tagBDSMIf You Kiss Only Me

If You Kiss Only Me

byHisPossessed©

He'd decided to lie in that morning to luxuriate in his own limitless imagination. There were hours before he would leave for the train, so he stretched on his back, relaxed and warm under the sheet. Soon the images, some familiar, others unexpected, streamed before his closed eyes. There she was again, his slave, and he smiled at the imaginary version of her. She was still in her dress, but already on her knees, such was her hunger for her Master. Her mouth overflowing with the hot saliva the scent of him inspires, she bathed his cock with her tongue and welcomed him into her throat, softly biting from time to time because that's how he taught her and to express her fierce appetite for him. And then it wasn't only her, but another woman kneeling beside her, holding his slave's hair, guiding her fellatio.

His bisexual slut shared his fantasies of serving him by demonstrating her devotion in front of a woman they both found attractive and of the right mindset. The woman could observe their play until her arousal was apparent, then his slave would be expected to serve her at his instruction. His slave knows she is not the one who possesses, but does shift between arousal and the apprehension expressed by, "If it pleases you, Sir." She's jealous, he knows, and so left finding a woman to her; this woman would be her girlfriend first to keep his possession occupied in his absences.

He knew she'd drag her feet, but even if she'd searched obsessively, the chance of finding the right woman would be slim. Both Master and slave knew how rare it was that they happened to fit like hand in glove after she'd brazenly approached him online. It was hard enough for the two of them to meet for their encounters and to try and coordinate a third person... Still the impracticality didn't stop the kaleidoscope of female possibilities from playing through his mind. A brunette with full breasts and wicked eyes—just his slave's taste—now entered the perverse mental venue and he lay there enjoying the feeling of his own arousal, the rising erection touched only by the sheet. It was almost time to get up.

It would be better, anyway, to wait for his slave's service. He stretched his long limbs, let the fantasy girls evaporate, and left the humid bed to go to shave for the slave girl he'd meet later. Her Master shaves close so her pale face won't be rubbed too raw from the hours of kissing. He bathed and shaved again to better feel her exuberant tongue against his balls. The erection does help with the razor work... He stood to rinse and dress in the clothes that express who he is as her Dom, the ones that suit him so well and indicate to her he's different from other people. Knotting the black neck tie he recalled the look in her eyes sure to be there once again when she'd be untying it to undress him in a few hours.

The implements are all at her house by this point, so he can travel light. Passport, cash, iPod, straight razor and her Master was out the door. He thought of her in the crudest possible ways the whole trip north: The way she forgets her place when she sees him and throws her body against his at the station, the way she crawls for him on her lead to their room, leaking moisture down her thighs, and the delight in her voice at each chance to respond, "Yes, Sir." Any form he wants her service to take as the mood strikes him is possible when they are alone in their room, which makes every delay on the tracks all the more irritating. It had been too long since she was in his grasp and he was losing patience with the American rail system. To make it worse, there were obnoxious students seated behind him who seemed to think everyone would appreciate their humor. When he turned to tell them to shut their fucking mouths in his harshest voice, they did. Dom skills are useful for all sorts of situations.

The train was about half an hour late. His slave had no way to reach him and was letting a guy commiserate and flirt with her to keep her mind off the sinking feeling that something was wrong. She was only half-listening, but when he said, "Oh, here come some people now," she became alert and instantly spotted her Owner. Without a word, she ran to him, and hardly taking him in with her eyes, collided with him, passionately telling him of her relief to see him with motions of her tongue deep in his mouth. He smiled as he accepted this welcome—she is so predictable and was obviously overdue for her next training, which would start as soon as her more serene submission took over and she removed her fingers from the soft spikes of his hair.

He regained control of the kiss, leading with his tongue to slow hers, and bent her head back while still holding her close to put her off balance. He felt her body go more limp in his arms as she surrendered again; she did so a bit deeper each time.

"You're wet," he observed. A light rain was falling that smelled like the ocean. "It's a nice night, Sir. Would you like to walk a bit?"

