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.
