---- explicit sexual content ----
It’s almost time, now, and I’m nervous. I can’t help it,
despite Sir’s reassurances and his promises and his surety.
I’ve been in Sir’s room for a couple of hours now; we have
spent that time reaffirming our bond and my obedience and his mastery and yes,
we have been naked and had sex and so much more than sex.
And I want to believe him, I do, but there’s a part of me
that just cannot wrap my head around what he wants, and I’m struggling with it.
As the clock ticks on, I grow more nervous and jumpy and
distracted, and finally Sir has had enough of my wandering attention. We are on the bed, lying quietly, when my
fidgeting gets the better of him. In the space of a heartbeat he is leaning
over me, his hand wrapped around my throat, startling me into shocked
stillness. I look up at him, and he speaks, his eyes fierce and determined and
compelling.
“I know you are nervous, Kitten,” he begins. At least he’s
calling me Kitten. That shows he’s
not too angry with me. “I want this, and I want you to share it with me. And
that’s what it is – a sharing. Not a
replacing, not a substituting, not a comparing. Do you understand?”
Not really, I want
to say. But that would be beyond stupid, and so I hold his gaze and merely nod
the best I can with his hand pinning my neck. He relents, then, easing his hand
away from me and pulling back a bit. But only a bit.
See, Sir has planned that today, we will be joined by a
third party, another woman. And I’m not keen on the idea, but Sir wants it, and
so here I am. And my own fears and insecurities are what’s driving my
reluctance. I’m not opposed to the idea of homosexuality, or of threesomes, in
general. I just never thought I’d be participating. And I’m not comfortable.
But Sir has held off on this for more than a year, now, and I feel like I owe
him my best attempt at giving him this wish.
But oh, how my heart is racing, and I’m frightened. Not of
the woman he’s chosen, though I do not know her. I trust that Sir would never
allow me to be harmed, ever (notice I did not say, Sir would never allow me to
be hurt, but even then, it’s only by his hand, and of very brief duration, and
spoken about beforehand). No, I’m victim here of my own insecurities.
When we first discussed the idea of a threesome encounter,
Sir made it very clear that he was not looking to replace me – a huge fear of
mine. I have no illusions about my appearance; I’m not quite so young, any
more, and I can’t help that my hair shows traces of silver, and my waist is
thicker than it used to be. And in my head I am convinced that our soon-to-be
partner will be young and nubile and much more flexible, and she’ll be the
perfect compliant submissive, and I know that comparisons will be made. It’s
human nature. But I am so, so afraid of being found wanting, and being told (no
matter how gently) that it’s just not going to work out between us anymore.
And Sir has done his absolute best to convince me that I am
wrong. But my fear persists. And it is getting in the way, now, and I’m allowing
it to create a wedge between us, and I feel helpless.
But anyway, it’s too late – there’s a knock at the door.
Sir tells me to dress, and I quickly pull on my cotton
panties and tank top, and follow him to the door. My heart is racing, and my
mouth is dry, and – oh God, should I have grabbed a breath mint?
In my panic I almost miss it when Sir opens the door. He
steps back to allow her to enter, and I can’t see her yet, and I’ve stopped
breathing.
Then she steps to the side to allow him to close the door,
and I get my first glimpse.
She’s younger than I am (I knew it, I knew it), but my next glance shows faint lines at the corners of
her eyes, so perhaps she’s not as young as I first assumed. She has dark blonde
hair, falling in a soft straight curtain to sweep her shoulders, and she’s a
bit taller than I am.
But then I see that she’s of a similar body type as I am,
and I start breathing again. Maybe, just maybe, this might not be the break-up
set-up I keep envisioning. And the rational part of my brain smacks me upside
the head with a smug I told you so, but
I can’t deny the relief I feel. And it’s ridiculous, and irrational, and Sir
has told me often enough that he’s not getting rid of me, but now for the first
time I actually allow myself to believe it.
Because I’ve been Sir’s sub for a few years now, and quite
honestly, I’m not ready to not be.
So I smile when Sir introduces us, and hold out my hand for
her to shake without it trembling, and meet Sir’s questioning glance without
flinching. And when Sir beckons me to show her to the bedroom, I ask her,
politely, to please follow me, and lead her down the hall.
And then Sir takes charge, and I do my best to lock away my
lingering misgivings, and train my attention on him, the way it should be. And
I know that he sees me trying, and a brief smile crosses his face.
