Saturday, July 8, 2017

Master is Really Mean, And I Am Happy To Be Home

It was a gorgeous night for a walk.  Thunderstorms had cleared away all the humidity and left bright sunshine and brisk refreshment for us to enjoy together.

Master and I, on our two mile walk, had a cheerful talk about everything and anything that came to mind.  

When he sent me up to bed I had to wait on the floor for only a few minutes before he came in.  From a hundred words, looks and touches throughout the evening I knew he desired me.  I stayed still, eyes close at first, but as I more felt than heard his steps behind me I peeked out under my arm to look.  I could see feet.  He hadn't said anything so I knew I was not to move.   The fan began to whir.

 He was very close to me. He touched me and kissed me lightly, so ticklingly that I laughed and tried to move away.  He touched me firmly.  He stood up again.  I heard the rattle of canes in the umbrella holder by the bed. 

A swish and a stinging smack on my upturned ass let me know it was the misery stick.  I stayed quiet, biting my own arm when I had to.   The heavier blows of the red cane were next.  I felt him close behind me again and a second later he thrust into me hard.  I couldn't help a slight moan then.  

When he fucked me in bed I breathed through him.  He pinched my nose shut and covered my mouth with his.  The way to get air was only through his mouth.  We breathed as one.

In the morning, in the shower, I gave him a blowjob.  He came on my face.  I licked up his come and then nestled my head against him, just enjoying the sensations of my cheek on his softening penis, the subjugation.  He grasped his cock and aimed.  I knew what always came next.  After my piss-shower he spit on me.  More subjugation, covered in substances that came from him, I felt deliciously disgusting, delightfully naughty, completely subservient. Owned. Loved.

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