Sir and I play a little game sometimes that’s just a drop too taboo and way too blushy to write about.
touch
The Party Sub, Part Eight
While I was being hogtied on the floor, a few people approached Sir and asked him while he still had his clothes on. He wasn’t the only person there still fully clothed, but I guess people were curious because I’d basically been in a complete state of undress since midnight.
This girl that Sir and I kind of know cut him off before he could explain, declaring that it was “cmnf” and insisting that he not remove his clothes. She was pretty vehement about it, too.
So, ah, I guess somebody else was enjoying it, too?
Tonight’s my last night with Sir for a while.
We’re sitting beside each other on his couch: reading tumblr, snuggling, sneaking some touches. I’m going to miss him a lot and we’re not sure yet exactly when we’ll see each other again date-wise.
I’ve sustained a few little bumps and bruises from today. Nothing major, but enough to let me be a pouty girl and put this photo of a girl with a very bruised ass up and pretend that I can identify with her.
But, crap, I’m going to miss him a lot.
“No mask this time,” Sir told me, “just pretty you. Your pretty face. Maybe I’ll let you bring your blindfold just in case, but you’re not escaping behind a mask this time.”
(I’m so nervous and excited I’m not sure I will be able to sleep.)
Sir told me the other day that I was lovingly owned.
Just kind of been melting over that for the past week or so.
The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Three
I was rather exhausted, so we ended the night with me sucking Sir’s cock and taking a little nap right after in his arms that turned into a few hours of sleep. I woke back up and Sir had me brush my teeth and get ready before he tucked me in and put me to bed.
The following afternoon, Sir had me take off my clothes and lie down on my stomach. He put my new cuffs on and secured them together over my head. “Are you ready, girl?” he asked, running his hand over my bare ass.
I should clarify that lately I’ve been opening up to him about wanting to explore some territory that I had been previously closed the door on. Basically, in the past, I’d had my trust betrayed to such a degree that I backed away from some of the more extreme forms of submission that I really do want. Time and again, Sir has proved himself trustworthy and so I opened up to him about some of the things that I wanted.
To avoid any more digression, I’ll leave it at this: I wanted to be encouraged to endure the pain Sir gives me and not just safeword on the first instinct. Because I wanted to deepen my submission to Sir, and because he enjoys inflicting pain, I wanted to get better at taking this pain.
So, I let him cane me. To make sure I would be able to handle the pain and as a preemptive reward for doing it, Sir allowed me to have Mr. Purple on in my pussy.
First, he started caning me. The first hit was unexpectedly painful – I’d never been caned before – and I cried out. He worked his way up, spacing out his hits, checking in with me while I squirmed and shrieked.
Next, he moved over to his set of floggers and crops and returned with a new toy that he had made. It was leather and consisted of two thick tails, an impossibly threatening and mean-looking tool he waved with a smirk. “It’s called a tawse,” he explained, “they used to use these to punish schoolboys.”
I could only take two hits before I was screaming, and Sir switched over to the strap before returning to using the cane. Strangely, the hits stopped hurting and were instead just a series of thuds that almost felt kind of good. My cries subsided into moans. “Are you hitting gentler, Sir?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, “that’s just the endorphins.” When we finished, he held me and told me how proud he was. And, honestly, I was pretty damn proud of myself.
Still, for the whole ordeal, the marks were still gone by that evening.
The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Two
“But, Sweetheart,” Sir said, chuckling as I slipped my panties down and spread my legs. “It’s supposed to go in your butt.”
I pouted and shook my head, “it’s too big. I want to feel it in my pussy.” Maybe it wasn’t the biggest, it wasn’t more than half of an inch thicker than my buttplug. But, it was long and curved and looked a little threatening. And, worst of all, it vibrated. On ten different speeds. TEN OF THEM.
Sir leaned down between my legs and started to tease my pussy with his fingers so that I would be wet enough to take the toy. I shivered, excited and thrilled to be touched by him again after so long. When I had gotten wet enough, he eased the vibrator into my pussy.
Slowly, he took me through the speeds. One after the other, I felt myself slipping closer to orgasm, then jumping a bit from a few with some abrupt speeds, then settling in as he left it on at a consistent hum.
“Baby,” he teased, “look what you’ve done. You’ve leaked right out onto my sheet.”
I blushed and reached up to cover my face.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, my darling.
It’s hard for me not to fuss sometimes about myself and the way I look. But sometimes he takes pictures of me and leaves them on my phone. And I have to stop and look at my body and all its bumps and curves and marks and think the whole thing is kind of a little more than the petty stuff.
Sir says I should stop rubbing and just get to bed already.
But I think that’s silly.
And that I have better priorities.
“Sweetheart, didn’t I give you your allowance this week already?”
“Uh huh.”
“And? Where’d it go?”
“I spent it all. I just want a little bit more to go shopping, Sir.”
“I spoil you rotten. You know that, Sweetheart?”
“Uh huh.”