It started as a gift.
Master and I had been wandering through a very interesting fantasy about a mission on which he could send me, and by the time we were finished there was much sweating and heavy breathing for us both. As a reward for my part he told me this:
“You may use the glass dildo tonight. But when you are thrusting it in and out you are to be filled with the largest of the butt plugs.”
For the rest of my night this was all I could think of. My lust never abated even as I did chores and wrapped gifts and did other mundane things. At last I completed enough to allow me to fade to bed, and I shed my clothing like a slutty butterfly her boring cocoon.
I stretched out on my bed with only my everyday collar around my ankle, and slathered my plug with plenty of lube. Due to many other challenges in my life I’d not trained my ass for a few days, but I was determined not to take a step back. I would not need the smaller size plug to prime my ass for largest intrusion. I took deep breaths and pressed and relaxed muscles and pressed and bit my lip and god dammit pressed! And at last my determination was rewarded by my tight little hole sighing and sliding the intruder deep inside.
With the abrupt allowance I found both a bit of pain but more a rush of pleasure and many shudders, ripples of sex washing over me and over me. Riding the wave I grabbed my glass dildo, warmed under the hot water before I lied down, and relaxed myself even more to allow my hungry cunt to swallow its own happy penetrator.
Full completely in front and back I lied there. On one other occasion I’ve been doubly-filled and I found then, and found now, that the pressure from the rear makes it very difficult to move the unyielding glass dildo in and out pleasurably. I think if it weren’t my own cunt I’d be able to do it, but I wimped out, instead leaving the dildo buried deep inside me. With both hands I began to trip over and around my sensitive clit, stroking and twirling all the sensitive areas. And in my mind he was there.
He stood at my feet. He lay beside me on the bed, up on a shoulder to allow him to be over me. He controlled where my mind went but talking to me on and on, doing more to rise my fires than any sex toys ever could. In my mind I could hear his voice clearly running through all the ways that I am a very lucky slave. By his generosity alone I am allowed to keep the way I look, as we both know that he could request me to deck myself out as a slutty bimbo and I would. I would dye my hair a slutty blond and tattoo whorish makeup on my face and even get the breast implants that every porn start invests in. All to please him.
By his generosity alone I am allowed to keep my intelligence, as he has already in the past and could again, at his whim, turn my I.Q. down until adding single digits would be beyond me. I know how much he enjoys me giggly and dingy and flummoxed by the simplest mental challenges. When he has me in such a toy state his voice takes on the most insidiously condescending tone; the verbal equivalent of him patting me on my silly little head.
In my fantasy, as my fingers strummed my clit furiously, he continued to talk about how my life could be different if he were to change one little decision. How would I like to give up my job and my life? Find work more fitting a slutty, airheaded bimbo such as he might make me? In my mind I felt myself yearning for that other existence. We discussed the job opportunities that I could have once my pesky intelligence no longer plagued me. Something simple, safe and with plenty of constant fucking. Porn star. And as his smooth, warm voice poured down me and my fingers kept up their frontal assault; as I pictured myself vacantly doing anything and everything to please him with no pesky brains to get in the way, my climax finally made itself known, tumbling through my body.
It started as this gift a few nights ago, but it certainly didn’t end there…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Desperation
My Master had no way of knowing what he would be unleashing when he claimed me and opened me up. The day I gave him my control it had been over 10 years since last I’d cum for someone else. In that time I’d silenced my sex, submerged my passions, killed my desires out of a desperate self preservation. That which I’d decided I didn’t need I couldn’t therefore miss. My only release had become erotic fiction online, and even that pleasure was a darkly held secret that I was terrified would be found out.
I’d assured myself, and anyone else foolish enough to ask, that I was just fine without such indulgences in my life. The truth was I was dying. I’d relish those rare moments when I enjoyed the lingering touch of another, even though those were always platonic. I felt sealed off from the rest of the population. I felt encased in steel. I felt numb.
But now, though I’m so happy to enjoy contact again, I’m afraid Master has unleashed a beast that even he could not have foreseen.
I wake every morning with my Master on my mind. I imagine him over me, his strong hands pushing my wrists into my pillow and his evil grin dripping down into me. And I am wet. Constantly. For My Master I am slick between my legs always. I was bone dry for a decade and this is amazing to me because I’ve not had a single dry day since he found me. For months now my natural, constant state is damp panties and creamy cunt. I simply cannot get enough of him at any time. Even after all the months that I’ve been his the sound of his ring tone or the tiny hiss showing that he’s logged on to chat still give me butterflies like the first day he possessed me. And still, and always, and forever I am wet.
There was a time I worried that Master would grow tired of a slave who is always like an eager puppy, waiting for him to initiate play. I enjoyed the humiliation of being unable to control my lust, but knew that such constant pleading eyes and heavy voice could grow old after a while. But now I know that Master likes knowing he need never wonder if I am “in the mood.” I am his for the taking at any time, always three seconds from being his panting, moaning slut.
Just like a good slave should be.
I’d assured myself, and anyone else foolish enough to ask, that I was just fine without such indulgences in my life. The truth was I was dying. I’d relish those rare moments when I enjoyed the lingering touch of another, even though those were always platonic. I felt sealed off from the rest of the population. I felt encased in steel. I felt numb.
But now, though I’m so happy to enjoy contact again, I’m afraid Master has unleashed a beast that even he could not have foreseen.
I wake every morning with my Master on my mind. I imagine him over me, his strong hands pushing my wrists into my pillow and his evil grin dripping down into me. And I am wet. Constantly. For My Master I am slick between my legs always. I was bone dry for a decade and this is amazing to me because I’ve not had a single dry day since he found me. For months now my natural, constant state is damp panties and creamy cunt. I simply cannot get enough of him at any time. Even after all the months that I’ve been his the sound of his ring tone or the tiny hiss showing that he’s logged on to chat still give me butterflies like the first day he possessed me. And still, and always, and forever I am wet.
There was a time I worried that Master would grow tired of a slave who is always like an eager puppy, waiting for him to initiate play. I enjoyed the humiliation of being unable to control my lust, but knew that such constant pleading eyes and heavy voice could grow old after a while. But now I know that Master likes knowing he need never wonder if I am “in the mood.” I am his for the taking at any time, always three seconds from being his panting, moaning slut.
