered, but I knew. And yes, it had happened - not only air had been expelled. Dammit! I stepped into the bathroom, shucked off my slacks, and peeled off my panties. Oh, gross. I sat on the toilet and Mother Nature did the rest, expelling the beads, though I did grab them with a flushable wipe before they were submerged. It is so very awkward, sitting there trying desperately to clean off as much fecal matter as possible from these beads before anything slips off, while still pooping. And it was a mix of poop and lube and blood. Yes, blood, I always bleed. I can only postulate that the beads irritate the inner lining and cause small abraded areas which then ooze blood.  And I cried. Anyway, to spare you the more horrid details, it took several rounds with toilet paper and wipes, and three separate flushes, before everything was cleaned and tidied and able to be put away.

** End of squickiness **

 After all that, I was drained, literally. And I still had a task to go. 

I took another set of beads and some regular lube, and laid down on the bed. I coated the beads with the lube, then popped the first bead and then the second into my pussy without any problem. The third one took a more firm push, as it was starting to get a little full in there. The fourth bead was harder yet; I lifted my hips and shoved, and winced and gasped as a sharp stab of pain pierced my lower abdomen. Damn, that hurt. I sank back to the mattress and took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. The four beads inside me were jammed together, I swear, and there just wasn't a hell of a lot of room left for the last bead. Still, Master specified 5 beads, so 5 beads I would do.

I pushed, and shoved, and pushed some more, and moaned and swore in my discomfort, but at last I got the fifth bead in and managed to make it stay there. I got up and redressed, again, and started the clock on my two-hour countdown. I could feel the beads clacking against each other as I walked, and when I sat back on the wooden kitchen chair, I could feel the beads pressing against each other and my inner walls. It was tight in there, and I could feel them stretching me. It wasn't exactly painful, but it wasn't all that comfortable, either. Every time I stood up or walked around or shifted on the chair, I could feel them moving.

I was quite relieved when the time had passed and I could remove the beads. I could feel them stretching me as they came out, and when they were all out, I felt stretched and empty and tired and sore. Still, I had to count this as a successful training session, and I was eager to be able to report to my Master that I had fulfilled the tasks he had set for me.






 

Because Master Said So

And that is the crux of it, isn't it? That Master said so. And even though I've come quite a ways on this journey of mine, toward becoming and being His perfect submissive, there are still things I struggle with, still things I have trouble accommodating, things I can't yet wrap my head around.

Take, for example, one of our recent sessions -

Master told me to retrieve all of my dildos/vibrators. I have three, only: Jack, my jackrabbit-style vibrator, which I've mentioned before; a glass vibrator; and a small, purse-sized purple vibrator. I keep it in my purse at Master's command; as He told me, I never know when He might decide to send me into the restroom, even at work, to play for a few minutes.

 When I brought them back to the bed, He commented about the tiny purple one being tucked away in my handbag, and I admit, I just looked at him all wide-eyed and confused.

"But you told me to," I said, as if it were the most obvious thing, ever. I mean, really - He told me to buy it, so I did. He told me to keep it in my bag, so I do. Simple.

"And so I did," He said. "Good girl."  And that was that.

When I climbed back up on the bed, He looked at me and said, simply, "Position 4." I rolled to my hands and knees, facing the foot of the bed so that He had a clear view, and lowered my front half to the mattress. Once my shoulders were flat on the bed, my face turned to the side and pressed into the mattress, I tucked my hands behind me, grasping my ass cheeks and parting them so that He could see His pussy, exposed for His view.

And then I waited. And waited. My neck grew stiff, then began to ache, from its twisted, odd position, and my right shoulder, where the majority of my upper body weight was resting, began to protest. I shifted a little, hoping to ease the ache, but it didn't help much. I made a little whine of discomfort in my throat, and Master picked up on it.

"What's wrong, Kitten?" He asked. But I did not want to appear weak, or unwilling, and really, it hadn't been more than a handful of minutes, so I merely said, "Nothing is wrong, Master; I'm sorry."

That seemed to satisfy Him, as He went back to silently contemplating me. I shifted, again, but made no sound.  I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, willing myself to relax and be patient. I am not a patient person, ordinarily, and I am convinced that Master puts me through my paces (at least in part) to try and instill a bit of that virtue in me. So I breathed, and tried to ignore my aching neck muscles, and was quiet.

"That's enough, now," He said to me. "Lie on your back."

I rolled over and shifted until I was comfortable, my head to the foot of the bed, my knees parted and drawn up, again, so He could see His pussy clearly. And this is where my mental struggles began.

