Waiting for her Master

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She's waited her entire life for him.
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saraza
saraza
1 Followers

There is a dark and quiet place. A place which you draw me to. Once there, you will never let me leave. A place which dissolves all inhibitions upon entering. It dissolves all but desire, and fear.

Our kind of desire.

Our kind of fear.

They are inevitable, our couplings. I could no more easily resist your perfect submission than you could resist my benevolent power.

This is where we are equal -- but only here.

For you were destined to submit to me, completely, and most sweetly. Since a very early age, you've known, haven't you? All that was left was the waiting.

All that you do is for me. When you breathe, you breathe for me. When you sleep, you sleep for me. When you offer yourself, you are pleased only if I am.

I, in return, give you what you want, what you need: the need to be owned, to be used, and to be valued. The need to be punished when appropriate, and even when not.

We started so slowly. There was even a time when we had a "safe" word, shortly after we first met, in order to gain a sense of trust in one another. You've never used it though, whore that you are. So great is your desire to please.

You didn't even use it when I filled your throat with my hardness -- although you couldn't have then, could you? Your mouth used so relentlessly, the moans I could feel vibrating the tip of my cock; were those moans a way to tell me to stop? Wouldn't we both prefer I buried myself deeply in your throat and stifled all your noise?

You are mine and I am yours, and we are forever wedded in this dark entanglement.

Because I surprise you, because I test your loyalty, because I cause such fear, such excitement, such pain, and such sweet release -- you will never leave.

And because you seduce me, because you make me feel true power, because your need to be taken outweighs even your need for daily sustenance -- I will never leave.

Sweet Adrienne,

A dream I had last night has conjured in my mind a ritual. A test. A script for your complete and utter submission.

I will tie you to my futon upside-down on your back, your head draped over the edge, ass firmly planted against the back. Your legs in the air, spread, ankles bound tightly to the oak frame atop, your wrists stretched and tied securely to each of the futon's feet. You will be secured with blood-red silk ribbon, so that if I am overzealous, the stains will not show.

And your eyes will be covered.

You will have bathed for me. You will have dressed for bed, so tempting in your cotton pajamas, the pajamas I make you wear when I sense you are ripe for a good spanking. I've liked the look of you bent over the edge of the bed, pajamas pulled down to below your sweet bottom, as I slap the alabaster skin there until it is deep red, or until you cry. Or until you stop crying, depending on my mood.

I will sit quietly, reading my paper, glancing occasionally at you. The waiting allows you to make the slow but welcome change from your banal roles and responsibilities to your most important role as my slave. I can see it in your breathing, in the litheness of your muscles relaxing. I can sense your surrender in its early stages.

The blindfold and my silence, your lack of mobility, create an inward calm, a place where you are willing to be my instrument. With only the steady whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional crinkle of my paper to hear; the musky smell of freshly cut mango teasing the air around you; the cutting feel of tight silk; and nothing to taste but anticipation.

Four of your senses aroused, but the fifth -- merely a thick, comforting blackness.

When the sight of you bound and waiting has sufficiently aroused me, I will approach you and kneel down by your left shoulder, quietly enough so you don't know I am there. I will move my mouth to your tiny ear and whisper, "Say that you are mine," and you will say it. You are ready to offer yourself completely, proud to be mine.

"Louder, young lady," I whisper, as I slap your clothed thigh hard.

You say it louder. You always do.

I will then tell you, still in a whisper, to unzip me with your mouth, and to do it slowly. I will put my palm on your forehead and push your head down, down, exposing the pretty white column of your throat. I see you swallow and lick lips that are suddenly dry. I see the hard pebbles atop your breasts under the thin cotton of your pajama top.

I will move directly behind you, and you will comply. You will reach out with your tongue to search me out. I will place the bottom end of it against the tip of your tongue, merely to watch your pink muscle strain to run slowly up its length.

When you move too quickly over its length, I slap your cunt hard, ordering you to slow down. "Yes, that's it". I can see your heat, your desire pooling low in your belly. My heat, created by your need for me. You feel the wet fabric clinging to your dripping mound, and pain radiates through your tender belly. I imagine there are even tears forming in the corners of your wide eyes.

