Humiliation

You had indicated you enjoy humiliation and degradation. These things are out of my normal wheelhouse. I enjoy twisting you up, but in the most delicious ways, making you ache for me.

Lately though you had been doing so good. Learning my preferences and preemptively serving me, finding your spot at my feet while my hand absentmindedly finds your hair petting you. I was proud of you and I wanted to reward you.

So I did my research. Some of the scenes I read up on made my stomach clench. Had I been on the receiving end of this play I would have curled so deeply in to myself. It was so different from my loving domination style. But for you, I would try to be darker.

You came to wake me like every other Saturday. Finding me under the blanket with your hands, and then your body.

I never liked waking up alone, always panicked from my own abandonment issues. I reluctantly allowed the separation in the mornings though. As long as you came back, as long as I could reawaken to your touch. It allowed you to prep my coffee, make breakfast, ready yourself for our day.

“Good morning mistress,” you speak softly against my ear as you wrap around me from behind. The fabric of your clothes is slightly cooler then the warmth of my naked flesh and I press myself against the welcome shape of you. I can’t help but smile at the title you bestow upon me. It’s almost as energizing as coffee…..almost.

“Good morning my darling,” I say turning my head to capture your lips in a sleepy kiss.

“Your coffee is waiting and breakfast is ready,” you say, your lips still brushing mine as you speak. I am filled with love for you at the simplest things, ones that the title you use allows me to expect. And yet, I can’t help but be filled with gratitude and pride. You always seem to be a step ahead of me.

I remind myself that pride is why I’m doing this as my hand gently strokes your cheek. I could get lost in this, sink in to you and how your body is mine to paint with all my love through my fingertips. Today will be different though.

It’s almost like giving myself a mental pep talk. Hyping myself up to begin. Something so simple shouldn’t be so terrifying but it’s like jumping off a ledge. It feels like refusing your offerings and it fills me with hesitancy. What if it hurts you in the wrong ways?

But flashes of how you moaned when I had to much to drink that one night and grew careless with my words spur me forward. Your sweet noises drew a orgasm from me that was on another level. I drew pleasure from giving you yours.

“It’ll get cold then,” I say. Trying to keep the tremble from my voice. This will get easier when I work up momentum, once I stop thinking and just let myself sink in to this role, all for you. I listen to your breathing, hyper focus on your body. Will you pull away from me? But your breath is like normal as you nuzzle my ear.

Maybe you think I want your body. I’ve been known to be persuaded under your hands and tongue to lose track of time. Microwaves are lifesavers when I decide to pull myself away from the siren song of your worship.

Not today though. With all my will power I pull myself away from you. I want to pepper your face with kisses and call you a good boy while stroking your cock through your clothes, before taking you as mine, but today I resist my desires.

“Get up,” I say: I don’t trust my voice for many words right now. My heart is pounding and I know if I speak in sentences my breath will come fast. You would pick up on it and enquire if I’m ok. I don’t want your concern today. I want your tears. I want your frenzy and powerlessness and lowered eyes not quite able to meet mine.

There it is. The panic has metamorphosed in to anticipation.

Rising from the bed you look down at me in the dim room. I can feel your confusion. I know you want to ask me what’s up, but you hold your tongue. I feel my pussy respond to your resistance of your own curiosities. This mental submission is beautiful to me.

“Light please,” I say and I mentally scold myself for using my manners. Some habits die hard. Domination doesn’t mean arrogance. Some things are just to natural to break.

I wish I had the vision to watch you like a hawk as I hear you take the few steps to the switch. When you click it you come in to view. Just the undefined shape of you. Without my glasses you are a outline to me. I think to myself there is a metaphors in there somewhere about submission, the beauty you hold in these moments for me.

I want to see you clearly for this though. Sitting up I put on my glasses. Clunky things that fill me with insecurities. There is nothing sexy about a pop bottle thick Lens but you always make me forget.

I think your anticipating I’ll get up as your standing at the door. Such a intuitive smart boy. Today your not on your game though. How could you be? I’ve planned it to be so.

“Strip,” I say.

Now comes the catch in your breath. I miss out on the luxury of being able to see enough to read your facial expressions. What I miss there I find in all sorts of ways.

From your breath I can tell your starting to become excited. Your still confused but it’s melting away now. I want to hear your voice now, to read you deeper.

“I told you strip,” and I watch as you snap in to motion, as If pulled by invisible strings my exquisite marionette.

“Yes mistress,” you say. There, the familiar rush. Pride and love and power all blurring in to one. I feel every nerve ending in my body become hyper alert. This is willing captivity and it’s incredible.

First your shirt, then your pants and boxers. You put them on the back of my chair. I want to rush across the room and pin you against the wall. Ravage your body with my hands and lips and tongue, but I keep myself still. I’m already aching to have you inside me.

“Come kneel,” I’m speaking in a breathy whisper. I don’t hide the effect your compliance has on me. Your surrender is equally as much a drug to me as it is to you.

