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I left his loft with a kiss that tasted of coffee. Every step I took to my tiny, book-crammed studio reminded me of the night before. My skin bore the marks of my thorough spanking, and the fabric of my skirt brushed against the bruises. My hips swayed just a little more than usual, head held high, shoulders back – the walk of a woman who has gotten what she has wanted. This was not a walk of shame. It was a walk of fierce pride.
The warmth of the sun filtered down through the sparse leaves, kissing my skin, as my thoughts percolated in my head. Out of all the women he could have chosen. Me. Mousy, quiet, awkward me, who almost dropped a book in her soup. Admittedly, most women would not cherish bruises as I do, most women would not beg for their own degradation. And yet…
There are two sides to that coin. Most men will not give me the bruises that I want; they are squeamish, afraid. Most men will not make me beg to worship their cock, giving a me a twist of humiliation with the inherent sweetness of oral. Perhaps this was the end my streak of unsatisfying partners. The thought of holding his hand on my pleasant walk wormed its way into my mind. I quickly pushed it away.
“Oh Cecelia, you’ve been here before. Don’t get your hopes up.” I said aloud, to the squirrels busily burying their bounty in the dirt, aloud to no one.
As I was climbing the stairs to my third story walk up, I realized I hadn’t gotten his number. He only had mine. It was completely in his control whether or not this happened again.
My stomach sank as I realized my phone hadn’t buzzed once this afternoon. Not a peep from him.
I sighed heavily as I locked the door behind me. I just wanted a hot shower to wipe away the sudden nagging doubt I had.
I peeled off my clothes in my bedroom and dropped them on the floor. The sun streamed into my windows and the welts on my ass caught my eye in the full length mirror. I cupped my breasts, arched my back and admired the way the light hit my body, then burst into laughter. I muttered to myself, “Right. You are such a sex kitten. Don’t forget to take off your glasses before you get into the shower.”
I plunked the tortoiseshell frames down on the sink vanity and turned the hot water on. It started to fog the mirror as I stared and sighed at myself. I stepped in the shower and scenes from the night before washed over me, unbidden. I really didn’t want to think about it, but couldn’t help myself.
I couldn’t help but think of the way his hands felt on my hips, the way his voice sounded in my ears as I lathered up the washcloth. The rough fabric trailed over my skin, and left it slippery and clean. My soapy hands and the cloth rubbed over my full breasts and I reflexively squeezed my nipples, a gasp escaping my lips.
My hands slid over my bruised and tender ass, causing me to grimace and exhale sharply in the cascading water, wishing he were there behind me, pressing up against my sensitive flesh. Reaching between my legs, just like my hands were doing… “Ah! No! Stop! Just get clean!” I scolded myself, feeling myself blush at how easy it was for him to have gotten in my head. “It was just one night. Keep it together.”
I tried to be all business from there. I rinsed, and stepped out of the shower, and toweled dry, though one part of me seemed to stay wet, despite my scolding.
I picked up my clothes from my floor to put them in the hamper, and brought them to my nose and inhaled deeply. They still smelled of him. An exhale, and another slow inhale. I noticed stiff fabric, smears of his cum on my skirt. My already swollen cunt gave a pathetically needy throb and I swore under my breath.
I tossed the soiled skirt on my bed and could feel how I was giving myself over to a man who wasn’t even in the room, who probably wouldn’t even call me again, slipping into submission…
Giving in, with only a little reluctance, to the ache between my legs, I opened my bedside table and picked out my favorite blue dildo.
I laid back on my bed and spread my legs, imagining him in the doorway, watching me. I slowly eased the toy inside my wet pussy, exhaling slowly. I grabbed my skirt and brought it to my face, rubbing the stiff fabric against my lips, then up to my nose. Closing my eyes, I breathed in his scent again. My clit started throbbing and I pistoned the toy in and out of my sopping hole faster and faster, obscene wet noises and gasps filling the room. I left the skirt next to my head, grabbed a vibrator with my free hand, and turned it on against my sensitive clit.
I tried to keep my moans quiet, for my neighbor’s sake, but I couldn’t help it. I was so turned on. I started begging quietly under my breath, “Please fuck me, please fill me with your cum, please.”
My hips twitched against the vibration and the steady stream of dirty talk coming from my mouth, my poor abraded skin rubbing against the blankets. My other hand resumed pushing the toy in and out of me, filling my pussy so deliciously, angled up, rubbing against just the right spot, over isveçbahis and over.
