It's been two weeks since Master went away with another. She's tried so hard to be good, working and coming home to cook and clean. She hasn't even texted him, as asked.
She would have tried not to anyway. She wants so badly to send him the pictures she takes of herself when she's so horny she can't think straight. Pictures of her open, exposed, vulnerable and wanting on her knees. But there's always her. The other one. The one before her. Fear that she might displease him keeps her from sending what she's always shared so willingly.
Soon, she hopes, he'll be home. Then he'll send for her. Maybe he'll even reward her for her good behavior. She can't help but hope that he will choose to finally give her what he once promised her. She knows he meant it as a threat, and she should be grateful that he didn't, but she hopes he'll do as he said he would. Bend her over a bench in the park up the street from his house. She hopes he'll humiliate her by ordering her to strip slowly for him before he spanks her. He's been gentle so far, but she knows its because she's new.
She appreciates his thoughtfulness and care of her, but she wants so badly to be hurt. To be hurt so much and for him to tell her not to give voice to her pain. She wants him to send her home with bruises and marks where she has to hide them. Little secrets only they share. Gifts from her Master to show he cares enough to mark her.
As she thinks these things, alone in her room, her fiance at work, she can feel herself grow wet. Wet and hot and tight for him.
She imagines him surprising her at work, she knows he has a massage owed him this month. He is, after all, a member. She imagines him showing up on Thursday, the day he's bid her call him, for a massage. She remembers the way it felt when she first saw him. How she immediately responded to the scent of him and the way he held himself. She imagines how it would be to see him again now, about a month later, knowing that he wants her too and also how good he can make her feel. Knowing that he more than lives up to the vaguely formed fantasies she couldn't help but imagine.
She runs her fingers down her stomach, softly, the way she allows no-one else to because it tickles. She shivers at the way it feels but doesn't stop because thinking of him, it feels wrong to allow herself only pleasure. She knows the discomfort heightens her senses.
She sees herself trying so hard to give him the massage he deserves, so wet and wanting as she touches his naked skin, recognizing it for the gift it is, hoping he can't tell how he affects her, simply by laying there and allowing her to touch him any way he likes, knowing her sense of professionalism won't allow her to touch him the way she wants.
She imagines that he's her last client of the day. She imagines that he leans her up against the wall, hand on her throat, cutting off her air, and kisses her before he leaves.
"I will be waiting." Four words. She knows that will be all it takes to make her knees shake and her body overly sensitive.
"Yes, sir." She knows that is the only answer he will accept. Its the only answer she wants to give.
As she does her final sheet change and SOAP notes, she wonders what he has planned. Its been so long, she aches to just be allowed to be around him. She aches to feel him press deep down her throat the way she knows he likes.
In the real world, she allows her fingers to slip up and tease her nipples. As insensitive as they are, she loves the way they harden and peak. She imagines her fingers are his as she pinches first one and then the other, hard, merciless, the way she knows he does. A soft moan slips from between her lips as the sharp pain slides through her body.
She sees herself get into his car, the way she has before. She buckles her seat belt, a habit she retains, even knowing that he's just as likely to order her to take it off to suck him as he is to leave her waiting till they get to his home.
"Unzip my shorts, I want to feel your little hands on my cock" God! Just hearing him speak makes her silently thank God that she doesn't blush as easily as she knows she should as heat courses through her body. She hurries to comply, trying to steady her suddenly shaky hands.
"Hmm," she sighs, unable to repress this small signal of her satisfaction at being allowed to hold him again. She feels him begin to harden in her deft hands and shivers, hoping that her efforts will be rewarded tonight.