You come back to the bed and fold yourself for me. This moment always steals my breath and I’m momentarily lost. My hand finds your chin and i tilt your face up to look at me. In these moments I have no doubt that I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, just for these moments.

“God, I love you,” I whisper before I press my lips to yours.

My mind is yelling at me that I’m doing this all wrong, and I tell it to shut up. I will do with you as I wish on my timeline. First though, I will drink in the intoxication of you lowered before me.

“I love you mistress,” your voice holds a softness, and something more. Anticipation perhaps? It’s the title and your words that bring me to my feet.

Arching my hips, pressing my pussy in to your face. I could cradle your head and take my release this way making your face slick with my pleasure and leaving you throbbing.

Maybe I’ll just have many orgasms this morning. In the back of my mind I hope you made a omelette as I press you forward closing my eyes.

You moan against me moving your lips and tongue just as I like. Here with my eyes closed and the warmth of your mouth the tenderness fades away.

I growl and twist my hand in your hair. Pain adds a new flavour to your noises and it’s delicious.

I open my eyes and pull harder, separating your mouth from my throbbing pussy. I don’t know who I’m torturing any more, but you’ll suffer for my discomfort.

Your face is slick with my arousal and your breathless looking up at me.

“Dirty little whore,” and the venom in my words surprises me.

The catch in your breath again. My skin tingles in this moment I realize I could break you apart and you would stay there just for me to put you back together again. It’s a new layer to our power transfer.

You start to lick my mess off your lips but my hand on the side of your face stops your motion.

I want to ask for your consent before I hit you. It’s all my power to not do so and simply operate on the trust we share. My hand stings as It cracks against your cheek.

You make a sound of surprise and pain.

“Don’t you dare clean yourself. You look better beneath me dirty and pitiful.”

“Yes. Yes mistress,” you say. The stutter in your words combined with the softness you speak them has me briefly worried. I want to lower myself on to you and wrap around you while you slide in to me, but I don’t move.

Instead I hit you again. The other side of your face.

“What are you!” I snarl. My nails are digging in to your shoulder now. “Say it,” I breathe, low and firm. My eyes are drinking you in as your breath hisses in through your teeth.

“I’m your dirty little whore mistress,” you sound close to tears but your gloriously hard cock is telling of your enjoyment.

A moan slips from my lips. “Fuck,” I say, “that’s right, grab your cock.”

I wanted nothing more then to wrap my own hand around it. Squeezing you until you flinch, growling about how this is only my toy. Today your hand will suffice.

You do as instructed taking yourself in your hand.

“Tell me,” I say licking my lips, “how badly do you ache for me?”

This part of dominance allows me to unashamedly drink from your need until my self worth issues become a dull background hum rather then a persistent buzzing. With you beside me they are always a part of the background and while today is no different, today I’m just greedy. You often tell me to use you, so use I shall.

“Please,” your voice is deliciously close to breaking and I realize in surprise I want to send you past the edge.

Digging my nails in to your shoulder harder I speak again. “That’s not a answer,” I say through my teeth.

“Mistress, I need you, to be inside you.”

I manage to make myself laugh, the sexy kind that surprises me and I give myself a round of applause in my head. “I know you can beg far better then that,” I say continuing to intensify my grip.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the pain increases. I know your not one for much of it and seeing you suffer for me is the sweetest gift.

“‘Mmhmm,” I say softly, briefly stroking your hair with my other hand. “Beg like the needy little whore you are,” I whisper.

I feel a tear slip down my fingers from where they continue their torture.

“Please mistress,” your voice is fogged with tears now. My caregiver instincts scream.

“You want this,” it’s not quite a question but I need to check in without blowing the game.

“Yes, yes please,” you sniffle between your words and I feel my body tingle I know I’ll need to have a conversation with you later about how my body responds to your tears, but for now there was more fun to be had.

“grab my toy,” I say. You know the one I mean, my clitt sucker. Quick to get the job done, and with how I’m feeling it’ll be even faster. I can tell your hand is shaky from how it rattles the drawer pull.

“Having trouble darling?” I can’t keep the amusement from my voice and I realize mind games and being a brat are spun from the same cloth.

“No mistress,” you say and you hand it to me your other hand still on your cock.

“I could take you,” I say watching you closely, “lower my body on yours and use you as I like.”

“Yes,” your all breath now, need and want just how I like you.

“But it’s to much work. Just to have that tiny prick inside me for a few pumps before you get yours”

Your eyes lower and more tears fall. I wonder if I’m to cruel. But again I remind myself you can stand at any point. I don’t hold you here. This all stems from your choice.

“So, your going to stroke yourself while you watch me, and If you can get yourself to cum before me…”

You whimper. You know you’ll lose this race already.

“Only then can you have your release.”

“Yes mistress,” you sound so defeated

“Poor boy, you already know it’s a lost cause,” I laugh as I speak. “Remember when you asked for this play, perhaps you should be more careful of what you request. You know how I love to give gifts.”

A smirk paints my lips as I stretch dramatically on the bed. I hear you sniffle beside me as I take one last look at you before switching on my toy and closing my eyes.