He picked up the glass dildo and slowly inserted it into His pussy. I shivered, and my breath caught, because it was cold; not like an ice cube, of course, but still cold enough to make me shiver a little. He noticed, of course, so I told Him what I was feeling. He merely smiled and began thrusting the dildo, fucking His pussy slowly, until I was juicy. I could hear the wet, sucking sounds His pussy made as the dildo slid in and out, and I admit, once it warmed up and became slick, it felt really good to me. I moaned, softly, and He asked me,

"Hmm? Does that feel good, Kitten?"

I could only nod, and whisper, "Yes, Master."

He gave the dildo a few more pumps, then pulled it free of my body. I whined a little, but honestly, I kind of expected it. He then picked up Jack, and began working it inside me, giving it shallow little thrusts, coating it more and more with my juices, then sliding it inside all the way. I moaned, again, and lifted my hips up to accept it. God, it just felt so good. And then, of course, he changed the game.

"We're going to try something new," he said. I couldn't help it - that set off warning bells in my head. He picked up the glass dildo again, and told me he was going to use both of them - BOTH OF THEM. Umm, hello! There isn't that much room in there! Remember those mental struggles I mentioned? Here they are, rearing up, all ugly and panicked. My breathing picked up as my body tensed.

"No, no - relax, Kitten," he said. "We'll go slow. There's no need to rush."

I tried, really, and breathed in deep. Finally I felt my body ease back into the bed. I closed my eyes and nodded.  

Jack was already inside me, of course, and I felt the bed dip as Master shifted. Then I felt the cool of the glass dildo nudging at my pussy opening. I shifted my knees apart as I felt the tip of the dildo start to press inside me. Wow, OK, that's a stretch ... no, really, I could feel my flesh stretching, trying to accommodate the huge mass of both toys. It stretched, it burned, and then there was a flare of pain. I cried out with it, startled and hurting, and Master eased off a bit. I panted, waiting out the discomfort, willing myself to relax because I knew that being tense wouldn't work.

Master allowed me several moments to compose myself, and then he started working on pressing both toys in deeper. He used short, shallow thrusts, gently, trying not to hurt me, but my God, the stretching sensation was bordering on painful, and I whimpered. He soothed me, talked to me, told me I was doing well and to focus on his voice, and I worked on steadying my breaths and relaxing as much as I could. It helped, really, and he got them both in a bit more. But that was as far as they could go; it felt like they got stuck, then, and his gentle rocking thrusts were really hurting me. I moaned, then and not because it felt good, and tossed my head to the side, biting my lip.

And I wasn't having fun with this, at all, and in my head I was spitting nails and railing at Master for this ridiculous attempt, and why the hell was I doing this, again, because it fucking hurt. And then Master pushed once again, and it honest-to-God felt like one of the dildos snagged against my inner walls, because it dragged, and rubbed and burned and HURT, and I bucked up and cried out, loudly, and said, "No more! I can't, it hurts, I can't, no more."

Master went still, then, and all I could hear was my sniffling, as I blinked back tears. And then he spoke, softly, but with a hard edge to his tone.

"Who owns you? Who does this body belong to?"

Ah, shit. I'd really put my foot in it now. I wasn't trying to be disobedient or insolent, I was just reacting from the pain. But I was in trouble anyway. Damn, damn, damn! So I sniffled, again, and in a tiny voice I answered, "You do, Master."

"That's right, I do; and I can do whatever I want with my property, isn't that right?"

Fuck. 

I closed my eyes and swallowed. "Yes, Master."

There was silence for several long, long moments. I lay there, eyes still closed, just breathing, waiting for his judgment. Then I felt his fingers touch my breast (which had been ignored until now). He played with the nipple, teasing it until it stood, stiff and taut, and then sharply pinched it. Ouch! I bucked and squealed, and he pinched it again, sharply, and I moaned, and a tear leaked from under my closed eyelid. Fuck, that hurt. 

"You are mine," he said. "I own you, all of you, and I will do with you as I wish."

I knew he was right. I had long ago given all of myself to him, and well he knew it. I knew, also, that he would never, never actually harm me, so I just nodded, then, and whispered, "Yes."

"You've been doing so well," he said then. "Work with me, don't fight me, don't get in your own way." I nodded again. He adjusted his grip on both Jack and the glass dildo, and began working them again. To be fair, he was being gentle, and patient, but by this point, I was pretty dry, to be honest, and the push-and-tug was so, so painful. I whimpered and whined and squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to open up for him, but it was so very hard. My breathing picked up, and I tossed my head and tried to breathe through the discomfort. 

"Good girl, " he said. "Good girl." 

