Feb

(This is the third in a series of vignettes about a D/s couple's long-distance relationship and how it evolves over the course of a year. Readers should assume they have already shared those important discussions about limits, consent, and safe practices.)

She kneeled at his feet, quivering slightly. Her back was arched, head lowered, arms in front of her. When he slowly ran his fingers over the bumps of her spine, the quiver increased. Then he rested his hand on her head again, his fingers gently moving in her hair.

She felt she could stay like this all evening. Ever since he'd picked her up at the airport the day before, he'd wrapped her in layers of submission. A veritable cocoon. The only thing she could compare it to was one of those weighted comfort blankets, the kind used to reduce anxiety and promote relaxation. Though in truth, she wouldn't describe her current feeling as relaxed. Through a haze of desire, she tried to remember each step of the path that led to this point.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

So far, Sir had been full of surprises on this rare weekend that they could be together. She still felt a bit uncertain with him in person. They hadn't seen each other since early January. When he'd met her in the baggage claim area of this small, anonymous city, she had stood stock-still while his eyes ran over her. With a small thrill, she realized that he was assessing his property. Her arms wanted to lift, her hands itched to interlace behind her neck, but she merely stared at him, her eyes huge.

Finally his intense scrutiny resolved into a smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and she relaxed marginally, smiling back. He leaned in, as if to give her a casual hug. But instead he moved his hand, open palm up, to her mouth and raised an eyebrow. She flushed slightly and lowered her eyes. Opening her mouth, she allowed the ball that had been inside it to drop into his hand.

"My good girl," he murmured, pocketing the small silicone ball he'd had her keep in her mouth during the short flight, an invisible gag. Too large to swallow but not large enough to be obvious. It had certainly catapulted her into that submissive mindset, which she was sure had been his intent. His other hand circled her wrist, pulling her forward with him. "Let's grab your bag. Then you'll want to use the restroom. We have a bit of a drive."

Once her small green bag had been retrieved, he walked her toward the restroom. Clearly, he'd already scoped out the area. Without any hesitation he led her through a door marked "Unisex". She gave him a startled smile as he closed and locked the door behind him. "Clever, Sir," she murmured under her breath, wondering why she always seemed to end up in a public restroom. Her heart began to hammer.

He turned her to face him in the small space. "Greet me properly, little slut." She smiled at the familiar nickname. Somehow, his order made everything slide into place again, the initial awkwardness forgotten. She slipped to her knees, careful not to hit the hard tile too hard. Sir helped her down, then opened his fly. When she looked up at him, she experienced that sinking feeling that never got old. She felt so right being in that position.

"Please, may this slut worship your cock, Sir?" she whispered, yearning evident in her voice, her eyes on his thick erection.

"You may." Sir was economical with his words. Unless he decided to tease and torture her with them. Today he merely added, "No hands. I want them behind your back."

She complied, then devoted herself to thoroughly licking his cock as he liked, going over the entire surface of it with her tongue, tracing lines up and down the velvety length of him, pressing harder against the vein underneath, teasing the ridge and head, until he drew back. Then she slowly pushed her mouth onto him, taking as much of his cock as she could. Moaning with pleasure, she slid her head forward and then back, working him in and out.

After a few minutes he groaned and pulled away. Disappointed, she knew better than to complain. Instead she waited, watching his cock hungrily as he used his hand to finish himself off, jetting his cum on her face. Before he could say anything, her tongue darted out to lick off a stream that landed across her lips.

His mouth quirked up slightly as he tucked himself back into his pants. He said affectionately, "Greedy little cumslut. Leave the rest for now. I like the idea of my cum decorating your face. No one will mistake you for anything other than what you are."

She felt that vibrating need start up inside her as her mind replayed the mantra she'd said so many times now. The one he'd given her.

I am Sir's needy, cock-hungry little whore.

Her nipples tightened at the thought.

He helped her to her feet. Then he said, "Put your arms out straight in front of you. I have a present for you."

A present? She felt a nervous excitement. She'd learned that any present he gave her was likely as much for his own enjoyment as for hers. She watched him as he reached into the small bag he was carrying.