Just like a good slave should be.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Pushing the Envelope
“Go get your plug.”
I was surprised by this, though I shouldn’t have been. As we sat together I’d begun to get sleepy and this was the perfect way to wake me up. But I’d never trained while with Master before and the idea of him hearing the odd little squeals I make each time the plugs make it past my defenses… Still, off I ran to get all the pieces. I’m a good girl, after all.
I was still using a two-step process to get up to fitting in the large plug, and so I slathered the middle-sized plug with lube and forced it into my rear. As always I felt excited and dirty with such pressure at my behind. The feeling was even stronger knowing Master was listening. I’d shared a fantasy with him from earlier in our conversation and I felt bold as I smiled and asked him… “Should I see if the big plug fits in the front?”
“Yes.”
I took hold of the ring at the base of the big plug and began to slide it up and down over my slit. This was how I always got myself wet before penetration, and this was as effective as ever. Within a minute or two the smooth, black plug was slick up to its widest point. I was ready. I grabbed the base solidly and pushed right at my cunt. And pushed, and pushed. The plug slid in slowly, but fought me both because the plug was very wide and because I was already very full from behind. I’d managed to push it in to the widest point, but not yet beyond.
I worked my way slowly, pushing the plug in until the resistance was too much, and then a little beyond that point before giving relief. I pulled back, slid up and down a little, and then pushed again, this time further. Over and over I repeated the system until finally the biggest black plug of them all fell the rest of the way into its home, swallowed completely into my cunt.
There I sat, plugged at both ends. I loved the fullness, and the idea of double-penetration, but mostly I loved that at this moment more than any other I was doing this for him. Not just to make my body better for his visit in a few short weeks, but because he’d commanded me to do it. Because right at that moment he was listening to my moans and gasps and sighs as both my ass and my cunt were filled for his pleasure.
I lie there, my entire body humming a little at the feelings. My cunt twitched around the intruder and a wicked idea occurred to me.
“Can I fuck myself with the plug in my cunt?” I all but whispered, embarrassed and excited at the idea.
“You may.” He replied, adding “but watch the volume. Some of us are trying to sleep.”
In and out, in and out went the plug. I found it felt wonderful moving inside me, but was so big at its’ apex that it was distracting to the intense pleasure I’d built otherwise. So after a few minutes I instead slid it back in all the way, and I began to go to work on my sensitive clit. I flicked and stroked and rubbed as I felt myself overflowing with Master’s control and Master’s improvements. The sensation was fabulous. It took only a few minutes for me to climax all over the plug, ripples rocking me to my feet.
Now it was time to make the transfer. I rolled onto my side, jutting my packed ass out behind me, and pulled out the rear plug. I then allowed my cunt to push out the large plug , seeing that it was coated in my excitement. I rolled it around in the abundant muck in my slit until I was very sure it was entirely lubed in it, and then I pointed it at my rear and pushed.
I love the fact that my ass both wants so badly to keep all intruders out, and also that in that moment that this biggest plug overcame my asses’ defenses and pushed all the way in my butt, my entire body shuddered with pleasure and submission. My ass loves the moment where it is made to give in as much as I do. And knowing that my butt was now filled by a plug lubed only with my own cum was a feeling more than I could handle. I gasped out loud, much louder than I’d planned, and once more I came with a rush.
I sat for an hour, reveling in the fullness and the complete feeling of ownership and obedience. My cunt hummed from its wonderful domination, and my ass twitched over and over. And my Master slept, the sleep of a man who knows he is in complete and total control of another. All was right for the world.
I was surprised by this, though I shouldn’t have been. As we sat together I’d begun to get sleepy and this was the perfect way to wake me up. But I’d never trained while with Master before and the idea of him hearing the odd little squeals I make each time the plugs make it past my defenses… Still, off I ran to get all the pieces. I’m a good girl, after all.
I was still using a two-step process to get up to fitting in the large plug, and so I slathered the middle-sized plug with lube and forced it into my rear. As always I felt excited and dirty with such pressure at my behind. The feeling was even stronger knowing Master was listening. I’d shared a fantasy with him from earlier in our conversation and I felt bold as I smiled and asked him… “Should I see if the big plug fits in the front?”
“Yes.”
I took hold of the ring at the base of the big plug and began to slide it up and down over my slit. This was how I always got myself wet before penetration, and this was as effective as ever. Within a minute or two the smooth, black plug was slick up to its widest point. I was ready. I grabbed the base solidly and pushed right at my cunt. And pushed, and pushed. The plug slid in slowly, but fought me both because the plug was very wide and because I was already very full from behind. I’d managed to push it in to the widest point, but not yet beyond.
I worked my way slowly, pushing the plug in until the resistance was too much, and then a little beyond that point before giving relief. I pulled back, slid up and down a little, and then pushed again, this time further. Over and over I repeated the system until finally the biggest black plug of them all fell the rest of the way into its home, swallowed completely into my cunt.
There I sat, plugged at both ends. I loved the fullness, and the idea of double-penetration, but mostly I loved that at this moment more than any other I was doing this for him. Not just to make my body better for his visit in a few short weeks, but because he’d commanded me to do it. Because right at that moment he was listening to my moans and gasps and sighs as both my ass and my cunt were filled for his pleasure.
I lie there, my entire body humming a little at the feelings. My cunt twitched around the intruder and a wicked idea occurred to me.
“Can I fuck myself with the plug in my cunt?” I all but whispered, embarrassed and excited at the idea.
“You may.” He replied, adding “but watch the volume. Some of us are trying to sleep.”
In and out, in and out went the plug. I found it felt wonderful moving inside me, but was so big at its’ apex that it was distracting to the intense pleasure I’d built otherwise. So after a few minutes I instead slid it back in all the way, and I began to go to work on my sensitive clit. I flicked and stroked and rubbed as I felt myself overflowing with Master’s control and Master’s improvements. The sensation was fabulous. It took only a few minutes for me to climax all over the plug, ripples rocking me to my feet.
Now it was time to make the transfer. I rolled onto my side, jutting my packed ass out behind me, and pulled out the rear plug. I then allowed my cunt to push out the large plug , seeing that it was coated in my excitement. I rolled it around in the abundant muck in my slit until I was very sure it was entirely lubed in it, and then I pointed it at my rear and pushed.
