tagBDSMCome for Me

Come for Me

byWmCutterBlack©

Of course, there was no one in her hometown she could relate to, let alone her few friends. So she bottled up all her urges and feelings during the day and, at night, alone in her apartment, she suffered the anguish of yearning.

There were occasional times when the frustration boiled over into anger. There were other times when she cried. And there were many times, she simply sat on her couch and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

In desperation, when it got too much to resist, she would seek out the like-minded on the Internet, shrugging her shoulders and consoling herself that maybe there she'd find what she so wanted and needed. The chat rooms were fun, for a little time, and eventually she even tried out Second Life and its bizarre "stick figure sex" as she called it. But in the end, it never really gave her that much pleasure.

The problem was she needed to release her wantings, all of them, spiritual, mental, emotional, and, of course, physical. She really had exhausted all the options, so she felt. She'd bought a few nice leather restraints and a collar, a few sex toys, but she couldn't get into masturbating without a real person commanding her what to do. And most of all, she felt empty doing "it" to herself unless she knew, for sure, that someone else was getting pleasure from it, too.

She knew about cyber and phone sex. Shyly, she'd logged in to a few of the cam-sites, but that was empty, too. Just guys jerking their cocks off and wanting her to talk dirty to them. It didn't satisfy her, so she soon dropped off those websites.

One night, frustrated as always, and trying to stir up some feelings by looking at dominant-submissive porn which somehow was pixilating oddly, she received an online message from someone she didn't know.

"Hi, I'm the sysop. You seem to be having some problems with receiving the images. I'll adjust them for you."

Shocked at first, she almost logged off. Oh, my god, she thought, a stranger knows I'm looking at this stuff. She took a deep breath and calmed herself a little before typing in the little message window. "It's okay. I was just leaving anyway."

"I want you to stay," the sysop replied. "You picked some of my favorite images to look at, you know. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes," she typed before she realized what she was doing.

"You're a submissive yourself, aren't you?"

She gasped. How could he even guess that? Again, her mind whirling, she typed in "Yes" and then with a shy smile added "Sir".

"Good," he replied. "Just a moment. Type in this URL. It's a special photograph just for us to share right now."

Her heart started beating faster and she didn't want to get creeped out, but she typed in the web address.

The picture showed a woman in shadows, kneeling on a carpet, a collar around her neck, hands behind her back.

"That's you," came the message. "Isn't it?"

She hesitated a moment, but as she looked at the picture closer, her fingers automatically typed "Yes, Sir."

"Good," he repeated.

As she continued to stare at the picture, it dissolved into a similar one, but now a dark man stood behind the kneeling woman.

"That's me," he typed.

Again, the photograph dissolved into a third. One of the man's hands gripped the woman's hair tightly, pulling her head back slightly while his other hand dropped to cup her left breast.

She trembled before her computer screen, closing her eyes for a moment and – not so surprising -- felt her own nipples grow more sensitive and erect.

"I want you..." he typed in the message box. "...to keep watching."

The feelings inside her swirled. She wanted to close the screen, log off, throw herself on her bed and cry, but at the same time, she wanted to follow his directions, to keep looking at what he was showing her. As she dithered what to do, the photograph in front of her dissolved again into another picture.

The man in the picture was now licking the kneeling woman's naked shoulder, the hand on her breast had slid downward and now cupped her bare pussy, his thumb obviously rubbing her clitoris. She couldn't help herself. She just couldn't and felt her own hand sliding between her parted thighs. A soft moan came from between her lips.

"I want you...like this," he'd typed in the message box.

Her fingers shaking, with one hand she typed "I...want..." She moved her free hand up and down, feeling the hot wetness of herself, both shocked and tingling. This was crazy, but it felt so good right now.

Again, the picture dissolved into another and another in rapid succession. A close up of the man's thumb on the kneeling woman's clit, then the thumb still there, two curled fingers between her pussy lips.

"I want you..." repeated his message. "...like this."

She groaned, slipping two fingers inside her pussy, curling them up and massaging just behind her clit. Her own thumb was rolling over her swollen clit.

"I want you...to move your fingers faster," he typed, "but keep the touch on your clit gentle and light."

Her hand slid from pinching a nipple and she replied, "Yes, Sir." Then she returned to rubbing her breasts while her other hand caressed her pussy and clit.

"I want you..." he repeated typing. "...to come for me."

Her body began trembling from head to toes, she felt the build-up and as she kept fingering herself, she shook violently and rushed over the top of the abyss and felt the orgasm take her. She was breathing in gasps and then slowly, so slowly, she felt herself calming down a little. Her hand, still sticky, settled over the keyboard.

"Oh, Sir," she typed.

"Good," he replied. "I'll expect you tomorrow night. I have other pictures. Tomorrow night, same time, yes?"

She shivered. Her fingers sought the keys again. "Yes, Sir."

The Next Night – Come for Me, Part 2

Awakening the next morning, she felt like two different people inhabited her body. Taking her usual shower, the flow of water on her skin made her feel more sensually responsive somehow. The warm spray and the sound, like falling rain, the rising steam, all conspired to remind her of last night's shuddering orgasm.

