Go get a toy so you can fuck yourself.
No, I’m not telling you to go get a toy so you can fuck yourself–though you can, if you want. That’s how last night started.
(P.S. It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these, so cut me some slack.)
“Go get a toy so you can fuck yourself. I need entertainment.”
He was on a conference call with one of our closest friends (who he also happens to work with) and a customer, and his part of the job was done. The phone was on mute, but the windows were open. I’m pretty sure I turned five shades of red in five seconds flat. The idea of me being his entertainment gets me every time.
I was watching Jenna Marbles and her boyfriend being silly on YouTube. He was busy and I had nothing better to do.
In his mind, there’s always something better to do. He doesn’t like it when I watch videos unless he’s so busy he literally can’t be bothered. He likes to be able to talk to me and not feel like he’s interrupting something. In short, he feels like watching videos takes my attention away from where it should be; on him.
And, I mean, he’s kinda right. I get pretty into it. I’ve been known to spend a whole day going through the archives of Button Poetry and getting nothing else done.
He would be less annoyed by this if I actually asked permission before doing it. But I never do. It’s never a conscious thing. I see a link, click it, and then off I go, up YouTube Creek without a paddle. I’ve done it twice while writing this.
So when he said, “Go get a toy…” the only surprising part was that I’d managed to get through the video I’ve been trying to watch for a week (YouTube kept spewing errors) before he said it.
Well, and the “go get a toy” part. There hasn’t been a lot of kinky stuff in the months since his back started bothering him, and most of it has been tame compared to the stuff we used to get up to. It’s not a lack of desire so much as a lack of ability. And because we’d toned things down for a while to appease the crazy bitch who lives inside my head, and we’d toned things down for a while because we had kids living over us instead of a crack house beneath us, and then his back happened, it’s been a really long time since we’ve done anything like hanging me up for hours so he can play with me at his whim, or taking turns hurting me and fucking me with toys.
It’s been a really long time since I’ve been whipped the way that he used to whip me.
When it’s been a really long time, the first time is almost just like the actual first time.
I put my iPad aside, and left the living room to find my Tantus Buzz. I returned with it, and began slowly fucking myself with it, and he seemed annoyed. After maybe 10 strokes, he sent me after a pair of clamps.
“Put them on your nipples and then fuck yourself some more.”
I did as instructed, and he played with the chain as I slammed the dildo inside my cunt. The only way to fuck yourself, when Master’s being mean, is hard and fast. Of course, hard and fast places me teetering right on the edge faster than anything else, and he has impeccable timing. I was on the edge of the edge when he took the clamps off my nipples and said, “Put them on your cunt lips.”
Have you ever fucked yourself with clover clamps on your labia? Fucking ow! As if the pinch of the clamps isn’t enough, unless you’re super flexible and the clamps are held apart somehow, there is no way to fuck yourself without jostling them with every thrust.
I slowed way down, trying to minimize the pain.
“Don’t you like fucking yourself, cunt?”
“Yes, Master,” I whimpered, knowing what was coming next.
He grabbed the chain and pulled the clovers up and out of the way, which, of course, increased the pinch and the pain. He growled, “Then fuck yourself.”
My pussy clenched, and I was so wet it was difficult to hold on to the dildo. I adjusted my grip and resumed fucking myself the way he wanted me to (hard and fast) while he played with the chain.
It was excruciating and delicious. When his call ended, he dropped the chain, said his goodbyes, and went into the bedroom in search of the cane and a crop.
We were watching Sex and Submission. Some girl was getting her ass electrocuted and whipped. And he said, “You know that’s you, right? Just a piece of pussy for me to play with.”
Of course I know that. Anything more than that is an allowance; a privilege that he can take away at any moment. I get off on being that. I get off on knowing that he will always do precisely what he wants with me because that’s what I asked (continue to ask) him to do.
He kept making me tell him I wanted to be hurt more. And I did. But I would sit and take whatever he had to give because that’s what I promised him. Maybe not gracefully, but I’d take it. And he’d make me tell him I want it even when I’d really had enough because I do want it even when I’ve had enough, and it’s a mind fuck to be forced to tell him that while I’m warring with the desire in my head.
