----- frank sexual situations ------
He comes to me in secret, sometimes, in dreams, in fantasies. He is larger than life, more demanding than I thought I could accept, more selfish in some ways than I am truly comfortable with, and then again, more giving in some ways than I think I deserve.
I prefer our encounters to be more or less spelled out for me, so I know what to expect and can prepare for it. He prefers to keep me clueless, so that I am surprised and off-balance and more genuine in my reactions. I say I am more fearful of the unknown, trying to persuade him to my point of view. He merely laughs and tells me to trust him, and not to worry.
Right.
He comes to me, then, right up behind me, where I am standing at the kitchen counter. He presses up close to my back, his hands coming up to cup my breasts, his head bending down so that his lips caress the side of my neck. And already, I shiver, and relax into him. He bites me then, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, drawing a cry of pain from me. I had not expected that, certainly not so early in our encounter. Already I have been marked, already I bear the pain of his ownership.
But I like it, too. Not the pain - he will argue differently, but I'd like to think I know my own self at least a little - but the mark of ownership, the bruise that declares me as his. And it sets the tone of this session; i am going to be marked and used and hurt, a little, and owned. And while I will not deny that I am a bit apprehensive, I am also looking froward to seeing what marks I will bear when this is over.
He releases me then, and nudges me toward the bedroom. I do so like a soft bed beneath me, so I willingly comply. When I cross the threshold, though, he tells me to assume Position One, and I shed my clothes as quickly as I can, then kneel before him, my head bowed, my knees apart, my hands resting palms up on my bent knees. I close my eyes, and wait.
In the silence that follows, I feel my heart beating strongly, my breaths filling my lungs, my tight muscles beginning to relax as the apprehensive tension begins to bleed from my body. He steps behind me and fastens a strip of cloth over my eyes ..... ah, a blindfold. My breath quickens in anticipation; I do like to be blindfolded. And he knows this, of course, he knows this, like he knows so much more about me than even I do. At times I believe, in the privacy of my own head, that I have given him far too much ammunition, as he knows what I respond to and what he can coax from me, and any protest or objection I may have is over before it truly starts.
And I wonder, sometimes, when he's shaped me into his perfect little submissive who obeys without question or hesitation - what will be left of me, then? And will I still hold his interest? Or does he prefer the process of molding and bending and shaping, and then become bored with the smooth-running result of his handiwork?
But such questions are not for now, for now is about his will and his sub, wearing his blindfold, feeling his fingers forming a knot in the cloth at the back of my head, aware of (but not consumed by) the aching in my shoulder where his teeth have left their imprint.
He tells me to stand, and assists me as I grope for the end of the bed to steady myself. I rise to my feet, shaking out the stiffness in my legs, and at his command, I move into Position Three - feet apart, face forward, hands clasped behind my back. He steps in front of me, whispers, "Good girl," which makes me smile, then cradles one breast in his palm - and delivers a terrific smack to it. I jump, of course, and hiss between my teeth, and he does it again, and I wince at the sharpness of the pain. That's going to bruise, for sure. He lets my breast slip from his fingers, and cups the other breast, and this time I tense in anticipation, because now I know what's coming.
Smack! Yes, he slaps it, hard, hard enough that I feel the residual pain from the blow tingling through my tender flesh, and with the second smack, I flinch and moan, because it hurts. A deep ache blooms in the tissues and makes my breast feel like it's throbbing, and yes, that will bruise prettily in a matter of just a few moments.
He must be satisfied with his work, because he steps back and for a few long, drawn-out moments, there is silence. I don't do well when he is silent, mostly because I always assume he's quiet because I've made a misstep, or failed to please him, and that makes me anxious. But no, thankfully, he murmurs another "Good girl," to me, and that eases my apprehension. And then I realize that he has more in store for me, as he tells me to open my legs farther apart. I feel him reach his fingers to touch me, drawing them over my pussy, testing my response to his attentions thus far. And he finds that I am wet, and willing, and ready for more.
His fingers slide inside me and pump a few times, languidly, his fingers well-coated in my juices and making a squelching, sucking sound as they move within my body. I am swaying on my feet, trying to ride his fingers, but he persists in his maddeningly slow pace. Then he pulls out entirely, and I whine in protest, but he merely chuckles and touches my lips with his wet fingers. I open my mouth and suckle them clean for him, rolling my tongue over his digits, sucking away the fluid evidence of my desire. He reaches down with both hands, then, and I moan in my throat when I feel him attach a clothes pin to my pussy lip. And where there's one, more will follow, and I whine or moan or hiss as each pin - 6 in all - pinches my tender flesh. Ow, ow, ow. My legs are trembling, I can feel them, and the pinching pressure of the clothespins is taking over my senses. And then I am rocked forward on my toes as he slaps my ass! What the HELL, I think, but thankfully, all I actually say is "Ow!"
"Ow?" he repeats, as though he can't believe I would find that painful.
"Ow, Sir," I respond, and I know I'm being a smartass, but dammit, that's not fair, smacking me like that when I'm already wearing the clothes pins. And thinking of them has the pinching pain roaring back, and my breathing speeds up and I start to lose myself again.
And he smacks my ass again, and I flinch forward, which causes some of the clothespins to clack against each other and pinch me even more. Damn! I hiss loudly with the pain of it, and twist my fingers together, as they are still held behind my back. It's self-distraction, a way for me to try and forget about the pain I'm feeling, but I'm barely conscious of the way my hands twine together.
He must decide I've had enough, because the next thing I know, one of the clothespins is being removed. And he's not exactly gentle about it, either; instead of opening the pin, he just pulls it off, and it pinches me cruelly as it forcibly parts from my skin. I jump and cry out, because that fucking HURTS, and then I have to endure it five more times as he just yanks each pin free, in succession. I am trembling and gasping, and there are tears leaking from my closed eyelids and dampening the blindfold.
And then he is rubbing my back, and whispering in my ear that I have done well, and he is pleased, and I am a good girl. And I lean into his touch, even though he is the one who caused me the pain in the first place, taking great comfort in his praise and the tender way he is touching me.
He grasps my elbow, then, and tells me to climb up on the bed and lie on my back. He has to help me move around to the side of the bed, and he nudges me to lie back with my legs slightly parted, my arms loose and down at my sides. I hear him walk away from my side, around the end of the bed, and up the other side. The bed dips down - he must be sitting next to me, near my hip - and then I jump and gasp again, as a dribble of hot wax splashes the bare skin of my stomach. Yes, it's hot, and yes, there's a slight burn, but this is a friendly pain, a welcome pain, a mere shadow of what I've already taken (and am still feeling the effects of, quite frankly - my pussy is feeling quite sore indeed).
The drips and dribbles and trickles of the wax seem random to me; I cannot tell if he is creating a pattern, or merely criss-crossing random lines and swirls, but I like this pain, I enjoy it, even, and my pussy responds by growing wet again; I can feel the moisture between my legs. I hiss and squirm, and I swear I can hear his smile when he sees the way my body relishes this. I give myself up to it, the burn and sting of the wax, and the thrills of desire and pleasure shivering through my body.