Her fingers moved over her body and she imagined a man's strong hands not just caressing but pressing harder and more urgently. She plucked at her nipples, groped between her legs more roughly.

"I want you...like this," her mind repeated. But before she built to an unstoppable climax, she let her hands drop away. Brushing her teeth, she examined the woman facing her in the mirror. Her eyes looked different to her now. Less tired and haunted, and yet, as she peered closer, some remnant of fierceness remained.

"I'm not like that," she told herself. "I'm not!"

All day at work, she felt distracted and uneasy as if something buried refused to stay that way, surfacing like an old injury to ache and make her twitch.

Somehow, she made it through the day and she tried to lose herself in music on the drive home, but as soon as she closed the door of her apartment and her eyes settled on the computer at her desk, something powerful rose up inside her and her knees sagged.

"This is ridiculous," she told herself, and yet, the craving to log on the website where she'd seen the photographs, interacted with the sysop, and experienced the strong flow of sexual need drew her.

She fixed herself a quick snack and later, before she realized what she was doing, she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped out of her skirt. Clad only in bra and panties, she sat at the computer and went to the website like before.

She scanned some of the recent photographs, some too extreme for her liking, then, startling her slightly, the message window opened. Her heart beat faster and her breathing ragged as the sysop wrote to her.

"I want you..." he typed to her, "...to keep watching."

The image on the screen faded to the original one she had seen last night: a woman in shadows kneeling on a carpet.

"This is you," came the message.

Already, as she read the words, she felt her nipples hardening and the heat between her legs increase.

A smile curled her lips upward. Fumbling fingers typed out a reply: "Yes, sir."

The photograph dissolved into another. A tall, strongly built man, naked to the waist, shadowed stood near the kneeling woman.

Below the waist, he wore snug leather pants. Between his legs, there was a large half-domed bulge and beside it another, long and tubular bulge, clearly outlining a cock.

She leaned closer to the computer screen and licked her suddenly dry lips.

"This is me," the sysop typed.

As she leaned back again, the photograph dissolved into a quick series of the man in the leather pants stepping closer and closer to the kneeling woman. As he stood over her, his hand bunched in the woman's hair and in the next series of dissolving photographs, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her across the room to a bed.

The images on her computer screen sharpened and grew more detailed in close-ups. She felt a tremble begin in her legs and she clenched her thighs together, resisting the urge to touch herself where the heat grew strongest.

In the photographs another series began in which the shadowed man threw the woman on the bed. He released her hair and wrapped and tied her wrists together in front of her. The woman neither struggled nor resisted.

In the next series, the man tied a cloth blindfold over the woman's eyes. And in the next, he pulled her legs into a spreadeagle and tied her ankles.

The woman had begun to writhe, her body shifting and her hips squirming. Then in more detailed close ups, the man, still shadowed, used a pair of scissors to cut the sides of the woman's panties, finally ripping them from her body.

As she watched the images on her computer screen unfold, she shuddered strongly and felt her breath choke and rasp. Now the heat in her own panties seemed unbearable and she pulled them down, lifting her ass from the chair. Her panties, already wettened slid to the floor.

"I want you...like this," the sysop typed, drawing a groan from her.

She squeezed her thighs together tighter and typed a reply. "Yes, sir."

She moaned as the next series of pictures showed the man's head lowering over the woman's pussy, then dissolved into extreme close-ups of the man's tongue licking up and down the woman's exposed labia, then the tip of his tongue swirled over the swollen clitoris.

As she watched the photographs, fascinated, she couldn't help herself. Her middle finger touched her own clitoris, rubbing it up and down and sometimes dipping down between her very wet pussy lips and then back up to rub her clit furiously.

"I want you...like this. Beneath my tongue," the sysop typed.

The woman in the photograph had begun to buck her hips upward, trying to grind herself on the man's tongue.

The photographs seemed to blur slightly as she half closed her eyes and thrust her own hips harder against her fingers. She was using two fingers tightly pressed together now and imitated the movements of the shadowed man's tongue. Her fingers slid wetly up and down her labia, sometimes slipping inside and then returning always to her round pulsing clitoris.

"I want you...to cum for me," the sysop typed.

The woman in the photographs finally arched her back like a tightly stretched bow, her mouth opening wide.

Almost oblivious to anything else, she stared at the computer and bit her lower lip, arching as the woman in the photograph and gasping as she felt the waves of orgasm rush through her whole body. She stiffened as she came and uttered a sharp cry: Ahhhhhhh!

She slumped back down to her chair as the photograph dissolved into darkness.

"I want you..." the sysop typed. "...to go shopping tomorrow."

Shaky and confused, she replied. "Shopping?"

"You know what I want you to buy," he answered.

"I...I don't understand. What should I..."

"You know," he typed. The screen showed the woman kneeling on the carpet again, now wearing black leather wrist cuffs and a matching collar.

"I don't..."

"I want you like this," he typed to her.

Her shoulders trembled and her head bowed as her fingers, shaky and hesitant, typed: "Yes, sir."

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