Darker

You had indicated you enjoy humiliation and degradation. These things are out of my normal wheelhouse. I enjoy twisting you up, but in the most delicious ways, making you ache for me.

Lately though you had been doing so good. Learning my preferences and preemptively serving me, finding your spot at my feet while my hand absentmindedly finds your hair petting you. I was proud of you and I wanted to reward you.

So I did my research. Some of the scenes I read up on made my stomach clench. Had I been on the receiving end of this play I would have curled so deeply in to myself. It was so different from my loving domination style. But for you, I would try to be darker.

You came to wake me like every other Saturday. Finding me under the blanket with your hands, and then your body.

I never liked waking up alone, always panicked from my own abandonment issues. I reluctantly allowed the separation in the mornings though. As long as you came back, as long as I could reawaken to your touch. It allowed you to prep my coffee, make breakfast, ready yourself for our day.

“Good morning mistress,” you speak softly against my ear as you wrap around me from behind. The fabric of your clothes is slightly cooler then the warmth of my naked flesh and I press myself against the welcome shape of you. I can’t help but smile at the title you bestow upon me. It’s almost as energizing as coffee…..almost.

“Good morning my darling,” I say turning my head to capture your lips in a sleepy kiss.

“Your coffee is waiting and breakfast is ready,” you say, your lips still brushing mine as you speak. I am filled with love for you at the simplest things, ones that the title you use allows me to expect. And yet, I can’t help but be filled with gratitude and pride. You always seem to be a step ahead of me.

I remind myself that pride is why I’m doing this as my hand gently strokes your cheek. I could get lost in this, sink in to you and how your body is mine to paint with all my love through my fingertips. Today will be different though.

It’s almost like giving myself a mental pep talk. Hyping myself up to begin. Something so simple shouldn’t be so terrifying but it’s like jumping off a ledge. It feels like refusing your offerings and it fills me with hesitancy. What if it hurts you in the wrong ways?

But flashes of how you moaned when I had to much to drink that one night and grew careless with my words spur me forward. Your sweet noises drew a orgasm from me that was on another level. I drew pleasure from giving you yours.

“It’ll get cold then,” I say. Trying to keep the tremble from my voice. This will get easier when I work up momentum, once I stop thinking and just let myself sink in to this role, all for you. I listen to your breathing, hyper focus on your body. Will you pull away from me? But your breath is like normal as you nuzzle my ear.

Maybe you think I want your body. I’ve been known to be persuaded under your hands and tongue to lose track of time. Microwaves are lifesavers when I decide to pull myself away from the siren song of your worship.

Not today though. With all my will power I pull myself away from you. I want to pepper your face with kisses and call you a good boy while stroking your cock through your clothes, before taking you as mine, but today I resist my desires.

“Get up,” I say: I don’t trust my voice for many words right now. My heart is pounding and I know if I speak in sentences my breath will come fast. You would pick up on it and enquire if I’m ok. I don’t want your concern today. I want your tears. I want your frenzy and powerlessness and lowered eyes not quite able to meet mine.

There it is. The panic has metamorphosed in to anticipation.

Rising from the bed you look down at me in the dim room. I can feel your confusion. I know you want to ask me what’s up, but you hold your tongue. I feel my pussy respond to your resistance of your own curiosities. This mental submission is beautiful to me.

“Light please,” I say and I mentally scold myself for using my manners. Some habits die hard. Domination doesn’t mean arrogance. Some things are just to natural to break.

I wish I had the vision to watch you like a hawk as I hear you take the few steps to the switch. When you click it you come in to view. Just the undefined shape of you. Without my glasses you are a outline to me. I think to myself there is a metaphors in there somewhere about submission, the beauty you hold in these moments for me.

I want to see you clearly for this though. Sitting up I put on my glasses. Clunky things that fill me with insecurities. There is nothing sexy about a pop bottle thick Lens but you always make me forget.

I think your anticipating I’ll get up as your standing at the door. Such a intuitive smart boy. Today your not on your game though. How could you be? I’ve planned it to be so.

“Strip,” I say.

Now comes the catch in your breath. I miss out on the luxury of being able to see enough to read your facial expressions. What I miss there I find in all sorts of ways.

From your breath I can tell your starting to become excited. Your still confused but it’s melting away now. I want to hear your voice now, to read you deeper.

“I told you strip,” and I watch as you snap in to motion, as If pulled by invisible strings my exquisite marionette.

“Yes mistress,” you say. There, the familiar rush. Pride and love and power all blurring in to one. I feel every nerve ending in my body become hyper alert. This is willing captivity and it’s incredible.

First your shirt, then your pants and boxers. You put them on the back of my chair. I want to rush across the room and pin you against the wall. Ravage your body with my hands and lips and tongue, but I keep myself still. I’m already aching to have you inside me.

“Come kneel,” I’m speaking in a breathy whisper. I don’t hide the effect your compliance has on me. Your surrender is equally as much a drug to me as it is to you.