When he does this, he doesn’t always fuck me. He did last night, but it was more about owning my hole completely than fucking me. He was just fine with having me service his cock and his body with my mouth and hands; reminding me that I am still sexual property, and he’ll use me however it pleases him.
It hasn’t escaped me that he’s retraining my mind to go where he wants it to go with little to no effort on his part. Teaching it to accept “horny” as neutral, and revolve around making him feel like a king.
(Him [singing along with Eminem]: ‘Why be a king when you can be a god?’ You know, that’s true.
Me [obviously missing a moment]: Huh?
Him: He says, “Why be a king when you can be a god?” I’m your god.
Me [rolling my eyes]: We’ve already determined this. Where were you?)
He took the clovers off and played with my cunt, his fingers doing magic tricks with my clit. Then he told me to lay over his knees so he could cane me. And cane me he did. He caned my ass and thighs while I was over his knees with his cock thrusting between my tits. He caned my back and sides while I was sitting on the couch next to him licking his chest and neck, and while I was kneeling on the floor stroking his cock and licking his thigh.
I’d cry out and try to twist away. He’d grab me by the hair and force me to hold still. I sobbed and trembled and licked and stroked and…wished for more.
Then he asked, “Should I just cum now, and get it over with, or do you want me to hurt you more?”
The question went straight to my clit, and my stomach lurched. I calmed myself enough to whimper breathlessly, “Hurt me more, Master.”
“Then get your ass in the bedroom,” he growled, and I went to the room to wait.
I fixed my hair so it was out of the way. I fidgeted. And then he came in and pressed my mouth against his neck and slipped his fingers between my thighs. I rocked against him and moaned into his skin. He locked my wrists behind me and shoved me face first into the mattress.
He brought the cane down on my ass, and thighs, and when he was done, snapped, “Up!” meaning I should resume the position he most likes to fuck me in. His cock slid in easily, as I was creating a puddle beneath me. He thrusted hard and fast while whipping my ass and thighs.
He backed away, and there was a tap-tap-tapping at my vulva which steadily increased into fire. And then he massaged my clit some before telling me to get on the bed on my side. My arms were already falling asleep. I’m not the most flexible person in the world. Having my arms trapped behind my back is painful and frightening…and it turns me on.
I lay on the edge of the bed, my breasts spilling over the side, and my hip cocked just so to keep me from teetering off. He placed himself in front of me and fucked my tits and rubbed off on my belly while he caned my back and thighs. Then he climbed on the bed behind me, and slid his cock inside me, fucking me from behind.
Without him to aid my balance, I strained to stay on the bed knowing that if his cock suddenly wasn’t in my pussy anymore because I’d fallen off the bed, I’d be punished.
Then he asked, “If I let you go, will you kiss me?”
It wasn’t a request. It was a test to see how willing to please I was. The second he freed my hands, I fell to kissing and licking and suckling his neck and chest and stomach for all I was worth to show my gratitude.
“Give me your pussy,” he said. “I think you’d like it if I played with it.”
I spun around and placed my mouth on his balls as his fingers found my clit. This is a new thing of his. He says it’s to teach me that he’ll use me however he wants with little regard to my pleasure. He only plays with my pussy while I suck his balls because the way he’s able to play my body amuses him. He may not always let me cum when he’s finished.
This time, though, he did. And on his fingers, too, which is a huge honor. It means I performed admirably when he whipped me. He only makes good girls cum.
I came long and loud and I have stomach and back aches today from the contortions my body warped itself into as I frantically tried to get away from his fingers when my clit became hyper sensitive.
I think that’s his favorite part.
Before too long, he was ready to cum, too, and he ordered me on my knees on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, and pinned my head to his thigh with a well placed fist in my hair. And then he ejaculated all over my face and shoulder.
He ended the night with an order. “You’re gonna fuck yourself every day from tonight until you bleed (menstruation). And I don’t mean just rub your clit till you get off. I want something in that hole. Not even that hole is yours.”
I woke up this morning to him touching me everywhere. He said, “You were a good little fuck toy last night.”
And I beamed. I’ve been a happy, horny little slut all day. Good little fuck toy. That’s me.
I can think of no one I’d rather be.