My mind racing, I could almost feel him over me, kissing a sore nipple, (so close to cumming, so close) then whispering in my ear —
Suddenly my fantasy was interrupted by my phone ringing, a contact not saved in my phone. Oh god! Oh fuck! I threw my dirty skirt across the room in a panic.
My pulse raced and I almost dropped the phone with slippery fingers as I tried to answer it, the dildo still firmly lodged inside me. I tried to collect myself as I answered. (I failed.)
My voice, shook and trembled. “H-hello?”
“Hello, my baby girl.”
My pussy involuntarily tightened around the toy, and I couldn’t help but moan.
He knew almost instantly what he had stumbled upon, then. “Ah, I remember that sound in your voice, the way it shakes when you’re close to orgasm. Don’t let me stop you, please continue.”
I laughed, and balanced my phone on the side of my head. I resumed fucking myself with the blue toy, but now his voice was purring in my ear, spurring me on. “Come now, little one. Don’t be shy. Tell me why you needed to come so soon after last night.”
“I-I noticed my skirt had your cum on it,” I said between moans and gasps, my hand moving the toy quickly between my slippery lips. “And,” I moaned as I turned on the vibrator again, “I couldn’t help but admire the bruises you gave me. It turned me on so much.”
“Good girl. Cum for me, Celie. I can tell you’re close. I can hear how much you need it. Greedy little girl. Cum for me now. Say my name as you do.”
I groaned at the extra aural stimulation, and how quickly his words coaxed me over the edge. My pussy quivered around the toy and my hips rode the orgasm. I moaned his name again and again, and he just kept murmuring “Good girl, Celie. You’re my good girl.”
A few moments passed while I collected myself. He spoke. “First, you may have noticed I have not been calling you by your name. I have decided you should have a name that only I call you. To me, you are my Celie.”
“When you hear that name you should hear all that I intend with it. Celie means that you are mine, that I own you. You are my pet, my submissive. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Second, we will be going out again on the 12th, at 7pm. You will text me your address when we are done with this phone call. I will pick you up from your place. Expect a package from me tomorrow. You are to dress nicely for our date, what you wear is up to you.”
“Third, I hope you enjoyed that orgasm, because it will be the last one you have until I decide give you one.”
I whimpered slightly and could almost feel him smiling at it.
“You may touch yourself and bring yourself close to climax, but you may not cum. Is this clear?”
“Yes, sir.” I replied, obediently.
“Now, I will contact you in the meantime. All you need to do is be patient. Now, I want you to take care of yourself tonight. Snuggle in with a good book and enjoy some peace and quiet.”
I smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“Good night, Celie.” Click. Immediately, I texted him my address.
The next day at the library passed uneventfully, my mind occupied with trivial things. It flew by and I almost forgot about the promised delivery until the courier rang the bell to my apartment. It was a heavy, flat parcel, wrapped in twine and manila paper.
With curiosity, I unwrapped it.
I peeled back the paper to reveal a beautiful, leather bound book, gold leaf letters spelling out HOROLOGY along the spine. Horology? Clocks and watchmaking? A note accompanied the book, in neat script he wrote:
I expect you to learn as much as you can about mechanical watches before the 12th. Perhaps the constant thoughts of time will help you to remember to be patient. Remember, you are not to cum unless it is by my hand. Make at least two futile efforts before tomorrow night.
My clit pulsed before he finished talking about watches. By the time he had gotten to the reminder of orgasm denial, my hands were already between my legs, slipping between my slick lips, while I bent slightly over my kitchen counter. I opened the book to the first page and started reading, flicking my clit back and forth, imagining him behind me, watching me as I poured over this random, incredibly boring text, turned on to the point of masturbation just because he told me to.
I laughed to myself as my breathing grew increasingly ragged. In that moment I knew I would do unreasonable things to chase this feeling of possession. That realization, and my persistent, gentle fingers almost sent me over the edge. I quickly pulled a damp hand away with a whimper and a deep frown, despite my feeling of pride at being so obedient.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, with my cheek pressed against the book.
The day of the second date, the weight of longing and desire pressed down on me every minute. I sat at my desk, subconsciously squeezing my thighs over and over again, bringing isveçbahis giriş me close to orgasm as I flipped the pages in the book, committing key facts to memory, obeying.
