Missing Master

It's been two weeks since Master went away with another. She's tried so hard to be good, working and coming home to cook and clean. She hasn't even texted him, as asked.

She would have tried not to anyway. She wants so badly to send him the pictures she takes of herself when she's so horny she can't think straight. Pictures of her open, exposed, vulnerable and wanting on her knees. But there's always her. The other one. The one before her. Fear that she might displease him keeps her from sending what she's always shared so willingly.

Soon, she hopes, he'll be home. Then he'll send for her. Maybe he'll even reward her for her good behavior. She can't help but hope that he will choose to finally give her what he once promised her. She knows he meant it as a threat, and she should be grateful that he didn't, but she hopes he'll do as he said he would. Bend her over a bench in the park up the street from his house. She hopes he'll humiliate her by ordering her to strip slowly for him before he spanks her. He's been gentle so far, but she knows its because she's new.

She appreciates his thoughtfulness and care of her, but she wants so badly to be hurt. To be hurt so much and for him to tell her not to give voice to her pain. She wants him to send her home with bruises and marks where she has to hide them. Little secrets only they share. Gifts from her Master to show he cares enough to mark her.

As she thinks these things, alone in her room, her fiance at work, she can feel herself grow wet. Wet and hot and tight for him.

She imagines him surprising her at work, she knows he has a massage owed him this month. He is, after all, a member. She imagines him showing up on Thursday, the day he's bid her call him, for a massage. She remembers the way it felt when she first saw him. How she immediately responded to the scent of him and the way he held himself. She imagines how it would be to see him again now, about a month later, knowing that he wants her too and also how good he can make her feel. Knowing that he more than lives up to the vaguely formed fantasies she couldn't help but imagine.

She runs her fingers down her stomach, softly, the way she allows no-one else to because it tickles. She shivers at the way it feels but doesn't stop because thinking of him, it feels wrong to allow herself only pleasure. She knows the discomfort heightens her senses.

She sees herself trying so hard to give him the massage he deserves, so wet and wanting as she touches his naked skin, recognizing it for the gift it is, hoping he can't tell how he affects her, simply by laying there and allowing her to touch him any way he likes, knowing her sense of professionalism won't allow her to touch him the way she wants.

She imagines that he's her last client of the day. She imagines that he leans her up against the wall, hand on her throat, cutting off her air, and kisses her before he leaves.

"I will be waiting." Four words. She knows that will be all it takes to make her knees shake and her body overly sensitive.

"Yes, sir." She knows that is the only answer he will accept. Its the only answer she wants to give.

As she does her final sheet change and SOAP notes, she wonders what he has planned. Its been so long, she aches to just be allowed to be around him. She aches to feel him press deep down her throat the way she knows he likes.

In the real world, she allows her fingers to slip up and tease her nipples. As insensitive as they are, she loves the way they harden and peak. She imagines her fingers are his as she pinches first one and then the other, hard, merciless, the way she knows he does. A soft moan slips from between her lips as the sharp pain slides through her body.

She sees herself get into his car, the way she has before. She buckles her seat belt, a habit she retains, even knowing that he's just as likely to order her to take it off to suck him as he is to leave her waiting till they get to his home.

"Unzip my shorts, I want to feel your little hands on my cock" God! Just hearing him speak makes her silently thank God that she doesn't blush as easily as she knows she should as heat courses through her body. She hurries to comply, trying to steady her suddenly shaky hands.

"Hmm," she sighs, unable to repress this small signal of her satisfaction at being allowed to hold him again. She feels him begin to harden in her deft hands and shivers, hoping that her efforts will be rewarded tonight.

She's so lost in the way he feels, that she barely notices when they stop at the park, not his house.

"Get out, follow me. I've decided on a change of setting tonight."

In real life, she slips her fingers slowly down her stomach, tracing they paths she made earlier with her nails and roughly strokes her soft, freshly waxed mound. She kneads it to encourage blood flow, knowing it will make it harder for her to resist coming, wanting to see how far she can go without pushing herself over the edge.

She sees herself unbuckle, the fantasy so vivid, she feels almost as though she can feel the soft touch of the night air. She follows him to a bench, shrouded in shadows. Its dark so the park is lit only faintly by the orange cones of lights. He sits before her, casually claiming the space with every action.

"Strip. Slowly. I want to see you naked here."

