I’m not usually allowed to wear clothing in the house. He says it covers up my pretty body, which should be readily accessible to him at all times. The only exceptions to this rule are when I’m cold and I ask permission to wear a robe to keep me warm, or when he wants me to wear something in particular that’s appealing to him. After several years of this protocol, nudity has come to feel like my natural state. It’s when he tells me to put something on that I know fun things are about to happen.
He kisses me awake, first my eyelids then my lips. My eyes flutter open. I smell hot coffee.
“Good morning, Sir,” I say sleepily.
“You’re going to drink your coffee, then you’re going to go and put those pretty knickers on for me. You know the ones I like – the black lace.” My cunt twinges and I feel a knot of excitement growing in my belly. This sounds like a very promising prelude to something.
I sip my coffee leisurely while I allow my mind to wander to what might be on Sir’s mind. My cunt is getting ridiculously wet already. Sir always tells me it’s embarrassing how drippy I get. I tell him it’s because he won’t let me touch it without permission, and at least half the times I ask for permission he tells me no. Then he laughs at me and calls me a silly desperate slut and reminds me that he’ll lock it away in a chastity belt if he ever catches me touching it without permission. I don’t. The ache is hard, but disappointing him would be a thousand times worse.
I swing my legs out of bed and pad over to the chest of drawers, pluck out the requested knickers and slip them over my hips, smoothing the lace over my ass. I also pull my hair out from its ponytail and shake it out over my shoulders. Sir likes it loose and flowing – more to grab on to, he says.
He comes back in just as I’m admiring my reflection in the full-length mirror.
“Yes, you’re gorgeous,” he agrees, looking at me approvingly from across the room. “Now get over here and get on your knees.”
I scurry across the room and fall to my knees at his feet. He strokes my hair, tells me I’m a good girl, his pretty kitty. I melt.
He moves behind me and I hear him grabbing something from the drawer where we keep our toys. I know better than to turn around and see what he’s doing. I feel him crouch behind me, brush my hair aside and kiss my neck. A shiver runs down my spine and through my body. My nerves are taut, waiting. Fuck. This man knows how to play my reactions like an instrument.
The rope encircles my left wrist. He ties it off in a quick single-column and then secures it fast to my ankle. The right side gets the same treatment. I test the bonds, just to make quite sure I can’t wriggle out of them.
“Keep still, slut.”
He moves back to stand before me. Grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me by it into the kneeling-up position. Kisses me hard. I moan against his mouth, entirely taken. Entirely his. God, I’m dripping. I must be staining the pretty panties and probably the carpet beneath me, too.
He releases me. I watch, sure that my hunger is evident in my face, as he unbuttons his jeans and lets his hard cock spring free.
“You want this?” he asks, gently stroking it with one hand, inches from my face. I nod furiously. “Of course you do, cock-loving slut that you are. You’re going to have to ask really nicely though.”
“Please can I have your cock, Sir?”
“Where do you want it?”
“In my mouth, Sir.”
“Mmmm, are you sure you don’t just want to watch me get myself off over your lovely body?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir. Please let me suck your cock and serve you, Sir.”
With his free hand, he grabs one of my protruding nipples and twists it painfully. I squirm in my restraints. The other nipple gets the same treatment. I let out a squeak of pain. I am sure I see his hand grip his cock more tightly, stroking faster.
He laughs lightly. “Poor slut. It must be torture watching me wank in front of you, knowing your hands are tied and you can’t get what you want so much?”
“Mmm, I like it when you beg. But no.”
I whimper. It is, as he correctly identified, torture having his beautiful cock so close to me and not being allowed to touch it or suck it the way I want to.
“Today I’m just going to use you as a decorative toy to get off over.”
He strokes his cock harder. He moans and I watch the way his body tenses as he brings himself closer to orgasm. Then his hand is in my hair again, dragging my mouth to his, the kiss swallowing the sound he makes when he comes. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as I feel his come splash over my breasts.
He pulls back and looks down at me, a wicked smile on his lips. “Filthy girl. Let’s get you untied and in the shower.” A final kiss. “Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get my cock in your mouth next time.”
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This week’s image is by Molly Moore and shared with permission as part of Masturbation Monday.