It is as if you actually enjoy the feeling of the little steps of cold metal against your warm tongue, you move so slowly. It is as if you are counting them with diligent care.

Then at last, you reach the little trigger. You stretch the tired muscles of your neck out far to get your teeth around it. Chomping down quickly, before I can move away, because I always move away.

This time you grasp it immediately. "Good girl" I say, and you smile. But I slap your cunt even harder than before, and tell you calmly that there'll be time for smiling later. Now to the task at hand.

Your smile evaporates. I place my thumb firmly on the center of your neck, and push down slightly so that you will remember what I am capable of. From my tone, you sense that tonight I will be rough with you. Rough, and maybe a little callous.

Your teeth grasp firmly and as you bend your neck back, my zipper trigger moves down with your teeth, slowly -- too slowly even for me. I watch your belly heave up and down. I watch your wrists and ankles turn darker red. I watch your muscles tense, until it is opened completely and you uncover my cock with your lips. You sigh in exasperation, and I slap you still harder for it, a deep redness already forming under the thin cotton of your white panties.

I have a surprise for you this time, as I've worn nothing underneath, and as you search for me with your thirsty lips -- straining out, out, out, kissing the air, expecting the dry taste of cotton -- your kiss finally, and perfectly meets the satin skin at the base of my cock.

You're so very careful not to smile.

Your lips pressed firmly against me, I tell you that tonight we will dispense with the foreplay. I order you to open your mouth, for I wish to embed myself in your silky, tight throat without delay. You taste my first drop of liquid, which has run quickly down to your bottom lip. You draw your lips back in a tight grimace, a forethought of the torrent of thick liquid to come.

But you comply. You always do.

You silently open your small, pretty mouth and I sternly order you to open wider, and you do, with trepidation. I run my hand from your throat around and down to grasp a handful of your dark hair. I yank it down roughly, and the sharp scream opens your mouth to my liking.

"Good girl," I say.

I quickly wiggle forward so that I can place your head between my legs and bend your neck down completely. You struggle against all your bindings, because you know what is in store for you. You take as many deep long breaths as are able, for you won't have many chances from now on. Your heart beats wildly.

You brace yourself, for you know that I usually take cock in hand and force it inside you, but this time I wish for you to take the head firmly between your lips before I plunge into you.

As I unbutton my pants, I help you by placing my fingertips at the base of me and pushing down until the glistening tip is within your reach. I place my cold hand on your warm throat so that I can feel you there. I love the feel of your soft throat -- inside and out.

Then as your lips have become firmly planted, and the head is starting to slip in, I place the other hand on the cushion by your shoulder and use it for leverage as I lift myself up, knees off the floor, to get the perfect angle down into you. And when I've found it, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, I force myself all the way, deep into your tight throat, the tip of me stretching you.

As I hold myself so deeply inside you there, your lungs full of fresh oxygen, you still strain to breathe freely, your lips tickled by soft curly hairs. Your jaw naturally begins to tire, and the moment I feel your sharp teeth graze the vulnerable flesh at the base of me, I tell you that for each infraction like this, you'll get ten spankings on your bare behind, later.

You open your mouth wide, and I pull out slowly and wait with the tip poised lightly on your lip. I move one hand to your left nipple and through the thin cotton of your pajama top, pinch it hard, sending an arrow of silvery anguish sharply into your chest. and as you use the sore muscles of your aching back to arch yourself away to escape the pressure, you have finally given me what I want, what I need: the perfect angle down into you.

The muscles of my thighs, abdomen, forearms, all tight and anxious, my heart beating in my throat, I slowly, deliberately fuck your tight mouth. Slow, deliberate strokes, as the music reaches a climax. The tip scrapes against your tongue as it travels deeper and deeper, finally embedding itself in your supple throat. Then, just as carefully, I retreat -- and again plunge into you with more urgency.

As I tell you what a good girl you are, stroking your hair, I lift up my body. Thrusting deeply into your mouth, I lay my body down on top of yours, careful not to slip out of you or to interrupt our perfect rhythm.

I push myself entirely into you, three times, and pull out enough so that you may take a short quick breath. Then again, even deeper.