“Make our guest comfortable, Kitten,” he tells me, and I
lead her to the chair tucked under the window, near the bed. Before she sits
down, though, I reach for the button and zipper of her jeans, and she glances
at Sir to see what she should do. He merely nods, and I undo the button and
slide the zipper down, then tug the jeans down over her hips. I sink to my
knees and grasp one foot, then the other, sliding off her sandals and placing
them neatly to the side. I pull her jeans all the way down and slip them off
each foot, then fold them neatly and place them atop her shoes. Her panties
follow next, and again, I fold them and place them on her jeans.
I ask her to sit, please, toward the front of the chair, and
when she does, I draw in a deep breath, closing my eyes and gathering my
courage and obedience and my will. I open my eyes and lean forward, bracing my
hands on her knees and gently pushing them apart. She’s tense, I can feel it, and
I realize she is nervous, too. Somehow, that makes it better. A little.
My tongue comes out and licks up her inner thigh, and she
draws in a breath and holds it. At the joint of her hip, I pull a tiny bit of
skin between my teeth and nip her, very gently. She lets go the breath she’s
holding on a sigh, so I choose another patch of skin and nip her again. I pull
back and lick my way up her other thigh, and I feel her start to relax a
little. This time, there’s a hitch in her breath when I nip her, and I lean in
closer still, and duck my head, and my tongue sweeps lightly over her clit. She
leans back in the chair with a soft sound of surprise, opening her legs to
grant me access, so I follow that first sweep with a second, and then a third,
and the sound she makes now tells me she’s enjoying it. I’m glad for that – I’m
not really comfortable doing this, not even for Sir, but at least she doesn’t
hate my clumsy efforts.
“That’s enough,” Sir’s voice rings out, and I pull away and
sit back on my heels.
He tells me to get on the bed, and as I do, he tells her to
strip off the rest of her clothes. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch. I
hear him cross the room, and then I’m startled as a soft strip of cloth covers
my eyes. Oh, a blindfold. Hmm. He has me tilt my head so he can fasten the
ties, then tells me to lie on my back. I’m still clothed, if you can really
call panties and a tank top “clothed”, and somehow, the knowledge that she’s
naked while I’m not makes her seem more vulnerable, even though I can’t see
her.
Sir tells me to raise my hands over my head, and I feel him binding
my wrists with some kind of soft rope. Ooh. I like this, yes, indeed. He bends
down close enough that I can feel his breath, warm on my ear. “Mine,”
he whispers, and I cannot stop the shiver that goes through me. I am his, yes,
and he well knows it, but his declaration is reassurance, and I feel some more
of my hesitance and reluctance melt away.
His mouth fastens on mine in a searing kiss, while his hand
works underneath my tank top and rests on my breast. He plays with the nipple,
his fingers teasing and rubbing and twisting, and a spike of desire shoots
through me. I shift and moan into his mouth when he pinches the nipple, and he
swallows my needy sound. His hand leaves my breast and I arch my back, blindly
trying to follow his hand, but he grasps the bottom of my tank top and hikes it
up, and up, and over my head and off my shoulders, until it’s bunched up around
my bound wrists. I shiver, again, from the coolness of the air, and then his
mouth fastens over my breast, his tongue hot and wet and rasping over my
nipple, and I’m moaning again because it’s so, so good.
And then I feel a second mouth closing over my other breast,
and I freeze in surprise and apprehension. I hadn’t heard her move, nor paid
attention to the way the bed dipped when she climbed on. Sir reclaims my
attention by nipping me, and I shudder and say, “Ow,” even though it doesn’t
really hurt, it just caught me by surprise. He soothes the tiny sting with his
tongue, and I whine in my throat at the way his mouth suckles me, pulling the
nipple between his teeth and then swooping in to suck on it again. God, that’s
delicious.
I admit, I never really thought about what it might feel
like to have two mouths working on me at the same time. I can tell the
difference, of course; her hair is long enough that I feel it sweeping across
my skin as she moves. Her mouth is smaller, and she doesn’t suck with the same
rhythm or strength, but wow, it’s quite a bit more exciting that I would have
believed. I’m losing my reluctance, to be honest, even though I have to
deliberately shut off the part of my brain that’s screaming That’s a girl! And you don’t even know her!
And hello – that’s a girl!!
Sir nips me again, pulling my focus back on him, and I tilt
my head in his direction. I arch up, trying to get him to take even more of my
flesh into his mouth, and I am aware, now, of moisture between my legs. Sir has
always, always made me wet, made me want him, coaxed my body to respond to him,
and now is no different. I unconsciously open my knees, and his hand is there,
stroking the skin of my leg, building the desire I’m starting to really feel.
