Lonely Bloom
After he got the news, his arms went limp and the rose fell to the floor. He stood there, staring at it for a few moments. Unable to move or even think. Finally, he unfolded the paper and began reading again the poem he had composed for her.
"Though we're apart and my life is a desert, love can still bloom in the driest of places. Like a rose that waters itself with the tears of missing you."
He stopped short, unable to finish. Then stooping down, he picked up the flower, and put it under his nose, allowing its fragrance to linger there. As he stood up and inhaled deeply, he recalled the place where they had first met.
It was at a little sidewalk café, in Paris, where he often went to work on his journal. He was sitting alone, she with friends. He was jotting down some random observations about the music and the cuisine when she came up softly. She cleared her throat a little, causing him to gaze up and stare at her in stunned silence.
She stood there like a lovely European dream. Her long, flowing, blond hair was soft-lifted by the breeze, playing all around her head in delicate little tangles. Her deep blue, sea green eyes regarded him with surprised interest, as her smooth skin shimmered in the hot Paris sun like rose-colored pearl. For a few moments, he was unable to speak.
Finally, he slipped back into this new reality where anything was possible as long as she was a part of it.
"Wha-What may I do for you?" He said, barely able to control his emotions.
She went to speak, and her soft voice sounded cool, clear, and musical. Like the whisper of magic fairy chimes, tinkling softly in an open doorway on a pleasant spring day.
"May I have this chair?" She asked, coming up close and placing both her arms around it as if she could not bear to be parted from it. "You see, a friend of mine has just arrived, and she has no place to sit."
Then she stepped aside and allowed him to peer behind her, where he saw two attractive ladies sitting at a table. While a third one stood close by, gazing his way with a hopeful expression.
He could refuse her nothing. "Yes, you may have it most certainly. Just as long as you promise to come and sit with me after your friends leave."
She tilted her head a little to one side, gazed at him with eyes wet and glistening, then she made a sigh that he would never forget. Seeming to laugh and cry in the same breath.
"Oh, I cannot, for we are all leaving together, you see. Ah well, I shall just find one somewhere else I suppose." Then she went to turn away when he stopped her.
"Wait! I shall not hear of such a thing!" He proclaimed indignantly. "You shall surely take that chair for your friend. It is my gift to you. Enjoy."
Then she giggled and clapped her hands together gleefully like a young schoolgirl. "Oh goody! Thank you so much kind, sir. You truly are an angel."
"No Madam, you are the angel. I am but a wandering soul, waiting for the salvation only your sweet love can provide."
She looked him directly in the eyes and mouthed the words thank you. As she slid her tongue out seductively and let it touch the front of her lips. Then she smiled, waved a little, and after lifting up the chair, she set it down for her friend. Then they both sat down together, ordered some drinks and all of them started talking.
He tried to continue working on his journal. But each time he did, he would hear her laughter rise above that of the others, and it left his soul intoxicated. Or he would hear her talking and her voice became like a siren song. Seeming to sound higher, clearer, and more beautiful than all the rest. It almost caused him to lose control of his emotions. So that in a second or two he felt as if he might rise up and declare his love for her. Regardless of who was around or what happened afterwards.
Suddenly, he shot a quick glance here and there to see if anyone else had become aware of his growing infatuation with her. No one had. Then, he dropped his pen on the table, closed the journal, sat back in his chair, and lit up a cigarette. Resigning himself to defeat.
Several minutes later he put the cigarette out and began collecting up his journal, some notes, and other miscellaneous things he had brought with him. He placed everything within a small leather carrying case. Determined to come back in a day or two when hopefully, there would be no more distractions.
Then, just as he stood up to leave, her perfume instantly reached out, caught hold of him, and enfolded his senses within a cloud of bliss. He stood there helplessly with his eyes closed, seeming to breathe in a mystical flower of paradise right after the world was new-created.
He knew he couldn't leave like this, so he sat down again and quickly wrote a few lines about her. Then he casually dropped the paper in front of her as he passed. She opened it there and read quietly to herself.
"I am intrigued by the perfume you are wearing. I remember smelling that same fragrance before. It was at the Musée du Louvre. I was admiring that painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. You were still lingering in the air, as I arrived.
I had just missed you. I have not been able to forget you since.
You came down from the painting, and into my life. I long to inhale you more deeply. Here is my number, can we meet?"
She called later that night, and they met the very next morning. In the same café, at the same table. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.
On their first day sightseeing together, they walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carousel where he kissed her and declared his love. In that moment he told her later, he had outdone Napoleon himself and taken possession of Europe's greatest treasure.
Afterwards, while strolling through the Jardin des Tuileries, they held hands as they admired the paintings, the statues and immersed themselves in the garden's breath-taking beauty. It was there he found a flower unlike the others and named it after her.
"La Fleur d'Elise."
Later, they walked the Champs-Élysées and stopped along the way to browse the luxury shops, cafés and cinemas.
As evening approached, they visited the Eiffel Tower and the Grands Boulevard area in the 9th Arrondisement, where they enjoyed some of the Parisian nightlife. Then they went back to their little café and had dinner.
Afterwards, they ordered a bottle of wine and sat there discussing music, art, poetry and theater. Towards the end of the night, they kissed once more and exchanged love vows, both of them swearing never to think of anyone else while they were apart.
Theirs was a sweet, simple relationship in which they constantly discovered new things about each other to cherish. He told her that he loved the way she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly while speaking. She said that she enjoyed the gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. They thought it would never end.
But, that was more than a month ago, and a lot had changed since then. He mistook a friend for her lover and grew extremely jealous. Demanded to know who he was and why she was spending time with him. Angry words were exchanged and accusations made that she could not forgive. He had become unreasonable in his suspicions, so she broke it off.
Now she was gone. Had returned to London, her neighbor told him, barely an hour ago. He had just missed again her it seems. Yet her perfume was hanging heavy in the air as always. Then, the neighbor handed him a note from her.
He opened it up and read the final words which she had left for him.
"You sweet, silly man. You will find me...everywhere. Fondly, your Elise."
He nodded his head sadly and wiped away a few tears. Afterwards, he gave the rose to the neighbor, then placed the poem and the note in his pocket. Dejected but accepting, he walked out the front door and back down the street to the little café at which they had first met. Where he knew her fragrance would still be waiting to haunt him forever.
With the memory of a love that would never grow.
Absentmindedly
I didn’t even realise I was doing it. I was completely unaware until I went to reach for my glass of water. I had pulled my shirt up over my breasts and was slowly running two fingers ever so gently around my right nipple. Once I realised, I was loathe to take my fingers away. It was so light and subtle and there was a sweetness to it that I couldn’t resist. I licked my lips and decided I didn’t need that glass of water as much as I thought I did. I let my attention again go out of focus as I continued to tease my nipple into a lovely taut hardness. I eye up my glass of water again. Granted, to reach it, I’d have to remove my fingers, but something catches my eye. There’s ice in that water. I smile wickedly to myself and with a force of will, relinquish my playing to take that drink of water but to also plunge my hand into that water to retrieve one of the ice cubes.