I nodded, again, and a tiny smile quirked my lips. "Thank you, Master," I said.

And then, he decided that was enough. He eased the toys back, then pulled the glass one free. I felt it go, felt the stretch of my opening as it passed through, and my hips rose involuntarily as I groaned. Ow, ow. Jack was next, pulled free, and again, I whined as the pull seemed to aggravate the soreness I felt. 

"What's wrong, Kitten?" he asked. Oh, he called me Kitten. He's forgiven me. I'm glad, so glad.

"It's just sore, Master," I said. "That's all." 

"Aw," he said. "That's just terrible." He was teasing, of course, and I was glad to hear it. But I played along, feeling much better now.

"Mm-hmm," I agreed.

"Let's see if we can make it less terrible," he said, and that was all the warning I got before two of his fingers plunged deep into my pussy. I arched up and moaned, because yes, I was sore, damn it! And then I had the dichotomy of wanting his fingers, wanting more of their delicious sliding, and wanting him to get those thick digits out of there, already, because the soreness was growing, too, and I couldn't decide which I wanted more. But then he bowed his head, and his mouth fastened on my clit, lashing it with his tongue and sucking it between his lips, and I arched up strongly and moaned, but not because of pain this time.

He held me there, poised on the edge, until the lines between pleasure and pain had blurred, and I wasn't aware of anything but his hot, wet mouth, and his firm relentless fingers, and the wildly burning knot of desire coiled in my belly. I was moaning almost continuously, I could hear myself but I couldn't stop. And then he pulled my swollen nub between his teeth and gently bit down, and that was the end. My pussy clenched down on his fingers like a vise, arresting their movement as my climax broke over me. I heard myself shriek as I came, flooding over his fingers and dripping down his wrist, my muscles tensing, my body shaking, and stars burst behind my closed eyelids. 

At last, though, the intense waves passed, and I collapsed on the bed, panting harshly, my heart just hammering in my chest. I relaxed enough that Master could remove his fingers, but I hissed sharply at the burn that caused, and then I became aware of the deep inner soreness in my pussy. Ugh, it felt raw, abraded, almost. I rolled to my side and curled into a ball, curling into Master's chest. He knew what I wanted, and he indulged me; his arm draped over my waist while his hand stroked my back, up, down, slowly, soothingly, the warmth of his palm feeling so good against my skin. I love when he does that.

Master lifted his hand from my back and gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. I tilted my head back and opened my eyes to meet his gaze. I smiled.

"Are you all right, Kitten?" he asked. Oh, yes, I am more than all right.

"I am well, Master; thank you," I replied.

"For ... ?" he prompted.

"For training me, and being patient, and keeping me on track, and allowing your slut to cum for you," I said.

He smiled, then; my answer probably surprised him, but I could tell he was pleased. A bubble of happiness welled up in my chest. Despite the soreness between my legs, and the issues I seem to still have with totally surrendering (though I have been working on that), I was exactly where I wanted to be.



   

 

Welcome Home

Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things i'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.


My Master is due back this evening; he's been away for quite some time, and I have missed him terribly. But he has promised to see me tonight, so I've been busy preparing for his arrival. I've put clean sheets on the bed, fluffed the pillows, bought a new, sweet-smelling candle, which flickers on the bedside table. I'm washed and shaved and dressed in a simple white camisole and white panties. There are about 10 clothespins scattered on the nightstand, along with a blindfold, my anal beads, vibrator, bit, and lube. The crook of Master's cane is tucked in the handle of the topmost dresser drawer. Now all I have to do, is wait.

And wait.

I sit on the living room couch with a book and a small glass of wine, hoping to pass the time more easily. My eyes scan the text, and I flip the pages every so often, but honestly, I'm not absorbing much. The wine is cool and sweet, and I drain the glass, but am hesitant to drink any more ... I'm quite sure Master will want me to suck his cock, and given that I always, always gag on it, I don't want anything in my stomach to make a reappearance at an inopportune time.

Finally, though, as the butterflies in my belly threaten to choke me, and my patience is wearing thin due to nervousness, there's a sharp rap at the door. I drop the book on the floor and hurry to the door, opening it to admit my Master. He steps in and I close the door behind him, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. My heart is beating frantically in my chest, and my mouth has gone dry. I lean back against the closed door, my hands tucked behind my back, and meet his eyes. I can't help it - a smile curves my lips.

"Hello, Kitten," he says.

"Good evening, Master," I reply. "I'm glad to see you."

"Are you?" he asks. He takes a step towards me and reaches out to cup my cheek in his hand. I tilt my head to lean into his palm, savoring this first, long-awaited touch. His eyes sweep over me from head to toe, taking in my chosen attire. 

