Masters Toy 2

Entering our home you see me kneeling as expected. Head and chin held high, eyes lowered, as is your wish. I’m freshly shaved, with knees spread wide revealing my efforts. My palms are turned upwards and rest lightly on my thighs. It is the position. Our position; the position of total submission.

You study my hair, then makeup. A smile suggests you are pleased with the results. Stepping closer you smell the light, feminine fragrance of my perfume you chose it for me so long ago. “Tis our smell.” I remember your words.

Next come my collar and chains. A slight tug suggests they are placed correctly, and again you smile. With tenderness only of a pleased Master, your hand drifts down my stomach. As much as I try, I can not stop the shudder that runs through my body at your touch. I sense your mood is good, for normally such a base reaction would bring harsh words, but tonight? I feel my excitement climb.

Your fingers find my womanhood. With practiced ease of ownership, you slip them inside me, testing to see my condition. I sigh as the fingers leave me. Again I feel incomplete….nothing. I watch mesmerized as you sniff the fingers, testing the scent, testing to see if my body has reacted as desired. With another smile you nod a yes, and offer me the digits to clean. Without hesitation my mouth opens and my tongue glides across your fingers sucking them clean of my juices. Pleased with my display you rise. A solid tug on my chains beacons me to follow.

I have passed your inspection. Without a word you pull out your notebook and begin checking I have completed the household chores as you expected. You smell the intoxicating aroma of fresh cut Gardenias, a little something extra I provided, you nod at the effort. I relax slightly. I didn’t know how you would react, but again I have pleased you. I store the information in the back of my mind for next time.

We walk to the sofa where I have your paper at the ready and a glass of Port poured for your enjoyment. You sit and take a sip of your drink. It is my sign to kneel before you…to begin removing your shoes and socks…to begin helping you shed the worries of the day’s work. You ignore me as you begin to read the paper. Knowing my place, I start to massage your feet for you, taking the time to lovingly kiss each toe as you have instructed.

A rustle of the folding paper brings me a warning. “Is Master ready for his meal?”

“Yes,” You release my chains

I hurry to grab the tray I’d prepared earlier. I feel my stomach growl as the rich aromas attack me. Should have eaten early, I argue with myself. And then you would not have everything ready. I answer back. A small amount of hunger is nothing compared to pleasing my Lord.

Months of training come into play, as I lay the tray down, then take my ready position, and wait for you to place your choices on my back. As each dish is placed I am slowly transformed into a human table. It has taken many months, and not a few burns for me to learn how to keep my head up, and arse slightly titled to stop any spillage. Reaching down you gather my chains around your wrist, another delightful twist. For each movement of your hands as you eat, tugs the chains, and tries to make my body react. Pleased with my responses I feel the warm touch of your hands over my arse, or the gentle rub against my clamped nipples. I force my body to remain still, but allow myself the luxury of a little gasp of pleasure. Normally a swat on the arse would accompany such behavior, but not tonight, I have judged your mood well.

The meal finished we move to the bathroom. You test the warmth with a nod, and indicate it is time to undress you. A cloud of steam heavy with the scent of oils waft as I watch you lower yourself. I wait the required time, then begin the slow process of cleansing and massage. Time seems to stop as I glorify every inch of your body, muscle ease away the burden of the day, and you begin to smell like Master again. I snap back to the now with a hard tug of my chains. It is time to get out. I stand at the ready to dry and dress you. But once again tonight is different, it isn’t my imagination. You really are up to something.

I follow one pace behind as we move back to the living room. Your book lays open, the port snifter at room temperature. I know the drill…the training, there must be more I decide as I take my position at your feet, my head resting in your naked lap.

One tug of the chains means arousal. Practiced instinct takes over as I plunge my mouth over your manhood. I open my throat, fight the gag reflex as you enter deeper and deeper into me. My task is to distract you, make you loose the place you are reading. To succeed is to be favoured with a stroke of my hair - a signal to pull back, to rest my tired mouth, till once again you require the stimulation. Time has no true meaning during this ritual. When I pleasure you I am whole, joined as one with my Master. To stop is agony, to not have you, to not be allowed to fulfill my birth rite – to be your submissive. This ritual is not about loving; it is far deeper than that. At some base level I can never see myself anywhere else in the universe. A mere smile from you is enough to arouse. A kind word, enough to trigger an orgasm. It is these moments of clarity I understand I am the luckiest person in the world.

A wave of your hand says stand. With deliberate movement you put the book away, finish the drink and raise yourself from the chair. We stand before each other, almost eye to eye. Your nakedness is strength. Mine pure submission. Your hands begin to roam, exploring testing your property. Many times you have done this, but each time it feels new, as if the first time all over again.

A hand finds my sex and with exquisite gentleness fingers descend onto my nub. I see a soft smile on your face as my body reacts without hesitation to your touch. Slowly you step backwards. I am compelled to follow or risk loosing the contact I crave. Guided by the tug of chains, I realize the bedroom is to be the place of honor, the place you have decided, my fate will be decided.

Once in the bedroom, a sharp grab at my throat signals to stop. Without looking, you leave the room. Again my training dictates to remain as I am. To be/do whatever Master instructs, till he tells me otherwise. I have no idea how long you were gone, my body says hours, yet my mind understands it is only minutes.

You re-enter and kneel before me. I look down with pride as I feel cold steel touch my ankles. The spreader bar! My heart skips, I was not imagining, Master is in a mood, a mood to test me to my limits. As he secures the device, it is all I can do to fight the orgasm building deep within.

Next my wrists, bound in soft cloth you raise them over my head and tether me to the hook over the doorway. My breathing quickens as I enjoy the sensations of bondage, the feeling of helplessness, the total reliance on you for my safety.

