Lynn's Journey Pt. 07

Really, it just dissolved into me on the couch, edging myself between my daily tasks. How I needed to feel your hand slide to your pussy. How I wanted you to claim what was yours so bad. How I wanted to be bound again, this time relaxing more so you could have complete and unabashed contact with what is yours. I now know I can please you more if I pushed myself a little harder. Let go more. Completely accept my instinct to trust you.

How I wanted to lay on that giant bed and make myself cum for you. This time reapplying some lipstick first. Then during, being more confident, looking into your eyes, inviting them to devour me. Every bit of me. How your eyes, and not the Magic Wand or my fingers, is what actually makes me cum.

How I want to so badly be your cunt. Stretching myself to accept everything you provide. To feel your breathing change as I do something that pleases you. How that makes me want to cum so bad for you. And when that time finally is allowed, how I sneak my fingers in between the buttons of your shirt, your breath ragged, the fabric divine, and drink in the smell of you. That keeps me cumming hard for you.

Your boyish smile as you discovered how wet I was. The command in your voice. Your posture as you stand next to me. The controlled power that you provide. So fucking sexy. Mainly because it all has one common thread - you.

Always,

Lynn

From: Lynn | Nov 16, 2018 PM

Hi Sir,

Per your request, my story is below.

Always,

Kitten

______________

I sit in the too-bright lobby and watch the cheesy faux fireplace with its aqua colored heat stones. My heart feels like it's going to launch out of my ear drums, but I don't care. Based on what I've figured out about myself recently, I'd probably get off on it. The thought makes me smile and I start to move to cross my legs so that I can feel the pressure against my pussy, his pussy, and revel in the moment, but I think wiser.

Sir does not like it when I cross my legs, so I adjust my posture to the 'Duchess Slant' position. Straighten my back, roll my shoulders, and rock my hips forward so that his pussy is pressing down on the chair. I'm so wet that I'm worried when I stand up there will be a noticeable spot, but they are leather chairs, an easy swoop of my purse will fix that. I close my eyes and exhale, enjoying the cool material for just a second before readjusting.

My 'waxpert' comes out and greets me. This is it. The point of no return. We exchange the usual niceties and I'm left to undress. I can't look at myself in the mirror. I know that when I look I'll see myself. The usual, frumpy, overly nervous, me. This was not an occasion where that would fly - I needed to be the otherworldly, beautiful, confident woman that Sir wants me to be. One day that will be the new version of what I see in the mirror, but not today. Today is only a step in that direction.

I hastily put my shoes, socks, coat, and purse in the chair by the table, lay out the towel, and lie down. I place the other courtesy towel on top of myself and stare at the ceiling while I wait for her to come back in. I let out a long sigh and play over in my head what I'm going to say and do. How this will make you happy. Sweep my self-doubt under the rug so there is only room for subspace. Pussy throbbing. It feels like eons pass, and I hear the little knock and see her head pop around the curtain.

I nearly cum.

"Oh geeze, let me turn up the heat! You're shaking!" she says to me. Little does she know I'm far from cold. I thank her and we go over the work I'm going to have done despite filling this information out on the app twice. The mundane conversation helps calm my nerves though so I'm thankful for the conversation. I'm instructed to lie back down completely, and I oblige. I'm back to staring at the ceiling and transport myself to wearing Sir's blindfold. I miss that blindfold.

She starts by removing the top towel and assessing what needs to be done for the job she was hired to do. The process starts with arguably my favorite part: The cleaning. I butterfly my legs open, fully exposed to the world. I feel my body want a crop, but instead it receives a stingingly cold and damp towelette. The shock of the temperature change makes me want to writhe, so I do, and time it so that the next pass lands near or on my clit. At that point, I'm not sure if it actually touches because the sensation is overwhelming. I softly moan. This is such a tease for the things that I hope are to come. I see her smile and turn to adjust the settings on the wax.

She applies the first portion on the outside of my lips. The heat feels wonderful. She asks me if it's too hot and I tell her that it is not, but ask, "When it's torn off, would you be able to like, quickly apply your hand with hard pressure? It makes things feel much better." She chuckles a little and says, "Sure, that always helps convert the stinging, doesn't it?" and I laugh with her.