"Let's see how ready you are," he murmurs, quietly, almost to himself. And then his voice firms, takes on a commanding tone. "Down."

I drop to my knees immediately, right there in the foyer, my hands loosely folded on my lap, my eyes downcast. His hand, which had been cupping my face just a moment before, rests on top of my head.

"Good girl," he says, softly. "Did you choose this outfit specifically for me?"

"Yes, Master."

He is quiet for a moment. "I approve. Good girl, pet."

He turns away from me then, and heads off down the hall. "Come, pet," he calls over his shoulder, and I crawl on hands and knees behind him, down the hall and into my bedroom. He is standing near the foot of the bed when I arrive, and I sit on my knees, resting on my heels, when I reach him. 

"I'm wearing too many clothes," he says. "Undress me."

I reach up and begin unbuttoning his shirt, starting with the lowest button. He's so tall, though, that I can't undo very many while I'm kneeling, but before I can stand, he clasps my hands in his.

"That's enough for now," he says. "But I'm still wearing my pants."

I undo the button of his slacks and slowly slide the zipper down. I'm kind of teasing him - well, both of us, if I'm honest; my lips part and my breaths come faster.  I haven't been given permission to take my time, but he hasn't corrected me, so I'm sure I'm okay doing this. I slide my hands into his open fly, palms brushing the front of his hips, then sliding to the sides, slowly pushing his slacks down with the backs of my hands, my palms gliding along his legs and calves as the pants fall slowly to the floor. I untie his shoes, and he grabs the bed's footboard for balance as I lift one foot, then the other, to remove his shoes and tug the pants off over his feet. He wiggles his toes, so I peel off his socks, as well. 

There's a distinct bulge in his boxers, and I take my time with carefully pulling the waistband out and over his cock, taking care to stroke his rapidly-swelling shaft as I push the boxers down, and again, I lift each foot to tug the boxers off. His cock is right there, all swollen and red and looking so very good, and I sit up tall on my knees and lean forward, giving it a good long lick with my tongue. He sucks in a breath, and I pull his cock into my mouth, sucking it and bobbing my head so he slides in and out of my mouth, and over my tongue.

He smells of musk and sweat, and tastes salty and hot and wonderful. Good God, but I have missed this. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose, still working to take him in as far as I can. He's nearly fully erect, now, and is too big for me to take, but I try anyway. He moans, and I bob my head faster, trying to show him with my lips and tongue how much I have missed him. He pushes to the back of my throat, causing me to gag, and a trickle of saliva leaks from the corner of my mouth and dribbles down my chin. Damn it, I hate that. I gag again, harder this time, and my stomach contracts sharply. Damn, damn!

He pulls away, and reaches a hand down to me.

"Stand up."

I grasp his hand and allow him to pull me to my feet. When I have my balance, he drops my hand, and says, "Position 3."

I hastily pull the camisole over my head, dropping it to the floor, and pull my panties off, then plant my feet at shoulder-width and clasp my hands behind my back. My eyes come to rest on one of his buttons - one I hadn't been able to reach earlier. I watch, now, in silence, as his fingers come up and resume unbuttoning his shirt. As each inch of skin is revealed, I gaze hungrily at his chest, and I hear my breath catch. I want to touch him ... but I haven't been given permission, so I stand, quietly, and wait.

He opens the last button, but leaves his shirt on, and tells me, "Recite."

I repeat my devotion for him, the one I say before I go to sleep each night, pledging myself into his care and his service. When I finish, he says merely, "Again." 

When I begin, he shrugs the shirt off and tosses it to the floor. As I speak, he circles behind me, then leans down and nibbles my shoulder. My voice falters as my knees go weak, but I finish my recitation without missing a word. 

"Again."

I begin my devotion for the third time, and his arms encircle me, his fingers plucking my nipples, pinching and squeezing and rolling them, and I suck in a huge breath of air and lean back against him, because I swear my legs might just buckle. My voice goes breathy and weak, but in between gasps and groans I manage to finish my recitation without making a mistake.

He leans down and sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and it hurts, God, it hurts, and I moan loudly in pain. Then he lifts his head and kisses his mark - it is blooming into a bruise right now, I know.  I can't help my wince, though, because it is quite sore. 

