An Hour of Adoration

Your note was short and to the point, like so many of your orders for the hour you were with me. My breath caught as I read it.

"Sleep in my purple panties. Wear them tomorrow morning when you meet me for breakfast. Knock on my door promptly at 0800. No touching yourself tonight. But do think about my hands all over you tomorrow."

Lifting the panties, the aroma of you wafted up to me. One question settled then, you did have them on when you were here. And now I get to wear them tonight and tomorrow morning, at least through breakfast.

"Sleep" you had written. Yeah, right. In your panties, which you soaked with your juices while teasing and hurting me.

How must this look to you? Here I am, in bed, need still written all over my face, breathing still a bit unsettled, my eyes going unfocused as I remembered our encounter. And my cock coming back to full throbbing just by thinking about you, fighting the urge to touch, to stroke, to reenact how you hurt it, wishing I could feel more than just the soft brush of your lips and tongue on it. Wishing I could hear the crack of the ruler again, wishing your laughter at my moans and whimpers and then cries of pain would fill the empty silence of the room.

No good. Still not anywhere near sleeping. Maybe I can put on the blindfold again and at least block out the room. So I sat up and reached over to the nightstand.

Oh crap, it's not there. But there is another note.

"I'm keeping the blindfold; you looked great in it. Now get to sleep, boy."

Right. Yes, Miss, I'll get right on top of that. Just as soon as my evenmore throbbing cock forgets how much I liked you being here for that hour.

There I was, kneeling in front of the bed, back to the door, just before our meet-up time. Nothing on but the blindfold, as you had "requested".

You came in quietly, and said nothing. I heard you moving behind me, and then felt a sharp crack across my bare ass. "Nice," you said to me, sternly but, I hoped I wasn't imagining it, a bit playfully.

"Thank you, Miss."

"Good boy. Stand."

I lifted myself up, stretched a bit to relax my muscles in my legs and waited, hands at my sides, nervously.

"Oh? Is that any way to greet me?" You let me stew with that question a moment, then your hand reached out and roughly tugged at my cock, which was so nervous it was having trouble staying hard. Then the tug turned into a caress and a stroke, and my hips responded and I got hard in your hand and I heard your mocking laughter.

"Slut. Better, but you are such a slut."

"Yes, Miss, thank you."

"Now you take over, boy."

"yes, M--" I started, and then your hand covered my mouth.

"Just do it."

My left hand moved and wrapped around my shaft, stroking slowly, sensually, up and down. My lips parted a little and I put my head back, just enjoying the pleasure of touching myself. Knowing that you were watching me, wondering what you thought. I forced myself to concentrate, to give you the show you would like. I wanted to just go for it, but I know you like prolonging my pleasure, inflicting it on me with such inflexible generosity.

So, first, I had my whole hand around the shaft, then I dropped my ring and little fingers, so just my thumb and first two fingers traveled along my length, then I paused and traced circles around the head and underneath and then I went back to stroking.

A sudden gasp escaped me as your hand gently cupped my balls. I felt your breath tickle my ear as you whispered, "Keep going." I did. And you started to squeeze. Light and short at first, then without any warning, long hard squeezes, punctuated by my moans and thrusts, then back to a gentle squeeze and a tug downward, stretching out my sack.

The pinching on my nipples, I understood, was a reminder to keep my rhythm steady and constant. To accept your touch, your pain, your direction.

All that running through my mind as I try to drift off to sleep. Knowing that I have much more to look forward to tomorrow. I shifted around in the bed and got another reminder of your time with me. My ass was still aching from the ruler you used on it. And truth be told, the several minutes you used it on my balls were still fresh in my memory too. It's a delicious ache, and it leaves me wanting more, but it hurts and throbs and brought me so near orgasm that you had to stop. But there it is, you hurt me, you teased me, you told me when to be quiet and when to speak and I did it. I squirmed and begged, and all because that was what you wanted, and I did it, all for you.

And just when I thought I was going to cry or cum or pass out, or maybe all three, you said, "Well, our time is up. Go take a shower and get cleaned up for bed." Which I did, only to come out of the bathroom, find your note and start my process of drifting off, missing you and wanting to experience even more of you.

Good night, Miss. Your silky wet panties feel great on me and I will gladly wear them when I see you in the morning.