I hear it before I see it. Our vibrator, not the biggest, but one of my favourite ones. Across my stomach you begin, the soft humming thrilling me to the core. Up between my breasts, pausing over my clamped nipples, the tingle against the metal can only be described as exquisite.

Almost at the point of release you pull away, my body thrusts against my bindings, needing, wanting. You smile a mischievous smile, yes that would be too easy, too simple to let me come that way. You stand for a moment, an artist considering the last dab of colour to complete the masterpiece. Then with lighting speed, almost an under hand thrust, you drive the vibrator deep into my sex.

“Of fuck.” I hiss fighting against the wave of pleasure, to be entered, filled, my pussy convulses but I force the urge away, gain control of myself. Concentrate on the breathing. Yes, Master always said that. “Girl it is in the breathing.

He allows all this to happen with amazing patients…then speaks. “Hold my toy for me….do not let it slip, and do not cum, little one.” I nod in understanding, as he leaves the room.

I am almost beyond myself, soaring in some other place. It is all I can do to stop the orgasm, to concentrate on the task. “Come one.” I say out loud. “We can do this girl, Master knows we can.” I feel the device slip. “Shit.” I clench my teeth, forcing my sex to grip even harder on the warm plastic.

Tightening the grip only increases the pleasure. I allow a moan, it seems to help. I drift now, out of body, floating somewhere I’ll never truly know. I see my head loll back, mouth drooling, eyes almost closed with lust. I see tremours through my legs and thighs, glisten juice flowing from me almost like a waterfall.

Tingling arms bring me back, the blood flow cut is now having an affect, drawing me in, centering me on who, what I am.

“Please Master,” I whimper, knowing he wont answer. “Please.” I hiss again, as another convulsion threatens to take me away.

Almost with fear I hear you return. Often your mere presence and power is enough to trigger my release. I watch as you check how I am going. With a smile and a nod you whisper “Soon my slut,” before taking me in an open mouthed kiss.

My whole body feels in motion, grinding towards your body, my back flexing trying to find a safe place to rest. Suddenly I feel the vibrator move, instinct makes me grip harder before I realise it is you who is moving it.

You suck my tongue into your mouth and bite down on it, taking me, joining with me to create a single entity. You feed on my need, as I revel in your power. I feel the vibrator slide out, then back in. I know the only reason I don’t come is your kiss. If you released me, I would be beyond redemption, and I would fail you.

As usual you judge the moment to perfection. The vibrator disappears, the kiss, only a memory. You regard me again, not with love or tenderness, but butcher inspecting a carcass. You untie my hands, again wrap my chains on your wrist. You push me to the bed. With a shove I fall face first. A slap on the arse and a tug of my hair tells to kneel with my face pressed into the bed. The service position you call it.

I sense you move behind me, hands inspect me, then….The breath hisses from me. I can feel you, pressing against me, inch by inch you fill my arse, your arse as you call it. “No Slut.” You sense I may loose it. You rest for a moment, then with another slap of you hand you begin to slowly thrust in and out of me.

“Who owns you slut?” You slap me again.

“You Sir,” I whimper.

“Who is my fuck toy?”

“You.” My answer is cut off with another slap.

Each slap makes your manhood throb, pulse inside me. Surely you must let me cum soon. I cry out as you pick up the pace, driving ever harder. Dear God I can see stars I am being fucked so hard. The slaps come faster, harder. I hear you yell an animal growl as you explode. I grip the bed, trying to hang on from the pounding. And yet, amid all the sensations, I realize I have held of my orgasm. With pride I feel you spent and panting collapse against me.

“Good girl.” You lean close, stroke my hair. “You have made Master so proud.” You add.

I begin to cry from your words as I feel you stiffen slightly. “Thank you Sir, but is you who is honoured by this sluts training and control.” I feel your cock stiffen more.

“Soon….soon you may cum.” You very slowly begin to stroke in and out again.

I know not to say anything, just keep control for the last few minutes.

“Girl watch the clock.” My eyes rivet on the bedside digital. I never understood why Master insisted on one that displayed seconds, till our first session.

“Count up to the minute.” You thrust a little faster. “At zero you may release.”

Oh God, I hated that. It was only twenty seconds, but it was the one task Master knows I struggle with.

As if in response he begins to fuck my harder. Reaching down he grabs the chains again, giving me a hard tug on each outward slide.

The numbers count down. It says zero.

“Cum.” You yell at me.

My world folds in on my sex. I feel my pussy open as I ejaculate down my legs. “Oh fuck,” I scream as my body explodes. Hands clenching the bed and I find myself headbutting the mattress as wave after wave of sheer pleasure roles through. I can hear you screaming as my reaction triggers your release.

Endless explosions. One…two…three, after the fifth orgasm I begin to re-enter the world. I feel you collapsed in sweaty exhaustion on my back. “Thank you Master.” I say through ragged breathing. The sense of ownership is overwhelming. To be controlled, brought to orgasm as required. I struggle to remember a time when it was otherwise. That I could please you with my body, stirs sensations, almost embarrassed I realize I am still in need.

With absolute tenderness, you release my chains and caress my stinging arse. You clean me, tend to me, finally you change the bed linen. Everything is fresh and new again. With a gentle kiss you guide me into bed. Spooning in behind me, I feel your fingers find my sex. With slow sensuous movements you again bring me to orgasm – this one is different, no instructions, no delay, I am to simply enjoy my body A reward for pleasing you so much, this alone makes the orgasm all the more intense and needed.

I lay there quietly letting my breathing come back to normal, my body wracked with exhaustion, and the words I love you, ringing in my ears as I drift of to sleep.