"Push your sleeves up," he said, "Then close your eyes."

She did as he bid her, closing her eyes and biting her lip in anticipation. She felt something cool and heavy against her left wrist. There was a distinct click. Then she felt the same on the right. She knew what it was. Her eyes flew open in her enthusiastic joy.

He'd fastened cuffs on her wrists, heavy metal ones with a solid weight to them. She was beside herself, eyes glowing. "Thank you, Sir." She'd long fantasized about having cuffs like these, about how they'd feel around her narrow wrists.

He growled, "I have matching ankle ones for you at the B&B, but these will suffice for now." His gaze grew chilly. "I don't recall telling you that you could open your eyes. As punishment, I'm going to warm that ass up for the ride back to town."

Barely giving a glance around the small room, Sir jerked his chin toward the single toilet. "Drop your pants and straddle that. I want your palms and nose to the wall."

Her breathing hitched in her throat as her arousal went up another notch. She walked to the toilet and carefully lowered her pants to her ankles, giving her just enough leeway to straddle the toilet. She looked at Sir with a question in her eyes. He shook his head. "Leave the panties on. For now."

Pressing her nose to the wall, she heard the bag rustle again. He'd brought something to punish her with. She held her breath, trying to guess what it would be. A paddle? Flogger?

"You can let out that breath," he said, waiting her out. After a moment she exhaled, then yelped when he struck her with something thin and flexible. Her nose came up in surprise, and he pushed her head gently back down. "Stay in place, slut," he said. "Count for me."

Her voice came out thin. "One, Sir." Four more followed in close succession until tears overflowed her eyes and choked her voice. He stopped then, ran his hand over her panties, the pink silky ones she'd worn because he liked them. There was a hint of humor in his voice when he said, "Lovely. I almost hate to take them off. Still, I think for the second set...."

She felt him pull the panties down on top of her pants, felt cool air between her legs. Again his hand stroked over the warmed flesh of her ass. His fingers slipped between her legs, and he chuckled. "It seems you're enjoying this punishment. Little whore." He pinched her clit hard, and she gasped. "Let's see what I can do to make it even more enjoyable for you." He bent to pick up something, then continued rubbing her clit while he pushed it against her anal opening.

She made a little sound of protest. But he'd lubed the plug well and it slipped inside her bit by bit. She knew not to struggle. Instead she bit her lip and tried to relax until it was in place. Given the ease with which he'd worked it inside her, it must not be very big. Still, to her it felt enormous.

"That's my good little pet." Then, almost without pausing, he struck her ass five more times with whatever implement he was using. She struggled to stay still and count for him, but each time he spanked her, the plug moved inside her in a way that jangled her nerves.

The last two spanks were much harder. Her tears were falling freely now. She imagined how she must look to him, straddling the toilet, her reddened and plugged ass lifted, providing him free access to any part of her. She hoped he was finished punishing her...and yet a part of her wanted him to continue. It was one of the mysteries of submission, for her. Why did the things he did to her...even when they involved pain or humiliation...turn her on so intensely?

Sir gently lifted her to a standing position and turned her to face him. While she struggled to keep her balance, he used a small chain to clip her new cuffs to each other with a short amount of play. Once that was done, he pushed her down until she was sitting on the toilet.

Dryly he said, "I did say we had a bit of a drive. I suggest you use the facilities before we leave."

She looked at him blankly. It took a minute for his meaning to sink in. She was horrified as he stood in front of her, regarding her with arms crossed. "I-I can't!" she stuttered.

He shrugged. "Up to you. I'm not stopping on the way."

She sniffled, awkwardly raising her joined hands to wipe her eyes and nose. She did need to pee, but she was pretty sure she could wait. She couldn't do it here, not with him watching her.

"Last chance," he said pointedly.

The thought made her feel a bit desperate and before she knew it, a small stream of pee trickled out of her, gradually increasing. She couldn't meet his eyes as her face reddened with embarrassment. When she was done, he grabbed some toilet paper and parted her legs, wiping her carefully before pulling her pants up and fastening them. Then he led her to the sink, cleaning her hands and -- after a moment's deliberation, wiping his cum off her face as well.

