Tonight.
The word sends shivers down my spine. Tonight is when the pleasure begins for me and for my Master. I yearn for it and can feel every cell in my body vibrating from the strain of holding me earth bound. Every muscle vibrating from consciously willing them to stop tensing and coiling. It's as if I'm ready to jump from my skin and spread my arms and allow all the sunlight, heat and air to cleanse me of this madness that is lust. But to do that would mean that I couldn't share that same surrender with him.
Today. Today, is a day to be good as I cannot displease my master. He is the one constant in this swirling sea of emotions and feelings. And such a delicious constant, too. Today he has been embedded in all of my thoughts, actions and words. My tongue has been bitten, voluntarily, in order to keep this secret, to keep the pleasure for myself. I am selfish in that sense. Who would want to share this pleasure? Who would want someone else to be the focus of such diligent attention to detail. The very thought of his attentions somewhere else frightens me.
He is diligent in his examination of my faults and flaws, yet he relishes each one, like an collector that meticulously searches out the faults before putting it right back on the shelf where it's safe. The only difference is that he will play me like a harp: the lightest touch of his fingers causing my body to sing, cause my vocal chords to jump into motion. He'll listen to the sweet symphony of sounds that I offer up to him. And he never tires of them. Or so I hope.
In that end, I will do my best never to arouse his anger, nor to make him tire of me in any way. I believe this is why he wishes me to tell someone about tonight. To prove, perhaps, that I shouldn't be as selfish, shouldn't be so one-sided. Or maybe the act of expelling the truth about tonight will make the expectation grow. Telling someone is sure to keep it foremost in my mind should it not? It is a torture unto itself since I cannot work, without thinking about it.
I know his method: lure, seduce, wait and watch me writhe in pleasure for another touch, kiss or even a spoken word, and finally allow the barest of my requests. With the building intensity of a practiced storm he will make my knees tremble once more. I can feel the warmth of his hand hovering above my shoulder, willing me down without touching me. Can even feel the carpet flatten beneath my knees and hands as I kneel in front of him. By now I will be naked except for the piece of cloth hiding my most intimate of areas. It's doesn't matter that the dampness now clings to my swollen lips. all that matters is what he says and what he wants. It is uncomfortable only due to the cold from the central air which is now blowing across my shoulders. I dare not shiver.
"So, pet," he will begin, "have you followed my instructions today?"
I will respond with a yes, and will even include a nod for good measure. I can feel the breath escape my mouth in short inaudible gasps as I wait for what comes next. A stroke of a finger, a quick caress of his palm across my shoulder blades. What I would give to have him slide his hand across my collar bone, rub his thumb in huge circles across my throat and flex his hand ever so lightly to show his strength. Or better, to slide his hand still farther down to cup my breast in his palm and roll my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. But if I was truly lucky, his hand would dip to the cleft between my thighs, moist and warm from the sweet pleasure I've already endured, and stroke until I crested. His hand would mold to me to feel captured. No, it would instead absorb the heat, and yet again take from me the pleasure that brings me closer to the edge.
But he wouldn't go farther than that, he would whisper in my ear, biting and pulling at the lobe as a bored executive would play with a pencil on his desk.
"Are you ready for me Pet?"
