Unfettered

This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.



Master has arranged some time away for us, a chance to focus solely on each other and leave everything else behind for a bit. It's been a while since we've had an opportunity like this, so I am quite excited about it. I'm also a bit nervous, as this promises to be an intense experience; I've been told that he has much planned for me.

I'll be honest - we have just emerged from a bit of a rough patch, and while I feel more settled and sure of my choices, I also have some lingering, niggling fears in the back of my mind. What if he asks something of me I cannot do? What if I am inadequate to the tasks he sets before me? What will happen if I fail?

That's the biggest fear I have. I'm not perfect; I'm flawed and prone to doubts and unsure of myself and sometimes, I don't trust myself - or him - enough. Still, I can look back to the beginning of my journey, and I can see how far I've come, and what things I accept and comply with and revel in, when just a couple years ago they were foreign and uncomfortable. 

But for now, I'm determined to put all that aside, and do my best to obey and please my Master.

The place he has chosen takes my breath away when I first see it: a small house tucked at the base of a verdant hill, far from its neighbors and seeming to blend in with the surrounding trees. The drive to the house is lined with - are you ready? - the cliched white picket fence, and widens to a half-circle as it approaches the house.

I step out of the car and take in the covered front porch, the faded green shutters, the riot of flowers lining the front of the house. It's utterly charming, and my lips curve up in a genuinely delighted smile. I ascend the steps and approach the front door; it's painted the same green as the shutters, also slightly faded, with a painted wooden sign which proclaims, "WeLcoMe" in bright white letters. The door opens into a small foyer. To the left I see the living room; to the right, a sunny kitchen. Master is an excellent cook, and if I'm lucky, he might treat me to a meal or two. 

I walk through the kitchen and find, at the back, a staircase to the upper story. The kitchen leads me back into the living room, but other than a quick glance through the room, I ignore it. Instead I head upstairs, finding a smallish bedroom and a study, a decent-sized bathroom with - oh, this is awesome! - a real claw-foot tub. I can already imagine myself soaking in it. Mmm. I pass the bathroom into the last room, a larger bedroom with a beautiful oaken four-poster bed. I can't help touching one of the the skillfully carved bedposts, running my fingers over the detailed renderings of wheat sheaves and corn stalks. My imagination runs away with me, then, and I'm daydreaming about being bound to that bed.

Oh, I certainly hope I will be.

A noise startles me, and I spin around to see Master watching me with a bemused smile on his face. I feel self-conscious and silly, but he's not making fun of me. I have a sneaking suspiscion that he knows exactly what thoughts have been flitting through my mind, and, dare I say it, I think he approves.

He approaches me, almost stalking me, and I feel a thrill of anticipation run through me. The game has begun, and I am almost quivering already. He stops right next to me, and I have to tip my head back to see his face properly. In the quiet which hangs between us, I'm aware that my heart is beating too fast, and my breathing is too quick. I lick my lips.

He reaches out and tangles his fingers in my hair (which I keep short, at his request) and pulls my head back just a bit further. "Hello, pet," he says.

"Hello, Master," I reply, and my voice sounds breathy in my ears. He smiles, a genuine smile, and bends his head. When his breath washes over my ear, I close my eyes and shiver. His hand leaves my hair and slides down to grasp my neck, his fingers spanning my throat and squeezing just a hair, forcing my head to stay back. God, I love it when he does that. He murmurs into my ear.

"And is my whore ready to serve her Master?" 

My breath catches in my throat, and I shiver again. Honest to God, all he's done is grab my throat and whisper in my ear, and my knees are already threatening to buckle. I feel a flame of desire sweep through my body, need beginning to burn between my legs. "Yes, Master," I manage to whisper, but it's much harder than it ought to be.

"Position I," he commands, stepping away from me. I hurry to strip out of my clothes, then drop to my knees before him, bending my head and laying my hands palms-up on my knees. I'm very grateful there's an area rug, as it provides some protection from the wood floors. It's not a very thick rug, though, so the floor still feels hard and unforgiving under my bent legs. I wait, as still as I can, and the moment stretches and stretches as he contemplates my bent form.

Then I feel his hand touch my head, sliding down my face and gently tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock, " he says. "Don't you agree, whore?"

