My nights are restless. I can't sleep. I toss and turn through most of the night. Every time I move or shift or open my eyes, the ache inside me builds. My Master torments me. It isn't just his cunt that aches - its all of me. My skin aches for his touch, my lips ache to taste him, my fingers ache to feel and stroke him.
At 4:15am I tossed and turned until I found myself on my back with my fingers inside my panties, caressing his aching pussy. Silky smooth folds of aching flesh welcomed my fingers but my mind still wanted him. With further encouragement I probably could have had my one-a-day orgasm, but I didn't. I stopped because I knew I wouldn't be able to release the way I needed. Later today, when I'm alone, I will fill the bedroom with my screams when the unrelenting vibrations of a toy combined with thoughts of him will bring me over the edge.
I keep envisioning him having me bend over some piece of furniture to brace myself - maybe a bed or the armrest of a couch or the back of a low chair or a countertop. He has me spread my legs apart wide and bend over as far as the furniture allows so that my ass can be high and my holes exposed to him. He examines me and I am mortified, but I can't and won't object because I am his to do with as he wishes. His strong fingers probe and rub and encourage the slick wetness to swallow him up. He tells me I'm his bitch, his whore... he tells me I'm beautiful and that I'm his good little girl. He tells me everything I ache to hear. He makes me moan and whimper and ache for absolute possession. All the while those slick and swollen pink folds ache and that tiny pink button throbs like its calling out his name repeatedly and rhythmically. It is his prisoner and only he can free it from the delicious torment of its captivity.
I need to cum desperately and I beg for release. The desperation in my voice is pathetic and he loves it - as evidenced by his smug and wicked grin. He slaps his pink meat of wanton flesh - once delicately and then harshly. The tense muscles and nerve endings begin to spasm and my knees jerk for a moment as I feel weak. He reminds me harshly not to cum. He reminds me that he controls what he owns and with those words I moan like a desperate animal. He pulls his belt from the loops of his jeans and strikes his aching cunt with it - the pain mingles with the pleasure and my screams fill the air. I want him in me - always in me. His cunt is an empty greedy hole of aching nothingness without him.
He brings me to the brink of orgasm repeatedly, but never allows the release. He reminds me that his pleasure comes first. I acknowledge with an unintelligble grunt. I'm no longer able to speak. I can't string two words together... only moans and whimpers and grunts. It doesn't matter because he isn't looking for idle chit chat from me. In this moment he has me exactly as he wants me - existing for only my most basic needs and desires. I am his obedient and needy cumpuppy. The only words I can utter are "Master" and "please". They are all I need to survive this moment... those words and his mercy.
Will my Master be merciful?
Will he bring his cunt to orgasm time and time and time again until I can no longer stand?
Will he give in to my pathetic pleading when I beg for more?
Or will he taunt my flesh and my soul until I am a puddle of tears?
Will he fuck me so powerfully that each thrust knocks the wind out of my lungs and nearly knocks me off my feet?
Will he yank my hair and reach around to torture my nipples?
Will he growl in my ear and bite my shoulder and back?