She feels light-headed, almost detached she's so horny. She begins to slowly remove her clothes, one piece at a time. He stops her with a hand on her stomach before she can remove her sheer black g-string. He pulls her closer to stand between his knees as he runs his fingers slowly all over her bare skin, sliding around but never over her most secret places. His long, deft fingers trailing fire over her, even as the fear of being caught and the shame of being naked where anyone could see sends floods down her thighs.

He stands, fingers trailing as he shifts behind her. "Bend over."

She complies, hoping he won't spank her and cause noise, even as she desperately hopes he will.

"Keep your eyes down and don't make a sound."

His hands disappear. The night air is cold after the fire he lit on her skin. She does her best not to shiver, afraid one wrong move will end it all.

He waits. On and on. To her it feels like forever. Finally, she hears a loud CRACK. Immediately, she feels the sting of every finger on his hand. He waits just seconds before smacking her ass again. Over and over he brings his hand down until her ass is bright red and she's biting her tongue bloody to keep from crying out.

When he's done, he doesn't soothe her burning, red backside. That would be counter-productive. She is exactly the way he wants as she is. He takes a handful of her bright red skin in each hand and squeezes down, sending supernovas of pain deep through her muscles. She lets out a small, strangled cry, unable to hold back.

In real life, she finally allows her fingers to slide down her swollen, soaking lips to spread her juice. She trails slow circles around and around, lost in the fantasy she's created.

"You like the pain, don't you, slut? You like being naked here where anyone could pass you," he says as he ties her to the slats of the bench. "What if i left you like this? I could just walk away, right now. Lots of people come to this park at night, what would they do if they happened upon a hot, wet woman, tied here, defenseless?"

Like cold water, fear slithers down her spine. "No, Master, please! Please don't leave me!" She trusted him, she knew she did but the thought... the thought that he might leave her scared her so deeply!

"Then I suggest that when I tell you to make no noise in the future, you fucking listen to what I say!"

Even knowing it will do no good, she begins to beg "Yes, Master, I'm sorry, I tried, please, I'll be good!"

"Silence, slut!" WHACK! His hand flies down on her sore, sensitive ass. She fights the instinctive need to flee from the pain.

Again his hand comes down, and again she resists the urge to move but this time its not only from pain. With each slap of his hand on her skin, the desire for him grows. The urge to thrust her ass up for more becomes impossible to resist.

Finally, once again, he stops. This time he slides one strong, soft finger deep inside her soft, tight passage. He groans softly at how wet and ready he finds her.

"I can see that my little whore is ready."

"Oh yes, Sir! Please, Master, please!" She cries.

"Please what?" He growls, slowly sliding his finger out and then up to trace the tight ring of her asshole.

"Ahh! Please Master! Mmm, more!"

"More what? Speak! Tell me what you want," the tone of his voice, so calm and controlled, simply served to remind her of her place and drove her to new heights. She knew she could come. She never had from penetration before, but he was so talented! So experienced. He knew all her spots but she wanted more.

"Please, fuck me! Master please, fill me with your cock! Oh Master please!!" She cries, desperate.

His finger slips out, leaving her empty for only a moment before his cock slams home. Too late, she realizes he's not wearing a condom. Too late she cries out for him to stop! no please! He disregards her cries, bent only on his own pleasure and, against all her wishes, drives her higher and higher till its all she can do not to come, not now, not this way! Not bare! The fear that her come might send him over the edge has her gripping the slats of the bench so hard her knuckles turn white in a desperate effort not to come. Its a fight she knows she will lose.

In real life, she has long since lost the will to stay away from her throbbing clit. She knows she will come soon if she doesn't stop.

He rips out of her, just before she loses herself to the need to come. Not because he was close, but because being in her without protection was a hard limit and he had just remembered. Two weeks was a long time without limits to have to come back to. Quickly he forced himself fully into her ass, allowing no time for her to adjust.

Sharp, bright pricks of pain flashed through her as he buried himself in her ass. The pain multiplied the overwhelming amount of pleasure he had caused and forced her over the edge, screaming incoherently as she came.

Realizing that her cries had almost certainly attracted attention but unable to care, he slammed away at her ass, fucking her mercilessly as he raced toward his own impending orgasm.

In real life, she hears the door open down the hall. She grins quietly to herself as she slows her breathing and picks up her book.

"Hi honey, how was work?"