My skin was electric. I was so keyed up, so in need of his touch, his firm hand and guidance. I’d think of what might happen in the evening, how he would show me I was his, and my cunt would swell and become hot and wet. Every trip to the bathroom was an exercise in cleaning up the sticky mess between my legs and trying not to masturbate to completion.
Usually, I have my head in the clouds, but my daydreams were almost entirely of the filthy variety, just fueling the fire I had growing inside me. I pictured myself leaving the building to see him standing on the corner, then fucking me roughly in the alley behind the building. Him coming in to the building and fucking my mouth in the men’s room while he chastised me to stay quiet. I couldn’t stop.
I almost sprinted home to get ready for our evening. I wanted him so badly I could taste him on my tongue.
I’m sure every submissive has a pre-meeting ritual.
Mine is a long, hot shower, where every inch of me has had the hair tweezed, shaved, smoothed. My skin, exfoliated and moisturized. Every part of me is soft, inviting. All of me cries out to be touched, even if I’m not explicitly asking for it. The clothes are chosen painstakingly. Black stockings, red lace panties, black garter belt. A red and black lace bra. A dark blue polka dot shirt dress with a full skirt and a patent leather, skinny black belt. Demure patent leather kitten heels, to match. Just the right amount of makeup.
I do try my hardest to be a pleasing package. And maybe, just maybe, if I’m extra pleasing, he’ll indulge my need for his attention. Just. Text me. Something. Don’t leave me to simmer away in my own filthy imagination. Please.
7pm on the dot. My buzzer went off. My heartbeat was in my throat and I tried not to seem too eager as I sprinted to the intercom (sorry again, downstairs neighbors!). I counted to four, breathing deeply, then buzzed him in. I heard the security doors slam shut and his footfalls ascending to my landing. I opened my door and saw him, my breath catching. He wore a sharp black suit, with a lavender vest underneath, softening the severity of the black. Clutched in his left hand was a bouquet of flowers – red and yellow daisies.
I started to speak, welcoming him in to my apartment, and he cut my sentence short with a full kiss, his tongue explored my mouth and he grabbed my ass to pull me closer. I could feel his erection straining the front of his immaculately tailored pants, pressing up against me and I moaned into his mouth. I wanted it in me so badly in that instant.
“Hello, my Celie.”
“Why don’t you get these in some water?” He handed me the colorful bouquet and I swept off into the kitchen for a large mason jar. I filled it, and set them in, placing them on the windowsill. His eyes didn’t leave me.
“Tonight we are going to a play, which I thought you would enjoy. I have one last thing for you this evening.” He fiddled with a tiny red box. “Turn around, my darling.” I spun around, facing the bed, hoping he’d just push me down and fuck me, but I remembered his urge for patience. I let the hope sit between my legs, quietly.
“Most people go for garish, large, leather collars. I prefer something a little more subtle.” His hands brushed across my collar bone and placed a delicate, silver chain around my neck, fastening it closed with a small tool from his pocket. “There is no clasp on this necklace. The only way to take it off is to break it. You can easily wear other jewelry with it, and it’s meaning will only be known to you and I. I ask for your enthusiastic obedience. I will never ask you to do anything that will harm you. This is your collar for as long as you choose to be with me. Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, yes, sir. Very much.” He kissed me again, and my knees went weak.
“Now. Let me see you.” He spun me around, and lifted up my skirt and began rubbing my clit through the lace against my skin. “Nice choice on panties but I think you can do better next time. I prefer less fabric, or none at all. I want access to you at all times.” He smiled warmly. “You’ll learn my preferences soon enough, I’m sure.” I nodded vigorously as my thighs trembled. He kept rubbing as he unbuttoned the top of the dress. “Ah! Matching bra. Nice touch.”
After days of touching myself, fantasizing about this exact moment, I felt my orgasm swell up quickly from inside me, and I gripped his arm and started to beg, “please, please don’t stop.” I would have fucked his hand if he would have let me.
Of course, he stopped with a perfectly evil smile, just as I’d hoped he would.
With a frown, I said “No! No please! Please, please let me cum!”
