full service

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Full Service, Part Eight 

We were curled up together in bed afterwards. Craftsmate had untied me and my head was kind of spinning. I had kind of fallen back into subspace during sex once more, especially when he pulled out and made me cum by grinding his thumb really hard into my g-spot. He knows I like the tension between things hurting and feeling pleasurable, such as getting overstimulated by a vibrator or getting spanked on my cunt.

But, anyway, I was a little hazy. The inside of my mouth tasted like condom and cum and I wanted to close my eyes for a bit.

Craftsmate reached over and pinched my nipples between his fingers. “You know, if I ever collar you and own you,” he said, pinching a little harder, “I would pierce these with little rings.”

“We’ll talk about it, Sir,” I replied.

He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Of course. I’d never make you. But maybe one day.” He released my nipples. “Anyway, you were a very good girl today.”

Swelling with pride, I let my eyes close and curled up in his arms.

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Full Service, Part Seven

Craftsmate rolled me back over onto my stomach, setting the vibrator back underneath me and turning it on low. Carefully, he pulled the plug out of my ass. However, I got a bit too excited and clenched on it as he was pulling it out, which resulted in it feeling awful unpleasant.

Gently, he pushed a finger into my ass and started sliding it in and out. I moaned, burying my face in the sheets as he turned the vibrator on high.

“Come on,” I mumbled, my voice barely a whine. “Just fuck me, please.”

I craned my neck to look over at him. He was smirking, a little sparkle in his eye as he pumped his finger a little harder. “Fuck me, who?” He turned the vibrator off and set it aside.

“Oh, God, please fuck me, Sir,” I whined, squirming against his finger. Suddenly, he withdrew it and I heard him ripping a condom wrapper open.

He tugged my body to the edge of the bed and entered me with a rough thrust. With his hips, he pushed my legs further apart and started pounding into my cunt. Despite the way my body was being rocked against the bed and my efforts to thrust back against him, I managed to rest my head down on the sheets and felt myself grin.

It’s so nice when you get what you want.

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Full Service, Part Six 

What happened next is a bit blurry. I had gotten really subspaced and, as a result, had a lot of trouble keeping track of things. According to Craftsmate, later that evening, when I thought I had been saying things to him in complete sentences, I was actually only saying one or two words. 

This is where I stress how important it is to be with someone you really trust when you get that deep. I am serious here. Don’t go trusting the good stuff with the people who don’t deserve it.

I had been resisting letting myself get that deep with him because of an experience in the past with someone else I used to be with. Basically, he pushed me super deep, I figured I could trust him, and he took advantage and did some stuff that was really not okay. 

But, this time was really amazing and I feel good about letting go. He didn’t betray my trust and he checked in with me a lot. 

At some point, I wound up on my back again. I remember he kept making me hold the vibrator between my thighs in order to have it on my clit and I would wind up squirming, making the vibrator fall off. Then I would have to shuffle around and try to push the vibrator up towards one of my hands with my knee. When the clamps became too much, I whined that I needed them off and he removed them for me. 

For all the haziness, I remember distinctly how badly I needed him to fuck me and how much I pleaded.

“I want your cock,” I begged, grinding up against the vibrator between my legs, “please, Sir, I want your cock so bad.”

Craftsmate laughed and pushed some of my hair from my face. “Awww, baby, now you want my cock? First you wanted the vibrator and now you want this, too? Remember how badly you wanted it?”

He reached down and turned the vibrator off, prompting me to squeal in frustration.

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Full Service, Part Five

Craftsmate slipped the tweezer clamps onto my nipples before picking up the flogger. He started to beat my thighs, stomach and chest in quick, sharp hits. However, I noticed that he was holding back a bit, carefully ensuring that he was not hitting me too hard.

Usually, I appreciated when he did this. I’m not much of a masochist. However, as subspaced as I was, I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper and I wanted it to really, genuinely hurt.

“Harder,” I gasped out. He looked a bit surprised, but he swung the flogger harder. I continued to beg, “harder, please, Sir, please…" 

Soon, he rolled me over onto my stomach. I squealed and winced as my clamped nipples pushed into the bed. The pressure sent a sharp, persistent pain through my breasts. 

"Ow,” I whined, squirming to try to find a better position. However, the hogtie left me very few options.

“Aww, it hurts?” He teased, attaching the clover clamps to my pussy lips. My breath caught as he gave a sharp tug to the clamps, forcing them to squeeze my labia tighter. He slipped the vibrator underneath me, lining it up with my clit and turning it on low. “Does that make it all better?”

I moaned, grinding up onto the vibrator, “uh huh.” I caught myself. “Yes, Sir.”

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Full Service, Part Four 

Once I had the panties stuffed into my mouth, Craftsmate ordered me to get down on my hands and knees, lower my chest to the floor and stick my ass in the air. Wordlessly, he picked up the flogger and started to beat my ass and back with it. 

I groaned around my panties, my toes clenching with each hit. He leaned down, gathering up the rope and moving me over to the bed. I laid down on my stomach and he took my wrists in his hand, starting to wind the rope around them.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered as he knotted off my wrists. “You get deeper when you do that, don’t you?”

