(Read Submission, Part 2)
Well, it was supposed to be a Saturday Night Submission, actually. But sadly, the s-type had a nasty headache. And the d-type declared a rain delay because, and I quote, “I don’t want to beat a woman who already has a headache.” The woman in question proceeded to pout. The d-type was not swayed (dammit). “I’m taking care of you. That’s my job, remember?” Crap. What an inconvenient time for him to remember that. LOL
He promised morning play instead. I went to sleep with visions of sugar plums (or something) dancing in my head.
Sunday morning I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for some good play time. The d-type, again, had other ideas.
“Go put the clean dishes away, clean up the kitchen, and load and start the dishwasher.”
OK, fine, so I followed the orders from my favorite Lieutenant, even though all I wanted to do was throw myself at him. I was being a Good Girl ™, with hopes that I would be suitably rewarded. Then I found myself getting horny—from cleaning the kitchen, fergawdsake–just because Himself had ordered it. Seriously, us s-types are truly wired weirdly sometimes.
Kitchen done, I wandered back into the bedroom, and stood by the bed in my lacy boy shorts…and nothing else.
(Imagine these in black with turquoise embroidery…and, um, a few sizes bigger. I’m a plushious wench :))
Himself (in seriously sexy black boxer briefs): “Get your restraint collar.”
I dove into the toy bag and started pulling out leather stuff. One cuff, two cuffs, three cuffs…Collar!
Himself: “Get those out too.”
Me: “The cuffs?”
I dove back into the toy bag and found the elusive 4th cuff….after I pulled everything else out of it. I really need to get that damn thing organized.
::scrambling to kneel::
“Lean forward.” As he fastened my collar, a bolt of pure lust shot through me.
He rubbed my face against his still-clothed (dammit!) hard cock. Up, down, sideways, and across, repeat…
I. Wanted. To. Taste. Him. So. Bad. I may have mouthed him a bit (oh, who am I kidding? There’s no “may” about it), but otherwise I behaved myself. Okay, I admit, I whimpered when he pushed me away. But really, who can blame a wench for that??
Himself: “Put your cuffs on.”
He left the room while I scampered to obey. Each buckle I fastened made me feel just…that…much…more…submissive. And wet. Let’s not forget wet.
When he came back, I was kneeling up on my side of the bed, facing him, eyes down, hands on my thighs, drifting on the edges of my happy place.
“Come here.” Oh, how I love that stern, commanding voice. I crawled across the bed and kneeled in front of him. He reached under the bed.
Wait, did I hear…jingling?
My cunt spasmed when he clipped the chain to my collar; I gasped and shuddered while he blindfolded me. Then, finally, I assumed the head-down-ass-up position that he prefers, my hands holding onto the lovely, lovely chain.
I was lying there in a happy daze, when–SMACK!!, his brought his hand down on my left ass-cheek, HARD. I squealed in shock. Before I could recover, he grabbed my ankles and pulled them back and out.
Then–CRACK!! Something thin and hard struck my right cheek. I jumped, and felt the heat spreading out from the thin line of impact. The crop, with with no warm-up. Fuck!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!! I yipped. He hit me with the long, heavy leather flogger–across my ass, on my back, on the outsides of my hips and thighs– WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!! He was merciless.
I started to worry. Had I done something wrong? Was I being punished? Why was he flogging me so much harder, so much earlier than usual?
He pushed my thighs farther apart. I waited, trembling, and then WHAM!! A hard hit straight to my wide-open cunt.
Oh holy fucking shit my christ. He has never hit my pussy that hard before, and spread open like I was, I had no protection at all for my tender pink dangly bits. He hit me again, and again, and again…I screamed and howled. I raised up my pussy as far as I could, trying desperately to get away from the evil *thing* he was hitting me with.
I heard myself whimpering. It fucking *hurt*so*bad.* I was very close to safe-wording, for only the 2nd time ever. I wondered for a second whether he was getting rougher, or I was getting wimpier. Then he whipped me again, and I knew, it was definitely not ME that had changed.
He started working my ass and back again. Compared to the serious pain of him whipping my swollen, unprotected clit, the flogger hitting my ass felt almost gentle.
That doesn’t mean I wasn’t still howling, though. I clenched the blanket in my teeth and howled non-stop. I was sniffling by then, too, thoroughly convinced that he was mad at me for something. My mind was trying so hard to make sense of the situation, and that was the only reasonable explanation I could think of.
It never occurred to me that he was just doing it because he enjoyed it. Seriously, it did not. I was not firing on all cylinders at that point.
It stopped, thank god, and then he was at my head.
Himself: “Are you okay? Is it too much?”
Me: “It’s kind of hard…it hurts.” ::snuffle snuffle::
Himself: “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I whuffled again. He stroked my hair, and just like that, I relaxed. When he pets me, he gives me such a feeling of safety, peace, and well-being…it’s balm for my soul. I sank into it and let the fear slip away.
He moved, and my nose bumped into his naked cock. Silky skin over a hard cock…there’s nothing like it. My heart started thumping.
Himself: “This is how you get a flogging break—by pleasuring me.” My pussy clenched in response. I think I forgot to breathe for a minute.
I knew then that he wasn’t punishing me, because he gave me his cock to worship. He knows that’s a treat for me, and that I am always happy when his cock is in my mouth.
I took the head of his cock in my mouth and lapped at the drops of pre-cum. The salty-sweet taste of it burst on my tongue. I took him in as far as I could. I wanted him to know that I adore his cock; I wanted him to know how much I love doing this for him. I licked him and tasted him and smelled him, and I wanted more…
…he grabbed my hair and pulled me away, and I whimpered, I didn’t want to let go. Then he guided me down to his balls…Oh, I love his balls, almost as much as I love his cock, and I licked them joyfully, breathing in the intoxicating, musky scent of Himself. It’s like a drug to me, irresistibly sexy, and the lust I feel when I smell him goes straight to my pussy and leaves me dripping wet.
I was in my happy space. I knew he wasn’t mad at me, and I felt loved and cherished. After that, the thud of the flogger and the smack of his fists against my ass warmed my whole body. My muscles were heavy and relaxed, the endorphins were kicking in, I felt every blow deep in my core. He flogged my cunt again, more thud and less sting, and I could feel my pussy swelling, so wet, dripping down my legs…Oh, I was ready, so ready for him.
(To be continued…)