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.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
An Evening's Romp
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 an ass man, hands-down, no contest. He loves it, adores it, can't get enough of it. And I, though late to the party, am warming up to the idea. He also says that I am a "good little cocksucker." Part of me feels like I should be insulted, but part of me is pleased by the compliment.
Take last night, for example. As he does quite often, Master summons me with a succinct text message: I will arrive at 8 p.m. Be ready.
And so I scurry to be ready on time - making sure I'm freshly shaved and lotioned, putting clean sheets on the bed, placing a large candle and matches on the bedside table. Then I touch up my makeup, and change into Master's preferred "uniform" - plain white cotton panties and a white tank top. By 7:30, I'm ready. And the waiting begins.
I pick up a book - I'm currently reading Oh, Myyy! There Goes the Internet, by George Takei. It's nothing too heavy, and I find it entertaining. But my eyes keep straying to the clock. 7:42. 7:51. 7:56. I put the book down, and try to calm my frantic heartbeat.
At 8:07 there's a decisive knock on the door, and I hurry to open it, to allow Master entrance. I step to the side so he can enter, then close the door behind it. I lean back against the door, both hands behind my back, palms flat against the wood, and simply look at him.
He gazes back.
My heart is racing again, and I swallow nervously.
"Hello, Kitten," he says.
"Hello, Master," I reply.
"Down."
I drop to my knees before him, my head bowed, and wait. His hand comes to rest on top of my head.
"Take me to bed," he says, and I get to my feet and grasp his hand, linking my fingers with his, then lead him down the hall to the bedroom. I stop at the foot of the bed, turning to face him and letting go of his hand. He cups my chin in his palm and leans down to kiss me. Mmm. When he draws away, he turns his mouth to my ear, and softly says, "Position 3."
I pull the tank top off over my head and shimmy out of my panties, then stand naked before him, my feet slightly parted, my hands tucked behind my back, my face forward, eyes straight ahead. Right now I have a close-up view of the front of his shirt.
He slides his fingers through my hair, then down my face, across my shoulder, down my chest and cups my breast in his hand. His thumb strokes the nipple, back and forth, teasing it to a taut peak. My lips part on a gasp as he plays, sending a shiver through me. His other hand comes up, then, and cups my other breast, so that both hands are busy squeezing and stroking and teasing. He pinches one nipple, and I flinch.
"So responsive," he murmurs. I keep quiet, save for the little moan that breaks through my lips.
He steps back, and I risk a glance at his face. He's watching me, a tiny smile quirking his lips. I watch as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, eagerly waiting for each bit of skin to be revealed (have I mentioned that I love skin?). Once all the buttons are open, he lets it slide down his arms and fall o the floor, then reaches to unzip his shorts and step out of his pants. He walks around me and I can hear him get on the bed, hear as he shifts around to a comfortable position. But I haven't been told to move, yet, so I remain in place, staring at the wall.
And then, he speaks. "Come here."
I turn, dropping my arms to my sides, and walk to the side of the bed, where I stop and wait for further instructions. He rolls completely to his back and grabs a pillow, putting it under his head, then draws up his left leg, leaving the right leg flat on the bed.
"I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock."
I climb up on the bed next to him, my arms straddling his right leg as I lean down and pull his cock into my mouth. His scent floods my nose, his taste dances on my tongue as I move my head, working his shaft with my tongue and lips, sucking him as he hardens in my mouth. When fully erect, he's too big for me to take, so I use this time before he's totally hard to swallow him to the root. I know he likes that. I shift on my knees, seeking a more comfortable position for my hands, but I don't dare pull my mouth away from him. I suckle his cock, lapping my tongue over it, and now he is too big. I cup his balls in my palm and am rewarded by his deep groan.
I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and pump him firmly as I suck him, and he shifts his hips and sucks in a breath. My jaw is beginning to ache, now, but I don't want to quit. He thrusts up into my mouth, forcing his cock to the back of my throat, and I gag, hard, my stomach contracting so that I fear I may vomit. It settles down in the next moment, though, so I ignore it and keep sucking him, my fingers squeezing and pumping, his shaft so hot and hard and silky.