I love the fact that my ass both wants so badly to keep all intruders out, and also that in that moment that this biggest plug overcame my asses’ defenses and pushed all the way in my butt, my entire body shuddered with pleasure and submission. My ass loves the moment where it is made to give in as much as I do. And knowing that my butt was now filled by a plug lubed only with my own cum was a feeling more than I could handle. I gasped out loud, much louder than I’d planned, and once more I came with a rush.
I sat for an hour, reveling in the fullness and the complete feeling of ownership and obedience. My cunt hummed from its wonderful domination, and my ass twitched over and over. And my Master slept, the sleep of a man who knows he is in complete and total control of another. All was right for the world.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Finally a Tough Challenge
Several weeks with the smallest ass plug deep inside me every day. After the first week I slept with it in my ass every night. I loved that it was so easy, so comfortable. I loved that my body was so very willing, even eager, to take on this task.
After a few weeks I decided there had been no challenge to this (apart from my last post's day of BIG challenge!), and that if I was going to stretch and push and change myself to please my Master I would have to, need to, move on. And so I happily pressed the next larger plug into my ass.
But to my surprise and pride I took this size easily as well. A little more pressure to push past the defenses, but otherwise an easy task. In less than a week I slept all night long with this plug deep inside as well. After a couple of nights I had one morning where I felt my muscles stretched as I walked, but only a little, and only a while. In the same way that I beamed from my success I also worried that I wasn’t making any difference, and therefore was not truly changing myself for my Master. More than anything this is my goal with each minute of training – to improve myself. To better myself. To become what he deserves, and if my training is too easy doesn’t it mean nothing is happening?
Worried and frustrated I moved myself up to the third, and largest plug of my training kit. I lay down on my bed, the toy glistening with lube, and I pressed the tip into my rosebud and pushed.
And pushed.
And pushed. And pushed. And winced, and grimaced, and whimpered. Finally after a few minutes I pulled away, giving my ass the break it needed. Simply put, my rear had finally put its foot down and said “no.” No, it was not willing to stretch enough to accept this newest, largest intrusion.
This proved to me that all the work I’d done so far had, indeed, been stretching my muscles to better accept my toys. I was once again proud of the work that I’d done. But now I faced my first possible failure. I tried again, concentrating on deep breaths and relaxing my muscles and all the tricks of the ass-stretching trade. And again my ass told me, in no uncertain terms, NO.
At last I accepted my limits, at least for the night, and set aside the large plug. But my ass would not be getting off scott-free! I grabbed my second size plug, lubed it up quickly and pressed it against my rear. The toy slid easily into my ass, as though there was room to spare. Never before had anything glided in so smoothly, and this told me that my butt had tried to accept the new size.
I slept happily filled by my plug, but the experience had given me an idea. On the next night I attacked the goal in a new way. First I slid the size 2 plug into my hole, enjoying the comfortable feeling for about half an hour. Once I knew I’d primed the area for the new challenge I lubed the larger plug. I removed number two, and while my muscles were still stretched and pliable I pushed number three against my rosebud, unwilling to fail this time!
My ass is as eager to please my Master as I am, and with such inspiration I relished the moment as my tight muscles resisted and argued and clenched, and then finally gave up and allowed the largest toy to take its place inside me.
This was fullness.
I lie on the bed, unable to think of anything but the sensation of being completely full. This plug finally challenged me, making my muscles spasm and twitch in a constant attempt to rid itself of the intrusion. But I relaxed and enjoyed the fullness. I enjoyed this feeling unlike any I’d had. I enjoyed feeling full and changed and stretched. So very stretched. I closed my eyes and imagined my Master standing beside me, smiling, pleased with my desire to serve him. An hour later I allowed my rear to finally empty again. From then on I've continued this process. I have two-stepped it, like the first night, but my goal by the end of first week was for my ass will take plug number three without any prompting. Sadly this was also a bridge too far, but one I will continue to work for. Once I accomplish this goal it will prove to me that my muscles have finally stretched to better accept anything with which my Master wishes to fill me.
That will be a proud moment for me.
After a few weeks I decided there had been no challenge to this (apart from my last post's day of BIG challenge!), and that if I was going to stretch and push and change myself to please my Master I would have to, need to, move on. And so I happily pressed the next larger plug into my ass.
But to my surprise and pride I took this size easily as well. A little more pressure to push past the defenses, but otherwise an easy task. In less than a week I slept all night long with this plug deep inside as well. After a couple of nights I had one morning where I felt my muscles stretched as I walked, but only a little, and only a while. In the same way that I beamed from my success I also worried that I wasn’t making any difference, and therefore was not truly changing myself for my Master. More than anything this is my goal with each minute of training – to improve myself. To better myself. To become what he deserves, and if my training is too easy doesn’t it mean nothing is happening?
Worried and frustrated I moved myself up to the third, and largest plug of my training kit. I lay down on my bed, the toy glistening with lube, and I pressed the tip into my rosebud and pushed.
And pushed.
And pushed. And pushed. And winced, and grimaced, and whimpered. Finally after a few minutes I pulled away, giving my ass the break it needed. Simply put, my rear had finally put its foot down and said “no.” No, it was not willing to stretch enough to accept this newest, largest intrusion.
This proved to me that all the work I’d done so far had, indeed, been stretching my muscles to better accept my toys. I was once again proud of the work that I’d done. But now I faced my first possible failure. I tried again, concentrating on deep breaths and relaxing my muscles and all the tricks of the ass-stretching trade. And again my ass told me, in no uncertain terms, NO.
At last I accepted my limits, at least for the night, and set aside the large plug. But my ass would not be getting off scott-free! I grabbed my second size plug, lubed it up quickly and pressed it against my rear. The toy slid easily into my ass, as though there was room to spare. Never before had anything glided in so smoothly, and this told me that my butt had tried to accept the new size.
I slept happily filled by my plug, but the experience had given me an idea. On the next night I attacked the goal in a new way. First I slid the size 2 plug into my hole, enjoying the comfortable feeling for about half an hour. Once I knew I’d primed the area for the new challenge I lubed the larger plug. I removed number two, and while my muscles were still stretched and pliable I pushed number three against my rosebud, unwilling to fail this time!
My ass is as eager to please my Master as I am, and with such inspiration I relished the moment as my tight muscles resisted and argued and clenched, and then finally gave up and allowed the largest toy to take its place inside me.
