She kneels by the door, waiting for him to come in. Her body trembles as she waits, wanting his touch, wanting his fierce possession, his rough handling of her willing body. Tonight she wants to be what he wants her to be; to obey his commands without hesitation, to allow him to position her, take her, touch her as he wishes.
Naked, her only adornment is his black collar around her throat. She wants to show him that she is already his, before he even arrives. She wears no perfume, no lotion, nothing to detract from the smell of her female body. She knows he wants to smell her need, her want, her wet, soaked sex.
The feelings when she is naked and he is fully dressed are wicked and naughty. It is exciting and seems right, his hands touching her warm bare skin, sometimes gentle, sometimes hard. She wants him to decorate her body, with his clamps, his ropes, his marks that turn her pale skin pink or red.
Hearing his car drive up, she places a black satin blindfold over her eyes, wanting only to feel what he does to her, to intensify the sensations. He comes in, the door unlocked as he had requested. He securely locks it, not wanting any invasion of their privacy.
He takes a deep breath, and she hopes he likes what he sees, her naked body, ready to serve her Dom, her Master. She wills her body to be pliant, yielding, submissive.
She feels him step close to her, the rustle of clothing, and then the heat of his body against her face. She inhales deeply, recognizing his masculine, musky scent. She blindly licks her lips and opens her mouth, not even thinking, just knowing that is what he wants. The soft, hot, smooth skin of his rigid cock rubs her tongue as he slides it deep into her mouth.
Relaxing her mouth, she gives it to him, and he slowly, exquisitely fucks it. She can feel the head nudging her throat, taste him on her tongue, his hands in her hair as he guides her. She moans low in her throat, the eroticism of his actions making her tremble.
After a time, he removes his cock from her mouth. He grips it in his strong hand and rubs it all over her face. She tilts her head up, allowing his wetness to coat her face. Without saying a word, he motions her to turn around by gripping her shoulders gently. She complies, and one touch of his hand on the back of her head, and she lowers to the floor. It pushes her bottom up, and she unconsciously spreads her legs wider apart, giving him a glimpse of her pink, warm pussy. She had shaved just an hour before, wanting that skin to be smooth and soft for him.
He kneels behind her, his palms caressing her back. She places her hands over her head, extending them out, a position of supplication, almost of worship. She can feel his strong cock nudging her sex, teasing her, tempting her. She remains still, simply holding her position, waiting.
She takes a deep trembling breath, the waiting so hard. She wants and needs him, but knows this is a time for him, a time to show her devotion. His hands massage her rounded cheeks, his fingers pressing into the flesh.
"Whose ass is this, angel?" he asks her.
"Yours, Master," she answers quickly, knowing it to be the truth.
His fingers slide between her legs, spreading the full lips apart, then moving his fingers in small circles just inside her cunt. That word, it pops into her head. Cunt; a warm, wet living part of her, a part that belongs to him, to fuck, lick, nibble, fill. Cunt; to wrap slickly around him, a warm tunnel he invades, satisfying so many desires, both hers and his. She arches her back involuntarily, then catches herself and resumes her position.
He begins to spank her bottom with hard, rapid swats, the sharp cracking sound music to her ears. She laces her fingers together, clenching them tight, a soft groan escaping her lips. She doesn't understand this desire of hers to be spanked, she just revels in it. Giving him that soft skin, wanting to please him with it. Knowing he likes the marks he leaves on her skin, marks she cherishes later.
Sometimes it scares her, the depth of her need to be spanked by him. Wanting it harder, faster, longer, til she begs him to stop. She shudders, trying to control her own body, to just let him have her.
He spanks her for a few moments, her skin turning a lovely pink, then helps her to her feet. He guides her to the bed and leans down to kiss her. She lets her mouth soften, open, his tongue plunging deeply into her, claiming it.
Pulling back, he adjusts the blindfold, making sure it is securely over her eyes. He efficiently puts wrist cuffs on, then ties her to the headboard. He talks to her all the while, telling her what a good slut she is, how obedient, how sweet, how hot. The words soak into her, soothing yet arousing at the same time. She wants to be his good girl, his nasty little slut, anything he wants her to be.
She feels his weight on the bed, and he ties her breasts with the soft brown rope. Tighter this time, she feels her nipples start to throb. She relaxes on the bed, trusting him. He plays with her nipples, pinching, twisting, tugging on them. She tries to lay still, but it's so hard.
Soundlessly he walks around the bed, and she feels the pinch of the wooden clothespins on each nipple. She sucks in a deep breath as the pain registers in her head, in her body. She arches her back, thrusting them out, the pleasure/pain exquisite. His hands roughly massage them, squeezing them tight in his grip.
Laying there, she pants softly. He moves to her ankles, cuffing them as well, then tying them spread wide apart, with her knees up. It opens her cunt up to his view. She can't stop a slight lifting of her hips. He suddenly slaps her pussy, and she holds still.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