I reach up and take hold of the crotch of your pajama bottoms, and place my fingers at the seam. I push forward and down with my fingertips and tear the fabric away from you, leaving a large gaping hole. Your aroma, your wetness, reaches my senses and for a few seconds I pause. Your pungent honey makes my head swim. The muscles of my straining body quiver, and nearly give out.

This, the only power you have over me. Your scent.

You try to pull your knees together, but the restraints will allow only inches. You are so vulnerable to me, and your frustrated groan feels good against the tip of me.

I so need your mouth for my pleasure.

My finger tips graze lightly against your panties, causing your hips to move upward, but I pull my fingers upward also. Each thrust into your throat allows a new and graceful touch on your wetness. You strain, I lift, you groan in anguish against the tip of me, and I plunge still deeper, stifling you.

I harshly grab the hem of your panties, and rip them aside, hungry to touch skin. You squirm at my insulting attack until your will crumbles and you strain up, up, your thigh muscles tensing, tensing, almost placing your bare cunt against my soft lips.

"So close, little baby, so close. If you suck me properly, perhaps I will plant a kiss on your little pussy. Would you like that?" I ask, breathing the words into your soft flesh, mocking you.

You scream into my cock and lift up your head forcing my cock deeper inside you than even I could manage before. My hands moving behind your head, grabbing your hair and holding it still so that I may fill your gullet properly. You gag and choke; I smile and moan.

I like the feel of my throat vibrating, so I move my neck up until it rests squarely on your tiny cock. The vibration burns right through you to your twitching anus, making your ass clench almost painfully.

Moving my cock faster, hands traveling inside your pajama bottoms, inside your panties, down so that I can spread open the cheeks of your ass. My middle finger slides slowly into your crevice, where your wetness has drenched you. You are dripping.

I fuck you more urgently now, my balls slapping hastily against the bridge of your nose. I move my throat up and off of you and place my lips just centimeters above your cunt, my cunt, and I slam into your perfect mouth while I only breathe over your wet opening, hot breaths directly into you.

My thick middle finger finds your tightness.

Such violence in your gagging throat, such peace above, my lips teasing your sweet pussy.

Such strain on all my muscles to attain this position, this range of motion. Wanting so much to taste you, feeling you clench around my finger as I part you roughly, entering you deeply there with one savage, piercing movement, matching the movement of my cock with my finger, until finally my kiss reaches you.

Lips upon lips. The softness astounds us.

I find your tiny cock. You explode instantly up into my mouth, wrenching and fighting against the ropes as you press your flesh squarely into my hunger. This is what I love, this is what it is all for: to witness your inhibitions disintegrating, your will evaporating, my successful mastery of you, and your successful submission.

Your hips are bucking like a wild animal, ankles and wrists turning deep red with straining. I can't tell them from the blood-red ribbons that bind them. I need not move my mouth over you, and even have trouble keeping my lips pressed against you there as my finger and cock reach deeper and faster into your mouth and ass... deeper and faster, deeper and faster, straining, groaning, fucking, breathing racing, hearts pounding...

So intense together, my little girl. Sweet, hot little Adrienne.

In the middle of our thrashing, while our minds fall away and thoughts dismantled, bodies reborn, we can feel it beginning -- you with a heat in your belly, and me with a pressure building.

As your whole body tenses, becoming rigid, I know you are cumming and I hold your thighs still so I can get all of you into my mouth. I move one hand down to cover your throat as I fuck your mouth feverishly, and with one final and violent thrust, I release myself deep into your gripping tightness, sending my hot liquid surging into your belly.

You have no choice but to swallow and swallow and I hear you gurgling, as I pump stream after stream of sour nectar into your heaving body. You are nursing like a babe at the tit. This is your nourishment.

I can feel your lips tightening, squeezing me dry, with my hand feeling you swallow my sweet release, my sweat dripping down onto your thighs. You grunt between swallows, your throat ravaged.

I continue fucking your mouth -- too harshly perhaps -- grunting and chanting, "perfect, perfect, perfect, yes" in rhythm with my thrusts as they slowly lose their urgency and your hips buck less violently upwards into my mouth.

You taste like earth and honey.

