A few things to catch up on and then a wee story to reward you for hanging in here with me.
1. There was no HNT this week because I was really under the weather. (I know some of you peep over here just for that!) So here’s an older pic to mollify you:
It is a good memory for me too, as it is from my last playtime with Master.
2. There won’t be a playtime this weekend as planned…I’m just about over my stomach issue…and Master “caught” it. NOT from me, since I haven’t seen the Man in 7 weeks now. But He sent me a text early this morning–blaming me, of course!–telling me of HIS tummy woes. Which He “caught” from my texting Him of my sickness. Of course I HAD to tease Him just a bit…because after all, He kept teasing me about that freaking Blue Bag of His…(which is NOT His toybag and I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out but it’s the thing that cannot be mentioned…). While I’m disappointed that we can’t meet, I certainly understand. When neither partner is fully up to snuff–it’s not going to be a fun time for either.
3. I think you have all been SO patient about waiting for a story…so though this is short, I hope it at least is a wee bit …entertaining!
He wiped his lips carefully with his napkin. Leaning back in his chair, he glanced down at his slut kneeling on the floor. A long silver line of drool ran from the corner of the ball gag, snagged on her nipple, which was swollen and bulbous with the tight black thread drawn around and around it. The shiny drop of spittle then cascaded to pool in the vee of her thighs, before it slipped down her legs, a rolling brook of slime. A small puddle was forming under her knees. She was a luscious wreck, as appealing in her sloppy mess as the perfectly grilled steak he had just finished eating.
“That was a lovely supper, slut. Very well done.”
He noted the lines of strain around her mouth, figured that her shoulders were likely bothering her, tied tightly behind her as they were. Or perhaps it was the tightness of the crotch rope that was causing stress. Her tits were a beautiful shade of purple, and his cock tightened in response. Envisioning his crop slapping down over those eggplant-colored beauties, he wanted to spring up from the table and begin to play with her. After all, dinner and a bit of entertainment was a way to soothe a man after a long hard day at work!
Her stomach growled, and he was reminded that she had, after all, prepared him a meal of great enjoyment, which he had chosen to not share with her. Still, it wouldn’t do to let the poor thing keel over from starvation. Leaning forward, he removed the ball gag. Scooping up the trail of gunk, he wiped it across the bridge of her nose, causing her to recoil, and wince as the crotch rope bit into her tender flesh.
“I know, dirty slut. You’re sore and hungry, aren’t you? Carefully now, crawl over here to the table. There you go.”
His hands steadied her as she slowly and painfully made her way to his feet. He placed his plate on the floor. A wee dash of juice from the steak made a bold slash across it. She looked at it, then at him. He could hardly fail to notice the sweet tears gathered in her eyes. He patted her on the head. Sitting back, he took in his view of her. Just gorgeous, hair matted, spit everywhere, piteous hungry look on her face.
Unzipping his jeans, he released his shaft, growing thicker by the moment. Holding the thick rod, he waved the head towards her.
“Suppertime, slut. Come and get it.”