Oh god...this went beyond anything he'd done so far. She felt completely off-balance. She felt almost grateful to him for taking care of her. Was that normal?

Her mind skittered back to the moment. Sir showed her the thin, flexible silicone paddle he'd used on her before putting it away. She could still feel the stinging burn and knew she'd feel it even more during the drive to the B&B he'd rented for the weekend.

They walked through the airport, his jacket draped over her to hide the cuffs. Once they reached the car, she discovered that the anal plug posed its own challenge. When she sat down, she almost went through the roof. Grinning, Sir held her in place and fastened her seat belt. "Take it easy, little one. The next 45 minutes are going to be fun. I'm sure I don't need to remind you not to come without my permission."

Fun might not have been the word she would have chosen. Between the stripes on her ass, the plug inside her, and the way Sir randomly played with her -- squeezing her nipples, pressing his hand between her open legs -- she felt like a pressure cooker about to explode when they finally made it to the B&B.

The place was a small loft apartment located on the fifth floor of a building in a walkable part of the city. Once they'd reached the door, Sir unlocked it and motioned her to precede him inside. There was a small entry foyer. He unclipped her wrists, and without having to be told, she began removing her clothing, folding it neatly and putting it on the small table beside the door. When she'd stripped to her bra and panties, she looked at him, waiting for his direction.

To her delight, he pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly. After a minute, his hands moved down her back, grasping her sore ass firmly and pressing her to him so that her pussy was against his cock. It felt so incredibly good to be so close to him. It was a rarely granted pleasure. She felt like putty in his hands. Too soon, he broke their kiss and stepped back, folding his arms. "I'd like to inspect my property now," he said with a smile.

"Of course, Sir," she murmured, feeling her core turn to liquid at his words. She loved it when he referred to her as his property. "Where do you want me?"

He turned, considering the options. Finally he pointed to the large floor-to-ceiling window in the main room. "Over there, beside the window. Once there you may remove your bra and panties."

It was dusk outside. She paused only for a second to consider whether anyone outside would be able to see her. Then she walked to the window. Giving Sir a daring look, she shed the lingerie, then spread her legs wide and bent over. Using her hands, she grasped and opened the cheeks of her ass.

"Very nice, little slut," he said. "Open yourself wider. I want to see that plug."

With an effort, she complied. He walked around her several times, touching her here and there. When he leaned down and squeezed both of her nipples repeatedly, she began to pant.

"Would you like to come?" Sir straightened and asked, reaching around her hands to push the plug deeper into her.

She knew the correct answer was "Whatever Sir wants." But she was so very needy after so long. She threw caution to the winds and begged him.

"Yes...oh god...please, Sir. Your little slut is desperate to come."

He slapped her ass hard, making her hiss at the reactivated sting from her earlier punishment. "You're not nearly needy enough yet," he remonstrated. "I want you dripping on the floor before I give you permission to come."

She moaned, nearly losing her balance. He grabbed her upper arm, holding her in place. "What do you say, fucktoy?"

She moaned again. "Thank you, Sir. Your fucktoy thanks you."

Still holding her arm, he helped her stand upright, then guided her closer to the window so that she faced it. He pressed himself against her back, his cock hard against her ass. That vibrating feeling grew inside her. It was like a current of electricity circulating through her body. She was close to that point where her brain stopped working and she fully yielded control to him. She was sure he could feel it.

Slowly he took each wrist and placed it on the frame of the window, high above her head. Then he used his knee to widen her stance, spreading her feet out until her body formed an X. "Stay," he growled in her ear. "Just like this."

He left her and she missed the heat of his body. But he returned in a moment, squatting behind her. She felt the touch of cool metal on her ankles, heard the clicks that confirmed he was finishing the job of cuffing her. A soft sound of surrender came from her parted lips.

For a few minutes he didn't say or do anything, but she could feel his hot gaze travel over her. Then he said, "I'm going to unpack our bags and then I'll lay out your clothing for this evening. We'll be going out for dinner, so after I've done that, you can shower and change. In the meantime, I want you teasing your pussy with your fingers, keeping yourself wet and ready. Left hand only."