You come back to the bed and fold yourself for me. This moment always steals my breath and I’m momentarily lost. My hand finds your chin and i tilt your face up to look at me. In these moments I have no doubt that I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, just for these moments.

“God, I love you,” I whisper before I press my lips to yours.

My mind is yelling at me that I’m doing this all wrong, and I tell it to shut up. I will do with you as I wish on my timeline. First though, I will drink in the intoxication of you lowered before me.

“I love you mistress,” your voice holds a softness, and something more. Anticipation perhaps? It’s the title and your words that bring me to my feet.

Arching my hips, pressing my pussy in to your face. I could cradle your head and take my release this way making your face slick with my pleasure and leaving you throbbing.

Maybe I’ll just have many orgasms this morning. In the back of my mind I hope you made a omelette as I press you forward closing my eyes.

You moan against me moving your lips and tongue just as I like. Here with my eyes closed and the warmth of your mouth the tenderness fades away.

I growl and twist my hand in your hair. Pain adds a new flavour to your noises and it’s delicious.

I open my eyes and pull harder, separating your mouth from my throbbing pussy. I don’t know who I’m torturing any more, but you’ll suffer for my discomfort.

Your face is slick with my arousal and your breathless looking up at me.

“Dirty little whore,” and the venom in my words surprises me.

The catch in your breath again. My skin tingles in this moment I realize I could break you apart and you would stay there just for me to put you back together again. It’s a new layer to our power transfer.

You start to lick my mess off your lips but my hand on the side of your face stops your motion.

I want to ask for your consent before I hit you. It’s all my power to not do so and simply operate on the trust we share. My hand stings as It cracks against your cheek.

You make a sound of surprise and pain.

“Don’t you dare clean yourself. You look better beneath me dirty and pitiful.”

“Yes. Yes mistress,” you say. The stutter in your words combined with the softness you speak them has me briefly worried. I want to lower myself on to you and wrap around you while you slide in to me, but I don’t move.

Instead I hit you again. The other side of your face.

“What are you!” I snarl. My nails are digging in to your shoulder now. “Say it,” I breathe, low and firm. My eyes are drinking you in as your breath hisses in through your teeth.

“I’m your dirty little whore mistress,” you sound close to tears but your gloriously hard cock is telling of your enjoyment.

A moan slips from my lips. “Fuck,” I say, “that’s right, grab your cock.”

I wanted nothing more then to wrap my own hand around it. Squeezing you until you flinch, growling about how this is only my toy. Today your hand will suffice.

You do as instructed taking yourself in your hand.

“Tell me,” I say licking my lips, “how badly do you ache for me?”

This part of dominance allows me to unashamedly drink from your need until my self worth issues become a dull background hum rather then a persistent buzzing. With you beside me they are always a part of the background and while today is no different, today I’m just greedy. You often tell me to use you, so use I shall.

“Please,” your voice is deliciously close to breaking and I realize in surprise I want to send you past the edge.

Digging my nails in to your shoulder harder I speak again. “That’s not a answer,” I say through my teeth.

“Mistress, I need you, to be inside you.”

I manage to make myself laugh, the sexy kind that surprises me and I give myself a round of applause in my head. “I know you can beg far better then that,” I say continuing to intensify my grip.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the pain increases. I know your not one for much of it and seeing you suffer for me is the sweetest gift.

“‘Mmhmm,” I say softly, briefly stroking your hair with my other hand. “Beg like the needy little whore you are,” I whisper.

I feel a tear slip down my fingers from where they continue their torture.

“Please mistress,” your voice is fogged with tears now. My caregiver instincts scream.

“You want this,” it’s not quite a question but I need to check in without blowing the game.

“Yes, yes please,” you sniffle between your words and I feel my body tingle I know I’ll need to have a conversation with you later about how my body responds to your tears, but for now there was more fun to be had.

“grab my toy,” I say. You know the one I mean, my clitt sucker. Quick to get the job done, and with how I’m feeling it’ll be even faster. I can tell your hand is shaky from how it rattles the drawer pull.

“Having trouble darling?” I can’t keep the amusement from my voice and I realize mind games and being a brat are spun from the same cloth.

“No mistress,” you say and you hand it to me your other hand still on your cock.

“I could take you,” I say watching you closely, “lower my body on yours and use you as I like.”

“Yes,” your all breath now, need and want just how I like you.

“But it’s to much work. Just to have that tiny prick inside me for a few pumps before you get yours”

Your eyes lower and more tears fall. I wonder if I’m to cruel. But again I remind myself you can stand at any point. I don’t hold you here. This all stems from your choice.

“So, your going to stroke yourself while you watch me, and If you can get yourself to cum before me…”

You whimper. You know you’ll lose this race already.

“Only then can you have your release.”

“Yes mistress,” you sound so defeated

“Poor boy, you already know it’s a lost cause,” I laugh as I speak. “Remember when you asked for this play, perhaps you should be more careful of what you request. You know how I love to give gifts.”

A smirk paints my lips as I stretch dramatically on the bed. I hear you sniffle beside me as I take one last look at you before switching on my toy and closing my eyes.

Brat

He comes to me quietly. I can tell he is chewing on his words. I’ve never been one to be the first to talk at social events, preferring online conversation to start at first.

I’ve been watching him through the night and am quietly thrilled he has decided to approach me. The way his hair frames his face is the perfect mix of masculine and feminine that makes my mind burn with possibilities.

I could tangle my fingers in it, pull him where I want, run my nails through it like silk… his voice breaks my daydreams and brings me back to reality.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

The weekend retreat was held on beautiful grounds. Volunteers would comb them frequently to give the secluded feel of privacy and yet keep safety in the forefront. This fact and my building desire for the boy in front of me made my mind up and I accepted.

As we walked he spoke of my writings, how he had been reading them for a while. I was both surprised and flattered. Mostly I just babble about my passion for a dynamic, write snippets of word play, and occasionally the odd erotica. I didn’t think many people paid much mind to them. Here was this stranger asking me of the inspiration behind them. It was new for me, and the more we spoke the more I found myself wanting his mind as well as his body.

We reached a waterfall and he pulled a blanket out of his backpack. I was surprised at how prepared he had been, wondering to myself how long it would be until he tried to initiate something.

Smirking I wondered if I could help him along. Making eye contact I slipped the sun dress I had been wearing up over my head. Stretching like a cat I smiled and made my way to the blanket laying down looking up at him.

I think I shocked the poor guy. He just stood there gazing at me. Normally the exhibitionist in me would love the eyes on me but my mind was anxious. Did I make him uneasy?

Only one way to find out. I patted the blanket wordlessly asking him to come sit he complied and my head buzzed with the thrill of his compliance. I felt myself grow wet. It had really been to long…

My head found his lap tentatively. It’s excruciating regardless of what side of the slash you occupy making these advances. I hated the possibility of rejection.

His hand found my hair and i felt the tension leave my body as he stroked it. Maybe I could be confident again after all. While his fingers soothed me he confessed to me he had been wanting to meet me for a while and thought this event was the perfect opportunity.

From in his lap I snorted. He spoke of me like I was some coveted find. But I was just me, all passion and intensity and poorly timed laughter.

When he asked me if he could help me relax I was curious. Was this when he would bless me with his penis? Sent down from the cock gods to ease all my insignificant life problems? Would I even tell him no at this point? Probably not.

But much to my surprise he laid me back and began to kiss my shoulders. Making his way down my body. All the while speaking softly about how he paid attention to the things I liked from my writings. All I knew was it was getting harder to focus on his words and not grab him by the hair and shove his sweet face between my thighs.

He was at my hips now, kissing and nibbling them. I looked down at him head swirling with desire and power and realized he was smirking at me.

“ I know you like worship,” he said. I swear I could hear the chuckle in his voice.

I managed to not snarl the expletives in my head and responded by arching up my hips. I didn’t trust myself to say anything nice and I wanted him to finish his job.

He didn’t keep me waiting long thankfully and his tongue found my centre sending shockwaves pulsing through me. Somewhere along the way my hand found his hair and tangled itself in it

Here I was making fantasy reality! As his tongue dipped inside of me he moaned and I lost the thread of control I had left. Pushing his head forward he moaned louder as I joined his symphony and came against his eager mouth.

I would have died happy had that been the end of it. His lips kissing my inner thighs and my hand slipping through his hair. My eyes were closed but I toyed with the image of him on his knees before me. I realized I wanted him far more then I should. From the way he knew my body I realized I gave him all the tools to do so in my writings.

I tried to make sentences. My throat was scratchy from my banshee imitations. “Your a pleasant surprise,” I said. “If you’ve done your research, you know I’m insatiable and that that alone won’t be enough for me.”

He sighed then. Big and dramatic like I was doing him some unnecessary hardship. The act was short lived though because his face split with a smile that made my stomach flip.

This would be it! He would offer up his body for me, and I would take it knowing I was doing us both a favour. I didn’t even care any more about how hungry I was for him. My pussy throbbed and I ached to be filled.

But once again I was wrong. He was standing up. He took a moment to look down at me before extending a hand. I wasn’t sure if my legs were steady enough to stand but I managed.

Why were his clothes still on?

He led me to a log and asked me if I would bend over. He approached me as a submissive! If he put anything in my butt I was not going to be thrilled about it.

Looking over my shoulder I asked him why, but he once again told me it was to help me relax. My curiosity got the best of me so I did as he asked, leaning over.

I felt the warmth of his body from behind me, his hands ghosting their way over my hips and waist causing me to break out in goosebumps. Grazing my earlobe with his lips he said he had read about how I enjoy impact. His hands massaged my shoulders while he spoke.

Who even was this guy! My legs began to feel shaky as he spoke. When he asked for permission to hit me I couldn’t keep my breath from shaking as I told him yes.

