My master has me exactly where he likes me.
In bed, flat on my back, each leg pinioned to the nearest bedpost. My wrists medical-taped together and caught on the hook in the headboard. My hair is fanned out behind my head in a shining curtain, so I hold very still, because I know that’s how he likes it.
Some days he blindfolds me, but as he slid his hand up my thigh earlier he told me that he wanted to see fear in my eyes tonight.
So here I lay, completely naked except for the collar around my throat, trying to keep my breathing even while he gently strokes my inner thigh with the tip of his riding crop. The room would smell like sopping pussy except that all the windows are open. Aside from the oppressive heat, he likes the idea of our neighbors hearing my moans and poorly-muffled whimpers.
He slaps the crop against my thigh, making sure that I see it, making sure that I tense up to enhance the pain. “You’re going to have quite the collection of bruises tomorrow, my lovely,” he promises.
“Thank you, Master,” I sigh.
And then his phone rings. Not his real phone – the burner. My heart sinks when he answers.
“Yeah. Where?” The muscles of his jaw flex and he tosses the crop down across my torso. “I’ll take care of it.”
I know what this means: He’ll be gone for an hour or three, and come home smelling of smoke and gunpowder. There’s no hope of a beating after that; he’ll just shower, fuck my face, and if I’m lucky give me permission to masturbate before he falls asleep.
Some of my disappointment must be showing in my face when he hangs up, because instead of untying my ankles he slaps my face. “What are you sulking about? I’ll give you a reason to sulk, my little whore.” He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a plug, lubes it messily, and reaches between my legs to press it against my asshole. I whimper softly as it slips inside me, and then louder when it clicks on and begins to vibrate.
My master knows me well: The vibration is enough to excite, but not nearly enough for me to actually come to, especially with my legs pinned apart. “We’ll see if a couple of hours of this doesn’t teach you a better attitude,” he snarl-smiles. “Don’t wait up.”
And then he puts on his jacket and stalks out of the room. I hear the refrigerator open and close, the lights in the kitchen click off, and the front door slam.
Alone in the bedroom, my whimpers grow slowly louder until I can’t even hear the sound of the toy over my desperate moans. I’m so consumed by the sensation and my need to get off that I don’t even notice you until you’ve climbed in the open window.
(Hi! Please feel free to take this story any direction you’d like: Are you a burglar who found an unexpected extra prize? A white knight who heard a sobbing woman and dashed to help? Some dangerous associate of my master? The only thing that’s set in stone for me is that I want to see what happens when my master catches you helping yourself to his property.)
Submitted June 19, 2016 at 12:59AM by amongthegrass http://ift.tt/1UhxzMR dirtypenpals
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