Since You Ased

I want to suck cock.

Specifically, yours.

I want your fingers in my hair, sometimes gentle and doting, sometimes firm and domineering.

I want to see your face soften, just for a second, when you come for me, in me, on me.

I want your voice, your scent, your infinitely fascinating tastes and textures—all of it.

But you aren't here.

I ponder how to fix this, and arrive at a solution.

I'll tempt you.

It's mid-day on a Friday, and you're working. I should be, too, but all I can think of is you. Fortunately for me, I work from home, and have done enough work to justify my paycheck for the week already, so now I am just pacing the floor in the living room, wondering if you might be willing to take a long lunch. In fact, I can even make you a nice little lunch, so it wouldn't be entirely euphemistic...

Click! A quick still life on the kitchen counter involving a ripe backyard tomato, a blushing apple, half a loaf of handmade sourdough bread, a chunk of Havarti, and some basil.

I send the picture, accompanied by a brief text: "Could I interest you in joining me for lunch?"

A few minutes later, I get a somewhat disappointing reply: "Looks good, but not quite good enough. Rough days call for more than grilled cheese sandwiches."

At this point, I contemplate a few options. I could call and just ask you to please come over, or offer to meet you somewhere, but that could be disruptive. I could just do nothing, and catch up with you later, but that would definitely be...boring, which is something we both hate. Or, I could reply back, and maybe, maybe either cheer you up a bit or win you over.

Click! A bottle of the bourbon you like, with two rocks glasses next to it, on a side table next to a comfortable chair. Draped on the arm of the chair is a shiny metal-link leash.

I send the picture, accompanied by another text: "How rough?"

Your reply comes much faster this time: "Improving slightly. But only slightly."

At this point, I feel a rush of hope, coupled with a tingling warmth between my legs. We're playing a game! I love games. This is apparently a new one entitled Amuse and Entice Him With Pictures of Stuff Around The House So He Will Come Over and Feed You Cock For Lunch—unwieldy title, but the game itself has potential. I quite enjoy begging.

It's been a few days since I've seen you, and through the great blessing of online commerce I've acquired a few treats since the last time I had an opportunity to enjoy your company. I gather them together along with a few other items that might help me show them to their best advantage and start taking pictures of them with my phone, some alone and some in small groups.

Click! A very pretty hand-made posture collar, with flowers and gems—a bit Victorian, in the "we're so horny we have to cover up piano legs because they remind us of ladies and we will then gum up the keys with spunk" way, not in the prudish way so often associated with that word. It's fastened around a tall vase full of peacock feathers, and flanked by several miscellaneous vibrators and dildos that I placed in a semi-circular grouping in the center of the dining table.

The text I send: "Something to take off the edges and give you a sense of control may help."

The response I receive: "It might. Sounds like you've given my problem some thought."

Click! Two darling pairs of tweezer-clamps on a dainty little doily on a tiny silver tray, one pair slightly larger and longer than the other. So cute! So pinchy! And they have adorable little bells that jingle!

The text I send: "Perhaps listening to some music would help."

The response I receive: "Penetrating insight."

That seems almost like a suggestion, so...

Click! A rather substantial glass dildo, with a flat base that sends the head and shaft straight up in a most assertive way, paired with a curved glass butt-plug flanking it just so. I put these on the windowsill, so you could see how they played with the light.

The text I send: "The way forward is clear."

Less than twenty seconds later, my phone rings.

It's you.

Before I even have a chance to say hello, you growl out, "Have the blinds on the windows facing the street down, and all the other windows completely unblocked. Leave the door unlocked. Strip and put on your pretty new collar. Put on dark red lipstick and lots of it, and even more mascara and eyeliner. Brush your hair out really well and leave it down. Put the larger clamps on your tits, and use the smaller ones on your labia. Kneel in the middle of the floor and start fucking yourself with that big glass dildo, and suck on the plug. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I squeak out.

"Good," you say. "I'll be there in ten minutes, and I expect you to be playing a virtuoso bell solo in a puddle of your own juices." You end the call and I begin preparing for your arrival.

Blinds, check.

Door unlocked, check.

Clothes off and collar on, check.

Slutty make-up, check.