He stroked my hair again and I felt the feeling of calm wash over me, and then the sting of his hand. It was beautifully disorientated. I felt my arousal slick my thighs as he hit me again, and again

There was nothing quiet about me now, nothing tame either. I pushed my ass against him as he folded his body over mine. The fabric of his pants a cruel reminder of his composure, the hardness of him straining against it a siren song of the effect I had.

“Why are you in clothes?” I growled. Drunken with desire I let myself be direct “I want you inside me,” I said.

He didn’t respond in words. Just a acknowledgement sound before his fingers slipped inside my soaked pussy.

Moaning I moved my hips against his hand, looking at him over my shoulder. He was smirking at me again and I growled as I moved with more purpose, but he withdrew his fingers

My mouth opened but no words came out I looked at him dumbfounded.

“Why?” I managed, my voice sounding a lot more little then I wanted it to. Visions of shoving him on his back and riding him like a good little racehorse flashed through my head. “I think you pay to much attention,” I whimper. Then far to close to pleading, “I need you inside of me.”

Yet again he refused me, because he wouldn’t want me to think he was only in it to get his dick wet. My head swirled with frustration at having my own rants used against me. I had to admit he was making me feel ways I had not felt in quite some time though.

He was taking something out of his bag again, a dildo. A nice sized one, my mind rejoiced at getting filled after all! My pussy throbbed with anticipation.

His lips on my ear again as he spoke in a whisper. “While you might not have me, this is the next best thing.”

I felt the tip of it against my opening as he spoke, sliding it in inch by inch with his next words. “It’s a replica of mine.”

“Fuck” I squeaked as felt my legs begin to tremble. He moved it so slow, inch by inch in and out. He breathed in my ear how he could never have the self control to be this slow with his real cock.

Refusing to let him hear my whimper I found his lips with mine and kissed him. I expected it to be full of hunger and yet it held a tenderness I hadn’t been prepared for. His eyes were open and I found myself drawn to them as he continued his agonizingly slow rhythm.

His hand found my hair again. There was something that held unspoken promise here. I couldn’t give it more thought then that due to the sensation between my legs.

My eyes must have darkened because he paused his motion. The moment suspended between us as we shared one another’s air, his nose brushing mine.

Then my teeth captured his lower lip. “Now,” I said low and softly through them as I began to bite harder.

As he moved the toy fast and hard he again made that sound, his lip still between my teeth until my own moans let it slip free. As I felt myself cum my legs buckled but he did not let me fall. Tears slid down my cheeks from the prolonged release and I began to laugh as I often do.

Wiping my tears with one hand he slowed his motion with the other, sliding the toy out of me. I watched in a dream like state as he licked it clean, still wearing that smirk.

“Your a brat,” I shakily said.

“Me?” His voice couldn’t hide his laugh as he helped me to straighten. Slipping my son dress over my head he put the blanket and the toy away. I was thankful the walk back was a short one.

Make it up to you

She was down on the kitchen floor searching in the cupboard for a container lid when I walked in.

She had made stew from the leftover bird from Xmas dinner and the kitchen smelled amazing.

I squat down beside her and bring her to me, stopping her hunt. Breathing her in I mumble a good girl against her lips as my hands tangle in her hair.

It never takes long to become lost to her. As our lips clash so to do our bodies as I feel her come to life against me.

Somehow she is laying back on the floor and now she is inside of me. I want it to continue but my mother is on her way. Reluctantly I disconnect our flesh and promise I’ll make it up to her later. It’s a loss for us both honestly.

The evening passes with little fanfare, my dependable foot rub to relax me. The warmth of her body around mine sending me off to sleep.

The next day she is getting dressed from her shower when I come to her.

It doesn’t matter she is fully clothed at this point as I take her hand and guide her to the bed.

She follows without question or resistance and I’m filled with love for her. It only grows when I push her back and she falls. There is no struggle, only compliance.

Yanking down her pants I take her in my mouth until she is how I want her. The soft noises she makes increases my already aching desire for her.

Climbing on top of her I guide her in to my body where she belongs. Then I begin to move my hips.

When we are done we are both wet with sweat. Her clean clothes aren’t so clean any more and her shirt is covered with our cum. My legs are sore when I detangle from her.

“I told you I would make it up to you,” I say as o smile over my shoulder at her.

Not quite

Her bum was on the floor.

She had not yet been permitted to kneel, but the urge to look down at her was to strong to ignore any longer.

Fingertips painted the bones of her face before firmly gripping her jaw, squeezing.

This was a unspoken ownership. From how their breath mingled to the blood pulsing in their veins. It was clear to them both. The lack of titles did nothing to hold back the energy they were transmitting.

Gentle kisses turned to nips, then hungry bites. Fingertips on skin soon became teasing nails turned to eager claws.

Clothes fell away, helpless to the need that burned in the air between their bodies. Nothing existed in this world but the two of them. Her body, her upturned face, the curve of her neck, the way her hair fell around her face.

Every reaction was a gift of its own. A gasp here, a whimper there, a moan now. She was captive without a collar, without the title of owned.