Inside I ponder if she understands what I'm talking about. I'm far from her only client and I refuse to believe that I'm the only curious maschoist in town. We wait for a few more seconds for the wax to harden, and the anticipation is simply erotic. "Ready?" she says. "Always." I reply. Then the first strip is ripped forward and her hand quickly covers the tender skin with a dull slap. I let out a throaty moan, making it a point to make it sound different than the normal yelps from the past.

"Was that too hard?" she asks, her voice laced with curiosity. "That was too soft." I tell her in my best Sir voice. I see her slightly blush under her layers of foundation. The second strip comes off, and this time her hand makes an audible noise as it hits my flesh. I feel the vibrations from the touch throughout my body, congregating on my clit.

"Was that too hard?" she asks again, a slight curl on her lips, eyelids slightly heavy looking. "That was better." I tell her in my same Sir voice. "Well, I don't want to hurt you more than I have to, I don't want a bad review" she chuckles to me. Concern about her standings at work. This girl is cut from my same cloth. I smile at her and warmly say, "Oh honey, please hurt away, it's cathartic. I need this." and smile more.

Over the next few sections we find a rhythm. She rips off the wax, slaps her hand down. I take a few seconds longer each time while I bite down the need to orgasm. I affirm that it was not too hard - and smile, tell her she's doing perfectly. As this happens, I slightly rock my hips to visually let her know that this in fact that for me, this is not in the same realm of pain as others might have. This goes beyond. We reach the final few areas, with the last being the top of my pelvic bone - the most painful. I reach down and slide my finger down my clit towards my ass. Swollen. Wet. On fire with that delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. God, I want Sir right now.

"Last section!" She cheerfully declares. We both smile at each other, but while she's calm and even tempered, I'm trying not to obviously pant with need. The feeling is similar to when Sir makes me countdown to orgasm. I always have a problem when I reach 'two'- so close, so far away, balancing, it's the hardest number to say and requires the most effort to stifle the pending climax. This was like saying 'two' after being edged for days.

Before I start to dive further into my head I tell her, "This part always is a little rough. Could you make sure to apply pressure to the whole area once the wax comes off? Sounds crazy, but I like it." and I slide my fingers down the side of my body seductively, my eyes wide, a smile on my lips.

I see her nod, and I know she replies, but I can barely hear her because of the blood rushing through my ears. Anxiety is at a critical level, but so is my overall horniness. This is the deranged cocktail that I crave constantly after being with Sir. I lean back, my body is ready, so ready.

The wax comes off and I hear the slap. Launched into the blissful heavens of my cumming, I clench my ass so that her hand slides onto my clit. I swallow a scream as I feel her finger move and grab my shirt to keep from grabbing her... or worse, the pot of hot wax. I feel myself tearing up and finally remember to breathe.

"You doing OK there, hon?" I hear her purr. I roll my head to the side and see her smiling at me. I smile back. "I'm perfect. Thank you." and I wink.

When I'm left alone to get dressed I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm not where I should be, but I feel a little closer. I look down at my pussy, your pussy and smirk. Soon. I steal the towel I was lying on - I'm going to need that for the car ride home. I exit the room, leave a decent tip with the receptionist, book my next appointment, and turn in the complete opposite direction of the door while I load my app to start my email to Sir. He will be so proud.

From: SIR | Nov 17, 2018 PM

You are my Good Girl. You get it. You know what I need from you.

The others are just housewives and divorcees playing at 50 Shades. Poseurs longing to feel something who bore me and waste my time. Their minds are tiny seeds of neediness with no capacity for growth, no desire to please. Typical Washington women. Arrogant. They feel defective and hollow because they're needy and insecure. I keep hoping for more. I keep getting disappointed.

I wish they could read what you write me. Fuck that. No. They could never understand. You honor me. You need me. You move me. You are we. You make me feel something. You know there's more. You want to be strong, so you try to give to me without reservation, and in doing so you make me want to protect you while you learn.

You can compartmentalize this. You can lead two lives. This is who you are naturally. You have no desire to cross-over from one to the other. It would diminish them both. This is a journey. You have the capacity for self-reflection without reservation or obfuscation. Regret without remorse. A deep, burning desire to learn more about who you really are in each life. A beautiful, nurturing, strong, confident, sexual being but still full of self-doubt.

