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16 June 2007, 00:20
(I'm having the hardest time getting this post started. I'm all kinds of rusty at writing smut. Not that we haven't had any, but it seems I deviated away from writing about it. We'll see how it goes.)
One of my other bedtime rules is to ask Master if He wants a blow job. It goes water, foot rub, lights, strip, collar and chain, blow job. You know how they always say that children need a soothing bedtime routine to facilitate a good night's rest? Well, Master took that to heart and created His own ultra-soothing bedtime ritual, Domly-style.
I also have to ask if He wants a blow job in the morning before He'll unlock me. I guess His answers between 'yes' and 'no thanks, cunt' are about 50/50. When He says no too many times in a row, it frustrates me. Not because I necessarily have this burning desire to give a blow job(again), but because the repetition of asking when the answer remains a negative begins to feel like too much rejection. It starts to mess with my head and my fragile self-esteem. (Though I wouldn't say I have fragile self-esteem until I have to face repeated rejection head on. Funny, huh?)
But then I think that if I tell Him how I'm feeling and how the rejection is beginning to affect me, He'll start saying yes when He doesn't even want to say yes, and Bam-o! I'm topping from the bottom. Or He's giving me a 'pity-suck' (or pity-fuck, pity-scene, pity-spanking, pity-whatever). I'll begin to question His motives, and as soon as I think He's doing it (whatever it may be) to please *me*, it's a downward spiral from there.
How do you accurately communicate how you feel without dropping into thinking that He's then only catering to your feelings? We submissives are a complicated lot, aren't we?
Anyway... back to the smut. I really can do this. :)
He locked me in last night and I did ask if He'd like a blow job. And He said no thanks.
But I wanted to give one.
I'm not restricted from touching Him or from initiating sexual activities like some slaves are. But that creates just another dilemma in my head (because I'm difficult like that). I'm not, typically, a forceful person, nor do I think it's becoming of a slave to hear "no thanks" and then say "Well, too bad. You're getting one and You'll like it!"
And, what if, god forbid, I DO initiate it and He swats me away? The double-rejection might terminally wound me. (only slightly joking there.)
He was reading His book as He does most every night and I was lying quietly next to Him, staring over His body at the television. Right on the edge of my vision is His cock. It's just lying there against His thigh, obedient, still. And I.Wanted.It.
So I slid my hand a little closer to it. I didn't touch it! Not yet. I just.. got closer. And closer.
It's scary! Who knew I could be so shy? I'm half waiting for Him to bark out at me something like "Just what the hell do you think you are doing? Didn't I already say NO?!" and, my God, I would die a thousand deaths. I don't know how many times I've chicken out of making that first move even though I know without a doubt that even if He really didn't want it, He'd not destroy me with how He declined. I *know* this, yet, always, I hold my breath and make these tippy-toe finger walks toward His cock and wait, expect, to be slapped down.
I eventually did work up the courage to touch Him, brushing against His cock and feeling, with immense relief, that He'd already begun responding to my feathery sneak-attack, His cock thickening just a bit. But it was the moan He let slip out when I finally took Him into my fist that really encouraged me. Completely spontaneous, His eyes and mind still on the novel He was reading, He groaned appreciatively, and then lifted His hips just slightly toward me.
Just that quick, all of my doubts are gone. Hesitant no more, I said, "Yes You do!", belatedly answering His refusal of my blow job offer some moments before. He chuckled, still reading, and turned toward me, allowing me easier access to His crotch. I stroked Him with my hand until He reached full status before sliding down between His legs and pulling Him into my mouth.
The blow job didn't last long. Bolstered by this "success" at being aggressive, I soon climbed up His body, straddling Him, and easily, wetly, sliding myself down His cock.
Being on top was never one of my favorite positions. My legs are short and I can't move very well. It's like, when I get up on my knees, as high as I can go while straddling Him, He's still almost all the way in. So my attempts at "bouncing" were comedic at best. Sometimes He'll prop my knees up on pillows which gives me a few more inches of height so I am actually pumping Him as I move. Otherwise, yeah, it's kind of funny.
Mostly though, I didn't like it because I couldn't orgasm in that position. So, bah humbug, who likes to fuck and not come? But Master rarely, rarely, doesn't make sure I have come several times. The few times He has fucked me without letting me come, it was only to prove that He could. (why oh why do we issue these kinds of challenges to men like ours? "Oh oh! I bet You can't fuck me until You come without me coming. Betcha!" I'm *such* a dumbass.)
He has this thing that He does when I'm on top that sends me over the edge every time. He pulls my nipples together, which adds in an intense amount of pinching and pulling. So far so good, right? But then He sucks them both into His mouth and does... well I don't know what the fuck He's doing! Sucking and biting and nibbling on both of my nipples while simultaneously pinching and pulling them off AND fucking me from underneath. It's sensation overload from every direction.
It melts me, literally. Into incoherent, can't move, can't do anything but bask in eyerolling orgasmic puddle of mush slavegirl. When He's doing it, if I could talk, I'd be begging Him to stop and as soon as He stops all I want is for Him to do it AGAIN. Jesus, it feels good.
So I'm on top, in this supposed "dominant fucking position", trembling from orgasm abundance, unable to move because I had no pillows under my knees, marveling (as I'm prone to do) at what a wonderful fucker He is (I like saying that. "He's a wonderful fucker" *snicker*) and thinking that I could happily roll over and die now, when He suddenly thrusts up so hard under me that I'm almost bucked over His head into the wall. How deeply He drove up into me, with my weight, unrestrained, pressing back against Him, startled me into a pain-fueled climax that made the previous 8 million pale in comparison.
There is little that He likes more than to have me gaze at Him in wide-eyed orgasm-shock.
It makes Him giggle. He's adorable when He giggles. He's the only man I have ever met who can giggle and *still* be Domly Manly Man.
I don't remember all of the details after that. I know He flipped me over and fucked me before yanking me up and emptying Himself into my mouth. I know that He gets all strutty and cocky and His head (the one on His shoulders) swells when He looks at me lying on the bed, because I'm chained there and can't move, but also can't move because I'm still catching my breath and my eyes are glassy and I'm sweaty and gazing at Him with God-like adoration because He fucks me like the whore I've always wanted to be.
He can strut. He can gloat. He's good and He knows it.
And He's all mine. Don't think I'm not strutting right behind Him. ;)
~cunt
Smut
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