"Oh, yes, Master, indeed," I say, and we both reach to remove his clothing. He pulls his shirt over his head, leaving most of the buttons fastened, then toes off his shoes before stepping out of his pants and boxers. I sit up on my knees, stretching the already-tired muscles, and run my hands up his legs before leaning forward and capturing his cock with my mouth. He's not yet hard, so I can take all of him, down to the root, and suckle him on my tongue. His scent fills my nose, so I breathe shallowly, acclimating myself to the musky scent. It's like I have to relearn his unique smell all over again, every time. Soon enough, I can feel his shaft swelling in my mouth, growing on my tongue, and I start to slowly bob my head, pulling him in and letting him slide back out, the warmth and wetness of my tongue bathing his cock with every glide. 

I let my left palm rest on his leg, lightly bracing myself, while my right hand cups his balls, gently kneading them in my palm. I hear his intake of breath and smile to myself, sucking him harder, sometimes swirling my tongue around the head of his cock, sometimes pressing him to the back of my throat. I'm not very skilled at it, and I end up gagging myself pretty harshly, but I don't pull away. My jaw begins to ache, my knees are terribly sore, and his cock is so swollen and full that it stretches my mouth when I pull him in. I shift on my knees and grasp the base of his cock with my fingers, and I can feel his leg shake under my palm.

"That's enough, pet," he says, and I slowly, reluctantly pull away, suckling his cock as I pull my head back, and daring to lave the tip with my tongue as I let him go. I'm panting a little, as I always do - I swear, giving oral is a workout. He tells me to stand, so I do, wincing as the blood rushes to my lower legs, and I wobble as I stand.   

"Turn around," he orders, so I shakily turn to face the foot of the bed. He gently pushes me, so I walk the few steps it takes to reach the bed, then stop, and wait. My calves are prickling, still, and I shift my weight from foot to foot, hoping it eases soon. Master comes to stand beside me, and I tilt my head to look at him.

"Aren't these bedposts pretty, my whore?" he asks, and I agree - they certainly are. The foot board is rather low, and I imagine I could fairly comfortably lean forward to rest on the bed. He takes my right hand and stretches my arm out so I can touch the bedpost with him. "Wait right there," he says, and I nod my head, and he walks out the door. I can hear him descending the stairs and moving around on the first floor, then his footsteps come back up the stairs again. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder and catch sight of him coming in the door.  He's carrying a duffel bag, which he drops near the bed. He unzips the top and pulls out a long length of rope. My heart skips a beat, and I can't help the small smile that teases my lips. I adore being bound, and he knows it. 

He takes his time, not saying a word, but begins winding the soft rope around my hand, the one still flush with the bedpost. He loops the rope around my wrist, securing me to the post, but I have room to wiggle my fingers. The rope then winds up my arm in a loose spiral, around my back, under my left breast and across my right shoulder, then under my right breast and across my left shoulder. I give up trying to trace the path of the rope then, and merely stand still and quiet, allowing him to truss my breasts. It's a little uncomfortable, but not actually painful, and finally the rope loops along my left arm and ends up securing my left hand to the opposite bedpost. My arms are stretched out about as far as they can go.

He steps up behind me, his arms coming around me, and cups my breasts in his hands. I suck in a breath at the contact and lean back against my bonds to rest against him. "You should see yourself," he murmurs. "All tied up, so pretty." His thumbs are rubbing over my nipples and my knees are feeling weak again. I let my head drop back against his chest and close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his body, the raspy feel of his thumbs, the heat of his palms. He pinches my nipples, hard, and I shudder and gasp. Yes, it hurt, and no, I don't really love it, but oh man, I can feel the wetness between my legs now, and I would really, really love for him to finger my (his!) pussy. I whimper, and shift against him, and he pinches my nipples again, more sharply, and I can't help the whispered, "Ow," that escapes me. 
   
"Ow," he mocks me, and I flush, embarrassed, but again, he's not really making fun of me, so I force myself to relax. One of his hands strays from my breast, down my stomach, and the muscles there contract and quiver as his fingers brush over my skin, down, down, and finally (finally!) his hand cups my mound and his fingers rub against my clit. It's almost like an electric shock, with how my body convulses and the immediate blaze of need and desire that sweeps over me. I pull against my bonds and moan, it's that good, and I shift my feet further apart to better allow him access. 

But just as I do, he pulls away, and my moan this time is mixed with a whine of disappointment. No, no; please, come back! my mind protests, and I stumble back as he steps away from me entirely. I close my eyes and try to rein in my breathing; I'm gasping slightly, pulling in erratic puffs of air. I can hear him rummaging around in the duffel bag, but I don't try to see. I'm busy standing on shaky legs, my heart beating furiously in my chest.

