tagBDSMMaster's Christmas Treat

Master's Christmas Treat


There is a sensual pleasure in doing nothing, lying naked, warming the leather of an old Chesterfield sofa. An intermission in life, time for the mind to drift and muse.

The click of the lock turning, brings me out of my reverie, giving the motivation to rise swiftly from the sofa. Standing, hands behind my neck, head down, eyes lowered, legs apart. Long ago learning this stance, when my Master was teaching me the ways.

His footsteps are coming closer until he is in front of me. "Good evening jane" "Good evening Sir." Speaking when spoken to, without raising my eyes.

When Master has been away for a few days, his ritual is to inspect me. Walking around me slowly, then back facing me. Sir has trained me to remain still and firm in position, his strong fingers sliding over my cunt lips. Cunt, because that is what Sir wishes it called. Every private place he inspects for smoothness. He insists on a smooth, freshly shaven cunt and mound.

In the early days of training, had shaving been forgotten, or not done properly, the punishment would have been firm, at times severe. There was never any reward for poor behavior. No spanking, whipping or toys.

There was just the rope and being tied, in profoundly uncomfortable positions for extended periods of time. A sub learns quickly, with a profound respect and compliance toward her Master.

Finishing the cunt inspection, satisfied as to its smoothness, he whispers softly in my ear "Good girl" and continues to stroke.

The sliding of his long finger inside me, always makes me drag in a breath. A second finger joins the first, moaning as the second pushes inside.

Soft long strokes and then curling, feeling me, inspecting everything my cunt has to offer him. Fingers straightened, pushed hard inside. When standing in the submissive pose, the full length of his two fingers, driven to the knuckle, is painful and he knows it.

It always makes me whimper, always a struggle to stay in position. He also knows there is mutual enjoyment.

Sometimes he will stroke my clitoris to orgasm, the spasms curling me slightly bowed. There is no punishment, for this bowing from the full submissive pose.

Tonight he withdrew his slippery, wet fingers from my cunt, without bringing me to orgasm. "Lift your head and suck my fingers clean" He knows how much of a repellent this is to me, the sweetness of my juices, mild chicken meat taste and smell of the woman.

The salty tang of his cum is my preference, the flavor for titillating my taste buds, especially the first small flow, before the flood.

Lifting my head and accepting his fingers into my mouth, they are licked and sucked clean of their slippery, sweet coating.

He watched me working carefully. No appearance of displeasure is permitted, during the performing of this duty. He taught me to treat this as if cleaning his spent cock after using my cunt.

When my comfort sucking began, he knew his fingers were clean, he withdrew them, kissed my mouth, stroking my cheek at the same time.

Still holding my face, we moved out of the kiss, but he stayed close and looked into my eyes. "Perfect! You may move out of position now." "Thank you, Sir" shuffling my legs back together and lowering my arms.

"Right, well I thought I would give you a special treat tonight jane." He paused. My reaction was an immediate and enormous expectation. He continued "Let's put up the Christmas Tree!"

There was no way to mask my disappointment; it was just crushing. Christmas was not a place for me. Tacky tinsel and cheap, gaudy decorations were just things of total depression and then, of course, the carols in every store.

Christmas was a time to grin and bear, acknowledging the happy season's greetings given, in the same joyful manner back. Christmas had never been a pleasant time for me, even as a child.

Sir laughed and grabbed me around the waist, waltzing me to the silent strains of a Strauss Waltz, around and around we swirled, serenading me with his beautiful baritone voice "tis the season to be jolly, tra la la la la, la la la la."

Looking up at him morosely, he took pity on me. He brought the waltz to a stop and asked "Too much?" Nodded my agreement. "My poor little sub, I am very cruel to you tonight." I sagged my shoulders and dropping my head sideways in mock misery.

All of a sudden, flinging me upward off my feet, into his arms "And what would my sub enjoy doing better than tacky tinsel? Would she like some rope and a little stroking with leather perhaps?" Nodding back at him enthusiastically.

"Right then, go and get your red stilettos and come to the Training Room." Bolting to the wardrobe, finding the red stilettos I stepped up into them and minced back quickly, heels clicking over the tiles, into the Training Room.

Sir looked at me and then down to the shoes, then back up again, nodding his approval. The Training Room looked basically like some forbidding, upmarket, torture chamber. Too many pieces of equipment to describe for this time. Suffice to say it ranged from the relatively innocuous to the downright terrifying.

Sir had made his decision, it was to be something simple. Blindfolding me first then walking me across to two parallel metal bars.

The bars ran from floor to ceiling and faced a large, full-length wall mirror. Sometimes when we played, there would be a blindfold and sometimes not. Positioning me between the bars, telling me to bend and hold my ankles as my Master pushed me forward, holding the back of my neck.

His hand began spreading open my cheeks and stroking at my asshole; the butt plug came next.

My training had been thorough, enough that the plug was a reasonable size. My asshole needed to accommodate his cock; therefore training started early in the relationship.

