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Wanton and Wonder

March 20th, 2007


Last night was one of those nights. At 9:30, He said, â??Log
off and go fix the bed.� I licked and
kissed His body for an hour. Up and down, my tongue tangoing on His salty
flesh. I breathed in the aroma of Him as I gripped the sheets in my fingers. â??Donâ??t
forget your tits and hands, cunt.� And I grabbed the tender swell of flesh and
rubbed it all over His back and legs as I licked and nipped and massaged with
my free hand. â??Thatâ??s it. Rub those big tits all over me.â?



Why is it when Iâ??m not required to post anything, I can
churn out entries like thereâ??s nothing to it but when I am, I stare at this
empty page and think ofâ?¦ nothing? Oh, I have a million and one topics floating
around in my head but none of them seem interesting.


Masterâ??s taken to going to bed early when He wants His slaveâ??s
mouth on Him. I am forever grateful. Instead of going to bed at 11:30 or 12 and
fucking till 2, weâ??re going to bed at 9:30 or 10 and fucking till 12. This
makes for a much more rested slave, though I fear Iâ??m still doomed to be tired
every day for the rest of my life.


Last night was one of those nights. At 9:30, He said, â??Log
off and go fix the bed.�
I licked and
kissed His body for an hour. Up and down, my tongue tangoing on His salty
flesh. I breathed in the aroma of Him as I gripped the sheets in my fingers. â??Donâ??t
forget your tits and hands, cunt.� And I grabbed the tender swell of flesh and
rubbed it all over His back and legs as I licked and nipped and massaged with
my free hand. â??Thatâ??s it. Rub those big tits all over me.â?


My cunt betrays me every time. It takes only a word from Him
and Iâ??m objectified and suddenly Iâ??m swimming in pussy juice even as He pushes
me deeper. Wanton. Needy. And yet, the only need that is to be satisfied is
His. Not only am I okay with this, but I crave this. Need it. Need to be made a
hole for Him to cum in while feeling His total disregard for my throbbing
pussy.


And suddenly I canâ??t breathe. His hand has pushed my head
down, His cock invades my throat, His strength holds me there. I grunt, I kick,
I try to get leverage with my feet as they slip off the edge of the bed. I rise
to my knees, still unable to lift off His cock enough to sneak in even the
tiniest breath. And all the while Iâ??m listening. Hearing those words that both
thrill me and sadden me. The words that make me both question and feel secure.


My piece of cunt. My whore. My slave. Property. Just a toy. Worthless.
Something to fuck. Good for one thing.


And finally, I was allowed to breathe. Great big gasping
lungfuls of air. Soft whimpers in between barely exhaling the air Iâ??d just
sucked in. And left to decipher whether being worthless is a good thing. If
being only a piece of cunt outweighs the exaltation of being owned. If any of
these things, so often construed as bad, are bad in His eyes. If Iâ??m bad in His
eyes.


I could askâ?¦ but my throat is full of cock again and again Iâ??m
fighting to breathe. This time is shorter than the first and when itâ??s over He
wants it slow and deep. He wants to cum deep in the recesses of my throat. To
give me a choice. Swallow or choke. Or maybe swallow and choke. I choose to
swallow. The rest is not an option. And I gulp down every last drop as if itâ??s
the last drink Iâ??ll have for a month. And maybe it is. Thatâ??s His choice.


When itâ??s finished, He rolls me to my back and those
questions are gone from my mind. I am owned. I am His. And at this moment, Iâ??m
pinned to the bed by His leg draped across the length of my body and His hand
teasing and tormenting my breasts. And with His cum still teasing my taste buds,
I moan softly, thinking only of the words barely a whisper in my ear.


â??You belong to me. Only me.â?


I smile. I whisper back â??Yes, Master.â? And I donâ??t move a
single muscle, completely content to be held in this way. Loving being held in
this way. And afraid that moving will make Him move. I donâ??t want Him to move.


Iâ??ve stopped asking questions, for the most part. The answer
is far too often â??Because I said so.â? â??Because I said so.â? isnâ??t an answer and
itâ??s His right not to answer. Itâ??s easier for me, however, to be confused than
to be frustrated. And â??Because I said so.â? frustrates me. So I donâ??t ask. If He
wants me to know, Heâ??ll tell me. And He knows that I wonder about the why of
everything. Asking only reiterates a question He already knows I have. And if
He wanted me to know why, Heâ??d tell me.


I suppose thatâ??s sort of the point. To make it clear that itâ??s
not mine to question. And I donâ??t question with demanding an answer in mind. I
donâ??t question with malicious intent or with the expectation of being answered
or the purpose of overstepping my bounds. I question out of confusion. Wonderment.
A wish for understanding.


How is it that He does the things He does and they have the effect
they do on me? Why does calling me a cunt make me both happy and sad? How does
He always get exactly what He wants when He wants it with a simple word? What
is in me that makes me so easily manipulated?


And, Jesus, I know Iâ??m
a pain in the ass, but is being what I am a bad thing in His eyes? Not in
general. One canâ??t speak generally about these things. And not would it be a
bad thing for Him to be these things. He could never be these things. But is it
a bad thing for me?


And I feel stupid even asking that. Because I know that
being what He wants me to be is what He wants. And I donâ??t expect Him to not
look down on me because He is Master and I am slave and by nature He looks down
on me. I just worry that Heâ?¦ oh how to say it without sounding pretentious? I
donâ??t want Him to think Iâ??m bad. I guess simple is better. Because I canâ??t
think of a way to say it without it being misconstrued.


Anywayâ?¦ the pointless meanderings of owned flesh. Enjoy your
day 🙂

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