To Sir With Lust Ch. 03

November 4, 1998

Sir,

Last night you asked me to disassociate my conscious self from my body; you wanted me to, in essence, watch myself, observe and describe my reactions as you play with me. It was your desire to learn more about what arouses me, what makes my breath quicken, my pulse race, straightens my spine, raises the hair on the back of my neck.

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I begin with the anticipation I feel when I know you will be home soon. I’ve never told you, but I fret when you’re late, concerned that some ill might have befallen you. I know that you probably enjoying yourself with friends, amusing yourself with another toy, or someone who is not a bottom; while this would disappoint me, it is nothing compared to the agony I would feel if something untoward happened to you.

When I hear the sound of your car’s engine in the driveway, my heart begins to pound, and I race through the house so that I will be ready to open the door for you as I hear your footsteps approaching. Flushed and just a little breathless, I offer you a drink and an appetizer to curb your hunger until you are ready for your dinner.

You study me as I stand in front of you, ready to do your bidding. I’ve left my hair down this evening, held back with a white satin ribbon. I’ve chosen to wear a 1950's-style hostess apron. It’s made of sheer white organza with a bib which barely covers my nipples, both the top and the bottom of the apron are trimmed with a lacey ruffle. The apron ties in the back, a large puffy bow rests just above my ass. I’ve also selected a white satin garter belt, sheer white seamed silk stockings and a pair of white satin mules.

“Bring the hairbrush to me,” is your first order this evening. Hurrying to your room, I retrieve the antique tortoiseshell brush from your dresser. I stand silently before you as you sit in your armchair, listening to the classical music playing on the stereo. After a moment, you extend your hand and I give you the hairbrush, which you set on the table next to you.

At your nod, I curl up at the foot of your chair, awaiting your next command. I relish the feel of your fingertips in my hair, brushing against my scalp, and combing through the length of my tresses. Your hand lightly brushes my face, caressing it, and the touch sends shivers down my spine. I long to be able to rub my face against your palm and fingertips, but I do not lest I disturb you.

After several long minutes of silence, you pull me up to you, settling me into your lap, my buttocks nestling against the beginning of an erection. My head rests against your shoulder, my legs draped over the arm of the chair and crossed at the ankles, hands in my lap. I feel the caress of your lips at my temple and I feel your teeth as they lightly press into the tender flesh of my earlobes. They’re small gestures, but I feel the butterflies in my stomach take flight nonetheless.

After a moment, your begin to stroke me with your right hand. It travels along my neck, to the center of my throat, then slowly slides down the center of my chest, your fingers resting in the cleavage of my breasts. Your hand then cups my left breast, your thumb passing back and forth over the nipple, which hardens immediately. You tug at the ring, twisting it, making my clit jump.

All of these movements are slow and deliberate. The expression on your face is one of intense concentration. It takes me a few minutes, but I realize that you’re studying me as if seeing me for the first time; examining my body and my reactions to your touch in much the same way that you did when my previous owner offered to sell me to you.

I try to suppress it, but I am already becoming aroused. I desperately want to arch my back, to press my breast more firmly into your hand, to brush my nipple against your palm. Both of my nipples have hardened, and I can feel my clit begin to throb between my thighs. I force myself to relax, knowing that the longer I do so, the sweeter my reward will be--when and if you allow me to climax.

You cup the back of my head with your right hand and bring my face to yours, lowering your mouth on mine for a kiss, sweet at first, then becoming more passionate as it continues. Your tongue begins to explore my mouth, tasting me, sucking on my tongue. I relish your kisses, Sir, the soft touch of your moist lips brushing against mine, the taste of you, I wait for your saliva to flow into my mouth, I time my breathing so that I can inhale as you exhale, all in an effort to absorb you, absorb your essence, to combine it with my own. I feel the play of your fingertips against the small of my back and I tremble with desire for you, my skin covered with goose bumps.

To my disappointment, you end our kiss. Your hand skims over my torso and seems to hesitate just above my mound, your fingers barely touching me, teasing me. Once again, I have to fight not to push myself against your fingers. I am so hungry to have you penetrate me--with your fingers, your tongue, your cock, or any erotic tool of your choosing--that it is all I can do to remain in my relaxed, compliant posture. I know from experience that if I look too eager, you will continue to withhold from me that which I crave.

Your fingers slide into my pussy abruptly--I am jolted by this sudden invasion and it takes a split second for me to adjust to your fingers thrusting inside of me, opening me. I feel you grasp my clit, pinching and twisting it, causing me to gasp, even as I begin to writhe in . . . is it pain or pleasure? You have some difficulty in keeping your fingers on my clit--my lubrication has spread over your fingers, over the lips of my pussy, and I’m almost too slippery for you to grasp. You give me a knowing look as I involuntarily push myself against your hand. I try to glance away so that you don’t see the pleasure reflected in my eyes, but I’m too late. You already know I’m aroused.

