tagBDSMMoving Home

Moving Home

byNakod Apa©

We're moving house. We didn't want to but they insisted - the tenants in the other apartments that is. They say I make too much noise. Balls! The walls may seem to be made of paper but don't tell me they can hear us over their TVs.

Anyway Master nearly always gags me before we start. We keep a bowl of apples on the table and when he's in the mood he'll say 'Open Wide', just like my old dentist - in the days when I could afford a dentist. And when I open my mouth, why he pushes an apple between my teeth. Sometimes he ties a scarf round my mouth to keep it in place, but mostly he leaves it to me to decide - he's kind and considerate that way.

So it's not my screams, or the sound of his hand on my arse, or the flogger on my breasts and thighs, or my moans when he finally rams himself in my welcoming hole.

No, it's envy. We mean everything to each other and it shows. We can't get enough of each other. It's there for all the neighbours to see.

The way he holds his arm around me when we go out, his hand under my cropped tee shirt massaging a sore, bra-less boob, occasionally tugging the chain joining my nipple rings. The times when my cheeks are a bit streaky, my eyes slightly swollen - people can see that not long before I was crying with the blessed pain.

Not that its taking us any real effort to move. We don't own much. Our Ipod, the laptop, a couple of books, and our toys - the cuffs; the ropes; the paddles, whips and floggers; and the hefty ringbolt that he screwed into the lintel above the bedroom door. We've also got a suitcase with a some clothes for when we need to go out to the shops, or to panhandle for a few pence - we rarely bother to wear anything in the apartment. It's fun to see the reaction of a salesman or unsuspecting visitor who, having made the mistake of knocking on our door, is answered by one of us, naked as the day we were born.

Master says it's a coincidence - they do happen - that we're moving home on the anniversary of when we met. It certainly doesn't seem a year since he found me sitting on a bench in the park crying with despair.

I'd come from seeing my mother buried - I never knew my father - and now I was an orphan, alone in the world. Too old they said to go into care, to become the responsibility of the state. Too inexperienced to fend for myself. What was I to do without money and a place to live?

Sobbing, I told him the only practical solution I'd come up with was to sell my body to the men who kept staring at me - it seemed they couldn't keep their lustful eyes off my long legs and big tits. But how to do it; what to charge; how to make sure they paid?

He was gentle, said that if I wished he would look after me. I was too naive to distrust him, and so I became his woman. Fortunately, within a couple of days, it became clear that we were truly meant for each other and couldn't contemplate ever living apart.

However, it took longer to discover what best pleased and satisfied the other. Those first few of weeks I used my safety word a lot, until he slowly came to appreciate how much of the pain I so desired I could actually accept, and I learnt how to use my hands and tongue to evoke his deepest pleasures.

He celebrated the end of our first month together by presenting me with a collar, complete with a loop at the front to which he could clip my leash. Never have I so welcomed a gift. To be allowed to wear the mark of his ownership for all the world to see.

Then for my birthday - I may not look it, but I'll have you know it was my nineteenth - he took me to meet a friend of his who owed him a favour.

Sat on an upright chair I was told to remove my top. Mesmerized, the friend stared at my naked tits for several minutes then said, 'You always were a lucky bugger, Paul.' After which he teased and pinched my nipples until they stood hard and erect.

To the side he had a blowtorch. Holding a large needle in a pair of pliers he carefully held it in the flame. When it was cool again he nodded to Master and, leaning forward, grasped my left tit. Master stood behind me and held my shoulders as the friend pushed the needle through my nipple. It's just as well Master is strong for I struggled and cried out at the pain. Pulling the needle out the friend replaced it with a large silver ring. I'd nearly fainted, but they ignored me and methodically proceeded to fit another ring through my right nipple.

Tears were streaming down my face as Master thanked his friend and took me home. There he produced what had once been a silver chain necklace and threaded it between the two rings.

Before using me that evening he held me in front of the bathroom mirror and let me admire the two rings with their linking chain that now decorated my tits. I had to agree it looked superb, worth all the pain. He's promised that next birthday I shall have one for my clit.

Because it's our anniversary and all, we're going to make a small ceremony of the move. He's had me clip his hair at the back, where he keeps it in a short ponytail, while he's shaved his bristles and tidied up the greying bits at the sides. I've trimmed my pussy, and together we've washed, dried and brushed my long hair. I'd thought of cutting it but he says he likes the way I keep it in a long plait that reaches down to my nestle against my butt. With clean tops and our jeans freshly washed we look smart.

Occasionally people wonder if he's old enough to be my father - he says it's possible, and that I'm certainly young enough to be his daughter. Which seems to confuse them - except the ones that are clever enough to note the difference between physical ages and mental ages.

We arrive at our new abode just before midday. The lift carries a stark notice Out of Order, which means we have haul out cases up the six floors of stairs. If it's normally like this, then it's as well we don't go out often.

Breathless we reach our new front door. Master unlocks it and steps inside. As I go to follow he stops, drops his cases and turns to take mine - indicating that I'm to wait outside. Our bags settled he comes back to where, mystified, I await him. Smiling broadly he reaches down and with one hand behind my knees and the other around my back sweeps me off my feet.