"Go get on the bed," he says, softly, and I walk on shaky legs to obey. I lie across the mattress, my knees dangling off the edge, and I watch as he drops to his knees beside the bed. His eyes lock with mine as he slowly, slowly lowers his head, and I stop breathing, my mouth open, my heart hammering in anticipation, as his mouth comes closer and closer to me. Just before he reaches me, though, he stops and tells me to raise my hands up above my head. I comply silently, and then he abruptly buries his face in my pussy. I buck up into his mouth and squeal (yes, you heard me - I squeal) as his lips close over my clit and he begins suckling it. I grab onto the comforter, twisting it between my fingers, and close my eyes as desire spears me.

Master's mouth is hot and relentless, his tongue alternating between lashing at my clit and stabbing deep into my pussy. His hands are clamped on my thighs to keep me still, as I am bucking almost wildly by this point. My back arches hard, my neck straining as my head tips back. I let loose a loud moan; there's no way I can keep it contained. This is no slow, easy buildup to orgasm; my climax is rushing toward me, a wild, burning need that threatens to consume me. And still, Master's mouth, his hot, wet, needy, devouring mouth feasts on me, pulling me ever closer to completion. 

I feel the first stirrings of my climax, and I moan, again, and even though I'm panting and trying to buck into Master's mouth, I somehow manage to gasp out a few words.

"Close .... Master .... may I? Please? May I, please?" 

Master lifts his head just long enough to say, "Yes," before pulling my clit between his lips and sucking hard. And I am lost - I cannot stop it, now, the boiling need to cum, and I'm right on that knife's edge, that moment teetering between wanting to cum and climax, and then I'm tipped over, and my orgasm rips through me, my back bowing sharply, my legs tensing, my pussy flooding its completion over Master's tongue, my voice a long, loud wail. My muscles lock up, and my body shakes almost violently.

And then it passes, and my muscles relax so quickly that I sag into the mattress. I'm panting harshly, my breaths coming in huge gasps, my heart pounding in my chest. I open my eyes to see Master leaning over me; as soon as our eyes meet, he says, "Again," and plunges his fingers into my pussy. I cry out and buck up, tossing my head side to side. I haven't quite come down, and this new stimulation pushes me right to building another climax. His fingers are wet and slick with my juices. They pump steadily, pushing in deep, and I moan and writhe and ride his fingers. 

My own hands twist the comforter again, seeking something to ground me, because I can feel another orgasm coming up and it's almost painful, really. He comes up beside me and latches onto my nipple with his mouth, pulling it between his teeth and nipping at it. I flinch from the sting of his teeth and writhe from the forceful finger-fucking he's giving me, and damn, I'm gonna cum again, I can feel it right there, right there ....

His thumb brushes my clit and the coil in my belly snaps. My orgasm rushes over me and I cry out, my back arching hard for the second time. This one is even stronger than the first, almost painful in its intensity, and I am helpless to do anything but ride it out. I lose awareness of everything but the pleasure spiraling through my body and the high, keening cry of my voice.

When I come to awareness, my throat feels parched, my body quaking, my chest heaving with my deep, gasping breaths. Master's hand is caressing my thigh with deep, long, soothing strokes. I roll to my side and curl into a ball, feeling myself still trembling. Master's hand moves to my back, then, smoothing down my spine, and only now do I realize that he is speaking to me, saying "Good girl," over and over in a low, soothing tone. 

I pull myself together long enough to whisper "Thank you, Master."

I feel the wet, sticky remnants of my climax between my thighs, and my pussy feels stretched and vaguely sore, but in a good way. One nipple is throbbing slightly, the one Master had bitten, and I wince when I bump it with my arm. His hand is warm on my back, and I lie there next to him, content and drowsy, even though I know it will be quite a while before I'll be allowed to sleep tonight. A smile curves my lips as I wonder what else Master has in mind for me. 

 



 

A Bit of Playtime

Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things I'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.



Master has been away for a while now -  nearly two weeks - and I've been missing him something fierce. We have been in contact nearly every day, of course, but I still miss him, miss his touch and his presence.  As per his usual directive, I am not allowed to pleasure myself or to cum when he is not with me. As my Master, my body, mind and soul belong to him, and so he is in charge of when I have sex, and when I can play, and when I am to refrain. And when he left, he told me to refrain.

And I have obeyed, as is my place. And while it hasn't always been easy to deny my body's desire, I have drawn some comfort from the knowledge that I am meeting Master's expectations.

But today - ah, today has been more difficult. I awoke feeling vaguely turned on, and that feeling has only intensified as the hours have passed. And now, in the early evening, I am super-aware of my body's need to be sated.  I'm aching with it, to be honest, and I can feel my juices starting to leak from my body. I shift on the couch, hoping to ease the persistent ache. It doesn't work, of course, but for just a couple moments it seemed to have lessened, just a bit.

