Texts of a Sexual Nature

The true beginning to our play date started on Friday. I texted Him, in some frustration, that my family would (hopefully, dear goddess they’re taking for-fucking-ever) be leaving around noon. There was much preparation, much foot-dragging slowness. They did a few errands while I loaded the car. At long last we waved farewell, and I went back inside and stood for a moment, listening to the silence.

It was beautiful.

Don’t get me wrong…I love my family. But they are noisy, and I needed the reprieve. I had my own goals to accomplish while they were gone.  I began working on a few things, when I remembered that I hadn’t checked to see if Master had responded. I grabbed my phone, depressed the button…and there it was.

Within the hour that your family leaves, put your clamps on your nipples for 11 minutes.

That was it. Implied at the end was “and go along with your day” don’t you think? I wasn’t allowed an orgasm, there was no Friday Night Fuck date to look forward to. This was a claim of ownership. My family was gone and I could be His for the weekend…and boy didn’t those clamps remind me? Affixing those clamps to my tender flesh, I felt His hand on me. As I moved around my house in a half-daze, I kept smiling as the clamps bit into my nipples. Each movement brought the sway of the chain against my belly, and an answering tug on my tits.

And an answering flood between my thighs.

He not only reminded me, quite skillfully and simply of who and what I am, but He also cranked the old sex dial up.

We texted a bit throughout the afternoon, but not much, as we were both fairly busy.  I went to work and did my thing, and stopped at the store to find something for dinner. Taking care of the mundane things that needed my attention, I got ready to eat, and my phone buzzed.

At 8:00 p.m. clothespins on your nipples for 11 minutes.

Yes. Definitely His. Definitely owned. Definitely turned on.