He shifts, and I'm guessing he puts the candle down, and the next thing I feel are his fingers breaching my pussy, rubbing briefly over my clit and then plunging deep inside my body. My leg fall open, my back arches, my hips try to rock, and I cry out, in surprise and pleasure, not pain, this time, and he starts to finger-fuck me, slamming his fingers inside me and pulling them almost out, again and again, building a wave of desire and need that is coming upon me too fast, too soon, too intensely. I toss my head and moan out a series of "no, no, no," but he leans over me and says, very firmly, "Yes, yes, yes," and then fastens his mouth over my nipple and sucks, hard.
I give a choked cry, because I'm cresting the wave already, and I am going to crash and burn when it breaks, and there's a sob in my voice when I moan, because there's this intense and confusing mix of pleasure and pain and I'm afraid of it, but helpless to stop it, and I'm struggling. He pulls his mouth from my nipple, and asks me - well, demands, really -
"Who are you?"
"I am your sub, Master," I choke out.
"And who owns you?"
"You do, Master! You own m-me." I can barely force the words past my lips.
"That's right," he says, and his voice is low and intense. "I own you, I own your body, and I am your Master. So you will do what I tell you, won't you, Kitten?"
It is not a question, it is a command, and I nod and whisper, "Yes, Master."
He leans back over me, and his breath is hot on my breast, and he says, "Cum for me. NOW." His teeth nip my nipple while his thumb brushes over my clit, and I crack. My body convulses and I cum, hard, my back arching, my inner muscles clamping down, and I shriek with the force of it. It is so strong it hurts, it hurts, but in the next instant it's just a glorious haze of intense pleasure sweeping through me, wringing me out and tossing me about, and I tumble into freefall.
I am trembling, shaking, really, as my muscles try to recover from their sudden intense tension, and my breath is coming in huge gasping pants, and I am not sure if I want to laugh or cry or rage, really. And he is there to catch me, to calm me, to cradle me in safety while I recover and settle down and come to terms with what's just happened. It was more intense than I had imagined, and a bit frightening, but he kept his word to protect and keep me safe, and I realize that I am well. I am fine. I am strong. I am safe, and I am content.
And I want more.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Training Day
--- frank sexual discussion ---
I have been tasked with three specific chores to complete today; two of them, I don't mind so much, but the third - ugh, the third. And it's not exactly a light day for me, either.
But I digress.
Task one is my usual morning task: I am to insert my two SmartBalls vaginally and wear them for at least 4 hours. I actually rather like this one, so right after my shower I get them into place - I squat on the bathroom floor with my knees apart, and rub the end of the first ball across my pussy to get the juices flowing and lube the balls. Sometimes I do use a bit of lube to get things moving easier, but I have this weird sense of duty, or pride, or something, that means that 99% of the time the only lube I use is my own. So rubbing the balls over my pussy is important.
Once I can feel the juices start, I press the first ball into my opening, using steady pressure to push it inside. Then I line up the second ball and shove, sinking my finger deep inside to be sure both balls are well-seated, and only a small portion of the removal cord remains outside my body. Then I wash my hands, get dressed, and leave the house to get started on my day. I can feel them in there, to be sure, and I periodically squeeze my muscles, which means I feel them more strongly. 4 or so hours later, I retreat to the bathroom, wherever I may be at the time, to remove them. Many months ago Master had given me instructions on bearing down to expel them using my vaginal muscles, and I do that much of the time, grasping the cord and pulling only slightly as I work my inner muscles to push the balls out of my body. I can definitely feel them as they crown and then slide reluctantly from my vagina, leaving me very slightly sore and well-aware that those muscles have been worked. Cleaning them is a simple matter of soap and water, followed by a more thorough washing with toy cleaner when I arrive home. There - Task one, done.
My second task of the day involves nipple training. I take a couple of clothes pins and retreat to my room. I haven't done this much, so it takes me a few minutes to figure it out, but at last I roll my nipples in my fingers to stiffen them, then attach the pins. Ugh. It pinches, and then it hurts, and then I think I can't stand it, and then it eases to merely uncomfortable. After 15 minutes, I slowly release the pins, and have to rub my nipples briskly as they suffer a pins-and-needles feeling when the blood begins to flow. Ouch. OK, that doesn't feel too sexy, but Master will be happy to learn I have followed His direction. Two down, one to go.
My third task is the one I dread; Master wants me to start using an anal plug on a more-or-less regular basis. Training, He calls it. Torture, I think to myself. I do this task reluctantly, but at last, I can't put it off any longer. In the privacy of my bathroom I strip off my jeans and panties, then take up my red plug and my favorite lube - it is thick and smooth, and makes things a bit easier. I apply it generously to the plug, then get down on the floor on one knee, my other foot planted flat on the floor. I hold the plug in my fingers and reach between my legs, and back, pressing at my hole with the tip of the plug. I can feel my body clench down against the invasion, so I try to make myself relax. I admit I have a tendency to rush this, to go too fast just to get it over with, so I really try to slow down. But I hate it, and I just want to have it done with.
I work the plug into my ass with small little strokes, pushing forward and then pulling back, working to loosen the entrance and allow my body to accept the plug easier. It takes a while, as I am tense, but at last I can feel myself relaxing. The last bit is always the worst, in my opinion, where I have to force the wider part past the ring of muscle so that the plug seats properly and stays in place. It always stretches me, and hurts, it always hurts, and I always end up just shoving the plug in and squealing or moaning or crying out with the flare of pain that always accompanies it. And then, I spend a few minutes there, crouched on the bathroom floor, panting, while my body adjusts and the pain eases and my breathing settles.
I stand up and wince - I hate the way this feels, all full and uncomfortable and wanting to go to the bathroom to get rid of this pressure. I pull my panties and jeans back on and wander out to the living room, where I settle gingerly on the couch and pick up my Mac. I have 30 minutes to go, and I need to distract myself. I am very, very aware of the foreign body in my ass, and each time I shift my position the plug shifts and pokes me and another flare of discomfort shudders through me. I bring up a crossword puzzle and start filling in the letters, trying to ignore the pressure and discomfort.
I become an obsessive clock-watcher, however, and it feels like I spend as much time checking the digital clock as I do solving the crossword clues. As the minutes crawl by, I become more antsy, until I can hardly sit still to wait out the final couple of minutes. And when the time finally marks 30 minutes, I force myself up off the couch and head straight into the bathroom to remove this evil appliance. I shed my jeans and panties again, and sit on the toilet with my knees open. I reach back and grab the base of the plug, pulling gently but steadily and feeling it moving inside me, then there's the pressure and the stretching again, the slight flare of pain as the widest part pushes past the ring of muscle and comes free. The rest of the plug slides out easily, and I'm left with a slippery plug to clean. I wipe it off with the moist wipes I keep handy for circumstances like this, then toss it in the sink. I'll get to it in a few minutes.