He pulled her tight to his side and they set off to the blocks of bars where there would be taxis on a Saturday night. She nuzzled her head against him and he could feel the submissive contentment radiating from her. He was eager to get his hands on her in more perverse ways and speculated about how long they would walk before a shadow presented itself, but there was a taxi right over there...

He opened the door for her. His slave crawled in in her clumsy way, as if she had never worn a dress before, giving him a flash of bare skin above her stockings. 'She is sluttier than she knows. And she's mine,' he thought to himself. In the back of the cab, his hand was easily up her dress and her legs fell open for him naturally as they talked.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sir." Her eyes glittered with what could be lust or tears. "I know you miss your Owner," he said in his soothing voice. The tension from travel receded in her calming presence. He slid his hand further up her inner thigh. "Possessed," he told her, using the name that's become more real to her than her given name, "I have a surprise for you."

He knows she doesn't like surprises, and was being a bit cruel in wanting to see her reaction. Her every thought is visible to him on her face and he wants to see how she will react. Just as he expected, her eyes widened and she blushed as she does when she's confused, but she recovered quickly.

"I have one for you, too, Sir." "Is it something I will have to punish you for?" "I don't think so. But I hope it makes you want to!" "Just so long as you obeyed my other instructions, surprises are acceptable."

Something was different in his Possessed this time. Though her Master liked to be surprised, being far more fearless than his slave, he did think there was something out of character in her behavior; talking about surprises was unlike her and her voice had a peculiar edge to it.

They arrived at her apartment. Instead of rushing to get in the door like she always did, his slave did not reach for her keys—she reached for him to give him a long, expressive kiss full of a meaning the felt almost like goodbye. He realized, as she caressed him and pulled him down to meet her lips, that they would not be alone once on the other side of the door. This was a last moment of privacy, maybe a plea for leniency if she had chosen badly in this surprise. When he pulled away he gave her such a knowing look she could not meet his gaze and turned key in the lock quickly to escape this painful shyness, to have just a moment with his back turned as he entered.

"I hope you didn't worry we weren't coming back," his slave said to the woman tied in the chair. "The weather caused delays." "You had to come back. You live here," the stranger said with a teasing smile, while looking only at the Master, not the slave. The woman called Possessed took his coat, happy to be avoiding his gaze, watching her new friend observing with pleasure.

She walked to the closet, a smug little smile of sub pride on her lips. She was happy her captive didn't hide her approval of her Master and was aware she already looked more disheveled than when she left her girlfriend there an hour ago. When she returned, though, her Master had a disapproving look she'd never seen before. He still had not spoken.

"Possessed... You left her tied up unattended?" Her heart skipped a beat and she realized this situation was beyond her experience. Her new friend saved her. "No! It's not her fault... I wanted to be tied up, but she said we had to make sure I could get away if I had to... Sir." "So you aren't actually bound to that chair?" "No, Sir. I just want to be."

He exhaled and the concern was replaced with curiosity as he looked at his slave, who told him, "I am not as crazy as I seem, my Love." The jealousy she feared would overtake her simply was not there and she remembered her manners. "Sir, this is the girlfriend you sent me. Thank you." And then, asking for punishment: "You can touch her if you want to."

He looked at the beautiful bound woman and recalled the personal ad he'd forwarded to his slave months ago. Looking right in this stranger's eyes he said to his slave, "Are you giving me permission? Come here and I might forgive you for that."

She walked to stand between him and the woman here now because he made it happen. She knew his eyes were taking in this new person, so out of place where they are always alone and also just as they'd each imagined: Nothing like his slave. She was tall even seated, with more muscle and flesh than his possession. Her fair hair was dyed nearly black and elegantly cut to frame her appealing expression lines and dilated eyes. Her skin was light, but without the freckles and artwork of his slave. Her fashionable dress signified she's no fetishist, but it fit her well even as it rode up and slipped down with her breath. And she said she wanted to be restrained for real!

