Reverie

You were working in your office Lord, I was chained to my latex-covered bed by an ankle-shackle, also working, writing, naked. I had already been summoned to act as human pissoir twice, dragging the chain behind me. The second time, culminating in an act of worship that had you bucking with lustful abandon in your chair and jerking thick sperm down my throat, before banishing me to my room while you finished your work. You mentioned kindly that my presence was too much of a distraction. I acquiesced, slinking off to my bed, jangling the chain, the beautiful chain which denotes my status as your sex-slave Lord.

Some while later I heard you speaking on the phone, obviously to a woman, telling her how much you were enjoying the photos she'd sent, asking probing intimate questions. This was nothing new to me, sprawled naked on the bed as I was, a willing accomplice in your seductions, yet during the flirtatious conversation you moved about my room... catlike...gathering items from drawers, your eyes glittering with perverse intent. A hand gesture to me to attend to my screen and not be so nosey, the look in your eyes brooking no argument, feeling your weight settle behind me, leaning back against the wall..your hand casually claiming my wet cunt as you chat flirtily to the woman...fingers working into my sucking depths...probing my anal star, petting me as one would a dog or cat, while purring filth with the prospect on the phone.

Accustomed as I am to satisfying your every whim, my body yours to use whenever and however you wish, I am still so aroused by each and every instance of that use, to be a conduit for your unquenchable lusts is all I crave. Each look or touch no matter how casual eliciting a thrill capable of flipping my stomach, causing my aureolae to pucker and prickle; a hydraulic push of fluid to dry my mouth as my cunt begins to leak copious fuck slime. Biting back moans of desire while you speak of fisting the bitch, while almost fisting your bitch describing your favourite toy, the inflatable butt plug, and how you would use it on her.

Gazing back at you with a sharp intake of breath as the cold smoothness of the inflatable butt plug is drawn through my puffy petals to gather lube...your eyes briefly burning into mine as you smile knowingly and drool a long string of saliva on to my winking pucker, then launching into a soaring monologue on the merits of a poly amorous lifestyle to the potential new seductee. Your left hand idly pressing that inflatable sex-toy deep into my rectum, not even looking while you do it, ensuring the snout of the plug is buried to it's base before pumping it up as i squirm and grunt.

The clink of your belt, that familiar sound, sending my heart racing; evoking the ghosts of so many wonders that follow that sound, my sex lips tingling with the memory of the beatings that seasoned strap has given. My feminine sex musk ingrained in the leather, blended with the stink of so many other sluts who have been fortunate enough to have the pleasure; just knowing you wear our essence every day enough to make my clit throb. The fabric slither as you shuck your trousers, thrilling to slippery music of your foreskin sliding back and forth. These aural delights telegraphing your arousal, signalling your intent.

Gasping with desire, I realise the phone is now on loudspeaker, resting on a shelf to your right. Both your strong hands drag my hips over to cover your own, my arms instinctively bracing on the edge of the king size mattress,

"Are you wanking, Chris?" is chuckled from the phone, a nice voice, cultured, friendly, with an undertone of a lust that resonates through my very being; I want her to want you Lord, as I do.

" Yes darling, you know what you do to me...keep talking, spur me on."

This spoken while you're arranging my splayed groin in your lap, purposely ignoring my tits, your neglect of them signifying my role in this; this act is not about me, or your obsession with my particular attractions but merely, solely, singularly about your pleasure.

Pressing against you, eager for the onslaught, glancing back again I see your grin as you angle that ultra stiff cucumber-cock forward and drag my wet cunt-lips over it while your phone whore describes her needs. Finally, impaling me with a groan,nimble digits gripping my hip flesh bruisingly as you lunge upwards to spear deep into my greedy drooling fuck-hole; working my whore-hole back and forth over your straining prick, your hips rolling and shifting lazily just wanking inside me; my insatiable cunt clenching around your leaping spur of wanton fuck meat.

