Fed up with writing and stressed about trying to please all and everyone in her life she takes her baoding balls for a daily meditation and gently rotates them in her skilled hands. After years she can move them without clashing together. Today is one of those days that she feels tight and desperately seeks ways to relax. The chimes that come from the balls and the deep concentration relax her some.
After a while she lays the balls on the side to mail her Master. Opening her mailbox she notices a link to a short track of a movie sent by her Master. A Master forces a lovely tied up girl into an orgasm. The girl lays on her back and her legs wide in a spreader bar. Her nipples are fastened with small strings to the spreader bar as well and her own movements pull her breasts. She is being forced into orgasm after orgasm. The lovely moans and squeaks of her voice as she cums again and again arouses her immensely and she watches a few times hearing her so close in her headphones as if the girl was in the room with her.
The feel of her body changes when she seeks relief after what she saw. With the balls in her hand she walks to the bathroom and pushes them in her vagina, easy does it, nice and slippery and plays with herself in front of the mirror. The electric toothbrush as a vibrator on her clit takes her right op the moon and she cums delightfully, when suddenly the doorbell rings. Quickly she washes hands and pulls her jeans up and runs down hearing in the distance the bells chime with every step down.
The doorbell rings again and when she opens the door a delivery van is parked in front of her house, the driver hands her a package, which she gracefully accepts for the neighbours. When the dog brushes against her legs, she knows it is time to go for a walk. Amused and feeling relaxed she decides to go, chiming balls and all. When she picks up the leash, the dog wags her tail happy and with a grin she wags her butt and walks out of the door for an afternoon walk. Enjoying the stroll: her filled pussy and the happy dog. Feeling ever so naughty as she greets fellow dog owners on her path. Actually the whole walk is arousing her deeply again. Especially when she realises it must look funny, her unusual small steps.
Finally home she notices the neighbours are back and offers the package to them and when she returns to her frontdoor she realizes that she left the keys on the side table. There, her situation becomes vividly real. And when she climbs over the fence of her back garden, one of the balls slips out making an uncomfortable bulge in her crotch. She blushes deeply when the neighbour peeks out and asks if she is fine where she has to admit she left the keys in her house. Her head spins, the ball in her pants, the blush on her cheeks and deep very deep inside her the whole situation is very arousing. Would he see it? She walks even more awkwardly to the backdoor. How she wishes her Master had been there to help her out, but than she grins because he probably would roar with laughter. She feels the backdoor and fortunately she forgot to lock it. She slips quickly back in, runs upstairs for some more stress relief.
The sensation of figging
She stands, her legs slightly apart her hands on her back and breasts pushed forward. He kisses her gently on her lips. The tip of His tongue seeks hers, making a twirly dance of saliva and tongue. Holding her in His arms, He smiles and ties a scarf as a blindfold over her eyes.
‘I have a surprise for you my slave.’
She feels His warm breath and a kiss in her neck. A soft sigh passes her lips as her body fills with the anxiety of what might come.
She hears Him doing things but has no idea what will happen. The sound is unfamiliar for her and in the pitch dark she stands quietly but her mind runs fast. Her deep breaths make her breasts heave with every inhalation. She is wet with anticipation until suddenly she feels His hands gently around her arms as he guides her to the bed.
‘Present your arse slave!’
On her knees lifting her butt up and her head down she waits as she hears Him walking around again. It feels like an eternity while she gently rubs her cheek against the fabric of the covers. Even though she is used to kneel like this every time it will make her very horny. She feels how the muscles in her pussy contract in reaction. Fingers touch her butt right up to the rose of flesh in the centre. A finger enters. Her moans fill the room.
Than, for her at least, out of nowhere a plug is placed and she feels how her anus clenches due to the effect. She grabs the covers and pushes her head down as if she is nailed to the bed. Moaning softly as she takes the pain in. Is it pain? No it burns! It burns like hell. The knuckles on her fingers white, her toes curled up. Nowhere to go, she is just nailed on the bed by a mere plug up her arse. In the distance she hears Him:
‘Are You ok my slave, my lovely little slut?’
