“Get on the fucking Wall,” He says. His words are terse, curt even. He pushes me against the wall so hard my head thunks it. It’s violent and erotic.
“Fucking stay there.”
Then silence. I am not blindfolded, but automatically, I shut my eyes when there. It is a refuge. He comes up behind me and puts the cuffs on my wrists, but doesn’t fasten them to one another. The dangling hooks are a promise of something…..later.
He taps my right thigh, slips the thigh cuff up over my ankle, up my calf, up my thigh and tightens it, then does the same to my other leg. My hands are firmly against the wall. I think He leaves the room, but instead He has gone to fetch the blindfold. He slides it over my eyes, then, shutting out any possibility of seeing what’s about to happen.
The door opens, closes.
These things He does, these setting-up things, never fail to turn me on. Putting me on the Wall was brilliant. It kept me from being at loose ends, rather like a dog being kenneled, the Wall soothes me, even as it turns me on.
Will He hit me?
Will He ignore me?
I don’t have any idea.
He must be gone. I heard the door close, and it’s been silent. I take a chance, pushing that envelope, and reach down to rub my pussy. Immediately He grabs my wrist and tells me to keep my hand on the fucking wall, slapping it up over my head.
“YesSir,” I murmur, heart racing, and pussy throbbing.
I hear the door open, close, and I stay, exactly where He placed me. I hear nothing for long minutes, but He doesn’t fool me this time.
The door opens, closes again.
“Hello, nilla.” The voice is not Master’s.
“Do you remember this big cock of mine?” His hand takes mine off the wall, rubbing it over his crotch.
My heart races, fear, nerves, both dashing through me. I don’t want to do anything to make Master look bad. And I don’t know where He is, my Master. Did He send Sir P in here alone? I don’t have any idea.
“Get on your knees and take out my cock. You remember how, girl?”
I nod as I drop to my knees. His hand touches my hair, as I feel the giant lump of his cock, rigid under his pants. And then that massive shaft, all million inches of it, is free. I feel the heat of it by my face.
“You know what to do with it, girl. Open your mouth.” His words are kindly, firmly stated.
My mouth opens, takes the head inside. My lips stretch around his girth, and in moments his hand on my head is demanding more, deeper.
I choke, gag.
“Mmmm, good girl. Take it, take it all down now, like a good girl.”
And I throw up a little in my mouth. And swallow it back, taking his cock deeper, gagging again.
He releases my head, pulls back a bit, lets me up off it. I’m not afraid of not breathing, not at all. But his cock is too fucking big and makes me gag.
Apparently, he doesn’t mind that a bit.
In seconds, the reprieve is over, and his hand guides my head down, down.
“She needs more practice,” he says over his shoulder.
“Hmmmm…” Master replies.
There is a sharp arrow of lust that spears into my pussy with that one sound. Master is here! Watching. (and taking pictures tho i didn’t know that at the time, either)
His cock is slick and wet and heavy in my mouth. He’s not fucking my mouth, but teaching my mouth to accept him. I swirl my tongue around his head, but in seconds, he’s pulled out and whips me around to the bed. Suddenly my pussy is filled with him.
I cannot fight it. I don’t want to, either. It’s not the fucking, exactly, that is the turn on. He’s so big, painfully big.
It’s the process of being used. Of being objectified. Of being a fucktoy. It is a massive kink of mine, and it comes to life whenever Sir P visits.
After a round of fucking, I’m back to sucking him, gagging and puking again…(don’t know why you guys like that, I really don’t)…but I get through it, and then we’re back to fucking. I ride him, he lets me get on top and fuck him to several great orgasms…and then I’m pushed off again, pulled to the edge of the bed and he’s having me lick his balls, he strokes his cock and when he cums, there is a lot of it.
Splat! on my cheek.
Splat! on my tongue.
Splat! on my nose.
He uses his cock to wipe it on my face, an erotic paintbrush.
Master throws a wet facecloth at me, it hits me on my nose. “Clean yourself up. You’re a shameful mess.”
It’s an erotic flush. He humbles me. Taunts me. Teases me. Fucks with my head. And when Sir P takes his leave of us? He fastens my wrist cuffs to my thighs. I am helpless now, unable to see, unable to move.
He flips me over onto my belly and fucks my ass hard. Fucks me long and hard and deep. My ass is His. I am His.
(as a brief aside, for those that are wondering about my despondent state…Master and I have recovered our equilibrium. I have been punished, and forgiven. I’m really, really glad that is behind me, and we’re back–if not in that “totally happy” place, then well on our way. ~n~)