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.