Bearing me like a fragile and precious possession he carries me across the threshold as if I am a new bride. I almost break down and cry with the joy of his kindness.

'Right,' he says, 'let's get organized then we can start playing.' Playing, that's what he calls the centre of our lives, the times when we seek to give each other a glimpse of heaven.

The small amount of furniture in the apartment is worn, but what do you expect of a cheap rental. As I unpack the case containing our clothes and place them in the scratched chest Master screws the hook over the bedroom door - at least that's what I think until I notice that from somewhere he has found four ring bolts, one for each corner of the frame. Great, that means I can be spread eagled upright as well as on the bed.

He finishes first and delving in one of the bags comes up with the two cans of beer we had been saving for a rainy day.

'They talk of wetting the head of a new born baby, so I think we should wet the door of our new found home,' he announces, opening the cans. 'A toast, to our home and all who play in it.'

'Most appropriate,' I say wandering over to survey the view from the window. Though the only thing to be seen is the block across the way.

Master comes and stands behind me.

'We'll have to get some curtains. If the guys over there see us at play they might decide to call the cops.' I tell him.

'Right you are,' he says gently stroking my shoulders. Then he lifts the back of my crop top and licks along my spine, sending a tingle right through me.

I place my empty can on the window sill and lift my top off over my head. As I drop it on the floor, from somewhere a gentle breeze strokes my bare flesh. A grunt of satisfaction from Master and his hands slide round to capture my firm breasts.

Spreading my hands on the window sill to take my weight I lean forward allowing my tits to hang freely. He squeezes and pulls my nipples pretending to milk me like a cow. It's one of his favourite ploys, though to be perfect I should be lactating and he should drink from me. Perhaps, one day soon - I hope.

Briefly I can feel his tool, hard and erect, press between my buttocks before he pulls away a pace and finds the fastening of my jeans. Speedily they, and my panties, are around my ankles. I kick off my trainers and step out of the cloth.

At last he has me naked. We are truly at home.

Grasping the chain joining my nipple rings he leads me to the bedroom door. On the way he selects an apple from the bowl I have placed on the table. Automatically I open my mouth for him to stuff it, as usual, between my teeth - he doesn't have to tell me any more.

He slides a hand down the swell of my belly, ruffles the short hairs of my bush, then cups my mons. 'You belong to me, and this is for my use only. I will permit no other man to touch it,' he whispers the regular litany.

It makes me feel so proud. I want to talk, to assure him that I will be his for always, but I can only grunt into the apple as I thrust my hips forward, delighting in his touch.

Picking up the cuffs from where he had left them on the floor he places a soft kiss on my forehead before taking my left wrist, raising it above my head and clipping it to the first of the ring bolts he's screwed into the door frame. Then he shackles my other hand and my ankles to the remaining rings. I'm standing spread eagled in the doorway facing into the lounge, the stretch of my arms lifting and shaping my humongous boobs.

He gathers a tit in each hand, hefting and weighing them. I know he delights in the way they overflow his palms as he lowers his head and traces the edge of their areoli with his tongue, sucking my nipples until they stand proud and ready. He nips one bud with his teeth as he pinches the other with his fingers. I feel a tingling sensation build up from my toes to my center and I moan softly into the apple.

After several minutes worshiping my tits his hand moves down slowly, caressingly, the finger tips barely stroking my skin; past my navel, across my belly, to ruffle my pussy hair then scratch my slit. My wide stretched legs give him the room he needs to rub my swollen lips, tease my clit. I try to push my hips forward to meet his hand, but the cuffs hold me back.

I'm wet now. My breathing is becoming faster. He pushes first one then two fingers into my yearning tunnel.

'Enough, enough, don't tease me. Do it!' I want to scream at him but the apple only lets me grunt.

He pulls out his fingers and, licking them, grins at me. 'I know, I know. You're always so impatient.'

Leaving me aching for release he disappears into the kitchen. I can hear him opening cupboard doors and drawers. 'Where did she put them?' He mutters.

At last he returns. I can see from the bulge in his jeans that he's becoming aroused. Soon he will release me and allow me to suck his beautiful cock. However, first he will satisfy my need to feel the glorious bite of the flogger.

But wait, what's this? This is new. He grasps a boob with one hand and with the other carefully fits a spring clothes peg on its nipple. Then he does the other. Then puts two or three on each of my pussy lips. They hurt. Not too much. I think I could come to like it.

Crossing to our toy box he searches for a long, thin hank of cord. Unwinding it he folds it into two and hangs the bend over my head, half the slack running down across each breast. This bit is one of my favourites and I sigh contentedly as he winds the cord tightly around the base of each boob, making them swell and stand out with the trapped blood.

There's still a good length of cord left on each side which he leads down between my cunni lips and up to my hips where he ties them together around my waist. Now, as I move, the rough cord slides to and fro between my lips and across my clit adding a counterpoint to the stings to come.

'Tight enough?' he asks. I nod my head.

