I laid my head in his lap as we watched the last few minutes of the first half. He fisted his hand in my hair and ground his hips against my cheek. With each thrust, I could feel his cock growing harder, until it strained against the fabric of his boxers.
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and squeezed. Not tight enough to hurt. Just tight enough to let me know who’s boss. And as I lay there, I could feel his cock pressing against my face, his precum already wetting my cheek.
“What are you?” he asked.
I knew the answer to this. He’d just told me minutes before. But I couldn’t find the memory in my cock-fogged brain. I panicked for a brief second, racking my brain for my new title. His hand tightened ever so slightly as the word I was missing came to me.
“A fucktoy cunt,” I breathed in relief. Read more…
“I think you should go figure out a way to lay on the bed with your ass in the air without hurting your shoulder.”
It almost sounds like a suggestion, or even a request, but it was neither.
I wound my hair up into a sloppy bun and pinned it in place before making my way to the bedroom. The Wedge was already out, so getting into position simply meant putting it in the middle of the bed and kneeling over it. I pulled my pillows over, too, to help support my upper body so that all my weight wasn’t resting on my shoulders, and snuggled in.
He took his sweet time joining me. Anticipation is a motherfucker. And as I knelt there, my ass lifted and thighs spread, I could feel it building in my stomach. Which, of course, translated to slippery heat building in my cunt. Read more…
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. Read more…
“No, I’m not getting this out to play with you,” he said, as he moved the stack of erotica off the Neon Wand box, and took off his wedding ring.
“No fair!” I yelled, as I continued to go about my business.
“Why would I try it on you first? That’s dumb,” he retorted.
“You’re such a good dom,” I said, rather patronizingly. Master tries everything first. Video games, books, cooking some new recipe we’ve found…he sees it as his right as the master. I suppose he’s right, but I don’t have to be happy about it.
If you’re about to say I should be happy if he’s happy, just stfu. I know you know I know this.
“Well, if I’m going to cause excruciating pain,” he said, “I want it to be intentional.”
Gee, I thought as I watched him run the toy up and down his arms and legs. Thanks. Read more…
“So are you gonna go get on the bed so I can fuck you, or were we just gonna sit here?”
Master’s such a romantic, isn’t he?
“Actually,” he called out just as I was walking past the bathroom door, “why don’t you get in the shower, first?”
It wasn’t actually a question. And as I unbuckled my cuffs, I heard him get up off the couch and start taking his clothes off.
I climbed in, and just as I was finished shaving, Master climbed in behind me and hogged all the water. I’d expected there to be some shower silliness, but he was a man on a mission, so I washed up and got out. I dried off, and waited for the last little bit of lingering moisture to evaporate from my wrists and ankles, then buckled the cuffs on. I considered not putting on the ankle cuffs, but then I remembered that I was wearing them because he’d ordered me to…in a round about way. Read more…
“Rayne,” he called from the shower.
For a moment, I toyed with the idea of yelling “What?” from the kitchen, but our shower is loud, and it’s made so much louder by our high ceilings. He wouldn’t have heard me.
“Yes?” I asked, as I pushed open the bathroom door.
“Go get the cane out, and bend over the bed. Just wait there.”
“Yes, Master,” I replied, as that odd mixture of anxiety and excitement I get when I know he’s going to play with me built up between my stomach and diaphragm. Read more…