“Now look at yourself.” His low voice commands me.
The intimacy of the situation is absolute – if a little difficult to specifically define. I sit motionless, a picture indeed. Long dark hair flows over my shoulders framing my face, normally alabaster pale, it is now flushed crisis. Deep green eyes clash garishly with my newly acquired skintone above a mouth full with lust, lips slightly parted, moist and wanton, shamelessly advertising the other pair that I own. My blush continues along my neck and across my throat, lighting me up from within. Small firm breasts tilt youngly upwards, nipples prominent, sweetly aching beneath silver clamps, bound by a delicate chain. They rise and fall with my laboured breathing, silver catching the low light as I obediently analyze my reflection. Lower, past the flat of my belly sits a black thong, gusset pushed aside as I touch myself, fingertips hidden from view inside my bare cunt. My legs are spread wide as I knee before my mirror, submitting to my Sir as instructed.
My back arches as the first blow from a wooden spoon hits my backside. The jolt of pain ricochets through my swollen clip. A low moan escapes me, greeted by a sardonic chuckle from Sir. Spurred on, my hand moves faster across my soaking cunt but this is anticipated.
“Slow down on that clip of yours. In fact, remove your hand.” His hypnotic voice asses, opinions and then instructs, cascading through my soul, my deepest, darkest inner self, my most base desires. The wooden spoon strikes violently across my backside, punctuating my every nuance of thought, each blow more forceful than the last as we both became fevered. He tells me to pick up the 8 inch vibrator on the floor beside me. It’s thick at the base, ridged and tapers a little before Flaring at the tip into an angled head, designed to hit the G-spot. Made of black silicane, it has been in the freezer prior to our session and is now dewed with condensation. I gaze at it before placing it at the entrance to my pussy, not touching yet, teasing myself with the imminent cold.
“Rub it along your cuntlips.” He says. “Just gently run it up and down.” I obey instantly, gasping at the cold, moaning at the sudden rush of juice from me. I part my legs a little wider and deliberately press the chilled head of the vibe against my labia, moving up around the hood and down the other side.
“Push it inside you now. All the way in.” Sir says. The sensing is incredible, ice and liquid fire. I throw my head back and press my hips down onto the vibe as I shove it inside me, hard, fast and deep. I look back at the mirror, remembering my instructions. The image it throws back at me is intensely provocative. My hair is wild, a thick curl hanging in front of my face. My mouth is open and two burning nipples point accusingly back at me, my hand holding the base of the vibe is shining with my juice. I reveal in what He’s done to me, reduced me to, free my weighted spirit to soar above my head. He speaks again.
“Fuck the vibe, hard.” I moan and comply, slamming down onto it, hips bucking, hand thrusting in response.
“That’s it… now faster. REALLY fuck it.” I gain velocity, fucking it, fucking Him, fucking everything He does to me, all that we mine from each other’s black hole of need. My moans become guttural, animal. I am quickly drenched in sweat, pounding my cunt with the vibe for His pleasure.
“What do you look like right now?” He sneers. I respond immediately.
“I look like a slut.”
“And you like that don’t you?” I can just tell from the pitch of His voice that He’s touching Himself. It turns me on immeasurably.”
“Yes… I do.”
“Does my little fuckslut want to cum?”
“Always” I reply, still fucking the vibe
“Not yet. Don’t you dare slow down.” He commands.
“Pull on those nipple clamps.” I pull the chain between them down till my aching nipples strain painfully, flooding my cunt as my back arches again. I force myself not to cum.
“Now remove them for me.” He knows what this does to me. Slowly I open the first clamp. Blood rushes back into my nipple with a rush, sering the nerve endings and making me cry out with the excruciating rush. Endorphine kicks in behind it. I can feel myself falling over the edge into climax. With Herculean effort I haul my senses back.
“Good girl, now the other one.” He says, His own arousal betrayed by the tone of His voice. “Don’t lose that pace now. Keep on fucking that vibe, bitch.” I open the other clamp and remove it, welcome the force of sensing as the second nipple recovers, hardwired to my clip, screaming in ecstasy. I’m beginning to tire now, running on adrenaline as I work to follow Sir’s every instruction.
“Turn that vibrator on, full speed. Fuck it like the slut you know damn well you are, fuck it as though it were My cock.” His voice is a growl now, dripping with menace, with power. I twist the base of the vibe rEat round and nearly collapse. My cunt is so wet and sensitive. I’m so ready to cum, head back, back arched, legs braced, drawn tight as a bowstring. All it’ll take is a word and He knows it. I desperately need to touch my raging clip and daren’t. How long will He have me continue like this?
“You need to cum now… and you will. Why will you be cumming? Tell me.” Even Though I can’t see Him I know from His voice that He’s close too.
“Because you’ve opened my soul, breathed into me everything I truly am, penetrated my darkest thoughts.” I reply, speaking from the heart, from the cunt at least.
“Who are you cumming for?”
“For You… I am cumming for You.” I gasp.
“Are you?”
“May I Sir?”
“Yes you may.”
My fingers breeze across my clip, more than stimulation enough at this point, throwing me over the edge of sensing into a thundering climax, ripping through me. My back arches further as I shove the vibe all the way home, moaning and convulsing and squirting white hot juice all over it, covering my hand and wetting the floor beneath me. I ride it out, feeling the waves break over me, wanting it never to end even as it starts to subside, shuddering out of me, escaping and leaving me bereft again.
“Fuck yess, that’s my fuckslut.” He climaxes, groaning and spurting into His hand, “Fuck you, you little bitch.” He growls affectionately. I smile. “Better?” He asks.
“Much, thank you Sir.”
“Good, I have to go now.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Fuck off then.” He laughs.
I reach out to hit the speakerphone button, before hanging up.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, an utter fucking mess.
I smile.
I have never met this man, have very limited, censored knowledge About His life and alternate persona. He has a whole other self that I only half believe in. Every time we speak, email, text, I’m confronted with the total absence of him. Yet, in the total absence of a real-life significant other, He completes me; pops up on my radar at will to temporarily soothe the ache inside my wanton, cock-starved soul. He has learned me, my body, my responses, my needs and desires – as I have studied Him in return. Now, He penetrates me with a word, a softly grown command, compelling me to discuss subjects and perform acts that nobody of my real-life acquaintance would ever in their wildest wet dreams acuse me of. He knows the very essence of me like no-one else right now, rendering physical proximity almost superfluous… almost.
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