Your hand slides a little further between my thighs and I feel your middle finger pushing against my sphincter and into my ass. It is with the greatest restraint that I continue to relax, but as my muscles grip your finger, enveloping it, I feel my pussy begin to throb. In spite of my efforts to remain docile, passively accepting your exploration of my body, I close my eyes and exhale with a ragged sigh, ending in a soft moan.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. You flip me over so that I’m draped face down over your lap. Your left hand caresses my ass and I sense, rather than see, you pick up the antique hairbrush from the side table. I tense in anticipation of the first blow, but it does not come. I feel nothing but the soft caress of your hand. I continue to brace myself, but am only aware of the sensuous stroke of your palm gliding over my naked backside, relaxing me. In spite of myself, I relax. Immediately, I feel the sting of the brush against my upturned bottom, followed by a second blow, then a third, a fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh . . . and then I lose count, aware only of the pain burning my derriere.

My earlier efforts at self-control are abandoned as I writhe against you, trying to escape the blows. You wield the brush expertly, purposely not establishing a rhythm and thereby not allowing me to anticipate your next blow. After a few minutes, the pain is so great that I start to cry, quietly, knowing that if you hear me, you will continue the spanking indefinitely.

Slowly, I realize that the pain is giving way to a perverse pleasure. My pussy is throbbing and my ass is reaching up as if to meet the hairbrush as it descends. The warmth of my flesh has served to relax me and I am beginning to crave the stinging slap against my backside. Recognizing my behavior, you quietly set the brush down and begin to spank me with your bare hand. It’s a powerfully erotic gesture: the sting of your hand which gives way to a caress as your hand lingers briefly on my reddened ass, stroking it as if to erase the pain. Through my tears I become aware of my engorged pussy throbbing almost convulsively; my clit is distended, peeking out from its tiny hood. In spite of the pain and my humiliating posture--no, because of it--I’m on the brink of an orgasm.

No sooner do I realize this than my release comes. I cry out as my pussy, disappointingly empty, convulses and churns. My clitoris throbs almost painfully, and I buck against you so violently that I almost fall from your lap. Your arms encircle me, not allowing me to fall, and you hold me until the spasms subside.

Abruptly, though, you slide me off of your lap, back onto my knees, facing you. “Show your gratitude, my pet,” you command.

Reaching up, I unfasten and unzip your trousers, drawing your erection toward my lips. Pausing briefly, I caress it with my cheek, feeling its stiffness and its heat against the side of my face. My cheek is immediately streaked with your pre-come. I press my lips against first one side of your cock, then the other. It’s not a kiss, rather a simple caress of my lips.

I start to lick your cock, from the base up the length of your shaft, up and down. I lick you over and over, each stroke of my tongue overlapping the one before. You put your hand on the back of my head as if to pull me forward a bit and I know what you want. I wrap my lips around the head of your cock and allow my tongue to swirl around the corona, first in one direction, then the other. My lips tighten around your erection and I slowly lower my head, my mouth seeming to swallow you. My lips descend the length of your cock until I feel the mushroom-shaped head nudging the back of my throat. As I relax, I feel your cock plunge down my throat. My tongue works furiously against the underside of your cock, you can feel the rough texture at the root of my tongue as it scours that sweet spot just under the head of your prick. I suck you harder, my cheeks pulled around the sides of your erection, my lips brushing against the curls at the base, my nose delivering Eskimo kisses to your crotch, my lips stretched around you as I pleasure you.

Without making a sound, you suddenly grab the sides of my head with both hands, pushing me down even farther on your cock. Normally, I would draw this out, playing our unspoken game, seeing how long I can service you before you give in to your climax. Tonight, however, you’re intent on flooding my mouth with your jism. I taste the first salty spurts and, knowing that you enjoy watching, I lean back slightly and open my mouth, catching every shot of your come while letting you see my mouth being filled with your ejaculate and flowing over my lower lip.

When you orgasm has subsided, I gently close my mouth around your still firm cock and swallow the present that you’ve given me. My mouth is still around you, soft, my tongue still caressing you, gently now, as I feel the last spasms fade away.

We stay there for a few minutes, you still sitting in your chair, pelvis thrust forward, leaning back; me, kneeling, nestled between your legs, my cheek resting against one thigh, your cock still in my mouth. I feel a stinging between my legs and I realize that I’ve become aroused once again while you were fucking my mouth. My pussy is swollen and awash with my juices. I know that the minute I move away from you, you’ll be able to smell the evidence of my arousal, you’ll also see my stiffened nipples and the sexual flush that must be covering my body.

I feel the brush handle stroke my cheek. Looking up at you, I am startled by the animalistic expression on your face.

“Take this,” is your only comment as you hand me the brush. “Now, go sit on the hassock. I want you to entertain me for a while, my pet.”