I clean myself next, wincing at the soreness I feel, and I close my eyes with a grimace when the bath tissue comes away stained with blood. I bleed every time, every time, and it doesn't get any easier. I whimper when I pull my jeans back on, as the soreness isn't going away. I clean the plug thoroughly and put it away, then move back to my living room couch, where I lie on my side and feel a little sorry for myself. But I can cross all three tasks off my list for today, and I'm sure I will feel better tomorrow, and that is what's important.
I have been tasked with three specific chores to complete today; two of them, I don't mind so much, but the third - ugh, the third. And it's not exactly a light day for me, either.
But I digress.
Task one is my usual morning task: I am to insert my two SmartBalls vaginally and wear them for at least 4 hours. I actually rather like this one, so right after my shower I get them into place - I squat on the bathroom floor with my knees apart, and rub the end of the first ball across my pussy to get the juices flowing and lube the balls. Sometimes I do use a bit of lube to get things moving easier, but I have this weird sense of duty, or pride, or something, that means that 99% of the time the only lube I use is my own. So rubbing the balls over my pussy is important.
Once I can feel the juices start, I press the first ball into my opening, using steady pressure to push it inside. Then I line up the second ball and shove, sinking my finger deep inside to be sure both balls are well-seated, and only a small portion of the removal cord remains outside my body. Then I wash my hands, get dressed, and leave the house to get started on my day. I can feel them in there, to be sure, and I periodically squeeze my muscles, which means I feel them more strongly. 4 or so hours later, I retreat to the bathroom, wherever I may be at the time, to remove them. Many months ago Master had given me instructions on bearing down to expel them using my vaginal muscles, and I do that much of the time, grasping the cord and pulling only slightly as I work my inner muscles to push the balls out of my body. I can definitely feel them as they crown and then slide reluctantly from my vagina, leaving me very slightly sore and well-aware that those muscles have been worked. Cleaning them is a simple matter of soap and water, followed by a more thorough washing with toy cleaner when I arrive home. There - Task one, done.
My second task of the day involves nipple training. I take a couple of clothes pins and retreat to my room. I haven't done this much, so it takes me a few minutes to figure it out, but at last I roll my nipples in my fingers to stiffen them, then attach the pins. Ugh. It pinches, and then it hurts, and then I think I can't stand it, and then it eases to merely uncomfortable. After 15 minutes, I slowly release the pins, and have to rub my nipples briskly as they suffer a pins-and-needles feeling when the blood begins to flow. Ouch. OK, that doesn't feel too sexy, but Master will be happy to learn I have followed His direction. Two down, one to go.
My third task is the one I dread; Master wants me to start using an anal plug on a more-or-less regular basis. Training, He calls it. Torture, I think to myself. I do this task reluctantly, but at last, I can't put it off any longer. In the privacy of my bathroom I strip off my jeans and panties, then take up my red plug and my favorite lube - it is thick and smooth, and makes things a bit easier. I apply it generously to the plug, then get down on the floor on one knee, my other foot planted flat on the floor. I hold the plug in my fingers and reach between my legs, and back, pressing at my hole with the tip of the plug. I can feel my body clench down against the invasion, so I try to make myself relax. I admit I have a tendency to rush this, to go too fast just to get it over with, so I really try to slow down. But I hate it, and I just want to have it done with.
I work the plug into my ass with small little strokes, pushing forward and then pulling back, working to loosen the entrance and allow my body to accept the plug easier. It takes a while, as I am tense, but at last I can feel myself relaxing. The last bit is always the worst, in my opinion, where I have to force the wider part past the ring of muscle so that the plug seats properly and stays in place. It always stretches me, and hurts, it always hurts, and I always end up just shoving the plug in and squealing or moaning or crying out with the flare of pain that always accompanies it. And then, I spend a few minutes there, crouched on the bathroom floor, panting, while my body adjusts and the pain eases and my breathing settles.
I stand up and wince - I hate the way this feels, all full and uncomfortable and wanting to go to the bathroom to get rid of this pressure. I pull my panties and jeans back on and wander out to the living room, where I settle gingerly on the couch and pick up my Mac. I have 30 minutes to go, and I need to distract myself. I am very, very aware of the foreign body in my ass, and each time I shift my position the plug shifts and pokes me and another flare of discomfort shudders through me. I bring up a crossword puzzle and start filling in the letters, trying to ignore the pressure and discomfort.
I become an obsessive clock-watcher, however, and it feels like I spend as much time checking the digital clock as I do solving the crossword clues. As the minutes crawl by, I become more antsy, until I can hardly sit still to wait out the final couple of minutes. And when the time finally marks 30 minutes, I force myself up off the couch and head straight into the bathroom to remove this evil appliance. I shed my jeans and panties again, and sit on the toilet with my knees open. I reach back and grab the base of the plug, pulling gently but steadily and feeling it moving inside me, then there's the pressure and the stretching again, the slight flare of pain as the widest part pushes past the ring of muscle and comes free. The rest of the plug slides out easily, and I'm left with a slippery plug to clean. I wipe it off with the moist wipes I keep handy for circumstances like this, then toss it in the sink. I'll get to it in a few minutes.
I clean myself next, wincing at the soreness I feel, and I close my eyes with a grimace when the bath tissue comes away stained with blood. I bleed every time, every time, and it doesn't get any easier. I whimper when I pull my jeans back on, as the soreness isn't going away. I clean the plug thoroughly and put it away, then move back to my living room couch, where I lie on my side and feel a little sorry for myself. But I can cross all three tasks off my list for today, and I'm sure I will feel better tomorrow, and that is what's important.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
A Night at Home
---- explicit sexual situations ----
I arrive home after work and kick off my shoes. I'm tired, and it's been a long week, and all I want to do is relax this evening.
I pad down the hall to my room, crossing to the attached bathroom, and sweep the shower curtain aside. I start the water in the tub, planning to have a nice hot soak. I leave the water running and head back to the kitchen, where I rummage in the cupboard for a stemmed glass and pour myself some wine. I take a sip as I head back down the hall.
I check the water level in the tub - not enough yet - and set my wine down on the edge of the tub. I shuck my clothes, unbuttoning my blouse and dropping it to the floor, peeling off my slacks, and giving them a little kick to shake them off my foot. I turn off the water, then shimmy out of my bra and panties, and finally pulling off my knee-high stockings. My clothes are scattered on the floor in a loose and untidy pile, but I don't care.
I stick my toe into the water, testing the temperature, and I find that its just about right - hot enough that it's almost too hot, but bearable, barely. I have to get in quickly when it's like this, and get seated so that I can lift my feet out of the water and brace them on the cool porcelain tiles at the end of the tub. The skin on my legs has reddened already, and I feel sweat breaking out on my forehead. Ah, yes, that means the water temp is perfect. It takes a few minutes, but at last I am lying back against the wall of the tub, my shoulders submerged, my arms feeling nearly weightless as they float in the water. I close my eyes and relax, allowing the heat of the water to soothe my muscles and melt away my tensions. Mmmm.