Primal energy crackled between them. the urge to claim a taunting whisper beneath their motion. The call of it was something one could get lost in if not careful.

Like the pressure applied around her neck. The wetness between the thighs when she offered it up without a word. The power swirling through veins as the hands tighten, the heart quickens, then the grip loosens. The hands stay, not quite a collar, yet they both feel the symbolism of it in their bones.

Bones that raddle in both their bodies frames. Ones that ache to kneel and ones that resist forcing the action.

They must be patient. Beauty is pain. This waiting, it’s the sweetest kind of suffering. Dancing around these flames of lust burns them both, yet they come back again and again. Some dominants like pain, some submissives like to see how far is to far.

They feed one another. In these games they play, testing their limits time and time again. Waiting to see if the kneeling will be given or taken. If “mistress” will be gifted or torn from a cry of passion or pain, or both.

The lack of clarity makes it all the more thrilling. The journey might be unclear but the destination is what drives them forward.

Ask and receive

The request came earlier in the evening.

When I walk in the bedroom he is sitting in his leather skirt and thigh highs.

Somehow I find myself kneeling before him. Not from a place of submission though.

When he dresses like this it makes me feel even more dominant. I just want to rub my face against the leather of the skirt. Feel his hand pet my hair. Meet his gaze in the midst of this power dance we constantly spin in.

“All my other mistresses did it,” he says.

I could be offended by his words. I am NOT the others. I am me. But instead I remind myself the ones before me had him longer. Might have known him better. Seen more of his depth then I have been allowed yet. Suddenly the request could be a honour and I listen.

At first I laugh it off. Feeling out of my element as I often do when he asks for things. Things others who perhaps cared less or, those who were more brutal were better at dishing out. I feel to soft. Inadequate. Flawed in my tenderness when he aches for brutality. But I listen. I remind myself he wants this.

This time he will not get away with asking for something when in a frenzy and then backing out when the fog has cleared.

He protests but they are gentle resistances. If he were to put effort behind them, use a harsh tone of voice, this “forced obedience” would break and I would freeze. Seeking out his reassurances as I do his embrace every night.

I wonder if he knows this? Could he almost instinctually feel it? Does he keep his “resistance” light and half hearted on purpose?

Grabbing him by his hair I pull him behind me to the bathroom. There is no resistance and he obediently follows me. Still protesting.

I silence his words with a kiss as we enter the bathroom. “You asked for this,” I say. My hands touch the stubble on his cheeks.

He gets in the shower first and suddenly I feel out of my element again. I’ve never done this. How does one even go about doing this!

“So do you like, just get on your knees?” I say. I feel my dominance washing down the drain. Topping has never been my skill point.

But when his tongue starts lapping at my clit I forget my unease. The water on my skin combined with the image of him on his knees before me is pure bliss.

A moan slips from my mouth as I watch him lower himself further. My legs begin to shake.

I know I need to let go to give him what he wants. But I can’t. All I can feel is his tongue. He is making it impossible.

And then I realize. HE is making it impossible. Being a little fucking brat. When he asked for this. He is still trying to control the situation.

Through my moans caused by yet another orgasm from his fucking glorious tongue I gather my senses.

I aim to please.

And I let go.

I can hear him swallow. Lapping up my urine. I want to be grossed out but I’m moaning so loud and all I can see is stars. I don’t know how I’m still standing. I feel drunk with power.

When we get out of the shower I ride his face some more. When I cum more stars flare behind my eyes.

That night I drift off quickly and sleep deeply. Perhaps “force” isn’t such a hard line in the sand for me after all. Maybe I can control him.

When he wants me to, and when I feel like indulging his bedroom games.

The real power comes in baked goods. The ones he picked up for me today, because I asked. And he listened.

When asking turns to telling: pop goes the feeldoe!

In theory it was a good idea. So was the lube. It made slipping the end made for me in so much easier.

Sticking the other end in his ass was a  exercise in patience. Everyone talks about shoving stuff in people’s butts like it’s so easy!

It’s not. Unless you want to hurt someone, and murder my pussy! Keep in mind the other end was inside me. And I was already wet from my own excitement about finally getting to use this “little beauty” on his glorious body. I had been asking him for weeks.

Seeing him prance around the house in thigh highs and a leather mini skirt was enough to make my asking turn to telling, it was enough for my pussy to be wet enough I probably could have gone without the lube.

I should have went without the lube.

I eventually got his end in to his end, hah! After fucking his smart mouth with it. I was so turned on and excited.

And then it popped out of me. He held his end like a trooper. Because ass is tighter then pussy?

I quickly became amused that the hooked end sticking out of his butt made a good handle. It also looked like a tail.

So I barked at him. And he probably glared at me but I’ll happily play the blind card on this one and say I have no idea.

Then I turned on the vibrating function and pumped that sweet little toot in and out of him.

It wasn’t long until I became hungry for penetration of my own and removed the toy so I could ride his sweet face, followed by his cock of course.

All in all my dreams of taking his ass to pound town while also riding something at the same time didn’t exactly come to fruition. But I got to see him in thigh highs and a leather skirt.

