Waiting


I am on my knees; head downcast, naked, blindfolded, my hands tied securely behind my back. Helpless. Bound. At His mercy.

He has me exactly where, and how, He wants me. I can do nothing but wait for Him to use me as He desires.

The anticipation burns as I wait for Him. I endure His scrutiny; feeling His eyes on me as He slowly walks around me; occasionally filling my ears with the loud snapping crack of His belt.

He examines me. Although I cannot see Him, I can sense how He views me. I yearn for His touch. I hunger for His command; eager to obey His slightest whim.

His silence is agonising. My cunt is hot and wet. I long for Him to acknowledge me, to give me some indication of His desire, His need.

I wait in silence; enduring each second as it ticks by. My legs begin to cramp in the uncomfortable position of my submission to Him.

I wait in silence, as the sound of leather cracking against leather fills my senses.

Discomfort wars with anticipation, pain with arousal. What is His will? What does He require of me?

A shiver runs through me as the belt coils around my neck. It presses my skin as He pulls it tight.

A sharp tug forces me to raise my head.

I become aware of His breathing; rapid, laboured. I can almost feel His pre-climactic tension. Apart from His breathing and the rhythmic beat of His hand stroking His cock, there is silence.

He groans.

His cum strikes my face like a blow from His hand. Hot, rich, sticky; I feel it trickle down my face, warming my skin as moves.

At last, He speaks. “Open your mouth, little one. Taste your reward.”

I comply. His cock fills my mouth. I tighten my lips around Him and savour the taste of His essence.

#WickedWednesday
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Punished


His belt rains down hard on my arse. Once again, Master C is punishing me for being a naughty little slut; and, of course, I deserve it. After all, I didn’t need to suck the very dishy I guy I met on a work night out off. I certainly didn’t need to go back to his place. I absolutely didn’t need to fuck him; twice. No, I didn’t need to do any of those things, but I did them just the same; and now I am being punished.

My attempts to soften His displeasure by sucking Him off were to no avail. All that it earned me was a sore jaw and a faceful of cum. And so I ended up bent over the hard, wooden table, my ankles pushed apart by the spreader, the ropes passed under the table to secure my wrists to my ankles. Then came His belt.

Ten lashes to each cheek; each one biting deeper and more painfully than last. Master C forces me to count each stroke; one to the left, one to the right.

I gasp the numbers out between my sobs. Tears trickle down my cum encrusted face. My arse burns. I can feel the lovely hot, red glow spread over it.

A pause. Master C surveys the marks He has left on my bottom; the rosy red glow of my stinging cheeks. He decides another five lashes to each is in order.

Again, I count out each stroke, each stinging kiss of the leather on my skin. The pain is intense, but that is part of the lesson, the consequence of my actions.

Untied, stretched out on the bed as Master C rubs the soothing balm into my hot skin, He asks me in His softest tones if I have learned my lesson. I nod. “Yes, Master,” I respond meekly.

“What have you learned, my naughty little slut?”

“That when I misbehave, I must be punished, Master,”

He holds me close. “Good girl,” He whispers.

And in that moment, I am His good girl; punished, admonished and forgiven. I know, however, that it’s only a question of time before I’ll misbehave again.

#MasturbationMonday

Verge


It’s those final moments. Bound, helpless, vulnerable. Completely at His mercy.

He looks at you like a predator contemplates its prey.

You are naked, more than naked; your soul is bared to Him as you endure the intense scrutiny of His gaze.

His hunger is palpable; you can feel it in eyes as they feast on you, devouring you where you lie.

Anticipation builds inside you.

Whatever He chooses, you are helpless to resist.

The clock ticks, seconds pass, each one an eternity as you wait.

You sigh as He traces the contours of your spine with a finger.

You wince as you hear the snap of His belt.

You melt as you hear the words you have been waiting for: “Are you ready, little one?”

“Yes Master,” you reply, and you brace yourself, waiting for the first kiss of His leather on your skin…

#MasturbationMonday

Showing a little restraint


There is something delicious about being completely at another person’s mercy. Throw in a blindfold so that I have no idea what the other person is going to do, and you have an instantly quivering Morag who is just about ready to cum before she’s even been touched.

But much as I enjoy being tied up, I also occasionally love playing the part of the restrainor. It’s a power thing, I freely admit. I find absolute trust to be immensely sexy.  For me, the whole thing isn’t about pushing the other person to the limits of their endurance (and to be honest, I don’t think I could do that to Master C even though I’m sure He is at least physically capable of doing that to me); it’s about trusting them absolutely to know how far they can go.

I enjoy the helplessness of being tied up, gagged and blindfolded; having to take whatever is inflicted upon me, but on those rare occasions when the tables are turned, the feeling of power and control is as much of a turn on as is the helplessness of being tied spread-eagle to the bed and having Master C do whatever He desires.

I know that using just my lips, teeth, tongue and fingers, I can have Master C whimpering, desperate for release in a matter of minutes. What’s more, it is fully in my power to grant or deny Him the pleasure of that release. The restrainor holds all the aces and the restrainee just has to accept whatever is being done to them.  As someone who is usually on the receiving end of such situations, I find these occasional reversals to be extremely arousing. Sometimes the hardest thing in these situations (other than Master C‘s cock) if for me not to release Him and have Him do whatever He wants to me.

I know, from experience, that I can deny Master C for over an hour, teasing and torturing Him with my mouth and fingers until I impale myself on His straining cock and feel his rich, Hot cum erupt inside me with a force that makes my eyes water.  I know that. although Master C is bound and “helpless” in these situations, He is still able to reward me for pleasuring Him.

Similarly, when I am the one being done to, my orgasm is completely in Master C‘s hands, to grant or deny as he sees fit. When Master C has me at His mercy, it is my turn to endure/enjoy the exquisite agony of being entirely under another person’s control.

Silk scarves, ropes, handcuffs, and blindfolds all figure in our restraining of each other. Master C frequently requires me to wear my ball-gag which adds yet another element to it; denying me the ability to verbally articulate my discomfort/pleasure.

So yes, we both like to restrain and be restrained; but great sex is all about exploring the boundaries of what turns us on, and as far as I’m concerned, the sex Master C and I have goes way beyond great.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday