His son was running late for school and still fast asleep. He said he was going to wake him by breathing his coffee breath in his face. I asked if he would wake me that way too. He said he had a much better way of waking me - he will be raping my ass.
We have been very focused on my ass lately. Well, really its his ass... it belongs to him and he can do whatever he wishes with it and whatever he wishes with me. He sent me to a sex shop the other day and had me shop for a butt plug while he was on the phone with me. He spoke filthy words in my ear and growled his orders to me while I tried to maintain my composure in public.
I felt like everyone was watching me and knew just what I was - his whore, his slut, his cumrag. They must have known I was talking to my Master. They must have known he was growling his orders to me - guiding me through the shop, telling me what to look for and what to avoid, telling me that he knew I was wet and soaking through my panties. He was right. My panties were soaked. He asked if I could smell his meat. I could, I did. The scent of arousal was intoxicating and I wondered if others could smell it if when they stood close to me. I wondered if the people in the shop, my fellow perverts, were aware of my shallow breathing and low panting. Did they know he was making his whore wet and desperate with need? Did they know I was nothing but his? Did they know I was owned and would do anything for my owner?
Once the butt plug was selected he asked me to look for a hood clamp. I went into their fetish section at the back of the store to look for one. I was greeted by a display of various floggers, cuffs, crops, nipple clamps, and even a few swings. He heard my breathing change in intensity and he asked what had caught my attention. I told him about the floggers and nipple clamps and he told me how he would be using both on me to torture my wanton flesh. Lost in the moment and drifting into subspace, I began to moan softly. I started to beg, calling out his name repeatedly. I was begging for him to make me cum and when I slipped slightly out of my subspace haze and realized where I was I begged him to not make me cum for fear that someone would see me. He was merciless - making my knees weak and my entire being tremble. He made me cum while I stood there looking at the vast array of nipple clamps. He made me cum in public - in a sex shop in the middle of a weekday. He made me cum for him because its what he wanted... and what I wanted or my comfort level were irrelevant.
He said he loved that I could cum for him without even touching myself. Knowing that I pleased him was a greater reward than the orgasm.