I sit back from my computer with a yawn. Stretching my arms over my head, I steal a glance at the wall clock. 18 minutes until freedom. Time has felt like it's been moving backward this afternoon.
I've been staring at the spreadsheets on my screen for so long that they're starting to blur. I rub my tired eyes and let my mind wander to my Sir, wondering how his day is going.
My phone has been conspicuously silent today; our normal steady stream of banter absent. Sir's attention has been needed elsewhere, and I'm not overly pleased about it. I miss him; the need to be near the man that owns me is an ever present dull roar in my body. Normally it's fed through frequent contact, but on days like today, I get edgy and uncomfortable waiting for the absence to end.
I lean back, close my eyes and thumb my collar, a dainty necklace with a BDSM symbol pendant. With a heavy sigh, I indulge in my favourite pastime for days like today...I fantasize. I think of my Sir's hands on me, the scrape of his calloused palms over my skin. The feeling of his mouth on me, the slight abrasion of his whiskers, the thrill of knowing that I'm his. I can almost feel his hands in my hair, and I shudder.
I love him always, but when my Sir gets extra Dommy on me, it makes me weak in the knees.
He's been going easy on me lately; indulging my love of cuddles, gentle attention and affection. But today I want more. So much more. I want my Sir to let loose. I want him to have his favourite pleasures.
Don't get me wrong, I love the tenderness, the love making, the way my Sir makes me feel like the most precious creature on the face of the planet, but dammit, I just want him to fuck me. There's nothing more erotic than the look my Sir gets when he's about to make me his fuck toy, and nothing more satisfying than pleasing him.
I'm willing to bet that today would be a good day to get what I want. My Sir may have some pent up frustrations from work. Maybe I could help him release them?
Slowly, a plan starts to formulate in my head. Maybe my Sir just needs to know that I've had enough gentle.
Maybe he's waiting for me to come to him.
He's given me specific instructions on how to request play time, but I've never used them. Maybe today would be a good day to change that.
I think of the last time he had his way with me, how he'd kissed me hard and deep, taking possession of my mouth with his tongue. Wrapping his fist in my hair and making me moan into his mouth. When he pulled back, it was to command,
"Kneel."
I'd dropped to my knees, his hand still clenched in my hair, and fumbled with his belt buckle, eager for his taste on my tongue. When his hard cock had sprung free from his pants, I'd parted my lips and snaked my tongue over the head, enjoying his sharp intake of breath. My Sir had taught me how to please him with my mouth, how to taste him with long, sweeping licks, just the way he liked.
"Look at me," he'd ordered, and I'd held his gaze while probing his slit with my tongue before taking the tip into my mouth and sucking gently. His hand had tightened in my hair and he'd shoved deeper, pressing into the back of my throat and holding steady while I fought my gag reflex. My hands had come up to grip his thighs, and I'd gasped when he'd pulled back, allowing me air before shoving back in. Tears had sprung into my eyes and slid down my cheeks from the invasion, but I'd loved every second.
"Good girl," he'd growled.
I'd moaned onto his dick, tipping my head back for his thrusts while he fucked my mouth. His eyes never left mine as he thrust over and over, and I'd felt him grow hard as granite before exploding onto my tongue. I swallowed and swallowed, trying to keep up. And when he slipped out of my mouth, he'd looked at me with pride and leaned down to kiss me again.
"That's my good girl, sweetheart. My very good girl."
Heat starts to spread through my core as I remember that look, those words. I want it again.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize how much time has passed; it's finally home time. Gathering up my things, I stumble gracelessly toward the door while feeling the dampness in my panties brush against my sex. I'm still lost in dazed fantasies of my Sir.
The commute home is short, and I spend the time planning how to approach Sir. I'm nervous. What if he says no? I'll be so embarrassed. What if I bite off more than I can chew? I'm willing to risk it. Sir would never really hurt me. The worst he can say is no. I can do this. And if he says yes? Bliss.
I reach home and let myself in, going through the normal motions. A quick check of the clock reveals plenty of time to prepare myself exactly as Sir likes me, and I head to the bathroom. I start the shower, and slide my clothes off my body, enjoying the glide of the fabric on my sensitized skin.
Naked, I turn to face the mirror with a critical eye. I take in my reflection, trying to see it the way my Sir does. My long, dark hair falls in heavy waves to the middle of my back. Side-swept bangs frame large, dark eyes. My skin is pale, which only makes the smattering of freckles across my nose more obvious. My ass and hips have a rounded flare that Sir traces often; my breasts perky and full. My sex is bare and smooth, just the way Sir likes it.
I think of Sir looking at my body as I'm doing now, as he's done countless times before. At first, I was awkward and self conscious, but now heat glows over the surface of my skin at only the thought. I remember how his hands feel moving over my skin, gliding over my curves, gripping my hips. I watch in fascination as my skin flushes pink with my thoughts. My nipples pebble, and my breath comes in shallow puffs. I'm so aroused. I can feel the moisture gathering between my thighs. But I'm not allowed to touch without permission. With a frustrated grumble, I turn away from the mirror and focus on preparing for Sir.
I get into the shower before I can be tempted to break a rule and touch myself, stepping under the warm spray. The water glides down my body, like fingers running over my skin. I moan as I let the warm stream cascade over the top of my head and down the back of my neck. My mind refuses to focus on anything but what may happen.
Will Sir refuse me?
Will he play with me, but not what I'm craving? That would still be ok.
Will he let me cum?
I'm desperate to.
My hands move over my body, soaping my taut skin with body wash. I dig my fingers into my shoulders, massaging my tired muscles as the scent of pomegranate and citrus fills the bathroom. I sigh in pleasure, slipping my hands over my breasts; trying to be methodical as goosebumps form from my own touch.
When I reach my aching sex, I have to bite my lip to stifle a whiny groan. My fingers slip between my pouty pussy lips and brush past my clit, sending a zing of electricity along my spine. I pull my hands away quickly. My fingers hover over my throbbing clit...It would be so easy to make myself cum right here. But no, I promised Sir. Not without his permission.
Taking a deep breath, I turn into the spray and rinse the soap off me.
Enough, I think to myself. Get out of here before I have to explain myself.
I make quick work of the rest of my shower, primping and polishing until every inch of me is clean and smooth. I dry off quickly, and pad softly back to the bedroom, remaining naked but for one of Sir's t-shirts and a pair of lacy panties.
My goal tonight is to set my Sir at ease. Let him unwind a bit before I approach him. If he's had a long day, he'll likely want to relax first. I'll set things the way he likes, and wait for him to call for me. He will. My Sir enjoys having me near him as much as I need to be there.
And he should be home any moment.
The rumble of his truck alerts me to his arrival...There's no being stealthy in that big, diesel guzzling man-toy. That's my cue.
I grab a beer from the fridge and set it on the table where he'll drop his keys, then head into the study. I know my Sirs routine. This is where he'll want to decompress. On the big sofa in front of his fireplace. This is where I'll give him a bit of space when he first comes home.