Hair brushed and down, check.

All that remained was the clamps and the glass toys, so I gather those up and head to the spot where I'll wait for you. I kneel down, and place the first clamp on my left nipple, pinching and twisting it a bit to get it erect. The temptation is to clamp it just enough to get a mild pinch and keep it in place, but I know you'll check, so I slide the brace up to the point of discomfort, breathe out slowly, and repeat the process on the right side. When I am done, the throbbing in my nipples is perfectly in time with the aching throb of want in my pussy.

I start trying to place the clamps on my labia in a similar fashion, but it's a little trickier since those pouty lips between my legs are so slick. I fumble a bit, becoming more anxious that I might not be completely ready when you open the door, and the sound of soft tinkling bells and muttered cursing fills the otherwise still house. Finally, I get one in place, and then the other.

All that's left is the glass toys. One of them is a bit more worrisome than the other.

The glass plug is a good size for a relative beginner like me, and I can easily fit it in my mouth—no problem. I still struggle a bit with getting it into my ass, but I think I will probably be having some help with that shortly. I put it in my mouth and suck on it almost absent-mindedly, holding the stem of it like it was a lollypop as I stare at the other toy.

The dildo... well... it had turned out to be bigger than I had expected it to be when I ordered it. And, wouldn't you know it? No returns. I was stuck with it.

And now I am about to have to stick myself on it. I gulp a bit, sucking the plug a bit further into my mouth to keep it in place without having to hold it, and raise myself up a bit to position the large glass cock under my pussy. The little bells on the clamps attached to soft, sensitive parts of my body jingle merrily as I shift, and I decide that if I ease myself down onto this massive piece of glass gently, I'll be OK.

However, I then hear a sound from outside that makes me feel like I should hurry—it sounds suspiciously like the sound of a car door closing nearby. So, I position the head near the opening of my pussy and lower myself quickly down.

The sensation is remarkable—it hurts, in a way, but I know that my natural lubrication would keep any real harm from coming to me. It is more like the pain after a good workout, the pain of muscles being challenged. I groan, inadvertently, and the plug slips a bit, almost falling out of my mouth, and brings a trail of drool with it. This slippery fluid slides down my chest and soft tummy, into the folds of silky skin between my legs, pooling with my already plentiful wetness and helping make sure that you arrive to exactly the sight you wish for. I begin bouncing up and down on the big dildo in earnest, holding the plug in my mouth with one hand and keeping the dildo in place with the other, bells jingling in time with my movements.

A few seconds after I've achieved the right position and pace, you open the door wide and walk in. For just a moment, I am entirely exposed to the world outside my front door. Mercifully, there's no-one there... but there could have been.

Not that it would matter, really. You're here. That's what matters.

You close the door and stand in front of me, just out of reach. The collar forces me to hold my head up, but I don't know where to look, so I just close my eyes and wait, kneeling on the floor and fucking my pussy and face with pretty glass things, just because you said so. Eventually—after ten seconds or a hundred years, I couldn't say—you speak.

"Stop."

I freeze. I'm not sure if you timed it deliberately, but I'm in a position that leads to my pussy being quite full. I can feel my pelvic muscles trembling and shifting, trying to accommodate the cool, unyielding hardness of the glass. The toy in my mouth is also almost completely in, with just the little ringed base showing through my fingers.

I try to imagine what I look like to you for a moment, and it occurs to me that while sensation-wise, this is very naughty, it would probably be the most innocent-looking position—just a sweet submissive girl, in the nude, pretty collar, eyes closed and kneeling a bit awkwardly. It might even look a bit like I am sucking my thumb! Even the clamps are relatively dainty and cute, compared to some of the other devices that could be fulfilling the same function.

You're enough of an evil genius that I would absolutely believe you chose the moment, and therefore the position, on purpose. If so, just another reason to adore you.

You walk in a circle around me, and I can feel your eyes on me even though I can't see you.

"Get up, and go bend over the dining table. Keep the plug in your mouth, but you can leave your new best friend on the floor there."