He played with the plug a few times, pulling it out to the thickest part, holding and then letting it sink back inside me again. This game always makes me moan, and he enjoys the sounds of my arousal.

"Stand and give me your wrists" He took each wrist, in turn, tying them with rope, then to a ring on either bar. The feel of the rope encircling my wrists always gives me a feeling of protection and security.

He was taking his time tonight, slower than normal moving around me, inspecting his work hearing him adjusting things. In turn, tying each ankle to the rings, set in the bars at the base.

Now spreadeagled between the bars, secure and available for his pleasure. Listening to him walking back and forth, adjusting the ropes, organizing his equipment, laying out everything ready for use. It was arousing not knowing what was to come.

Feeling my Master behind me, his hands on me, stroking caressing. This heavenly feeling, as he ran his hands over breasts and mound, legs and cheeks, rubbing the side of his face into mine. Moans, yes there were plenty of moans but now from both of us.

His cock was hard as it pressed into me. He moved to the front of me, taking each nipple between a finger and thumb. Pulling and twisting, pulling, stretching them out toward himself. My whimper is rising to a howl, to a scream, as the drag became too far.

He released the tension and stroked and caressed them better; nipple clamps replaced his fingers. Nasty, painful things, which sometimes had weights on them. Tonight they were weighted. I felt the weights tugging down and swinging with any movement.

"Open your mouth wide." Getting a ball gag pushed between my teeth, not my favorite, they make me gag and drool. Hearing me gag is another favorite sound for my Master.

Often he holds a little too long, when he has his cock down my throat, enjoying the gagging and tears, gripping my head tightly, controlling the struggling.

My excitement and fear are rising, there is going to be a whip soon, he has an extensive collection, his choice is often difficult to guess.

It depends on what he wants to achieve. Pain or pleasure, how he wishes me marked, the choice is his. Where it strikes and how often, is also his decision. The game is up to him. We had decided this together, long ago.

I felt him behind me. "Ready my sub?" Grunted response. Feeling the leather stroking softly over my cheeks, he chose pleasure for me tonight.

The loving strap, the flat strap a bit bigger than a man's belt and then it landed hard on my cheeks, then thighs, then it was just over and over all over my back rapidly, organized whipping.

I could feel the heat radiating from me; everything was hot and throbbing. He stopped, waiting, giving a slight grunt, moving around to face me.

"Is my sub alright?" Nodding again, knowing this time the whip would land on my front. The first strike was on the outside of the left breast, away from the clamps, flinging it hard against the right breast. Then across the right breast, then belly, mound and down to thighs, every part was tended to by the whip.

Finally, there was the last hit, the one which sears in deeply. Forcefully bringing the belt back up between my spread legs, striking the belt across my cunt and clit. Gagged screams as it hits, pain flashing through me, causing me to shudder and whimper long after the strike.

The belt dropped, and my Master's arms are around me tightly. He holds me for a long time, feeling his cock hard against me.

Waiting for me to calm and relax, his hand caressing my mound, moving down to my cunt, stroking and rubbing.

He begins to growl a low moan as his arousal demands to be satisfied. Hearing him opening his clothing, then the feeling of his warm, silky cock, pressing against my skin.

His grip tight on my ass cheeks, as he positions himself, ready to use his sub, to relieve what has been building for a long time. The tip of his cock finding aim, hot wet cunt, then the lunge upward, the urgent pumping, hard and fast, the growling as he gets close.

Our skin is slapping together as he slams his cock inside me faster, harder until he finally releases. A low animal howl as he liberates his seed, jerking inside me with each pumping spray. His cock twitched inside my wetness until he was satisfied, slipping free.

He reached down, fingers grinding hard and demanding into my nub, making me move like a marionette in my own obscene, orgasmic dance. The dance over, moving away, leaving me alone for a moment, needing him to hold me, tell me he is pleased.

There must have been a sensing of my distress, returning quickly, standing behind me holding me firmly against himself. Rocking me gently until I calmed.

His words were gentle, almost a whisper "Would a sub like to look into the mirror and see what I am seeing?" Nodding to the question. Wondering how marked and striped my Master has made my skin.

Feeling him slowly untying my blindfold, as it falls away, it takes a little time coming back into focus. I looked in astonishment at the mirror's reflection; there is my Master wearing a Santa hat and jacket.

The bondage bars have big red bows of velvet and garlands of hanging tinsel. The nipple clamp weights wrapped as small dangling presents, the bondage ropes are the red ones, wrapped like candy canes around the poles.

The ball gag has holly stuck on either side and me wearing my red shoes. My shock was causing him to fall into a boisterous fit of laughter. I found out it isn't easy laughing through a ball gag.

"This would make a great Christmas card photo for our friends" still holding me tightly, smiling at me in the mirror. Something vaguely resembling 'No' gurgles out of my festively gagged mouth.

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