This was fullness.
I lie on the bed, unable to think of anything but the sensation of being completely full. This plug finally challenged me, making my muscles spasm and twitch in a constant attempt to rid itself of the intrusion. But I relaxed and enjoyed the fullness. I enjoyed this feeling unlike any I’d had. I enjoyed feeling full and changed and stretched. So very stretched. I closed my eyes and imagined my Master standing beside me, smiling, pleased with my desire to serve him. An hour later I allowed my rear to finally empty again. From then on I've continued this process. I have two-stepped it, like the first night, but my goal by the end of first week was for my ass will take plug number three without any prompting. Sadly this was also a bridge too far, but one I will continue to work for. Once I accomplish this goal it will prove to me that my muscles have finally stretched to better accept anything with which my Master wishes to fill me.
That will be a proud moment for me.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Ass Training - my First Challenge
The first, smallest butt plug surprised me when it slid into my tight little rosebud with nary a complaint. I’d been nervous about this exercise and worried that I wouldn’t be able to improve myself for my Master, but there I was with my ass filled for his pleasure. I repeated it every night for the first week, and at the first weekend I was practically smug with how well I had done.
My Master sounded pleased, to be sure, and in that way that he does he allowed himself to think almost out loud. His thoughts culminated with a pleased-sounding “hmmmm…"
“What?” I asked. I knew that “hmmmm…” and often such things were opportunities for me to please him even more. And I can never get enough of such opportunities.
“Well, I was thinking of something, but I’d say its too soon.” He was smiling as he said it, and I took the bait like a prize-winning fish.
“Why? What is it?”
“I have a new task for you,” he smirked over the line, “but it would mean speeding up the process.” I should have considered those words longer, given that at that point I’d only just completed a week of training. But in my mind I was sure I knew his thoughts, and I’d already had the same ones. Rather than waiting another week I would go ahead and jump to the next size of ass plug next week. I was sure I could do it, and in fact was eager to feel myself, my ass, stretching to better myself for his pleasure. So with very little thought I eagerly replied.
“Ok.”
“Ok what?” was his careful response.
“Ok let’s speed up.” I smiled myself this time and I knew he heard it. My ego was about to get me into just a little bit of trouble again.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving me one last opportunity that I honestly didn’t deserve to reconsider. “Once I tell you there’s no turning back; you’d have to take the challenge.” And of course didn’t take the chance given me.
“I’m sure. What’s the task?”
“On Monday I want you to wear the ass plug to work. All day.”
This was not what I was expecting. I was sure we were talking larger. Not longer. I’d not even kept it in the entire night, so the idea of all day was… daunting. If not a little scary. But I’d asked, and had received my challenge. I knew I’d have no option to reconsider at this point, so I would have to follow through. And though I was scared, I was also excited at such a lofty goal. And I was thrilled at the idea of amusing him. I knew he loved the idea of my working all day long, my mind never off of the tremendous fullness in my ass simply to please him.
On Saturday night I kept the plug in almost all night long; four hours at least I knew. Again my ass happily took the intrusion, and in fact I’d begun to notice pleasure centers in and around my rear. Each time I shoved the plug deep into myself I had a shudder of intense pleasure for a few minutes following. I didn’t know if it was actual, physical pleasure or simply enjoyment of being invaded only to improve myself. And I didn’t really care.
Sunday night as I spoke to him he asked if I was nervous about the next day. I had been thinking about it all day long and confessed to some nerves. This confession only pleased him more. He told me he knew that I’d make him proud; that he had faith in me. So overjoyed was I by his praise I now couldn’t wait for the next morning, when I would fill myself for him. And so it was that 6am the next morning, as the little, black intruder pushed its way into my ass and settled in for the day, that I felt such a rush of excitement and pleasure as to almost cum.
Each step that day was a constant reminder of him. As I sat at my desk I struggled to think about my work, instead fixated on the never ending pressure from the waist down. The experience overloaded my senses and by lunchtime I was incredibly damp between my legs. I went home for lunch, having been given permission by Master to remove it and add more lube. I allowed my tight little hole a rest while I ate my lunch, but when the food was gone I forced myself onto my back, my knees up over my head and my little anal intruder back into its home. As it slid in the second time for that day my rear took it even more readily. In fact, it slid in smoothly, with little of the normal resistance. And once again I was rewarded with a strong ripple throughout my system, bordering on an orgasm.
I had also realized somewhere during my day that I had a business dinner to attend that night. I spoke to Master about how I would be coming home between work and the dinner to be able to talk to him a while, as well as to remove the plug.
“Oh, but what fun would that be?” he asked, that now-familiar smile still in his voice. I assumed that he was kidding, never thinking he would want me to extend my challenge so far. But as I joked back he made himself more clear. “You are to wear the plug through dinner as well, slave.” As is so often the case in these moments I stuttered some kind of resistance while simultaneously loving this sound of his wicked smile and the idea of pleasing him.
The plug stayed with me as I sat at the table of co-workers, making idle chit-chat and privately marveling at what they had no idea about.
That night I was not required to train my ass. As I came home I changed into pj’s and finally removed the plug. My well-worked behind let out its own sigh of relief as it was finally freed from the visitor. Making it that much more surprising the next day at work when I became aware of a new feeling: I missed the plug. My empty ass seemed sad and unchallenged after a day of being to put to work for the sole purpose of amusing its Master. When I trained that night it was a relief to be filled once again. As it is always a relief to be allowed to prove to Master he made the right choice by claiming me oh so many months ago.
My Master sounded pleased, to be sure, and in that way that he does he allowed himself to think almost out loud. His thoughts culminated with a pleased-sounding “hmmmm…"
“What?” I asked. I knew that “hmmmm…” and often such things were opportunities for me to please him even more. And I can never get enough of such opportunities.
“Well, I was thinking of something, but I’d say its too soon.” He was smiling as he said it, and I took the bait like a prize-winning fish.
“Why? What is it?”
“I have a new task for you,” he smirked over the line, “but it would mean speeding up the process.” I should have considered those words longer, given that at that point I’d only just completed a week of training. But in my mind I was sure I knew his thoughts, and I’d already had the same ones. Rather than waiting another week I would go ahead and jump to the next size of ass plug next week. I was sure I could do it, and in fact was eager to feel myself, my ass, stretching to better myself for his pleasure. So with very little thought I eagerly replied.