My cell phone chirps at me; a text message is waiting. I snatch up the phone, sure it is from Master. And yes, it is. I smile as I read his message - How are you tonight Kitten? 

I type my reply - I am well, Master, ty. and you? - and press Send.

A minute or so later, I have another text. I'm fine. Productive day.

I type again. That's good. I miss you.

What do you miss, my pet?

Hmm. How to phrase it, so I don't sound pathetic, or that I'm whining. But I do want him to know that I really do miss him, all of him, so ..... I miss your touch, Master, your presence. I miss your voice in my ear, your skin on my skin.

Nearly three minutes go by before Master's next text arrives. And does my pussy miss me?   

Very much so. It's empty, and lonely, and aching, and needing you, Master.  

His next text is succinct.   Tell me.

So I do. I woke up this morning all needy, and it's only gotten worse. I ache, actually. I'm wet, and wanting, and it's become uncomfortable, really.  

In his next message, Master grants me an unexpected boon.  You have 20 minutes to play, and you may cum once, and only once. You may choose one toy, if you like. And you must tell me  about it afterward.

I type a hasty reply. Thank you, Master! I will be back in 20 minutes. 

I hurry down the hall to my bedroom, grateful for Master's gift, and turning over my options in my head.  By the time I reach the door, I've decided it will be Jack - my jackrabbit-style vibrator. I have always enjoyed it, and Master has joked several times about how he hates that latex menace, so I find it amusing to use it while Master is away. I retrieve Jack from the dresser drawer and toss it on the bed, hastily stripping off my clothes and dropping them carelessly on the floor. I am on a deadline, after all. Oh, right - I fish my cell phone from my pocket and set the alarm for 15  minutes. That will ensure I don't go over my time.

I stretch out on the bed, on my back, and pick Jack up. It is heavy and cool in my hand. I bend my knees, planting my feet on the bed, and rub the tip over my clit. I'm so wet already, and that little bit of contact sends a shockwave rippling through my body. I have to be careful, or I'll cum too soon, and waste Master's generous gift.

I slide the tip inside my pussy, feeling its progress deeper into my body, feeling the slight stretch and push as it presses inside me. God, I love this feeling. It's far, far better when it's Master's cock, of course; nothing beats that, obviously, but right now Jack is feeling pretty good, too.

When it's all the way in, I give it a few gentle thrusts, just kind of testing where I am and how it all feels. Mmm. The rabbit ears bump against my clit when I push Jack all the way in, and my hips give an involuntary jerk at the stab of pleasure that washes through me. Oh, yes, that feels good. I pump Jack some more, harder, deeper, and my hips start rocking to meet Jack's thrusts. Damn, damn, that's so, so good. My breath catches on a moan, which surprises me, frankly, as I'm not usually a really vocal person.

My audible moan kind of breaks the mood, somehow, and I realize I'm letting time get away from me. My Master is generous, yes, but he won't be pleased if I fail to follow his directive. I pull Jack free, wincing a bit as it pops out, and I shift my position so I'm sitting up on my knees. 

I slide Jack back into my pussy and suck in a breath at the feeling - so good. I shift my position slightly, balancing on my knees so that Jack is resting on the bed, but still fully inside me, and the rabbit ears are lightly pressing against my clit. I turn the controls on so that Jack is rotating inside me, and the ears are vibrating against me, and I let loose another moan. Fuck, that's gonna make me cum, for sure.

I start rocking my hips, now. In this position I can imagine that I am riding Master's cock, and I close my eyes and let myself get caught up in that thought. I love feeling him inside me, feel him move, feel his cock thrusting and pulling and fucking me. I rock faster, harder, hearing Jack's whirring sounds and my owns little moans and whimpers. The rabbit ears hum away, vibrating against me, building the wave of desire in me, and I can feel the first stirrings of orgasm approaching.

I bring my hands up and roll my nipples in my fingers, teasing them into taut peaks, and I drop my head back, and to the side, and lazily open my eyes. The sight which greets me startles me, and I freeze, panting. 

I see myself in the mirror of my dresser. Ordinarily I don't like to look at myself, but for some reason, I don't focus on my bumpy thighs or thickened middle or the faint lines of silver in my hair. This time, I see only the curve of my back, the flush of my skin, the stiff peaks of my nipples poking into the air. And I'm fascinated. 

The rabbit ears shift, jolting me back into awareness, and immediately I am assaulted by a strong wave of desire, brimming over, pulling me along toward climax. Oh, God, I'm gonna cum, any moment now.  I watch my reflection, trace the arch of my back, the rolling motion of my hips, my jutting nipples and the sheen of sweat on my shoulder, and I see the moment my lips part and I moan, loudly, because my orgasm is hovering right there, just another moment, any second now ...