I have no idea how long I lie in the tub, only that at last, the water starts to feel cool. I sit up, then, and pick up my wine glass, sipping the rich liquid, letting it trickle down my throat. No sense in wasting perfectly good wine. I drink about half of the glass before setting it back on the edge of the tub. Then I lean forward and twist open the hot water knob, rewarming the water so I can stay in longer. I love long soaks, have I mentioned that? With the water warmed again, I lie back and close my eyes. Just for a few more minutes, I tell myself.
It's longer than a few minutes, of course. When the water begins to cool again, I sit up, drain my wine glass, and wash up, then climb out of the tub and towel off. My skin is reddened and feels tight and dry, so I hastily towel-dry my hair and head into the bedroom. I climb upon the bed and retrieve my lotion from the night table. It's lightly scented with mango and tangerine, and it's a nice thick lotion, so it feels really good. I slather it on, starting with my feet, then my calves, then my thighs and hips and some across my stomach, and finally my arms. Then I think - Hey, my breasts are skin, too, and so I rub some lotion on them as well.
Well, indeed. That feels quite nice, actually, so I rub them some more. Now I can feel something quite different - a slow building of what could be desire, desire for release, perhaps. I scoot down the bed so I can comfortably lie down, then I use both hands to play with my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, rolling the nipples between my fingers. Oh, yes, that's very nice, indeed. I let out a sigh of pleasure as my fingers keep working, rolling, teasing and pinching. Of their own volition, my legs fall open and I squirm a bit.
My left hand keeps playing with one nipple, but I let my right hand trail down my body, my nails lightly scraping over my skin, and I shiver. Oh, I do like that. My fingers run softly between my legs, brushing my pussy, then ever-so-lightly ghosting over my clit, but it may as well have been a much harder touch, as my back arches and my voice moans at the gentle caress. I am so, so wet already - it has been a while, I admit, and my body is primed and ready to cum. I slide my middle finger inside my pussy, feeling how wet I am, gathering that slick moisture on my digit, then remove the finger and use it to lube my clit. Damn, but that feels good. I slide two fingers inside now, and pump them, my hips rocking up to meet my shallow thrusts. My breaths are shallow pants, and my heart beat has increased.
I bend my knees and pull them up, planting both feet flat on the bed, opening my legs even wider. My left hand leaves my sore but happy nipple, now, and I plunge two of my fingers inside my body as deep as I can. I toss my head back and groan, because it just feels that damn good, and the fingers of my right hand slide and rub and caress the nub of my clit. Oh, god, that's really, really good .... but it isn't quite enough. I roll to my side and clamber off the bed, nearly stumbling in my hurry to retrieve Jack.
Have you met Jack yet? He's my vibrator, a jackrabbit style, and he's very good at what he does. In fact, my Master used to say He hated Jack. LOL.
But I happen to adore Jack, and he is exactly what I need at the moment, so out of the drawer he comes, and into bed with me he goes.
I resume my position - on my back, knees bent, legs open - and hold Jack in my right hand. I rub my clit with his tip, lubing him a bit and teasing myself at the same time. Then I slide him down, and down, and start to ease him inside me. He's cold, at first, and I use little pulses, short little shallow thrusts to push him past the entrance and start working him in deeper. My left hand comes up to start working my other nipple, rolling and pinching and pulling and rubbing. I swear, the pleasure waves travel down my body, making my pussy tingle. Oh, this is going to be a good one.
I ease Jack in as deep as he can go, his little rabbit ears resting on my clit, and I use my thumb to switch on the vibrator ears. Oh, fuck, that's perfect, and I pump him in and out, shallowly at first, then harder, and deeper, and I can hear my juices making a squelching sound as I pull Jack free and then slam him home. I am so, so fucking wet right now, and my orgasm is hovering just there, just so close, but I'm staving it off to prolong it and savor the moment. My head is tilted back, my eyes closed, my right hand pumping Jack, fucking myself with him, the vibrator ears dancing over my clit, and then I reach the point where I cannot hold off any longer.
My climax rips through me, and I shove Jack in deep and hold him there while my pussy clamps down on him, the ears still vibrating against me. It's a strong one, and I can't stop the cry that breaks past my lips, the utterance of ultimate pleasure and completion ringing in my own ears. My entire body shakes and trembles with the force of my release, and I couldn't remove Jack right now if I wanted to, as my inner muscles are holding him so tight.
Finally, though, the vibrating ears turn from pleasure to annoyance, and my body relaxes enough that I pull Jack free, flipping the switch to turn off the ears. I'm panting, still, my heart pounding, and Jack feels warm and wet against my leg. I lie there, savoring the languid feeling in my muscles, enjoying the blissful contentment for a few minutes more. At last, though, the cum drying on my leg starts to feel cold and sticky, and reluctantly, I get up and head back into the bathroom. I use a washcloth to clean up a bit, and I make sure to clean Jack thoroughly, so that he's all ready to go for the next time. I scoop up my abandoned clothing and dump them in the hamper, then carry my empty glass back to the bedroom. Jack goes back in his drawer, and I pull on my standard relaxing-at-home outfit -- plain cotton panties and a soft wife-beater. I take the glass to the kitchen, setting it beside the sink, then grab a book and settle on the living room couch, fully intent on enjoying the remainder of my quiet evening.
I arrive home after work and kick off my shoes. I'm tired, and it's been a long week, and all I want to do is relax this evening.
I pad down the hall to my room, crossing to the attached bathroom, and sweep the shower curtain aside. I start the water in the tub, planning to have a nice hot soak. I leave the water running and head back to the kitchen, where I rummage in the cupboard for a stemmed glass and pour myself some wine. I take a sip as I head back down the hall.
I check the water level in the tub - not enough yet - and set my wine down on the edge of the tub. I shuck my clothes, unbuttoning my blouse and dropping it to the floor, peeling off my slacks, and giving them a little kick to shake them off my foot. I turn off the water, then shimmy out of my bra and panties, and finally pulling off my knee-high stockings. My clothes are scattered on the floor in a loose and untidy pile, but I don't care.
I stick my toe into the water, testing the temperature, and I find that its just about right - hot enough that it's almost too hot, but bearable, barely. I have to get in quickly when it's like this, and get seated so that I can lift my feet out of the water and brace them on the cool porcelain tiles at the end of the tub. The skin on my legs has reddened already, and I feel sweat breaking out on my forehead. Ah, yes, that means the water temp is perfect. It takes a few minutes, but at last I am lying back against the wall of the tub, my shoulders submerged, my arms feeling nearly weightless as they float in the water. I close my eyes and relax, allowing the heat of the water to soothe my muscles and melt away my tensions. Mmmm.