He tells me to stop then, and I pull away and look at him questioningly. Then he says, "I want my cock in my ass. Now."
I scramble off the bed to retrieve the lube from the dresser drawer, then return to his side, shaking the bottle and squeezing a good-sized dollop into my palm. I rub my palms together to warm it, then apply the lube to his cock, using the act to indulge myself a little, enjoying the heavy feel of his cock in my hands. Oh, yeah, I like that. Eventually, though, I can't delay any more, and I reluctantly pull my hands away. I start to get on my hands and knees, but he stops me - he wants me to top.
I crawl over his legs and get up on my knees, facing his feet. He likes when I ride him backwards like this. I line up over him, and he grasps his cock with one hand, gripping my hip with the other to steady me in place. I know it's going to be tight, and it's going to hurt, especially as I've had no preparation at all this evening. But that's all right; Master has never really hurt me, and I trust that he will not this time.
I feel the tip of his cock probing at my opening, seeking to push past that tight ring of muscle. I take a deep breath, then let it out, trying to relax. This is always tricky, as he pushes his way inside me. And honestly, I never know what to do with my hands, and I'm never quite sure how to help him, but I lean forward, or back, or press down, or shift my legs, and - damn! That hurt, that hurt, fuck. Oowww. Deep breath, pay attention, try again.
He changes the angle, somehow, makes me turn to the side a little, and - yes, that's better. I feel his cock as it breaches me, pressing in deeper, and it burns, and stretches, and burns some more, but it's better, not so painful. I let out a breath on a moan, and some of it is discomfort, yes, but some of it feels good, too. He grabs my arms and pulls them toward him, making me arch my back, and yes, all right, his cock slips in deeper, stretching me wide, feeling it burn as his cock pushes in farther. He drops my arms, and one hand grabs my knee, tugging me so I turn to the side a bit more, and that's better yet. His cock slides all the way in, now, so I'm sitting right down on his hips. God, I feel every hot, hard, insistent inch of him, and I drop my head back and arch my back, letting out a moan as my body adjusts to him.
And then, he starts to move, thrusting his hips up, and his cock slides in and out of my ass. And now I'm beginning to see the appeal, as it's starting to feel really good. He fucks me faster, now, as much as he can while I'm sitting on top of him, and I try and match his movements as best I can. His grip on my knee tightens, almost painfully, pulling me to the side even a little bit more, and I rock atop him, feeling his cock as it pumps in and out, as he fucks his ass, uses it, owns it, makes it his. And it's good.
"Tell me," he says.
"Ah, you feel good, Master, your cock fills me up and you're so hot, and hard, and ungh, yes, that's really good..." I am panting, and a trickle of sweat slides down the side of my face.
"Touch yourself, " he pants. "I want you to cum for me - but not until I say."
"Yes, Master." It's hard to get the words out, but I'm sure he understands.
I reach down between my legs, and rub my clit. Mmm. It's a bit of a challenge to coordinate my motions with the timing of Master's thrusts, but after several moments I figure it out. I dip two fingers into my pussy to gather the juices there, and wow, it's a really tight fit, as my ass is so, so full with Master's cock. As my fingers dance over my clit, my heart rate increases, my head drops back, my voice becomes a near-constant moan. My inner walls suddenly contract, a precursor of my impending climax, but I recall Master's directive, and slow my fingers, backing away from orgasm. But it hovers there, not far off, waiting ....
Master grabs my hip and picks up his pace, fucking my ass hard and fast, and his breathing becomes irregular and harsh. Against my conscious will, my fingers circle my clit faster, more firmly, and I let out a soft cry as another tremor shudders through my body.
"You don't cum until I say, do you hear me? Don't you dare."
I nod, but realize he may not be looking, so I choke out a verbal, "Yes, Master."
But, oh, God, I'm so close, so close, and I'm having trouble holding it off.
"Who owns you? Who is your Master?"
My voice is shaky. "You are! You are my Master. Only you."
"Yesss, I am your Master." His voice is a hiss. "And who are you?"