My climax hits me harder than I was expecting, and I drop forward to brace myself on my hands as my body convulses. Jack is still rotating inside me, the little ears still humming on my clit, and I can do nothing but cry out and grip the bedspread and shudder and quake as my orgasm sweeps through me. I reach one shaky hand to turn off Jack's controls, but I remain on my hands and knees, panting harshly, as my body quivers and my heart pounds in my chest.
  
At last, my breathing slows and my body relaxes, and I slump to my side, with Jack still clenched inside me. I reach down and pull it free, whining at the loss. I drop it on the bed just as the alarm on my cell phone goes off. Wow, what timing. My legs are all shaky, my breathing still a bit harsh, my body humming from my climax. I snag the phone from the night stand and send a text to Master, so he sees I have not exceeded my time limit. 

I lie on the bed, all languid and relaxed, nearly drowsy, even. That terrible need, that itch, has been sated for now, and I curl up on my side as I wait for Master to text me back. I'll provide the details of my romp, and thank him again for allowing it. And even though I'm content for now, I still miss him, and I can't wait for him to return, to feel his fingers and his mouth and his cock and his warmth and his presence.


  

Kitten's New Toy, Revisited - Part 2

Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things i'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.



Master's hand continues to stroke my back, calming, soothing. I can feel my muscles losing their tension, relaxing under Master's touch, melting into the mattress. My breathing slows to a normal pace, and I pull in a deep breath, then release it. The blindfold is still in place, and I have no need to remove it. I rather like it, actually.

Master shifts his position, and I feel him tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. 

"And how are you feeling?" he asks.

I tilt my head back, even though I can't see him. "I am well, Master; thank you," I say.

"Excellent," he says. "Then get on your hands and knees."

He moves away and off the bed, and I roll to my stomach and then into position. He grabs my hips and tugs me back, arranging me where he wants me. I end up with my knees at the edge of the mattress. I expect that Master will be demanding anal sex, and I try to relax, to make it go smoothly.

And then, as always, he surprises me. I feel the tails of the flogger slowly trailing down my spine, and it feels good. I drop my head and arch my back into the caress of the flogger. The tails drag down my back and over my ass, and then there's a sharp sting and a moderate thump as Master strikes me across the shoulders. I jump and hiss, because even if it doesn't hurt like hell, there's definitely a sharpness to it. Master repeats the process from earlier - striking me, softly or more harshly, then soothing the sting with the caress of the soft tails. I count roughly a dozen lashes, and then he stops. By now I'm panting again, and I can feel my skin tingling where the tails have struck me. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, and I feel him trail a finger over my back. "There are all these nice pink lines on your skin ... but I think perhaps something is missing."

The next thing I feel is a flash of pain, as his teeth sink into the skin near my shoulder blade. I flinch and moan in discomfort, but he doesn't let go. I suck in a breath and moan again, and this time he does release me. I can feel the bite throbbing - he's bitten me quite hard - and I know I will have a lovely deep bruise there.

"Thank you, Master," I say.

"You're welcome," he replies.  "But I still think there's something missing. Hmmm....."

 In the next moment I flinch for a second time, because a splash of hot wax has seared my skin. He has decided to employ the candle after all. I'm glad, now, that I took the initiative to light it. I tense a little - I can't help it - as I wait for the second application. And it follows quickly, a dribble on my ass cheek, and then immediately after that, a large dollop poured right down the crack of my ass. I feel it rolling down my skin, and I shudder. Another splash hits me near my spine, about halfway up my back. I whimper a bit at the sting of the wax, but it's a welcome pain, and I want more. 

And Master, generous soul that he is, obliges me. For the next several minutes my back is his canvas, the hot wax his medium, and he creates a mosaic of dots and splashes and swirls on my skin. The burning grows, and in places I can no longer distinguish the individual drips and dribbles, as they've all run together.  The sting of the burns becomes stronger, and I squirm in discomfort. But for all that, I'm also turned on, and part of my squirming is due to the wave of desire and need building inside me.

And he notices, of course. "What's the matter, Kitten?" he asks. It is rhetorical; I don't think he actually expects me to reply. Instead, I shiver, and let loose a low moan of need and want. 

I hear him set the candle down on the bedside table, and then he pulls the drawer open, and shuts it again. There's a snapping sound, and then something cold and slick touches me. His finger, coated in  lube, is probing at my hole, and I shift my knees apart to try and help. The tip of his finger works into my ass; it's tight, and it stretches, and I pull in a breath, then release it slowly. His finger slips in deeper, pumping a few times, and I work on relaxing my muscles. He adds a finger, and I hiss at the increased burning, so very different than the burning of the wax from a couple minutes ago. It's uncomfortable, and I shift again. He works his fingers deeper, loosening me up, getting me ready to accept his cock, and I rock back against his fingers. 