I have no idea how long I lie in the tub, only that at last, the water starts to feel cool. I sit up, then, and pick up my wine glass, sipping the rich liquid, letting it trickle down my throat. No sense in wasting perfectly good wine. I drink about half of the glass before setting it back on the edge of the tub. Then I lean forward and twist open the hot water knob, rewarming the water so I can stay in longer. I love long soaks, have I mentioned that? With the water warmed again, I lie back and close my eyes. Just for a few more minutes, I tell myself.
It's longer than a few minutes, of course. When the water begins to cool again, I sit up, drain my wine glass, and wash up, then climb out of the tub and towel off. My skin is reddened and feels tight and dry, so I hastily towel-dry my hair and head into the bedroom. I climb upon the bed and retrieve my lotion from the night table. It's lightly scented with mango and tangerine, and it's a nice thick lotion, so it feels really good. I slather it on, starting with my feet, then my calves, then my thighs and hips and some across my stomach, and finally my arms. Then I think - Hey, my breasts are skin, too, and so I rub some lotion on them as well.
Well, indeed. That feels quite nice, actually, so I rub them some more. Now I can feel something quite different - a slow building of what could be desire, desire for release, perhaps. I scoot down the bed so I can comfortably lie down, then I use both hands to play with my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, rolling the nipples between my fingers. Oh, yes, that's very nice, indeed. I let out a sigh of pleasure as my fingers keep working, rolling, teasing and pinching. Of their own volition, my legs fall open and I squirm a bit.
My left hand keeps playing with one nipple, but I let my right hand trail down my body, my nails lightly scraping over my skin, and I shiver. Oh, I do like that. My fingers run softly between my legs, brushing my pussy, then ever-so-lightly ghosting over my clit, but it may as well have been a much harder touch, as my back arches and my voice moans at the gentle caress. I am so, so wet already - it has been a while, I admit, and my body is primed and ready to cum. I slide my middle finger inside my pussy, feeling how wet I am, gathering that slick moisture on my digit, then remove the finger and use it to lube my clit. Damn, but that feels good. I slide two fingers inside now, and pump them, my hips rocking up to meet my shallow thrusts. My breaths are shallow pants, and my heart beat has increased.
I bend my knees and pull them up, planting both feet flat on the bed, opening my legs even wider. My left hand leaves my sore but happy nipple, now, and I plunge two of my fingers inside my body as deep as I can. I toss my head back and groan, because it just feels that damn good, and the fingers of my right hand slide and rub and caress the nub of my clit. Oh, god, that's really, really good .... but it isn't quite enough. I roll to my side and clamber off the bed, nearly stumbling in my hurry to retrieve Jack.
Have you met Jack yet? He's my vibrator, a jackrabbit style, and he's very good at what he does. In fact, my Master used to say He hated Jack. LOL.
But I happen to adore Jack, and he is exactly what I need at the moment, so out of the drawer he comes, and into bed with me he goes.
I resume my position - on my back, knees bent, legs open - and hold Jack in my right hand. I rub my clit with his tip, lubing him a bit and teasing myself at the same time. Then I slide him down, and down, and start to ease him inside me. He's cold, at first, and I use little pulses, short little shallow thrusts to push him past the entrance and start working him in deeper. My left hand comes up to start working my other nipple, rolling and pinching and pulling and rubbing. I swear, the pleasure waves travel down my body, making my pussy tingle. Oh, this is going to be a good one.
I ease Jack in as deep as he can go, his little rabbit ears resting on my clit, and I use my thumb to switch on the vibrator ears. Oh, fuck, that's perfect, and I pump him in and out, shallowly at first, then harder, and deeper, and I can hear my juices making a squelching sound as I pull Jack free and then slam him home. I am so, so fucking wet right now, and my orgasm is hovering just there, just so close, but I'm staving it off to prolong it and savor the moment. My head is tilted back, my eyes closed, my right hand pumping Jack, fucking myself with him, the vibrator ears dancing over my clit, and then I reach the point where I cannot hold off any longer.
My climax rips through me, and I shove Jack in deep and hold him there while my pussy clamps down on him, the ears still vibrating against me. It's a strong one, and I can't stop the cry that breaks past my lips, the utterance of ultimate pleasure and completion ringing in my own ears. My entire body shakes and trembles with the force of my release, and I couldn't remove Jack right now if I wanted to, as my inner muscles are holding him so tight.
Finally, though, the vibrating ears turn from pleasure to annoyance, and my body relaxes enough that I pull Jack free, flipping the switch to turn off the ears. I'm panting, still, my heart pounding, and Jack feels warm and wet against my leg. I lie there, savoring the languid feeling in my muscles, enjoying the blissful contentment for a few minutes more. At last, though, the cum drying on my leg starts to feel cold and sticky, and reluctantly, I get up and head back into the bathroom. I use a washcloth to clean up a bit, and I make sure to clean Jack thoroughly, so that he's all ready to go for the next time. I scoop up my abandoned clothing and dump them in the hamper, then carry my empty glass back to the bedroom. Jack goes back in his drawer, and I pull on my standard relaxing-at-home outfit -- plain cotton panties and a soft wife-beater. I take the glass to the kitchen, setting it beside the sink, then grab a book and settle on the living room couch, fully intent on enjoying the remainder of my quiet evening.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Lonely
--- frank sexual discussion ---
I am restless. Sir is away, and I am at loose ends ..... I hardly know what to do with myself. I wasn't always like this, you realize; but it's been several days, and we haven't had any communication, and I don't like it. At all.
I miss Him.
My personality needs more consistent contact, for me to be at peace. I need - and perhaps it's a flaw in my character - for my Sir to be involved and available, and to toss me a compliment or an affirmation. I need to know if I'm on track, if I'm meeting His expectations, because on my own, I start to doubt myself. And that always get me into trouble.
An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure, especially for me, because I'd much rather have an immediate correction for a tiny misstep than face a major correction for straying off track.
But right now, all I know is that I'm lonely, and missing Him, and there is no way I'll be able to soothe the itch in my psyche and the ache in my body, because I am not allowed to play or to cum without His permission, which I do not have.
I tried, though. I was aching, and needy, and wet, and I thought, Hey, He won't know ..... so I laid on my bed, and my fingers swirled over my clit, rubbing that nub and stoking the fire of my need. God, I ached. My other hand played with my nipple, stroking and teasing and pinching and pulling on it. And it felt good, it really did. My breath became short pants, and my fingers grew slick and slippery with my juices, and I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and arched my back, and waited for my climax to take me ......... but I couldn't do it. His face appeared behind my closed eyes, and I knew I was not supposed to; and my fingers slowed, then stopped, and my breathing returned to normal as I lay there.
So. Here I am, several days later, still aching yet unfulfilled, but hoping that my obedience (I may have taken a few steps off the path, but I did correct myself before I crossed the line) will give me some satisfaction.