I take the ice cube and continue my lazy circles. My body responds strongly to the ice and my nipple is quickly hard and solid. I flick at it with my other hand and that sweet pain tweaks through me. That is definitely not going to be sufficient to my needs this evening.
I lean over and grab one of the clothespegs sitting on the bookshelf by my chair. I snap it without a moment‘s hesitation and gasp sharply as it clips down hard onto my frozen nipple. That is definitely better. I pinch down on the clamp and twist it hard around to the right. I stamp a foot on the ground and throw my head back. I can feel myself beginning to get wet. I hear your voice in the back of my mind, ‘Are you ever not hungry, my dear slut?’
‘Seldom, Sir’ I answer aloud. ‘It seems a pity to waste a good ice cube, Sir, don‘t you think?’ I hear your chuckle in response.
‘Go ahead then, slave. I’d hate to interrupt your ministrations when I so enjoy watching you squirm.’ I blush brightly, but I’m not a fool. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to release the tension riding throughout my body.
I move the ice to my other nipple. At first, I just set it on top of my nipple as I watch it harden and rise of its own accord. I hold it there. Longer. Just a bit more, until I pull it away. ‘Clothespegs, whore, NOW!’ I snatched it rapidly and clamp it down hard.
‘Oh, thank you, Sir, you do know what I like.’
‘And why would I not know what my slave likes, craves? That’s pretty close to impertinenc, wouldn’t you say? As you know, impertinenc can be a very fine line. Are you sure that’s a line you want to walk this evening? Now twist your nipples. Harder! Further!’ Oh, I can feel my arousal growing. I moan with pleasure. I do so love the pain. ‘This time, I want you To clamp your fingers over the clothespegs pads and squeeze your nipples in between those teeth. Then, when I say, I want you to squeeze down and twist with all your might. Please me well and we just might please you this evening as well.’
I keep my eyes on my breasts as I start squeezing my nipples even harder between the clothespegs. Just as I think I’ve adjusted, I add a little more force. I try hard to keep my eyes open. I want to close my eyes and feel the desire build within my body and mind. ‘NOW!’ And I wrench hard with my fingers, twisting my nipples a full 180 while squashing the tips. ‘Oh, oh Sir, thank you. Thank you so much,’ I manage to gasp out.
‘Nice, slut. Now, release your fingers but leave the clothespegs on.’ I’m torn. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want the pain rippling through me to stop. I like the way the need is growing inside of me and the wetness that I can feel building. ‘Tut, tut, slut. Are you not following directions? That’s just not on. Let go, now.’ Regretfully, I do as he asks, but now I’m wondering if those few moments of added pleasure were worth whatever consequences may lay before me.
I see you’ve dropped your ice. How very remiss of you. Grab another one, whore.’ I reach over and grab another ice cube out of my glass. ‘Spread your legs for me, slut. Let me see that beautiful pussy of yours.’ I do as he asked, squirming in my discomfort of so exposing myself. ‘Now take that lovely little ice cube and rub it all around your hungry little clit. I want to see if go rock hard and turn that brilliant shade of maroon I so like to see.’ I swallow hard. This, I’m not used to. I take a deep breath and press the ice cube to my clit. Oh holy hell! My legs go wider. My hips rise up. Oh, this definitely was not what I was expecting, it hurt but in such a brilliantly wonderful way. I would very much like to get used to this, I think as I continue to tease myself. ‘Now, now, time to take it away, don’t you think, whore?’
‘No! No, Sir, just a bit longer, please, just a short bit. I’ll be ever so good if you let me.’ I can feel my hips wanting to start thrusting upward.
‘Again? I’m sure that was an order. You are in rare form this evening, but aren’t you? So very impertinent.’ I hear the sound, but before I can recognise it the leather single tail smacks across first one breast, then the other, torturing my nipples all the more. Four more times I hear the swish of the air before the contact with my breasts which causes me to arch my back and buck upwards with desire. I hear the swish again. I try to prepare myself, but I couldn’t have imagined what was coming my way. The snap of the leather and the movement of air before it slammed down on my ice hardened clit. A scream flew out of my mouth. Again, four more times I felt it snap across my most sensitive of places. I could feel my mind fog as desire took over my thoughts. It was so painful and yet I loved it. I was so glad to have been given this gift. It’s in that moment I realise I’ve not thanked him.
‘Thank you, please, thank you, Sir, I am so grateful, it feels so good, I am your slave, happy to do with as you will, thank you, sir.’ I realise I’m rambling but I can’t seem to string a full sentence together. I hear him chuckle lightly again.
‘Oh, slut, you have no idea. No idea how tempting you look with your legs spread wide, feet braced on the floor, and pussy open to all. Speaking of which, could you join me, please?’ I try to focus, to open my eyes but right now I can only seem to take the pleasure that is burning into my flesh. ‘You remember my good friend?’ I turn my eyes on the newcomer and recognise him immediately. He is a good friend of my Master. A shiver of embarrassment shoots through me And I try to pull my legs together. I feel his hands on my thighs. ‘I don’t think that’s going to play tonight. I’ve had quite enough of your disobedience tonight. Open them back up.’ I swallow hard as I do what he asks. I’ve no doubt his compatriot can see everything, including my utter wetness.
‘Now, I’d like you to show my friend here how you like to please yourself, slut.’ I start to shake my head and the inevitable whistle of leather through the air comes to me, but I buck back as I realise he has changed tools and the full width of the leather belt smacks across my cunt. I scream as the pain rifles through me. My hips start bucking. Oh no, no, no. If I come now, without asking, there really will be hell to pay. I tense my muscles trying to prevent them from thrusting upward, seeking release. I hear him clear his throat. I quickly drop the ice and fin my clit with my fingers. Fuck! It’s a triple whammy. My clit is still hard from the ice, stinging from the whip and burning from the belt. Then the cold hits me again. Stupidly, I’d not even thought about the fact that my fingers had been holding an ice cube up until a few moments ago. The minute I touch my clit, I moan loudly, and slide my ass towards the end of the chair, my hips raise up into the air and I increase the speed as I run my fingers back and forth across my nib.
‘Please, Sir, May I cum?’
I hear his wicked laugh. ’Oh no, slut, nothing so easy this evening, I think. Impertinence, you know. Now, I could now ask my friend to go get another piece of ice and rub it back over your clit to keep it nice and cool as I’m sure we don’t want you to overheat, BUT, I know just how hard it is going to be for you to pull those fingers of yours away to reach out and grab the ice and once again, cool down your clit, though it does seem the more we cool it, the hotter it gets. So, slave, stop playing with yourself, get another piece of ice and ice yourself down again please. I grit my teeth and am tempted to mutter under my breath, but catch myself just in time. The minute the ice makes contact with my sensitive organ, my ass flies up off the chair. I thrust, harder and harder in the air, each thrust causing the clothespegs on my nipples to smack and twist of their own accord sending even more pain shooting through me.
