Saturday, September 21, 2013

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.  



        



Thursday, September 5, 2013

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.