"I'm your sub, Master. Your sub, your property, your whore, your c-cunt." I almost can't say it. I hate that word, but more than that, I am coming dangerously close to losing control. I bite my lip, then let out another cry as I shudder. Fuck, it's too close, it's too much -
"Yes, I am Master, and I own you, all of you, don't I, Kitten? I own it all."
"Yes! Yes, Master. I'm yours!"
His voice is firm, commanding. "Cum for me. Now."
I grind my fingers into my clit and then, my body snaps forward - well, as much as it can with my Master holding my knee and my hip. My climax slams over me, pulling a wail from me as my body shudders and clenches down and my muscles all contract. Beneath me, Master slams into me once more, and then his cock erupts, spilling his cum into my ass, and I feel the hot spurts as they fill my ass. And I feel it as his copious spunk leaks out around his cock, too, dripping down my legs and beneath my ass, across his stomach. When the intense wave passes, I slump forward, panting, my hands braced on his legs. I can't move, even though my legs ache and my ass is stretched and sore, and my body is trembling in the aftermath of my release.
I feel Master slowly begin to relax beneath me, and I lean all the way forward and rest my forehead on Master's knee. I'm panting, still, though my breaths are coming easier now, and my heart rate is slowly returning to normal. Master's fingers on my knee relax, then drop away, and I take that as my cue to move. I pull my self up on my knees, and Master's cock slips out and pops free, and I wince at the little flare of pain which shoots up my spine. I maneuver myself around and bend down to pull his still-erect cock into my mouth, cleaning it for him, suckling it until all traces of his cum are gone. He relaxes into the mattress with a sigh, and I climb off the bed on shaky legs and go to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Returning to Master, I gently wash him off, running the cloth over his stomach, inside his thighs, around his balls and then, finally, along his cock. I go back to the bathroom and toss the cloth into the sink, then one more return to Master's side, where I stretch out on the bed beside him.
His hand strokes my back in long, gentle motions, and it feels soooo good, all warm and relaxing and protective and safe, and before I know it, my eyes have drooped shut. Just before I fall asleep, I swear I hear him say, "Mine," and I smile.
My Master is an ass man, hands-down, no contest. He loves it, adores it, can't get enough of it. And I, though late to the party, am warming up to the idea. He also says that I am a "good little cocksucker." Part of me feels like I should be insulted, but part of me is pleased by the compliment.
Take last night, for example. As he does quite often, Master summons me with a succinct text message: I will arrive at 8 p.m. Be ready.
And so I scurry to be ready on time - making sure I'm freshly shaved and lotioned, putting clean sheets on the bed, placing a large candle and matches on the bedside table. Then I touch up my makeup, and change into Master's preferred "uniform" - plain white cotton panties and a white tank top. By 7:30, I'm ready. And the waiting begins.
I pick up a book - I'm currently reading Oh, Myyy! There Goes the Internet, by George Takei. It's nothing too heavy, and I find it entertaining. But my eyes keep straying to the clock. 7:42. 7:51. 7:56. I put the book down, and try to calm my frantic heartbeat.
At 8:07 there's a decisive knock on the door, and I hurry to open it, to allow Master entrance. I step to the side so he can enter, then close the door behind it. I lean back against the door, both hands behind my back, palms flat against the wood, and simply look at him.
He gazes back.
My heart is racing again, and I swallow nervously.
"Hello, Kitten," he says.
"Hello, Master," I reply.
"Down."
I drop to my knees before him, my head bowed, and wait. His hand comes to rest on top of my head.
"Take me to bed," he says, and I get to my feet and grasp his hand, linking my fingers with his, then lead him down the hall to the bedroom. I stop at the foot of the bed, turning to face him and letting go of his hand. He cups my chin in his palm and leans down to kiss me. Mmm. When he draws away, he turns his mouth to my ear, and softly says, "Position 3."
I pull the tank top off over my head and shimmy out of my panties, then stand naked before him, my feet slightly parted, my hands tucked behind my back, my face forward, eyes straight ahead. Right now I have a close-up view of the front of his shirt.