‘Please, now sir? May I come?’ There is a pained tone in my voice. I don’t honestly know if I can hold off.
’No, slut. Keep going.’ I hold the ice there, bucking up and down, thrusting up my hips, I can hear the clothespegs smacking against my flesh. I shake my head from side to side but that seems to only jiggle the clothespegs more, teasing me more. The speed of my hips increases. I want to pull the ice away, but then again, I don’t want to pull it away. ‘Shove the ice cube into your hungry fucking hole, slut.’ I don’t hesitate and shove it in. A low moan begins inside my chest and grows and grows until it forces itself out from behind my lips. ‘Play with your clit, now, dear.’ I do as he asks. I can feel tears forming at the corner of my eyes. I must be a spectacle but I can’t help myself. I need it. I want this. My fingers flick rapidly back and forth, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I want to scream out. My head just rocks back and forth, animal noises echo in my ears. Harder and harder I fuck the empty air while my fingers fiddle my clit which wants nothing more than release.
‘Please…..please….i want….please…May I? Please? Sir? May I come? May I show you? Please sir, please!’ I’m desperate now. It seems forever before I hear his voice.
‘What do you think, would you like to see her come? We can just leave her like this. Come back to her later? Should we let her? Do you think she has done enough to earn that treat?’ I am screaming inside my head. They can’t leave me like this! I must come! I manage to keep it in my mind as more moans fill the room.
The two men move forward, it’s only then that I really see them. I realise they are standing there, each with their cocks in their hands, stroking, pulling, teasing. They increase the speed. My body still writhes for release. I want those cocks. I don’t care where. I just want them. Now! ‘Fuck me, please fuck me, fill me up, both of you please,’ but they ignore my pleas. I keep fucking my clit but feeling a new hunger growing inside me. Now my body is just jerking in every direction begging to be filled.
’Come NOW bitch!’ I don’t have to be told twice, I release the last wall if put up to hold my orgasm back. I scream and scream as my whole body strains and shakes and pushes up in the air as my release shakes me down to my toes. I feel my wetness come spraying out, making my embarrassment complete. At that precise moment, both men step closer as they shoot their loads all over my body. It seems to keep coming. More and more. My mind swims away from me. ‘Rub it in,slave.’ I finally remove my finger from my clit as shockwaves still jerk me involuntarily. I place my hands on my stomach and start to rub their semen all over my stomach, and over my breasts. I slide my fingers through the still warm come and blend them together covering my entire torso. ‘Good girl. Now, lick your fingers and hands clean.’ I do that but as I do so, I imagine just what it would have felt like to have both men alternate turns, fucking my mouth. In the corner of my mind, I hear someone counting down. 3-2-1-Now! Each one of them grabs one of the clothespegs, twists hard and them takes them off my nipples. My body shoots back into the air as blood returns to my nipples and I scream as yet another orgasm shakes through what feels like every nerve in my body. I fall back and fall asleep.
Consequences
True. He didn’t say I could. But I certainly know he didn’t say I couldn’t. I mean, c’mon, it’s been at least three days since my last orgasm. What’s a girl to do? I waiver for just a moment. Consequences. The unwelcome word brushes against my mind. I smirk and then a broad smile breaks across my face.
I lick my lips as my hunger rises. I open my knees and spread my legs wide. This one, this one I’m going to enjoy. As soon as the decision was made in my mind, I could feel my wetness start to grow. I take one finger and dip it into my hungry cunt, and let it linger for the briefest of moments before pulling it back out again. I raise my finger up to my nose and breathe in deeply. The smell of myself only serves to increase my hunger. I pop my finger into my mouth and slowly suck down the length of it as I then lick my wetness away.
I slip my finger down to my cunt and gently trace around my lips, feeling the wetness increase. My other hand sneaks inside the side of my basketball jersey and find my nipple there. Slowly, I flick my nipple with my finger and feel it begin to harden. I grab my nipple between my finger and thumb. I pinch down hard and twist my nipple while at the same time, shoving my finger into my cunt. I moan as my arousal spikes. That’s just what I like. Some pain to help bring the pleasure into focus.
I slide another finger in and start pumping. I can feel my desire mounting. My body is so hungry. I brace my heels against the footstool as my hips raise up out of the chair. I hear a voice inside my head, ‘you like that don’t you? You love fucking your own pussy. To sit there and fuck the air. What a hungry little slut you are.’
I answer into the empty room, ‘yes, I do, I know exactly how I like it. Just like that,’ I say as I pull my fingers out of my cunt and slap down hard on my pussy. A moan of pure pleasure sneaks out of me. ‘More,’ I beg. Again my hand rises into the air and cuts through the air as it slaps down hard. ‘Yes, please, again,’ I beg myself. I raise my hand up into the air and prepare to feel it come lashing down when all the sudden a quiet, tinny ping echoes around the room. I grit my teeth and mutter under my breath. Buzzing through my brain, trying to bombard its way through my pleasure is only one thought. Please don’t let it be him.
I glance over at my phone. The message is crystal clear. ‘What are you doing?’ At the back of my head, a voice is screeching at me. No, no, no, no, NO! I let go of my nipple and try to slow my rampant breathing. I close my eyes and try to focus, to think clearly. After all, he doesn’t know anything. He can’t see me. My heart rate slows and I wipe my finger on my leg and pick up my phone.
‘Ummmmmm, nothing?’ I respond. Oh yeah, that was smooth. I can almost hear his voice through the screen. He might not know, but with something as vague as that, he will definitely know something. When will my brain ever learn that you don’t have to put in a text exactly what your mouth might say in the same situation.
Another ping. ‘That surprises me. Are you sure you’re not up to anything? After all, it has been three looooong days. Has it not? So, you wouldn’t be, say, fingering yourself? Or maybe have clothespegs clamped to your nipples?’ I glance to the clothespegs on the shelf next to me. ‘How unlike my very hungry slave. I would have thought you’d be doing at least playing with your clit, but if you’re telling me that you’re doing nothing, then surely that must be precisely what you are doing. Is that not correct, slave?’
I grit my teeth. Fuck! I sigh and pick up my phone. My fingers fly across the keys. ‘Okay, maybe not nothing. Maybe, just maybe, I had a couple of fingers shoved in deep as I was preparing to clamp my nipples. But! I had only just started, and you know, you didn’t tell me that I couldn’t and I know you’ve been busy and so much on your plate and I didn’t want to bother you to ask if I could. I thought it’d be better if I took things into my own hands and just let you get on with it. Ummmm, Sir?’ I roll my eyes at myself.
’Whose cunt is that? I don’t believe that is yours. As a matter of fact, I happen to know it is mine and not yours. You wouldn’t be playing with something of mine without permission, would you? Because, you know, that would just be foolish. Now, I ask you again, what are you doing?’