I crawl to the ottoman and sit on it, wincing as the cold leather presses into my still warm ass cheeks. Hairbrush in hand, I slowly begin to stroke the bristles down the length of my hair, my face turned away from you slightly. After a moment, I turn to face you, my eyes looking demurely into yours, and I let the bristles graze first my right nipple, then my left. I tease myself with the brush, moving it from side to side, allowing the brush to tug on the little gold ring glinting in my left nipple.

I continue to brush my hair, using longer strokes now. I allow the brush to glide from the ends of my hair to my belly, then lower. Anticipating your command, I spread my legs, displaying my aroused cunt for you. I know that the lips have flushed to a deep rose, and I can visualize my naked mound, covered with my juices, pearls of moisture collecting at the lips of my pussy.

Arching my spine so that my breasts point toward the ceiling, my hair thrown over my shoulders so as not to obstruct your view, I start to fuck myself with the hairbrush. Initially, I let the brush graze over the pinkened skin of my mound. As my pussy begins to throb, I turn the brush around in my hand and start to tease myself with the handle. First, I brush it against my clit, wiggling against it. Eventually, I begin to slide the handle into my sex, moving it against my G-spot. As I plunge the handle into my body, my pussy rides against it, muscles gripping the antique handle, my thighs spread wantonly so that you can watch me as I pleasure myself. My left hand starts to play with my tits, which are trembling from my efforts as I masturbate myself with the hairbrush. I pinch my nipples, feeling the electric shocks traveling from breast to cunt, causing my torso to buck and to shudder.

Eyes shut, I’m lost in my pleasure, and I am jolted by the sudden weight of your body against mine. You take the brush from my hand and push me, supine, against the hassock. Your turgid cock invades my pussy, stretching and filling me in a single stroke. I feel your teeth as they bite and pinch my nipples, setting my pussy on fire once again.

With your left arm around me, you pull me over to my side. I feel your right hand, holding the brush, slide the handle of the brush against my asshole. Still slick with my juices, it penetrates the tiny opening easily.

Still holding me, you fuck me violently, penetrating me with your shaft and the hairbrush; your cock slides into my pussy as you withdraw the brush from my nether hole, then you plunge the brush into my ass until I can feel the bristles pricking my skin as you extract your cock from my steaming cunt. You pull at the nipple ring with your tongue and your teeth. The sensations travel from my breast, through my belly and into my throbbing clit. I start to buck and lurch against the tools, one of flesh and one of wood, churning in and out of my body.

I feel the rumblings of a second orgasm slowly building deep in my belly. Involuntarily I stiffen, my back arching, as my pussy and my ass tighten around the instruments of pleasure which have invaded me. I feel my muscles constrict, almost cramp, as they contract; looking into your eyes I can feel you willing me over the precipice, I see my nakedness through your eyes, and I gasp as I feel the stinging slap of your hand against my naked buttock.

“Come!” is your only command.

. . . and I hear no more as I give myself over to my orgasm. My body shudders, my breathing grows irregular and labored, the muscles of my pussy contract around your hard cock, churning, squeezing, clutching, grasping, milking you; my swollen and sensitive clit, throbbing, pulsating in time with my pussy, erupting with an almost electric shock every time your cock brushes against it, body heaving, convulsing, and you continue to fuck me, to fuck me, to fuck me; your cock plowing into my pussy with unbelievable speed and force, the room is spinning, colors like a kaleidoscope blur before my eyes, I'm splintering, shattering into a million pieces, ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod--don't stop, Sir, please don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop . . .

As my orgasm levels out, I can feel your cock swell within me, the speed of your thrusts suddenly increases. I look up into your eyes and I see that you're about to go over the edge. I start to murmur into your ear. "Come for me, Sir. Come on. Come for me. You know that I want to feel you shoot deep into my pussy. Sir, give it to me. Give it up. Come on, baby, fill me with your seed, you know I want it.

My hand finds your swollen cock, my thumb and finger wrap around the base of your erection, squeezing you, stroking you, simulating the movement of my pussy, moving up and down the base of your shaft, up and down, up and down, fingers squeezing, pussy squeezing, my body returning your thrusts.

I hear your moans begin, signaling the beginning of your orgasm. Your back stiffens, your body momentarily stilled, and then thrusts into me with renewed vigor. I can feel your hard cock throbbing inside of me as you start to shot your seed into my hungry pussy. I hear your voice, low and animalistic as a primal growl rumbles from deep within and your voice trails off, ending in a gasp as you surrender to the torrent of sexual energy that crashes over your body; you continue to pound into me, filling my pussy with your semen, I'm filled by you, filled with you, overflowing with the evidence of your passion . . .

You collapse on top of me, into my waiting arms. Completely spent, we can barely move, barely breathe. I hide my face against your neck, kissing you, tasting your sweat. Your cock, still hard, remains sheathed in my pussy, which is still contracting around you. You finally catch your breath, lift your head from my shoulder and kiss my lips. Smiling down at me, you rain tender kisses over my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, my temples, my closed eyelids, my chin and then back to my lips.