Back at the toy box he picks out a multi tailed flogger, the soft lashes about thirty inches long, and a short-handled riding whip with a braided leather lash. He thinks a moment then discards the quirt. It's his favourite because it hurts more, but it also leaves marks and he prefers my skin smooth and unblemished.

The first blow of the flogger lands on the upper part of my thighs, then he gradually works up across my mound, my belly, my breasts. Each stroke stings beautifully, not hard enough to cause extreme pain but all together they get me panting and groaning.

Pushing past me into the bedroom he flips my plait forward over my shoulder then concentrates on giving my back and arse a good workout - developing a fast, rhythmic tempo. Finally he senses I'm about to come and returns to stand before me.

There is a surge of pain through my tender tits as he grasps the pegs on my nipples and yanks them off with his free hand allowing the blood to flow again - all the time he's lashing harder and harder with the flogger. I spasm and wince, straining at my bonds as the cord scrapes between my pussy lips. Each torment is fine but together they send me over the top and I shudder and gasp as the first orgasm of the session overtakes me.

Grinning at me he strips off his shirt and jeans as, panting, I slowly recover. Naked, his cock thrusts erect and proud, ready for my attention.

Master unshackles my wrists and ankles but leaves the cord wound round my boobs and cunni. I fall to my knees before him. Raising my head his engorged cock slips between my welcoming lips. It's hard and hot.

Not too fast. I let him slip from my mouth and wrap his thick tool in my hands. Slowly I lick it back and forth like a drink on a stick; I flick the bulbous tip with my tongue, then slide down and suck his balls. When he moans I again fold my lips around his velvety shaft. I tickle his sac with my nails. He puts a hand each side of my head and pulls me deeper. I hear him moan and know he's close.

Roughly he me pushes back a little and, hands on my waist, raises me slightly so that his spurting cum splatters across my breasts and belly, a couple of drops clinging to a nipple ring before sliding along the silver chain. I don't want it on my tits, I want it in my hole, but he maintains that would be too quick. This initial burst is just to prepare him - to let him get control. Later, when he cums again, he will take his time and empty his load deep into my craving cunni.

Carefully he massages his cum into my boobs and belly, soothing the bite of the flogger, then leads me toward the bed. He lays back, watching, as I carefully detach the pegs on my pussy lips, then unwind the cord. The anguish when I rub my hands over my abused flesh is just bearable. Master has come to know exactly how far to take me.

Standing before him squeezing and caressing my tits, from time to time slipping a finger first into my cunni then into my mouth to taste myself, I watch his tool once more grow stiff. I'm teasing him, making him wait as he made me wait.

At last I can delay no longer, I want him as much, nay more, than he wants me.

I climb onto the bed and kneel across him. As I lower myself I'm sitting on his belly. Leaning back slightly I can feel his divine weapon nestling between my buttocks. Reaching behind I close my fingers around it and lightly rub up and down while my other hand strokes his chest and tweaks his nipples.

He tries to raise his head, hinting that I should kiss him. So I flick my lips across his, lean in to bite an earlobe, then relent and slip my tongue into his mouth. We dance the tongue tango.

He starts wriggling his hips, trying to position his tip at my entrance but I'm not quite ready. Lowering my shoulders I brush his lips with my nipples. First one then the other until he opens his mouth and starts to suck like a starving child. But then he is - starving for me as I'm starving for him.

Slowly raising my arse I edge back along the bed letting the tip of his tool slide down my crack until it is pressing against my opening. He thrusts up with his hips trying to enter me but, laughing, I go up with him until he gives up and admits I'm in control. Only then do I lower myself, guiding him into me. Gradually, little by little, I impale myself on his wonderful weapon, delighting in the feel of sheathing his strong length. When he is completely home I bounce a bit, wait, bounce a bit more, wait a little longer as he groans and pleads with me to 'Get on with it'.

His hands are on my tits, toying with my rings, caressing and squeezing my firm flesh. Without his help I have to do all the work, lifting and lowering myself on protesting knees. This bed creaks, the headboard knocks against the wall. We'll have to move it a bit before the neighbours complain.

Master is squirming and moaning and I'm beginning to feel the pressure building, so I bring one hand up to caress a boob, the other I drop between my thighs to rub my clit. I'm aiming to cum at the exact moment he does.

Master drops his hands to my hips, urging me to pump faster. I nearly lose him on the up stroke and thump solidly onto his pelvis on the down. My head is back. I'm gasping and moaning. I can feel the sweat on my skin. My tits are jumping. My thighs are quivering with my efforts. Relentlessly I ride him.

Now! It is there. I give a sharp cry. He groans. We explode together. I feel his hot spend spurting into my greedy reliquary. I arch my back and let my fluids welcome his seed.

Falling forward onto his strong chest, Master's arms hold me tight and I succumb to my delirious happiness. Later he kisses me and murmurs, 'Again?'.

Opening my eyes I nod, then look round at our surroundings. They're cheap and shabby. So what? Homes collect an aura from the people who've lived there in the past which shape and affect the lives of those who come after. As we entered I felt an air of sunny joyfulness, so I care not what this place may look like. We are going to be happy here, Master and I. We are home.


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byNakod Apa© 0 comments/ 13956 views/ 2 favorites

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