Crap. This is not going to be good. I type in, I was playing with your cunt, Sir. I shake my head at myself. You knew. Of course I knew. I should have asked, but I didn’t and now, there were going to be consequences.
Tell me, slut, do you remember early in our acquaintance when you were at my home? We all decided to journey to a friend‘s house for a gathering of fun? We made our way to one of the rooms and I reminded you that you were mine. I told you to look around the room and name anything at all that you could see. Anything that you named, I could use as an implement to bring pleasure or indeed, punishment. Do you remember what I did with the stapler you’d selected. You never looked at staplers the same way again, I’d wager. So, slut, look around the room and tell me what you can see.
I look around the small room. ’Well, Sir, there’s the television, my bookcase full of books, my exercise bike, my wet suit, my cricket bat, my blanket, a pillow, and my mug. That’s it.’ I keep my eyes on the three little dots at the bottom of the screen. I hold my breath, but I suspect I know what’s coming.
‘Whore. You’re going to need to stand up.’ I stand up. ‘Now, I know, that as you were playing with my cunt, you will be pretty soaking wet. So, I need you to pick up that cricket bat, and I want you to insert the handle of that bat into that wet cunt.’ I reach over and grab the cricket bat. I spread my legs and slide the handle up inside of me. My legs uncomfortably bowed out from the width of the blade. I feel pulled apart and uncomfortable, but it still feels good. I feel the urge to start pushing the bat deeper. Before I get into any more trouble, I grab my phone, ‘It’s in, Sir’.
’Good girl. Now, what I want you to do is put the tip of the bat to the ground. Once the tip is resting on the ground, I want you to lower yourself down deeper on the handle to the point where your legs are spread wide, the handle is deep inside of you, and it is merely this stance which keeps the bat standing up. I rest the bat as instructed and I begin to slowly lower myself down the length of the handle. My feet are on tiptoes but my body gives me away. I can feel the wetness beginning to encase the handle. ’Now, bitch, don’t move. I know you will want to grind, you will want to ride that handle and pump up and down on it until you cum. I’m not sure I’ll let you do that. It depends on just how good you are now. So, for the next five minutes, I want you to stay in that position. No sliding up and down, no clamping your muscles down, nothing other than feeling violated by the bat. Because that’s what you did. You violated what belongs to me.
I respond back, ‘yes, Sir’. I know this is going to be hard. The first thing to try to give in is that my body wants to slide up and down the length of the handle. I just want to bury it deeper. I want to shove it all the way in, to feel it slam into the back of me. Part of me wonders if it would be more like a cock or would it feel more like being fisted. I don’t really care which. I just want to cum. I bite back the urge and look at the clock. Are you kidding me? Not even a minute has gone by. Okay, this may be a lot harder than I thought. I try to take deep breaths but with each breath, I can feel the bat inside me. Oh hell. Next my muscles start trying to clench. If my legs aren’t going to drive the bay in, then my muscles seem convinced that they are going to suck them in deeper. I clamp my teeth down and try to get my muscles to hold on tight but not to clench and unclench. I take a side glance at the clock. Two minutes down. I don’t even realise it until I catch my reflection in the television screen. My hips are rolling and causing the bay to move around in a circular motion inside of me. I groan as I try to make my hips stop. In the end, I have to place My hands on my hips to get them to stop. What is the stupid time? Had that clock stopped? There’s no way that’s only three minutes. I can now feel my wetness running down the shaft of the handle. The whole room smells of me.
I grab my phone. Just that small motion had me trying to pump and grind with the bat Inside me. ’Please, Sir, I’m sorry. I really am, but I desperately need to fuck this bat. my whole body wants it. To shove it deep inside of me, to slide up and down feeling the handle sliding in deeper and then pulling back out. I want to fuck fast and hard and make myself scream. Please, Sir, May I?’
‘I count that as only three and a half minutes, slut. What I need you to do right now is take a selfie. I want to see a picture of you fucking your cricket bat. I want to see that desire in your face, the hunger in every taught muscle in your body. I want you to know it’s up to me when you cum, when you feel release, or indeed if you do at all.’
This then is the punishment. It was all working up to this moment. I can’t. I really really can‘t. My body screams at me that I damn well better because it is not going to be denied because of my stupid pride. The internal debate rages inside of me. It’s one thing for him to see me like this, another for him to have a permanent reminder of my desperation. As I feel my need rise, I snatch my phone and snap the picture and send it on its way.
‘What a good little whore. Remember, you’re the one who wanted to cum. Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before doing so without asking me. Now, we’re nearly done here, but not quite. You may now pump and grind and slam your pussy on that handle as much as you like, but you will record the sound as you do so. I want you to hear every sound of your hunger.’
Bastard! Thank goodness he’s only on the phone, but really, I don’t think I could hold out any longer anyway. I hit the record button on my phone and instantly I start sliding up and down. A groan escapes me. That is so deep. So fucking deep and so hard. Feel it there. Feel my thighs burn as they squat up and down taking the handle in deeper. Faster I slide up and down. It feels so good. So damn good. My pace becomes frenzied as my hips get in on the action. I hear the sound of the wetness squelching, the slight pop of the suction each time I drive myself up and then down. Oh my cunt. It’s so full and so wet.i pump don harder and faster. ’C’mon bitch, f it, fuck it you dirty little whore. You like doing that don’t you. You’re loving this fucking bat in your pussy. Keep going. Slam it deep. Oooooh!!! Fuck me! Oh! Yes! Yes please! Fuck me! I beg you! Fuck it hard. Slide that dirty little cunt all the way down until you feel like that handles going to pop out through your mouth you dirty, hungry, horny, desperate little whore! A scream tears out of my throat as my orgasm rocks through me. It goes on and on. Oh thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you. Oh yes. Yes. Thank you. Gradually, my breathing slows, my body stops thrashing, I fall back across the footstool and gently, oh so gently, pull the cricket bat out of my cunt. I close my eyes and fall back.
I don’t know how much time has passed when my eyes next open. I reach for my phone. I know what I need to do. I listen to the sound recording. I had no idea. None at all that all of those things weren’t running through my head. I was telling them out at myself. This is going to be more mortifying than I thought. First the picture, and now this. I shake my head and hit send. I sit there, still recovering when an answering ping catches my attention a few minutes later. I look down at the screen.
‘Whose cunt it that?’ I respond back with a single word.
Yours.
Lazy days
I look up and a smile spreads across my face. ‘Hey’. With that, my smile gets a little bit wider. I can’t help it, I can feel that desire brewing inside of me. Some days, it’s just up to you to make the most of it.
He’s busy, but that’s okay. I don’t mind. I walk barefoot across the room. The sounds of his computer keys muffling any other sound. I lean down and lightly kiss his neck, I move a little lower, and press my lips to his throat. I can feel him swallow. He tries to give me that look. Not today. I move around to the other side of his neck and leave a trail of kisses as I then take his ear, lightly, teasingly in between my teeth. I tug ever so gently. I flick my tongue over his ear lobe. I look down at his lap and can tell by the results there that my attention is not entirely unwelcome.