His slave whispered in his ear as she stood before him, "Isn't she pretty?" "Like her more than your Owner?" he whispered back, his gaze not straying from the strange woman. "No!" She laughed loud enough to cause her to turn to her girlfriend and smile as if to say, 'We are not laughing at you at all. You are lovely.' "I have a surprise for you, too, as you may recall," her Master said only loud enough that both women might hear. He saves his voice.

His slave was confused, expecting a punishment and not her surprise. He lifted her dress enough to signal she was to strip for him. Out of that little black dress, she looked in his eyes--they were so clear she was relieved he was in control of this scene she created and that he might even like it. "More?"

"No. That's enough, but you have to keep very still. Promise me." "Yes, Sir." "Good girl," he murmured and then slapped her ass hard when she instantly bent at the knees at those words. "I'm sorry, Sir. I can't help it." "I know you can't." That kind control—so unique—made her want to melt again, but the slave held rigidly still. There were two people watching her this time—an added pressure.

This close to her Owner, she felt movement against his body and wondered if he was not going to allow her to undress him this night. She felt defeated, like she had disappointed him in some way, and fought her own weakness not to slouch down from insecurity... But he was not getting out of his clothes yet, just removing her special treat. He did enjoy the sight of the spasm in the stranger's shoulders; his clever smile telling her, 'Go ahead and prove you really want to be tied to that chair.'

Arms around his mostly naked slave, he ran the flat of the straight razor down her spine. "Don't worry," he said, more for the wide-eyed woman in the chair than for the still slave relaxed because she knew just what that was, even without having seen it, "I won't use this to cut you."

The fear in the eyes of their guest took on a different color. It was clear she wouldn't be hurt, didn't have to bolt for the door, but the realization slowly came over her that she has spent years missing out on these unusual pleasures. She watched this man, exactly as her girlfriend had glowingly described him, run the blade so gently against her girlfriend's vertebrae, under the shoulder blades that protruded as she'd put her arms around her Owner's neck. 'I should have been doing this all along...' the slave's "surprise" told the Master with her eyes. The possessed whore felt something pass between her Owner and her new lover and could only hope they did not just fall in love. He continued down his slave's back with the razor along the curve of her ass. The stranger indicated he nicked her girlfriend by the way she licked her lips.

There was a table close by and her Master instructed her to go to it. "You know what to do, my pet." "Yes, Sir." Her voice in substate is almost a whisper. She bent over the table, touching her forehead to the surface, her ass raised by her four inch heels. Her Owner ran his fingers over her hair, stroked her back slowly to make her purr, moved his fingertips down to her buttocks and the thin line of blood she did not feel. He touched his fingers to his lips to taste.

The slave was motionless except for shivering. Her Master took on a reflective aspect, losing himself in the patterns of the blade he made without a trace on her helpless body. She looked more vulnerable now that he knew she'd given him her complete submission; he was the only one she truly loved and he allowed himself to become lightly hypnotized by the path his blade took along her ribs, down to the tension of her bent waist. It was so quiet, as if no one even breathed. The only reality was the serpentine path of the razor as it found its way gracefully up to her neck where it came to rest. He held the blade still for a long moment against her throat and felt it conduct the currents of her surrender and his Dominance between them. She had been worried the presence of another could damage their intimacy and he had to show her that was not possible.

"Tell me what you are." "I'm your slave, Sir." The pressure of the blade made her feel her words as she spoke. "And you love your Master," "Yes. I love you, Sir." She loved any invitation to get to say the words.

With that, he put the object out of sight to break the spell.

He drew back his hand and swung it forward in a practiced motion to connect with her flesh in a loud slap. The first few don't hurt until the skin is sensitized to a rose red, so her reaction was just to moan toward the sexual pleasure of a spanking. Her Master dipped his fingers to her dripping cunt to paint her with thick wetness, making a smacking sound to fill the room, fill the alert ears of their guest. His riding crop was within reach and he picked it up, reacquainting himself with its feel in his hand, its power, and the effect just the suggestive touch of its tip to her skin had on his slave. Instantly, she tensed and prepared for a more painful form of contact.

