Sexual Rewards Are the Best Kind
“Let’s get ready, and go do the yard,” Master said as he got out of his chair and pulled on a shirt.
Ever the complainer, I pulled a face, sagged as comically as I could, and replied, “I don’t wanna pull weeds.”
“If we don’t do it now, we’ll be too tired,” he said, ignoring the fact that technically, even though I was joking, I was talking back to him. “Get dressed.”
So I did. I hate pulling weeds because it means pulling weeds out of the cracks in the cement, too, and that’s hard to do! I’ve thought about getting some sort of spray, but I have no idea how spraying the weeds in the front yard will affect the food growing in the backyard, so I haven’t. I suppose I should just research natural options…but I haven’t.
He pulled out the lawn mower. He’s only let me help mow the yard twice since we’ve lived here. He enjoys doing it, so it’s become his chore. And since we don’t have a weed whacker, if the weeds around the house (and, of course, in the garden) need attention, I pull them while he mows.
I try not to do this job half-assed. It looks worse if you miss spots. It’s driving me crazy that he wouldn’t move the car so I could weed in front of it. I thought about moving it myself, but it’s been…god, eight or nine years since I’ve been behind the wheel of a car. I’ve never been behind the wheel of this car. Knowing my luck, I’d drive into the house, or something.
When I was finished, I moved the grill and yard furniture (which amounts to two olive drab plastic chairs) out of his way, and sat on the back stoop to wait for him to finish.
When we were finished, and we were back inside, we sat at the table, and he said, “In a minute I’m going to go check your work, and then, if you’ve done a good job, you can pick a toy and go fuck yourself.”
Of course, he had to crack a joke about telling me to go fuck myself. I got all squishy inside, anyway. There’s just something about him checking up on me that strikes a nerve deep inside my mind. And who doesn’t love rewards? Especially of the sexual nature.
He checked my work, and when he came in, he said, “Shower. Then pick a toy.”
In the shower, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Surely, he wasn’t just going to let me fuck myself while he watched. That’s just not something he does. Much. And definitely not lately. I mean, how many people do you know who can watch their lover masturbate and not get horny themselves? I don’t know any.
I finished up, turned off the shower, and flung open the shower curtain, and there was Master in all his naked glory.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Go pick a toy and wait for me.”
What I wanted to do was pull out Buzz and ride it and my fingers to bliss, but alas, I had an obligation to give Liv 2 another go. That’s the only downside of this whole sex toy reviewing thing. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the masturbation session you want to have for the masturbation session you have to have to meet your deadlines.
The cats follow me everywhere, so I was playing with them when Master got out of the shower. When he kicked them out of the bedroom, my theory that he wasn’t just gonna let me fuck myself was confirmed. Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to the edge of the bed.
This is a new thing. One day, he came in the bedroom, and I was laying on my stomach with my head hanging off the edge of the bed, and he just stuffed his cock in my mouth. He also paddled and whipped me, and it was awesome, and I told him so, so I wasn’t overly surprised he wanted to do it again.
This time, he pulled out the kangaroo flogger. I think there’s something wrong with it. It was way more stingy than usual. He almost made me cry with it, and that’s unusual.
Okay, there’s not really something wrong with it. It had to be how he was hitting me, or how I was laying. But man! I had a hard time staying still. The first time it cracked down on the cusp of my ass, I whimpered and tried to get away.
“Don’t you dare take your mouth off my cock, cunt,” he said.
No. No, I wouldn’t dream of doing that. I can’t even imagine the punishment I’d get. When it happens by accident, he whacks me pretty hard with whatever’s in his hand. I think if I did it on purpose, I’d be one hurt puppy.
While I sucked, he whipped, and then he reached over my back and pulled my legs apart. I cringed, but shifted so he had better access to my pussy.
Alternating between whipping my ass and my pussy, he was talking to me. Taunting me. Asking if I was a pussy. So I steeled my resolve, and rose to the challenge.
“You’re gonna need another shower,” he told me with a smile in his voice as he pulled his cock out of my mouth and smashed his balls in my face.
“Good little ball sucker,” he said, when I started licking and sucking for all I was worth.
And then he came all over my face and in my ear. MY EAR! What the fuck, Chuck?!
“NOW, you can pick a toy and fuck yourself,” he said, then threw his boxers in my face so I could use them to get the cum out of my ear.
I rolled onto my back, and picked up Liv, determined to make her work for me this time. I started on a lower setting than I had the previous time, spread my legs and slid her between my pussy lips. I felt like a newbie toy user learning to masturbate all over again as I prodded around for my clit and thrust Liv in my hole.
He never let up. He whipped my tits, pussy, and thighs as I muddled my way through relearning how to get myself off with a vibrator. A couple of the strokes hit Liv dead on. Believe it or not, that was the best part.
And then I had a light bulb moment, and within seconds, I was cumming. And it was good.