I slide down to the floor and climb under his desk. I push his chair that slightest bit away and nudge my head up between his legs. I raise my eyes and smile again. I rub my face against the growing lump of his cock under his trousers. I close my eyes and I remember just how nice that cock feels sliding into my mouth. I can feel myself start to salivate.
I reach my arms up and run my hands up his chest, feeling him just underneath the material of his shirt causes my heart speed up. I start with the top button, and undo it deftly. Then the next button. Oops, did my hand accidentally glide over your crotch. I can feel my hunger start to grow. I shake my head and refocus my thoughts. My hands are a little less certain as I undo the next button. Slowly, so slowly, I undo each one in turn. I push his chair a little further away from his desk. I can still hear his typing, but I imagine that it has slowed a bit.
I rest my elbows on his thighs and slide my hands up his chest and push His shirt down his shoulders. His arms are slightly restricted, but I don’t doubt that if he wanted to stop me, he would. I start at the base of his throat and slowly leave a trail of light kisses down his chest. My mouth moves to the side, seeking out his nipple. I hold it in place tenderly between my teeth as I start to flick my tongue back and forth and I am rewarded by the hardening I can feel in my mouth. I can’t help myself. I bite down hard and I start lashing his nipple with my tongue, then biting down that little bit more and sucking it into my mouth. I smile as I pull back. His typing is most assuredly going more slowly than before. I rain a small shower of kisses across his chest as I make my way to his other nipple. This time, I’m not so kind. I grab his nipple tightly between my teeth and twist. I feel his body jerk momentarily, before the clacking of the keys begins again. I run my tongue around and around his nipple. Flicking first hard then light. I chuckle while I still hold it there. I bite down again and then release as I begin to move down his chest moving lower and lower.
As I reach his waistband, I glide my tongue just along the top of his trousers. I lower my head. First, I run my right cheek up the length of him and then run my left cheek down the other side. I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over His trousers, feeling his cock jump at the feel of my mouth.
I reach up and undo the button on his trousers. Then I grip the zipper and take all the time in the world to slowly pull it down tooth by tooth. I can see his cock there, peeking out of the top of his pants. I feel my hunger kick into overdrive. I slide my hands down his hips, trying to get access. I glance up. He’s watching me, Almost challenging me. I rise up just slightly and take the knob, just barely visible, and take it in my mouth. My nose nudges away the waistband. I increase the suction as I pull and tug at him. Wanting more. I lap at him. Tongue slathering what little I can see. Tasting him is always so damn good. I reach between his legs and start to massage his balls between my fingers. A catch a small sound coming from his mouth. Was that a groan? A curse? I can’t be certain, but his feet plant down hard as he lifts his hips from the chair. Without missing a beat, I grab the waistbands and shuck them down his legs.
I dip my head and take his balls into my mouth. I pull back gently, feeling them stretch and then relieving the pressure as I massage his balls around my mouth. With my mouth full, I pause for the slightest of moments as I take a deep breath. Smelling him, his arousal, his sexuality. It makes my head hum. I reach up with my hand and grasp the shaft of his cock, letting my hand increase its pressure along the back of his cock. Regretfull, I remove my mouth from his balls and finally get to take the full length of his rock hard cock into my mouth. This time, I’m pretty sure the sound came from my lips, not his.
I slide my head all the way down, feeling it hit the back of my throat. Painstakingly slowly, I pull my mouth up and down on him all the while keeping his balls in my hand, manipulating and Massaging them almost absently. As my head slides up his cock again, I scrape my teeth along the back of his cock. I hear a hand slam down on the table and can’t help but smile, but I don’t let my suction decrease. Faster and faster, my head bobs up and down over his lap. I feel a hand grab my hair and force his cock deeper than I thought I could take it. That’s right. Use your fuckhole, please, Sir. I wrap my tongue around the shaft as my head pulls its way back up, only to feel you slam your cock hard into my throat. I can’t help it. A frenzy takes me over. I clamp down and use all the suction I can muster as my tongue flies all over your cock. It so thick and solid and tastes so good. Oh the taste of your pre-cum, just sets me flying. Up and down at breakneck speed. I suck you in. Lash you with my tongue and then pull almost completely back, only to dodge back down again. Hungry for more. The taste, the smell, the pleasure mounting in me as well as in you. My actions become frenzied. I can feel my own wetness soaking through my pants but all I can really focus on is just how much I love having your cock in my mouth. I bob down on one side to then only pull back against the other side. I feel your muscles start to tense. I hear that mutter under your breath. i can tell you’re close and all that does it ratchet my desire up. move my mouth all around your cock, my mouth going one while while my tongue wraps and latches and releases. Not long now. I slow down to try to savour you, but you’re having none of it. You put both hands in my hair and starting mercilessly fucking my mouth. I try my best to keep up but am not always successful. Before I realise, your cum shoots down the back of my throat and I swallow as quickly as I can. I feel your legs unclench and slowly let your spent cock slide back out of my mouth.
I crawl out from under the desk. I look in your direction, walk across the room the residual taste of you dominating all of my thoughts.
I sit up on the sofa, pick up my book and proceed to read. I like lazy days.
When not serving is serving
I know. My own doing. I just had to let my mouth keep running after a day that had not gone to plan. And now? Silence. The absence of anything clanging more loudly than cymbals in my ears. I sigh and shake my head at myself. I mean, really, what did I expect?
I stand up, clear my throat lightly, hoping he will see me. Or choose to see me. ‘How did I get so busy?‘ he says. Even those words cause hope to rise within my heart. I daren‘t say a word. I don’t want to let my guilt and my mouth to get in between us again.
I slowly reach down and grab the bottom of my hoodie and pull it up and over my head. I drop it to the floor beside me. The quiet is so complete that I can hear it hit the floor. I lick my lips, and reach down again to my waist. I grab the hem of my t-shirt and lift it up and over my head and drop it on top of my hoodie. I feel exposed. He knows this is one of the things I find harder than any other. To simply bare myself with no other distraction, with all eyes on me.
I take a deep breath, and grab the waistband of my shorts. I slide them down my legs and step out of them. I force my arms to stay still, to not come up and cover myself. I can feel the muscles in my arms twitching want to move, but I use all my will not to let them.
‘May I come to you, Sir? May I come sit by your side?’ He tells me that I may. I lower down to all fours, and I make my way towards him. I can feel the weight of my breasts as they swing back and forth. So awkward. I slam down my mind on those thoughts. All of this is self imposed. He may or may not be disappointed in me, but I am. I doubted him. One of the few people that I know I can trust absolutely and I doubted I was worth anything to him.
He is busy writing. It’s been a productive day for him. I lean down, kiss each of his feet, then kneel down, and sit back on my heels. I lower my eyes, and I wait. I still feel the absence of him. I want to babble, to explain myself, to defend myself, but I don’t. I don’t want to disrupt him when the writing is going well.
