“Don’t look away, keep that mouth open”
I was tied to one of the dining chairs, my ass resting on the edge with my knees bent back so my legs were out of the way, running backwards along the edges of the seat and tied off to the backrest. My arms bound tightly behind my back, the rope pulled taught and run between the headrest and seat before being looped underneath the seat to be tied off to the front legs of the chair.
The overall effect leaving me completely exposed before him, legs spread and back arched, I was already panting, feeling breathless, rugged and thoroughly used. It had already been a long and rough night leading to this point, tears stinging my eyes and staining my cheeks as I looked at him pleadingly, silently begging although no longer aware of what it was I truly craved from him – it could have been either more or less…I was no longer entirely certain which, just that I yearned for…something…from him. Anything.
I stared up at him with my confused longing, my mouth open, showing him the pool of cum he had just left there. I had been expecting to be given permission to swallow, I had expected to be untied and moved, I was prepared for and expected almost anything…anything except…
“Don’t look away, keep that mouth open”
Shifting a little in my restraints, my muscles beginning to strain, twitch and make their aches known as my mind settled on the realisation that release was anything but imminent.
Not daring to disobey as my eyes followed him across the room, slowly, painstakingly slowly he made his way to the bedside table, dragging the drawer open centimetre by centimetre…the sound of the wood sliding in its grooves reverberating in my mind as tears stung my eyes anew, the precious cum in my mouth already feeling as though it were swelling in volume as it lightly swirled against my tongue with a tender invitation to swallow and savour it, tempered with the threat of having it spill.Neither acceptable without the permission of Mister, his eyes locking onto mine as his lips began to curl in a sadistic grin, carefully and deliberately reaching into the drawer before removing the next object of his games with me for the evening…
The black journal. The daily journal I write and record my deepest and most depraved fantasies in, the one in which each page is filled with words and stories that never fail to make me stammer and blush, the one which I have never succeeded in reading even a single page aloud.
I could feel my cheeks already burning crimson, my hips shifting a little more earnestly only to be punished with a burning strain through my thighs. Each step he took toward me seemed exaggerated, defined with a certainty and composure further enhanced by the contrast in my own helpless, dishevelled and desperate state.
He dragged the armchair across the room until it was only a few feet from my chair before crouching in front of me to look me in the eye, a finger tenderly tucking a stray hair back behind my ears with mock pity.
“You’ve been such a good little slut for me tonight I thought you would enjoy me reading to you…but of course, there’s really only one book in existence that contains stories befitting such a lowly and pathetic creature like you, isn’t there?”
He held the journal up toward his lips, unable to stop myself, feeling the heat of humiliation course through my veins to burn crimson on every inch of my skin…I couldn’t have stopped the reaction even if I had been conscious of it…my eyes fell from his, casting themselves downwards in shame, unable to meet his gaze as my mind taunted me with memories of what I had written and the renewed wetness pooling between my legs and staining the seat betraying me by revealing exactly what effect some of those thoughts had on me.
I had looked away for barely a second, but it was enough. A sharp slap across my face sent the cum and drool I’d been so careful not to spill flying across the room and splashing onto the floor as the remnants smeared against his hand or landed in droplets like snowflakes against my skin.
The chair rocked a little and threatened to tip before Misters firm grasp had it settled in place once more.
“Pathetic”
The word was practically spat at me as he stood, wiping his hand clean in my hair before he moved and settled himself into the armchair, one leg stretching to rest on the the very edge of my seat, his toes finding the slick wetness leaking from between my legs and flexing a little, flickering across my sensitive clit and sending volts of electric energy along my spine.
“Let’s try this again. Don’t look away, you might as well close that mouth of yours now though, I guess. Such a shame you wasted such a generous reward. I would have let you savour that one.”
Moaning in earnest as his words burnt new levels of shame into me, straining to keep my eyes focused on him as he began to read my own words aloud to me…leaving absolutely no room for questions about exactly how dark, dirty and depraved my desires and fantasies can truly be.
I had thought we were done for the night, but in seven simple words he had really told me our first night of holidays together had only just begun…
“Don’t look away, and keep that mouth open”
Seven words that will forever be burnt in my memory as the tone of our 2016 Christmas break together.
~Wyn xx