Your journey is mine as well. You're the one Kitten. You have more to learn, but I can never have another like you. There will never be another like you.

From: SIR | Nov 17, 2018 PM

Very well done Kitten.

You may cum today between 11:30 and 11:45 AM your time. Any location. Cum as many times as you like in that timeframe. I will also be cumming at that time. If you can't find the time to do this, you may not cum today, and you will maintain your edging and abstinence.

From: Lynn | Nov 17, 2018 PM

Hi Sir,

Today I came, just once, during the allotted timeframe. I snuck off to the shower, looked at my ass in the mirror, slightly frowning that your marks are now only there in memory. I started the water, filling the room with steam and smells of soap. I missed you immediately because the soap I have smells like that crappy hotel soap. I've always hated it, but now it might always have a place at home.

Slowly cleaning my body, touching myself everywhere, and thought of your last emails as I moved my fingers up and down your clit, hard. The passion. The frustration. You need a release. You need someone. And then, in that moment, I came for you. It wasn't just me standing there cumming, it was more like me trying to direct the universe to also allow you to feel a fraction of relief. Satisfaction. That I was giving something to you to make you feel better. I truly wished that I was there with you to show you.

Always,

Kitten

From: SIR | Nov 18, 2018 PM

This is beautiful. You are beautiful. This brief story shows me how far along you've come. How much you've grown. You should be very proud of yourself. This pleases me very much. Answer some questions for me. The story you just sent tells me you're ready.

We never talked about the ankle bracelet I gave you. What does it mean to you?

What was going through your mind, what were you feeling as you lay there blindfolded, exposing yourself, waiting...needing... the bite of the crop?

What effect did the wand vibrator have on you? What was going through your mind as you approached the speaking tongues stage?

Having your ass massaged and fingered? Licked?

Your cunt licked?

Not just physiological. Emotions. All of it. Dig deep. Real deep. Anyone can cum. That's not what I need to know. I want to know why you are there. What it all means to you so far.

Take your time. Go away. Meditate. Cook. Clean. Take a bath. Whatever it is you do to get time to think. But do this well. I know you can do it.

I will be very disappointed if you rush this and give me an answer you think I want to hear. Do not lie to me. Do not disappoint me.

From: SIR | Nov 18, 2018 PM

Another week has passed. Another week without a picture of my pussy.

I've seen that pretty little pussy wet and swollen and open. MY cunt. MY cunt is beautiful. Your legs pulled back, clit large and hard, lips red and swollen, stretched open, covered in wetness, cunthole open, wet, dark, deep and inviting. It was perfect. It was beautiful. It is my cunt and it is perfectly beautiful. It is burned into my memory. It filled me with so much desire that I had to taste it...I had to have you in my mouth. And I did.

We talked about it. You never thought to ask me if you could take the pic for me while I was there. Even to use my phone to do it. Three days. It never crossed your mind? I have a full frontal nude of you, so modesty isn't the issue. I find this defiance very intriguing, but it cannot go unpunished.

Yes, you WERE punished for this when we were together. And you were very stoic. I had to stop because of the marks. Let's be more creative.

You will wear clips on your nipples, starting at 10 minutes per day, adding 1 minute each session. Starting today, every other day for one week. 4 days total.

Day 1, 10 minutes.

Day 2, 11 minutes

Day 3, 12 minutes

Day 4, 13 minutes

One continuous session each time. Both nipples at the same time. You may wear them under your clothes if you like. It must be one continuous session each time. If one falls off or if you open it, you must remove them, wait at least 30 minutes and start over.

Do it in the bathroom. In the shower. In the car. At lunch time. At bedtime. While you're shopping. Doesn't matter where, but I strongly suggest you be alone when you remove them.

You may edge as you wear them, if you choose, but you may not cum. You especially may not cum as you remove them.

By the fourth session you will be angry. It will hurt like a motherfucker. Or not. We'll find out how much of a masochist you are. Either way, I did not do this. You chose to do this.