I breathe deeply and steady myself. The mantra in my head begins, ‘waiting IS serving, waiting IS serving’. I know I’m trying to convince myself. Being still is an absolute weakness of mine. I cannot do it well. For him, I’ll try. I feel an excuse to talk to him welling up inside of me. I shake it off with a shake of my head. Deep breath. Again. ‘Waiting is serving. Waiting is serving.’ He has told me this before, but I am not great at passive serving. Want me to entertain your best friend? I’m in. Wish me to please your wife. I’m there for you. Serve someone to show others what service can look like? Happily all day long. But sit? Be quiet? Be still? Wait? Every part of me rails against it. I cannot stand it I find it harder than many other things he may have asked of me in the past, and he hasn’t even asked this of me. I have.
How long has passed? I don’t know. Every moment feels as if it’s stretched thin until every last second is wrung from it. My knees are starting to ache. Still, I persist. ‘Waiting is serving. Waiting is serving.’ It doesn’t feel so angry this time. It feels quieter in my mind as it slowly glides through. I feel calmer.
Quietly, the words sneak out of my mouth. ‘Sir, my knees are sore, May I change my position, please?’ From far away, I hear you tell me I may. I feel wrapped in cotton. Words sliding through to me. I shift and merely sit by your feet. Quieter now, it floats through my mind, ‘waiting is serving, waiting is serving.’
I shake my head. How much time has gone by? I’ve no idea. He works still. A smile quirks at the corner of my lips. I feel I’m pleasing him by not disrupting. Still, I have a small request. Surely, he won’t mind a small request? ‘Sir, May I please lean my head against your knee? The physical touch will help reassure me.’ I don’t think he realises how much I felt I might have lost him, pushed him away. He tells me I may.
A soft satisfied sigh escapes my lips as I lean my head against his leg. I close my eyes. I can feel the smile stretching across my lips. This feels so good, so right. The thought sneaks through, ‘waiting is serving’. I wait. I shut out all else. I listen for his breath. I breath deeply in hopes of taking in the smell of him and remembering. From time to time, I feel a slight pressure on my head as his hand absently comes down to rest upon me. Each time, I smile again. To feel that touch, that acknowledgement of what I am offering him. The knowledge that he knows I’m there.
My eyes start drifting shut and each time, it’s longer and longer before they open again. I whisper quietly, my voice has gone hoarse. ’Sir, I am very tired. I will need to sleep soon.’
‘Of course,’ he says. He continues to work, but I feel the back of his fingers brush lightly against my cheek. He is pleased, I think. With that thought, I curl up on the floor next to his feet. I tuck my arm under my head and I promptly fall off to sleep.
He moves. I uncurl my body, and stretch. I know that look in his eyes. He is pleased. I’ve done well, but more than that, I’ve done well which has enabled him to do the work he needed to do. I lean down, and place a single kiss on each foot and then raise my head and smile at him. ‘Good morning, Sir.’ He smiles back.
It would seem that waiting is serving.
Deputy Duty
The rough road was, understandably, rough on an already dying car. The electric on the damn thing gives out every now and then, when and where it wants to just up and get gone.
"Oh, yeah, nice, right when it really starts pouring." I muttered to myself as a car with brilliantly irritatingly glaringly outright garish headlights pulled out behind me. This weather? My car? My general driving? Cooked. Absolutely cooked. What luck it would have been if those blinding headlights were in front of me - my own personal guiding cop lighthouses.
And predictably, all of a sudden flashing red and blue joined the offensive fluorescent white light.
"Yeah, yeah, let's hope I don't die just pulling over. Don't make me get out in this weather. I'm wearing white, and it's after Labor Day." Bumping awkwardly up and down in my beater for some reason, I flip my hazards on and let myself slowly, slowly, attempt to roll to a gentle stop on the side of the road.
"Oh, okay." I respond to feeling my right side wheels slip off the pavement, high-pointing my car. "I'm also going to have to look like I shouldn't have a driver's license. Cool. Okay." I pop my beater baby in park, knowing she'd stay in place regardless of gear, 'position we were in.
The policeman takes forever to actually exit his vehicle. I wonder if the rain makes it harder to read my dirty ass license plate. I don't even know why I was pulled over in the first place. As soon as that train of thought enters my mind, the policeman exits his vehicle holding a 'matches-the-headlights' flashlight in his left hand and an umbrella in his right.
I lower my window as he approaches my driver side, ready to play polite society damsel in distress.
"Good evening, miss, do you have any idea why I pulled you over tonight? If you do not, I'd really like to tell you." Putting the flashlight to the side, I was finally able to focus on his appearance.
Oh, God. I wanna play damsel in mistress - no ring! Girlfriend?
I couldn't help the thoughts entering my mind as I took in the familiar swank, stature, gentle suave attitude, and built chest with arms to match. Devastating. Just devastatingly, paralysis-inducing beauty.
"No, miss, I do not; I'd really like you to tell me why, too." I can't help but spit out as my face flushes red, noticing the officer's face had been a bit red from the jump. Cat and mouse from the start!? How!?
The officer looked stunned and shocked. Uh, not the intended reaction. Oh, God, I said miss.
"Miss, please step out of the car and walk in a straight line." The officer said with a stern face, and a deep, flat voice. I misjudged. Now I'm in deep shit. Okay, I'm not inebriated in any way, shape, or form.
I open my door, and step out. Immediately, the officer starts towards me and I flinch instinctively, falling back into my car - nearly, as some strong, still familiar, I swear, arms catch me. Well, they catch me, but we both fall back against the car. Stunned, I realize the officer was going to hold his umbrella above me as I did the walk. I am not making myself look good here at all, and I cannot stop. I'm not really wrong often, not on this.
As our eyes meet - my upper chest area is against his chest area. Don't say anything, let him, he's an officer. Oh, God, what if he can't?
He immediately steps back.
"I apologize - I was going to keep you dry during the walk. Your... shirt is see through. I pulled you over because your left rear break light is out, it looks like you have two flat tires, and now I'm gonna need a breathalyze real quick, alright? It's the least invasive way." Reaching into his back pocket, he produces a breathalyzer.
Oh, nice. He had it handy. I drive so well.
I know how this goes, and I blow hard, and long, taking care my face is still pretty during. I can't hold it.
"So, Officer Attractive, it's not also Officer Butch?"
He stares at the sober results, and then slowly up at me.
"How?"
"Oh, honey, I'd know my kind of man anywhere."
"To be clear - what kind of man is that?"
"The one whose name usually ain't Butch, but it gets his attention the same way a dog whistle does a do."
"..."
"...The one that doesn't write me a ticket?"
He seems stunned.
"Miss, I wasn't going to write you a ticket. I was going to see if you needed a ride home. I was going to inform you your vehicle is genuinely unsafe to operate. It would be a public safety concern if I let you get home in your car."