“Ok.”
“Ok what?” was his careful response.
“Ok let’s speed up.” I smiled myself this time and I knew he heard it. My ego was about to get me into just a little bit of trouble again.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving me one last opportunity that I honestly didn’t deserve to reconsider. “Once I tell you there’s no turning back; you’d have to take the challenge.” And of course didn’t take the chance given me.
“I’m sure. What’s the task?”
“On Monday I want you to wear the ass plug to work. All day.”
This was not what I was expecting. I was sure we were talking larger. Not longer. I’d not even kept it in the entire night, so the idea of all day was… daunting. If not a little scary. But I’d asked, and had received my challenge. I knew I’d have no option to reconsider at this point, so I would have to follow through. And though I was scared, I was also excited at such a lofty goal. And I was thrilled at the idea of amusing him. I knew he loved the idea of my working all day long, my mind never off of the tremendous fullness in my ass simply to please him.
On Saturday night I kept the plug in almost all night long; four hours at least I knew. Again my ass happily took the intrusion, and in fact I’d begun to notice pleasure centers in and around my rear. Each time I shoved the plug deep into myself I had a shudder of intense pleasure for a few minutes following. I didn’t know if it was actual, physical pleasure or simply enjoyment of being invaded only to improve myself. And I didn’t really care.
Sunday night as I spoke to him he asked if I was nervous about the next day. I had been thinking about it all day long and confessed to some nerves. This confession only pleased him more. He told me he knew that I’d make him proud; that he had faith in me. So overjoyed was I by his praise I now couldn’t wait for the next morning, when I would fill myself for him. And so it was that 6am the next morning, as the little, black intruder pushed its way into my ass and settled in for the day, that I felt such a rush of excitement and pleasure as to almost cum.
Each step that day was a constant reminder of him. As I sat at my desk I struggled to think about my work, instead fixated on the never ending pressure from the waist down. The experience overloaded my senses and by lunchtime I was incredibly damp between my legs. I went home for lunch, having been given permission by Master to remove it and add more lube. I allowed my tight little hole a rest while I ate my lunch, but when the food was gone I forced myself onto my back, my knees up over my head and my little anal intruder back into its home. As it slid in the second time for that day my rear took it even more readily. In fact, it slid in smoothly, with little of the normal resistance. And once again I was rewarded with a strong ripple throughout my system, bordering on an orgasm.
I had also realized somewhere during my day that I had a business dinner to attend that night. I spoke to Master about how I would be coming home between work and the dinner to be able to talk to him a while, as well as to remove the plug.
“Oh, but what fun would that be?” he asked, that now-familiar smile still in his voice. I assumed that he was kidding, never thinking he would want me to extend my challenge so far. But as I joked back he made himself more clear. “You are to wear the plug through dinner as well, slave.” As is so often the case in these moments I stuttered some kind of resistance while simultaneously loving this sound of his wicked smile and the idea of pleasing him.
The plug stayed with me as I sat at the table of co-workers, making idle chit-chat and privately marveling at what they had no idea about.
That night I was not required to train my ass. As I came home I changed into pj’s and finally removed the plug. My well-worked behind let out its own sigh of relief as it was finally freed from the visitor. Making it that much more surprising the next day at work when I became aware of a new feeling: I missed the plug. My empty ass seemed sad and unchallenged after a day of being to put to work for the sole purpose of amusing its Master. When I trained that night it was a relief to be filled once again. As it is always a relief to be allowed to prove to Master he made the right choice by claiming me oh so many months ago.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Proper Drinking Etiquette for a Pet
Living this life is not an easy thing really. Like most good things, it takes energy and effort and work. Also like most good things, there are times when life is too much to get through to allow for such energy and effort and work. For Master and I, these times in life tend to manifest themselves in him getting distracted and me getting tetchy. I do not take the adult tack of telling him that I’m feeling neglected, but instead I pull on the leash. I pull very, very hard.
Recently Master and I had a period like this. His life required more and more effort, and though I knew this to be true some little part of me couldn’t resist pulling anyway. I began to mock him, calling him a “big softy” each time he allowed me to resist or misbehave without discipline. The interactions were light and airy, but we both understood somewhere that each time I was allowed to get away with these moments it slightly altered our dynamic. I knew those changes weren’t what I wanted, but without knowing for sure what Master wanted for us I simply continued to pull and yank and strain that leash.
At last Master had had enough. He and I first discussed life of late and we both agreed that things had been hectic, leading to a relaxing of the rules. We both reiterated that we wanted to keep our dynamic in its original form, and that we would both work to maintain it. I was relieved that he also still wanted to keep me, to stay my owner and Master, and I foolishly thought that was that. But Master was not quite finished.
We had another moment of my pulling on the leash, probably a moment of my subconsciously testing the resolve that we’d both just voiced, and it seemed to me that once again I’d gotten away with it. At the moment I thought very little of it, but found that I was thirsty, so asked for permission to go get a drink which I was granted. It was not until the moment that I pulled my hair back in one hand and lowered my face into the dog bowl full of Pepsi that I realized what I was even doing.
I drank deeply from the soda covering the bottom two inches of the big, black plastic dog dish. I’d purchased the bowl months before but had rarely ever used it other than as additional food for my cats when I’d been on travel. Now I slurped my beverage down from within it like a fucking pet.
I carried the bowl back and put it on the coffee table beside the laptop, asking my Master “so where are we going with this?” He feigned ignorance for a moment, but once I was forced to specifically state what it was I’d done I heard that wide smile cross his features as he replied “guess you’ll have to see.”
For the next two nights I drank every beverage from this dish. With each time my face lowered below the walls of the bowl I found myself excited by the humiliation of the task. It was clear the message he was delivering to me: pull on the leash and I will treat you like the little bitch that you are for me. Not to mention “do not forget who is the Master and who is the Pet.” And that was what I felt like each moment I lapped drink up from the bowl: his humble, obedient pet. Doing as I had been commanded to do because in all things he was the final decision.
I had to learn how to do it without getting my drink up my nose, and soon became very adept at keep my hair out of the wet or staining my chest with the liquid dripping from my chin. In fact, by the second night it wasn’t just easier. It was…
It was comfortable.