She murmured "Yes, Sir," and craned her neck, wanting to see him, but he was out of her line of sight. Her left hand snaked between her legs, the cool metal of her wrist cuff against her thighs a novel feeling. He didn't need to remind her not to come.

FRIDAY EVENING

Later she stepped out of the shower, curious what he wanted her to wear. Other than a few specific items, he hadn't mentioned anything in particular she should bring. Given a few discussions they'd had, she did include a few pieces of clothing outside her comfort zone. But what he'd chosen seemed perfectly normal: a pair of black pants paired with a soft green-blue sweater. Since it was February and cold out, she was thankful.

It wasn't until she looked closer that she understood. With her clothing, he'd also laid out her remote clit vibrator and her play collar. So he intended to continue teasing her -- physically and mentally -- at dinner. At least the collar would be mostly covered by the high neck of the sweater, the cuffs hidden by her pants and long sleeves.

They walked to a nearby casual Italian place. Before she'd donned her jacket, he attached a leash to the collar, letting it dangle down her back under the sweater. Once outside, he placed one arm possessively around her waist, his hand easily finding the loop at the end of the leash. Every so often he gave it a firm tug while they strolled, each tug pulling her closer and coiling her need more tightly inside her.

They ate dinner and talked about ordinary things. She enjoyed their camaraderie, their shared interests, even though she struggled to overcome the distractions he imposed. She sometimes wondered what inspired his evil brand of creativity. Tonight he'd had her sit, legs spread, on the leash that ran down her back. The loop ended up dangling between her legs and he'd fitted it over her right hand. This effectively tethered her hand in her lap, rendering it impossible for her to use it while eating. The anal plug he'd insisted on replacing after her shower did its part to distract her as well.

And of course there was the merciless teasing with the vibe, which he controlled via his phone. The pattern he'd selected progressed slowly over a period of minutes from a faint tickle to a dull rumble, then began all over again -- not enough to make her come, but certainly enough to keep her mind divided between their pleasant meal and her body's growing desperation.

All those things she could withstand. But when they'd reached a lull between dinner and dessert, he'd scooted his chair closer. Then he reached down and covered her right hand with his left one. To anyone watching, they'd appear to be a romantic couple out on a date. His thumb stroked her thigh, close enough to touch the small vibe, press it more firmly against her clit. He leaned in, whispering in her ear.

"How is my horny little pet? I'm enjoying watching that pulse in your throat jump every time I do this." He pressed against the vibrator again. "Have you reached the point yet where the slightest pressure has your pussy convulsing with need?"

"I...yes...no...." she stuttered, unable to think. "Please, Sir...don't."

"Don't allow you to come? I have no intention of doing that. Rest easy, pet."

She stared at him helplessly, not sure if that was what she wanted. Was this continuing torture better than coming publicly in a restaurant, trying to disguise her orgasm?"

Seeing the question in her eyes, he continued. "Of course, if my needy whore can't wait, you may get down on your knees and beg me to let you come. I might consider it...."

Her eyes widened in shock. But even as she shook her head, her hips wiggled forward, trying to press her clit closer to those teasing vibrations.

He chuckled and removed his hand. The vibrations stopped. It was all she could do not to whimper, but their server was approaching the table with the tiramisu Sir had insisted on ordering for them to share. When she was just a couple of steps away, Sir spoke in a clearly audible, conversational tone.

"So, just how wet are you, my desperate little slut?"

Oh god, every bit of blood rushed into her cheeks as she quickly looked down into her lap. She didn't want to see his mocking eyes...or the server's curious ones.

He waited until she set down the tiramisu between them and scurried away, then he smiled a lazy smile, said in that inexorable voice, "Answer me, pet."

Her voice was somewhat muffled since she couldn't meet his eyes. "V-very wet, Sir."

"Good." He leaned back, studying her like she was an exotic lab specimen. "When we get home and you undress for me, I expect to see that your panties are soaked."

Her hand tightened on the water goblet as a tremor went through her. Exercising extreme care, she managed to lift it and take a sip.