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Flipped Switch

April 10th, 2007


And when it was over, when He pulled me away from His still
hard member and laid me next to Him, when He whispered â??You belong to me,
bitch. You better not forget it.� I marveled at the desperation that welled up
inside. The switch that was flipped.



Thereâ??s this internal switch inside me that I canâ??t guard. Iâ??m
not even sure how or when it gets flipped. Itâ??s different every time. The tone
in His voice, the way He looks at me, the things He makes me do, the words that
come from His mouth, the things He does to me, the low, husky moans that emanate
from His throatâ?¦ Iâ??m not sure where it starts.


Somewhere between â??obedient slaveâ? and â??desperate to be
pleasing slutâ? thereâ??s a switch. And Iâ??m always left in awe when Master flips
it. Oddly enough, as hot as it is to know that a simple order can lead to my
cunt dripping and my legs in the air while my insides are pummeled to quivering
slave goo by His pulsating cock, Iâ??m not always â??in the moodâ?. This matters
naught, as I am His to do with as He pleases. But itâ??s always so much nicer
(for me and definitely for Him) when Iâ??m a greedy whore frantic with the need
of being used by Him.


I was completely thrown off guard by it last night. Shocked
and amazed. And completely humiliated. He ordered me to the bed with the intent
purpose of forcing me to lick and kiss His body all over and I approached it with
all the indifference of a slave being ordered to clean the bathroom. Ho hum.
Another day in the life of a slave. I didnâ??t put any less effort into it than
is my normal way now. I just didnâ??t put any extra effort into it either.


I donâ??t remember exactly how the licking thing started. I
know it was my own doing. I have an oral fixation that usually gets pretty out
of hand when Iâ??m really turned on. If He could see my face when Heâ??s fucking me
from behind, Iâ??d be awful embarrassed. I usually lick and bite at the sheets. I
feel sorry for the poor girl whoâ??s ever perched with her legs spread in front
of my face while Master fucks me from behind. And can I be that girl once? ::grin::


At some point, I got lazy. A girlâ??s tongue gets tired (and
numb) after a few days straight of being ordered to lick a Man from head to
toe. And I got frustrated. There are a million and one other things I could be
doing to get Him hard and He wants this oneâ?¦ again. What happened to this being
special? Something I do when I want to be extra good? And when did I stop being
able to choose to be extra good? (Weâ??ll ignore all the things wrong with those
statements and point out that I donâ??t think that way anymore.) Heâ??d order me to
lick Him and Iâ??d get annoyed. And Iâ??d speed through it, His actual pleasure in
the act barely a thought as I rushed toward the finish line never noticing that
the longer I acted that way the farther back Heâ??d place it.


Somewhere along the way, He made it very clear that this was
unacceptable. If I wanted to be pissed off about being pleasing, fine, but I
wasnâ??t going to detract from His pleasure in the process. Iâ??m not sure how many
almost sleepless nights of pain and/or tears were spent pounding it into my
head that what I wanted didnâ??t matter. So what, I was tired from working eight
and a half hours. So what, I didnâ??t feel good. So what, I didnâ??t want to lick
Him. He wanted it and thatâ??s what mattered so I better damn well be doing my
best.


I always make an effort now. Thereâ??s still some distinction
between when I really, really want to be doing it and when Iâ??m doing it because
Iâ??ve been ordered to. But thereâ??s much less of one now than there was then. And
the main difference is how incredibly sex starved I seem, how hungry my lips
are, the ragged breaths rasping from my chest, the little whimpers and moans
that escape my lips of their own volitionâ?¦


The switch. At some point last night it got flipped. I was
mid lick when I noticed how heavily I was breathing, how tightly I was pressed
to His body, how frantic even the tiniest movement of my body seemed. And my
lips kept being drawn to His fingers. Between licks and kisses on His hands and
fingers, He would pop my lips. Not too hard but enough to realize it was on
purpose. Enough to get the point across. Enough to send an electrifying shock
through my mouth to my nipples and straight to my clit. Enough to make my pussy
clench and drip.


Nights like last night always blur together. As if
everything happened all at once. Like the hour and a half teasing and sucking
and licking and finally gobbling down Masterâ??s cum all happened in one jumbled
moment. He had His hand in my hair and grabbed me by the throat and pulled me
to His lips. He kissed me and I savored the taste of His tongue in my mouth. It
was over far too quickly but then I had the taste of His cock and it was enough
to make up for the sudden lack of His tongue. He slapped and pinched and groped
and I writhed with all the wanton need of a woman trained from birth to be a
sex crazed slave. And again I found my lips back at His fingers longing for the
tiny backhanded pops to my lips while I stroked His cock in my wet fingers.


It was agony not to straddle and hump His leg. It was next
to impossible not to beg for the fucking I knew I couldnâ??t have.
My cunt ached and my stomach clenched as the
need built up inside like a freight train flying down a tunnel toward an
oblivious mouse on the tracks.


And when it was over, when He pulled me away from His still
hard member and laid me next to Him, when He whispered â??You belong to me,
bitch. You better not forget it.� I marveled at the desperation that welled up
inside. The switch that was flipped.

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