When he feels I'm ready, he pulls his fingers free, and there's a slight pause ... then more cold, slick, hard, and his cock is pushing into my ass, past the tight ring of muscle, forcing its way deeper into my body. And his cock is thicker than his fingers, and it's a bigger stretch, and it burns and burns and hurts, actually, hovering on the far edge of discomfort, tilting toward pain. I work on keeping my breaths steady, and quiet grunts of discomfort escape my lips when he uses little thrusts to work his way in deeper still.

At last, though, he is fully seated, and he is still, waiting for me to adjust. In that time of quiet, he surprises me yet again, as the flogger comes down on my back with a moderate thump. I jump - it's completely unexpected - and that movement only emphasizes the feel of his cock buried in my ass, so I groan aloud at the feeling. And then he begins to move, pumping his cock, slower at first but quickening the pace, and one of his hands is gripping my hip to keep me in place while he fucks me. 

The flogger lashes my back again, and I jump again, and he groans at my movement, and I echo his groan. I don't feel pain at this point, exactly; it's a tightness, and a fullness, and a pulling and a stretching, but not really pain. I'm panting, and my arms are tired from holding myself up so long, and my knees are getting sore from rubbing across the sheets with every thrust and pull, but his cock is fucking me, owning me, and the flogger pops and stings again, and I feel my juices dripping from my pussy. Fuck, I'm so turned on right now, and I want to cum, and his cock is just driving and pounding and relentless, and I toss my head back and cry out, and shudder.

The flogger comes down again, and my cry is louder, and longer, and tinged with desperation, even to my own ears. His hips snap forward, burying his cock to the root, and my knees slide forward with the force of his thrust, and I moan with pain and need and want and discomfort and, strangely, satisfaction at his ownership.

"You like this, don't you, Kitten? You like being used and being owned and serving your Master, don't you?" His voice is deep, and breathy, but stern. 

By contrast, I have almost no voice at all, but I stammer out a reply, anyway. "Y-Yes, Master! Yes, I love this, love your cock, love how you own me.." My voice breaks on a particularly powerful thrust, and I suck in a ragged breath. 

"Touch yourself," he growls. "But don't cum until I say so - do you understand?"

I'm rocked forward again, and I gasp, but I manage to choke out, "Yes, Master."

I shift a bit, leaning my weight on my left arm, so my right hand is free. I stroke my middle finger over my clit and shudder as a sharp spike of desire spirals through me. I moan, loudly, and Master reminds me, again, that I'm not allowed to climax without his permission. He grips my hips with both hands, now - I have no idea where the flogger is, but he's obvously dropped it at some point - and his cock just pounds into me now. I know, without a doubt, I'm going to be sore as hell after this, but that's a small price to pay.

My fingers are slick and soaking on my clit, my juices coating my fingers and dripping down my leg. I shudder, again, as another tremor wracks my body. Fuck, I'm so, so close, and I want to cum so bad, but I bite my lip and stave it off.

And then my Master shoves me forward, hard, with a mighty thrust, and he groans deeply and goes still, then grinds out, "Cum for me. Now."

My fingers dance over my clit and I let go, my climax sweeping over me, pulling a loud cry from me as my body convulses and my muscles lock up. Behind the blindfold, my eyes are tightly closed, my heart thundering in my chest, my fingers digging into the sheets beneath me. I shudder and sway, and Master's cock empties its cum into my ass, filling that channel with hot seed, spilling out to run down my legs and mingle with my own juices. He pulls out, panting, and I whine in protest, even as I wince at the sharpness of the burn as his cock pulls free of my body. 

And then I collapse on the bed, panting harshly, my muslcles feeling like rubber, and he lies beside me, one hand stroking my hair as I shudder and tremble and curl into myself. It takes several minutes for me to calm after that intense an experience, and he is patient as he waits for me to recover.

Finally, my body relaxes, and only then does he pull the blindfold off. I blink as the sudden brightness stings my eyes, drawing tears.

"Good girl," he says. "Good girl."

"Thank you, Master." I'm completely wiped out right now, lying there in a puddle of cum and sweat, with little blobs of dried wax flaking off my skin and sticking to the sheets. And I don't care; I'm sated, and content, and my Master is here with me. "Sleep now," he whispers, and as his sub, I can only obey.
 
 

 

 

Kitten's New Toy, Revisited

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