I shift on the bed, wordlessly encouraging him to touch me,
to caress and stroke and tease me, but Sir will not be rushed nor coerced, and
he takes his sweet time in tracing little patterns on my thigh with his
fingers. His mouth leaves my breast, then, and I whine loudly in
disappointment, and a moment later her mouth is gone, also. He must have
signaled her or something, because no words were spoken.
In the next moment, two mouths are on my thighs, licking and
nibbling and nipping, and I gasp in surprise at how good it feels. I know I
love it when Sir builds me up like this, taking his time in sweet suspense, his
lips and teeth and tongue scorching trails of heated desire on my skin, but I
never suspected how much more it would be with two. There’s nowhere to go, no respite from
sensation the way there is with one, switching from leg to leg. It’s just
constant stimulation, and there’s nothing even that sexual about it, except
that I am totally turned on and my juices are flowing freely. My whine this
time is a plea; for what, exactly, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure, myself.
But Sir understands, in that way that he does, and his
tongue leaves my thigh and sweeps over my clit, and I buck and moan and seek
more, and more, and he nudges her aside so he can settle between my knees, and
buries his face in my pussy. God! I love, love, love this, and I’m grinding
into his mouth, and tossing my head, because yes, this is what I need, and I want it. I feel his fingers
probing, and I open my legs wider as he presses two fingers inside me. I suck
in a breath and release it on a long moan, and it’s so, so good, and he
finger-fucks me, and his mouth is doing amazing things, and I can feel my
approaching climax like a knot low in my belly, tightening and pulling and
building…..
And then her mouth closes over my breast as her fingers
reach to play with my other nipple, and I arch involuntarily and moan, again, a
long spiraling sound. Sir’s tongue lashes my clit and I writhe underneath him,
seeking my release, the inevitable end to this achingly sweet torture. His
teeth close down on my clit and his fingers push in deep, and I shriek as that
coil finally snaps. My climax crashes over me, intense and burning, and I flood
Sir’s mouth in a rush of liquid. My wail is cut off abruptly as her mouth
covers mine, and she swallows my cry, her lips sealing over mine, her tongue
plunging into my mouth. I am rocked by waves of pleasure so intense it’s almost
painful, and it goes on and on, since Sir hasn’t let up yet, his mouth and his
fingers still working, to wring out every last drop I can produce, I think.
Finally, though, I wrench my head to the side and gasp for
air, my legs shaking, and I shift, to let Sir know that it’s too much, now, too
sensitive, and he eases back and slowly pulls his fingers free. And even though
having those fingers inside me was too much, I whine at their loss, and Sir
laughs at me. His wet fingers touch my lips, and I open my mouth so he can
insert them. I clean his fingers for him, running my tongue over them and
sucking all traces of my release from them.
He kisses me then, deeply, and I taste myself on his tongue,
blending, mingling, and it is glorious. He reaches up and pushes the material
of my tank top out of the way so he can untie me, and as he leans over me, he
whispers into my ear – “Good girl.”
But when I reach up to remove the blindfold, he tells me to
leave it alone. I frown, but obey. And then he tells me to get on my hands and
knees. I roll to my side and then push myself up, his hands on my hips tugging
and pushing and placing me where he wants me. When I am settled, he tells her
to get back on the bed (I didn’t even realize she’d left it), her back against
the headboard, her legs open. And then I understand.
He comes around behind me and leans over my back, and
instructs me to finger her. It’s a little awkward, to be honest, because I
can’t see where she is, exactly, and my hand is trembling a bit. But then I
touch her leg, and follow it up to her core, and I use two fingers to explore
her folds and find her entrance. She is warm, and wet, and even though God
knows I have fingered myself plenty of times, it is not the same. The angles is
different, the smells and sounds are different, and I press my fingers deep
inside her, then pull them nearly free before sliding them back inside again. I
can feel the inner walls clenching around my fingers, pulling at them, hear her
sighs and little moans, and in the privacy of my head I thank Sir profusely for
leaving the blindfold on me, because I don’t think I am ready to see her
staring at me while I explore.
After a few minutes, she’s moaning more loudly, and Sir
leans over me once more.
“Go ahead, Kitten – taste her.”
Thankful that Sir can’t see my grimace – and not caring all
that much if she does – I obediently bend my head and lick at her, tasting the
juices running from her pussy. Eh, not too different from my own, I guess. I’m
glad she’s happy, and glad that Sir is happy, but in and of itself, I’m not all
that thrilled by the experience. Still, she did play her part in my pleasure
earlier; I suppose it’s only fair that I do my part.