I let my eyes close and allowed my body to relax as he tied each leg individually up to my wrists. That way, he could move the legs apart and fuck me easily when the time came.

When he finished tying my legs, my head was swimming and I could barely will my eyes open. Craftsmate sat at the edge of the bed, playing with my hair as he asked how I was feeling. I attempted to give him an answer, but I wound up mumbling into the panties instead.

“What’d you say, sweetheart?” He asked, pulling the panties out of my mouth.

“I want my vibrator,” I whined out, catching myself and repeating it, “please, Sir, I want my vibrator.”

He laughed, “not yet.” Still chuckling, he got up and went to fetch both pairs of nipple clamps, as well as the vibrator. When he returned to the side of the bed, he dropped the vibrator off to the side and rolled me over onto my back.

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Full Service, Part Three

Soon, we went up to my bedroom and I took out the items of our mutual sex toy collection that wound up at my place: two separate lengths of rope, a pair of tweezer-style nipple clamps, a pair of clover clamps, a flogger and my knockoff hitachi (whose power apparently pales in comparison to the real thing.)

He ordered me to remove my clothes and pointed for me to kneel in front of him. I obeyed, wanting to be good for him.

“Bring me the rope,” Craftsmate said. I obeyed as he moved to stand by my bed. “In your mouth.“

"Yes, Sir,” I replied, taking the rope into my mouth carefully and crawling over to him. I set it down at his feet and gazed up at him eagerly. As he reached down to muss my hair, I felt this really overwhelming urge to be good for him. I wanted so badly to just be a good girl.

So, I set to kissing his cock through his slacks, nuzzling it and staring up at him with my best pleading eyes until he removed his pants. “If you want me to let you go deep,“ he said, holding a fistful of my hair, “you’ll be a very good girl and treat my cock well.”

The only issue was that worshipping his cock made me subspaced anyway. It got to the point where I would deep throat him, pull back to breathe and feel so spacey and dizzy that I would slump forward. He would grab me back the hair and put me back onto his cock, letting me go deeper as he took charge.

“I’m deep already,” I murmured. My voice had gotten small. “I’m really deep.“

He smiled and settled down onto the floor beside me, holding me close. When he kissed my forehead and my cheeks, I felt myself swell in the warm way I do when he’s sweet while I’m starting to get really subspaced. 

"You want me to tie you up?” he asked, stroking my hair. I nodded, moaning softly. He reached down and picked up my panties. After balling them up, he held them out to me. “In your mouth. Now.“

Without objection, I accepted them and pressed the wad of lace past my teeth.

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Full Service, Part Two

I should begin by saying I hate reading the things I write. Even if I think it’s well-done, I try to avoid hearing my words read aloud, either in my voice or someone else’s. It makes me feel too transparent. I can’t really explain it.

Except, I’ve never had anything dirty I’ve written about someone else read aloud. I’ve had dirty little notes I’ve written to people read back to me, and sometimes I’ve even been forced to read them aloud myself. But, it was always in my voice and about me and what I wanted.

All that said, I really, really enjoyed Bright’s reading of my story. Not only because it was removed from me and about a fictional couple, but because Bright did it damn well. It was sexy and adorable and sweet.

So, Craftsmate decided to see for himself how much I enjoyed it. He ordered me to pull it up on my phone and he plugged in a pair of headphones. After I put them in my ears, he hit play and watched with a smirk as I listened to the story.

Somewhere in the middle, I can’t tell when, I closed my eyes. And, somehow, Craftsmate wound up holding my face in his hand while pushing the thumb of his other in my mouth. And, yes, I wound up sucking it.

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Full Service, Part One

Submitting out of the bedroom didn’t begin on the strongest note: I was late to meet Craftsmate’s train. However, he was understanding and we greeted each other warmly.

Gently, he took hold of my face and asked me if I knew what to call him today.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied softly and he grinned, pushing my hair from my face before reaching for my hand.

I was careful to walk a step behind him as we continued down the street. It was a gesture that he had expressed to me in the past was something he enjoyed. When he informed me that he had noticed, I was surprised at how proud I felt.

He waited until we were in relative privacy to check the second stipulation of how I was going to greet him today: that I would be plugged. Once he was sure the street was empty, he stopped me firmly before reaching down and pushing firmly against the handle of the plug through my jeans. With a smile, he took a moment to grope my ass before motioning for me to continue walking.

Usually, I tend to take charge when we’re going around my town. It’s my stomping ground, after all. And so it was an interesting exercise to allow him to lead, to gently prod him along by saying “it’s that way, Sir” without merely taking charge and directing him myself. 

While we were on the way to get something to eat, we were walking in the street next to a narrow stretch of curb about a foot wide. Without saying anything, he took hold of my shoulders and gently guided me over to walk up on the curb and out of the road. There was something so possessive and sweet about it.

At lunch, I poured out his soy sauce for him when I saw the sushi was about to arrive at our table, making sure to serve him before myself. We’re usually pretty “to each his/her own” about this sort of stuff, so I found I had to make a conscious effort to remember to be of service to him.

And, believe it or not, I kind of liked it.