She answers in a deep dark moan:
Her moans are muffled as she bites the sheet. Now and than she feels how the plug is patted, making her moans loud. With a gentle gesture He places His hand on her butt. After a while she gently floats on the clouds of pain and lust as gradually that burning sensation looses its initial power. He removes the plug and takes her in His arms, lies beside her on the bed. She buries her head in His arms, always safe.
(the practicalities of figging and other homemade simple tools to use click d.i.y )
(the practicalities of figging and other homemade simple tools to use click d.i.y )
in the dark
And now that I am wakening from my deep sleep I wonder if I am truly awake, because when I open my eyes it is pitch-dark. I feel the covers with my hands, my naked body, the edge of the bed, but I see nothing other than a deep blackness that surrounds me. I keep my eyes wide open to catch the little light that might be in the room but I see nothing, absolutely nothing. I touch my face and feel the scrapes on my back. When I sit upright I suddenly throw my legs over the edge of the bed just to feel if there is a floor. I touch the wall behind the bed. All this is still very disorientating. I step out of bed and I trace the wall with my finger to where I remember the door was. Little steps as I am scared to fall I seek in memory the interior of the room. Bed, wall a corner in the room and there should be the door. I feel its post and find the door handle. But to my shock the door is locked. I stand in this stygian world and hear my breathing getting shallow of anxiety. My fingers are holding on to the handle as if my last beacon in this world. I feel cold but it isn’t cold.
I try to recuperate in my memory. The last thing I know before falling asleep is my Master gently pulling the covers over me.
‘Sleep well, my thing.’ Were the last words he had said to me.
All I could do is nod and tired as I was in subspace and recovering from the scene we just had done. It was intense and he had treated my back with salve and carefully laid me in this lovely soft bed. After a father like kiss on my cheek I heard him walk away and close the door behind him. The last sounds being his footsteps in the hallway.
Slowly I puff through my lips to calm down and seek my way back to bed. I wrap myself in the covers for comfort and lay still to think. ‘I can trust my Master, can I!?’ A little doubt enters my mind. I bite my lip and pull the covers over my mouth trying to breath calmly. In my head I sing a mantra: ‘I can trust my Master, I can trust my Master.’ It calms me. I will wait until I hear his footsteps again. As I relax my ears seem to take in every sound. Is that my own scent? Is it his? But suddenly I am aware of another sound. I am not sure if I am right but it sounds like the regular breathing of a person. ‘Is it true’ I wonder and I keep myself very, very quiet to be certain of what I hear and to my deep shock I realise there is someone in the room!
Now I breathe soundless trying to make sure where the sound comes from, I have no clue if it is close to me. But than I feel how a hand locks itself around my ankle. I try to retreat my foot, but I am not strong enough and I struggle in shock. Would I dare to bend forward? No. I am spooked and hold on to one of the big posts of the bed. What the hell?
After a few seconds when I feel I am not going to be hysterical I come to terms with the hand around the ankle. It comes to mind that master might have locked me in and I relax my feet. What ever it is, the power and strength is more than I can deal with. All I can do is give in and simply allow without struggling to the attaching of my cuff to one of the posts. I am not even surprised when also the other leg is attached and the duvet is taken away. I submit when both my hands are tied to the other posts at the head of the bed. Why don’t I speak? The silence, the darkness, all feels rather saintly, feeding my imagination.
I feel a sharp thing travelling my body. Is it a knife? It circles my belly, around my breasts and scratches the aureole and softly pats the upright nipple when found. With all my power I do try to see anything but the effort is useless. Now the knife wanders down again. A hand caressing my legs searching and finding as they travel my inner thigh that soft vulnerable part of me and I am shocked how the knife traces the shaven folds.
Suddenly he hits my vulnerable spot with his full hand. He keeps on hitting me in a steady rhythm. I grasp the shackles and moan of pain. It feels hot and swollen after the hitting has stopped and I know it tinges bright red now. It hurts. It hurts so badly it is wonderful.
Lips on mine, a cheek against mine: Yes I am sure now it is my Master and I smile lovingly. I hear a Zippo and suddenly I see in the dim light his face. A loving smile as he lights the candle and glances at me as the drips of the wax make a pattern on my skin. First around me breasts and covering them in wax, tracing down and he doesn’t stop.
