Bidden to remain, to stay on the fucking wall, my forehead is pressed firmly against it. i feel the textured wall treatment embossed in my flesh as His hand holds me there for a minute.
‘Stay on the fucking wall. Do. Not. Move.”
Then silence, but for the voices on the tv across the room. The water goes on in the bathroom and i take a deep breath, shift my feet, left, right, left, bending and flexing each knee. My forehead is still pressed into the wall, lighter now.
i wonder where He is. Water still running, not gushing so i think perhaps He is cooling water for a drink?
“you weren’t thinking about lifting that pretty little head, were you little girl?”
He is standing right behind me, His voice a hot whisper in my right ear.
i jolt and i think i scream a little bit. More than a gasp, to be sure. He is fucking with my head big time and He knows it. i never heard Him, never felt Him, had no. fucking. idea He was there.
‘i-i thought You were in the bathroom, Master’ i finally stammer. His voice is mellifluous, and resonates with His barely suppressed laughter.
“I know you did.”
And He does laugh then.
This is the start to our wall session, full of little surprises, touches, pinches and fingerings. Presses against my asshole. Swirls around my clit.
Explicit orders to not cum.
Works me to a fever-pitch, hips banging against the wall, begging to cum.
‘please Master, please…”
“you’re pretty excited little girl…?”
‘yes Master, please…”
His finger leaves off and i’m left hanging, forehead still pressed against the fucking wall as the lust drops back. i want to scream. i settle for a long low moan. So frustrated. This is the third fucking time He’s gotten me to this point, then slipped away.
i think about taking my head off the wall when
i rise to my toes, press hard against the wall and keen out a quick, short, high-pitched cry.
i’m trying to climb the wall. With my forehead.
Then silence for a moment, as i try to breath through the fire blooming in my posterior. Holy mother, that fucking hurt!!!
His hand smooths over my butt, He murmurs. Praise, and a pleased sound in His throat. Welted. Bruises forming. He murmurs this into my neck, and i hear it out in subspace. A thin tether of voice pulling me back to Him.
“You know what, slut?”
my voice is whisper quiet, tiny. ‘what, Master?”
“It occurs to me that in all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never done this with my left hand.”
He has mingled amazement and glee in His voice. Master of the mindfuck, that Man. He is leaning into me, His right hand wrapped around me, holding a tit, and i can picture Him raising his left hand, looking at it. Admiring it, wondering.
He drops my breast and steps away. He wouldn’t. He…
YELP !! Squeal!!
and He laughs. ‘Whoooo-ah….’ He says…”Whaddaya know…”