"Oh, what the fuck, no more doublespeak flirting - you dyke or no? If not, I'm really not interested, Mr. Miss Officer Attractive." I fully break the ice and the lesbian fourth wall. Oh, my God. They're almost all like this because that's just being respectful.
"Oh, God, yeah, no, yes, I'm Butch, I'm Dyke, I just - how? Really?" He is truly stunned. How cute.
"Swagger, honey." I smile warmly at him. He needs to be made aware, he must be new - he's going to get just eaten up if he don't wisen up.
"Swagger is helping?" He is even more stunned.
"...Yeah, we'll go with that." Chivalry, dumbass, yeah. Swagger, game, play, whatever, come chase this tail, holy shit how much easier can I make it? "So... I'm not leaving my car. I'm a lady? I'm not like, a car lesbian? How long-"
"-about thirty minutes, then when my two queer handymen show up, it will take them about thirty minutes." He interrupts, sliding his arm gently, slowly, waiting every inch for a sign of 'I want this', making me want him more, oh my God, yes, someone who knows what good foreplay is! Wow! And I just realized he's way out of my league! Cool! How do I even go about this?
Oh, honey, he showed me how to go about all of that.
What a woman!
How things change in a minute
I stand up and sigh. I walk slowly across the landing to the bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, I nearly collapse to my knees. My head follows down to the floor. It has been one of those days. One of those days when I just seemed to keep taking blows. As I close my eyes I feel it. Slowly sliding over my body is that shield of safety, of protection. I am engulfed and cocooned by you. There is no need to be anyone or anything. I can just breathe in, then breathe out. This minute, set aside for you, but today feels more for me than for you as you give me the freedom to not be. I know your protection is around me. I need not worry about anything. I am in your hands and I have no doubt that you will keep me safe. As my body settles, my mind follows, it lets go of all the pain, stress and loss of the last 12 hours. It all seeps out of me and I am instead filled with your presence. I sense you there above me. Knowing I am in the periphery of your eye, should I have need of you. Time goes. I don’t notice. Eventually, my eyes reopen. I quietly whisper ‘thank you, sir’ into the air. I rise up, crawl into bed and sleep comes quickly.
When he fucked me, I saw God.
My mood is
indescribable.
A downspout of
misguided
rain freezing
overnight.
A complicated
mountain fold,
its peak
sheltered
by sensitivity
and fog.
Its hardened
crust evaporating
into
sadness.
My desolation
comforted
by his imagery
and love.
Pain is
romanticized
inside
my mind.
Literary connections
found
in pulsating
isolation.
Love me
back.
I am
disconnected
from the norm.
Relieving cuts
pour
blood onto
canvas.
Empty.
I offer
definition
unintelligibly through
matte abstraction.
I am
complexly
overwhelmed by
simple movement.
My mascara
smears like—
A whore.
My legs
spread
wide,
knees bent,
my aged hips
crack with
temporary
satiation.
Heavy
sighs are
my aphrodisiac
into
oblivion.
The warmth
of
the sun
on my face
is my
mother.
Nature
hugs me
with
its splintered
bark.
Gasping
with emotion,
the thought
of him
hurts.
Moved
to tears
when
Mozart's plays
tangible.
A grin
too wide and
too toothy
silently churns.
My stomach hurts
to the tone of
laughing
like a clown.
Names
spelled wrong
hang on
the air
make
me dizzy.
Contradicting
comfort found
in
metaphors
and equation
abandon me
ad infinitum.
Abhorrent
shock at
mass blindness
ruminates.
Raw.
Despair drops
into buckets
of mud
in my chest
when
I think
of you.
Despondency
covers
my shoulders,
my grandmother's
shawl,
when
the chill
of
loneliness comes.
Inner epiphanies
debate
over desire
and
reality.
I stand
still and
frozen in
my existential
existence.
I know
my bravery
exists
but I am
fucked
between
folded linen.
Stale.
And
the closet
is closed.
And my
heart
drops.
There is
no point
anymore.
I am sad
and
I am
grieving
indefinitely.
You are gone.
It is dark
When it rains, it pours
I roll my eyes to the sky. You have got to be kidding me. I rise from my desk and grab my bag as I head to the loo. Quickly, I strip out of my trousers and pants and grab yet another pair of pants out of my bag. What did I expect? After a week full of play, my clit and cunt are still swollen and in a constant state of arousal. I am constantly soaking wet.
All day long I could feel it, my arousal slowly dripping out of my cunt. As another colleague goes past, I sincerely hope they can’t smell me, because I certainly can. How many hours until I can go home? Touch myself?
Finally, I walk in my front door and just drop my things on the floor. I head upstairs to strip out of my clothes. I slide on my running shorts and a comfy old hoodie. I tell myself, I won’t touch myself today. I need time for my body to recuperate.
I turn on the ice hockey, but as I watch, I hear it. Thrum. I push my attention back to the telly. Thrum. I clench my thighs together. I try to think about something else. Thrum. Who am I kidding. I can feel my cunt muscles clenching, my arousal growing, the telltale wetness running down my thigh.
Just a light touch I tell myself. I let my finger slide up the leg of my shorts, I dip my finger into the juices as it glides up and over my clit. My legs instantly open up. I feel my hips already pushing up from the chair. No! I’m not touching myself today. I’m recuperating. If that’s the case, why has my hand not pulled away? I close my eyes and let my head fall back.
Oh yes, Sir. You like it when my pussy is wet and throbbing. Ready for you to use as you like. I imagine your smile, well, more a smirk as I continue to stroke myself. You knew my resolve would crumble. I try so hard, I focus all my attention and with all the will I can muster, I pull my fingers away.
I look down at my fingers and take them in my mouth. Oh I taste good. I slide my fingers in and out of my mouth suck every drop of wetness off of them. Pussy. I haven’t eaten pussy in far too long. Could I do that for you, Sir. Grace maybe?
As I shift position, I feel my rock hard nipples rub against my hoodie. My breath catches. So sensitive. So ripe. I lean over and open the drawer on the coffee table and pull out two clothespegs. I lift up my hoodie and grab my nipple between my fingers. I pull and twist viciously. My hips fly out of my chair and a hiss escapes my mouth, ‘Yes, oh yes.’ The pain is perfect. I push down harder on the clamp of the clothespeg and pull and twist again. ‘More!’ I demand. Like my demands would ever get me anywhere. I hear your voice in my head. ‘Just for that whore, unclamp your nipple.’
‘No, please, I’ll be good. It feels so good. I promise. I‘m sorry, Sir, so so sorry’. My eyes plead. You raise your eyebrow at me. I sigh heavily and bring my hand down to release the clothespeg. It hasn’t been on there long enough to have that rush of pain and pleasure when blood flows back into the nipple. Instead, I only feel the absence of the peg. I wait. My breathing slows. I know better than to ask, this as much as the removal of the peg is my punishment. My body twitches in restraint.
’Well, whore, do you think you can remember who serves and who is being served?’ I nod my head. ‘Well?’