I felt myself get incredibly wet as I realized that I’d begun to enjoy this. I enjoyed the feeling of him controlling me, and of him reiterating my status as his pet. I fantasized about being on hands and knees beside him, he sitting in his comfortable leather chair as his pet laps up her drink from her dog bowl on the floor. I imagined his hand stroking down my head and back as I slurped away, reminding me that I am his to do with as he pleases.
On the third night, freed from the requirement, I told him how it had become much easier over time. “Good.” He replied. “It will make it that much easier when you spend a week drinking from the bowl when I’m there.”
Though I wanted to resist and challenge the idea, and did ask him if he was kidding (which he would neither admit nor deny), truth be told the idea thrilled me. It still does. And so does he.
Recently Master and I had a period like this. His life required more and more effort, and though I knew this to be true some little part of me couldn’t resist pulling anyway. I began to mock him, calling him a “big softy” each time he allowed me to resist or misbehave without discipline. The interactions were light and airy, but we both understood somewhere that each time I was allowed to get away with these moments it slightly altered our dynamic. I knew those changes weren’t what I wanted, but without knowing for sure what Master wanted for us I simply continued to pull and yank and strain that leash.
At last Master had had enough. He and I first discussed life of late and we both agreed that things had been hectic, leading to a relaxing of the rules. We both reiterated that we wanted to keep our dynamic in its original form, and that we would both work to maintain it. I was relieved that he also still wanted to keep me, to stay my owner and Master, and I foolishly thought that was that. But Master was not quite finished.
We had another moment of my pulling on the leash, probably a moment of my subconsciously testing the resolve that we’d both just voiced, and it seemed to me that once again I’d gotten away with it. At the moment I thought very little of it, but found that I was thirsty, so asked for permission to go get a drink which I was granted. It was not until the moment that I pulled my hair back in one hand and lowered my face into the dog bowl full of Pepsi that I realized what I was even doing.
I drank deeply from the soda covering the bottom two inches of the big, black plastic dog dish. I’d purchased the bowl months before but had rarely ever used it other than as additional food for my cats when I’d been on travel. Now I slurped my beverage down from within it like a fucking pet.
I carried the bowl back and put it on the coffee table beside the laptop, asking my Master “so where are we going with this?” He feigned ignorance for a moment, but once I was forced to specifically state what it was I’d done I heard that wide smile cross his features as he replied “guess you’ll have to see.”
For the next two nights I drank every beverage from this dish. With each time my face lowered below the walls of the bowl I found myself excited by the humiliation of the task. It was clear the message he was delivering to me: pull on the leash and I will treat you like the little bitch that you are for me. Not to mention “do not forget who is the Master and who is the Pet.” And that was what I felt like each moment I lapped drink up from the bowl: his humble, obedient pet. Doing as I had been commanded to do because in all things he was the final decision.
I had to learn how to do it without getting my drink up my nose, and soon became very adept at keep my hair out of the wet or staining my chest with the liquid dripping from my chin. In fact, by the second night it wasn’t just easier. It was…
It was comfortable.
I felt myself get incredibly wet as I realized that I’d begun to enjoy this. I enjoyed the feeling of him controlling me, and of him reiterating my status as his pet. I fantasized about being on hands and knees beside him, he sitting in his comfortable leather chair as his pet laps up her drink from her dog bowl on the floor. I imagined his hand stroking down my head and back as I slurped away, reminding me that I am his to do with as he pleases.
On the third night, freed from the requirement, I told him how it had become much easier over time. “Good.” He replied. “It will make it that much easier when you spend a week drinking from the bowl when I’m there.”
Though I wanted to resist and challenge the idea, and did ask him if he was kidding (which he would neither admit nor deny), truth be told the idea thrilled me. It still does. And so does he.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Youth is Wasted on the Young and Mindless
“I’ve got a game I’m considering playing; I’m just working out the details…” These words sent more than shivers down my spine. Still, I tried to be stoic. I stared intensely at my left big toe, making it out as fascinating as possible. Focus on my toe, unfortunately didn’t keep me from asking.
“What kind of game?” I had never seen a big toe so fascinating. Up until his evil laugh poured into my ears.
“Let me first ask you this: did anything bad happen to you when you were 18?” I didn’t understand the question, but considered the answer. The few late teen traumas I’d ever had were later than that, so I gave the go ahead. Master then explained that he was going to take me back to my eighteenth year, to play with a younger me and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t bump into the day my parents divorced or that time my best friend ran over my cat. Even when playing with me my Master looks out for me.
Only after the game was finished would I somewhat remember the scenario that Master set forth for me. I danced through his play on the end of his strings, but a tiny bit of the true me sat deep in the back of my mind enjoying the show.
I woke and I was 18 years old. I remembered being at the shopping mall a few days prior, and being approached by a man who told me he was a professional photographer. He’d given me his card and told me that I could be a model; that I should call him if I wanted to learn more. As I sat in this office I still could not believe that I’d actually called him; that I thought I’d really be able to be a model. I shook my head to clear out the fog and there he sat beside me.
As we talked he assured me that I would be a terrific model, asking what kind of shoots I’d be interested in. High fashion was not me, but maybe things more normal, more… average? He mentioned many different options, but then told me that today I’d just be shooting a “portfolio”. And let’s get started. And like that I stood before his camera and his bright, hot light.
He asked me to smile for the camera and I explained that I can’t do fake smiles. The first shot brought a bright “FLASH” and I relaxed. And smiled a little brighter. Another “FLASH” and I beamed the wide, eager smile he told me to give him. Next he asked for a laugh and I explained my limitations again. Yet with each new “FLASH” of the light I found myself following his instructions. Such as to give the camera a sexy pout. Something I do not do. Until after a few more flashes I pouted for him.
And a few more had me changing my top. And removing my top. And with flashes he had me slide out of my jeans, standing before him in panties and the beaming smile he coaxed from me. Those flashes melted my resolve, my restraint, my… control. The control to keep from removing even those panties. I spread my legs and arched my back and smiled as his camera kept documenting his total domination over me.
“Now, get down on your knees.” He instructed matter of factly, never giving any indication that the directions he gave me were beyond those of any other photo shoot. I never stopped to question as he had my hand stroke my clit, even as poor, innocent, virginal 18-yr old me began to drip down inside her thighs. He stepped to me, continuing to shoot pictures and flash that light; the light that burned away my options. Standing before my panting form he told me to open my mouth. He pulled out his cock, its form hovering before me, and told me to suck it. And for the first time I pushed back.