The hot drops dripping continuously on my skin. Lighting candle after candle and placing candles and gradually the room is lit with that wonderful soft light only candlelight offers. Occasionally he kisses my lips.
He stops when I am almost fully covered in wax. I see the candles with all kinds of bright colours; I smell that lovely scent of wax and fire. I have become a colourful Jackson Pollock. He kisses me and whispers in my ear: ‘This is my idea of a full wax!’
I am so happy! I feel hot and I am hot and I even manage to smile.
(thank you pyroman)
(thank you pyroman)
Cold as Ice
There she lays naked on a huge king-size bed, her body stretched relaxed as she breathes regularly and calmly. Her breasts slightly moving and her nipples gently sway like little flowers in the wind. Her long hair spread over her pillow, now and than she softly sighs, as if she experiences something in her sleepy world. Her legs are slightly apart showing her femininity as a rose; the inner lips as beautiful petals. Her flower is closed.
On a little distance a man is seated in an easy chair. His eyes roam her body and a smile appears on his face. The view of the body on the bed is like a landscape with curvy hills and secret cavities a place to wander around and enjoy. It is like a piece of art, a living piece of art. On the other end of the room the doors to the balcony are open and the lace curtains are whipped up in the wind. The air in the room is fresh and pleasant. The dawn is visible as the sky is coloured a pinkish yellow and leaves a sensitive glow on the girl’s body. The sun is rising, colouring her body in the pale colours of dawn. More and more visible are red stripes that can be seen on her butt, back and legs. Her breasts are also marked with light red stripes. The girl is marked and the man is enjoying the marks. These are his autographs.
He had been sitting there for a while, like a hawk on his nest making sure she is all right. This price possession should be protected at all times. His hand travels on his body. It reaches his lower body and weighs his half erected manhood in his hand, cleaned last night at his order. Silently he stands and closes his bathrobe and walks quietly out of the room to return a little later holding in his hand a bucket with tinkling ice within.
He is a big man but very gently he places the mass of his body on the bed and takes a large icicle out. It has the size of a huge cock. He hangs it above her lips and little drops of ice-cold water drips on her lips. A slight smile appears as he sees her tongue wiping her wet lips dry at first. Just that little moment before she actually wakes up and realises the cold.
When she opens her eyes, he notices how she fights to wake up, how her brain tries to understand what is happening. Slowly he lowers the icicle and touches her lips. She licks it, gently suckling it as a shiver runs through her body. He makes a pattern down and follows a trail over her chin and neck to her breasts, teasing her nipples, which harden by the cold touch. A wet trail; like a snail wandering over the curvy landscape of her body. Goosebumps covers skin. She trembles of the cold little trickles of water running down on the sheet.
The icicle is placed back in the bucket and he attaches her wrists with shackles on the posts of the bed. The cold steel chains jangling as she moves and adjusts. A big soft towel is placed underneath her body. After a while he lifts her legs and he ties each leg together above the knee so that her rose and her lovely aperture below it are fully in sight for him. Not a word has been uttered between them. Just her sighs moans and his gentle grinning can be heard. She knows better not to talk to Him in the mood he is in. Slight shivers still go through her body. With every action he checks upon her looking in her eyes. Reassuring her with a gentle smile.
Taking a few steps away form the bed he grins as she lays there totally vulnerable and for him to please and play with. He raises wickedly his eyebrow and picks the icicle and gently runs a trail form between her breasts slowly down, teasing the petals and the swollen stigma of her rose. She gasps for air and the chains tinkle like ice cubicles. When he teases her more she wriggles her toes and moves her feet. Drops of icy water go down making her aperture cringe. He teases her moving it around and very gently pushing it in. Her moans are loud as he slowly pushes the icicle into her. Suddenly he opens his bathrobe and enters her juicy, slippery rose. Rocking her legs and holding on to the icicle he takes her looking into her eyes, seeing how she drifts away on a cloud. He knows she has lost her focus on him now as he slowly and deeply rocks until she tightens around his rock hard shaft. Grunting deeply he gives in and lets go in an outburst of all within him as he holds on to her legs. Still panting he retracts. Her body shaking, all the ice disappeared.
He unties her and wraps her in his bathrobe holding her in his arms and kissing her. They fall asleep as the sun peeks through the lace curtains. A new day has begun.