‘Yes, Sir, I am here to serve you, to please you,’ I try to let some of my indignation go. I can see your smile and with a jerk of your head, I grab for the clothespeg again. I pinch hard on my nipple and pull it and then with practiced skill, I twist viciously. As a shudder runs through my body and a ‘yes’ comes through my lips, I clamp the clothespeg back on my nipple. The pain just triggers my wetness again and my thoughts start to go hazy at the edges.
Without missing a beat, I lift my other breast to my mouth and suck the nipple into my mouth. I flick my tongue across it and feel the hardness solidifying. I bite down on my nipple and yelp as my teeth clench together. I gradually release the pressure and drop my breast from my mouth. I snatch at my nipple and squeeze it between my fingers. I pull it away from my body, stretching my breast out. Just when I don’t think it will pull any further, I twist and it gives a bit more. I snap the second clothespeg in place. I fall down on my knees. I adore the pain that pushes me further and further. I want it all.
I spread my legs apart and sit back on my heels. I stay like that for a moment, trying to slow my beating heart. I feel my arm start to move towards my pussy. I can’t not touch myself at this point. I know I need to cum. I need to push and push until I want to scream for anyone to hear. What do I care? As long as I get to cum, I couldn’t care less.
I squeeze my arms together so that my breasts are trapped between them. That way, every stroke, every thrust will cause my breasts to jiggle sending little shockwaves through my body. I slide my finger over my clit and let it stay there for a few moments, stroking gently, circling, as my pelvis lifts towards my finger, my breasts shake. So good .
I dip my finger into my cunt finally, warm, wet, enticing. I start slowly, sliding one finger in and out. Teasing at first, and then a bit harder, a bit faster. My head falls back. I slide a second finger in beside the first. Mmmmm. My hips thrust. I can hear the squelching of my wetness. I should be embarrassed, but I’m beyond caring. I slam my fingers in deeper. Harder. My breathing echoes in my ears. My nipples can feel the pull as the clothespegs bounce in time to the rhythm of my body. Now a third. You dirty, little whore. What a cunt. And you’re still not satisfied are you? You want more. The words scroll through my mind, as I reach down and shove my fourth finger in. A groan escapes me as I feel so full. My hips fly into the air, my head falls back, i can hear the sound of the clothespegs as they bump into one another. Harder whore, harder. I slam in as hard as I can and as fast as I can. I shake my head as I feel my orgasm mounting, pushing outward, I can feel my muscles tense and I scream as my orgasm hits, again and again. I can feel the water gushing out of me onto the floor. I fall forward and scream again as my nipples and clothespegs brush against the floor. I drag myself back upright. I shut my
eyes and bite down hard on my bottom lip. I raise my hands to each of my nipples. At the same time, I wrench both clothespegs from my nipples. As feeling returns another orgasm shoots through me. I let this one play out and slowly fade away. Every inch of my body feels like it’s throbbing. I lean forward my hands on the floor. I place my head on top of my hands. I whisper, ‘thank you, Sir.’ I hope you will be well pleased.
When the regular fantasies fail
I couldn’t help myself. I was so tired and couldn’t sleep. I’d been playing with myself for the better part of an hour but I just kept coming up to the edge. Having you tie me down for others to use, having people all around me, masturbating over me. None of it worked. I just couldn’t get myself there. I knew what the problem was. I was owned by you and without your permission, I wasn’t going to be able to come. But how? I knew you’d not been on.
The pleasure and the pain at having abused my clit for so long was wearing thin, and I wasn’t sure release would come even if you did. I went ahead and asked. How stupid was that? Once I’d asked, I knew I’d doomed myself. There was no way my body or my mind were going to let me come without your okay. I kicked, I bit through my lip stifling my groans, I was drenched in sweat. You weren’t there. I couldn’t go on but I likewise couldn’t pull my hand away from your clit.
I was aroused by thinking of you dominating me, owning me, and without that permission, I couldn’t. Or my body wouldn’t? Or my mind wouldn’t? I don’t know all I know was I just kept going up to the edge, and the thought of your displeasure would pull me back, no not your displeasure- more knowing that I was denying you the pleasure of having me come for you, being able to take me up to that edge and hold over me that control, that ownership. It’s your cunt, your clit. How dare I try to take that away from you. I couldn’t do that. I had to wait but each minute I became more and more incoherent. More desperate.
I wanted you to just say yes. Three little letters. I wanted to hear it. I wanted whatever I did to be yours. By your hand and of your will. Still the pleasure swelled as my clit got more sore. I can only beg for your mercy. As time creeps by and my body wants to betray you, I tell myself, if you’re not there by half past, then surely you won’t mind. You’d understand. You’d let me. I shake my head. I know better. Had I just done it. It would have been fine. But I asked. The minute I did that, it was in your hands and not mine. I was whimpering out my pleas. I so wanted to give my denial and my orgasm to you. To show how much I am your dirty little slut, how I was such a low little cunt that I couldn’t even come without your say so - and yet, I was so greedy, so hungry, I couldn’t take my fingers away.
I begged over and over again. I just wanted to be filled up, to have a big thick cock pumping into my pussy, taking it, using it, pumping in and out, deeper, harder and faster, until my thoughts just disappeared out of my head. To have that cock taken out as I scream for it to go back in. To have that cock shoved between my lips as another of your holes is filled, licking clean my own juices. I clamp down with my throat and lash around your cock with my tongue. Sucking in deeper. Wanting it deeper. Wanting it everywhere. Anywhere. I am yours to fill as you see fit. Just throwing me around. Filling one hole after another. I couldn’t tell you what you used or how long it went on. I just wanted you to use me.
I’m on the verge of giving in. It feels so good and I can feel my cunt clamping down on my fingers wanting more. I have to come. One more minute. I can’t take one more minute. Please. I am so desperate. I’m going to break apart when three little words appear on my screen. Come for me. The sweetest words. Wave after wave is torn out of mw, wrenched from your over stimulated cunt. Bucking off of the mattress. Gritting my teeth trying not to scream. Liquid pours out of me. My head is spinning and yet. And yet I’m a greedy little cunt and a hungry dirty whore and I want more.
I should be content. I know I should but I’m not. If I ask, either you’ll say yes and I will feel even more release as my body is given over to you. Or. You’ll say no and I will have to live with this torment. This need. A hunger burning with the constant throb of my clit at this point. I have to try as I still can’t seem to drag my fingers away. Again. Please. You respond. I know I’m such a hungry little cunt and often insatiable- always wanting more, but hopefully that serves you well. Maybe I can live up to all that you want me to take. Maybe I have the endurance. The ability to keep giving you what you want. I want to please you. I want to serve you. I want to see just what I can take. I grab a pillow and put it on top of my face as I can’t keep the sound from escaping as another orgasm comes ripping through me. Unbinding me and my whole body starts to shake. My head falls back. I just want to rest in that feeling. That bubble. I am nothing. I am Yours.