He slides his fingers through my hair, then down my face, across my shoulder, down my chest and cups my breast in his hand. His thumb strokes the nipple, back and forth, teasing it to a taut peak. My lips part on a gasp as he plays, sending a shiver through me. His other hand comes up, then, and cups my other breast, so that both hands are busy squeezing and stroking and teasing. He pinches one nipple, and I flinch.
"So responsive," he murmurs. I keep quiet, save for the little moan that breaks through my lips.
He steps back, and I risk a glance at his face. He's watching me, a tiny smile quirking his lips. I watch as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, eagerly waiting for each bit of skin to be revealed (have I mentioned that I love skin?). Once all the buttons are open, he lets it slide down his arms and fall o the floor, then reaches to unzip his shorts and step out of his pants. He walks around me and I can hear him get on the bed, hear as he shifts around to a comfortable position. But I haven't been told to move, yet, so I remain in place, staring at the wall.
And then, he speaks. "Come here."
I turn, dropping my arms to my sides, and walk to the side of the bed, where I stop and wait for further instructions. He rolls completely to his back and grabs a pillow, putting it under his head, then draws up his left leg, leaving the right leg flat on the bed.
"I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock."
I climb up on the bed next to him, my arms straddling his right leg as I lean down and pull his cock into my mouth. His scent floods my nose, his taste dances on my tongue as I move my head, working his shaft with my tongue and lips, sucking him as he hardens in my mouth. When fully erect, he's too big for me to take, so I use this time before he's totally hard to swallow him to the root. I know he likes that. I shift on my knees, seeking a more comfortable position for my hands, but I don't dare pull my mouth away from him. I suckle his cock, lapping my tongue over it, and now he is too big. I cup his balls in my palm and am rewarded by his deep groan.
I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and pump him firmly as I suck him, and he shifts his hips and sucks in a breath. My jaw is beginning to ache, now, but I don't want to quit. He thrusts up into my mouth, forcing his cock to the back of my throat, and I gag, hard, my stomach contracting so that I fear I may vomit. It settles down in the next moment, though, so I ignore it and keep sucking him, my fingers squeezing and pumping, his shaft so hot and hard and silky.
He tells me to stop then, and I pull away and look at him questioningly. Then he says, "I want my cock in my ass. Now."
I scramble off the bed to retrieve the lube from the dresser drawer, then return to his side, shaking the bottle and squeezing a good-sized dollop into my palm. I rub my palms together to warm it, then apply the lube to his cock, using the act to indulge myself a little, enjoying the heavy feel of his cock in my hands. Oh, yeah, I like that. Eventually, though, I can't delay any more, and I reluctantly pull my hands away. I start to get on my hands and knees, but he stops me - he wants me to top.
I crawl over his legs and get up on my knees, facing his feet. He likes when I ride him backwards like this. I line up over him, and he grasps his cock with one hand, gripping my hip with the other to steady me in place. I know it's going to be tight, and it's going to hurt, especially as I've had no preparation at all this evening. But that's all right; Master has never really hurt me, and I trust that he will not this time.
I feel the tip of his cock probing at my opening, seeking to push past that tight ring of muscle. I take a deep breath, then let it out, trying to relax. This is always tricky, as he pushes his way inside me. And honestly, I never know what to do with my hands, and I'm never quite sure how to help him, but I lean forward, or back, or press down, or shift my legs, and - damn! That hurt, that hurt, fuck. Oowww. Deep breath, pay attention, try again.
He changes the angle, somehow, makes me turn to the side a little, and - yes, that's better. I feel his cock as it breaches me, pressing in deeper, and it burns, and stretches, and burns some more, but it's better, not so painful. I let out a breath on a moan, and some of it is discomfort, yes, but some of it feels good, too. He grabs my arms and pulls them toward him, making me arch my back, and yes, all right, his cock slips in deeper, stretching me wide, feeling it burn as his cock pushes in farther. He drops my arms, and one hand grabs my knee, tugging me so I turn to the side a bit more, and that's better yet. His cock slides all the way in, now, so I'm sitting right down on his hips. God, I feel every hot, hard, insistent inch of him, and I drop my head back and arch my back, letting out a moan as my body adjusts to him.
