Dark Maggie #03

Before she finally took me for good and all, my Mistress would send me panties. They were to 'inspire' me to write for her, among other things. She liked to remind me that I was still her servant, in spite of the fact that she was (at that time) a married woman, and I was in a relationship as well.

Both her marriage and my relationship were so vanilla that there were bean specks all through them. But we had both tasted the tastier fruit of the BDSM tree; and it can be pretty addictive. It tortured both of us, separately and together. She told me later that her masturbatory fantasies outstripped her sex life with her husband, and certainly my girlfriend couldn't even hold a candle to Mistress, even a Mistress of remembrance only. And some nipple clamps.

Of course, if it were only sex, it would have been easier to deal with. But no, it had to be more complicated than that. Mistress was (and is) the only woman I had ever known that matched me in virtually every way - intellectually, politically, you name it. Sexually? Well, uh, yeah...only beyond my wildest fantasies. The long and the short of it was that she had ended the relationship; I still loved her.

When I had heard she was married, I tried to completely close my mental doors on her. It failed. Of course, even the ring on her finger wasn't enough to keep her from chatting with me from time to time, and occasionally phone. So hope would sprang eternal.

And now the panties. And the stories. She had started with a nice thong, with a combination of lovely scents on them. Something that smelled like perfume, or perhaps a sachet from her undie drawer, and, faintly, her lovely, lusty personal scent. The scent that would turn off my brain.

And that was the problem. That scent...oooh that lovely smell. I would pull out the panties and bury my face in them, snuffling and licking like some crazed beast. My brain would turn off, my cock would stiffen, and my sole thought was the name I would moan into the cloth.

Her name.

Over and over, in fact...it might even become a chant, in a way. Or a prayer, perhaps. That's it - a prayer.

In return for this amazing scrap of cloth, she had asked for another story of my submission and surrender to her. It took a few days to come up with one, but I had finally finished it, and sent it off. She loved it, and a few days later - another pair of panties. This time old and worn...and smelling a lot less like sachet and a lot more like, well, paradise. In fact, she wrote that she masturbated in them, and got them as sopping wet as she could before sealing them in a ziploc, and sending them off.

I lost all control when I got them, again behaving like a beast...and her juices flooding my nostrils and then my tongue...oh god, I came, and came and came. For days I gorged myself on her. And I followed her directions that she wrote me in the email she sent me after she sent the package, and would call out "I am Mistress' slave . . .I belong only to Mistress . . .I will always obey Mistress . . . I will make Mistress a good wife . . ." as I played with myself, the panties over my face, nipple clamps biting me, my left hand clutching at my balls occasionally. And I never failed to lick up all my goo, just as Mistress instructed. I even sent her a picture of me licking my hand clean, she loved that one.

And the stories continued to flow from me... detailing the utter submission and willing slavery of a man to a woman. And with every story, the reward, and new instructions. Before long, it occurred to me that I was not only her willing slut, but she was conditioning me to be ONLY hers, no one else's.

And I didn't mind a bit - in fact it excited me all the more. I even became a willing participant in the exercise. As time progressed, it became more and more obvious to me that when Mistress called, I would come; in any sense of the word.

We continued to email back and forth, and chat; and stories flowed out, and panties and other unmentionables flowed in. Sometimes pictures flowed back and forth, and our love and connection and lust just grew and grew.

One day, it happened. We both had known it would. She couldn't take it anymore - her husband was out of town for some meeting or other for his corporation, and she'd declined his invitation to be his arm candy for the obligatory group dinner.

"They bore the fuck out of me," is what she said to me later.

My girlfriend had been at her house that weekend, about 70 miles from me. I'd gotten an email from Mistress the night before, asking me to meet her online Saturday morning, she wanted to chat.

And chat we had...an epic chat, in fact. Finally, after about 3 hours online, there was a pause in her writing, and my cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Honey, I can't stand it . . . I know I shouldn't do it, but I have to see you...it's only gonna be one time, baby, you know that...but I can't stand it. I have to see your eyes. I want your blood, and your tongue." Wow. I didn't know what to say.

Yes I did. "I'm right here, Mistress . . . I am always yours," I'd said.

She showed up about an hour later, and when I let her in, she looked like she was still debating whether or not she should be here.

So, once the door closed, I dropped to my knees and said, "Welcome, Mistress."

"Get up," she said. I pulled myself to my feet, and suddenly was engulfed by her. Her lips fused to mine, her tongue hit my brain, and I was lost. I moaned like a helpless little girl, and felt my very essence surrender to her. It was amazing, that kiss.

"Strip, my bitch," she said, as she licked my ear gently.

My clothes were off me almost before she finished speaking, and she stepped back and looked at me.

"I'm gonna put you on a diet. I want you skinnier," she mused. "On your knees, you slut."

I instantly dropped back to my knees, and I looked up at her attentively. "Alright, baby...time to show you again who your owner is." Her voice was not loud, but there was no argument. Her shirt came off, then her bra (God, I love her nipples) and finally her jeans. My eyes focused on the panties that were suddenly revealed...they were soaked.

She pulled my head into them, rubbing my face all over the sodden fabric. "That's the smell of your owner, baby...say it for me, say it for Mistress..." she softly cajoled.

"Oh god, Mistress, yes Mistress, you are my owner, my only owner...I am only for you, my Mistress, for no other but you..." my voice trailed off, I didn't know what else to say; I was hers, and only and irrevocably hers, and we both knew it. Of course, we had both known it before she even walked in the front door. She pulled my face out of her panties, and yanked them all the way down, then stood up, the sopping fabric dangling from her hand.