The bloated sex-toy in my anus making my cunt tighter ensuring that my g-spot is properly assaulted, pushing back, hips writhing, listening intently to the phone-fuck. My gasping harmonising with the liquid thrusts of your priapic dick slipping and sliding in and out of me; the woman on the phone questioning the sounds of our coupling, your voice tremulous, lower as you answer;

"I'm almost there darling, tit-meat has a wonderfully magnetic primary wank hole, especially when it's shitter is plugged tight; one day you'll find out when it squats over your face and squeezes my creamy spunk out into your mouth while I make you squirt"

Smirking at your lewd words and the woman's palpable shock that now hovers above our docked grunting bodies as she keeps the line open. She's struck speechless. You no longer needing her voice, sinking into the luxury of your own personal plush fuck doll; mind focused on the grazing of synapses, each neurone that fires as our genitals sensually slide over and over. Your eyes closed to relish the moment. Feral lust dictating our rut, the knowledge that she is listening; an absent audio-voyeur, the garnish that takes us over the edge, tumbling...shattering....

"Oh you fucking nasty piece of addictive fuck flesh!"

Your exclamation filling the room as your bloated cock flexes and blooms rammed as deep as you can force it against my pulsating cervix, spewing molten pearls deep within to baste my womb while my muscular pelvic walls spasm; milking you, draining your balls, my silky flesh shimmering and roiling in your grip.

Phone woman audibly splutters; you laugh, lazily gliding your hands, still full of my soft ass, flesh back and forth to coax judders of aftershock from us both:

"Well darling, you've caused me to make such a mess of tit-meat and it thanks you for its climax; I think I may reward it with dinner out tonight for being such an amenable little cum dump. I'll be keeping it's fuck-holes plugged of course. I'll speak to you soonest darling."

Reaching out to end the call you smile down at me, holding out two large rubber plugs, one conical, one penis shaped; asking me to choose which one should go in which hole so that we may venture out later with me wearing them both. Wrinkling my nose I reply that I need to pee before I'm plugged. Wickedly your eyes sparkle, your nod of acquiescence almost imperceptible.

The kinky thought causes a flex of your buttocks to inflate your prick inside me once more, sealing your copious load deep as I release my bladder, over you. The relief as the warm fluid sprays out of me, caressing our flesh, the throb of you so deep inside me as the underside of your shaft is massaged by the strength of my flow, the pure head-fucking hallucinatory deviancy of all that this day has been taking me to heaven again, my body gently bucking as I shudder through my second climax while voiding all over your sticky root and dangling sacks, your hands kneading and splaying my generous bottom.

Hearing the hiss as the anal plug is deflated...still shivering from my second release, moaning in my throat as the plug is withdrawn, cheeks burning with a blush as i feel the weight of your gaze on my gaping rosette. My hips jerking upwards in response to the cold penis-shaped rubber plug now nudging at my cunt lips even as they are still stretched wide around your still rigid fuck-pole, your breath ragged as you watch and feel that plug slide inside, against your shaft...pulling back to exchange warm live flesh for cold rubber, a slivery smear of mixed cream blobbing the amber pool that's gathered around us on the red latex sheet, my brain flaring at the utter lewdness of all we are doing, so secret, so forbidden.....so very right Lord. I notice you licking your lips as the plug's flared rim nestles against my tumid vulva:

"Get that big arse in the air tit-meat," you growl;

Instantly I obey you, sliding my torso into the lemonade pool of my own filth to hoist my hips up high...stiff nipples dragging in the slopping yellow miasma, the latex-clad mattress giving and contorting under our shifting forms, directing the tepid natural champagne forward with my udders as you crouch behind me.

"Face down tit-meat, I wanna see you slurp your piss up, be a pig for me. Wallow, you horny slut, keep that big arse splayed with your hands."

Grunting into the puddle of my own piss, blowing pee bubbles, I press my nose to the wet rubber, going crazy with lustful exhibitionism, wanting you to see the most debased, lewd and whorish side to my nature. I throw my head from side to side, spitting, slurping, giggling, my tousled mane soaking up the chilly fragrant mess. Guzzling my piss lake loudly while my hands grip my buttocks and splay them wide, expanding my already yawning dirt pipe. And then what's this Lord? Yes, yes yes, I'm flinching at the kiss of your warm flow on my crease as you use my arsehole for your own personal piss pot, no contact between us but the playing of your stream over my willing flesh.

"keep still tit-meat, don't you dare spill any" you say.

Panting and shaking, swollen cunt walls clenching that dildo-shaped rubber plug hard; stealing a backward glance between my hanging udders, watching your face contort into a cruel grin as you film my obedient debasement on your phone before plunging the second plug into my arse-latrine to seal me full of you. Smiling proudly as you pat my wobbly buttocks:

"Good girl tit-meat, come on, we need to shower if we're going out to eat."