And then, he starts to move, thrusting his hips up, and his cock slides in and out of my ass. And now I'm beginning to see the appeal, as it's starting to feel really good. He fucks me faster, now, as much as he can while I'm sitting on top of him, and I try and match his movements as best I can. His grip on my knee tightens, almost painfully, pulling me to the side even a little bit more, and I rock atop him, feeling his cock as it pumps in and out, as he fucks his ass, uses it, owns it, makes it his. And it's good.
"Tell me," he says.
"Ah, you feel good, Master, your cock fills me up and you're so hot, and hard, and ungh, yes, that's really good..." I am panting, and a trickle of sweat slides down the side of my face.
"Touch yourself, " he pants. "I want you to cum for me - but not until I say."
"Yes, Master." It's hard to get the words out, but I'm sure he understands.
I reach down between my legs, and rub my clit. Mmm. It's a bit of a challenge to coordinate my motions with the timing of Master's thrusts, but after several moments I figure it out. I dip two fingers into my pussy to gather the juices there, and wow, it's a really tight fit, as my ass is so, so full with Master's cock. As my fingers dance over my clit, my heart rate increases, my head drops back, my voice becomes a near-constant moan. My inner walls suddenly contract, a precursor of my impending climax, but I recall Master's directive, and slow my fingers, backing away from orgasm. But it hovers there, not far off, waiting ....
Master grabs my hip and picks up his pace, fucking my ass hard and fast, and his breathing becomes irregular and harsh. Against my conscious will, my fingers circle my clit faster, more firmly, and I let out a soft cry as another tremor shudders through my body.
"You don't cum until I say, do you hear me? Don't you dare."
I nod, but realize he may not be looking, so I choke out a verbal, "Yes, Master."
But, oh, God, I'm so close, so close, and I'm having trouble holding it off.
"Who owns you? Who is your Master?"
My voice is shaky. "You are! You are my Master. Only you."
"Yesss, I am your Master." His voice is a hiss. "And who are you?"
"I'm your sub, Master. Your sub, your property, your whore, your c-cunt." I almost can't say it. I hate that word, but more than that, I am coming dangerously close to losing control. I bite my lip, then let out another cry as I shudder. Fuck, it's too close, it's too much -
"Yes, I am Master, and I own you, all of you, don't I, Kitten? I own it all."
"Yes! Yes, Master. I'm yours!"
His voice is firm, commanding. "Cum for me. Now."
I grind my fingers into my clit and then, my body snaps forward - well, as much as it can with my Master holding my knee and my hip. My climax slams over me, pulling a wail from me as my body shudders and clenches down and my muscles all contract. Beneath me, Master slams into me once more, and then his cock erupts, spilling his cum into my ass, and I feel the hot spurts as they fill my ass. And I feel it as his copious spunk leaks out around his cock, too, dripping down my legs and beneath my ass, across his stomach. When the intense wave passes, I slump forward, panting, my hands braced on his legs. I can't move, even though my legs ache and my ass is stretched and sore, and my body is trembling in the aftermath of my release.
I feel Master slowly begin to relax beneath me, and I lean all the way forward and rest my forehead on Master's knee. I'm panting, still, though my breaths are coming easier now, and my heart rate is slowly returning to normal. Master's fingers on my knee relax, then drop away, and I take that as my cue to move. I pull my self up on my knees, and Master's cock slips out and pops free, and I wince at the little flare of pain which shoots up my spine. I maneuver myself around and bend down to pull his still-erect cock into my mouth, cleaning it for him, suckling it until all traces of his cum are gone. He relaxes into the mattress with a sigh, and I climb off the bed on shaky legs and go to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Returning to Master, I gently wash him off, running the cloth over his stomach, inside his thighs, around his balls and then, finally, along his cock. I go back to the bathroom and toss the cloth into the sink, then one more return to Master's side, where I stretch out on the bed beside him.
His hand strokes my back in long, gentle motions, and it feels soooo good, all warm and relaxing and protective and safe, and before I know it, my eyes have drooped shut. Just before I fall asleep, I swear I hear him say, "Mine," and I smile.
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