And then Sir ups the ante… I feel the head of his cock
pressing between my legs, and I shift my knees apart to give him access. Ah,
yes, there, and the head of his cock
breaches my entrance, and bit by bit, he eases all the way inside me. I shiver,
it’s so good, and I push back against him in an effort to get him to move.
He sets a slow pace, languid, easy, no hurry, and his cock
slides in and out, in and out, and even though I’ve recently cum, and even
though I’m still slightly sore, I want more, dammit, want him to pound into me
and fuck me and own me, and I give an
impatient growl when he refuses.
“Now, now, Kitten,” he admonishes me. “You cannot cum until
our guest does.”
Oh.
Oh.
I set to work in earnest, then, and in the back of my mind I
admit I’ve been less than gracious about it. I’m still glad to have the
blindfold, but I can tell my touches are more meaningful, now, less mechanical
and more present. She shifts and sighs, feeling the difference, and Sir rewards
me by picking up the pace a little.
And now I can feel the way her body responds to me, feel the
way her juices flow and coat my fingers, feel it as her clit swells and becomes
more and more sensitive. She moans with every lick, and then rocks her hips,
catching me unawares and bumping my chin.
“Oh, you like that,” I say, surprising myself, and then I
lick her again, causing her to rock her hips once more. And then Sir starts to
fuck me, finally, slamming into me and rocking me forward, and my fingers end
up really ramming into her, and I freeze because I think perhaps I’ve hurt her,
but she grabs my wrist and pants, “No, please, don’t stop, please.”
Well, all right, then. I work my fingers faster, harder,
thrusting them in deep and pulling them out, over and over and over, and all
the while I’m licking her clit as best I can, and Sir is fucking me, hard, the
way I love it, and I am having trouble timing my fingers and tongue with Sir’s
pounding of my pussy. I’m squirming, and panting and moaning, myself, my voice
blending with and then competing against hers as we both strain toward climax.
I hear Sir’s voice in the mix, now, his grunts and groans telling me that he’s
close, too, and I find that I want him to cum, badly, want his cum to coat my
insides, want his essence filling me, marking me as his.
I can tell by the way she trembles, and the way her inner
muscles start grabbing at my fingers, that she is close. So I finger fuck her
faster, ignoring the ache in my wrist and the way my other arm shakes with the
strain of holding myself up, and drag my tongue firmly up over her clit, and
then pull that swollen nub between my teeth and gently bite. She flies apart,
screaming, and she grabs my head and thrashes and rides out her orgasm,
relaxing back as it passes, and panting to catch her breath. I ease my fingers
out of her body and brace myself more firmly on the bed – easier now that I
have two arms available.
And Sir is buried as deep as he possibly can go, fucking me
hard enough to rock my body forward with each thrust. I rock back against him,
meeting him thrust for thrust, and I can feel myself bearing down on him, my
pussy clenching as my climax grows closer. He leans over me and growls out, “Who
owns you? Who is your Master, huh? Who owns
you?”
“You do, Sir! Only you!” I gasp out, and then he reaches
around my hip and rubs my clit with his fingers. I explode, then, cumming so
hard I literally do not have the breath to scream, shaking and moaning, my
muscles locking while the waves crash over me and carry me away. Stars burst
behind my closed eyelids, white and bright and all-consuming. Moments later,
Sir stiffens and groans and rams himself in deep, and deeper, and I feel his
legs shake as he empties himself in me, filling my pussy with his hot cum. It
is beyond glorious, truly.
He holds me in place until his cock is completely spent,
then gently eases back and pulls out of me. I can feel the way he settles,
lying back on the bed, and I reach up and rip off the blindfold, blinking in
the sudden brightness. But my vision quickly clears, and I find my prize: I
scoot around on my knees, lean over Sir, and pull his cock into my mouth. He
shudders, and moans, and I clean him carefully, thoroughly, licking his shaft
and gently sucking him, catching all traces of his cum, tasting him mixed with
my own juices. When his cock is completely clean, I collapse to the bed at his
side, panting harshly, feeling his cum leaking down my thighs, and happy about
it.
She slides down the bed, too, finding a more comfortable
position to relax in, and slips into a doze – I can tell by the way her
breathing evens out, and she snores, very quietly. I am sleepy, myself, and
feel myself melting, the world fading away. Before I succumb, though, I grasp
Sir’s hand and raise it to my lips, kissing it, slowly, reverently. I may not have been happy with Sir’s plan for
today, but I made it through, I obeyed, and I managed to enjoy it. I’m sure Sir
is pleased with me, and that’s the most important thing.
He touches my head, and I look up and meet his eyes. “Mine,”
he says quietly.
“Yours,” I agree. “Thank you, Sir.”