But oh, i miss Him. I want His fingers, His mouth, His cock, all of Him, to fill me and fuck me and use me and leave me some lovely bruises as marks of achievement and remembrance. I want to feel His fingers inside me, want to suck His cock, and I really, really want to dance on His tongue. I want to hear His voice, feel His restraints on my wrists, feel Him dripping hot wax on my skin. I want the physical experience, yes, the pushing of boundaries and flirting with pain (only flirting, mind; I don't really want to become intimately acquainted) and especially the sweetness of cumming, but I also crave the emotional connection and the renewed sense of self-satisfaction. I've been missing that as much, if not more, than the physical things.
And that's the crux of my restless feeling - I miss the connection, and I feel adrift, and it messes with my head and makes me feel unsettled and just generally out-of-sorts. But thank God, He's going to be back soon, and all I have to do is hang on for just a little longer.
I am restless. Sir is away, and I am at loose ends ..... I hardly know what to do with myself. I wasn't always like this, you realize; but it's been several days, and we haven't had any communication, and I don't like it. At all.
I miss Him.
My personality needs more consistent contact, for me to be at peace. I need - and perhaps it's a flaw in my character - for my Sir to be involved and available, and to toss me a compliment or an affirmation. I need to know if I'm on track, if I'm meeting His expectations, because on my own, I start to doubt myself. And that always get me into trouble.
An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure, especially for me, because I'd much rather have an immediate correction for a tiny misstep than face a major correction for straying off track.
But right now, all I know is that I'm lonely, and missing Him, and there is no way I'll be able to soothe the itch in my psyche and the ache in my body, because I am not allowed to play or to cum without His permission, which I do not have.
I tried, though. I was aching, and needy, and wet, and I thought, Hey, He won't know ..... so I laid on my bed, and my fingers swirled over my clit, rubbing that nub and stoking the fire of my need. God, I ached. My other hand played with my nipple, stroking and teasing and pinching and pulling on it. And it felt good, it really did. My breath became short pants, and my fingers grew slick and slippery with my juices, and I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and arched my back, and waited for my climax to take me ......... but I couldn't do it. His face appeared behind my closed eyes, and I knew I was not supposed to; and my fingers slowed, then stopped, and my breathing returned to normal as I lay there.
So. Here I am, several days later, still aching yet unfulfilled, but hoping that my obedience (I may have taken a few steps off the path, but I did correct myself before I crossed the line) will give me some satisfaction.
But oh, i miss Him. I want His fingers, His mouth, His cock, all of Him, to fill me and fuck me and use me and leave me some lovely bruises as marks of achievement and remembrance. I want to feel His fingers inside me, want to suck His cock, and I really, really want to dance on His tongue. I want to hear His voice, feel His restraints on my wrists, feel Him dripping hot wax on my skin. I want the physical experience, yes, the pushing of boundaries and flirting with pain (only flirting, mind; I don't really want to become intimately acquainted) and especially the sweetness of cumming, but I also crave the emotional connection and the renewed sense of self-satisfaction. I've been missing that as much, if not more, than the physical things.
And that's the crux of my restless feeling - I miss the connection, and I feel adrift, and it messes with my head and makes me feel unsettled and just generally out-of-sorts. But thank God, He's going to be back soon, and all I have to do is hang on for just a little longer.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Happy Birthday to me
--- explicit sexual situations ---
Ah, yes, my birthday. I'm probably too old for cake and balloons and prettily-wrapped presents, though I will admit, I still really like those things. But I took the day off to pamper myself, and that's exactly what I plan to do.
I enjoy a quiet, lazy morning, waking up when I'm rested, and not to the alarm. I relax on the couch for a nice long while, sipping my way through two cups of coffee with flavored creamer - white chocolate raspberry, mmm - and playing crossword games online. I give myself a pedicure, and paint my toenails a playful orange hue. I grab a late breakfast - a chocolate-chip waffle smeared with peanut butter and some vanilla yogurt. With my tummy full, I settle back on the couch and check my email. I smile when I see several birthday wishes waiting for me, and take the time to read each one.
By this point my nail polish is fully dry, so I wander to the bathroom and fill the tub, the water as hot as I can stand it. I ease into the water, hissing at the heat of it, which almost hurts, but I love it. Once I'm seated, I have to prop my feet up on the side, above the water, as it's too hot with my feet submerged. My skin has reddened already, and as I get used to the heat, I inch down until I am reclining in the tub. Aaahhhhh. Bliss.
I soak for a long while, until the water has nearly cooled. Then I scrub up and shave. There. All smooth, all squeaky-clean, all fragrant and relaxed. And wrinkly. Hmmm. After drying off, I slather my skin with lotion, and wait for it to absorb before pulling on simple white cotton panties and a white tank top. It's simple, comfy, and exactly what I want on my day off.
I nestle back on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee, flipping through the TV channels until I get to SyFy, where a tacky grade-B creature flick is playing. I love these - mutant animals terrorizing the local population until the resident geek/nerd/outcast comes up with a crazy plan to save the day, and in the process, gets the girl.
The body count is at an even dozen, and the hero is being pursued by a giant spider with acid-soaked silk, when the doorbell rings. So I leave the movie running and answer the door. I know some would be reluctant to open the door in just their underwear, but hey, it's my birthday, and I'm in my own home, and I didn't invite anyone over, so I feel justified. I pull the door open, then step back in surprise; there on my front stoop is my Master. And no, I was not expecting to see Him.
I walk backwards, pulling the door open wide and inviting Master inside. I know I have a stupid grin on my face, but damn, I am happy to see Him.
"Hello, Kitten," He says.
"Welcome, Master," I reply.
And then He takes charge. "Position 2," He commands, and I peel off my clothes and drop to my knees, sitting up tall and lacing my hands behind my head. He closes the door, then circles me, stopping in front of me and cupping my chin in His hand, tipping my head back until I meet His eyes.
"Happy birthday," He says.
"Thank you, Master," I say. And then, "I'm really glad to see you."
He says nothing, merely smiles, but there's a gleam in His eye that makes me simultaneously nervous and excited. A shiver moves through me and my heart rate picks up speed.
My knees are beginning to ache a bit, and He tells me to assume Position 4. I unlace my hands and shift my weight forward, resting my face and shoulders on the floor and reaching back to grasp my ass cheeks with my hands. It feels good to stretch, I admit, and I close my eyes and just breathe. Then Master reaches down and taps my back sharply, and I open my eyes.
"You need to be in this position when I return, Kitten," He tells me.
"Yes, Master," I say. And then, He is gone down the hall. I close my eyes and breathe, and try to relax. Faintly, I can hear some muted sounds from down the hall, but I can't really tell what's going on. And it's all right. Master will let me know in His good time.
Perhaps 10 minutes later - I'm not really sure, as I am a terrible judge of time, but my legs are feeling kind of numb - I hear Master's footsteps coming back toward me. A thrill of anticipation ripples through me, and I tense a little bit when He stops by my side. He reaches down and strokes my back, once, twice, a third time, and I feel myself relax. He tells me to stand, so I do, wobbling a bit on sore knees and wincing as the blood flows through my calves, giving them that pins-and-needles feeling. When I am steady, Master speaks again, directing me to move to my bedroom and then wait for Him.
