Imagine

byBelle_in_south©

The snow is starting to fall and the TV plays softly in the background, the flickering light of the images the only light in the room. I lay back, thinking of You, of this gift that You have given me. My body trembles lightly as my hands move over my breasts and stomach and thighs. My fingers comb through the thick hair at my sex, thinking of how my body belongs to You. I am no longer me, but I am what You want me and make me.

It has been too long and my body is eager. My nipples are already hard pebbles. My heart is drumming against my sternum. I concentrate on You. I think about kneeling before You, feeling Your loving fingers combing through my hair and touch my cheek. I can imagine Your husky, honey voice whispering roughly, “My sweet pet.”

My pussy lips are itching with desire and my clit is throbbing. I can feel lubrication seeping out of me in anticipation. I reach for my small vibrator, knowing that without You here penetration is not allowed. I slide it between my moist lips, pressing firmly against my clit and angling the head so that it lies lengthwise inside me. I flip the switch to low and moan, feeling the sensation shoot through my body. My nipples tighten more.

I think about Your cock, thick and heavy and long and hard. I think about the way it feels in my hands and how I love to wrap my lips around it. I imagine my head bobbing in Your lap while Your fingers comb tenderly through my hair.

As the pleasure increases, my mind begins hopping, going from one erotic image to another. I lift my knees, pulling my thighs apart, and begin stroking the vibrator up and down my clit in a steady, firm motion. My mind shuts out the sound of the television, but I am quiet, as we sometimes have to be.

My mind finally settles on one image and my stroking grows faster, rocking the head of the vibrator against my clit. The image in my head is the drawing of three bound girls. They all have ball gags in their mouths. I know what that is like, my teeth gripping the rubber ball, my lips stretched around it, unable to do anything but moan no matter how much pleasure or pain I feel.

My wrist works faster, pushing in and out against my pussy as I focus on the image. The three girls have their head bowed, their eyes lowered like good slaves. I think they are a little afraid. Perhaps they wonder how they had gotten into that situation. How had they come to the point where they are bound? Their hands are behind their back. They are on their knees. Were they willing participants or had they been forced into their training? Now each was chained to two other girls. Any movement from one would affect the other two.

Each girl is harnessed. They have identical leather bindings wrapped around their shoulders. The harnesses circle their breasts, exposing their young, perfect globes. Their nipples are hard. The picture does not show below the waist, but I am certain the harness continues down to embrace their thighs and frame their pussies.

Why are they there? I ask myself that question again and again. They are not in a dungeon. There is an end table and lamp sitting in the corner. They are there for show. They are on display. Is the Master or Mistress of the house simply showing off property? Those girls are property, just as I am Your property. My pussy, that is feeling so good now, is Your property. I would not be allowed to have the sweet sensation racing through my body without Your compassionate permission.

My mind latches suddenly onto a purpose for the girls. They are going to be sold. A wealthy buyer is coming and their Trainer has put the three best slaves on auction. The buyer will come in and inspect the girls thoroughly.

I still my hand, pressing the tip of the vibrator against my clit and squeezing it tight. My stomach is starting the quiver as the pleasure intensifies. I want to linger on the image for a few minutes. The Trainer comes through and selects them. They are cleaned and trimmed and prepared. They are stimulated so the scent of their arousal will please the buyer. During the inspection, the buyer will slide fingers into each of their slits, testing their dampness and feeling of their clit. The fingers will slide deeper, wanting to know how tight each of the girls is. That will be one of the things they use to measure the worth of the girls.

The girls know nothing of the buyer. The Trainer knows very little. The buyer is dressed in black. Even the buyer’s face is hidden. None of the buyer’s features is obvious. They cannot even tell if the buyer is male or female. Even if they could, the buyer may have sent a proxy to make the purchase.

Maybe the girls are required to put on a show for the buyer before they are brought to the room for the final purchase. I picture rooms with two way mirrors. The buyer stands on the outside of the room, watching as the girls are fondled. What does the buyer want? A docile girl will satisfy without question, but a feisty one will present more of a challenge.

The scenario is not finished in my mind. My hand has started rocking the vibrator again, scrubbing it up and down my swollen clit. My pussy grips at it and my body spasms. My climax is not mind blowing. I’m almost not certain that I did finish and I leave the vibrator pushed inside me.

I think I will never have a truly satisfying climax without being in Your presence again. Anytime I play without You nearby, even with Your permission, it is not as intense or as thrilling as when You are there. You are training me well, making more than my body Yours. My body belonged to You first, and then my heart fell into Your custody.

As I drift to sleep, I think again about the collar You showed me. I think about how the leather will feel against my neck, and how I will look when the light catches the silver embedded in the band. I think about how much I want to accept the gift of Your love and Your possession.

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