Working Day

"Good girl." She said, "Now come up here." She moved her body up towards the pillows and reached for a tissue and lipstick that stood on the window ledge. Soon she had repaired the smears caused by my attentions to her wet pussy. Having put the make up back she paused and looked at me. I felt her eyes taking in every inch of my body, over my long hair, glossed lips, my breasts, my pubes, my long legs and down to the black heels on my feet.

"Come and lie on your side." She said softly, "I want to look at you."

I did so, gazing at her. I leaned on my elbow and she ran her eyes slowly along the length of my body. She reached out and stroked my hair, tracing the strands to the bare skin of my shoulders. Her hand slid down my side, over my hip and along my leg, slowing even more as her hand glided over my stockings. Her hand began to return brushing the skin of my bare thigh and over the band on my thong. It slid over the front of the thong, sliding so very lightly, brushing my cock hidden behind the material on the way. Her hand moved up my belly and traced the shape of my breasts. Her fingers grazed outside the fabric of the garment that contained them and then they slid just a tiny amount into the top of the garment, stroking the bare skin of my small tits. My eyes half closed and my lips widened. I took a breath to control the excitement that had shot through my body. She smiled. Knowing not only that she had the power, but exactly what to do with it. Her hand pressed against my shoulder.

"Lie back." She told me. "You're such a pretty girl and I want to play with you a little."

I turned on my back, one arm placed behind my head, one leg raised so my foot was on the bed. A demure, wanton look, I hoped. I hoped it would please. She gazed, brushing her fingers gently up the length of the leg that lay on the bed. Over the bare thigh. She watched my face as her fingers glided over the flesh, my lips parted and she drank in the sight of the firm, pink lips all-too revealing of the excitement that they betrayed. I felt her fingers carry on towards my sex; my hot, throbbing cock that loved to be a clit. My wet ass that needed to be fucked the way that all girls want to have their cunts fucked. It was hard to be controlled, to not move as she touched me. Flashes of insane and wanton thoughts flashed through my head; my hands tied to the bed, my legs wide and raised up. My Mistress sliding her strap-on cock into me, watching my face, relishing my pleasure as she finalised her slut's feminisation.

In my thoughts I cried out, begging her to fuck me, to use me. To watch how her cock excited my clit and how wet my pussy was to accommodate any cock that she wanted to push into me. I begged her to take me, to treat me the way that any lust-filled man would want to take the beautiful slut who was his for the taking. I begged to be allowed to show her how much I would do and I hoped that she would tell me how she wanted me to suck her client's cock as she fucked me, hoped that she would force me to deep throat his tool and lick his balls. Hope that she would order me to slide my pink, girl's lips along his shaft and to use my soft hands with painted fingers to wank him off into my mouth. The more she touched me the more excited I became, aching for more than the soft touch of her fingers. She knew what she was doing though and played me, not played with me, she played me...drawing lust and desire and wonderful torment through every pore in my body. She smiled as I tried not to buck my hips to meet her hand, as I tried not to move my hand to play with myself, as her fingers trailed slowly back down my other leg.

My breath was coming in short gasps, ever muscle in my body ached with the wonderful excitement, built up over several hours now. My eyes were half closed, my mind partially with her, feeling every movement of her body, watching her, feeling her light touch. The other part of my mind was a frenzy of lust, of thoughts and visions of being my Mistresses' slave, her maid, her toy...tied, leashed, shackled; in whatever position I was doing as I was told...guided but certainly not under duress...I so desired to be told, to seem to be forced...but I was aching to do all the things that were required of me. I would be her lover, her man, her slave, her maid, her slut, her whore. There was no separation of the role...I was all these things because she wanted it...and because I needed it.