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Posts Tagged ‘blow job’

I’m always going to get mine.

June 16th, 2015 1 comment

My stomach sank when he said it.

I was on my knees in front of him. His beautiful cock was buried deep in my throat. His hands were fisted in my hair. And my mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.

“You’re supposed to be a teasy slut,” he said. “Did you forget how to turn me on?”

My blood ran cold. He’d come to me, naked, fresh from the shower. His hands had found my tits, and I had given a half hearted lick to his stomach, my hands in my lap, as if I had no god damned sense in my head.

“Don’t you think your hand should be on that when it’s that close?” he had asked.

I had grinned sheepishly and wrapped my hand around his cock, but I definitely had lacked that certain something that says, “This is what I want to be doing.”

That’s no bueno. Read more…

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Go get a toy so you can fuck yourself.

September 24th, 2014 4 comments

Enjoying myselfNo, I’m not telling you to go get a toy so you can fuck yourself–though you can, if you want. That’s how last night started.

(P.S. It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these, so cut me some slack.)

“Go get a toy so you can fuck yourself. I need entertainment.”

He was on a conference call with one of our closest friends (who he also happens to work with) and a customer, and his part of the job was done. The phone was on mute, but the windows were open. I’m pretty sure I turned five shades of red in five seconds flat. The idea of me being his entertainment gets me every time. Read more…

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Best. Orgasm. Ever.

April 3rd, 2014 2 comments

So I’m sitting on the couch, so engrossed in seed hunting on Amazon that I’m barely paying attention to the murder porn on TV. The show’s not even close to over. I figure I’ve got a few more minutes to decide which indeterminate tomatoes I want to grow. But Master turned to me and said, “Why don’t you go get in the shower?”

It’s late, so I know we’re not going anywhere. He wants me to wash up so he can make me all dirty again. It’s kinda his thing. Only this time, I’m gonna make me all dirty, too, because earlier in the day, I’d asked to use one of my toys.

Well, okay. “Asked” is giving me more credit than I deserve. I have a hard time with the asking, so I popped off an (I hoped) adorable little, “You should let me play with one of my toys, today,” complete with my head canted sideways and my knee swiveled in.

I shouldn’t be telling him what he should be doing, but this is actually an improvement. I started by masturbating without permission, then moved on to just not masturbating to avoid the humiliation of having to ask someone to pleasure myself. And in truth, the reason that I’m doing anything at all is because Master threatened to start throwing away toys if I didn’t. Starting with Tantus. For serious. Bastard. Read more…

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Sexual Rewards Are the Best Kind

August 24th, 2013 Comments off

Enjoying myself“Let’s get ready, and go do the yard,” Master said as he got out of his chair and pulled on a shirt.

Ever the complainer, I pulled a face, sagged as comically as I could, and replied, “I don’t wanna pull weeds.”

“If we don’t do it now, we’ll be too tired,” he said, ignoring the fact that technically, even though I was joking, I was talking back to him. “Get dressed.”

So I did. I hate pulling weeds because it means pulling weeds out of the cracks in the cement, too, and that’s hard to do! I’ve thought about getting some sort of spray, but I have no idea how spraying the weeds in the front yard will affect the food growing in the backyard, so I haven’t. I suppose I should just research natural options…but I haven’t. Read more…

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I’m fucking you, whether you’re wet or not.

June 19th, 2013 11 comments

bed“I don’t care if you don’t get wet. I’m fucking you anyway.” has been heard a time or two over the past few days. And he’s done just that. And then he pulls out the cane, or a flogger, or our new Tantus paddle, and wales on my ass, and suddenly I’m dripping down my leg.

Maybe I should edit the list of potential reasons I’m having issues with vaginal dryness, and add “I need a different kind of foreplay”?

So yesterday, Master greeted me with, “How is Daddy going to hurt you today? Because we all know it goes straight to your pussy.”

My body reacted to the words, but still I wasn’t wet. Not until he walked over and slapped me a few times before grabbing my hair and pulling my head back so that I could look at him.

“I guess I’ll just make sure you’re wet before I want to fuck you,” he said, and then he slapped me again. Read more…

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Whipped into Speaking Up

October 14th, 2011 Comments off

He came into the kitchen to talk to me while I cooked breakfast as He so often does. I stopped what I was doing and closed the distance between us. I never lifted my eyes above His shoulder. And I wrapped my arms around Him and nuzzled my face into the crook between His shoulder and His jaw.

I started in my head three times before I felt Him smile and heard Him ask, “What?”

“I really missed stuff like last night.” I stammered. Seven words that for most people would be simple, but me? I guard stuff like that with my life. It’s dangerous letting someone know how you feel. It shows them your weakness.

Last night…

Last night He was mean. Pinching and biting and slapping. Hair pulling and throat fucking and roughly forcing me into whatever position He wanted me in. And then He whipped me.

“Reach your hand back there and make your cunt cum.” And He whipped me as my legs trembled and my fingers worked and that explosive warmth gradually built in my clit.

Then I finished the blow job we’d started on the couch. This time, He was more gentle, but there was no question who was in control.

I really missed stuff like last night.

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