Unfortunately for you, I now have the perfect picture of my perfect cunt etched into my mind. I have no idea how you can create and take that picture on your own. Whereas before I had none, now I have expectations.

This weeks' punishment is set. After this week, you will continue to be punished, on my whim, and as I fancy, until I have the pic. For any given week, maybe you will be punished, maybe you won't. At my whim and fancy.

My poor, poor defiant, problem-solving, Kitten. I think you're fucked.

Sir.

From: Lynn | Nov 18, 2018 PM

Hi Sir,

To go concept by concept is going to take a little time, and multiple emails. I promise to touch on each concept, but please bear with me.

The ankle bracelet I feel is symbolic of ownership. I don't feel it's any different than the collar except the bracelet I can wear all the time and have it be socially acceptable. Slaves also wore items to show their ownership, except it was more than that. In part it was to show the public that you were owned, but also to remind the wearer that they were owned as well. Since wearing it, there are times that I don't even notice it, times where I think it's a hair tickling my ankle, and times that it feels like it has the weight of a thousand suns. This goes both physically and emotionally.

While lying exposed waiting for the crop... that's a tough one. Self-conscious. Horny as fuck. Like a whore. A woman. There was a lot of emotions fighting to be the primary. Being that exposed... you are the 3rd or 4th person to ever see that. My doctor as I had kids, the husband, probably my parents when I was little, and debatably the unfortunate souls in eye shot who saw me epically fail on ice about 7-8 years ago outside a bar after I dumped my panties in an unsuccessful attempt to seduce a gentleman friend. It's unconfirmed if people saw, but I still count it.

Now of that list, most instances are non-sexual: Parenting, medical, parenting... you are one of two who has seen me exposed AND horny. Of the two, you have been the **only** one who has an understanding on what to do with what is being presented. It's not a cum in your pants than apologize moment. It's not a skip the foreplay and shove it in moment. It's not an ignore her needs, I'm getting my rocks off moment. I am there to make you happy, to figure out what it means to be a sexual woman, and all of that makes me feel like a greedy whore. This is what I've wanted for a very long time. For years... YEARS I've suppressed my sexual... well everything... by the justification that there is so much more to life than sex because I was tired of the rejection. I'm fat, flat, strong, weak, thin, married, loose, too inexperienced... the list goes on... and from multiple people.

So I'm lying there, attempting to spread eagle, but wanting to close my legs because at any moment this will be too good to be true. This is going to be like everything else... hope, lies, disappointment, and either physical violence or an emotional tirade that will make me numb for weeks. But it wasn't. And I had no idea what to do. I still am not sure what to do. I look at violence and fear all the time - it's second nature - but give me something I wanted... what's the catch? There is never good.

Then the blindfold... to not see and plan for 90 years into the future with every passing second... it was terrifying and lovely. First, I wanted to see you. I think you're a fox. If you need a second to roll your eyes, this sentence is it. I always have. Big, charismatic dude who carries himself with a fine balance of playfulness, confidence, and direction. Your word choices separate you from the others, and frankly, I have a thing for well tailored blazers. Shoulders... mmm. And fuck age, I don't understand MMA, Reddit, or Tinder and nor do I want to.

I digress, the blindfold limited me to just what was happening inside because I couldn't see what was outside. I cannot stress enough, I think ALL THE TIME. My shrink says it's in the scope of normal as long as I stay focused, but the issue with that is that my head rivals the greater cosmos. Too, too much. In that moment where I'm scared, overdrive. I'm used to being in that state and delegating to a small army of family. But this time, just me. No one to delegate. So it forced me to process a lot of what I would put off, which, made the release more multifaceted and rewarding.

So I'm not a slut. I am a woman, with a man who can show her to herself. A sexual sensei if you will. The journey is hard, but rewards, so far, are bountiful.

Wand vibrator... frankly, I wanted to die. Historically I do not have the luxury of saying 'No' and have it mean anything in the situation or to have that word mean no retaliation. I say no when the husband hits me, it still happens... sometimes worse. I say no when Mom tells me that she's going to leave and sometimes knocks me on my ass for even thinking about no. 'No' is just an easy word to spell, nothing more. This felt like another situation that I put myself in that was no-proof. I was doing this solely for someone else, and it made me feel like shit.