I slowly raise myself up off of the glass cock, and kneel for a second. My eyes are open, but I still haven't looked at your face yet. I'm focusing on the floor, hoping to be able to get up somewhat gracefully without slipping on the small puddle beneath me or dislodging the tweezer-clamps still attached to my slick, swollen labia. Now that the cold, hard cock is out of my pussy, all I feel is fire and heat and throbbing.

"Tick-tock, little slut!" you say, from over my shoulder. "Have to set the table before you can make me lunch. Surely you can live without something in your pussy for five minutes. Get over here!"

The tone of your voice is jaunty and cheerful, but I know that could turn quickly if I don't meet your expectations, so I get onto my feet as quickly and carefully as I can, and walk to the few yards over to the table. You haven't said anything one way or another about eyes, yet, but I still feel unable to look at you. Maybe it's because I feel like I was pushy, or almost aggressive, in my efforts to get you to come over. I am sometimes embarrassed by my need for you, and my apparently insatiable desire for your cock, your attention, your presence. I think, if I were to look into your eyes right now, I might die of shame. Mercifully, you don't ask me to do that. All I have to do is bend over the table.

When I get to the table, I bend over it, as you said to do, with my face turned away from you, mouth still full with the plug. The clamps on my nipples clank as I lay myself down against the tabletop, and the tips of my nipples themselves throb with a delicious agony.

Finally, you touch me. I think you might be kneeling behind me, eyes level with my most intimate parts—your possessions. Your hands are warm, and they go immediately to my wet, sensitive pussy. You use the tweezer-clamps on my labia almost as little handles, opening and extending first one, then the other, then both. The tension when you pull on them is almost painful, but I can feel deep pulses of my pelvic muscles when you do it so it becomes... something other than pain. It becomes a deep, profound want. I still crave the taste of your cock, but there's always something to be said for getting fucked.

"You did a good job getting ready for me to come, baby girl. You're made up like a whore, had something in you at both ends, and those little bells were jingling! Would you like a treat?"

"Yes, please!" I say brightly, temporarily shifting the plug to the inside of my cheek so I can enunciate, and then moving it back onto my tongue again. You have yet to give me permission to take it out of my mouth, so I am trying to be good. I definitely don't want to take the chance of falling out of your good graces so close to treat time!

"That's my good girl!" you say, cheerfully. "I think I'm going to fuck you, bent over this table. I know you'll like that. My kitten is a little slut, and sluts love cock... Daddy knows!"

As you are saying this, I can tell you are undoing your pants behind me. I can't turn and sneak a peek because of the rigid collar, but I can imagine what is happening, and I am so ready for you to use me.

A few seconds later, you use the tweezer-clamps to spread my pussy open and your hard cock pushes its way into me. You thrust very slowly, and very deeply, and I moan in an almost feral way. You keep this slow, deliberate pace for a while, and then I feel your fingertips pressing onto my clitoris. I struggle to be still and yielding, but my legs tremble and my hips buck whenever your fingers strum across that little cluster of nerves.

Still, though, you keep that slow, deliberate pace. Deep in, almost all the way out, then deep in again. Your fingers continue to tease my clit, bringing pleasure without release, over and over. It's wonderful, and horrible. I choke back a little sobbing sound when you take your hand away from my clit, but I know that, eventually, you'll make me come. You always do. I just need to be patient and do as you say.

A few seconds after you move your hand away from my clit, I feel your hand on my ass and a pressure on my anus. I try to relax that delicate opening a bit, but it's very tight. The pressure persists, and I feel your thumb pressing down, down, down, swirling my wetness around on the puckered hole. With your pressing and massaging, I feel the muscles give way a bit, and then your thumb is inside me as your cock continues its slow, relentless pounding. Your other hand reaches under me, and starts to tease my clitoris again, and I groan and moan and shake and buck under you. Little chiming bells accompany my animalistic noises.

"Ah, my little darling pumpkin likes this, I see. Give me your little lollipop plug, and you'll like it even more."

Before I can try to hand it to you, you grab a handful of my hair and pull me up to almost standing, and take the plug out of my mouth yourself, and then let go and let me drop down again. I catch myself on my hands and lower myself again, arching my back a bit to try and make my ass more accessible. You thrust your cock deep into my pussy once more, then pull out so that just the head remains inside, and then start pushing the plug against the opening of my ass.