As I step through the bedroom door, I can see Master's cane propped against the foot board, a candle burning on the night stand, my anal plug, lube, and Smartballs laid out on a small towel. He has not told me what to do, exactly, so I assume Position 1 - kneeling, with my head bowed and my hands resting palms-up on my knees. After just a few minutes, Master enters the room. I hear thump, and a clink, and then He says, "Good girl." And I smile.
He tells me to stand up and assume Position 3 - feet apart, hands clasped behind my back - and then He places a blindfold over my eyes. My heart speeds up in anticipation. And when Master cups my breasts in His hands, I suck in a breath. He plays with the nipples, pinching and tweaking and rubbing them, and they perk up and stiffen and grow taut. He pulls on them a bit, too, stretching them, and I wince a little when His play becomes uncomfortable. He cups the right breast and slaps it, hard, three times, and then treats the other breast in the same manner. I know I will have finger-shaped bruises after that.
My breathing is slightly erratic, coming in shallow pants, and He leans down and bites my shoulder. I wince and moan, because it hurts, but again, I know I will bear a bruise, and I don't mind.
Master tells me to get up on the bed on my hands and knees, and He helps guide me, as I am still wearing the blindfold. Once I am in position, I hear Him moving around the room, and then the bed dips as He joins me. I hear a snap, like a cap being opened, and right after, I feel a cold, wet sensation at my anus. I drop my head to my arms and shift my knees apart, allowing Master easier access. I feel His finger breach me, and it's uncomfortable, but not painful. After a few moments, the finger is gone, and replaced by something larger, slick and cold. He's working the plug into my ass. I try to help by pushing back and trying to relax, so that insertion is easier, but God, I hate this thing. I always have, because it hurts every time, and I almost always bleed. It takes several minutes - and I am grateful that He takes His time, easing me open little by little - but at last, the plug is seated, and I am left with the stretched full heavy feeling of the plug.
Master begins to play with the plug, holding it by the base and making little thrusting motions, so that it begins to slide in and out of my ass. It is not pleasant at first, as I'm still pretty tight around it, but gradually it goes from painful and harsh to more open and slick, and eventually I almost begin to enjoy it. Almost. When I am about as open and relaxed as possible, Master slowly eases the plug all the way out, and then His cock is right there, pushing inside, and again, I push back and try to take Him as deep as I can.
This is still a little uncomfortable, but way better than the plug, and when Master begins to fuck me, I push back against Him, taking Him balls-deep. We rock for several minutes, His thrusts coming harder and harder, and the bed is shaking and He is moaning a little, and I am panting and moaning, myself. His fingers grip my hips as He slams into me, and again, I will sport bruises from His powerful hold. Eventually, though, He thrusts in one final time and cums inside me, pushing in as deep as He possibly can and then giving a series of short shallow thrusts as He rides His climax out. He lets Himself drape over my back, not putting all His weight on me, but leaning enough, and I revel in the skin-to-skin contact while He pants and recovers. And when He pulls out, I whine in protest and try to follow, but He just laughs at me.
I sit back on my heels and reach to remove the blindfold, so I can see Him, as it is my happy task to clean His cock after sex, but He stops me and tells me to get back on my hands and knees. I am puzzled, but I obey, and mere moments later I let out a hiss as hot wax drizzles across my lower back and down over my ass. Aahhh, it burns, but it's so good, and I vocalize short gasping whines with each splash and drip. When the wax is gone, the bed shifts again as He places the candle back on the night stand, and I hear a clink. The next thing I know, I am shrieking in surprise and trying to shrink away from the abrupt searing cold of an ice cube. Contrasted with the heat of the melted wax, the cold burns, and it's more painful to me than the wax was, truly. He rubs the ice all over my lower back, though, along my spine, then as that cube melts to nothingness, He applies a fresh cube to my ass cheeks and down the crack of my ass. I'm panting in earnest, now, as the cold makes me flinch.
Suddenly He pushes me, and I tilt over. His hands grab my hips and pull me to my back, the dried wax flaking off onto the sheets as He slides me to the edge of the bed. And before I can catch my breath or orient myself to this new position, He has buried His face between my legs and is feasting on me. Oh, fuck, yes! I love this, and now I am shrieking for a whole different reason. His tongue is relentless, His hands holding my hips firmly, and already I can feel my orgasm rushing to meet me. It's hard and fast and glorious, and in what seems like no time at all, I am screaming out, bucking into His mouth, flooding His tongue with my juices as He licks and slurps and laps at me, and even though it's almost too much, almost too soon, and almost too harsh, He pulls a second climax from me. Thisone almost hurts, truly, but it's so good!
I collapse to the bed, shaking and panting, gasping for breath, feeling all flushed and spent and too warm, but completely sated and oh, so satisfied. He peels the blindfold off, and I blink rapidly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light again.
"Happy birthday, Kitten," He says.
"Thank you, Master; thank you so much," I reply, and then I wait to see what else He has planned.
Ah, yes, my birthday. I'm probably too old for cake and balloons and prettily-wrapped presents, though I will admit, I still really like those things. But I took the day off to pamper myself, and that's exactly what I plan to do.
I enjoy a quiet, lazy morning, waking up when I'm rested, and not to the alarm. I relax on the couch for a nice long while, sipping my way through two cups of coffee with flavored creamer - white chocolate raspberry, mmm - and playing crossword games online. I give myself a pedicure, and paint my toenails a playful orange hue. I grab a late breakfast - a chocolate-chip waffle smeared with peanut butter and some vanilla yogurt. With my tummy full, I settle back on the couch and check my email. I smile when I see several birthday wishes waiting for me, and take the time to read each one.
By this point my nail polish is fully dry, so I wander to the bathroom and fill the tub, the water as hot as I can stand it. I ease into the water, hissing at the heat of it, which almost hurts, but I love it. Once I'm seated, I have to prop my feet up on the side, above the water, as it's too hot with my feet submerged. My skin has reddened already, and as I get used to the heat, I inch down until I am reclining in the tub. Aaahhhhh. Bliss.
I soak for a long while, until the water has nearly cooled. Then I scrub up and shave. There. All smooth, all squeaky-clean, all fragrant and relaxed. And wrinkly. Hmmm. After drying off, I slather my skin with lotion, and wait for it to absorb before pulling on simple white cotton panties and a white tank top. It's simple, comfy, and exactly what I want on my day off.
I nestle back on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee, flipping through the TV channels until I get to SyFy, where a tacky grade-B creature flick is playing. I love these - mutant animals terrorizing the local population until the resident geek/nerd/outcast comes up with a crazy plan to save the day, and in the process, gets the girl.