Her face was glowing with love and arousal; a beautiful combination of sweaty lust mixed with pure joy, an evil glint in her eye from what she had planned, combined with a motherly love to protect and cherish me. Man, I really was lost, and man, I really loved it. And her.

Her hand came forward...she held the panties against my mouth...I opened, she slid them inside. "Clean them, bitch...clean them well...suck all that Mistress juice out of them...every drop makes you more mine," she said, almost hypnotically.

She pulled me back up...and told me to fetch her the strapon. I almost ran for it. She'd told me which one she wanted me to buy, some months back, and had directed me on many occasions over chat or phone to fuck myself with it...but she hadn't even seen it yet. I prayed it was clean...and it was...I ran back with it, hit my knees, presenting it to her.

She looked at me sternly. "Put it on me, you little sissy...show your Mistress you know what to do with her cock."

I put it on her, slowly adjusting it for the correct fit, half the length of the dildo would bury itself inside her, once I attached it. The harness took a moment or two to get right, then it was time for the dildo.

"Get it wet first, my sissy slut...suck that dildo for your owner," she growled...I could tell she was really getting into it deeply.

I laved it all over with my tongue, and pulled it into my mouth, getting it nice and wet. Then, carefully, I slid it into Mistress' soft warm beautiful wetness. She sighed as it went in, and moaned when I snapped it in place.

Her eyes pulled back into focus on my face a moment later. "Better get the other part wet too, my little bitch boy...I'm about to finally make you my wife," she said, her arousal practically dripping off every word.

I sucked my sissy boy best, got it as wet as I could, and then she slid it away. Her hand closed around the base, and she jiggled it gently. "Alright, my slave...time for the real deal. Get some pillows over here," she said, gesturing at the sofa.

I pulled over a few, she placed a couple under her knees, some under mine, and tossed the last one over my head onto the floor.

"Put your head on that, whore, I don't want to hear any screams," she groaned, as she began to rub the moist dildo on my ass.

I did as I was told, glad to have something to bite into, if necessary. She rubbed the head of the big black dildo up and down...slowly working it against my tight hole. She wedged it in slightly, my teeth clenched; and then she relaxed slightly, and began to work the head around and around, slowly pulling at the tight little portal until it finally began to relax. A little further in, and a lot more swivelling around. It didn't hurt...in fact it felt pretty good, and the deeper she got, the better it felt.

I felt bad for a moment, feeling like she was pleasuring me at her expense, and then was reminded (by her slowly increasing-in-volume moans) that the other end of the dildo was inside her, and moving exactly opposite to what was happening inside me.

"Oh fuck, you little slut," she moaned, "Your ass feels so good...I love fucking you...oh baby I missed this so much...oh you are such a sissy whore for me...oh god baby . . . I'm coming already...." And she was; the words got incoherent, and her movements erratic, and finally, she collapsed across my back, her big beautiful brown jewels crushing against my back.

"Ummm...oh my little white slave boy...oh god you made your Mistress come, baby..." She fell off to one side, pulling me over with her. She was still inside me, just barely. She held me to her, kissing, licking and biting at my shoulders slowly. Suddenly, she slid the dildo back in, my ass having been relaxed. She fumbled around her waist, I heard a soft curse or two, and then she rolled away, leaving the harness and dildo behind. She gestured at me to raise up, and she slid herself under my head, her dripping, swollen mound suddenly just below me.

"Wiggle your ass around on that dildo while you lick your Mistress, wifey-boy. Once I've come once or twice more, I may get back to getting your sorry ass off. I've been wanting to watch you lick up your come in person for a long while, now." She let her head fall back onto the pillows, and pulled my hands up to her nipples. I rolled and pulled at them softly while I buried my face in her essence.

I didn't 'go to town' on her...not right after she'd already come. Instead I licked slowly, long strokes, covering her entirely. Her lips really were swollen, and as I delved deeper, they seemed to softly close over my face, like they were pulling me in. Licking slowly like that, I felt her come 3 more times in the next half hour or so. I paused after each one, then would tentatively begin licking again, and soon her hands would be back on my head, pulling me into her.

But finally, she pulled my head away, and panted, "Get up here and kiss me, fool." She lapped at my face as we kissed, and soon, both of our faces were moist and redolent of her magical smell. We lay together, making out slowly and thoroughly...and then her hand found my cock...and started toying with me. Her other hand began wandering as well.

Before too long, I found myself on my back, her teeth working at my nipples, her hands flowing over me like water, poking at my ass, grabbing and clutching my balls, and generally making me whimper in pain and desire. She held me at the razor's edge for a while, and finally put me over the edge when she raised up from the nipple that she had been pulling and biting and working so very very hard at, and I looked at her mouth, her lovely mouth...and it was moist with my blood. I looked up into her eyes...and saw only myself, helpless inside her, totally lost to her, body, mind, and soul. Then she kissed me...and I lapped at my own blood on her lips as I cried out her name as I came, the most amazing, soul searing beauty of an orgasm I had ever had.

She spent the night, but left the next morning after a quiet breakfast. It was months before I would actually see her in person again.

But the stories got ever hotter...and I began to run short on good hiding places for her lingerie, which I began wearing under my clothes on a daily basis.

I was hers, again.