I am struggling with a lot of overwhelming urges, some of them contradictory. I want to avoid the plug going into me, while at the same time I very much want my asshole stretched around it. I want something in my mouth again, but I also want to beg and plead and cry out and moan. And, of course, I want to push back on your cock, but we agreed long ago that you are the one who gets to decide when I get your cock, not me.

Instead of pushing back, or pulling away, I begin weaving my hips in a little figure-eight. That motion, combined with the relentless downward pressure you are putting on the plug, leads to the first part of the plug entering my ass... but there's still so much more. I moan pleadingly, but I don't know what I'd ask you to do if I could find the words. So instead I just keep moving my hips, keeping your cock in me only as deep as you have put it, taking the constant stretching and pressure on my ass as quietly as I can.

I know you can see me struggling. I know you can tell that I'm very eager for you to fill my pussy with your cock, very eager to please you and earn my own pleasure. The proof is dripping from me, and smeared all over the tops of my thighs.

"Daddy, please... "

"Please, what, little one?"

"Will you please fuck me some more?"

"Shh..." you say. "I'm concentrating on something else right now. I'll fuck you more in a few minutes, maybe. And besides, weren't you just fucking yourself with a toy a few minutes ago? How much fucking do you need?"

"I need a lot, Daddy."

"I know you do, darling," you say, pushing hard on the plug. The next little ball on the plug pushes its way into me as you say that, and I gasp. I know there's only one more little ball to go, and then it will be all the way in me, but it feels like the biggest thing ever in the history of the world in trying to get into my tight little ass. You lighten up on the pressure against my little puckered opening, letting me get used to the second ball, and ask, "How does that feel, baby?"

"It feels big... but good."

"It's not big!" you say, with a chuckle. "Barely bigger than my thumb, and no-where near the size of my cock. One day soon, I'll be able to fuck your ass the same way that I fuck your pussy, and you'll beg me for it, too."

"Nope!" I say, possessed suddenly by a very cheeky urge.

You reach under me with one hand and tug on the clamps on my nipples, making the little bells ring, and making me cry out.

"Mhmm, " you say, in your very best indulgent Daddy voice, gently increasing the pressure on the plug again. "You'll beg and beg, and I'll consider it. One day soon, I think, getting fucked in the ass will be a treat for you. You just said it felt good to have more of the plug in, didn't you?"

"Yes," I whisper, cheeks burning, lip pouting out slightly.

"Well, then, even more will be even better, won't it?" you ask, teasingly.

"I don't know," I say, quietly, after a bit of a pause. My want for you, and the not-quite-pain of the stretching of my ass, are leaving me tongue-tied and foggy. Everything seems to be far away, except my ass and pussy, and the little points of heat from my clamped nipples and labia.

"Well, you're a good girl, and you want to make me happy, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy, of course."

"Well, then... relax just a little bit more... and... there! That's my good girl! You took all of the plug like a good little ass slut!"

The pressure and stretching is unbelievably intense, and as soon as you get the plug all the way in, you start moving your cock in my pussy again. I begin bucking and writhing under you, fingers scrabbling at the smooth tabletop while you slide in and out of me. Your fingers seek out my clit again, and my hips start dancing, seeking a rhythm to match your expert touch. You start out slowly again, like before, and then pick up more and more speed. The little bell clamps attached to my pussy lips clank and rattle, and the ones on my nipples just thud and scrape against the table top.

I feel the glorious heat and tension of an impending orgasm welling up, deep inside of me, and I can tell you are close, too, from the urgency of your thrusts and the shortening of your breath.

"Can I come, Daddy?" I ask, voice high and plaintive.

"No, you may not, slut," you growl, and then I feel the heat of your come inside of me. It's scalding, and the heat of it is enhanced by the fact that you pulled yourself out so quickly after, leaving me at the edge of orgasm without any further stimulation. I'm almost in tears, I'm so frustrated. My pussy feels empty, and my ass is still stretched around the plug. The closest thing I have to consolation is the evidence of your pleasure dripping out of me.

I hear your footsteps coming around, and the scrape of a chair, and all of a sudden, you are sitting in front of my face, in the place that my collar forces me to look.