When your thighs cease twitching and my cock begins to grow soft inside you, I let out one last sigh, and close my eyes, heart racing but slowing; head full of stars; smiling; embedded in you. I drift off.

* * *

I am awakened by you rolling from side to side, trying to dislodge me from you. I had slept soundly for an hour now, with my soft cock still inside your mouth.

"Wake up, dammit, wake up!" you yell. You know better, young lady. I have taught you better than that.

I untie your ankles from the futon, and quickly pull your body entirely over your head, so that you are on your knees. You screech. Muscles tense and ache against the strain when your position changes. Already you are apologizing, your mistake so obvious, so foolish, begging forgiveness, trying to explain it away.

Taking out a knife and slicing your silk bindings, I push you roughly forward so that your torso is over the cushion. Violently I tear down your already ravaged pajama bottoms, along with your soaked little panties, until they rest at your upper thighs. I take great pleasure in spanking your shiny white ass, soaked with your juices, hard and then harder, until you plead between your sobs. "I'm sorry Master, I'm sorry, please, please..."

Until my hands sting, until I can't control your wiggling and squirming.

But I can smell your arousal. I can feel the warmth of your desire. Without knowing it you are moving your knees closer and closer together, forcing your beautiful bottom high into the air, higher with each sharp stinging slap, making it so pleasurable to spank you.

Predictably your cries and tears arouse me. As though I had never emptied my balls into your greedy throat. I pull you back towards me, my resolve cementing.

I grab at your hair, and snap your head back, and say in a calm, stern tone, "You know better than this, little Adrienne. You know very well what happened the last time you disobeyed me."

I spread you wide open with my fingers, and move my pelvis against your ass, reaching down with my right hand, to guide my cock quickly and abruptly to the opening of your tightness. Secretly I love when you disobey me this blatantly.

I press the tip hard against you there, and tell you to plead for forgiveness.

You sob, you strain, trying to escape, knowing what I am about to do to you. Then suddenly, you stop. You are still.

I hear something tumbling from your lips, a whisper, a whimper between sobs, between short little gasps of breath.

"Pardon me, Adrienne?" I say as I snap back your head with one hand, and slap your ass hard with the other. You are mouthing that "safe" word. So old, it is dusty and covered in spider webs and you have pulled it up from the cellar to lay in front of me. Now, of all times. When my need to be buried into you nearly overwhelms me.

My consideration of you short, I push forward, ramming my rigid cock as deeply into you as I can, and then begin to ravage you. Before you can inhale, before you can form a thought, my thighs are slapping furiously against your bare, sore, bruised bottom. I can feel the heat from my blows, your red skin warming my thighs.

I ask you what you want, slamming into you savagely, balls slapping against your little cunt. You spread your legs to move your burning ass away from the onslaught and I spank you sternly for moving. "Hold still, young lady, hold still."

As I continue, your resistance withers as it always does, and the pain begins to slide away. The heat and friction drill lust into your belly and that fuzziness rises into your head. Your heart begins beating in your throat and you hold tightly to your final resistance. "No, no no no no no," you whisper almost audibly.

But you feel it slipping away. Slipping away as I pound into you. Slipping away as your muscles give way. Slipping away as you recall me from your girlhood dreams. Slipping away as you accept that I am he, the one you've been waiting for.

I perceive you've crossed this forbidden barrier, for you begin to push back against me, meeting each lunge with one of your own, pushing your ass back as much as the restraints will allow. The burning red flesh of your bottom ripples with each meeting of our bodies, my hands pushing hard into the small of your back, your arms splayed out wide, fingernails scraping at the taught fabric. Head against the back of the futon. You groan deeply into the pillow. I can hear my thrusts, the coming together of our thighs, in your voice, your erratic breathing. Then all wanting and all need brace together into one long smile of a growl.

This is when I know that you are mine for the taking.

I take hold of your hair with one hand, and snapping back your head, wrap the other around your white throat, choking you, and push one last time, urgently into your sore hole. One more time as deeply as I can, one more time to complete my possession of you, one more time so that there are no doubts left, and I release myself into you. My lust, my possession of you and my love for you collide as I send hot thick streams deep into you.

saraza
saraza
1 Followers
12