Next time I’ll skip the lube. In the meantime I guess I’ll work on my Keagle‘s!

Haunted

I’m laying in bed with my head on his chest. The sound of his heart should be the only sound I need to lull me to sleep. But suddenly words from my past, and a voice clear as day pop in my mind unwelcome.

“Faith love hope trust, mine yours this us.”

Suddenly I’m deeply sad. Laying in the dark wishing I had words to exchange with my boy that could hold meaning like those ones once did to me. They became such a part of my drifting off that even now over a year later I still feel their absence.

Maybe it’s how much J talked about him in his avalanche of comments, or the Facebook memory I saw yesterday talking about him. Whatever the cause I laid awake last night with words swirling in my mind I still can’t forget.

Maybe it’s how J said things about my “so called dominance” that had me nuzzling my boys chest and wanting to hide from it all. The roles, the titles, the empty feeling that had snuck up on me, unwanted and unwelcome.

Regardless of the cause I’m in a reflective state late at night. With nothing but the sound of my boys shallow breaths beside me. I want nothing more then to turn my mind off and sleep. But instead I’m flooded with memories.

Like how when he left me last December and I went to use the want he purchased for me for the first time alone I couldn’t. Tears slid down my cheeks and no matter how I pressed the end against my body I couldn’t find release or stop their path.

Like how the last time I saw him I was strong up until I wasn’t. Impenetrable until I broke down sobbing on his shoulder saying “I want my daddy back,” clinging to him with all I had that wasn’t enough to make him stay.

How I dug my nails in to my palms as I watched him walk down my driveway so I could feel some other kind of pain. Anything other then the agony of how he was shattering me.

These memories still open everything up for me again. They make me feel shame for having a wonderful boy beside me and getting lost to them. I feel undeserving of titles and contracts and submission when I’m still hurting over a daddy who gave up on me over a year ago. I feel shaky and ill prepared for the title he calls me by.

Somehow though he sees something I can’t see in myself. It’s in how he sleeps soundly beside me. How his hand reaches out to touch my skin in the darkness of our room. And in that moment I don’t feel so haunted. Finally I’m able to drift off to sleep to recharge for another day.

All that you do

“I cleaned up the kitchen.”

You say it as you come to sit beside me and I wrap around you in appreciation. You are my good boy and I value all that you do for me.

But your not done.

When we go to bed you tell me your kind of tired. I smile hopefully as my hands slide over your skin. In the warmth of our bed the rolls shift and I’m now the baby girl.

Your cock is hard and I squeeze it possessively.

“Mine!” I say as I nuzzle your neck. The declaration is the last of my dominant energy slipping away. I’m sinking in to the comfort of bottom space with you. My body is eager.

This time is gentle. A stark contrast from the last round that had my head bouncing off the headboard. You fit yourself between my legs the way I like and take me deep and slow.

This position doesn’t happen often so it’s only a few thrusts before I’m whimpering and clawing your back. My face is against your shoulder and your hair fills my mouth, making my moans and whispered declarations of daddy even more blurred.

Beneath you I tremble.

When you slide out of me I want more. I get drunk with lust easily. It never takes much.

So you grab the glass dildo. It’s freezing! But my body warms it quickly.

Your movements are slow at first. Agonizingly slow. But I don’t dare move my hips. The rigid glass hurts if pushed in wrong. So I lay at your mercy.

When you increase your motion im already moaning with need. I grab your pillow and clasp it over my head as I once again get lost to your title pouring from my mouth.

I’m seeing stars when you finally stop. All the tension has been zapped from me as you lift the pillow from my face. My hair is a mess that you brush aside before kissing me.

You have to help move me in to your arms. Beneath my ear is the sound of your heart.

“You are a good boy,” I murmur. Softer I say “I love you daddy.” Sleep isn’t long after my words.

Captivated

When talking with a friend about giving him ideas of pictures to draw this visual came in to my head. It’s been circling around for a while and now I find myself wanting to write a narrative for the image in my mind.

Enjoy!

While the times that she chose to surface would change, he always seemed to be waiting. No matter if the sun was shining, or the stars twinkled in the sky, when she pulled herself up on to her rock there he to would be.

She only need look across the waters she knew to be her home to see him on his knees. His eyes searching the waves for her head to break them. His body still in his silent worship.

This time had been much like the others. She had pulled herself out of the blue depths. Her tail trailing in to the water as she leaned against the rock. Sometimes she envied it in it’s structure. So visible in its glory, protruding from the ocean without a care in the world with no secrets to keep.

The wind blew a few strands of her hair in to her face. The scent of the ocean mixed with the scent of land as she pushed it back behind her ear. still a few of its ends tickled her cheek.

He was there as he had always been. A constant in a world she knew little of. Kneeling on the beach close to the waters edge. She wondered if it was cold on his skin, as the air was on hers.

Then he lifted his head, and for the first time their eyes met. She didn’t know if it was the wind or his gaze that made her bones rattle in her frame.