He kissed my forehead, almost with regret. “My dear, you have given yourself to me. Trust that I have your best interests at heart. I know you need to be intellectually as well as isveçbahis yeni giriş as, ah, how should I put this? Manually stimulated.” He smiled. “Darling pet, you need to get yourself together, or we are going to be late to what I have for you tonight.” I scrambled, and out into the night we went.
The play might have been great, I don’t know. This was normally the thing I would have loved, if I couldn’t feel his warm thigh pressing against mine. I would be hanging on every lush word if I wasn’t driven to distraction by the way his lips looked in the shadows of the stage lighting. I couldn’t stop thinking about my aching cunt and touching his thigh with my fingertips, slowly tracing out the letters of my pleading, wishing he would take me home and give me every inch of his thick cock.
At the end of the play he handed me a small bag. He leaned over to me. “In this bag is a plug. You will wear this for the rest of the evening.” He patted my ass. “Now go, put it in.”
I rushed off to the bathroom. Once in the stall, I smeared my saliva on the tiny red plug for lubrication and reached around and pressed the tip up against my asshole. I bit my lip to keep from making noise as I slid it inside me, while ladies in fancy dresses chattered and streamed in and out of the room. Finally, I pushed it in as far as it would go, and smoothed my dress around me. I could feel my swollen pussy give a gush of wetness.
I washed my hands and took short quick strides over to him, adjusting to the feeling of walking around in public with something in my ass, my face bright red, sure that everybody suspected. He took my arm, and escorted me out of the building to our car.
The thing about plugs, and I guess anal in general, is that it makes me quiet, extremely submissive. All that exists is the feeling of fullness inside me, in such a forbidden place. I suppose it’s part embarrassment at how much I like it.
In the car, wet and pliant, he asked me to tell him everything I learned about clocks and watches. I quietly babbled on about gears and springs, gasping every time the car went over a bump in the road, jostling the plug inside me. I could see him fight a smile while I displayed my obedience, fighting for composure.
He parked in front of my apartment, and began leading me up the stairs, laughing at my awkward climbing and my fake pout.
“Tell me how this makes you feel, Celie.”
“I’m so embarrassed. It feels so good inside me, but I shouldn’t like it. It’s taking all of my concentration to speak and make sense. All I want is to come. Please, sir, please tell me I can come tonight.”
“Yes, baby girl,” he said with a warm smile.
We stepped into the apartment with a deep kiss and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to him. He led me to the bed, then sat down on the edge. Facing me, he began unbuttoning my dress. His lips trailed over my belly and he pushed my dress down over my hips to the floor. I stood, running my fingers through his hair. I was his toy, to unwrap as he saw fit. He unclasped my garters, and pulled them down with my panties, kissing along the top of thigh, perilously close to my wet slit.
“Take off your bra.”
I held my forearm in front of my breasts and unclasped the hooks in the back. Slowly, I pulled the straps down off my arms, my head angled downward, simply holding the cups in place in front of me with false modesty. I pulled my forearm away with the bra and held it out to my side, letting it fall to the floor next to the other discarded pieces of my outfit. I stood there naked, but for the stockings and the delicate chain around my neck.
“Kneel,” he said, softly.
I fell to my knees, acutely aware of the plug still filling me. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick, and eagerly, I reached for it. He held out a finger to slow me down. “Ask politely, first, darling.”
“Please sir, please, may I…” I whimpered.
“May you what?”
“Please, sir, may I suck your cock!” I blurted out, more exclamation than question.
“Yes, Celie, you may.”
With a grin, I quickly moved forward and grabbed the base of his dick, wrapping my lips around him. I licked around the circumference, pausing to suck at the little delicate piece of skin on the front of the head. Slowly, I began bobbing my head along the first couple inches of him, and I could hear him sigh happily.
I let the saliva dribble out of my mouth as I angled down on him, lubricating my lips and his shaft. I pulled my head up, and my hand followed, pulling gently. When my head went back down, my hand followed, jerking him off and sucking at the same time. I could taste his precum start to leak into my mouth with every upstroke and I sped up in response.
Not content with the amount of his dick I was taking in my mouth, I removed my hands and slowly took the entire length of his cock in my mouth and throat. I could feel my eyes water and my gag reflex fighting against me. Again, I took him all in my mouth, choking on how big he was. I lifted my head up with a gasp for air, then licked him from base to tip, squeezing every last drop of precum from him that I could into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around his head and went back to sucking, eagerly. I couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.
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