“FLASH!” “Suck my cock” I knew this request was not quite right. I’d only ever done it once before, and this man was a stranger. But still… ‘FLASH! “Suck my cock” his huge member filled my mouth completely, but his words assured me it was perfectly right and I moved my mouth down on to him per his command. He assured me that I loved to suck his cock and with a flash or two I knew he was right. He told me to look up at the camera as each bright, new ‘FLASH’ cemented his control over me and captured the image of my slurping him down.
Time passed as I obediently, eagerly slid my tongue around his cock. With his thorough and steady programming, supported by the effect of the flash, I had come to love this and desperately wanted to please him. As his cock surged he ordered me to take it in my hands and pump it, aiming at my face. Each jet of hot, salty cum landed on my face and I smiled for him still. He made me love the feel of his stain on me. And I loved it completely.
He handed me my clothing and we discussed my future modeling career options, specifically in the area of porn, where he was sure I would be most happy and successful. I allowed this happy idea to mold into my mind, shifting from horror to pleasure. And with a final beaming smile he brought me back to myself and the present.
As I remembered this adventure and the ways that he took me and changed me I felt even more wetness coat the inside of my thighs. Master and I discussed the feelings his game brought to me, and before I knew it we returned to the game, to what he called ‘Act Two” My young self lie on her bed, just having cum from her own fingers, and the phone was ringing. Each new word from this dangerous, unescapable photographer slid me where he wanted me to be – inviting him to my home for our next photo shoot. As I waited his arrival I struggled with what to wear, finally deciding on a blue skirt and tank top, with panties but no bra.
In no time he had arrived, looking around my home with satisfaction. This time he moved to his goal quickly, my weak mind already primed to the idea of following his instructions. We moved to the bedroom, where he asked why I dressed as I did. I explained the thoughts that had flitted through my head, and when I mentioned the panties he asked to see them. And then for me to be free of them. And the tank top as well.
His flashes once again dissolved my resistance, slowly reducing me to an obedient puppet. I lied down in each position he suggested, and somewhere I noticed that my private parts were slick. When I was 18 years old I’d never had sex and barely had experiences to pull from. I spread my legs wide for him, no longer a fear in my universe about the pictures he kept snapping of my almost naked body.
Per his instruction I’d pulled myself up to my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder at him and his flashing light, when I noticed the drops sliding fast down my legs. “I’m so wet between my legs” I whimpered, not used to such physical reactions to a person.
“I have a solution for that.” He replied, then commanding me to stay in my position on the bed. As I felt his body come up behind me on the bed, still flashing shot after shot, I sensed something was happening. I considered fleeing the feeling of his manhood sliding across my delicates, but I stayed as he’d not allowed me to move. Even as he pushed into me, filling me completely, I could not resist him. In fact the sensations conquered my sanity. I asked if he would be having sex with me, and he corrected me.
“Fucking.” He said to me. “It’s called fucking.” I wanted to resist this idea, but his flashes assured that I understood he was fucking me. I meekly asked my question again, correctly this time. “Are you fucking me?” I whimpered. He assured me he was, and that I loved it. And I did. He began to program me with simple, strong ideas.
“You want to fuck me.”
“I want to fuck you.”
“You need to fuck me.”
“I need to fuck you.”
Methodically he built on these ideas, the flashes of his camera crushing any resistance and I came to want and need this fucking more and more. But still the internal conflicts of the young, just-virginal me tried to push forward through his fog. I panted and struggled to get out the words vexing me as his cock filled and filled and filled me. “This…” I stammered, “this seems…” I could not make the words come out, so embarrassed was I by the idea. At last I said “This doesn’t make me a slut?” I could hear his smile immediately.
“You are a slut.” I resisted through the next flash but that was all. “You are my slut.”
“I am your slut.”
“You want to be a slut”
“I want to be a slut.”
“You want to be my slut.”
“I want to be your slut.” The words slid past any and all obstacles, molding me as his happy, horny slut. But he was far from finished.
“You want to be my slave.”
“I want to be your slave.”
“You need to be my slave.”
“I need to be your slave.”
On and on he remade the young me into the mirror image of his present day slave, enjoying the pleasure of once again stripping me of my independence. I desperately wanted to cum, but sensed I couldn’t make that step without his permission. Finally he pulled out of me and commanded.
“Kneel beside the bed before me.” I moved as if his words were my thoughts, looking up at him from my kneeling position in seconds. “What are you?”
As if the words had been scripted for me I answered easily. “I am your slave.”
“And who am I?”
Pleasure rocked through me each time I reiterated my new universe for him. “You are my master.”
“Until when?”
“Forever.” I beamed, joyful in my permanence. “I am yours forever, Master.” My smile was all consuming, and he rewarded me and my obedience and submission.
“Cum.”
This, my new first orgasm, shattered me completely. I cried out and moaned and writhed before him, overwhelmed by this new experience. At last he brought me back to myself and the present, and allowed me to relive the experience.
My true first orgasm was a fine, vanilla moment in my life. But for me this will always be my favorite first orgasm.
“What kind of game?” I had never seen a big toe so fascinating. Up until his evil laugh poured into my ears.
“Let me first ask you this: did anything bad happen to you when you were 18?” I didn’t understand the question, but considered the answer. The few late teen traumas I’d ever had were later than that, so I gave the go ahead. Master then explained that he was going to take me back to my eighteenth year, to play with a younger me and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t bump into the day my parents divorced or that time my best friend ran over my cat. Even when playing with me my Master looks out for me.
Only after the game was finished would I somewhat remember the scenario that Master set forth for me. I danced through his play on the end of his strings, but a tiny bit of the true me sat deep in the back of my mind enjoying the show.
I woke and I was 18 years old. I remembered being at the shopping mall a few days prior, and being approached by a man who told me he was a professional photographer. He’d given me his card and told me that I could be a model; that I should call him if I wanted to learn more. As I sat in this office I still could not believe that I’d actually called him; that I thought I’d really be able to be a model. I shook my head to clear out the fog and there he sat beside me.
As we talked he assured me that I would be a terrific model, asking what kind of shoots I’d be interested in. High fashion was not me, but maybe things more normal, more… average? He mentioned many different options, but then told me that today I’d just be shooting a “portfolio”. And let’s get started. And like that I stood before his camera and his bright, hot light.