The body count is at an even dozen, and the hero is being pursued by a giant spider with acid-soaked silk, when the doorbell rings. So I leave the movie running and answer the door. I know some would be reluctant to open the door in just their underwear, but hey, it's my birthday, and I'm in my own home, and I didn't invite anyone over, so I feel justified. I pull the door open, then step back in surprise; there on my front stoop is my Master. And no, I was not expecting to see Him.
I walk backwards, pulling the door open wide and inviting Master inside. I know I have a stupid grin on my face, but damn, I am happy to see Him.
"Hello, Kitten," He says.
"Welcome, Master," I reply.
And then He takes charge. "Position 2," He commands, and I peel off my clothes and drop to my knees, sitting up tall and lacing my hands behind my head. He closes the door, then circles me, stopping in front of me and cupping my chin in His hand, tipping my head back until I meet His eyes.
"Happy birthday," He says.
"Thank you, Master," I say. And then, "I'm really glad to see you."
He says nothing, merely smiles, but there's a gleam in His eye that makes me simultaneously nervous and excited. A shiver moves through me and my heart rate picks up speed.
My knees are beginning to ache a bit, and He tells me to assume Position 4. I unlace my hands and shift my weight forward, resting my face and shoulders on the floor and reaching back to grasp my ass cheeks with my hands. It feels good to stretch, I admit, and I close my eyes and just breathe. Then Master reaches down and taps my back sharply, and I open my eyes.
"You need to be in this position when I return, Kitten," He tells me.
"Yes, Master," I say. And then, He is gone down the hall. I close my eyes and breathe, and try to relax. Faintly, I can hear some muted sounds from down the hall, but I can't really tell what's going on. And it's all right. Master will let me know in His good time.
Perhaps 10 minutes later - I'm not really sure, as I am a terrible judge of time, but my legs are feeling kind of numb - I hear Master's footsteps coming back toward me. A thrill of anticipation ripples through me, and I tense a little bit when He stops by my side. He reaches down and strokes my back, once, twice, a third time, and I feel myself relax. He tells me to stand, so I do, wobbling a bit on sore knees and wincing as the blood flows through my calves, giving them that pins-and-needles feeling. When I am steady, Master speaks again, directing me to move to my bedroom and then wait for Him.
As I step through the bedroom door, I can see Master's cane propped against the foot board, a candle burning on the night stand, my anal plug, lube, and Smartballs laid out on a small towel. He has not told me what to do, exactly, so I assume Position 1 - kneeling, with my head bowed and my hands resting palms-up on my knees. After just a few minutes, Master enters the room. I hear thump, and a clink, and then He says, "Good girl." And I smile.
He tells me to stand up and assume Position 3 - feet apart, hands clasped behind my back - and then He places a blindfold over my eyes. My heart speeds up in anticipation. And when Master cups my breasts in His hands, I suck in a breath. He plays with the nipples, pinching and tweaking and rubbing them, and they perk up and stiffen and grow taut. He pulls on them a bit, too, stretching them, and I wince a little when His play becomes uncomfortable. He cups the right breast and slaps it, hard, three times, and then treats the other breast in the same manner. I know I will have finger-shaped bruises after that.
My breathing is slightly erratic, coming in shallow pants, and He leans down and bites my shoulder. I wince and moan, because it hurts, but again, I know I will bear a bruise, and I don't mind.
Master tells me to get up on the bed on my hands and knees, and He helps guide me, as I am still wearing the blindfold. Once I am in position, I hear Him moving around the room, and then the bed dips as He joins me. I hear a snap, like a cap being opened, and right after, I feel a cold, wet sensation at my anus. I drop my head to my arms and shift my knees apart, allowing Master easier access. I feel His finger breach me, and it's uncomfortable, but not painful. After a few moments, the finger is gone, and replaced by something larger, slick and cold. He's working the plug into my ass. I try to help by pushing back and trying to relax, so that insertion is easier, but God, I hate this thing. I always have, because it hurts every time, and I almost always bleed. It takes several minutes - and I am grateful that He takes His time, easing me open little by little - but at last, the plug is seated, and I am left with the stretched full heavy feeling of the plug.
Master begins to play with the plug, holding it by the base and making little thrusting motions, so that it begins to slide in and out of my ass. It is not pleasant at first, as I'm still pretty tight around it, but gradually it goes from painful and harsh to more open and slick, and eventually I almost begin to enjoy it. Almost. When I am about as open and relaxed as possible, Master slowly eases the plug all the way out, and then His cock is right there, pushing inside, and again, I push back and try to take Him as deep as I can.
This is still a little uncomfortable, but way better than the plug, and when Master begins to fuck me, I push back against Him, taking Him balls-deep. We rock for several minutes, His thrusts coming harder and harder, and the bed is shaking and He is moaning a little, and I am panting and moaning, myself. His fingers grip my hips as He slams into me, and again, I will sport bruises from His powerful hold. Eventually, though, He thrusts in one final time and cums inside me, pushing in as deep as He possibly can and then giving a series of short shallow thrusts as He rides His climax out. He lets Himself drape over my back, not putting all His weight on me, but leaning enough, and I revel in the skin-to-skin contact while He pants and recovers. And when He pulls out, I whine in protest and try to follow, but He just laughs at me.
I sit back on my heels and reach to remove the blindfold, so I can see Him, as it is my happy task to clean His cock after sex, but He stops me and tells me to get back on my hands and knees. I am puzzled, but I obey, and mere moments later I let out a hiss as hot wax drizzles across my lower back and down over my ass. Aahhh, it burns, but it's so good, and I vocalize short gasping whines with each splash and drip. When the wax is gone, the bed shifts again as He places the candle back on the night stand, and I hear a clink. The next thing I know, I am shrieking in surprise and trying to shrink away from the abrupt searing cold of an ice cube. Contrasted with the heat of the melted wax, the cold burns, and it's more painful to me than the wax was, truly. He rubs the ice all over my lower back, though, along my spine, then as that cube melts to nothingness, He applies a fresh cube to my ass cheeks and down the crack of my ass. I'm panting in earnest, now, as the cold makes me flinch.
Suddenly He pushes me, and I tilt over. His hands grab my hips and pull me to my back, the dried wax flaking off onto the sheets as He slides me to the edge of the bed. And before I can catch my breath or orient myself to this new position, He has buried His face between my legs and is feasting on me. Oh, fuck, yes! I love this, and now I am shrieking for a whole different reason. His tongue is relentless, His hands holding my hips firmly, and already I can feel my orgasm rushing to meet me. It's hard and fast and glorious, and in what seems like no time at all, I am screaming out, bucking into His mouth, flooding His tongue with my juices as He licks and slurps and laps at me, and even though it's almost too much, almost too soon, and almost too harsh, He pulls a second climax from me. Thisone almost hurts, truly, but it's so good!
I collapse to the bed, shaking and panting, gasping for breath, feeling all flushed and spent and too warm, but completely sated and oh, so satisfied. He peels the blindfold off, and I blink rapidly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light again.
"Happy birthday, Kitten," He says.
"Thank you, Master; thank you so much," I reply, and then I wait to see what else He has planned.
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