Suddenly, without warning, a sharp sting lands across my ass, and I jump, my eyes opening wide, a protesting "Hey!" falling from my lips. I immediately realize that he's using the flogger, and in that same instant I go from "what the hell??" to "oh, this is gonna be good." Even so, I can't help tensing in anticipation of the next blow, and it falls, sharp and heavy, across my ass. I jump, again, even though I was expecting it, because damn, it stings like crazy. With my arms bound to the bedposts, I can't move much, other than to bounce on my feet a bit.    

Master changes tactics then, choosing to caress my back with the flogger instead of popping me with it. I close my eyes and moan softly, because really, the feel of the tails dragging over my skin is so, so sensual, and my insides are turning to liquid fire with every touch. He allows he flogger to trail over my shoulder and down over my bound breasts, swirling over the nipples in turn, and I buck against my bonds and groan. Oh my God, I just want to cum already, I ache so very fiercely. But he denies my release, keeping me trembling and on edge, and just as I throw my head back and sob, once, he smacks the flogger against my ass again. And I jump, again, and my desire shivers and trembles, but it's not so all-consuming as before.

Several strokes later, Master steps back to admire his handiwork. At least, I assume he does, based on his next comment - "Such pretty stripes, my pet." And even though I've done nothing to warrant praise, save stand there and complacently accept his flogging, I say, "Thank you, Master." I'm trembling, aching, my knees feeling like jelly, my shoulders aching from being stretched out for so long, my pussy weeping - I can feel drips rolling down my inner thighs. Master reaches down and plunges two fingers inside his pussy, letting loose a sigh of approval and saying, "Oh, you are SO wet, aren't you, kitten?" I can only moan, and writhe on his fingers, and hope he'll allow me release.

He steps closer, fucking me with his fingers, and his thumb presses against my clit. I cry out, and buck, and I want to cum so very badly, and he leans down and whispers in my ear - "Cum for me, pet." I pull back against my bonds and let go, and my climax shatters me, absolutely tears me apart, and if not for Master's body behind me and the ropes holding me to the bedposts, I would fall down. I can do nothing but endure, and be thankful for the ropes and Master's strength. Finally, the surge ends, and I almost collapse.

Master carefully unties the ropes around my right hand, unwinding them from my wrist, my arm, and my arm falls down and tingles, while I shake it and wiggle my fingers, helping the circulation come back. He works to unbind my breasts, and finally my other arm, and I'm suddenly so tired, yet I'm greedy enough to want more. I can see the red marks where the rope has bound me, and I'm oddly proud of them.

Master presses his hand between my shoulder blades, bending me forward, down, until I'm resting face down on the bed, my feet still on the floor, and spread, my ass in the air. I keep my arms tucked fairly close to my sides, my shoulders still sore and tired, but I'm so, so happy. I hear Master fumbing through the duffel bag again, but I don't look; I'm content to rest there, and wait, until he tells me what to do.

In a few more heartbeats, I feel his finger, slick and cool, pressing inside my ass. I try to relax, to help, but he works methodically, carefully, first one finger, then two, stretching me. It feels - weird, not painful, really, but decidedly odd. Eventually, he deems me ready, and then I feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I try to relax, even more than before, and he slowly, slowly presses and pushes and forces his way inside. It burns, and hurts, and sometimes feels like he's going sideways, but eventually he slides all the way in, and stills, letting me adjust to him. This, then, is the moment I've craved, when Master is joined with me, when this body provides him pleasure, when he can fuck his whore with abandon and let himself go. 

And he does, his cock pounding into my ass, my lower half sliding back and forth across the end of the bed with the force of his thrusts. I'm sweating, trapped beneath his body, my ass stretched and open, and I know I'm going to be sore - but I don't care, Master is using his whore, and I am reveling in it. At last, and all too soon, with a grunt and a great shuddering sigh, he climaxes, filling my ass with his cum and stretching up to bite my shoulder. I give a choked cry at the flare of pain, which then turns into a whimper as he pulls out. He rubs my ass soothingly, and tells me to get up on the bed and rest for a bit. I climb up on top of the covers and pull a pillow under my head, smiling drowsily at him when he lies beside me. And this, too, is a moment I've craved, when he is pleased with me, and he calls me his good girl.