He asked me to smile for the camera and I explained that I can’t do fake smiles. The first shot brought a bright “FLASH” and I relaxed. And smiled a little brighter. Another “FLASH” and I beamed the wide, eager smile he told me to give him. Next he asked for a laugh and I explained my limitations again. Yet with each new “FLASH” of the light I found myself following his instructions. Such as to give the camera a sexy pout. Something I do not do. Until after a few more flashes I pouted for him.
And a few more had me changing my top. And removing my top. And with flashes he had me slide out of my jeans, standing before him in panties and the beaming smile he coaxed from me. Those flashes melted my resolve, my restraint, my… control. The control to keep from removing even those panties. I spread my legs and arched my back and smiled as his camera kept documenting his total domination over me.
“Now, get down on your knees.” He instructed matter of factly, never giving any indication that the directions he gave me were beyond those of any other photo shoot. I never stopped to question as he had my hand stroke my clit, even as poor, innocent, virginal 18-yr old me began to drip down inside her thighs. He stepped to me, continuing to shoot pictures and flash that light; the light that burned away my options. Standing before my panting form he told me to open my mouth. He pulled out his cock, its form hovering before me, and told me to suck it. And for the first time I pushed back.
“FLASH!” “Suck my cock” I knew this request was not quite right. I’d only ever done it once before, and this man was a stranger. But still… ‘FLASH! “Suck my cock” his huge member filled my mouth completely, but his words assured me it was perfectly right and I moved my mouth down on to him per his command. He assured me that I loved to suck his cock and with a flash or two I knew he was right. He told me to look up at the camera as each bright, new ‘FLASH’ cemented his control over me and captured the image of my slurping him down.
Time passed as I obediently, eagerly slid my tongue around his cock. With his thorough and steady programming, supported by the effect of the flash, I had come to love this and desperately wanted to please him. As his cock surged he ordered me to take it in my hands and pump it, aiming at my face. Each jet of hot, salty cum landed on my face and I smiled for him still. He made me love the feel of his stain on me. And I loved it completely.
He handed me my clothing and we discussed my future modeling career options, specifically in the area of porn, where he was sure I would be most happy and successful. I allowed this happy idea to mold into my mind, shifting from horror to pleasure. And with a final beaming smile he brought me back to myself and the present.
As I remembered this adventure and the ways that he took me and changed me I felt even more wetness coat the inside of my thighs. Master and I discussed the feelings his game brought to me, and before I knew it we returned to the game, to what he called ‘Act Two” My young self lie on her bed, just having cum from her own fingers, and the phone was ringing. Each new word from this dangerous, unescapable photographer slid me where he wanted me to be – inviting him to my home for our next photo shoot. As I waited his arrival I struggled with what to wear, finally deciding on a blue skirt and tank top, with panties but no bra.
In no time he had arrived, looking around my home with satisfaction. This time he moved to his goal quickly, my weak mind already primed to the idea of following his instructions. We moved to the bedroom, where he asked why I dressed as I did. I explained the thoughts that had flitted through my head, and when I mentioned the panties he asked to see them. And then for me to be free of them. And the tank top as well.
His flashes once again dissolved my resistance, slowly reducing me to an obedient puppet. I lied down in each position he suggested, and somewhere I noticed that my private parts were slick. When I was 18 years old I’d never had sex and barely had experiences to pull from. I spread my legs wide for him, no longer a fear in my universe about the pictures he kept snapping of my almost naked body.
Per his instruction I’d pulled myself up to my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder at him and his flashing light, when I noticed the drops sliding fast down my legs. “I’m so wet between my legs” I whimpered, not used to such physical reactions to a person.
“I have a solution for that.” He replied, then commanding me to stay in my position on the bed. As I felt his body come up behind me on the bed, still flashing shot after shot, I sensed something was happening. I considered fleeing the feeling of his manhood sliding across my delicates, but I stayed as he’d not allowed me to move. Even as he pushed into me, filling me completely, I could not resist him. In fact the sensations conquered my sanity. I asked if he would be having sex with me, and he corrected me.
“Fucking.” He said to me. “It’s called fucking.” I wanted to resist this idea, but his flashes assured that I understood he was fucking me. I meekly asked my question again, correctly this time. “Are you fucking me?” I whimpered. He assured me he was, and that I loved it. And I did. He began to program me with simple, strong ideas.
“You want to fuck me.”
“I want to fuck you.”
“You need to fuck me.”
“I need to fuck you.”
Methodically he built on these ideas, the flashes of his camera crushing any resistance and I came to want and need this fucking more and more. But still the internal conflicts of the young, just-virginal me tried to push forward through his fog. I panted and struggled to get out the words vexing me as his cock filled and filled and filled me. “This…” I stammered, “this seems…” I could not make the words come out, so embarrassed was I by the idea. At last I said “This doesn’t make me a slut?” I could hear his smile immediately.
“You are a slut.” I resisted through the next flash but that was all. “You are my slut.”
“I am your slut.”
“You want to be a slut”
“I want to be a slut.”
“You want to be my slut.”
“I want to be your slut.” The words slid past any and all obstacles, molding me as his happy, horny slut. But he was far from finished.
“You want to be my slave.”
“I want to be your slave.”
“You need to be my slave.”
“I need to be your slave.”
On and on he remade the young me into the mirror image of his present day slave, enjoying the pleasure of once again stripping me of my independence. I desperately wanted to cum, but sensed I couldn’t make that step without his permission. Finally he pulled out of me and commanded.
“Kneel beside the bed before me.” I moved as if his words were my thoughts, looking up at him from my kneeling position in seconds. “What are you?”
As if the words had been scripted for me I answered easily. “I am your slave.”
“And who am I?”
Pleasure rocked through me each time I reiterated my new universe for him. “You are my master.”
“Until when?”
“Forever.” I beamed, joyful in my permanence. “I am yours forever, Master.” My smile was all consuming, and he rewarded me and my obedience and submission.
“Cum.”
This, my new first orgasm, shattered me completely. I cried out and moaned and writhed before him, overwhelmed by this new experience. At last he brought me back to myself and the present, and allowed me to relive the experience.
My true first orgasm was a fine, vanilla moment in my life. But for me this will always be my favorite first orgasm.
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