Her Owner was still deciding where the mood would take them, however, and turned to consider the woman in the chair.

"Struggle out of those ropes Possessed put you into." "Yes, Sir," the woman said in an apprehensive tone that revealed she hoped only for more pleasure and was unsure she wanted to leave the security of her light bondage and voyeuristic vantage point.

He watched her try to wriggle her arms free from behind her back while trying to keep the straps of her dress from falling completely from her shoulders. It appeared she could not win both struggles, and he smiled at her discomfort in knowing her breasts would be revealed if she were to obey him. The rolling motions of her developed shoulders were very attractive. From the corner of his eye he saw his slave turn her head to peek. Not even looking, he startled her with one of his sharpest tones, "Head down!" Her head was instantly resting once again on the table.

Their guest also bent her head to watch the smooth fabric of her dress finally slip below her nipples. When her hands were free she folded them in her lap, at first looking modest, and then, adjusting to her exposed state, she met his eyes. Her mouth fell open a little as he strode toward her; she was not expecting to be close to him at all. He knelt before her and untied the ropes that bound her ankles. He could have made her do that, but he wanted to tease her with near contact, undo the ropes without touching her skin. He wanted his face near her open legs to smell her. He breathed in the strong scent of her arousal and tried not to look too pleased.

"Possessed, go get the blindfold." "Yes, Sir." And she did not hesitate to go get the eye mask from the bedroom. "Put it on your friend and lead her there," her Master said, pointing to a spot near the table, "and help her to kneel."

His slave looked into her girlfriend's eyes before covering them, putting her in total darkness. She gave her lips a kiss, moist and quick, and led her as instructed, gently pushing her down so that the side of her face was almost against the edge of the table. Now there would be no more words for a while, he had decided; though he did enjoy arousing his slave with the sound of his voice, better to keep their guest in the dark. He walked to where his slave stood waiting for him and gave her a deep audible kiss. Their tongues could be heard intertwining above his slave's contented sighs.

He gestured to her that he would like to be undressed, which she did more slowly and teasingly than usual, as fit the situation. There was a mischievous look in her eye as she removed her Master's clothes so slowly, daring him to speak. He is never angry that she sometimes actually plays when they are at play, but gave her a look to let her know she was asking for punishment.

There was little for the blindfolded woman to hear until Possessed unbuckled his belt so near to her face. The sound of a zipper was familiar, as was the masculine scent of his naked cock. Then there was the shampoo and smoke smell of her girlfriend's hair, and the feel of her leg pressed against her knee. The muffled sound of the slave's moan made it even clearer her face was pressed into her Master's groin. The idea of her girlfriend sucking cock was something she had not considered, having grown used to her oral attentions on her feminine body. Now she was hearing it, experiencing it so close without knowing what it looked like. She wondered if she would get to see her friend's Master without his clothes, if he was just as she pictured him...

She could hear the fellatio escalate, mostly from the slave's encouraging moans, some of them taking on a startled sound. She could hear her rapid breath through her nose and realized her girlfriend was being forcibly fucked in the mouth. She wanted to touch the slave's hair and face to confirm the picture forming in her mind, but knew she was not permitted; she was frustrated. She wondered if this was the extent to which she'd participate and was surprised to find she wanted more. She had been invited "mostly to watch" and now she was close enough to hear and smell, feel the warmth of their bodies. She couldn't see at all, though her mind was so full of vivid pictures she became uncertain whether she was completely blindfolded after all.

She was also kneeling like a slave for the first time in her life. At first it had annoyed her, made her want to rebel—it had been stressed that there was one slave and that she would not belong to her girlfriend's Owner as property. Yet he had told her to kneel and she had obeyed quite naturally. Kneeling there, she realized she felt strangely honored and dignified and understood the side of her girlfriend that was known as Possessed. She was not possessed, however, but still felt very comfortable in this new attitude of submission. She wondered what to call it.

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